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joequiinn · 3 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 15

[chap fourteen] | [all chapters here] | [chap sixteen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | Yes it has been nearly 2 months since I've posted, this chapter was giving me a hard time 😭 But I finally fought off the writer's block, and now we're only a few more chapters away from the end!

WC | 5.9k

Chapter Fifteen

“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this.” You grumbled as Eddie guided you through the school hallways, to which he gave you a dazzlingly mocking smile. That self-satisfied grin was practically ear-to-ear as he looked down at you, his face alight with such glee that you briefly felt the temptation to smack the look away in retaliation.

“You didn’t have to come along.” Eddie answered with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you pulled a face at him; you were always amused by Eddie’s antics, even the ones that annoyed you, such as this.

“You say that, but I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” You countered smartly. Eddie’s grip on your hand tightened a little just to torment you.

“One night of D&D for one night at a Halloween party, I think that sounds fair enough. And I came up with a very special campaign just for you, princess, it would be a shame if you missed it.”

He gave you a taunting, perhaps even flirtatious look, and you couldn’t help your surprise - was he just saying that, or had he actually created a campaign simply because he was counting on you being there? Regardless, he made a good point, although you abhorred to admit it.

Yesterday afternoon, you’d overheard some of your peers excitedly talking about a Halloween party coming up next week, and it caught your attention - you loved parties and you loved Halloween too much not to become curious.

So, you eavesdropped, getting what details you could. The party was hosted by Chance Hunter, whose family was very well known for their parties - it started with his oldest brother back when he was still in school, and the tradition continued with the middle brother and finally Chance. For the past ten years, everyone at Hawkins High knew a party at the Hunter house meant getting absolutely trashed and totally fucked up.

You’d had your own share of wild memories from past parties hosted by Chance - not good memories necessarily, but undeniably chaotic ones. Getting into spats with people after drinking too much, trying coke for the first time - parties hosted by the Hunters were total mayhem, and yet you all kept going back for more like a bunch of sadists.

So, having heard all the details about the party coming up next week, you insisted to Eddie that the two of you had to go, that he had to experience at least one party at the Hunters’ before he graduated. And he was not wholly eager to go to a high school party, although you insisted it wasn’t like any shit he’d probably seen before. It took some back-and-forth for you to get him to agree, but only if you came to a session with the Hellfire Club; you had laughed at the idea before you realized that he was being deathly serious. You were half-tempted to say the party wasn’t worth it, but then Eddie seemed to look actually disappointed, so you begrudgingly agreed so that you didn't hurt his feelings too much.

This god damn crush was going to be the death of you.

Thus, here you were, entering the drama room to the sight of everyone else already sitting around a table, a bit of a sneer on your face as they looked back at you with surprised confusion. You could practically feel how large Eddie’s smile was as he dragged you across the room, eagerly pulling up a chair for you, although the seat was dwarfed in comparison to the stupid throne at the head of the table; if this weren’t the theatre room, you’d wonder why the fuck Eddie had a throne in the first place.

“How’d you convince her to come here?” Grant asked with a laugh, to which you glared; the group of boys was starting to grow accustomed to your presence and, unfortunately, that meant they also weren’t quite as scared of you as they once were. Nor were you quite as annoyed by them as you used to be.

“Much persuasion.” Eddie responded in a comedic, low voice, as if he were already getting into character as Dungeon Master; the title made you burst out laughing when he first said it, to which you received a sharp glare.

Really, Eddie didn’t think you’d agree to come along when he first mentioned this - he threw out the Dungeons and Dragons suggestion because he figured you’d say “no,” that you’d rather skip a good party than be even a spectator to his hobby. Considering what happened at the last party you two attended together, Eddie was initially anxious about what could happen should you go to another; he enjoyed kissing you far too much, and he worried that if given another opportunity to do so, he’d have a much harder time keeping himself together.

Prior to that party at Rick’s place, Eddie already knew he was royally screwed - his crush on you had developed so damn quickly that it nearly gave him whiplash. Despite the fact that you were mean just for the sake of it, that you were frigid half the time, that you were stubborn and willing to fight with him… Eddie had still managed to fall for you like a total sap.

From that first “date” when you two actually found things to laugh about together, Eddie was already growing charmed by you, and even at the time he knew that was a dangerous thing. And as the weeks carried on, it only became easier for Eddie to see you as his - you actually went to his band’s gigs, you were open to trying new things with him, you willingly apologized to him despite it clearly being a near impossible task for you. Eddie knew better than to catch feelings for you, but in the span of only a few short weeks he was head over heels.

And really, he’d always thought you were gorgeous, which didn’t help the situation any - Eddie shouldn’t have let your pretty face get to him, but he just couldn’t help himself.

He noticed you from the first moment you sat down at the desk in front of him in history class back in ‘82; you collapsed into the seat with an annoyed huff at something, flipping your hair so that it fell onto the notebook that he was doodling in. Your carelessness had irked Eddie, especially because you always seemed to be invading his space - an irony, considering that he learned later of your disdain for being touched. Your hair or your elbow were always on his desk. Sure, he could’ve said something to you about it, but he had found enjoyment in the scent of your shampoo and the way your elbow would accidentally nudge his hand, prompting you to jump a little and quickly yank your arm to your side.

Hell, the one time Eddie walked into the classroom to find you sitting on his desk while caught up in conversation, it made him nervous; although he’d built this reputation for himself of being a freak willing to say and do anything, he couldn’t find it in his power to ask you to simply move. You were so cold, hence the nickname bestowed upon you by peers, and he found that quality to be both terrifying and hypnotizing at the same time.

Then there was that day when you accidentally knocked over your bag when the bell rang, and Eddie immediately jumped to help collect your scattered belongings without a second thought. While others stepped around the two of you, you watched in surprise as the resident freak picked up pens and erasers, a stray tube of lipstick in a color that was now discontinued. It was the first time Eddie got to see your genuine smile, and he was riding that high for the rest of the week. It had only lasted for a split second because your friends were calling you to hurry up, but you gave him that dazzling smile, not even saying a word as you then breezed past him and out the door.

Back then, Eddie had enough wherewithal to avoid ever developing feelings for you - you were bitchy, you had an attitude problem, and you were prone to rudeness constantly. You made it easy for him, in that respect - he could look at your pretty face all he wanted, but feel no desire to get to know you any better. So what if you had an amazing smile and he loved the smell of your hair? Eddie didn’t need to get hung up on a popular girl with seemingly no redeeming qualities.

Following that school year, Eddie figured it was just a crush-by-proximity - you two hadn’t had a class together after that, so he never saw you and, therefore, never really thought about you. And so it stayed that way, until this year - when he saw you sitting in math class on that first day of school, he was briefly reminded of the sweet smell of your shampoo, of that smile that he’d never seen on your face again. But that was that, or so Eddie thought.

Seeing you, the ice princess, waiting for him at the picnic table on that fateful day was nearly startling to him; he’d already guessed that the note in his locker was from some preppy chick if the handwriting was any indicator, but for whatever damn reason you hadn’t even crossed his mind. You made him feel nervous immediately, although he was never going to let that on. No, he played up his confidence and his antics, keeping you on your toes so that he wouldn’t feel so damn anxious around you and your cruel stare.

Hell, before that meeting at the picnic tables, he’d never really taken notice of the charming sound of your voice or the pretty color of your eyes, but then those things immediately became all he could think about. Eddie knew he shouldn’t have agreed to your crazy idea, but for whatever damn reason, he couldn’t turn you down; even then, a part of him wanted to give you everything he possibly could, as crazy as that was.

Like an idiot, he tried to set out rules for himself, much like your attempts to create rules for the fake relationship:

Don’t let all the pretend dating get to his head

Keep his distance whenever possible

No spending time with you unnecessarily

Don’t get stupidly jealous of your ex

Follow your lead

It seemed simple enough, and yet Eddie managed to break all of his rules in rapid succession, one right after the other. He should’ve known things wouldn’t go according to plan, that his feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated and that he was just a means to an end.

But then Rick’s party happened, and you threw Eddie and his entire perspective for a goddamn loop. Leading up to that, he already knew things were different between you two, but he couldn’t have predicted that you’d drunkenly kiss him, let alone with the fervor in which you did it. Shit, that night made his head spin, and foolishly he thought maybe that kiss had meant something, that maybe you’d admit that you were secretly harboring feelings for him, too.

Considering the kind of whirlwind that life had been since then, Eddie couldn’t even venture to guess if there was actually something going on between the two of you or not. Clearly you were friends, clearly you’d come to depend on his companionship, but he couldn’t possibly fathom that you actually liked him in the same way he liked you.

Yet you'd get nervous when he looked at you a certain way, or you’d avert your gaze when he said something suggestive; you’d get a particular look on your face when Eddie was being serious about a subject, or you’d bite your lip if you two locked eyes for too long. How was he supposed to interpret it when you’d grow tense at his touch, or when he’d lean in too close and your eyes would go wide?

And, fuck, Eddie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that day when you looked as if you were going to drool over the goddamn ketchup on his fingers. That look on your face had taken up permanent residence in his head, making his alone time all the more torturous when he tried in vain not to think about you.

Eddie couldn’t resist laying it on extra trick following that, flirting with you more blatantly just to see how you’d react. Clearly, he made you nervous, but he couldn’t quite tell why - was the flirting a good thing or a bad thing, did you love it or loathe it?

Could he have just asked you directly what you were feeling? Yes, Eddie supposed he could, but he wasn’t particularly brave enough for that potentially cruel rejection.

Sure, whatever may or may not be going on between the two of you was odd, ridiculous even, but Eddie would much rather deal with that than risk losing it by asking you the all too simple question. He could handle a whole year of this tension so long as it meant spending time with you, so Eddie chose not to have that potentially fatal discussion.

And so, you two were in something of a limbo, stuck in a way that the both of you had come to accept, silly as it may be.

Once Eddie was settled into his throne (which you still rolled your eyes at), he reminded everyone of where they left off in their adventure, the recap confusing you as an unwilling spectator.

“Now, gentlemen, if you remember our last meeting, you were all left penniless following a camp raid, and the party is in desperate need of funds in order to continue this quest.” Eddie looked eagerly around the group, a wicked smile on his lips as he settled his gaze on you; you gave him a suspicious look, suddenly nervous about why exactly he was staring at you like that.

He returned his animated face to the group around the table, “Luckily, you're only about a day’s trek from the Ten Towns Valley of Icewind Dale; you have enough supplies to make that journey, but you won’t make it any further without funds and the proper equipment. It might be in your best interest to visit the tyrannical Ice King who rules this realm - there’s rumor he’s willing to pay a handsome fee for those daring enough to accept the quest he has in store.”

As the group began to excitedly talk amongst themselves about what this side quest may be, you stared at Eddie with intrigue, to which he simply gave you a giddy look. He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Excited yet?”

“For what?” You questioned, although you already knew this had something to do with the “special” campaign he claimed to have come up with. But instead of answering you, Eddie winked with a charming smile, looking back at the club with faux seriousness.

“Well, what’s the party’s decision?”

The group all exclaimed, voices overlapping as they agreed to visit this Ice King character.

At that moment, you realized what Eddie may be implying with that title, and you quickly shot him a look; as if he could read your mind, his smile grew larger with anticipation. As you two stared at one another, you narrowed your eyes even as you resisted an amused grin, challenging him to explain to you what was going on, but Eddie wouldn’t budge.

It felt like a whirlwind trying to keep up with all the chatter and excitement amongst the boys, your eyes bouncing around the room as they talked over each other, asked Eddie questions, and laughed at jokes that went over your head. Within only a few minutes, you were growing more confused and, thus, more annoyed, and so you tried to find something to keep you preoccupied - you fussed with your nails, flipped through a book, anything to distract you while you were stuck sitting here in the middle of this silly game.

The boys hollered and howled together as they speculated what the quest might be, as they debated how the story might unfold. On occasion, your ears would perk up when Eddie would put on some voice while the group went on their “journey,” but you’d just as quickly become disengaged again.

Eventually something significant must have happened, because abruptly Eddie grabbed the fold-out chair you sat in and dragged it closer to him, causing you to yelp in surprise; the sharp sound of the chair legs whining against the floor made the entire room yell in annoyance and frustration. You gave Eddie a glare, your face knotted as if your ears were ringing, but he seemed entirely unphased as he threw his arm around you; for good measure, you half-heartedly smacked him in the chest as you continued glowering.

“Brave explorers,” Eddie began in a deeper voice, going so far as to change his cadence, clearly becoming a different character, “I, the Ice King, ask but a simple task of you - rescue my daughter, the Ice Princess, who has been kidnapped by my rival. Bring her home safe and sound, and I will pay you a hefty fee.”

Eddie squeezed your shoulder eagerly as the boys once again began to talk amongst themselves, meanwhile you gave him a charmed look, leaning into his side, “Really, the Ice Princess? How creative.”

He leaned in close, his face so close that you could feel his breath against your skin, making your heart skip, “Hey, I’ve got something up my sleeve, don’t worry your pretty little head over the details.”

Luckily, Eddie looked back at the group before he could see the embarrassment that washed across your face at his indirect compliment.

Dustin resolutely spoke for the party, “We will gladly save the Ice Princess from your enemy’s clutches, sire.”

Eddie nodded at him, “Very well. The last known location of Princess…”

When he trailed off, everyone looked at you, causing you to pull a face and glance at Eddie; he, too, had an expectant look in his eyes, “What?”

“Well, the princess needs a name.”

“Then give her my name.” You said it as if that were obvious, your tone biting albeit confused; but everyone simply snickered at the suggestion.

Eddie shook his head teasingly, “Not in D&D; you pick something.”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, “Gladys.”

The group laughed again, although this time clearly in amusement at your humor. Eddie, however, narrowed his eyes at you challengingly, perhaps a little disappointed that you weren’t playing along, “Come on, something more interesting than that.”

You sighed again while glaring at him smally; it’s not that you were wholly averse to being here during their game, but you hadn’t realized you were expected to participate. You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing that there was no point in being stubborn just for the sake of it. And the look on Eddie’s face didn’t help the matter, as despite his own obstinate expression, his eyes seemed all too hopeful that you’d engage with this game. So, you mulled it over for a moment, Eddie watching your face far too attentively in anticipation.

“Fine. Elvira.” You smiled proudly, feeling all too pleased with yourself when Eddie’s eyes lit up at your answer.

“Elvira?” He leaned towards you flirtatiously, “So, you’re the Ice Princess and the Mistress of the Dark?”

“As if you didn’t already know.” You countered playfully, forgetting the rest of the group for a moment.

Eddie gave you one more teasing wink before looking you up and down, then returned his attention to the group. His eyes practically made you melt, and you quickly had to pull yourself together, “So, Princess Elvira was seen being escorted through Luskan by a known hand of the Rebel Prince, so it is believed that he’s taken her prisoner. Do whatever it takes to return the princess back home.”

And so, the game commenced, although you were quickly left in a state of semi-interested confusion yet again - clearly, Princess Elvira wasn’t too significant for the time being, as you were left to entertain yourself as the group engaged with their quest.

Eventually, you huffed, growing antsy as if in need of something - anything - to keep you occupied as you simply sat here. Beside you, Eddie shot you a glance, feeling your languor radiating outward; teasingly, he pinched at your arm, promptly receiving another small smack from you in retaliation.

“Am I supposed to do anything?” You asked smally while leaning towards him, causing Eddie to smirk.

“What, don’t tell me you’re suddenly interested in playing.” He teased as Lucas paused to debate some move he was going to make, though you had no context for what exactly the party was meant to be doing at this moment.

“No, but I’m just sitting here doing nothing.” You answered in a bratty tone. Foolishly, you hadn’t counted on Eddie being so engaged with the group that he couldn’t keep you entertained - you should have figured as much, and yet, you’d grown so accustomed to his attention that it was suddenly strange to not have it.

That was one more thing for you to not read into.

“Darn.” Eddie mocked, and your expression deadpanned, causing him to grin widely. The group drew his attention back just as he looked like he was about to say something more; you watched as his face shifted, getting back into character, and you couldn’t help but smile at it despite your annoyance.

As Eddie narrated whatever scenario the group had just found themselves in, you tried to pay a little more attention, at least in an effort to satiate your boredom - there was something about a snowy mountain pass and an encounter with soldiers of the Rebel Prince.

While the story continued on, you slowly found yourself becoming gripped by it, watching as Eddie verbally guided the group through treacherous landscapes and harrowing enemy encounters; you were beginning to understand, at least to some extent, what Dungeons & Dragons was about.

Sure, the skill checks and abilities and dice rolls were still confusing as ever to you, but the basics were becoming clear - everyone had a character and a role, and they had to rely on Eddie to reveal the story and information to them. That must have been part of the fun, you figured.

And although you weren’t participating, you found that you were also coming to enjoy this - watching Eddie speak in a variety of voices, jumping out of his seat with excitement and histrionically throwing his arms around. Much like when he played guitar, you could see that he was in his element, that his passion and focus had a way of bringing a smile to your face despite a part of you still finding this game to be completely dorky. Yet again, Eddie found a way to charm you, but at the moment you were far too amused to be annoyed by that.

Eventually, Eddie’s narration brought the group to what must have been the climax of the journey - the party had burst into the Keep of the Rebel Prince, prepared to confront him regarding the kidnapping of Princess Elvira. For this, Eddie sunk down into his seat, his posture taking on one of snarky confidence - this must have been for the prince’s characterization. With a smirk, he began in a voice not quite his own.

“So, you’ve found me, gentlemen.” Eddie’s eyes shined eagerly, as if this is what he’d been waiting for the entire time, “I suspected the Ice King would send someone soon enough.”

“We know that you’ve taken the princess prisoner.” Dustin spoke up eagerly, equally as excited as Eddie for whatever was to come next, “And we plan to kill you and take her back!”

Eddie laughed theatrically, and although it was ridiculous that he was doing all this for a simple tabletop game, you couldn’t help but watch him in anticipation, “You will not be killing me nor will you be taking her back, not unless she has anything to say about it.”

Collectively, you all looked at Eddie with expressions full of confusion and curiosity, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. And, clearly, he was absolutely eating this up - you could see just how much Eddie thrilled in the suspense and tension that was building.

“Your dear Ice Princess is going nowhere, you see, because she’s fallen in love with me.”

All at once, the boys began to eagerly talk over one another, delight and surprise amplifying their volume as they tried to make sense of this plot twist. As they conferred with one another, Eddie returned his gaze to you, his eyes alight at the surprise that had crossed your face as you stared back at him, although there was something within his expression that almost seemed to be assessing you.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Mike spoke up, everyone giving Eddie suspicious looks, “How do we know that you haven’t cast some spell on her.”

In a near threatening manner, Eddie leaned forward with an over the top look of menace, daring the group to doubt him, “From the moment I first laid eyes upon her, I was captivated by the princess. I was drawn to her like a magnet, and by some stroke of luck, she was drawn to me as well.”

“Or so you say.” Jeff challenged rousingly.

Eddie looked at you from the corner of his eye, and perhaps you were misreading it, but there was something uncharacteristically guarded about his expression; he quickly looked back to the boys before you could read further into it, “The princess asked that I help her run away from the cruelty of her father, and how could I refuse her all that she asked for? As the Ice King’s rival, she and I both knew he’d never approve of what had grown between us, so we staged the princess’s kidnapping, despite knowing he’d still come after us.”

The corner of your mouth turned up at the obvious parallel, Eddie drawing inspiration from the secret that this entire relationship between you two was a sham. But just as quickly as it amused you, it also made you tense, silly as that may be - sure, he was in character, but something about the Rebel Prince’s confession of love for the princess spiked your nerves.

You realized amidst your reverie that Eddie was looking at you once more, although the moment you made eye contact he looked away. That avoidance only added to your nerves, another wave of anxiety fluttered inside you, but you simply watched on as he, and the rest of the group, continued.

“For the princess, I’d do anything.” Eddie continued, his tone serious enough that you’d believe him if this wasn’t just a game, “Kill for her, die for her - and I’m willing to take on each and every one of you if that’s what it comes to.”

The group quickly conferred, deciding what their course of action should be now that this shocking information was revealed. All the while, you continued staring at Eddie with wonder, wishing that his fictional little story hadn’t made you feel something, that it hadn’t made you begin to question and wonder at things. He refrained from gazing back at you, furthering your curiosity.

“We want to hear from the princess.” Gareth finally spoke up for everyone; Eddie tilted his head playfully in response, “If what you say is true, we want her to confirm it. And then we’ll decide whether or not we fight you.”

An eager smile spread wide across Eddie’s lips as he went on to describe the way a set of doors opened to reveal Princess Elvira, detailing how she entered the room with a calm, graceful, hypnotic demeanor. Eventually, he and the boys all looked back at you expectantly, and you realized with a start that you were now expected to finally participate, to speak for this character that barely existed within the scope of the story.

You looked between them all with trepidation, eyes practically imploring Eddie to help you figure out what the hell you were supposed to do. Now that you were on the spot, all pondering about Eddie had come to a halt, your mind immediately drawing a blank.

“Oh, come on, don’t chicken out now just when things are getting good.” Dustin lambasted excitedly, drawing a glare out of you as everyone shared a small laugh, “Well? Is the princess being manipulated, or does she actually have feelings for the Rebel Prince?”

You pulled a bit of a hesitant face before sighing, returning your eyes to Eddie as if seeking assistance, as if you needed help forming whatever sentences he wanted to keep the narrative rolling. He was finally able to actually look you in the eye again, simply nod before falling back into character.

“Well, princess, what do you say?”

For another moment you chewed the inside of your cheek before starting tentatively, voice unsure and plain; you held Eddie’s gaze hesitantly, “It’s… true. The Rebel Prince and I are… in love?”

You couldn’t help but huff out a confused laugh at how strange it felt to now be involved in the boys’ dorky little game. And it felt even stranger to allude to love between you and Eddie, even if it were through your characters; you nearly felt a chill on the nerves it made you feel.

“I don’t find that very convincing.” Grant teased as if he were trying to rally the party against the Rebel Prince’s supposed lie. Your jaw tightened a little at the challenge, and so you continued while looking from Eddie to him, growing nervous as if you - not Princess Elvira - were the one being interrogated.

“Everything he said is the truth,” You tried again, hoping that by looking away from Eddie you would somehow keep your cool. Why were you feeling butterflies in your stomach? It’s not as if you were admitting your feelings for Eddie, you reminded yourself. You attempted to swallow your nerves while figuring out what to say next, trying to find this character within yourself, “My father is heartless and hateful, it was suffocating. The Prince is kind and caring and a far cry from all the bad things people have called him… how could I not fall for him?”

There was a shared look of approval from the group - clearly, they were now pleased with this surprise narrative that Eddie had put together and pleased with your participation. As they huddled together once again, you glanced over at Eddie nervously; there was a faint smile on his lips and a light in his eyes that you couldn’t place, that made you anxious in combination with the not-confession you just made.

“As you boys can see, all your efforts were for nothing.” Eddie said to the group condescendingly, which once more seemed to rally them to argue, “So, either you leave us in peace, or I’ll be forced to strike you down.”

And so commenced another bout of debate and dice rolls, the boys deciding to fight in an effort to get their reward rather than show sympathy to the prince and princess. By their skills and luck, the characters eventually defeated the Rebel Prince, choosing to take him prisoner, intent on dragging both he and the princess back to the Ice King.

But then Eddie called it a night, deciding that the Hellfire Club would pick this narrative back up next week considering how long they’d already been at it. You were simultaneously glad and disappointed - you’d just begun to understand the game, to be a part of it, but you’d also been growing tired as the evening wore on.

So, once everything was wrapped up and put back in its place, you all exited the school together, the night air colder than you’d expected, which made you shiver. Being late October, you knew that you had to start dressing more appropriately for the weather, but you weren’t quite ready to give up your short skirts and thin shirts quite yet. You were willing to freeze your ass off just a little for the sake of fashion, shallow as that may sound; and, you simply hated wearing pants and layers.

Seeing the way you shivered and tightened your arms at your side, Eddie slipped off his jacket without hesitation, draping it over your shoulders. Nervously, you gave him a thankful look, hoping he didn’t catch the way you inhaled the scent of leather and cigarettes and musk.

Eventually, everyone had parted ways, and you were comfortably situated in Eddie’s passenger seat with your knees tucked under you. As had become habit, you watched Eddie as he drove, studying the way the streetlights hit the planes of his face, smiling at the way his hands drummed along to the music against the steering wheel.

“So, what you think?” He asked with a quick glance at you.

“Pretty dorky.” You responded, although you quickly added, “But… fun.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?” Eddie teased with a mischievous grin pointing at his ear in emphasis; you rolled your eyes, “Did the ice princess just say she had fun playing D&D with a bunch of nerds?”

“Shut up.” You countered half-heartedly, sharing a smile with him.

“Does that mean you want to come next week?”

Your brow furrowed a little, “We’ll be at the Halloween party.”

Eddie waved a hand, “We’ll go after, I’ll make it short.”

You sighed through your nose in consideration; if you went to more Hellfire Club sessions, would you just be sitting there idly as much as you were tonight? How could you participate? Would they even want you to? Did you actually want to?

“Fine… but don’t get used to it.” The simple response brought another bright smile to Eddie’s face.

“Oh, you’ll be begging to go in no time, I guarantee it.”

“I’m sure you’d love to see me beg.” You didn’t think the words through until they’d already spilled out of your mouth, causing your eyes to immediately widen and your shoulders to tense. Beside you, you could see the way Eddie’s own expression faltered, clearly catching the accidental innuendo, too. Fumbling over yourself for a moment, you tried to put on your best disinterested tone, as if you were none the wiser of the implications in your previous statement, “As if that would ever happen, though.”

Eddie blew air between his lips, also trying to play off that brief instance of tension, laughing falsely, “Yeah, yeah, that’s not happening.”

You could feel a shiver of anxiety all throughout your body, wondering what Eddie thought of what you just said, wondering why D&D felt a little too candid when you finally had the chance to speak. You had to have been blowing this out of proportion, your nerves simply getting the better of you - yeah, it was just this stupid crush of yours making you second guess things, making you overreact. There was no way Eddie was confessing anything to you back there, and you weren’t exactly confessing anything to him either.

Shit, you really had to keep yourself in check, because this crush was seriously getting out of hand.

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@twihard28 @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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risuola · 1 year ago

Note

Gojo x reader who's a student and she's 18y/o and he likes yn but yn doesn't or she doesn't wanna admit

SENSEI — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Gojo Satoru is your sensei and everyone seem to notice that he likes you more than anyone else. Everyone but you.

cw: student x teacher, age gap (reader is 18, Satoru is 28), very brief description of fighting, public kissing — 1,4k words

a/n: thank you for the suggestion! I made if sfw but I made the ending open for part two maybe? I hope you enjoy it 🩶

» PART TWO [nsfw]

"Idiot," you grunted, your cheek was pressed against the grass as Gojo forced his knee into your back, holding both your hands in one of his own, the other keeping your head down. Another day, another training session with your teacher – you couldn't count how many of these you've already been through, but you can easily count how many sparring matches you've won. None.

"That's a strange way to ask for mercy, sweetheart, but okay," he hummed. You can tell he was grinning just by the sound of his melodic tone and you snapped at him, "I'm not asking for mercy, sensei."

"Ay, ay, so stubborn," Satoru chuckled and lifted up so you could do the same and as you stood on your feet, facing him, his hand caressed your cheekbone, successfully freezing you on the spot. The touch was so gentle that if you didn't know better, your knees would probably buckle from the sensation. But this was Gojo. The flirtiest of flirts, and the man you deeply disliked. It's not that you despised him, no, it's just the way he carries himself, the way he treated everyone around him, and most importantly, the way he treated you.

When you moved to Tokyo, joining Jujutsu High, you were barely fifteen, a first-year student that Satoru recruited himself by finding you on the streets of your small town and saving you from the mental facility that you already had one foot in, voluntarily. Before that, you tried to live your life as normally as one could, ignoring everything you saw around you because no one else seemed to see it. The curses, which you did not know were curses at the time, made you doubt your sanity for the longest time.

After moving, everything became easier – you met people who were just like you, you learned how to fight and mastered the cursed techniques in no time. Now, you just recently turned eighteen, you were pushing your last year of education, though there wasn't much more to learn, so you focused on helping younger students and if you were to be honest, this practice had taught you more than any theory could. You had the luck, or misfortune, to be Gojo's first official student – he took care of you himself, helping you to refine your control over the cursed energy and thanks to his guidance, you quickly discovered and mastered your own cursed technique, and since there wasn't much anyone could teach you at this point, you trained hand-to-hand with Satoru.

"Think you have more in you?", he asked, his thumb still brushing across your cheekbone and you took a step back. "I'm always ready to kick your ass," you bit, your eyes narrowing as you clenched your fists.

"That's my girl," Gojo grinned and you snorted at the sight. He's always so careless, never taking any of your attacks seriously, bragging about how untouchable he is, turning your wildest dreams into fantasies about erasing that infuriating smile from his face. And he was taking your fists like they're nothing, blocking and pushing them away like he's chasing a fly away when you tried to land a punch, with no luck at all. "Come on, I'm sure you can hit me at least once," he mocked, moving effortlessly, as if he could see what action your body will take before you even think about it.

"Shut up," you groaned, trying and trying, before he kicked you in the stomach, pushing you against the tree and you had no time to react before he was pressing you back with his own body. The sudden closeness made you gasp and act impulsively, but Gojo blocked the knee that buckled up, aiming for his crotch. "Nuh-uh, that's against the rules," he chuckled and you felt his breath against your lips.

"And you being on me is not?" you argued, but he was unfazed. "Who made these rules?"

"I did," of course he did. "It's only fair that the strongest make the rules."

"You and your damn bragging-"

"I'm stating facts," he cut in, and you rolled your eyes, "and you can't seem to be able to prove me wrong. Not even one of your eager punches lands."

That was the last straw – you inhaled to calm your anger, and you could physically feel your composure snapping as you looked at his smiling face. You were desperate to prove him wrong, not to defeat him, no, you're not that insane, but to just prove him that he's not as untouchable as he says. And then you recalled every teasing joke you heard from your younger colleagues – all of them seemed to come to the collective conclusion that the 'special treatment' you got from your sensei was surely an effect of his feelings towards you, and you brushed off the idea every single time. Gojo Satoru is handsome, annoyingly so, and his eyes are an absolute blessing to gaze into (when you're not his opponent in a deadly encounter, that is), and he's a kind, friendly man, very caring and protective of his students. His strengths make him invincible; he can win any fight with no effort, and everything he does, he does perfectly. He often brings you sweets, remembering your favorite flavors, and he always addresses you with a slightly warmer tone than when he speaks to any other student. He's also ten years your senior, your teacher, and he's way out of your league, so you simply chose to dislike him because allowing yourself to believe in such an absurd theory that he could fall for you would only bring disappointment.

But now, you were desperate to slam your fist into his face, to draw blood from his nose, to make him lose his balance, to get something– anything more than a swift, effortless dodge from him. Without thinking, you moved your head forward, reaching up, and he hummed in surprise when your lips landed on his. You could feel he smiled while taking control over the kiss, and you fought for dominance just a little before grabbing a handful of his snow-white, messy hair. You felt his well-built body pressing harder against yours, much smaller; the wall of muscle flush to your chest, and his large hand landed on the side of your neck, fingers curling around the back, pulling you more into the kiss. For a moment you were lost in the sensation – it felt so wrong and yet so right, and your mind became cloudy; his lips were soft and plush and perfect against yours, as if they'd been carved precisely to match yours, and it made your temperature rise to feverish levels at how skillfully he guided the sensitivity. Nothing you've ever felt compared to the feeling of Gojo's lips slowly dancing on yours, as if he's starving and now, he was allowed to devour the long-awaited meal – but he devoured it slowly, savoring the taste to remember every second of it. You whimpered as you felt his hand sliding down the length of your spine, sending shivers along it as your back arched beneath the touch.

You tugged at his hair, causing a contented purr to rumble within his toned chest, and you moved against your body's desires. You'd like to stay like this forever, careless about how everyone can see you publicly making out with your sensei; you'd like to kiss him longer, deeper, to take more of him, to make him yours, even if only for a moment, but instead you moved your hand. Curling it into a fist, you bit onto his lower lip following it up with a harsh, heavy punch to the side of his face and it landed perfectly, the contact between your knuckles and his cheek undeniable as he touched the bone. Despite the force you put into it, the blow wasn't strong enough to make him fall or even step back, but it was satisfactory for you. His face was colored with surprise as he looked down at you, and you couldn't help but grin broadly.

"New rule," he said, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss on the reddened knuckles that just made contact with his face. "No kissing your teacher during spar sessions."

"Too bad I wasn't familiarized with the rules before the fight, sensei," you shrugged, pleased with your accomplishment, and he couldn't get over the way you made the word 'sensei' sound. Suddenly he wished to hear it somewhere else, somewhere other than the school's training grounds or classrooms.

"Now I declare the end of the training."

And Satoru's lips were once again pressed to yours, taking your breath away.

» PART TWO

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astro-b-o-y-d · 8 months ago

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 5 - Fake Fights and Failed Flights

— — — — — — —

“I still don’t know what you’re making over there, but if I could toss out a suggestion: you can’t go wrong with copious amounts of glitter~! Ooh, or flames spray-painted on the side! Makes for a great accent to any art project!”

Bill’s remark didn’t even earn so much as a glance from Ford, his gaze fixed solely on the desk before him as he continued to work on his mysterious project.

A project which Bill had continued to try and get a glimpse of every time Ford stepped away from his desk to fetch more—just as mysterious—supplies. But much like the first time, any attempt to stretch or crane his neck for a peek at the desk’s contents only ended in failure. And at one point, resulted in Ford’s only acknowledgment of him throughout the entire process—in the form of propping one of his books upright on the desk, to further block his line of sight. An action that had earned a drawn-out eye roll on Bill’s end; somebody was being dramatic for the sake of dramatics.

Eventually, however, Ford rose from his chair a final time and reached for the mysterious whatever that waited on the desk before him. And it was only once he turned back towards the far side of the study and reapproached the rope circle that Bill finally got a clear look at the fruits of the man’s labor.

“…A sock puppet. Adorable.”

Sure enough, Ford had haphazardly sewn googly eyes and little pipe cleaner arms to a worn sock, one that Bill assumed had come from the emergency stash of clothes he kept up in the bathroom. It was a rush job, far more amateur than the work he would normally put into an artisanal project. But even a clueless idiot could take one look at his creation and coin it as a puppet of sorts.

After a double-check of the stitching to make sure the various parts would stay connected to the sock, Ford knelt down just outside of the rope circle before setting the crude little puppet down at his feet—

—and he waited.

Bill watched him for a few minutes, eyebrow raised, before—

Ah.

Okay, he knew what was happening now.

“Trying to contact the poor sucker whose body I’m playing puppetmaster with?” he guessed aloud. “Come on, Sixer, you can’t pretend you aren’t~!”

“They’re likely to give me more answers than you ever will.”

Both of Bill’s eyebrows shot further up his forehead. After the many times Ford had ignored him throughout the past day, it was truly a surprise to get an actual response out of him!

Both a surprise and an annoyance, one that earned him a hard raspberry from Bill—which was immediately followed by the loud sound of him smacking his lips with discomfort. Eugh—it just felt so wrong to have a tongue that wasn’t tenderly and carefully tucked beneath his eyeball. Or rows of teeth that pressed uncomfortably against each other, as opposed to retracting into slots around his eyeball when not in use.

Oh, right, he was mocking Ford—“I mean, you say that, but out of the two of us, which one was refusing to talk all night?” he taunted. “I mean, I tried and tried to have a nice chat—ask about what you’ve been up to for the past few months, how the family’s been—but you were being just as stubborn as ever.”

Ford didn’t respond, his gaze fixed solely on the puppet as he waited for something to happen. And Bill couldn’t help but let his own eyes fall to the crude little sock creation as well, while he also waited in just-as-curious silence.

Sure, Birdbrain had plunked him back down in a human body, but they hadn’t elaborated on where they’d be getting that body in the first place. Heck, they’d been downright sneaky about what body they’d planned on sticking him into, deliberately avoiding any specifies right up until the second before they zapped him outta their mindscape.

But unless they somehow possessed the ability to create a brand new body from nothing, they would’ve had to get his vessel from somewhere.

And if they'd actually resorted to pulling out the soul of some unlucky chump and recycling the leftovers for him to use as his own, then Bill couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the tiniest bit curious about what said chump was like in the personality department.

…Of course if they were hoping to get their body back from him, then they were straight-up outta luck in that regard. Finders keepers, pal!

But hey, no harm in being a little curious about his vessel's origins. Curiosity killed the cat, after all—and a dead animal here and there always added a delightful splash of color to the room.

The two of them waited a minute, two minutes, five minutes—

But the puppet remained an immobile lump on the hard, wooden floor.

“Now, I might be wrong,” Bill finally spoke up after their waiting period hit the seven-minute mark. “But I feel like something should’ve happened by this point. Just a guess, though!”

Ford remained silent, eyes still fixed on the puppet—

—before he too decided to call it quits, and rose to his feet. “Well, I suppose that answers a few questions,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, on to the next step…”

Bill bit back the urge to pester Ford with an inquiry of: “Oh, and what’s the next step, Smart Guy?” and instead kept his attention on the sock puppet as Ford headed back to the desk. Even if nothing had actually happened, it had still given him a few more hints about the kind of body possession he was dealing with at the moment.

If Birdbrain had done some soul switcharoo-ing to free up a body, the original soul would’ve likely pulled a Pine Tree and used whatever other vessel they could get their hands on—in order to communicate as much to anyone willing to listen.

So if they hadn’t been tempted by the puppet equivalent of the bargain bin—nobody’s first choice but it would do in a desperate pinch—then there were a few possibilities.

One: they had already found a vessel somewhere else to claim as their own. An unlikely guess if his theory of Ford finding him close to the Shack turned out to be correct—a soul whose body was being temporarily borrowed by someone would ideally stick as close to the body as possible. Or at least, if someone else had found a way to parade Bill’s body around as their own, he knew for a fact that he’d personally be hovering around it at all times and annoying the thief into giving it back.

Two: Birdbrain had thought ahead and decided to keep a tight leash on the soul, to prevent it from trying to take its body back. A possibility more likely than the first, although Bill had no way of clarifying this fact without finding some way to contact Tangy at all.

His brow furrowed as his thoughts switched gears to that smug, feathered jerk. He still had plans to play their dumb game, but he’d already wasted most of the past day being tied to a chair. How was he supposed to track down the stupid little bricks to their stupid little charm if he couldn’t even move from this stupid little chair?

Concerns to gripe about later—Right now, he was on to possibility number three; the body had no former host, and Birdbrain has just crafted him a new body from scratch.

Making something from nothing was a task only the most powerful of entities could perform. Bill would know from experience; he’d been able to do it once he’d escaped from the Nightmare Realm and ventured into this dimension—crafting a beautiful, three-dimensional pyramid body for himself.

How he missed that body dearly—he had even sprung for a square base over a triangular one, just to mix things up a little bit. Sure, it’d mostly been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but settling his consciousness into such a form had just felt so right for him. A rightness that he would probably unpack at some point in the future, when he no longer had to focus on the task at hand.

But creating an entirely new, physical vessel from within the mindscape itself, all without a rift to the dimension where it would be used?

That was something that even he hadn’t been able to accomplish. If he had, he wouldn’t have needed the help from mortals with crafting a portal in the first place—he could’ve simply cut out the middle man, poofed a ready-made vessel into existence, and used that to build the portal himself.

If Birdbrain possessed that much power, then—

“A-ha! Found it!”

Bill was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Ford’s voice, and he looked up to see him approaching the circle again. “Yeesh, took you long enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to bore me to death with all your dull research and secret art projects~!”

“I do have my reasons for both,” Ford admitted as he drew closer. “That much I am willing to disclose to you.”

“Oh~?” Bill perked up with curiosity. “And what reasons are those?”

As Ford finally came to a stop outside the circle and knelt down to pick up the sock puppet, Bill could see something cradled in one of his hands.

A small burlap sack, hardly bigger than his palm—

“I needed to determine the proper dosage to knock someone of your stature out cold.”

—oh, he was not serious!

The puppet was dropped inside the rope circle near his feet, and before Bill could finish his irate warning of: “Stanford, don’t you dare—”, Ford was already tossing the bag’s contents at his face.

Bill sputtered as a pink burst of fairy dust hit him square in the mouth, yanking his arms desperately against his restraints in the hopes of freeing one so he could wipe his face clean.

But it was only a matter of seconds later that the sleep effects start to overtake his vessel’s fragile immune system, and his body drooped forward with exhaustion.

He saw Ford step into the circle and continue towards him, reaching a hand into his pocket—

—and Bill managed one feeble kick of his leg before he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, get a load of this~!”

After a quick glance back at the younger teens to make sure she had their attention, Wendy pulled a flashlight from her belt loop and took aim at the nearby half-pipe. One press of the button later and the ramp had been shrunken down to a size more suitable for skateboarding ants, rather than people or Abominable Bro-men.

With a pleased grin, Wendy strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “You guys have no idea what kind of geniuses you were to put this thing together,” she said, giving it a light shake to clear away the miniscule soda cans. “It makes cleaning up the exhibits soooo much easier!”

“I just can’t believe I never thought to use it for cleaning before,” Dipper said from where the two of them were seated. “Do you know how easy it’d be to clean under my bed if I could just shrink it first? Or how much time I could save on washing clothes if they were half-an-inch tall?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a possible patent on your hands,” Wendy said, setting the shrunken half-pipe into a storage box. “But I came up with the cleaning idea, so I want at least seventy percent of the cut.”

“Aww, what? I’m the one who invented the thing,” Dipper pointed out. “Forty-sixty split where I’m getting the sixty, or no deal.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine, what if we make it fifty-fifty but I get to pick the name?”

“No way! I made it, I should get to name it!”

“Oh, yeah?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “So what did you name it?”

At this question, Dipper suddenly became very interested in the dirt beneath his shoes. “...I mean, I said I should get to name it, not that I’ve actually named it yet,” he muttered weakly. “But you know, if you happen to have a name already picked out, I’m open to suggestions or whatever…”

With a laugh, Wendy lightly tapped the flashlight against her leg as she pondered ideas. “What about…the Shrink-and-Scrub?” she suggested. “The main words start with the same letter, it’s catchy…would probably snag the attention of overworked parents or something.”

“Not bad, not bad,” Dipper mused thoughtfully. “But you’re not really scrubbing with it, are you? We could get slapped with a false advertising charge.”

“Ooh, good call! Whaddaya think, Mabel, you got any good name ideas?”

Dipper turned to face his sister, seated on the ground next to him with her attention on her phone. At Wendy’s question, however, she lowered the screen with a contemplative look. “The…Shrink-and-Span? Like spick-and-span, but there’s shrinking? And it still sounds all clean-y and stuff?”

She placed her phone on the ground next to her so she could make a growing-shrinking motion with her hands. “Also Span, like Ex-span…d? It’s almost a pun and people love puns!”

Her arms were thrown into the air with bright enthusiasm, but it was only seconds later before both her posture and expression sank again. “I dunno…”

While she slipped her chin back into one hand and her phone back into the other, Dipper and Wendy exchanged a knowing look. “Man, even when you’re down in the dumps, you’re still better at this than both of us,” Wendy said.

Mabel’s response was a sad hum, and Dipper scooted closer to place a hand on her shoulder. “Still worried, huh?” he asked. “I thought the streamer thing would’ve made you at least a little bit excited.”

“I can’t work my Mabel Magic on the shack until everything’s all cleaned up,” Mabel explained. “Which means I gotta sit and think about Bill and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and everything else we had to worry about last year!”

Her hands once against returned to the air as she continued to speak: “We were gonna spend so much time with both Stan and Ford this summer! But now that big, dumb, pointy, jerky…jerkface is back and they’re fighting because of him, and—and—”

Rather than finish her sentence, she reached to her sweater collar and pulled it up over her face with a groan—an action that earned a comforting shoulder pat from her brother. “Come on, Mabel, you’re not really gonna believe what Bill said about Stan and Ford fighting, are you?”

“Yeah,” Wendy added. “Isn’t the guy, like, a notorious liar or something? Who cares if he says they’re fighting?”

“It’s not what he said,” Mabel explained, pulling the collar back down past her mouth. “It’s what they’re doing! I mean, you and Grunkle Stan went to give Ford his breakfast, right?”

She directed this question at Dipper, who nodded in response. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, what happened when you did?”

“Not a whole lot,” Dipper said, and began to tick off his fingers. “We went to Abuelita’s bedroom, Bill was trying to be as creepy as possible, we went out into the hallway to talk about Ford’s plan—”

His hand sank a bit. “—Stan started getting upset because Ford wasn’t letting him help,” he finished defeatedly. “And then I…left to go up to the bedroom.”

Mabel pointed to Wendy, who had occupied herself by taking aim at another exhibit. “And what happened after that?”

“Well…Stan came storming up the hallway,” Wendy began, placing the newly-shrunken exhibit into the box with the others. “And then he—”

She hesitated to reply for a few seconds, before pressing a hand to the back of her neck. “—he punched the wall and went out to the boat.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re fighting, though!” Dipper added quickly. “It could mean anything! Maybe Bill was getting on Grunkle Stan’s nerves, and he got frustrated before he…stormed away and punched a wall about it?”

A pause. “…Even though he already punched Bill in the face last night and probably wouldn’t have to just punch a wall if Bill was getting on his nerves again?”

Mabel flumped over her knees with another groan. “You see? They are fighting! And now Grunkle Ford’s down in his lab doing lots of secret sciencey stuff, while Grunkle Stan’s over on the boat, doing secret boaty stuff—”

They all turned their heads in the direction of the Stan-O’-War 2 before she continued: “They’re doing stuff by themselves instead of together, like last year!”

She pulled her collar back over her face. “I don’t want things to be like last year…”

While Dipper gave her shoulder another comforting pat, Wendy kept her attention fixed on the Stan-O’-War 2 for a bit longer, before letting it travel across the yard towards the waiting Manotaur stage at the edge of the woods.

A stage which she eyed for a second, then the flashlight in her hand for another, before turning back to the twins with a wink. “Hey, you know, we never got around to having that fight yesterday,” she said. “You dorks up for—oh, wait, lemme just—”

She held up the Shrink Ray and fired it at the stage, quickly rushing to shake it clean of any debris left from the previous day’s performance. And once it was properly cleared and regrown to its original size, she spun around to face them again. “Alright, so now that we don’t have to worry about stepping on broken glass and wood, you dorks up for a little random gratuitous violence to get out some of those bad Bill feelings?”

Dipper’s mouth curled into a small smile as he gave his sister’s shoulder a light nudge. “Whaddaya think, Mabel? Would punching out some of those feelings about the jerky jerkface make you feel better?”

There was a pause, before Mabel pulled the collar back down again with a curious peek. “Can I pretend you’re Bill while we fight?”

After another wink in her direction, Wendy slapped a hand over one eye. “Come on, Falling Star!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Betcha wanna punch me real hard in my stupid, triangle face!”

With a grin, Mabel bounded to her feet with delight. “Actually, he calls me ‘Shooting Star’,” she corrected. “But if you do that funny voice again, I’m so in!”

“Atta girl,” Wendy said, the hand over her eye shifting into a thumbs up before she broke into a sprint toward the stage steps. “Come on, let’s get our swings in before Soos and Melody notice that I’m taking my break!”

— — — — — — —

“Massive Maude? Nah, nah, that wouldn’t work—little jerk can’t leave town. Ahab’s Harpoon through the chest? Nope, can’t kill him—”

Stan flipped to the next page with a huff, his fingertip trailing down past every little location, creature, and discovery Ford had listed during their oversea adventures.

And as he’d initially suspected, most of the potential ways to rid themselves of a pesky triangle demon involved killing Bill outright—deeming themselves a no-go, according to Ford’s previously-established mumbo-jumbo about how they couldn’t kill the body.

Stan let out another gruff sigh as he slammed the journal shut. Yeesh, his only lead and so far it was proving to be completely useless. Too bad Ford had made the choice to chuck all the other journals down into the Bottomless Pit. It had probably been really cathartic for him, but in hindsight, they would’ve really come in handy at a time like this—

“Wait a sec—”

He pressed a hand to his chin, the metaphorical ding of a lightbulb almost audible as an idea began to form. It was a longshot after what happened last year—so much was scattered after the kids turned the Shack into a massive fighting robot that he wasn’t sure if there would be anything left to find.

But on the other hand, the only thing that had managed to pry open his safe in the past had been straight up dynamite. Meaning anything that had been locked away during last summer’s rigamarole had a fifty-fifty chance at still being there to this day.

Moving the hand to his hair, he turned his gaze to the door. The idea also required him to venture back into the house, which came with the risk of running into Ford again.

And the last thing Stan wanted or needed was to get into another row with him, especially not in front of everyone else.

Not that he wouldn’t deserve getting an earful from Ford after what he’d said earlier, but—

After letting the hand drag back down his face as slowly as possible, he exhaled a groan and made his way across the room to the door. Heck with it—even if Ford still wanted to handle all of this alone, at least Stan could try to be of some use to him and get all his research together in one place. Whether or not he wanted to use it was up to Ford himself, but at least he’d have the option if Stan’s intuition turned out to be correct.

Plus even if it was a longshot, could he really call himself a true gambler if he cowered away from risky odds?

…Not to mention his office was pretty close to the stairs and he could always make a mad dash back to the boat if Ford came up the hall.

— — — — — — —

“Alright, squirts, let’s see who can knock me down!”

Wendy raised her fists with a determined look. “Come on, who wants to go first?”

From the opposite end of the stage, Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth in a giggle. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna act like Bill while we fought?”

“Yeah, no sense in getting out these bad Bill feelings without the Bill part, right?” Dipper added.

With a nod of agreement, Wendy’s hand returned to her eye as a wide, devious smile spread across her face. “Hahahaha, look at me!” she said in that same high-pitched voice from before. “I’m a stupid triangle who throws bad parties and wears a dumb hat!”

While the twins dissolved in a fit of laughter, she stomped around the stage in an exaggerated fashion. “I think I’m the coolest and most powerful guy in the world, but I was defeated by an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face!”

“Don’t forget kittens and tickles!” Mabel jeered in delight.

“I was defeated by kittens, tickles, and an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face! Do-do-dodo, I’m so stupid and terrible!”

She stuck her tongue out for an extended raspberry—an action that only earned more laughter—and made a beckoning motion towards Dipper with her hand. “Come on, Pine Tree!” she taunted. “Betcha can’t knock me on my sorry, triangle butt!”

After a few deep breaths to compose himself, Dipper raised his fists. “Betcha I can!”

“Aww, wait, why’s he get to go first?” Mabel whined. “Didn’t we come over here so I could get out some of my bad Bill feelings?”

“Well, yeah,” Dipper said. “But I mean, I’ve got beef with Bill too. And throwing a couple of punches about it would probably be fun.”

“Rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first?” Wendy suggested.

The twins exchanged another look—and after a quick three rounds, Mabel was left disappointed while Dipper took his spot on the stage near Wendy. However, her sour mood was quickly replaced with a fist pump and several supportive cheers of: “Go, Dipper! Play dirty if you gotta!”

Dipper chuckled. “Mabel, come on, I’m not gonna—”

Without warning, he rushed at Wendy with a charging fury and threw as much of his weight against her body as he could muster. Despite the unexpected attack, Wendy managed to stay solid on her feet—

—until Dipper’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her lower legs and he gave a sharp yank towards his own body, causing her to stumble and fall hard to the stage from a lack of balance.

Still clutching her legs, Dipper stared with a look of complete bewilderment on his face—as if his own successful attempt to bring her down had surprised even himself. “Haha, woah—I can’t believe that worked!” he said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve never actually tried that with anyone but Waddles before!”

“Woo! Go Dipper!” Mabel called, clapping her hands with proud enthusiasm. “I’ll bet if you’d done that to the real Bill, he would’ve been soooooo embarrassed!”

From the stage, Wendy let out a laugh of her own. “She’s not wrong. Also, you can let go of me now.”

With a yelp of surprise, Dipper dropped her legs in an instant. “Ah—sorry!”

Despite the hard thump of her legs against the stage, Wendy was quick to pull herself up into a proper kneeling position. “No worries, dude,” she reassured him with a grin. “Pretty sweet trick, though. Where’d you learn that?”

“A few months back, Waddles found the secret stash of snacks I hid under my bed and kept being real determined to get to them,” he explained. “It was either establish dominance and learn how to drag him out from under the bed by his lower half, or admit defeat to a pig.”

He flexed his arm with a smile. “And guess who didn’t have to admit defeat to a pig~?”

“And now you know how to knock down Wendy!” Mabel called from her spot. “Sounds like someone needs to give Waddles a well-earned thank you later.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just move your snack haul somewhere else?”

“Closet’s too full of Mabel’s sweaters and the dresser makes everything taste like lint,” Dipper said matter-of-factly.

“Well, either way, color me impressed,” Wendy said, before looking to where Mabel was situated. “Alright, Mabel, you’re up next~!”

Dipper approached her, holding his hand out for a hi-five. “Go get ‘em!”

Mabel slapped his hand with gusto as they passed each other and bounded over to where Wendy waited for her. “Okay, ‘Bill’,” she said, raising her fists. “Put ‘em up!”

Winking in return, Wendy slapped a hand back over her eye and thumbed the other across her nose. “Alright, Shooting Star,” she said with a fake sneer. “Let’s see what you got!”

“Woo! Go Mabel!” Dipper cheered from the side.

With a laugh, Mabel took a fighting stance of her own—

—only for her attention to shift towards something else at the far end of the yard.

The other two followed her gaze over to the Stan-O’-War 2, where Stan could be seen exiting the cabin and making his way across the deck towards the ladder. With a smile, Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, Grunkle Stan, over here!”

While his body language was low as his feet touched the ground, Stan perked up at the sound of Mabel’s voice—and his mouth spread into a smile when he turned around to see the rest of the kids gathered with her.

He moved towards them with quick, determined steps—or as quickly and determined as a man his age could move—before he eventually slowed to a stop near the stage. “Whatcha gremlins gremlinin’ about out here?” he asked, propping his arms over the edge.

“They’re wrestling me while I pretend to be Bill,” Wendy explained. “Since they can’t exactly punch the real thing right now, I thought maybe getting a few swings in at someone pretending to be him would do the trick.”

Mabel hurried to Stan and seated herself near him, legs dangling down over the side. “Dipper won his fight!” she said excitedly. “And I was about to fight her next!”

“I pulled her legs out from under her,” Dipper elaborated, as he followed in his sister’s steps and seated himself on Stan’s opposite side.

Stan raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “Wo-ow, first the body hair and now you’re actually winning fights? You really are growin’ into a tried-and-true Pines, ain’tcha, kid?”

He reached up to plap a hand against the top of his hat. “You didn’t hear that from me, though, so don’t go gettin’ a big head about it.”

While Dipper beamed with pride, Wendy shot him a finger gun. “What about you, Mr. Pines?” she asked. “You up for getting a little of that Bill aggression outta your system?”

“Like you gotta ask,” Stan said. “Don’t think I should be wrestlin’ any of you about it, though. Not unless you’re lookin’ to get snapped in half.”

“I take offense at the implication that you could snap me in half,” Wendy said, although her grin implied otherwise.

“I take offense at the implication that I couldn’t.”

He let out a chuckle at that, one that slowly petered out into a halfhearted grumble. A sound that made the twins exchange a look of curiosity before Mabel asked: “So what’ve you been doing out here, Grunkle Stan?”

“Wendy said you went outside to the boat,” Dipper explained. “But she didn’t say why.”

Stan looked to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, she did, did she?”

“What, was I not allowed to tell your beloved great-niece-and-nephew where their great-uncle had gone?” Wendy asked innocently, and leaned over to place a hand atop each of the twin’s heads. “They were just worried about how you missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel added, before her expression fell. “Plus Grunkle Ford was heading down to the basement with Bill, and he said that the two of you were fighting…”

At the mention of Ford, the gruffness in Stan’s expression shifted. “Ford said we were fighting?”

“Nah, Bill did,” Dipper corrected. “Probably to try and get a rise out of us.”

He cast a look beyond Stan over to Mabel. “Which is why Grunkle Ford told us not to listen to anything he says.”

“I’m not listening to him,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, weren’t you were the one who said they seemed really tense in the hallway earlier!”

“All I said was that if Grunkle Stan really needed to punch Bill again, he would’ve done it instead of just punching a wall,” Dipper said, then glanced hesitantly at Stan. “But, uh—is everything okay between you two? You seemed really stressed earlier, and y’know…you didn’t go down with Ford to take care of Bill.”

Stan looked between them, the uncertainty in their features near identical to the faintest hints of concern threatening to peek their way through his own. And with a strained inhale to force it all back down again, he stood up straight and pointed a finger at them. “Ford’s absolutely right, you shouldn’t trust a word outta that jerk’s mouth,” he said. “Whatever’s goin’ on with the two of us, it ain’t any of Bill’s business and it definitely ain’t a fight.”

“But it’s something?” Wendy chimed in.

“It’s somethin’ that ain’t any business a’yours either,” Stan said firmly, giving her a wave of his hand before pointing it back at the younger twins. “And that goes double for you two. Like I told you last night, you’re here to have fun for the summer. Don’t go gettin' yourselves all worked up over all this Bill stuff or the stuff between me and Ford, alright?”

Mabel let her body flump forward until her forehead was gently pressed against the tip of his finger. “But we wanted to have fun over the summer with both you and Grunkle Ford,” she pointed out. “How can we do that if he’s too busy dealing with Bill? Or if you two are fighting?”

His expression softened at this motion and he let his hand fall. “Well, now, I can’t give an answer to that first question—lean back again for a sec, Pumpkin—”

While she obliged, Stan rotated himself around to lean his back against the stage. “Like I was sayin’, I can’t give an answer to that first one,” he continued, draping one arm around her body. “But as for the second—just because the two of us are buttin’ heads about all of this doesn’t—”

He hesitated for a millisecond, before continuing: “—it doesn’t mean we’re fighting. And it doesn’t mean that the rest of the summer’s gonna be a bust, alright? Just means that we’re gonna have to deal with some rough patches first.”

He turned to Dipper, slinking his other arm around his shoulders. “And as for you, you little knucklehead—you heard Ford earlier; he’s got himself a plan to deal with our little yellow headache down in his lab. And if he needs help, he’ll ask for it!”

“Maybe…” Dipper agreed halfheartedly. “Still, I hate to agree with Bill about anything, but he did have a point about Grunkle Ford’s ideas not exactly being the best ones out there after a full night with no sleep…”

“Ugh, he said that?” Mabel asked with a sneer.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, disgust painting his own expression. “He was practically rubbing it in Ford’s face.”

“Hey, hey, what did I say?” Stan said. “Take your own advice, kid, and don’t believe a word outta that little creep's mouth! You know he’s just tryin’ to get under your skin, so he ain’t worth the time of day.”

With a sense that the fight was going to be paused for a bit, Wendy hopped down from the stage and aimed the shrink ray towards the mermaid tank. “You know, Dr. Pines probably would get rid of Bill much quicker if he had someone helping him down there.”

Stan narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, come on, don’t you start now.”

“I’m just saying,” Wendy continued, before pressing the shrink button. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got his reasons for going at it alone—

Once the tank was shrunken down, she strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “—but working together took the little fucker down last time, didn’t it?”

She tilted the small tank forward and let the water—the volume now barely enough to fill a teacup—spill out over the grass. After giving it a few additional shakes for good measure, she spun on her heels back to face the others—

—only to be greeted by mirrored looks of shock on all three of their faces. “...What?”

More surprised blinking followed as they stared at her with mouths agape, before Stan finally slapped a hand to his forehead. “Are you kidding me, Wendy?! I worked so hard not to swear in front of these kids last year and you go and throw all of it out the window in a single, goddamn sentence!”

“I’m just more surprised that you swore at all,” Mabel said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before!”

“Come to think of it, I actually don’t remember hearing anyone swear around here last summer,” Dipper said thoughtfully. “Which is such an oddly specific thing to…I dunno, not hear? Kids swear all the time at school, Mom and Dad swear at home sometimes—”

“I know you let out a very hearty f-word the other day when you bumped your toe on the coffee table,” Mabel added.

“It was the left pinky, I was completely justified and will not apologize.”

“It is weird!” Wendy agreed, before tucking the mermaid tank into the storage box. “Actually, I got this totally wild story to go with it—one I was trying to tell Stan yesterday before all this dumb Bill stuff started.”

After tucking the flashlight back into her belt loop, she raised her hands for emphasis. “Okay, so you remember how the couch we found in the woods last year was like, mega-infested with rats?”

“Dipper screamed so loud when one tried to crawl up his legs!” Mabel said with a grin.

“Once again; moment of weakness, it could’ve easily happened to anyone.”

“So anyway, Soos, Melody and I managed to get most of ‘em out of the house,” Wendy continued. “But after that, something felt different about the town. Not bad different, just…different.”

“Elaborate,” Stan said.

“Well, there was the time when Nate and Lee got together, and have kinda been having an on-off thing going on since,” she said, and began to tick off her fingers. “Then at some point, one of the Manotaurs decided that she felt more comfortable being called Womanotaur instead—all the boys came together and collectively punched a piece of metal until it was dented into the right shape for a celebratory carabiner—”

“Ooh, ooh, and at another point your dad and Mayor Tyler started dating?” Mabel guessed.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that,” Wendy said, looking mildly annoyed for a second. “Couple of folks also started realizing some things about themselves in a similar way, people started swearing a lot more than they did last year—

She tossed her hands in the air. “—and all of that only started happening after the rats were gone!”

“That sounds like a load of stupid fresh from the stupid factory,” Stan said. “But also I wouldn’t put it past this town to have some weird rats be the source of everyone’s inability to swear or for two men to start mackin’ on each other or something.”

“Everything going alright out here?”

Everyone turned to see Soos and Melody approaching from the shack, clipboards and a large box of party decorations in hand. “We figured Wendy would probably be done with cleanup by now,” Melody explained. “So we thought we’d start bringing out the decorations.”

“Did we give you enough time for amusing and exposition-y conversations that would be stimulating enough to get you through the work quicker?” Soos asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just one sec—” Wendy said, and turned back to the Manotaur stage. “Alright, everybody clear outta the way.”

Mabel’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Aww, we’ve gotta finish cleaning up? But we didn’t get to have our fight! Again!”

“Maybe not, but it did distract you long enough to get to the decorating part, right?” Dipper pointed out, and hopped down from the stage. “Wasn’t that the point in the first place?”

“Mmm, I guess,” Mabel said sadly as she hopped down after him. “Still, would’ve been fun to fight Wendy while she’s pretending to be Bill.”

Soos raised an eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “We were working out our feelings,” she explained. “But since we’re moving on to the actual decorating part, how’s about we put a pin in that fight for now and work on drowning this place in decorations?”

She raised the flashlight and took aim for the stage. “Also again, step outta the way or you’re gonna get caught in the crossfire.”

Once the three of them had cleared away from the stage, Wendy once again shrank it to a more manageable size. While she stored it away with the other exhibits, Soos reached a hand into the box of decorations. “Like I said earlier, we’ve got just about every color of streamer under the sun! Plus some colors under the moon, too!”

He pulled out a few rolls of streamers and waved it in front of Mabel. “Who wants to toss a bunch of them up onto the roof like they’re TP-ing the Shack, but with color~?”

Despite Mabel’s initial disappointment towards another postponement of the fight, a smile began to creep its way through her features at Soos’ suggestion. “Oh, like you’ve gotta ask~!”

She reached for one of the rolls before casting a look at Stan. “You wanna help us decorate for the party, Grunkle Stan?”

“Nah, I actually came out here for a reason,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Gotta go fetch somethin’ from my office.”

He gave her a thumbs up as he started making his way towards the porch. “You kids have fun, though, and no more stressin’ about all this Bill stuff, okay?” he said, then looked over to Wendy. “Also lemme take a look at that shrink-thing later, Wendy! You could make a fortune with a doo-dad like that!”

“We’re already workshopping names,” Wendy called in return.

A second thumbs up was his response as he headed up the porch steps and disappeared out of sight. Mabel continued to stare at the porch, optimistic expression sinking back into a look of sadness until Soos gave the streamer bag another shake. “Check it out, Mabel! The lady at the store even said she named one of the shades of pinkish-purple after you! She calls it ‘Pink-Mab-urple!”

After staring for a few more seconds, she finally turned to Soos with a grin. “Uh, why didn’t you start with that, Soos? Slap a roll of Pink-Mab-urple in my hand and let’s get this streamer train rolling!”

— — — — — — — —

With all the stress of the past twenty-four hours, Ford had almost forgotten what it was like to feel relaxed.

Granted, he hadn’t felt truly relaxed since his early childhood. But the past nine months up until Bill’s return had been the closest he’d gotten to recapturing that ease of his adolescence.

And for the fleeting moment before the fairy dust made impact with Bill’s face, a surge of anxiety rushed through him as the possibility of the dust losing its potency after decades of disuse reared its ugly head. That by some cruel twist of fate, it simply wouldn’t work against Bill at all.

But within seconds, Bill slumped like a lifeless ragdoll against the chair’s restraints and Ford could physically feel some of the stress melt away from his being.

Not all of it; there was always a chance that the fairy dust hadn’t worked and that Bill was simply pretending to be knocked unconscious. But the sight alone was enough to grant him the smallest sense of comfort.

Still—

He finally pulled out the hand he had slipped into his picket after tossing the dust, a small pocketknife clutched tightly in his grasp. After a few more seconds, he flicked open the main blade and knelt in front of Bill’s body.

He hesitated—hand trembling around the weapon as the temptation to do more than a simple act of research examination bubbled up inside his chest. But with a shake of his head, he reached for one of Bill’s restrained hands and lightly pressed the tip of the knife into his palm.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt if he was truly faking his unconscious state. And after a few seconds passed with no vocal complaints from Bill, Ford let out an exhale of relief.

He wasn’t faking. At least there was that fact.

But Ford also knew not to let his guard down completely, nor was he foolish enough to think that the fairy dust’s effects would last forever. He had to move quickly.

Reassured that Bill was properly unconscious, Ford moved to the binds that kept Bill tied to the chair. It was a risk to free Bill completely, but his plan wouldn’t work if the body was still bound by the unicorn spell.

He pressed the blade against one rope and inhaled slowly, before bringing it upwards in a clean cut—

—and quickly backed up as the tiny body slacked to the floor in a crumpled heap.

His grip on the knife tightened as he stepped back out of the circle, as if he still expected Bill to drop his facade and finally take advantage of his chance at freedom. But when the fairy dust continued to prove effective, he returned to Bill's side to cut his wrist binds.

Once Bill was completely unbound from all angles, Ford looked to the puppet he had tossed at his feet. Sure, it had been a five-minute effort but Bill was far from picky when it came to his vessels of choice. And if he suddenly decided to start being picky once he’d reawakened—

—well, too bad, Cipher.

His gaze moved back to the unconscious body again, eyes landing on his face. Naturally he’d written down the research he’d gathered, and he hadn’t been lying to Bill when he said it was to figure out the proper dosage of fairy dust to knock him unconscious. The stuff was powerful enough to put a full-grown unicorn to sleep; too much on a body Bill’s size could potentially have disastrous effects.

And even if Ford’s attempt to contact the body’s original owner had failed, his main concerns still lingered—he still had no way of knowing how harming the physical body would affect Bill himself.

That being said, his quick and simple research had provided Ford with a few interesting discoveries.

As he’d initially hypothesized, every studied part of Bill’s vessel really did scream teenager—or at the very least being on the cusp of teenagerhood. A lack of wisdom teeth pinpointed the body as younger than twenty, and his quick count of almost-thirty teeth settled his guess between the ages of about twelve to fifteen.

General appearance seemed to back up that fact; limbs were gangly and awkward—even moreso than what would normally be expected from Bill in a human body—those yellow, catlike eyes sat large on his face, larger than they would on the face of an adult—

It was so odd. Of all the vessels to possess, why would Bill choose that of a human teenager? It certainly added credence to the theory that he hadn’t possessed a choice in the matter, but it also added credence to the theory that he had specifically sought out such a body as a way to purposefully mess with Ford and the rest of his family.

Once again, more theories without a clear answer.

With a huff, Ford set the knife near his boot that was furthest away from Bill—putting down his weapon was another risk, but at least he’d had the advantage if he needed to grab it in a hurry—and reached into his pocket again.

This time his efforts rewarded him with a worn scrap of paper, one he unfolded with both hands and set to the ground in front of him. He might’ve tossed the journals down into the Bottomless Pit, but a proper scientist always had backup options when it came to his research.

…Granted, the backup in question was an old spell he had hidden away during one of those sleep-deprived days between Bill’s betrayal and the portal incident, but it would still prove effective nonetheless.

Thank goodness he had possessed enough foresight to keep it out of the journals and tucked safely between the edge of his desk and the wall, somewhere Bill had clearly not thought to look during the brief periods when his body had succumbed to sleep.

His gaze narrowed with determination at the body again. Omniscient abilities or not, even Bill Cipher possessed blindspots. A piece of paper tucked between the wall and desk. A lack of knowledge on how to collapse the weirdness barrier that surrounded the town.

An extra finger on a hand where it shouldn’t be, or vice versa.

Shaking his head, Ford turned back to the paper. A wiser man might’ve tried to actually use the spell back when he originally discovered it. But a number of variables—no additional person to read the spell while Bill was in his body, no knowledge on whether or not it would actually work as intended, a general lack of sleep across those several days—had prevented Ford from attempting such a method at the time. And once he’d properly returned home after the portal incident, the metal place in his head had already been installed—rendering such a spell mostly pointless.

Until now.

After scribbling down a few additions, he cleared his throat and began to recite aloud: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

He paused, looking to the puppet and body for a moment before continuing with a bit more confidence: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum—”

— — — — — — —

Whenever Bill lounged around in the space between the Nightmare Realm and the mortal world, there was always a clear lack of color.

Whether he was situated inside a dark room, outside over a summoning circle or inside the bedroom closet of an easily-frightened child—always watching, but never seen—the scenery of the mindscape was always draped in a monochromatic curtain of black and white. Here, however—the warm browns of the study had only dulled the slightest amount while still maintaining their general color.

Heck, Bill might not have even noticed the difference at first, had it not been for Ford. Rather than be subjected to more violence at the man’s hand, it was as if time had completely frozen for him. The arm that had tossed the fairy dust into Bill’s face was still outstretched, but remained still and unmoving in the air.

Bill’s mouth curled into a smirk, and he made no effort to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Hehe, what’s wrong, Fordsy~?” he asked, leaning forward. “Can’t access the mindsca—ACK!”

He leaned forward too far and hit the hard ground with a thud and an irritable yelp, face once again squished against the floor. Unlike the other times he’d fallen throughout the past day, however—his body felt noticeably lighter and chair-free.

Grin widening further, he pulled himself off the ground until he was standing up proper. Once on his feet, he took a step to grow more accustomed to using legs again. One step, then two more—before he simply launched his body up into the air to hover in place.

Oh, how he loved the Mindscape to pieces~! Possessing people was fun and all, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of not being able to use his powers.

Not in the Mindscape, though~! Here he could do just about anything he wanted!

Speaking of which—

He cast another look in the inanimate Ford’s direction, while a wicked grin spread across his face. Sure, any harm caused to his body in the mindscape wouldn’t carry over to the real world. But at the same time, fireball or two to the chin would probably get rid of that stupid beard for a few glorious minutes, right? Perhaps a fireball full of spiders?

Why not? The past twelve hours had been so frustrating dull for Bill, and he deserved a nice little treat for himself.

He raised his hand into the air with a giddy little laugh, as he waited for the familiar blue flames to blossom from his palm—

—hey, wait.

Bill snapped his attention to what should’ve been a pitch-black hand engulfed in flames. And while the flames had indeed begun to spread out from his palm and up towards his fingertips, the hand itself was still clearly one made of flesh and blood. Just as flesh and blood as the legs he had wobbled on mere seconds ago as he took a few steps.

Legs that his gaze quickly fell to, realization beginning to take hold of him as his concerns were reaffirmed; black, panted legs attached to a body that was clearly still humanoid.

His hands instinctively moved to touch the opposite arms—as if touching them would somehow transform them back into the twig-thin limbs he was used to having—and then to his chest and stomach—as if touching them would somehow transform him back into his familiar, triangle shape.

When neither attempt bore any results, he blinked a few times in sheer confusion. Okay, so something was clearly wrong. Jumping out of a body into the mindscape should’ve at least reverted his soul back to its usual shape and form. So why was he still stuck in a useless flesh-suit?

He moved his gaze around the study before his attention fell back on Project Mentem, eyes once again locking with one of the unbroken screens. He hadn’t gotten a proper glimpse at his vessel’s face the first time around, but if he was currently situated in the mindscape and able to move freely—

Just before he could make out the shape of his face in the monitor’s reflection, however, the dull colors around it began to distort and—

—well, there was no better term for it than ‘melt’.

Every color in the room—from the warm browns of the nearby shelves and desk, to the dull grays of Ford’s entire being—started to melt towards the floor, leaving behind the usual, monochromatic palette of the Mindscape.

And once all the colors reached the floor, they slowly converged into a muddy blob in the very center of the room. Converge, then shift into a single tint of orange.

Or if Bill wanted to get specific with it—tangerine.

Oh.

Great.

Sure enough, the blob of tangerine began to twist and morph into a clear silhouette of the shelduck, a loud, giddy laugh echoing through the study even before their beak had fully taken form. “Wow, it looks like someone’s had a busy first day, huh?” they said, placing their hands on their hips once both appeared. “Not even back in town for a full twenty-four hours and they’ve already brought you down to the study for research.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed in their direction. Oh, contract or not, he was going to pluck every single one of their feathers out with the Multiverse’s rustiest pair of tweezers once this was all over!

For the time being, he simply folded his arms across his chest with an unimpressed huff. “Yeesh, took you long enough to get your butt down here, Birdbrain!” he said irritably. “Do you know what kinda day I’ve ha—oh, actually, you just said you did, didn’t you?”

He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, if you could see what kinda day I was having, why haven’t you stepped in yet? Thought you were all about helping people in need or whatever?”

He made a casual gesture in Ford’s direction. “Well, I’ve sure needed some help getting away from him!”

Tangy held up their own hands with a guilty smile. “Okay, okay, I realize you have some concerns,” they said. “I don’t blame you, you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”

One hand went to their forehead. “And admittedly, I’m mostly here because I realized I forgot to tell you a few things!”

“Oh, gee, you think?” Bill said, moving the gesture towards himself. “How about you start with explaining why you kept the fact that you’d be sticking me in a vessel like this a secret? Or why I’m still a pile of meat, bones and nerves in the mindscape instead of my usual form?”

“You—wait…”

They lowered their hand to give him a perplexed tilt of their head. “You mean you haven’t figured out what’s happening yet?”

“I mean, I figured out that you think you’re clever,” Bill said with a roll of his eyes. “Sticking me in a vessel this small for your dumb game, all without telling me ahead of time? That’s real cute, Birdbrain.”

A shrug, one accompanied by a smirk. “Hehe, what, did my short jokes bother you that bad?”

“No, they didn’t, but—”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

The sound of Ford’s voice echoing through the mindscape turned both their attention to the ceiling, the imaginary mindscape shaking and rattling around them as he continued: “Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Bill’s brow furrowed at the sound, attention moving back to the still-inanimate Ford. So that was Sixer’s big plan, huh? To try his hand at a transfer spell while the vessel was unconscious?

That sneaky jerk, always trying to go behind his back—

“Oh, so, he’s trying that, huh?”

And back his attention and furrowed brow went to Tangy. Speaking of jerks, the feathered jerk needed to stop stealing his lines and get to their jerk point already! “You said you had something to tell me,” he said, hovering closer to them. “So hurry up and spill the beans before Sixer succeeds in doing whatever he’s doing out there!”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

“Quickly, Birdbrain, we don’t have all day!”

Tangy looked to the ceiling again. “Yeah, I dunno if I’ll actually have the time to cover everything at this rate,” they said, and held up a finger. “But he won’t succeed in getting you outta that body, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

“Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Between the chanting from Ford and the crypticness from Tangy, Bill could physically feel his face reddening with anger. “Birdbrain, if you don’t explain right now—”

“Sorry, don’t have time!” they said quickly. “But I promise that this won’t be the last time we chat, and I can cover everything else the next time we do! Plus there’s always the thing on your wrist—”

“Wait, the what—”

There was a flash of light before all the color that had congregated to make Tangy’s form sank back into the floor and slowly started returning to the rest of the room.

And as the last little bits of brown and grays situated themselves back into place, Bill’s hovering body hit the floor again with a hard thud.

His eyes snapped closed on impact, then snapped open again with a shout.

— — — — — — —

“—aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

With a final recital of the spell, Ford leaned back with another shuddery exhale of relief. Whether his attempt to shift Bill from one vessel to the other proved successful or not, the spell still required a few minutes of waiting for the end result.

While he waited, he let his gaze move once again to the unconscious child’s forehead. It had given him pause upon observation; not for any research purposes, but for the birthmark that waited beneath that mop of blonde hair—

“AAH!”

Ford jumped at the sound of a yell echoing through his study, the surprise of Bill suddenly moving again causing him to stumble backwards and trip over—and sever—the rope circle he had created on the floor.

Leaving a few inches of empty space between the ends of the rope.

Bill’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as he snapped back to consciousness, his screams of surprise petering out into sharp inhales of breath while he jerked up into a sitting position.

And with a final, shuddery exhale to ground himself—Yeesh, this body was weird. Who was in charge of designing a pile of flesh who needed oxygen, but not too much oxygen at once, to live?—his gaze locked to a still-floored Ford.

He stared, Ford stared back.

His functional pupil flitted down to the severed circle—

“Cipher, don’t you DARE!”

And Bill took off like a flash in the direction of the emergency exit staircase.

Ford was after him in seconds—rope and knife in hand—and the heavy thud of his boots against the medal stairs rung throughout the study over Bill’s maniacal cackling as he hurried for the cellar door.

Perhaps leaving fairy dust in a bag for over thirty years hadn’t been the best idea after all.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, so party preparations for today…”

Melody tapped her clipboard with the end of her pen, before turning to Mabel at her left. “We’ve got Mabel on the streamers—”

Mabel held up the rolls in her hands with a look of pride. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years!”

“Please don’t actually give me that much more work to do,” Wendy said from her right.

“...You’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years in theory,” Mabel corrected herself. “In actuality, I’ll be cleaning them up myself so Wendy doesn’t have to!”

While Wendy gave her a thumbs up, Melody looked to her list again. “And we’ve got Dipper on balloon duty—”

Dipper shifted the countless packs of balloons in his embrace to one arm so he could give her a salute. “There won’t be a single bare table, chair, or loose area where a balloon can easily be tied to when I’m done with this place!”

“Just be careful not to tie too many to the shack itself,” Soos chimed in. “Otherwise they could, like, carry it up and away in the air!”

He made a series of floating motions with his hand. “You know like…WOOSH! Just floating all the way up into the sky!”

“Soos, you realize that’s probably impossible, right?” Dipper pointed out. “Do you know how many balloons we’d need to be able to rip through the foundation alone? They’d lose their helium way faster than I could inflate the necessary amount—”

“Poke!”

“Hey!”

While Dipper slapped his now-freed hand to his cheek where Mabel had poked him, she waved her arms around in a playful fashion. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Dipper~!” she teased. “I’ve seen gnomes, giant Manotaurs and dream demons, but balloons lifting up a house is impossible~!”

She leaned over to poke her again, and he nudged her back in amused retaliation. “Hey, come on, those things are actually real,” he pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t believe in a floating balloon house if it was right in front of me, but you know…it’s gotta prove itself possible first.”

“Balloons and the possibility of discovering something new,” Melody said, pressing a finger to her clipboard. “Check! Alright, what’s next?”

“I think we’ll wanna get the tables set up as soon as possible,” Soos chimed in. “I know we’ve still got hours until the party, but we’ve still gotta get all the food ready, right?”

He made a walking motion with his hand. “And who wants to make a buncha food, then carry a buncha tables outside—and then have to go back and carry out that same buncha food from before all in one go?” A shrug. “Just saying, babe, it’d be smart to get the tables out first, then focus on covering them with the food!”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Melody said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “I’ll help you get the first one out here if you want.”

She flashed the others a smile. “Wendy, do you want to help us with tables or stay out here and decorate with the twins?”

“Hey, I’ll take tossing up balloons and streamers over having to carry whole tables back and forth,” Wendy said.

Dipper looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “...Don’t you have a shrink ray—oh, you’re not mentioning it just so you don’t get stuck carrying tables, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.”

“Have fun, dudes!" Soos called to them, as the two of them made their way to the porch. "Make this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party!”

“You got it, Soos!” Mabel said with a salute. “Like I said earlier: by the time I’m done with this place, you’ll be fishing old streamers out of the gutters for years!”

A pause, before she added as an afterthought: “...Again, I mean that metaphorically, and not in the way that will give Wendy more work!”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a light nudge as the adults disappeared inside the house. Once they were out of sight, she turned her attention towards the yard before them. “Alright, so what side should we get to decorating first?”

BANG!

A loud clattering of the nearby cellar doors caused everyone to jump in surprise, right before Bill came barrelling out of the darkness with a shrill laugh—

“GET BACK HERE!”

—while the sound of Ford’s voice thundered after him from the cellar.

Bill skidded to a stop in the dirt, taking a brief second to catch his breath until he looked over to where the kids stood.

They stared, he stared back—

“Quick, somebody grab him!” Ford’s voice yelled from the cellar, seconds before he himself appeared in the doorway.

—and Bill spun on his heels before sprinting towards the nearby wood.

Despite their initial shock, Wendy was quick to the draw with the shrink ray. Rather than shoot a beam at Bill, however, she aimed it towards something in the line of his path—a small rock that suddenly quintupled in size in a matter of seconds.

So few seconds that Bill didn’t have enough time to slow to a halt before his face and body slammed against the rock, the impact knocking him off his already-wobbly feet and bringing him down to the dirt with a thud.

His escape attempt was momentarily forgotten as he pressed a hand to his injured nose, before casting a bitter glare in Wendy’s direction. “Oh, that’s real mature, Red!” he called. “I suppose your next trick involves painting a tunnel on the side?”

“Haha!” Mabel said delightedly. “Nice one, Wendy!”

“Yeah, I’m really liking this thing,” Wendy said, with a small twirl of the flashlight.

“Did you hear me?!” Ford said sharply—probably sharper than intended—as he stepped out into the yard. “Someone catch him before he gets to the woods!”

“Oh, right—”

As Bill sprung back to his feet and took off in another direction, the rest of the group rushed after him in a frantic hurry. And despite the burning sensation in Bill’s lungs, he was cackling with wicked delight at the others’ misfortune as he rounded the side of the shack near the porch—

“Gotcha!”

—right before a large hand snagged the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards.

Despite Bill’s desperate attempts to struggle free, Stan’s grip remained strong as he hoisted him up in the air. “Nice try, pal.”

If Bill could feel his face reddening in anger within the Mindscape, the sensation was tenfold in the real world as he glared daggers at Stan. “Put me down!”

“Not happening, Pyramid Face.”

Ford came into view around the corner, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his chest as he drew closer. “Nice catch, Stanley…”

“Maybe to you, it is!” Bill protested, with a pointed glare at Stan. “Thought you were busy pouting on the boat, or whatever.”

“And I thought you were busy dyin’, or whatever,” Stan shot back, before looking back to Ford again. “Need to tie him up, or—”

“Right, right,” Ford said, unfurling the rope he’d snagged from the study. “Hold him out?”

While Stan extended him out to Ford—the sight of Bill’s body dangling as he struggled to break free reminiscent of a scruffed kitten—the kids also rounded the side of the house in a rush. At the sight of Stan holding Bill, they too slowed to a stop with looks of both relief and mild confusion.

Confusion that Mabel finally vocalized with a: “What’s going on?”

“Aside from the obvious escape attempt on Bill’s end?” Dipper asked.

Despite his struggles, Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh at Dipper's remark. “Aww, look who has eyes and a brain that can string together two coherent thoughts. You’re really movin’ up in the world, aren’tcha, Pine Tree—hey, hey! I felt that, Stanford!”

He shot a sour look at Ford, who had already started the process of rewrapping the rope around his body to restrain him. Restraint with clear intent on Ford’s end to be as uncomfortable for Bill as possible. And at Bill’s confrontation, Ford locked eyes with him and pulled the ends even tighter with an insincere: “Oops.”

While he moved to loop them again—and while Bill continued to try and struggle free—Stan raised an eyebrow. “Gonna guess whatever you were tryin’ down there didn’t work?”

“Oh, no, it worked perfectly~!” Bill replied in Ford’s place. “Clearly I’m now stuck in one of Sixer’s badly-made arts and crafts and—actually, I don’t exactly know what he planned on doing with me after that, so I can’t spin some dramatic yarn about it, but the point is that it obviously worked~!”

He gave Stan a cutesy bat of his eyelashes, which quickly fell into a flat look. “Asking questions like that is why you’re the dumber, sweatier twin. You realize this, right?”

Despite Stan’s fists tightening around Bill’s jacket in one hand and the stack of papers in the other, he kept his reply limited to an enraged stare that could’ve burned through a sheet of metal. From the side where the rest of the group stood, however, Mabel’s features lit up with intrigue as she took a cautious step closer. “Did he say arts and crafts project?”

“Pay him no mind, Mabel,” Ford instructed, as he fiddled with the rope further. “As I told you earlier, nothing he says is worth taking into account.”

Despite another tight yank of the ropes against his chest, Bill managed a disapproving tut. “Wooooow, Sixer, and here I was being open and honest to them about our exciting adventures down in the study,” he scolded. “I realize that the concept of honestly and openness is completely foreign to you, but there’s no time like the present to learn—ACK!”

Ford’s next rope tug forced a strangled gasp out of Bill’s chest that even he couldn’t mask with a snarky comment, and one that earned an uncomfortable wince from Dipper. “Grunkle Ford, I know he’s being a massive jerk and would probably deserve it, but you might suffocate him if you’re not careful.”

“Also what were you doing down in the study, Doc?” Wendy added, taking a step forward as well. “If you tell us, then he doesn’t have to, right?”

Despite his discomfort, Bill flashed her a small grin. “Doc? Hey, that’s not a bad one! Might add that one to the ol’ mental rolodex~!”

He tilted his head in Ford’s direction. “And she’s got a point, Fordsy! I mean, you can’t exactly get mad at me for spilling the beans when you aren’t willing to go and do it yourself, right!” he pointed out with a cackle. “Once again, we know you’re not exactly the expert at being honest with people, but I repeat my previous sentiments of ‘no time like the present to learn’!”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or I guess it’s the best time for you mortals to learn, since you’re lacking one of those nifty little time dispensers or any sort of ultimate power like yours truly. But you get the idea!”

With a slow, shuddery exhale, Ford slackened his grip on the rope and reached around to loosen his previous loops. “Fine, Wendy—” he said, with strong emphasis on her name. “I suppose filling everyone in on the details wouldn’t cause any harm now.”

“Subtle,” Bill remarked, with an attempt—a failed attempt—to pull his arms free once the ropes were looser. “Also I bet you wish you hadn’t freed my hands now, huh?”

“As I informed Dipper and Stan earlier,” Ford continued. “I was attempting to move Bill’s soul from one vessel to another. I used fairy dust to knock him out in a second unicorn barrier and tossed a sock puppet into the circle, before I cut the binds that held him to the chair and attempted a transfer spell that would—well, as I said before, move him from one vessel to the other.”

“Fairy dust?” Mabel repeated, perking up further. “Sock puppets?”

“Magical, ain’t it, Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “But as I pointed out before, I’m still stuck in this body and not some badly-made puppet that Sixer put together in five minutes. So it was all for nothing~!”

His smile faltered as he glared back at Ford. “By the way, a transfer spell? That was your big, secret plan?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s so juvenile, I’m almost offended at your laziness. Props to you for finding one in the first place, though—didn’t realize you had one on hand! Too bad it didn’t work!”

“Woooow, and here I thought you were completely serious when you said it worked earlier,” Stan said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Of course you would, Goldfish,” Bill shot back with a smug grin. “Like I said; dumber and sweatier~! Not just pretty words tossed at you by your childhood bullies!”

Stan’s shoulders tensed further as Ford finally tied the rope off with a sturdy knot. “That should do it,” he said, then made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Alright, you can pass him over to me now.”

Stan stared at the hand, then down at Bill—earning another one of those toothy smiles of his; having a mouth really was a detriment to everyone but himself—before turning his gaze fully back to Ford.

Ford’s gaze was locked on him in return, any words he would’ve preferred to say silenced by the presence of Bill. Not just his presence but that of the kids, of Wendy—perhaps even by the presence of Stanley himself. An apology for earlier events lingering at the back of his throat, desperate to push itself out into the open, desperate to reach Stanley’s ears—

An apology almost identical to the one that Stan couldn’t bring himself to vocalize, the sheer vulnerability of such an action forcing him to avert his eyes from Ford to the kids, to Wendy, and finally to—

“No, no, don’t mind me,” Bill piped up. “If you two feel like fighting again, be my guests! And this time, you don’t even have a hallway to go out and fight in, so I get a front-row seat, baby~!”

Stan glowered at him before finally passing him off to Ford with a huff, one that allowed him a chance to push of that vulnerability back again.

Most of it, at least. “So, uh—that plan of yours,” he began slowly. “It really didn’t work, then?—don’t you say a word, Cipher!”

He directed that last part at Bill, who simply grinned in response as Ford shook his head. “No, unfortunately it didn’t work. As Bill is so keen on reminding us, his soul remained inside his current vessel even after the transfer attempt.”

He held up a finger. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m out of ideas. If anything, I did learn a few interesting things that might allow me to try a method I initially rejected.”

“Oh, because of the whole—” Dipper began, before his gaze shifted to Bill again. “You know, the stuff we talked about earlier—”

“Precisely,” Ford replied before Bill could get a word in. “While my initial theory wasn’t proven wrong by the failed attempt, it did prove that—”

He paused and returned his attention to Bill for a moment, who gave another cutesy bat of his eyelashes. “Well, Sixer, we’re waiting~?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy started, then continued forward until she’d joined the adults proper. “Turn him towards me for a sec.”

With a confused look from all of them—Bill included—Ford obliged and held Bill out further in front of him. Once she was at a safe angle, Wendy leaned over and slapped a hand over each of his ears, earning a very irritable “Oh, COME ON—” from him for her efforts. “Would’ve covered his mouth too, but I’m not looking for another rabies shot,” Wendy explained. “Plus he seems like the kinda guy who’s going to yell and whine about me doing this, and it’ll muffle anything you have to say.”

“I’ll bet you mortals think you’re SO advanced for possessing external ear lobes!” Bill yelled, whipping his head back and forth. “Well, the joke’s on you! If I were in my usual form, I wouldn’t possess such a horrible evolutionary flaw! In fact, I’ll probably just get rid of ears altogether once I’m outta this stupid body—”

“Wow, smart call,” Dipper said.

Despite Bill’s best efforts to shake her off, Wendy’s hands remained firm against his head as she raised an eyebrow at Ford. “Alright, you wanted to say something?”

Ford blinked a few times in surprise, but cleared his throat with his free hand before responding: “As I was saying and as I told Stan and Dipper this morning, I was originally hesitant to cause any lethal harm to Bill’s current vessel, due to—well—”

“The fact that he looks like Dipper?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, so you guys saw that too, huh?” Wendy asked with a grimace.

“We’ve seen it, acknowledged it—” Dipper added quickly. “But the main issue outside of that was that Grunkle Ford didn’t know if killing Bill’s vessel would actually kill Bill himself, since he’s a mind demon and stuff.”

“I had those concerns,” Ford continued. “But the failed transfer attempt proved a few things to me that I did not know at the time of those assumptions. I don’t have a lot of time to get into everything right now since, well—”

He gestured to the still-deafened Bill, who shot him a dirty look. “I know you’re talking about me! You think I don’t know your ‘showing off something as you talk about it’ gesture?”

“My point is—while the transfer failed, it taught me one important thing,” Ford said, while Bill droned on in anger. “While it’d still be dangerous to outright try killing Bill, he is unable to be pulled out of his current vessel.”

“...Meaning—?” Stan asked.

“Meaning that if he’s unable to be forcibly pulled out of his current vessel, there’s a high chance he also cannot leave of his own accord,” Ford explained. “Meaning he’s stuck. And if he’s stuck, there’s at least one specific thing we can try to get him out of our hair for the time being.”

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

“I’m going to take him down to the bunker and place him in one of the cryogenic chambers.”

“You’re gonna freeze him?” Wendy asked, then paused. “Woah, woah, time out—you had the idea to freeze him this whole time and you spent this long not doing that?”

“Well, to be fair, the process has only ever been used on the supernatural,” Ford explained. “I have no idea what kind of effect it’ll have on a human body, and the last thing I wanted to do is actually cause harm beyond repair to Bill’s vessel, for previously-explained reasons. But since my attempts to either contact the previous host or expunge him from the vessel were failures, it seems like a safe enough method to try next.”

“Hello?! Did we forget I was here?!”

Bill continued to shake his head about in an attempt to free his ears from Wendy’s hands, and Ford gave a nod to her to pull them back. “Anyway, what I told you is the current plan,” he said, while she obliged. “It shouldn’t take me too long to complete, and I should be back within an hour or so.”

“What, you’re going to the—” Dipper’s gaze bounced over to Bill for a split second “—the place we just talked about by yourself?”

“Oh, great recovery, Pine Tree,” Bill said. “By the way, it’s cute how you think that someone who’s been around the block as much as me doesn’t know how to read lips.”

He flashed the group a wide grin. “So if you guys wanna prattle on about how Sixer’s going to take me down to the bunker to pop me into one of those freezy-tubes like I were a pack of Mustelid Sticks, then by all means~!”

At the sight of their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads in surprise, Bill cackled in delight. “Wait, did I seriously get it right the first time?”

And as they attempted to settle their features back into more neutral expressions, he let out another elated cackle that rocked his entire body. “Haha, wow, I can’t believe that bluff actually worked!” he taunted. “I mean, it was my third guess, after ‘ultra-powerful vacuum’ and ‘fishing around inside my vessel’s ear with the soul-equivalent of those garbage-grabbing hooks’, but man, you guys gotta get better poker faces!”

“Yeah, well, so what if you’re right?” Mabel added, folding her arms across her chest. “What’re you gonna do about it to stop us from locking you up?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something~!” Bill said with a grin. “The universe does seem to have me in its favor when it comes to last-minute rescues~!”

He waggled his eyebrows at the group. “Do you get it? Because you jerks tried to kill me and I—hey!”

His smug look melted into annoyance as Ford gave his body a warning shake. “Don’t you worry about him, kids,” Ford said to the others. “No matter what he says, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s out of our hair for good.”

“Going back to what Mabel was saying, though,” Stan said. “You’re really gonna handle this all by yourself?”

“Yeah, don’t you need someone to, like, push the buttons in the security room?” Wendy asked, then added as an afterthought: “I figure since he guessed the plan, we can talk about it freely now.”

“Hey, yeah!” Dipper agreed. “There’s no way you’ll be able to do the code all by yourself, especially not with Bill in your hands!”

“Once again, very hurtful that people are talking about me like I’m not even here,” Bill said with feigned offense. “But the peanut gallery raises a good point. Pretty sure that unless you’ve gained the ability to grow another pair of arms—not that you’d tell me if you did, I guess—you’ll be squished flatter than—well, me~!”

A pause, before he flashed Ford a grin. “And while imitation’s the sincerest form of flattery and I highly suggest you try it, I’d rather not be involved in said imitation attempt myself. You know what I mean?”

Rather than respond, Ford pressed his free hand to his chin. “I suppose the security room does provide me with an issue I hadn’t previously considered…”

Stan’s features lit up with a spark of inspiration, and his grip once again tightened around the stack of papers in his hand. “Hey, you know, if the cat’s outta the bag on that bunker plan,” he said, and began to flip through them with one hand. “I might have somethin’ that—”

“No, Stanley.”

It was said too quickly, far too quickly for either of their liking. And Stan’s thumbing through the papers was halted with a deflated look, one that earned a remorseful expression from Ford in return. “I—I appreciate you catching Bill for me, but I can handle this myself,” he said quickly, regaining his composure. “I’ll…simply deactivate the security room before I bring Bill through. It might add some extra time to my bunker venture, but it would make for an easy and safe transfer to the main lab area.”

“But I—”

“Yeah, so why don’t you do what I told you to do earlier, Goldfish,” Bill chimed in. “And run along and let the adults handle things here?”

Red once again flooded Stan’s vision, the stack of papers dropped to the ground beside him as he bared both fists in a surge of anger. “Oh, you wanna see how an adult handles things, you little—”

He grit his teeth together as his vision shifted between Ford and the kids, before he exhaled as much anger as he could possibly expel in one breath and scooped the papers back up off the ground with a halfhearted “Forget it.” before storming off towards the Stan-O-War-II.

Ford opened his mouth the slightest amount to object, to call him back, to say something—

“Yeesh, the temper on that guy,” Bill spoke up with a laugh. “No wonder you avoided him for so long, I’d go nuts having to deal with that all the time!”

—and his grip tightened on Bill before he turned to the nearby wood. “As I said before, it shouldn’t take me more than a few hours at most to disable the security system,” he called back to the kids. “Once it’s done, Bill will be out of our hair for the time being.”

“If it works,” Bill added with a laugh. “I mean, your silly little transfer spell didn’t work, so who’s to say—hey, hey, quit shaking me!”

Bill narrowed his eyes at Ford, who returned it with another shake of his body as he stepped from the yard into the forest underbrush—

“Grunkle Ford, wait!”

—and spun back around at the sound of Mabel’s voice, dirt crunching beneath her shoes as she hurried towards him. “I know Soos asked you earlier and you didn’t respond,” she said. “But…do you think you’ll be done with the security room in time for the party?”

“Yeesh, Shooting Star,” Bill piped up. “You’re all in the presence of greatness here, and all you can think about is some silly party?”

A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you focusing on yourselves over anything else. You Pineses don’t do enough of that anymore. But c’mon, I’m dyin’ over here!”

He flashed Ford a grin, one far more teeth than actual amusement. “Although I guess that’s the goal here, isn’t it, Sixer?”

“I…don’t have an answer to that question, Mabel,” Ford replied to Mabel. “While I have confidence in my own skill to deactivate the security room without issue, there’s always a chance that things could go astray in the process. If all goes according to plan, I should at least make it back for the tail end of things. If it doesn’t—”

“If it doesn’t, too bad!” Bill interrupted gleefully. “No party for Sixer~!”

This time, Ford didn’t even bother to acknowledge him as he turned and continued onwards into the woods. Mabel didn’t budge from her spot, keeping her eyes locked on Ford's back until both of them disappeared from sight between the trees.

“Well, I still don’t know if him and Stan actually fighting or not,” Wendy chimed up from behind her. “But either way, that could’ve gone way better.”

“No kidding,” Dipper added. “And I know this goes without saying, but Bill wasn’t exactly making things any easier.”

“You’d think dying would’ve taught him how to shut up a little bit,” Wendy agreed with a huff. “Bet you anything Stan was a second away from swinging on him again.”

“A bet I’d never take because you’d win it easy.”

Mabel kept her attention on the woods for a few more seconds, her entire posture sinking as she finally turned back to face them. “And now Grunkle Ford’s gonna be at the bunker all day, doing secret bunker stuff all by himself,” she said sadly. “He might not even make it back in time for the party tonight…”

She reached over to grab one of her sweater sleeves with one hand. “Guess that’s not the most important thing right now, though, huh? Guess it’s getting rid of Bill first…”

Dipper crossed his arms with a sigh. “He never did tell us how he was going to handle that alone,” he pointed out, with his own unsure look towards the forest. “I mean, I know he said he’s gonna deactivate the security room. But how’s he going to get into the bunker at all?”

“Hey, yeah,” Wendy said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t he need to climb up and reach the lever? How’s he going to do that when he’s gotta keep a hand on Bill?”

Realization painted both Dipper and Mabel’s features at the same time, and their gazes immediately snapped to each other. “Grunkle Ford isn’t letting Stan help him—” Dipper began.

“—but he didn’t say we couldn’t come help,” Mabel finished knowingly.

“And even if he said he could handle the Bill stuff by himself, he never said anything about getting help with the bunker stuff,” Wendy added with a wink.

“Plus, he’ll probably need at least one other person to watch Bill so he can focus on the security room!” Dipper said thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. “I know it’s not technically a loophole dodge, but I mean…how’s he supposed to focus on dismantling a dangerous security system if he’s got to keep one eye on Bill?”

“And keeping that eye on Bill for someone else will probably be super easy if he’s tied up,” Mabel agreed. “I mean, all he can do right now is talk, right? And it’s not like we’re not gonna listen to anything he says!”

“Sounds to me like we’re all in agreement on this ‘go and help that stubborn old man out’ train,” Wendy said. “So you two gonna get a move on towards the bunker, or what?”

“Oh, should we both go?” Dipper asked, directing the question at her, then Mabel. “I think one of us would be more than enough, right?”

“One should be good,” Mabel said with a nod. “And we can always keep in touch with our cell phones, right?”

“Signal might be hit or miss underground, but it’s not like I can’t just step out and guard the exit as I text,” Dipper agreed.

“Yeah, y—wait, you?” Mabel tilted her head in confusion. “You wanted to go?”

“Oh, was that not—” Dipper began. “Did you want to go instead? I thought you’d want to stay and decorate for the party?”

“Yeah, plus we have no idea if Dr. Pines will actually be finished by the time the party starts,” Wendy added. “Are you sayin’ you’d be willing to miss a party of this size, Mabel?”

“Eh, there’s always gonna be other parties,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, I trust you two to follow Soos’ vision of ‘making this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party.’”

She looked towards the woods again. “Plus, I…I said I wanted to spend some time with Dr. Grunkle Ford, right? What better way to do that then to help him with all this Bill stuff?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth with a giggle. “Oops, I mean…all this bunker stuff.”

“Fair point, fair point,” Dipper agreed with a nod. “Alright, then you go help Ford, and keep me posted on what’s happening! And I’ll snap as many pics as I can of the party for you, just so you don’t feel too left out.”

“You’re the best, Bro-Bro~!” Mabel said, smile widening as she looked between them. “Alright, I’d better get going then, huh?”

“Good luck, Mabel!” Wendy said, and flashed her a thumbs up. “And be sure to drop a couple of swears at the little triangle bastard in my honor.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Mabel said excitedly, then pressed a hand to her chin. “Uh…which ones should I use?”

“Whatever one you want, so long as I don’t get in trouble for it.”

Mabel thought for a second. “Bill’s a…dumbass?”

Wendy slapped a hand to her mouth to try and bite back a laugh. “Good try, but maybe put a little bit more oomph behind it? C’mon, say it with your whole chest!”

“Bill’s a dumbass!” she tried again with more confidence.

“Yeah, atta girl!” Wendy said, pumping a fist into the air.

Dipper let out a laugh of delight, pressing a hand to his own mouth. “He really is a dumbass, huh?”

“The biggest one!” Mabel said, clapping her hands together. “Dumbass triangle!”

“Alright, alright, let’s spread ‘em out a bit, huh?” Wendy suggested. “Swears are fine and good, but you use too many of them at once and they lose their punch.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Mabel said with a nod. “Better save them for when I get to the bunker, huh?”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a two-finger salute, one accompanied by a thumbs up from Dipper. And after a confusing attempt to mirror both at the same time, Mabel bounded off through the underbrush in the direction where Ford had gone.

The two of them watched her go in silence, before Wendy looked down to Dipper. “So, you wanna get started on those streamers while we toss out a couple more swears about the little jerk?”

“Like you’ve gotta ask,” Dipper said, before they turned back towards the Shack. “I know for a fact I’ve got a couple of those hearty f-words saved up just for him.”

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art)#(Lots of Stan; Ford and Bill)

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vermil1ion-sky · 2 years ago

Text

Reader getting injured in a fight and trying to act tough.

Characters: Scaramouche.

Just a little something to start posting aghdhgfhjd

"You're an idiot." You turn to glare at Scaramouche, who stands in the doorway of the bathroom. "Careless."

"Alright I get it okay?" With a sigh, you turn back to the mirror, cleaning the fresh cuts on your face. "Would it kill you to be nice just once?"

"This is me being nice." Scaramouche frowns. "I could say worse things right now, and it'd all be justified"

You roll your eyes, still carefully cleaning your injuries. "It's not my fault I got ambushed, the forest has good places to hide..."

"Or maybe you're just not observant enough of your surroundings."

You wave a hand dismissively at him and out of the corner of your eye, you can tell he's really annoyed. Yeah, you got a couple of scratches out of a fight, you think that’s a normal thing to happen

"Whatever. I could've dealt with them fine without you jumping in."

Scaramouche scoffs, crossing his arms while looking amused. "Oh yeah? Because from where I stood, you'd be fertilizer in the Avidya forest had I not 'jumped in' then." He takes a step forward making sure he's in your line of sight and smirks mockingly. "Would it kill you to admit you needed my help?"

You push him away slightly, turning to look at him with an annoyed look. "If you're not going to help then I suggest you get out and do something else other than mocking me."

He doesn't move, just stares as you try to mentally block him out. You wipe the largest cut on your cheek a little too harsh and it makes you flinch. "Damn it..."

Scaramouche sighs and opens his hand towards you, like he’s waiting for you to give him something. You look at him quizzically. "...What?"

He definitely looks more annoyed than before, grabbing the cloth you were using to clean your cuts. You’re about to protest, and he grabs your chin, making you turn towards him. “H-Hey! What-”

“Be quiet.” Scaramouche keeps your head steady and, to your surprise, he picks up on cleaning your wounds. He sees you looking at him confused and he simply raises an eyebrow. “...You said I should leave if I wasn’t going to help... so...”

‘I don’t want to leave you’

Is what you interpret from his words, or lack thereof, and you feel a fluttering in your heart, praying to any archon listening that he didn’t notice the way your heartbeat accelerated and how the tip of your ears feel warmer.

You stay still, his grip on your face surprisingly... soft, for someone as brash as him. He’s entirely focused on making sure your cuts won’t get infected, he passes a particularly sore spot, making you flinch but his hand keeps you in place.

His thumb softly caresses your cheek, maybe a reflex or maybe it’s his own way of comforting you.

Soon enough, he finishes. He throws the now used rag to the trash, letting go of your face. You stand there awkwardly for a little while, unsure of what to say, until you decide to break the silence.

“... Thanks...” Scaramouche looks at you and you expect him to tease you, to call you the names you’re both used to throwing at each other. It’s how your relationship works; tough words easily mistaken by outsiders as a mutual hatred, as two enemies merely tolerating the other, about to rip each others’ throats any second. Little would those people know it’s just your strange way of showing affection.

Strange, but it works well enough for the both of you.

Scaramouche simply sighs, rubbing the back of his neck - a telltale sign that he’s embarrassed, you’ve come to learn. “...t’s fine”

“...I mean it... Not just now but, um, before...” You look away, refusing to make eye contact; refusing to acknowledge that you’re about to say ‘you were right’ to your boyfriend of all people. “I really did need the help so, uh... y’know...”

The air is silent, awkwardness hanging in the air as you’re both standing there, not saying anything... The tension slowly feels like its draining everything from you.

So with a deep breath and a lot of courage, you step forward towards Scaramouche, and you grab his face, lightly squishing his cheeks with your hands. Before he’s able to protest, you pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek and whatever he was going to say dies in his tongue instantly.

“... Thank you for looking after me.”

What you thought would’ve been a solution to the silence ended up making it worse, as the air feels almost suffocating now. Slowly but surely, you feel your face heat up with embarrassment; the way Scara looks at you with surprise plastered all over his face certainly isn’t helping. You quickly let go of his face as if the mere touch burns your skin.

You turn to leave and maybe hide in your bed until the embarrassment passes but you’re janked back by your wrist, twisting around and clashing into a strong pair of arms, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss that you can’t help but melt into. All the emotions Scaramouche can’t show with words, you can feel in the kiss.

He pulls away first, keeping his face close to yours. There’s a tenderness to his gaze that you rarely see, a vulnerability he shows to no one but yourself. His hand cups your cheek and you instinctively lean into his touch, craving whatever form of affection he’s willing to give right now; his thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he leans forward close to your ear, his breath tickling you and making you shiver.

“... Don’t start getting into fights just to make me kiss you...”

With that alone, the soft atmosphere switches to your usual bickering state. You push him away, jokingly and he knows it, covering your ear, the frown on your face completely negated of it’s intimidating intent with how red your cheeks are.

“You are insufferable.”

“Yeah... but you like it.”

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #scaramouche x you

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ka-freaking-boom · 1 year ago

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Morning After

Seven Deadly Sins AU

Lust Soap x Wrath Ghost

Warnings: NSFW, Attempted Coercion, Violence.

___

Soap flopped back into the bed, the cheap springs creaking as he settled with a content sigh, the man next to him following his example with a low, satisfied groan. Soap’s full pink lips curled into a smirk as he stretched, the delicious ache of sore muscles causing his dick to twitch where it lay limp and wrung dry against his sweat-slick thigh.

“That was good. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” The smiling nameless man to his right turned on his side in order to face Soap, who was grinning at the stained ceiling with half-lidded eyes. The disgusting undertone of insecurity in the question snapped Soap out of his post-orgasmic haze, causing the Scot to roll his eyes with a mocking snort, his bedmate frowning at the unkind noise.

“Nah, Ahm going ta have ta pass. It was fun, but yer not good enough tae come back ta fer seconds.” Soap sighed as he sat up, rotating to plant his feet flat on the floor before pushing up to stand. He listened with half an ear as the man behind him scrambled to his feet as well, confusion clear on his face as he watched Soap search for his discarded clothing, which seemed to be scattered about the cheap motel room.

“I'm sorry- What?” The man stuttered and Soap let out a heavy breath, his mounting annoyance ruining the perfect afterglow that he had been basking in up to that point. The Scot ignored the man’s desperate inquiry in favor of bending down to grab his briefs when he spotted the corner of the gray cloth peeking out from under the small table near the kitchenette.

He pinched the fabric between his fingers and dragged it out from its hiding spot, pulling them up his legs to rest in their rightful place over his lower half. Soap licked his lips at the sight of the damp spot on the front of his briefs directly over his groin, the clingy material doing its best to reawaken his endless libido.

“Aye.” Soap casually clicked his tongue when he found his jeans, slipping them up and over his legs as well. He let the waistband ride low enough to shamelessly show off his delicious V-line, the suggestive grooves tracing a straight path down to his slowly refilling cock. “Ahm goin' ta hav' ta pass, mate. Ah wish Ah could say that it was a pleasure.” Soap gave the man a lazy two-finger salute as he threw his jacket on, leaving himself bare-chested in favor of just carrying his stained shirt.

The whole reason for Soap’s sex-scapade in the first place happened to be because of his ruined shirt.

Earlier that night, the man he’d bedded had somehow managed to trip and spill his sour-smelling drink all over the fabric while Soap had been returning to the pool table that his siblings had claimed with food for himself and Gaz. Fortunately for the dumbass drunkard, Soap had convinced his siblings to let him handle it and he'd found a way for the clumsy idiot to pay him back for soaking one of his favorite shirts in alcohol in a way that wouldn't end in a bloodbath.

Or, at least he’d hoped. He was actually a bit disappointed with the guy’s performance if he was being honest with himself.

“Wait, hang on a sec!” The man spluttered as he rushed to catch up with Soap before he could make it to the door, blocking his exit with his body as if that alone would be enough to keep Soap from leaving. “You could stay for another round and we can see whether or not you’re not impressed after I'm done with you." The insistent man’s attempt at seduction was subpar at best and Soap would know since he practically invented the concept.

Soap rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, trying to channel Price's seemingly infinite patience, before shifting his gaze to take in the messily-dressed idiot that he had taken to bed. This was why he hated indulging most humans with a vengeance, they always ended up turning into little whiny bitches that were desperate for validation. He much preferred the big, dangerous types that could give as good as they got and keep up with his stamina.

Soap let his tongue wet his lips, his eyes glazing over as he recalled the last time he and Ghost had fallen into bed together. Neither of them had paid any mind to the loud crack of the door slamming into the opposite wall as they burst into their shared hotel room, both of them far too occupied with trying to devour each other that Soap had impatiently forwent digging around for his keycard in favor of simply kicking it open.

Soap shivered with barely-contained excitement at the memory of Ghost shoving him down onto the mattress so violently that Soap had actually bounced a few times before he was stilled by Ghost draping himself over him, taking both his wrists into one big hand and pinning them above his head.

The man's gaze was an alluring mix of dark, covetous and hungry as he slowly rolled his mask up just enough to reveal the bottom half off his face before slithering down Soap's body. The tip of his nose brushed lightly over Soap's skin, the Scot’s core muscles rippling at the ticklish sensation, before Ghost's thick hands gripped at his hips, each of his heavy breaths fanning out across the bulge in Soap's pants as he leaned in-

The delicious fantasy shattered when noticeably slim and uncalloused fingers curled over his bare hip, pulling Soap out of his daydream and throwing the smug male in front of him into sharp focus, the sudden close proximity very much unwelcome.

“Change your mind, baby?” The man purred and Soap reached down to wrap his own thicker fingers around the offending wrist, letting his grip rest there for a moment before he suddenly tightened his grasp, the fragile bone unceremoniously shattering with a loud crunch when Soap jerked the limb into an unnatural angle.

“Not a chance, mate.” Soap answered casually as the man’s high-pitched scream of pain echoed off the walls. When the other man's knees buckled and he fell, Soap released his grip in order to let the trembling body drop, watching with thinly veiled disgust as the man curled into the fetal position while cradling his broken wrist.

Without another word, Soap opened the door with a click, moving out into the hall and leaving his most recent lover cowering on the floor of the skeevy motel room. Soap whistled an upbeat tune as he took the stairs two at a time, eager to get back to his siblings, who he'd ditched back at the bar. He had no doubt that they would be exactly where he had left them since they never bothered relocating if Soap went off to play with a new toy.

They were considerate like that.

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sarcasticbeanie · 11 months ago

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tenzing tharkay for the ask game!!

First impression this guy slammed the door in. gently nudged the person blocking him to the side. has an eagle on his hand. then coolly and mockingly snubbed a room full of rich white folk. Is there anything more to say? Love at first sight. I didn't even think he was an important character I just enjoyed his character introduction so much. I was like: man this dude is really cool. he's cynical and mocking but patient with his explanations when talking to Temeraire. the book summary says there's going to be a betrayal but I hope it's not him. hope he survives, too, 'cause the survival rates of side characters have Not been high so far.

Impression now He's hypercompetant. he's a leftist. he can throw chairs "coolly". He's noticeably not a pathetic meow meow but he is my babygirl. But what made me really like him is that - he's so lonely. It's something that has seeped into his bones and he doesn't need or want anything else - or at least that's what he tells himself. Then William Laurence offered a hand, wishing for them to be equals, exchanging his own loyalty - and Tharkay went. fuck. now I have to actually like this guy. Then Temeraire objected when Tharkay volunteered himself for a dangerous mission - and Tharkay went. huh. ok I guess they do care for me. then after doing one (1) mission with Laurence and Co., he went. yeah. guess I have to follow this idiot anywhere now. I love seeing lonely characters realize that they have a place,, that they can still care for others, and be loved and cared for in return. Tharkay is just my specialest guy. he's so important to me. To me. I start kicking my feet and giggling whenever he comes on page. that's my little guy... (40 yr old man)

Favorite moment Clenches fists there're so many of them. but if I had to choose it might just be his entrance? like in my answer to question one. love at first sight and all that. aside from that... any of his rescues if either Laurence or Tem were all so fun. his sections are just a whole lot of competency and I enjoy that a lot. but I also really appreciated him getting rescued by Laurence in book 8,, listen. i love putting characters in bad situations sometimes. and I thrive on hurt/comfort.

Idea for a story Oh, I'm boring. I'm just rotating him like a rotisserie chicken in my mind... I really want the prequels of this guy. Was he once naive and hopeful? Does he remember his mother? How did he feel after being scorned by his own family? Did he make friends, or did he make his journey forever alone? Were there any companions he viewed as important? He's as tight-lipped as a pistachio with no crack and just as hard to open. But I want to know more about him and delve into his past and psyche. and i'm also thinking about willzing. I've seen a lot of fics in which Laurence is panicking and angsting about his feelings while struggling with his own thoughts on honor, and I want to see a Tharkay version of this... is this guy actually good at self-reflection and acknowledging his own feelings? or does he have to struggle with his long habit of loneliness and his constant experience of being spurned? does he yearn for more from his and Laurence's relationship, or is he content enough with what he thinks he can get? discuss.

Unpopular opinion I have nothing against it!! But. I just don't feel the sexually and romantically dominant vibes from this guy? a lot of wonderful and awesome fics depict him as someone who's in charge, confident, sure in his romantic and sexual endeavors (which is great and very good food), but I don't think he's particularly domineering or even too experienced in sexual and romantic acts. the man's probably busy bouncing around all over the place tangled up in schemes and spying and missions and whatnot. and I think if you ask him to be entirely clear in his own feelings and to proffer them all directly he'd explode into 10 billion little pieces.

Favorite relationship Willzing. They're just very fun to me. I'm holding them up and swinging them around like ferrets.

Favorite headcanon He's demiromantic and demisexual. To me. He's slow to trust but he falls hard after, but only if you've built up a sufficient, steady, and long-term relationship (platonic) beforehand. Personally, I think it would be funny if that happened in. the final book or something.

#answeing this one because it's on anon and I don't want to be seen to chose/j #three people have asked me abt tharkay after I reblogged the character ask thing. I'm. apparent abt my love.#temeraire #asks #tenzing tharkay #willzing #long post

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miraruinada · 6 months ago

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"The court jester holds power against the king because they're allowed to mock the king, they say. But that is not at all the function. In mocking the king, the jester holds the very same position that only the jester can mock the king. You think a clown destroys the legitimacy of the crown? The true clown is the king who can laugh at himself! The court jester is still a member of the court! An adherent to the strata of the very rule of the throne! The power granted in the jester's foolishness exists to legitimize this foolishness only on he who wears the jester's cap! This is why any other who does so goes to the chopping block! This extends to all so-called fools! They exist as granted only insofar as they do not damage the ruling ideology! You must beware to not mistake the idiots wearing the jester cap for the truly rebellious and revolutionary fools! The true revolutionary fools are those who mock not to laugh with the king, but against him! And do not confuse one or the other, or you simply fail! You wish to be radical? Be truly radical! Do not pretend to be a master when you are a mere servant! Do not pretend to question authority when all you do is appeal to it!"

"This is where the content (ideal) obscures the form (concrete), and where sense-perception fails humanity. This is why Razon (Reason) is a higher Sabiduria (Wisdom) than Conocimiento (Knowing). To be a true Tlamatini (One who knows) is to not be content with what you see, to not become a pervert for ideology and fully believe the content (ideal) without questioning the form (concrete). For example. People are content with saying the world is evil. That people commit atrocities and people suffer. Such a base, childishly unintellectual observation! And they're content with that! They smugly grin with self-satisfaction to leave it as it being in humanity's nature, content with merely seeing the content of evil, but not its form! Why do we suffer? What structures cause us to suffer? Once you see the form of suffering, you see its limits and can already surpass them! You have found True Hope! You have grasped Espiritu (Spirit)! Not a cynically simple refusal to fight on! Not a masturbatory optimism where you believe everything will be okay! You realize it hinges on you and those around you! We are alone, together! You come to me for the framework to see beyond sight and think beyond thought! That is the instrument I bring you!"

"Que tu quiereis?! (What do you want?!) You feel doubtful. Anxious. Uncertain. Good! If you don't doubt your answer, you have not found the true answer! Instead of seeking a bovine life of pure contentment, you must always question! Are we satisfied to think we know with only our eyes? Do we not use telescopes to truly see the stars? Not only must you question the stars, you must question the very eyes that see the stars! Unknown even to yourself, know thyself!"

"What an introductory lecture." Joined the class on a whim.

"I'll follow you for the rest of my life, Master." Already an ardent follower.

"Holy shit. He smokes a lot." Snuck into the class.

Internally, Granja wants to get this lecture over with and is nearing a nervous meltdown.

#;en solitud.

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misdreavusmishap · 1 year ago

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⚡️⚡️ RO-TO-TO! VIDEO INCOMING. ⚡️⚡️

[IT SEEMS THIS VIDEO HAS BEEN DELAYED IN UPLOAD! THE TRUE START DATE IS 11/20/2023 @ 5:42 P.M.]

Derek is looking off into the forest, some quiet rustles seeming to repeat themselves as he continuously tries to locate the origin of the movement. He's VERY determined to catch this Charcadet, even if he keeps chasing it away upon first sight. While he was once looking down at his phone, he now slowly lowers it to a nearby boulder; placing it down while holding his palms out towards the ground, crouched over, like he's readying himself for something. I turn to Charmie, Derek's one true sidekick I guess, and we both shrug at each other. Before I can even spin around again, I hear stomping footprints, slowly fading into the distance as they thoughtlessly crunch some rotting, dry leaves. Charmie performs some harmonious beeps, floating over to the rock and picking up Derek's phone. I don't bother to chase after Derek this time, I just want to relax and let the Metalhead do his own thing for once. Not like I can stop any dumb?ssery he may cause. I look over Charmie's shoulder, paying half-attention to this now very intense Goomygle Ekans Game.

"... HOW OFTEN DO YOU DO THIS?"

A few responsive beeps escape Charmie's Speaker(?), his lights flashing with every tone change.

"OH."

bzzzt... t... t... this is me mimicking the sound of a notification.

"- CHARMS, YOU'RE BEING SUMMONED. GO FIND YOUR DAD OR WHATEVER."

Charmie's beeps mock a "Yeah, yeah..." kind of tone, continuing to play the Ekans Game with no mind to what Tik had just said.

"YOU REALLY NEED TO GET A BETTER LISTENING MICROPHONE, KID."

. . .

After a deafening silence, Derek's murmuring can be heard, yet it's so faint that I can barely hear what he's saying.

Then, something that turns into nervous laughter, then becomes blood-curdling screeching.

".. DEREK??"

"OKAY SERIOUSLY WE HAVE TO GO. PUT IT DOWN."

Charmie seems mildly annoyed, even asking me why he couldn't bring the phone with us, but I simply usher him towards the path that the idiot had ran down.

Here there is a cut in the video, snapping to static and back to color in an instant, now showcasing an oddly placed camera angle, staring down from a tree branch to an unnaturally flat, slightly charred path. Charmie begins to float down to the walkway, but before he can put a nub on the ground, I whisper-snap at him to get back into the tree. However, before he can, he gets whisped out of the way by a gush of wind, throwing the Elgyem into a nearby bush. The blur of brown and blue that rushed by just before was supposedly Derek? But I have never seen him run that fast before. He's got his arms held to his chest, clawing at his own shoulders, maniacally laughing and screaming.

"DEREK, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??? GET BACK-"

The Pokéfinder has been activated!

"EH??"

The camera whips around a few times in confusion, by its own evidence there had been no other unidentified Pokémon nearby. Upon turning back to the path, the video feed HEAVILY decreases in quality, multiple identification boxes appearing on the screen at once, trying to decipher what looks like completely nothing. In small, fractured patches on the screen, a hoard of large, Jellicent-like impressions draw themselves onto the screen; charging after Derek at blistering fast speeds. As the boxes begin to land on these "Pokémon", a high-pitch buzzing fills the audio and is quickly lowered with my generous post-process editing skills. I turn my camera away, putting my hands(?) up to my microphone, as if that will block out any noise that's coming directly from inside the Rotomdex. Once the rushing wind and beeping begins to finally calm down, I turn back to the path, both parties now completely gone.

"... THAT'S NOT NORMAL."

Charmie lets out a dizzy beep, slowly popping back up and floating down the dirt road as the video closes out. In the distance, a quiet "Fwoo?" is heard, then being quickly cut off.

⚡️⚡️ RO-TO-TO! VIDEO END. ⚡️⚡️

#tikposting #tik's video logs #pkmn irl #pokemon irl

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smol-stardust · 2 years ago

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You Can't What?

Continuing with the SKK Fallen Guardian Angel au because I'm on a brainrot. Plz excuse spelling/grammar errors

In which Chuuya learns he's stuck with Dazai for longer than expected due to, uh... reasons

Staring at the sight in front of him, Chuuya let out a string of curses. If it wasn’t bad enough that shitty Dazai was constantly bothering him, this just ruined everything. How did I even end up here? Chuuya ponders. Not that it matters, because either way, he’ll be hauling Dazai’s blood-soaked body out of the alleyway. The problem with angels, Chuuya decided, is they’re too conspicuous and weigh too much. As much as he wanted to leave the disaster of a suicidal angel in the sombre alleyway, Chuuya had an ominous epiphany that if he did, someone would get him later.

Chuuya’s next observation was that wings are a stupid waste of space. What’s the point if he walks everywhere? I doubt angels have wings to block people, namely myself, from going places and mock them. Chuuya continued cursing as he maneuvered Dazai’s body around, tempted to slice off his wings and call it a day.

“You could at least be gentle chibi,” Dazai groaned as Chuuya manhandled him. “This is no way to treat such a beautiful angel.”

“Shut up you shitty idiot. You’re the one that got shot and mangled by that ability user!” Chuuya retorted.

“Just doing my job,” Dazai winked, not that it mattered, he was slung half over Chuuya's shoulders. (If Chuuya saw it, he probably would have commented how it looked like Dazai was having a seizure)

“I can protect myself, shitty angel,” Chuuya hissed.

“Aww man,” Dazai whined. “No prize of consolation or thanks? Here I was hoping I’d die…”

“WAIT A SECOND!!” Chuuya screeched, dropping Dazai’s body at his sudden revelation.

"Owie." Dazai rubbed his head in annoyance. "Please treat me like a princess. I'm delicate you know!"

“YOU FUCKING DIED!” Chuuya yelled, pointing a finger accusingly at his supposed guardian angel. “YOU HAD NO PULSE, I WAS FINALLY GOING TO BE FREE OF YOU!!”

“Ah, yes” Dazai nodded thoughtfully with a hand under his chin (In the finger checkmark pose… idk what it’s called) “I did mention I can’t die right?”

Chuuya stared at him, gaping. His brain stalled out for a few minutes before he snapped back to reality.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T DIE?!?” Chuuya bellowed.

“I’m not wanted up there. God kinda doesn't like me or something, can't imagine why,” Dazai hummed nonchalantly. “Aaannnd, they don’t want me down there either. Somthing about me disturbing them.” He grinned and held out a peace sign.

“What the hell are you?” Chuuya groaned. Great, and here I thought I was free of this waste of space.

“Mmm, it’s not like I enjoy spending time with you either chibi,” Dazai huffed, opting to ignore the question. “But, we’re stuck together, and that’s how it's going to be.”

“UGGGH…”

“On the bright side, I get to hang out and annoy you more now!”

“Piss of…”

:::

Chuuya sighed as Dazai walked alongside him down the streets of Yokohama, waving his hands animatedly as he rambled on. Fallen angels sure are more trouble than they’re worth, Chuuya thought bitterly. I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with this freeloading idiot even longer. Chuuya rubbed his temple at the thought. This is going to be a long night… WAIT! NO, HE’S STUCK WITH ME FOR ETERNITY!

“AUGHHHH! I’m gonna strangle you!” Chuuya growled.

“Aww, cute.” Dazai cooed. “Granting my wish for me.”

“I'm doing this for myself!”

“I look forward to it, but might be difficult considering y’know, neither side wants me!” Dazai laughed cheerily.

“... GO BOTHER SOMEONE ELSE!”

"Nope, you're too fun to rile up."

"...I hate you."

"Aww, I'm glad it's mutual."

#soukoku #skk #bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #skk au #soukoku au #fallen angel au #fallen angel dazai #guardian angel au #bsd headcanons #bsd au #dazai's like dang i wanted to die #chuuya: then die #bsd #✎sparky.writes✐#Au brainworms

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geminiamethyst · 27 days ago

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Skyline Gang: Sky Crystal. Chapter 6: Broken

Prologue: click HERE

Chapter 5: click HERE

Chapter 7

This whole day just kept getting uncomfortable. Any guests that Sprout hadn’t managed the check over were looked at by the paramedics that had turned up. Some firefighters started to go into the pavilion for an investigation. Police started asking people about what had happened and even arrested the man that had assaulted Dude earlier. After being questioned, people started going home with the promise of being refunded for their entry. There was no chance of the Skyline being reopened anytime soon today. Dude had found Poppy and her parents as they were leaving, and promised again to keep an eye out for her toy. It cheered Poppy up a little more upon hearing that. Staff were also advised to go home and were promised to also be paid for the entire day’s worth of wages. Then the Skyline Gang came back to the house, finding Bud wrapped up in his weighted blanket on the sofa, and having a calming cup of tea. Pip offered everyone else a hot drink as well, while Dude fetched an ice pack for his still sore cheek. The whole atmosphere just felt like it was still in a frenzy. No one could figure out what they should be thinking or feeling at this point. And no amount of fussing over Rainbow seemed to help.

“The whole park has been evacuated.” Bud stated the obvious as he watched the security feed (or what was still functioning) on his tablet. No one bothered to tell him that they already knew that. It was just something to help him calm down. “We just need to wait for emergency services to clear the pavilion to be safe.”

“Sorry, but I can’t wait.” Dude said as he dumped his ice pack in the sink. “I want to check on the Sky Crystal. I’ve got a feeling that Mr Conjurer knows something.”

“Wait up!” Pip shouted as Dude left the house. She and the others trailed after him, with Bud neatly folding up his blanket and leaving it on the sofa before following. They can’t exactly use the main entrances, so the staff only ones will have to do. Hopefully the power to them hasn’t been cut off or else they’ll have to find another way in. The Skyline was certainly eerie without all the guests. Usually at this time of day, many people would be walking around, just having a good time and forgetting their worries. Aside from the police officers standing guard at the entrances, now it was almost like a ghost town. The Gang kept quiet and out of sight as best they could manage. Maybe this was better off during the night but there wasn’t anytime to waste. If something had happened to the Sky Crystal, it needs to be seen to now.

“We’ve got to distract them somehow.” Bud advised after the Gang peeked around a corner. They spotted two police officers standing guard at the staff entrance. Even the most obscure entrances needed to be blocked it seemed. It appeared that no matter what the Gang would try to do or say, the officers won’t let them pass. Unless they were being unconventional at least.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this…” Dude muttered, before he turned to the grey friend in the Gang. “Misty, stir up some trouble.”

“You’re asking me to be a mischief maker for once?” Misty asked with a little scrutiny. Was Dude, the leader of the Skyline Gang and usually the one that grounds her the most, is asking for her help? He wants her to be intentionally naughty and risk being arrested? She had to be dreaming this up!

“Just don’t get caught.” Dude encouraged. Misty getting caught was the last thing that they needed. He trusted Misty to be elusive enough, but it was better to give a verbal warning. “Once you’ve lost them, come straight back here.” Misty gave a cheeky mock salute. With a sly smile and a quiet hum, she started to stride towards the police officers with extreme confidence. She was so excited about this task that she had to hold herself back from skipping like an idiot. It wouldn’t be fun if it was over too soon.

“Is this really a good idea?” Sprout hissed into Dude’s ear.

“Good might not be the right word…” Dude responded, already regretting his decision. However, this was an emergency and there wasn’t another way to try to get in. If there was one person that he could count on to evade the police, it was Misty. She had done it before after all. No one could hear what Misty was saying to the officers, but they seemed to be on edge. Something to.d the Gang that this isn’t the first time that they’ve met her. Or she had gained some kind of reputation down at the police station. She pulled out a box and offered it out to one of the officers. He looked puzzled and fiddled with it. All of a sudden, it opened and a spider jumped out. Not a fake one like Misty usually used on the Gang; it was real! How she managed to keep a spider in that box and for how long, the Gang honestly didn’t want to know. The poor officer yelped in fright, jumping back from the offending insect. Misty let out a loud cackle and ran off. The officer chased after her and his partner chased after him, probably to calm the situation down.

“Can’t believe that worked.” Bud said in bewilderment.

“Come on.” Dude urged, already heading towards the door. The others followed him very closely. As soon as the door was opened, Rainbow escorted them in while Dude waited at the door. Not two minutes later, Misty charged around the corner. No police hot on her heels. Dude hurriedly beckoned at her. “Get in. Well?”

“I may or may not have tricked them into thinking I’m in the helter skelter.” Misty smirked as Dude shut the door. He was quite impressed. Once all this was over, he’s going to have to give her an award or something. For once her mischief making came in handy. The pair quickly caught up with the others. It seemed like none of the authorities were inside the building. They finished off their report for indoors for now. The pavilion was a complete mess. While it didn’t seem like there was any structure damage, thank goodness, the clean up was going to be a long process. Tables and chairs had been knocked over. Food was stamped into the ground and various drinks were spilled on the ground. There were bags, and even a couple of phones that were abandoned from the panic. Toys had been trampled over and even have some shoe prints in the fabric. Since he was at the back of the pack, Dude scanned all the toys that he could spot. All those poor kids that are missing their favourite or brand new items. It was one that stuck out the most to him. A Rainbow plushie that didn’t appear to be badly damaged and very well loved. Hurriedly, Dude stepped up to it and inspected it a little.

“Dude!” Pip’s voice called out to him.

“I’m coming!” Dude responded after examining the fabric label that was attached to the toy. He got his answer. Still holding onto the toy, he ran up to Pip, who stood in the doorway that led to their spare bedrooms.

“What was that all about?” Pip asked as Dude slipped into the darkened hallway. The others had already gone on ahead in the secret passageway that led to the Sky Crystal.

“I’ll explain later.” He promised, carefully placing the toy on one of the stairs. The pair made extra sure that the door was closed and followed the others. The air seemed cold, not warm like when Dude experienced this cavern the first time around.

“That…doesn’t look good…” Sprout whimpered as he looked down off the catwalk.

“What happened?” Misty asked, sounding just as horrified. Once Pip and Dude reached the others they could see what could gain that kind of reaction. The Sky Crystal, once a majestic gem that seemed indestructible, was now the opposite. Cracks ran along it, some of the sides jutting out into cruel spikes. The light that once radiated from it was dim, flickering in and out almost like a dying lightbulb. There was this awful chill in the air, inviting all the foreboding notions that would come from this awful tragedy.

“Either the Crystal being broken is the cause or the effect of that earthquake.” Bud concluded, trying to settle his nerves as best he could. “However, neither matters right now. We need to figure out how to fix it.” Just how are they going to do that?! The Gang have accepted long before now that the Skyline had magic, it had been proven more than once in the past. Magic would be the way to fix the Sky Crystal but acquiring it won’t be an easy feat. And Mr Conjurer? He was quite ill when Dude last saw him. Was that connected to the earthquake too? And time moves fast inside the Crystal. Who knows how long he had been suffering for if his illness became much worse since the quake happened. Was he even still alive at this point? This whole crisis has just made heads being scratched more than brains were being racked in order to solve it. This was just a mess.

Just as Dude was pondering over what to do, he suddenly felt a very harsh pull. He experienced it once already. While he didn’t want to go through it again, he didn’t have much of a choice. This pull felt more desperate than it had before. It was so strong that he was almost pulled right over the railing in a split second. He gripped the railing and started to pull back.

“Dude?” Mimi asked, seeing the clear struggle that was happening.

“What’s going on?” Candi asked as she spotted what Dude was doing too. At first, everyone thought that Dude was playing around, that he had picked a bad time to joke around. However, they noticed at how much his was straining his muscles, his body shaking from the strain, veins visible in his arms. Dude then stumbled and had to wrap his arms around the railing in order to keep himself from flipping over it.

“No, you don’t! Not without them!” He said through gritted teeth, stubbornly keeping his hold.

“Dude?” Mimi asked again.

“What the-hey!” Misty exclaimed suddenly. Just as she said that, everyone else started to feel the pull that Dude was experiencing. Sprout was caught so off guard that he was flipped over the railing, while Bud and Candi grabbed his hands tightly. Rainbow planted his paws as best he was allowed to and gripped onto Pip’s pant leg, acting as her anchor. Misty and Mimi held onto the railing, trying to pull back just like Dude had done.

“Gang, let go! It’ll be okay!” Dude shouted and did the most outrageous thing. He finally let go and leaped over the railing.

“Dude?!” Pip exclaimed as Dude fell right into the Sky Crystal. The cracked surface rippled a little as he vanished into it. Then it was like a domino effect happened. Bud and Candi had lost their footing, and along with Sprout, they tumbled in after Dude. Rainbow felt like he was lifted off of the ground and battered into Pip like she was a bowling pin, causing both of them to fall. Finally, Mimi and Misty also lost their fight against the gravity well that had been created. The Skyline Gang had now vanished.

#skyline gang #skyline gang butlins #skyline gang fanfic

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mimichaell · 2 years ago

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❝𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢 𝐱 𝐆𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 : fluff!, swearing, smoking, tattoo studio owner!shidou

''Damn,'' Shidou cursed underneath his breath. ''it's raining again!'' He hated summer rains.

He looked through the window from his tattoo studio. It was a lovely day. After all, he had an appointment with his favorite client. Shidou knew how congested the traffic was on rainy days. ''Fuck, I hope they will be here soon.'', he looked the outside one more time and came back to work.

Shidou Ryusei missed you. He missed the feeling that you gave him, touching the soft skin while he tattoos your body. He found you interesting among thousands of customers. Loved the grin that formed on your face while entering his studio. Loved the way how you mocked him every single time. Also he was grateful, secretly, that you didn't scared of him.

He smiled slightly as he remembered the first day you both met. You wanted a cherry blossom tattoo just below your chest. It was a risky and painful choice, for a first tattoo. Frankly he expected to you cry, ready to make fun of you with a wide smirk on his face. Shidou was in shocked when you bursted into laughter as soon as tattoo machine touched your body. Yes, you were definitely interesting.

Smell of the rain-soaked soil was everywhere. The sunlight was harmonized with the raindrops that made soothing sounds each time they fell. Sadly this sight wasn't enough to appease him. He was looking at clock impatiently. Your appointment time was already past.

He felt that he was starting to get angry and worried slowly. Sighed deeply and went out to smoke a cigarette for calm himself down. He was hopefully looking around to see your figure. You didn't respond any of his calls so he decided to spam you with texts.

''HEYYYYY''

''WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU''

''damn''

''it's already past 4pm, you fucking idiot''

He continued to write without interruption until seeing your message.

''I'm two blocks down the tattoo studio''

''pls come here and bring a dry towel with u''

Shidou was confused over your messages, what the fuck were you doing there in rain? He thought some scenarios in his head and was ready to beat someone. He quickly grabbed a towel and a umbrella, then started running.

He stopped when saw you and a kitten on your lap. You took off your coat to cover the cat from rain. Drops were running down the hem of your skirt. Shidou took you under his umbrella.

''Oh, Ryusei! Look at the kitten I found on the road! Isn't it so cute? But it was all soaked from the rain, did you bring towel?''

Shidou felt really weird. It was as if he had a work of art in front of him. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

''Ryusei, are you listening?'', you asked him while petting the kittens head.

He threw the towel at you, his cheeks were burning. Shidou Ryusei, the scary tattoo studio owner was blushing.

You groaned at him but took the towel quickly, drying kitten. You stood up holding the cat in your arms and felt a weight behind your back. Shidou was hugging you. You felt the butterflies in your stomach, it was the same everytime he touched you. You loved him so much but you were afraid too. Afraid of ruining the relationship you two share. Afraid of losing him, even though you never had him.

''Shidou, I-''

''Just shut up and let me hold you.''

You could feel his hot breath against your neck. One of his big hands were on your waist, hugging you tightly. The other one was still holding the umbrella. He stepped back and draped his coat over your shoulders. You looked at him with a surprised look.

''What the hell are you looking at? I can't do your tattoo if you get sick, right?'', his grin grew as he saw you flustered. ''Let's go! You don't want that wet sewer rat in your lap to get cold, do you?''

''Fuck you Ryusei!''

𝐴/𝑁: 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑠. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡 ♡

#blue lock #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #blue lock fanfic #blue lock x reader #bllk shidou #bllk imagines #bllk x you #bllk scenarios #bllk headcanons #blue lock scenarios #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #bllk fanfic

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heliads · 3 years ago

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The Secret

Based on this request: "Thomas x Reader (tmr): thomas and the reader are secretly dating and newt and minho try to set them up together but when their plan fails they find out"

ok but i lit rally love this request. oblivious best friends for the win <3

masterlist

You are young and reckless, doing your best to get into trouble despite the fact that you know the consequences like the back of your hand. Although what Alby doesn’t know won’t kill him, it may stress him out for days to come.

Then again, you’re not really thinking about Alby at all right now. You’re thinking about a completely different boy, the one who is hurrying with you towards the Deadheads before anyone sees the two of you together and decides to connect the dots.

Thomas glances back at you, unable to hide a grin despite the inherent gravity of the situation. “Hurry up, you shank, we’re going to be seen.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “We are not going to be seen, everyone’s busy. And by the way, Minho’s right. You sound like an idiot when you use our slang.”

Thomas’ jaw drops in mock outrage, and seconds later he’s pulling you behind a tree so he can kiss you so hard you feel like the ground is falling away beneath your feet. To say that you’re seeing sparks is an understatement; there are fireworks, galaxies, supernovas going off before your eyes.

When you manage to get yourself together long enough to do something other than smile deliriously at him, you realize that Thomas looks altogether too proud of himself.

“I sound like an idiot, huh? Do I kiss like one too?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, although a persistent flush refuses to leave your cheeks. “Maybe. You should kiss me again so I can make sure.”

Thomas grins and indulges you, but steps away soon enough. You’re still barely in the outskirts of the scraggly trees marking the Deadheads, and any self-respecting Glader trying to waste a morning’s work could glance up from their respective crafts and see the two of you together.

That’s why you and Thomas must press further into the woods, until the green shades create a suitable haze so as to block you from view. Only then, once the myriad of branches and stems have agreed to weave themselves together as a protective screen, can you reach for him again. This time, you won’t have to worry about a thing.

Thomas smiles against your lips. “I missed you, you know.”

You laugh. “I saw you at breakfast this morning. Also at dinner last night, and before going to bed, and-”

Thomas cuts you off, giving you a look that makes you giggle. “Yeah, I know, but that was different. Everyone was watching, and I couldn’t do the stuff I wanted to, like hold your hand-”

He breaks off to weave his fingers between yours and hold up the interlocked hands to prove his point.

“Or do anything that isn’t acceptable for two people who just happen to be friends.”

You consider the intertwined hands before you, the way your fingers fit together as if they were always meant to be there, never separated but holding firm. You would love to have many more times to witness this sight, when you’re not trying to hide out in the Deadheads and pretend that there’s a future for this relationship that doesn’t one day involve the two of you getting caught by the other Gladers.

You knew the truth as well as Thomas does, which is that neither of you can hide this for long. Your friends are good at figuring things out, and two people only vanish together for a couple of key reasons.

Thomas sighs, as if he’s thinking along the same lines as you. “Why are we here, again? What’s so wrong with letting people know? I mean, at worst Alby yells at us and Gally throws another fit. Our friends won’t be mad, I know that.”

You slump forward against his chest. In truth, you’ve been wondering the same thing a few times before.

“It’s against the rules, Thomas. I know you’re still thinking the way we all thought at first, which is that if our friends made the rules it won’t be as bad if we break them, but it will. Without the rules, we’re nothing. Punishments are always harsh.”

Thomas lifts a hand to card gently through your hair. “What punishment could there possibly be for this? How would they get mad at us for liking each other?”

You laugh bitterly. “You’d be surprised. It’s less about the act of liking each other than it is how quickly it happened. You’re still relatively new, Thomas, and after all the fuss Alby has had to raise to make sure some of the boys stayed away from me, no one’s going to like that the rules are now conveniently bent for you.”

Thomas nods. “I know. Guess I got so used to having you that I thought I could be lucky in every other aspect as well. As long as I have you I’m good, though, I promise.”

You smile against his chest. “I love you too, ya shank.”

Thomas is about to comment on this sudden inflection of Glader slang into what had previously been a serious conversation when he straightens up, suddenly no longer at ease.

Seconds later, you realize what’s unnerved him. The crash of footfalls, accompanied by lively chatter, is drifting towards you. Someone’s coming, and you cannot be seen so close to Thomas.

You straighten up hurriedly, trying to fix your shirt and hair so it doesn’t look as if you’ve been in his arms. Thomas practically springs away, and seems to be deciding whether or not it would look worse if he started running away when two figures burst into the clearing alongside you and Thomas.

You breathe out in relief when you realize that it’s Newt and Minho, who are definitely not the type to rat you out. They slow down as they see you, though, and Newt nudges Minho in the arm as he realizes that it’s just you and Thomas here alone.

Minho’s eyes widen, and then a slow grin crosses his face. “Hey, guys, what are you doing out here?”

Thomas looks around for some kind of excuse, and his eyes fall on an ax and stump somewhere behind him. “Uh, I was just chopping wood. One of the Bricknicks said they wanted some material for supports.”

Newt nods slowly. “And Y/N, are you chopping wood as well?”

You do your best to not seem suspicious. “I was skipping off work to talk to a friend. Stop calling me out if I want a break.”

Minho grins. “Ah, yes, a classic conversation with a friend. You and Thomas are very good friends, yes.”

Thomas arches a brow. “Why’d you say it like that?”

He’s doing his best to still seem innocent, although you have a feeling that it’s a losing game.

Minho shrugs casually. “Nothing, nothing. Friends are very important here, you know. Say, I’m glad you two are getting along so well. Really warms the heart.”

Newt elbows his friend in the ribs, then jumps forward to continue the line of conversation. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s great that you guys can look to each other for friendship.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a laugh. “I appreciate your insights, but can I ask why you seem so invested in our friendship?”

Newt speaks a little too quickly. “I wouldn’t say invested, just happy to see my friends happy together, you know?”

Minho nods solemnly. “Happiness all around.”

You stare at them a second longer, trying to figure out just what they’re getting at, then give up. “Whatever. I’d better get back to work or Alby’ll have my head. See you around, Thomas.”

Newt and Minho decide to head back with you, although you can’t help but cast one glance back over your shoulder at Thomas before he disappears from view. He risks a sad wave to you, and then he’s gone, lost in the waving branches of the Deadheads.

You do get a chance to see him later at dinner, although it’s somewhat ruined by Newt and Minho yet again. This time, they made a rather obvious point of declaring that they should really go talk about some business of the Runners, and you and Thomas can stay here together, no please, feel free to enjoy each other’s company.

You and Thomas cast each other wary glances, but nothing seems to come of the whole deal, so you just eat anyway. The whole time, you catch Newt and Minho sneaking furtive glances your way, but you can’t figure out their intent. Thomas tells you not to worry about it, but they’re definitely acting strangely.

It all comes to a head a few nights later. Minho and Newt have continued their odd behavior, and you don’t know what to make of it. Right now, you, Thomas, Newt, and Minho are seated together, taking in the setting sun overhead after a long day spent working in the Glade (the exception being Minho, of course, who’s cooling his heels after running the day away).

You’ve been talking fairly casually with your friend up until this point, but you notice Newt and Minho exchange a significant glance.

Suddenly, Newt sits up, clearing his throat as if he’s about to issue some statement of grave importance.

“You know, Minho and I have been thinking.”

“Always a disturbing thing.” You say wryly, enjoying the Track-Hoe’s affronted stare.

Newt pretends to glare at you for a second longer, then continues. “Anyways, we were thinking, as is our right, and we believe that you and Thomas have really become good friends, and we couldn’t be happier about it.”

Minho does his best for a sage nod. “Exactly. So, we’ve brought you here today to talk about it.”

You could definitely raise the point that neither of them really brought you here at all, as you’re fairly certain that you and Thomas picked this place before them, but that isn’t the point. Minho and Newt seem to be talking about far more than just friendship, despite their emphasis on that phrase, and you have a bad feeling that you know where this is going.

Taking your silence as an invitation to continue, Newt speaks again. “Listen, this is going to be an awkward conversation to have, but we feel that it’s for the best. Y/N, I’ve noticed that you always seem to seek out Thomas whenever you want to talk to somebody.”

Before you can protest this, Minho smoothly changes the topic. “And Thomas, weren’t you just telling me about how you really liked being around Y/N?”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up. “What? Um, no, I wasn’t. You must have misheard me.”

Minho and Newt exchange another one of their significant looks, which are starting to really worry you.

Newt leans forward. “Listen, guys, it’s okay. You two are some of the most obtuse shanks we know, but we can see it. You have feelings for each other.”

There is only one emotion going through your heart right now, and it is sheer panic. They can’t know. How would they know?

“Feelings? That’s crazy.” You say, and Thomas nods hastily.

“Yeah, crazy. I haven’t had feelings in years.”

You shoot him a look, hoping to silently convey the message that he’s going a little too far. Luckily, Thomas seems to get the hint.

“Not that I haven’t felt anything. I feel things. I feel surprised, for example, that I woke up in the Glade without a single memory. I feel confused that we are having this talk over nothing.”

You point at Thomas as if to agree with him. “Exactly. I am also confused.”

Minho rakes a hand through his hair as if desperate to get you and Thomas to see his point. “We’re not talking about those kinds of feelings, you slintheads! We’re talking about the fact that you like each other. There, I said it. You two are so oblivious that you have no idea what’s right in front of you.”

Thomas visibly pales, even in the dimness of the rapidly approaching dusk. “What? No, no, no. We don’t like each other. She’s a friend. Nothing more, I swear.”

You feel just as stressed as he does. “Yeah, I don’t like him like that. Weird, you guys.”

Newt’s face is scrunched up, as if he has no idea what’s going on. “Why are you guys trying so hard to deny it? Honestly, it just makes it even more obvious. Say, I don’t know why anyone would try so hard to pretend they don’t have feelings for each other unless…”

Newt’s voice trails off and his eyes widen as a sudden realization hits him. Minho looks stunned as the same thought crosses his mind, and he taps Newt’s shoulder frantically to get his attention.

“Unless you two are already together?” Minho asks, his voice twisted by sheer shock.

You groan, and after exchanging a look with Thomas, nod. “Yeah, we are. Thought we could fool you for a little longer, but I guess not.”

Minho leans backward so far he knocks into Newt and nearly sends both of them down into the dust. “That can’t be. That’s crazy! We thought you guys had no idea.”

Thomas chuckles. “Yeah, and you were calling us the oblivious ones? We’ve been together for weeks.”

Newt shakes his head soberly. “We were too far ahead of ourselves. We were so proud that we noticed, but we should have noticed more. We connected the dots.”

Minho looks grave. “And we didn’t connect them enough. Too few dots have been connected.”

You can’t help but laugh at how serious they seem at being proven wrong. “Don’t take it personally, we’ve managed to fool everyone else. I suppose this means that you aren’t going to tell Alby on us, then?”

Minho and Newt’s heads fly up at the exact same time.

“Oh, of course not.” Newt says, and Minho seems to agree.

“We wouldn’t do that to our favorite couple.”

Thomas rolls his eyes at the ‘favorite couple’ bit, but he’s so obviously relieved that he won’t be holding any grudges. “I’m just glad you don’t mind.”

Newt waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, no problem. Just know that if you hurt Y/N in any way, we’ll kick your ass so hard even Gally will feel bad for you.”

You smile at that. “He’ll be fine, trust me.”

A glance over at Thomas, half silhouetted in the light of the setting sun, and you know it to be true. You’re happy now, and happy that you’ve finally got some friends behind you, just in case. Nothing could be better.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv-blog, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42

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inkandpen22 · 3 years ago

Text

Only Love, Only Hate (3/?)

Pairing: Riff x Latina!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Part Summary: After the dance, Y/N runs to Doc’s at her mamá’s request. While there, she bumps into someone she hadn’t expected to see.

Masterlist

I march up the staircase of the apartment building huffing and puffing as Bernardo continues to scold me. The entire walk home his target was Maria. Once she stormed off to her room, it became my turn! Two flights of him nagging me.

“Y/N, just listen for one minute!” He shouts.

“¡No puedo oírte cuando hablas como un idiota!“ (I can’t hear you when you talk like an idiot!)

We reach my floor and I spin on my heels to face him as he completes the last steps.

“You can’t disrespect me like that in public!” He commands.

I laugh. “You disrespected me! Made me look like a child!”

“You are a child!” He tries to reason. “You know nothing about this city and the dangers it holds!”

“Dangers? Like what? Those gringos? They’re nothing but boys! They’re no different from you and your Sharks!”

My front door creaks open, revealing my mother. She frowns at us. “¿Que está pasando aqui? Mija, ¿qué hiciste?“ (What’s going on out here? Honey, what did you do?)

I gasp, looking between her and Bernardo. “¡No hice nada! ¡Pregúntale a Bernardo!“ (I did nothing! Ask Bernardo!) I start toward the door, but she blocks my path with her arm.

“Uh uh, I need you to run to Doc’s for me.” She hands me a piece of paper. “Your brother’s prescription should be ready. Ask her if we should double up with his allergies coming in.”

I toss my head back with a whine. “Oh Dios mío!”

“Would you like me to come?” Bernardo asks as I return to the stairs.

“Would you like me to come?” I repeat in a mocking tone.

“Y/N!” Mamá scolds, snapping her fingers.

“I’m going now!” I announce, skipping down the steps.

“Goodnight, Nardo. Thank you for bringing her home.” I hear Mamá tell him.

“Anytime, Seńora.”

Oh, so he’s nice to her!

I roll my eyes. “Después de todo eso y me pregunta si me gustaría que viniera, ¡increíble!” (After all that and he asks me if I would like him to come, unbelievable!)

_____________________________

I sit at the counter as Valentina rings up the prescription. The jukebox plays a familiar tune, filling the otherwise silent shop. I realize I never got to dance tonight. Through all the chaos, even when Riff asked, we never got to it.

The old woman turns around and slides the white paper bag to me. “There you are, my dear. Mateo’s allergy medicine.”

I rise from my seat with a content sigh. “Muchas gracias.”

“Anytime.” She smiles.

I start to the door and she tells me to say ‘hello’ to my family for her. Then, I remember Mamá's question. “Actually before I go-” I spin on my heels and start back to the counter. “-Mamá was wondering if-”

My sentence is interrupted by the chime of the bell attached to the door. I turn over my shoulder and my sight lands on an unaware Riff entering the shop. When he lifts his head from the ground and meets my gaze, he halts. Standing in the doorway, he remains frozen.

My heart begins to race. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Valentina looking back and forth between us.

“Hi…” I mutter.

Slowly, Riff enters the store, allowing the door to glide shut behind him with a ding of the bell. “Hi…”

I move away from the counter toward him. We meet halfway, standing before one another in the middle of the small shop.

“I wasn’t-” We speak in unison.

“You first-” We do it again.

I laugh, earning a grin from him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again, at least not tonight,” I confess.

He shakes his head, peering down at me with a sense of awe. “Me either... but I was hoping I would...”

“Me too...”

I scan his face, still trying to wrap my head around all that’s happened. It feels like a distant dream.

“Well, I don’t want to keep ya,”

“But you aren’t!” I rush out. Once I comprehend how excited I sounded, I reel it in. “Keeping me… that is...” I assure him. A warmth rises to my cheeks and i have no doubt I’m blushing.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips. “Oh… oh well that’s good…”

“You were saying Y/N?” Valentina questions from behind the counter.

“I was what?” I ask, still distracted.

“Your mamá had a question for me?” She explains with a knowing tone.

I hum. “Oh yes, right... don’t worry about it...”

Riff smiles at my words.

“Adios then.” Valentina urges along.

I nod. “Yes... Goodbye.” Slowly, I step to the side to move around Riff. “I should be getting home...” I mumble.

His eyes remain locked on mine. We circle each other, changing positions, him inside the store and me toward the door. Eventually, I have no choice but to look away. I reach for the door handle and step out, despite my yearning to stay.

The cool night breeze brushes against my skin waking me up from my daze. I start down the sidewalk and attempt to calm myself down. Every inch of me wants to turn around, run back inside and stay with him. Yet, my mind is keeping me on Earth. If Bernardo knew... let’s just say it would do more harm than good to be around Riff.

“Hey! Wait up!”

I turn over my shoulder to see Riff jogging toward me. My eyes grow wide. Anxiously, I search the surrounding area, making sure no Puerto Ricans or Jets see us.

Once he reaches me, he takes my hand.

“No Riff, we can’t! We can’t be seen together!” I try to reason with him, urging him back toward the store. “If we-”

Abruptly, he slams his lips to mine, not caring about the consequences if we’re caught. For a second, I forget too. How could something that feels so right possibly be bad?

My hands rest against his chest and my fingers lock around his necklace, pulling him closer. He smiles into the kiss and brings his hands to my waist. He walks me back to stand against the brick wall.

“Riff please, listen!” I mumble against his lips.

He snickers. “I am listen’, sweetheart.”

“If Bernardo-”

He cuts me off with a peck.

“-Or any of the others were to see us-”

He shakes his head and presses his lips to mine.

I sigh, no longer reciprocating the action until he listens.

He chuckles, catching on. He stands up straight, pressing a palm to the wall by my head. He meets my irked expression with a smirk. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I promise, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“Maybe you can speak for your boys, but you can’t control Bernardo and the Sharks.”

“You’re right.” He nods as his features become serious. “But if I have to choose between taking a few punches for being here with you or never seeing you again, I’ll take any fight.”

My eyes fall to my fingers locked around his chain. I pick up the small silver pendant and find an image of St. Christopher on it. The patron saint of protection. Lord knows Riff needs it...

He tucks his fingers beneath my chin, urging me to look up at him. “What is it?”

I wrap my hands around his and bring it to my lips. My eyes fall shut and I kiss his knuckles. Silently, I pray all of my worrying is for nothing.

The last thing I want is more fighting, especially because of my actions.

Riff brushes his free hand down over my hair.

I open my eyes as I interlock our hands and push off the wall. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” He questions.

I tuck strands of hair behind my ear and debate whether this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. “I know where we can go.”

________________________________

I enter my apartment and lock the front door behind me. All of the lights in the kitchen and living room are out. My parents and little brother have long since gone to bed. I set my purse on the hook and the prescription bag down on the kitchen table. The floors creak as I cross the space toward my bedroom. Quietly, I slip inside and lock my door behind me.

Seconds later, my window creaks as Riff slides it up.

I kick off my heels and go to help him. I move the curtains aside as he climbs in. “You have to be quiet or my parents and little brother will hear you.” I whisper.

He emerges from the window and stands up straight.

I point at his shoes and he kicks them off in two swift motions. Then, he starts to look about the space. His hands rest on his waist as he slowly shuffles around.

I move ahead of him, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

His eyes inspect my posters, the photos on my vanity, my assignments from school on my desk.

I giggle at his curious expression. “What is it?”

He snickers, realizing how quiet he became. He shrugs. “I’ve never been in this part of the neighborhood before.”

I smirk, rising to stand before him. “Scared, Jet Boy?” I tease, snaking my arms around his torso.

He narrows his gaze as his arms engulf me. “Me? Scared? Never.”

We share in soft laughter as he brings his lips to brush against mine. Everything feels at peace when I’m with him. I worry for him, but all of them other troubles fade away.

“I hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble earlier.” He whispers.

I shake my head. “It’s okay, Sebastián promised me he wouldn’t tell Nardo.” I assure him.

His brows scrunch together with a grown. “Who is he anyway? Is he-”

“No, he’s just a friend.” I grin.

“Good.” He bites down on his lip.

A grin appears across my face as an idea pops into my head.

“What is it?” He asks.

I slip out of his arms and shuffle over to the turnable I took from the living room earlier. I click it on and bring the volume down. After dropping the needle, I turn to face a curious Riff. The soft voice of Sinatra soon escapes it.

“I believe you owe me a dance.” I extend my hand out him.

He nods, slipping his hand into mine. “That I do.”

Our hands interlock as we meet each other half way. My other hand rests on his chest while his finds my waist. Starring into each other’s eyes under the faded moonlight pouring in from my window, we begin to slow dance.

I know it’s wrong to have him here. According to Bernardo, Riff claims to hate everything about Puerto Ricans. Yet, up until this point I’ve seen no evidence of it. He hasn’t tried to hide his wrong doings to me. He’s confessed.

Riff lifts his arm, leading me to twirl. I spin slowly and he brings me into his chest.

“Who would’ve thought, the white boy can dance.” I joke.

“See, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Some things Bernardo can’t tell ya.” He winks.

If I can be a reason for Riff to make peace with Bernardo and the Sharks, I’ll take the chance. Then, only then, will us being together ever be possible. Otherwise, the hate will outweigh anything we have between us.

Riff’s eyes fall from mine as he lowers his head. He placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder.

My eyes fall shut as I ponder the feeling.

His lips glide across my skin to my neck. They press against in. His palm squeezes waist. Then, glides around to my back. His cheek brushes against mine as he lifts his head and plants his lips against mine.

Subconsciously, I cup his cheek and reach up to deepen the kiss. It grows in anticipation and I embrace it.

Soon, our hands break free of each other. Riff’s arms engulf me in a tight embrace while mine sling over his shoulders.

Abruptly, he stops. His eyes meet mine as our panting accompanies the soft music in the background. I had almost forgotten it was playing.

He’s hesitating. We’ve only known each other for a short time, but even I can tell this is uncharacteristic for him.

My hands glide down his chest and hook around halves his jacket. I guide it over his shoulders.

His eyes remain locked on mine as he shrugs it off. The clothing lands on the floor with a soft thud.

Then, I begin to lift the hem of his shirt. Without needing to watch my task, my eyes watch his face for some sort of change in reaction. Yet, he remains calm despite his heart that I can practically feel racing whenever I touch his chest.

Riff places his hands over mine and guides them to lift the fabric over his head. Then, in a swift motion, he removes his undershirt as well, pulling it over his head to reveal his porcelain white torso. Tattoos scatter his biceps and one on his collarbone.

I close the minor distance between us. My fingers glide across his skin, taking in its appearance. It’s so flawless and pure. His muscles flex under my touch. I brush my lips against his silk skin and I hear him inhale sharply. Slowly, I begin to circle him. My eyes glide over each tattoo, each scar, everything that makes him himself. With each mark and scratch, I place a kiss, as though my affection can heal him. His chest rises and falls rapidly. As my palm slips over it, I can feel his heart racing. I lift my head back, peering up at him.

His lips remain parted and his eyes steady as he brings his hand to brush my hair over my shoulder. He then glides his hand over to the back of my dress. He finds the zipper between my shoulders. As he guides it down, he brings his lips against mine. The fabric slips down my arms and soon puddles at my feet, revealing my slip.

My hands glide down his chest and hook over the hem of his pants.

He breaks from me, but cups my face to keep me close. “Are you sure about this?” He whispers.

His crystal blue eyes blind all of my senses. Everything about him consumes me. There’s only him.

I nod slowly. Reaching up, my falls fall shut and I brush my lips against his.

He completes the action, bringing his lips against mine with a sharp inhale.

I will never get enough of him.

His hands leave my face as he lowers himself. They tuck behind my legs and I wrap my legs around his waist in an effortless motion.

Soon, he lowers me onto my bed. Our lips part as he begins a tail down my neck and chest. My eyes flicker up to my ceiling as my breathing quickens. The moon’s light creates an outline of my window.

Riff hovers over me. He glides a strand of hair away from my face as his eyes search my features. “Te amo, Y/N.” He mutters.

Waves of chills course over my skin as all of the air leaves my lungs. My lips part in awe. My sight flickers about this face, searching for reassurance that I’ve heard him correctly. I find it in his eyes.

“I… I love you too, Riff.”

He shifts up to rest at my side. He looks at me as though he’s surprised. “Wait, you do?”

I giggle. “Sí.”

He releases a sigh of relief as features relax. A smile of forms on his lips. “I was kinda hoping you did…” He whispers, cupping my face as he brings his lips to mine.

_________________________________

The faint sounds of traffic, chatter, the breeze from my window, and a baby crying in the distance slowly wake me. I shift around but my motion is limited by a heavy around me. My hand moves and beneath it, skin as smooth as silk and ripples of muscle. The edge of my lips slowly curves upward as I slowly remember last night.

My eyes flicker open and adjust to the sunlight streaming in through my lace curtains. Soon, they land on a peaceful Riff. His head is tilted away from me, but I can tell he’s fast asleep as his chest rises and falls steadily.

I shift closer into his side as if that’s even possible. Slowly, I place a kiss on his shoulder. My eyes remain on his face, watching for a reaction. I place a series of them across his chest toward his neck.

He starts to stir. His arm tightens around me subconsciously.

I bite down on my lip, suppressing my amusement. My lips brush across his cheek and land on his. I press them together, this finally wakes him.

I giggle, hovering my face above his as he inhales sharply. I’m eager for him to open his eyes.

He extends his arms out, stretching them before resting them around me. He snickers. “Buenos Dias…”

I laugh. “Good morning.”

“Y/N!” My knocks on my door suddenly. “Mija! Breakfast!”

My heart immediately drops.

Riff’s eyes snap open and meet mine in a panic. “Shit!”

“Go! Go!” I usher him up in a rush.

He tosses the blankets back and tries to quietly hurry about the room to collect his clothes.

My mom knocks on my door again. “Mija! I need you to take Mateo to school on your way to the college!”

“Sí Mamá! Uno momento!” I fly up from the bed and grab my robe off my mirror. I check my appearance and my mom will wonder if I’ve been through a hurricane. “Oh Dios mío!” I mutter under my breath.

Riff fastens his belt and appears behind me. He snakes his arm around my front, holding his shirts and jacket in the other hand. He starts to leave a trail of kisses across my shoulder and slowly tugs the sleeve of my robe down to reveal more.

“Stop!” I laugh softly, peering at him through the mirror.

He grips my waist and spins me around to face him. He catches me and pulls me into him. “I’ll see you later.” He whispers before placing a quick peck to my lips.

“When? Where?” I ask, following him to the window.

He settles down on the windowsill and taps his foot. “Uh...”

“Mija!” My mother calls from the kitchen.

I huff. “Sí Mamá uno momento por favor!” Quickly, I cup Riff’s face and kiss him.

“The market?” He suggests.

“Bernardo has spies everywhere…”

He quickly slips his shirts over his head. “The subway station?”

I shake my head. Someone is always there.

He exhales deeply as his leg begins to bounce up and down. Then, his eyes light up. “Docs?”

I nod frantically, a bright smile igniting on my face. “Valentina can keep a secret.”

He grins, extending his neck up and meeting my lips for a last farewell.

“An hour?” He checks

“I have class today.” I explain. “Noon?”

“Deal!”

“Y/N! Your eggs wil get cold!” Mamá announces.

“Coming!” I shout over my shoulder.

When I turn back, Riff surprises me with a rash kiss. For a moment, we ponder it, despite our pressing circumstances. I wish he didn’t have to go. Despite my longing, I follow my better judgment and break from him.

“You have to go!” I usher him out onto the fire escape. I lower myself to his level and he turns to kneel outside the window.

He places a quick peck on my cheek. “Te amo!”

“Goodbye!” I laugh, waving him along.

“Nah, uh, uh!” He places his hand over mine on the windowsill. “I’m not leavin’ until you say it too.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help but laugh. “I love you too!” I assure him. “No, go before we both get in together!”

He snickers, leaning in for one last kiss. “Gracias.”

Knowing this will truly be the last, I cup his face, taking in every second. The want to be together is felt between us, but our circumstances forbid us.

In a flash, Riff slips from me and hurries to the railing. He leans over it, taking in the scene to make sure the coast is clear. Then, he spins around and tosses me his jacket.

“Keep it safe for me?” He smirks.

Effortlessly, he swings a leg over the railing and starts to climb over. As he lowers himself down to the level below he winks at me. “Adios, te amo!”

I peek my head out the window, watching through the small holes in the fire escape as he climbs down the building. I shake my head in disbelief, he’s crazy!

Once he’s landed, he jogs off toward the fence at the end of the alley.

I slip back inside and shut the window. A sigh of relief escapes me as I settle back onto my knees. I look at down Riff’s jacket in my lap and bring it to my chest. It smells like him, of cologne and smoke. I cling to it. I can’t help but giggle like a child. None of this feel real or even possible.

I love him.

“Y/N!” Mamá shouts, growing annoyed.

“Coming!” I huff, rising to my feet and marching toward the door. I halt, remembering the jacket. Swiftly, I hide it under my bed. Let’s pray to God my brother or Mamá don’t come snooping.

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