#if you are waiting on a response from me i’m not deliberately ignoring you i have just been So Tired DJDJF

[bravevolunteer]

hello everyone i am going to try and have a relatively productive day after rot weekend ( + monday ) so i’m gonna be doing some tasks before i come on here to hopefully write a little more and get to plotting/messages i just haven’t had the energy for my bad-

[nahoney22]

Oooo, I'm excited for your celebration!!! Congratulations!

Clone: Commander Wolffe

List: NSFW 🔞

Prompts: D17 with S20

Proof of age: I saw Jedi in the theater when it released in 1983. The Rancor will always be my fave creature in the SW universe.

Congrats again! Can't wait to see what you come up with!!

@dreamie411

Make Up Your Mind*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Wolffe X Female!Reader

word count: 3k

Prompts:

• “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that other guys name.”

• “Stars, you're so much better than the last person I was with."

When Wolffe finally had enough of letting you slip into hands that weren’t his own, he makes sure to remind you who you really belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, mutual pining, minor alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is implied to have done hook-ups before, rough kissing, nudity, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Wolffe, creampie, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, tender aftercare.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait @dreamie411, hope this is okay. 🩵

As you stand behind the bar at 79’s, wiping down the surface, you hear a gravelly voice that you recognise all too well. One would assume it was any of the Clones, but there was something different about the Commander that you just could tell the difference with.

You glance up, locking eyes with the man who has spent far too much time lingering around this bar, and a smirk tugs at your lips. Commander Wolffe is eyeing you with the same intensity he always does, though there’s something unmistakably different in the way he’s watching you now.

“What did you get up to last night?” he asks, voice low but edged with curiosity—or maybe something more.

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing that he’s fully aware of what you were up to. After all, he’d spent the better part of the night silently fuming as you entertained the advances of a flirtatious patron, someone who might’ve turned into a one-night fling if the mood had struck you. You’ve always been casual about these things—no strings attached, just a bit of fun. But judging by Wolffe’s barely-concealed irritation, it’s clear he wasn’t thrilled watching you entertain someone else.

“Just this… and that,” you answer with a cheeky grin, moving away briefly to serve a trooper from the 212th. When you return, Wolffe is still leaning against the bar, his eyes following your every move. You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

He swirls the ice in his empty glass, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim strobe lights. “Can’t a man be curious?”

Your gaze sharpens with mischief. “Depends. Not many men are curious about my sex life unless it’s for a reason.”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, and you relish the way your words get under his skin. There’s a charge in the air between you, a tension that neither of you has been willing to break. “Care for a refill?” you ask, the words slipping out smoothly.

Before he can respond, you reach for his glass, brushing your fingers against his just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a ripple through you that’s hard to ignore.

Admitted, you have thought about the idea of being with Wolffe before—how could you not? He’s rugged, disciplined, and there’s an undeniable magnetism in his reserved demeanor. And utterly sexy.

Yet, despite his clear jealousy, he’s never made a move. Maybe it’s the restraint that comes with his rank or the weight of his responsibilities, but it leaves you wondering if it’s just that what holds him back.

You pour him his usual drink, sliding it back across the bar before he can even reach for his credits. As he starts to pay, you place your hand over his, stopping him. “It’s on me, Commander,” you say with a wink.

Wolffe’s voice drops a notch, almost a murmur. “I want to give you something. You deserve it.”

You hum softly, leaning closer across the bar, teasing him with a slow, deliberate gaze that traces from his furrowed brow down to the scar that cuts across his eye, finally resting on his tense, but oh-so-inviting lips. “And what do you think I deserve, hmm?” Your voice is a playful whisper, laced with just enough suggestion to make him falter.

For a brief moment, it’s as if time stops. Wolffe’s attention is locked entirely on your lips, on the way your breath gently fans against his face. The lights of the club dance across your features, casting you in a soft, almost hypnotic glow.

He’s caught, just for a second, torn between giving in to whatever’s been simmering between you two and holding himself back. But as much as he wants to close that distance, something pulls him away.

He takes his drink, your fingers slipping away from his as he steps back, eyes soft with something left unspoken. You watch him walk away, a sigh slipping from your lips.

When 79’s finally closes for the night, the hum of laughter and music fades into silence as you finish tidying up. The bar is empty, save for the clinking of glasses you swiped from tables and the faint buzz of neon lights overhead. You wave goodnight to the other workers as they exit through the back door, their voices echoing faintly down the corridor. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you begin locking up for the night, turning toward the entrance when you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze.

A knowing smirk pulls at your lips. You don’t need to turn around to recognise who it is. “We’re closed, you know,” you call out, your voice playful.

But when you finally do turn, you find Wolffe leaning against the bar, his back to you, shoulders tense. He doesn’t move at first, the muscles in his back taut under his armor as he collects his thoughts. Something about his posture is different tonight—more guarded, more intense. You step closer, curiosity mingling. “What is it, Commander?” you ask as you lean against the counter beside him.

He straightens up slightly, turning his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his stormy gaze. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and the seriousness in his eyes causes your flirty retort to falter. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, this on edge and your smirk fades. “What’s going on?” you ask softly, cautious.

For a moment, he just stares at you, a battle clearly raging behind those eyes. And then, with a voice rougher than you’ve ever heard, he speaks. “You drive me mad, you know that?” frustration lacing every word. “Watching you, knowing you’re letting others close when all I can think about is how badly I want you. How I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

Your breath catches, pulse quickening at the raw intensity of his confession. Wolffe steps closer, closing the distance between you in one stride, his eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m done holding back,” he says, voice dark and laced with that possessiveness you’ve always suspected simmered beneath. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? About having you, in every way. About making sure you never forget it’s me you should belong to.”

The heat in his words draws something deep and electric from within you. “Wolffe…” you whisper, but it’s lost as he crowds you against the bar, his body radiating a warmth that sends your senses into overdrive. The look in his eyes is almost feral, desire mixed with a longing that makes your head spin.

His lips are on yours in an instant, rough and claiming, as though he’s been holding back for too long and can’t bear it any longer. You respond in kind, meeting his intensity, hands grasping at his armor as he presses you into the counter. The kiss is a clash of need and frustration, every pent-up emotion pouring into the way his mouth moves against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entry which you allow, your fingers tugging in his textured hair as his tongue dominates your own.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen from the fervour of it. “I’ll give you everything,” he whispers on your lips, voice a low rumble that reverberates through your chest.

There’s no hesitation in you now. You’ve wanted this just as much as he has, and the fact that he’s finally lost control is exhilarating. “Then show me, Commander,” you challenge.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a blur, he lifts you onto the bar, hands sliding possessively over your hips as he steps between your legs. The kiss that follows is deeper, more desperate, fueled by weeks—maybe months—of tension. His hands grip your waist with enough strength to leave marks, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

Wolffe’s lips leave a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moans, “You’re mine tonight. No one else. Just me.”

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, drawing him closer and with a swift, practiced motion, he begins unbuckling his armour, peeling it off piece by piece while his gaze stays fixed on yours, dark with intent. There’s no room for hesitation, only pure, unfiltered desire.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again, yanking your workshirt over your head, fingers deftly working at your waistband before he slides your pants down and panties. The tension is almost unbearable as his calloused hands slide up your thighs, parting them with authority. His lips land on yours again, hungrier than before, biting gently on your lip as he frees himself from the confines of his uniform. When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, the air thick with want.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” he mutters, voice low as his fingers slowly dip between your folds after getting your consent, finding you already slick with need. “You’re dripping for me already. You really want this, don’t you?”

You can’t help but moan softly as his fingers tease you, brushing over your clit before plunging inside. “I’ve wanted this as much as you have,” you manage to gasp, leaning back on your hands for support as his fingers begin to pump into you with a steady, ruthless rhythm.

“Good,” he groans, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Because you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been craving.” His thumb presses against your clit in tight circles as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes you shudder and arch against him.

You bite your lip, stifling the cry that threatens to spill out as your hips rock into his touch. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watches your every reaction—it’s overwhelming. “How’s that feel?” he taunts, voice thick with a mix of pride and lust. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Stars, you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”

That earns a deep, possessive moan from him, and his pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, harder. “You think I’m going to let you go to anyone else after this? Not a chance,” he hisses, clearly spurred on by your words. “I’m going to make sure I’m the only one you think about from now on.” His gaze is locked on your cunt as his fingers curl inside you

Your response is lost in a choked gasp as he withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you momentarily empty. You whine at him for stopping but your words are caught in your mouth as you watch him pull his cock free, only for him to then line himself up against you. At first he teases your sentence pearl with his aching tip, feeling you shudder against him. Then, with one fluid thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

The stretch is intense, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. He feels perfect—thick and unyielding, just what you’ve been aching for. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries his face into your neck. Then he pulls back and cups your jaw with his hand, making sure every word he’s about to say sinks in; “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that other guy’s name.”

The need between you both is primal, each thrust deep and purposeful as he claims you in the way he’s been fantasising about for far too long. His hands grip your hips with bruising force as he drives into you, the wet sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the breathless moans that spill from your lips.

“Tell me how good it is,” he commands, voice rough as his pace picks up, your legs tightening around him. “Tell me how much you like the way I fuck you.”

You don’t hold back, your voice a breathy moan. “It’s so good, Wolffe. So much better than anyone else. You’re the only one who can give it to me like this.”

That spurs him on, his movements becoming almost punishing as he growls your name, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathes against your neck, the words possessive yet laced with something deeper. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this again.”

Your body tightens around him, every ridge of his cock brushing against your walls. Pleasure builds within you until it’s impossible to hold back any longer. “Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back briefly before his eyes lock onto yours again. “You feel incredible.”

When your release finally crashes over you, it’s intense, your vision going white as your muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. He doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, praising you, until he’s right there with you, thrusts growing erratic until he spills into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

For a moment, the only sounds are the heavy breathing and the faint hum of the bar’s lights. Wolffe’s hands remain firm on your hips, almost as if he’s still afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

Before you can ask, Wolffe’s hands gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly along your cheeks. There’s a softness in his gaze now, something you’ve never seen before. His fierce determination melts away, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His thumbs continue to trace delicate patterns on your skin as if memorising every contour of your face. “I’ve watched you for so long; how you smile, how you laugh. How you take care of people, even when you think no one notices. You’re not just beautiful—you’re kind, too. And it drives me crazy because you deserve more than just a quick fling. You deserve someone who sees you for all that you are.”

His words hit you harder than any of the passion you’ve shared so far. Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes soften as he holds your gaze. For a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet moment. You’ve seen Wolffe as a soldier, a leader, but now, you see him as a man—a man who’s been holding back something real, something deep.

“Wolffe,” you breathe out, touched by his unexpected confession. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you with a gentleness that contrasts the rough desire you shared moments before. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of what’s blooming between you. His lips move against yours with reverence, taking his time as if savoring each moment.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “You’re not just someone I want in passing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you for more than just tonight.”

Your chest tightens with warmth, a rare vulnerability breaking through your usual confidence. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him in this moment. “I’ve wanted you too, more than you know. Not just for what we have now, but for what we could be.”

He studies your face for a moment, as if committing your every feature to memory, then smiles—a small, genuine curve of his lips. “I’m done hiding how I feel,” he says quietly. “You’re mine, but I’ll also be yours, in every way that matters.”

With that, he kisses you again, this time with a perfect balance of passion and tenderness, his need still evident but tempered by something deeper, more meaningful.

It’s not long until a second round of passion ensues, this time him stripping himself completely bare as he lifts you and moves you towards one of the booths for a more comfier setting. He lays you down, crawling over the top of you as his erection firms and pushes into you once again.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You can’t help but smile, the words slipping out between moans. “Beautiful… perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.” You whimper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your already dampened and filled pussy stirring your crazy.

That longing glint returns to his eyes, but this time, it’s mixed with the affection he just bared to you. “Good,” he murmurs, his pace picking up slightly, his hands never leaving your skin. “Because I’m going to make damn sure you never want anyone else.”

The rhythm between you builds again, the intensity returning as his movements grow more insistent, more determined to claim you in every way possible. But there’s a new layer to it now.

His touch was something deeper, more profound, and it’s shown in the way his lips brush against your skin, the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious. Like a porcelain doll.

As you both approach that edge again, the tension coils tight, your bodies perfectly in sync. The pleasure mounts higher and higher until it crests, a shared release that leaves you both trembling and breathless. You collapse into him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you steady, his own breath coming out in ragged pants. “Mesh’la,” he breathes, kissing your forehead gently.

For a while, neither of you move, caught in the afterglow. But then, Wolffe gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want you,” he says again, “No games, no hiding. I want us—for real, whatever it takes.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his eye. “Then we’ll make it real. But… What about your status? You’ll be reprimanded.”

“Status be damned,” he growls at the thought of the GAR taking you away from him.

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. But for once, neither of you care.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

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[luvsellie]

PEOPLE WATCHING [j. maybank]

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary jj ignoring one of his friends is strange. and off-putting. so when he does it to you, argument ensues and indifferent confessions toward one another begin to spill.

warnings rafe being an ass, mentions of abuse, semi based on s1 ep5 but also not?? don’t expect anything regarding the obx plot, reader is in a similar situation to sarah and kie’s social standing (kook-turned-pogue) !

wc 3.1k

note this song just SCREAMS jj i couldn’t not write something inspired by it! also this man is so ‘angsty-love-confession-in-the-rain’ coded why didn’t the obx writers take that chance when they had it >:(

you never thought you would see the day that jj deliberately ignored you. sure, he hated talking about his feelings, and he was too stubborn for his own good, but he had never once gone out of his way to avoid your presence. until now.

“he won’t even look at me,” you hissed at kie, eyes glued to the blond who maneuvered around groups of people, the tray in his hands lacking drinks. he had a smile on his face regardless, making small quips at people as he passed them.

kie huffed, moving her body to block off your view of jj. her lilac dress shimmered in the orange light as she said, “just give him some time. he’ll come around. he always does.”

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, spinning the ring on your index finger as you continued to try and get a clear view of him. “yeah. i guess you’re right.” 

the girl in front of you grinned in a way that seemed to say i always am.

still mildly offset about jj’s attitude toward whatever it is that you had done to upset him, you took a step back from kie, situating yourself so you could comfortably watch him once again. as you did, you noticed his back was now to you, topper, kelce, and rafe appearing to slowly herd him toward the building. the trio of men wore smug smiles, and before you knew it jj had lost his tray and swung open one of the glass doors, sprinting in the direction of the restrooms.

your eyebrows knitted together in sudden urgency, hand already swatting at kiara’s bare shoulder. “kie. kie they’re chasing him-”

“who’s- oh. oh,” kie said aridly.

“we have to go,” you told her, already gathering the skirt of your sage-green dress in a hand.

kie grabbed your arm quickly. “and do what? stab them with the back of our heels?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you told her stubbornly, ripping your bicep from her grip. “stay here if you want, i don’t care, but i’m going to go help the best i can.”

you didn’t wait for her response as you started in the direction of the door, gait switching between an uneven combination of a speedwalk and a run. whether or not jj was mad at you, nothing was going to stop you from assisting him in any way possible, especially if he was severely outnumbered. rafe was practically psychotic, his solution to everything was always violence, and topper and kelce only egged him on.

the cool a/c brought goosebumps to your skin, a chill shivering its way down your spine as you swept past people and furniture. fortunately, you spotted the dark-colored bathroom door, the sound of disgruntled male voices seeping through the wood. when you recognized jj’s, you didn’t hesitate to push past the barrier, deciding the consequences could be left for future you to deal with.

middle-age men immediately protested to your appearance, but you ignored them as you hurried in the direction of the overlapped voices, and, sure enough, you found yourself walking into the midst of the kooks jumping jj.

none of the boys noticed your presence, too wrapped up in whatever they were doing to grow aware of their surroundings. 

your attention zoned in on your beat-up-looking friend, the sight of kelce retaining him in a jarring choke hold resulting in your sudden outburst of, “what the fuck is going on?”

“oh, look who’s decided to join us,” rafe leered, his grin growing twice as big. jj continued to struggle against kelce’s grasp, saying your name dryly as his eyes jumped from you to the oldest cameron sibling.

“the hell is wrong with all of you?” your glare turned to kelce, his eyes narrowed in vain. “let him go or i swear to god…”

rafe’s face only continued to dwell with enlightenment at your interruption. he stood up straight and took a long stride in your direction, forcing you to spin toward him. he put less than a foot between his body and yours. “or you’ll do what-”

the air stilled as you slapped the man across the cheek, your palm stinging from the impact. even though he towered over your smaller person, you still sneered up at him, gaze narrowed as if he were no more than the scum on the bottom of your shoe. “you’re not the only one in this town who has a powerful father, rafe cameron. yours just happens to have the worst reputation.”

rafe’s fingers ghosted the flushed skin where you had struck him, eyebrows beginning to knit together as his familiar rage started to surface. he barely had time to speak, “you fucking bitch-” before someone cut in.

the flickering lights caught everyone’s regard, and you watched stiffly as kelce instantly released jj and spun on his heels. “gentlemen. ma’am,” a security guard addressed, “is there a problem here?”

jj was quick to jump in, rushing to say, “pardon me, officer, i just…” his blue eyes caught yours, but they jumped back the man in the black tux before you could give him a warning glance. “we just- well, actually, yes, there is an issue. we have a criminal trespass in progress here.”

you knew he was just doing the best he could to get you both out of the situation, yet you didn’t mask your rather disgusted expression as he continued.

“beep! call it in, right?” the blond urged. “blatant disrespect for private property.”

the boys around you nodded, avoiding eye contact with the guard. multiple yeahs circled the room.

“we’re in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” jj said, barely taking the motion to glance at you over his shoulder. he turned to kelce, plastering on a fake smile. he began to straighten the cyan-colored bow tie. “but these young gentlemen…” his hand was quickly swatted away. “...uh, caught us, sir, and they were about to take us away. which is what you should do; escort us out of here.”

you watched as jj offered up his wrists before looking back at you. his brows jumped to his hairline in a silent plea to just go along with the nonsense spewing out of his mouth. still mildly irritated at him and everything about whatever the fuck is going to happen as a repercussion, you exhaled sharply and took a few steps in his direction, sending a glare in rafe’s direction.

your arm brushed against jj’s as you mimicked his actions. “you caught us, officer.”

the man rolled his eyes, but reached behind you, hands roughly grabbing onto yours and jj’s biceps. “come on.”

but jj seemed to feel that he needed to add to the situation, his adhd never failing to shine in moments like these. he turned to kelce again as rafe moved closer, topper behind him. “fix that tie, son. oh, and you’re lookin’ quite spiffy too. you powerpuff girls have fun, alright?”

just as the guard was about to lead you both through the exit, rafe shouted your name. “you know you’re pretty hot for a ‘pogue!’”

jj spun before you could even react, already storming in the direction of the smirking boy. ‘mister security’ left you standing in the doorway as he trudged over to the beginnings of a fight and ripped your friend from the group. “let’s go,” he snuffed, shoving the blond harshly.

you avoided jj’s aggravated gaze as you locked eyes with rafe, still being pushed by the man. raising a hand, you flipped him off. “suck my dick, cameron.”

“knock it off,” the guard said, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your arm. his warning compelled you to turn away, huffing air through your nose in annoyance.

rafe scoffed a laugh from his spot, highly entertained by the sight before him. “hey, safe travels back to the cut, you two!”

“this shit ain’t over!” jj hollered, earning a harsh shove in the direction of the exit.

as the man directed you and jj out of the building, you made a point to not bother interacting with the boy, ignoring his existence entirely, just as he had done to you previously. talking to him at the moment would only result in yelling at each other, and the idea of that was rather repulsive.

finally pushing past one of the glass doors, you attempted to wrench your arm away. it only ended with the guard’s hands squeezing even tighter. “dude, i can walk by myself- let me go.”

jj tried the same thing as you passed a distressed-looking kiara. “yeah, we have legs. can’t you see that, daryl? and, hey, thanks for the ‘discretion.’ let us just walk out by ourselves, yeah?”

nearly stumbling on stairs because of your heels, you made a noise out of exasperation, eagerly pulling back. “give me- oh my god, just let us go!” as heads started to turn in your direction, you desperately hoped that one of your parents would show up, but as daryl continued to haul you and jj (who continuously made comments to the people he passed) away from everything, you made one last hopeless attempt to get him to let go.

“wait!” you said, this time actually tripping on your heels. faking a stumble, you very nearly successfully fell out of daryl’s grasp. “these shoes are killing my feet. let me at least take them off if you insist on dragging us through the mud.”

he rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip.

bending slightly, you raised your left foot off the ground, undoing the buckle of your heel. as you stepped out of the shoe, you went to do the other, stealing a glimpse at jj. this is too easy.

finally standing on the bare ground, you turned back to daryl, shoving your heels to his chest. “would you mind holding these for me? thanks.” using the best of your strength, you threw him off, jj happily doing the same, and began backing in the opposite direction just as your father appeared from behind mr. carrera. his face went from confusion to anger in the span of less than three seconds, and you knew you’d be in for the biggest lecture of your life when you confronted your parents later. but for now, all you wanted to do was get off the property.

and jj seemed to have a similar idea, as his fingers brushed against your left hand, gesturing with the jut of his chin when you made eye contact with him. “come on.”

unable to help the satisfied smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, you turned away, quickly following jj into the darkness as kie called after you.

“okay, i think we’re far enough,” you huffed heavily, slowing to a walk beside jj.

he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he nodded. for once he had nothing to say, and it made you stop on the sidewalk.

���so that’s it?” you started, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to look at you. “you’re just going to go back to ignoring me? after everything that just happened back there? at least tell me what i did for you to treat me like this.”

his blue eyes averted your own as he chewed on his busted bottom lip.

“what did i do, jj?” you asked as your arm fell back to your side, annoyance slipping into despair. “just tell me.”

jj looked at you, and even in the strained moonlight could you just now see how badly his upper left cheek was bruising. he was fiddling with the hem of his white button-up shirt as he stood, stubbornly remaining quiet.

sighing, you took a step closer, the pavement cool under your bare feet. he flinched back when you went to raise a hand. you licked your lips. “did…did rafe and the others do this?”

stiffening, jj lifted his chin and looked down at you, his expression morphed into something between disgust and vacancy. “no,” was all he said.

“oh,” you breathed, your body running cold, even in the humid night air. of course. “maybe you should come back home with me. i can-”

“no,” jj repeated more firmly, shaking off your words. “no, i don’t need your pity right now. go back to midsummers. you and kie looked like you were having loads of fun.”

you scoffed in sudden disbelief, realizing what this was about—why he had been ignoring you for nearly a full day. “i’m not- i’m not offering to care for you out of pity,” you told him bitterly. “you’re my friend, jj, and i’ll always try and protect you when i can. i’m sorry that you’re too naive to realize and accept that.”

jj took a step back, his hands balling into fists as he shook his head. “i don’t need your protection. i don’t need your compassion, or whatever the hell you wanna call it,” he spat. “and i don’t need you.”

“you’re just saying that,” you protested quickly, swallowing down the crack in your voice and blinking back the sharp sting of tears.

shaking his head again, jj’s lips pressed into a thin line. “go back to that big, shiny house of yours.” he wasted no time in turning around, his back straight as he walked away, the clarity of his figure growing less and less as he retreated.

unable to process the moment, you ran a hand over your face, forcing yourself to keep your composure and not yell out to him. what the fuck just happened? you thought, panic beginning to set in as jj officially disappeared around the block.

what am i going to do?

the house was quiet when you entered, and after a quick call for your parents, you realized they were still partying away at the country club. it was somewhat of a relief.

feet sore and dirty, you began to rid yourself of your jewelry, unclasping the chains around your neck and picking off the rings on your fingers. you set them on your nightstand as you shut your bedroom door, immediately falling onto your bed.

lying back to stare at the beige ceiling, you inhaled deeply, running through the events that had taken place. and it had all ended in jj leaving you. for how long, you didn’t know—didn’t even want to think about it. so, with one last sigh, you stood from your mattress, stripped yourself down, and headed toward the bathroom, already thinking up a plan for tomorrow.

“look, i wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you explained over the phone, shrugging your shoulders even though your parents couldn’t see. “it just…happened, i guess. i’m sorry.” there was a tense pause, filled by the sound of your dad sighing on the other end of the line. “can i please go now? we can talk as soon as i get home later, i swear.”

you heard unintelligible whispers before your mom said, “you cannot keep blowing us off.”

“i know, i know.” you really did not want to have this conversation when you were nearly at jj’s house, the sky murky with dark clouds. “again, i’m sorry, but you know i don’t normally do stuff like this, so can you guys please ease off?” 

“fine. only for a few hours. i want you home soon, it’s supposed to storm today. we will talk later.” your dad said roughly, irritation laced in his voice.

shoulders visibly sagging, you couldn’t help but nod in relief. “yes, thank you. love you both.” with that, you impatiently clicked the red button on the screen as jj’s house appeared. pocketing your phone, you spotted the blond in his yard, squatting next to his red dirt bike. and for a split second, you were just happy to see him, the events circling last night forgotten.

you approached quietly, making just enough noise to let him know someone was walking over. as his head turned, your jaw went slack at the fresh bruise blooming along his jawline. you cleared your throat. “hi.”

“hey.” jj returned to his bike.

“i, uh…i came to talk.” thunder rumbled from somewhere above. “about last night. about us.”

the entire way here you rehearsed what you were going to say, switching things out or removing them completely, but now, when he stood and looked over at you with a somewhat pissed-off expression, you found your tongue to be dry and your mind blank.

“what’s there to talk about.” he said it more like a statement and less like a question. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

you licked your lips as droplets started to wet your shoulders and scalp. “we both know that’s not true, jj.”

he wiped his hands on a cloth before tossing it into an open toolbox. shaking his head and sauntering forward, he said again, “there isn’t anything to talk about. you say you care about me, but you don’t. you don’t. do yourself a favor and stop lying to yourself. stop lying to me.”

“no, i do care, okay?” the raindrops began to fall harder, yet the only thing you were worried about was getting your point across. getting jj to understand. “i have cared about you for as long as i have known you. that first night at the chateau with the others…when you finally let me in…i didn’t know then, but i know now—i love you. a lot.”

jj scoffed and shook his head with an incredulous smile, his stare glued to the soaked grass, ignoring the weight of your confession. “you don’t know anything, alright? that night didn’t mean anything to anyone.”

“yes, it did!” you persisted loudly, frustrated with both him and yourself.

“no, it didn’t!” he snapped, reaching forward and grabbing the sides of your shoulders in exasperation. when you flinched at his yelling, a sudden wave of realization washed over him, and he released you with a step back, blinking rapidly against the rain. “nothing happened; nothing is happening.” he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than you. “you’re a kook. and i’m a pogue. we belong on two very different sides of this island.”

“jj,” you said softly. he remained still, hair stuck to the sides of his face as you went to cup it, palms resting against his wet skin. “just give in. for one pathetic second just forget about the social economic standing of everything and give in to me. please.” you weren’t sure whether the wetness on your face was your tears or the rain. “i know you want to, but you aren’t letting yourself. nothing you say or do will push me away. you’re stuck with me, pogue or not.”

his gaze flickered vicariously between your eyes and mouth, internally fighting with his own feelings. but, ultimately, you could see that your words had struck deep enough—that as the chill of cold water drenched your clothes and hair, as his warm fingers wrapped delicately around your wrists, thumbs sliding against your skin, you had won.

© luvsellie 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

[dark-frosted-heart]

When the Holy Beast Falls - Azel

An “If you were lovers” story. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

If Prince Azel and I were lovers…

Sometimes the Living God of Tanzanite would visit the befriended nation Benitoite.

On those occasions, he’d always have me go with him.

I’d never hear something cute like “I’ll miss you” from the two-faced god who apparently brought me along just to push me around.

But I know his true intentions.

--

Emma: Prince Azel, I’m back. 

Azel: You’re late.

Emma: I brought everything you asked me to buy since you can’t go into town, so please forgive me.

Azel: That’s not the issue.

Prince Azel, who waited by the entrance, took the packages from me.

However, it didn’t seem like he was considering the packages and studied me.

Emma: …Are you hurt?

Azel: You can see I’m not.

Emma: Then what is it?

Azel: You’ve kept me waiting because you’ve been having fun in town.

Emma: H-how did you know? Is this God’s power— 

Azel: It’s all over your face.

(I guess I was grinning)

At my honest confession, Prince Azel pinched my cheek.

Azel: You got some nerve. I’ve been waiting for you to come back—

Emma: You’ve been waiting? For me?

Azel: …Don’t get the wrong idea. I asked you to get something for me.

Emma: That’s too bad. I thought if you were waiting for me, I’d rush back the next time.

Azel: Hurry back even if I’m not waiting. That’s a debtor’s responsibility. I’ll add this late fee to your debt.

Emma: Is that okay? The more debt you add, the more you won’t be able to let me go.

Azel: …You’re getting defiant.

(You’re so awkward, truly)

With a grim look on his face, Prince Azel turned his back on me and placed items he had me get on the table.

He went to check its contents, but his hand immediately stopped.

Azel: Emma…What is this?

Emma: It’s cute, isn’t it? I made a stop along the way to buy it.

Prince Azel held Benitoite’s popular “Living God doll” in his trembling hands.

It was a small doll in Prince Azel’s likeness that was said to bring many blessings, including luck with money, love, health, etc.

(It took me a while to buy it since there as a line)

Before he could throw it against the wall, I snatched the doll from Prince Azel’s hands and held it dearly.

Emma: I bought this separately from the money you gave me. I’m not giving it to you.

Azel: Get rid of things that aren’t wanted or needed.

Emma: I refuse. He’s cute, isn’t he?

Azel: Cute?! I think you mean repulsive.

I moved the doll out of Prince Azel’s reach as he tried to steal it back and stepped away from him.

Emma: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.

Azel: No one’s telling you to take care of it. I'm telling you to throw it away.

Emma: Throw away my beloved Prince Azel? I could never.

Azel [polite]: …I see, I see. Even with the real God present, you chose the doll and casted me aside. How cruel…This is a slight toward God. This blasphemy deserves divine punishment.

(Ah—)

Prince Azel deliberately covered his face with his hands and began sobbing.

I knew it was a trap, but it hurt my conscience to ignore him.

Emma: That’s not it. However, with this doll, I can be with Prince Azel even when I’m out running errands. It’s my way of showing how much I love you.

The instant I approached the god to butter him up, Prince Azel stopped his crocodile tears, took the doll from me, and tossed it into some corner of the room. 

Emma: Ah! That’s cruel—Mn?!

My eyes widened when he stopped my protest with a kiss.

Azel: Who’s the cruel one here? Cheater.

Emma: …Even though it’s a puppet of you.

Azel: If you want my blessings so much, I’ll give it to you. You’ll have to deal with it.

A large hand grabbed my chin and our lips met again.

The kisses of a holy, unrelated god were always so greedy, greedily exploring deep inside that it made you feel like you were going to fall.

(Why is every kiss so lewd…)

Even when I nipped his lip to tell him he was going too far, the two-faced god didn’t stop and instead started tickling my ear.

Emma: Mm…Mmm!

Azel: Don’t need the doll anymore? That’s wonderful.

Emma: Wro…ah

The fingers that were tickling my ear slid down my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

I hastily grabbed the hand that was going to defile me and looked into his mysterious, starry eyes.

Emma: I can’t return to my room anymore, can I?

Azel [polite]: A message from God. You should not be alone tonight for there are bad omens.

Emma: …A lot of good things happened in town though?

Azel [polite]: It will happen, and it will surely be a misfortune.

Emma: Specifically…

Azel [polite]: Divination is an ambiguous thing. You won’t know until it happens.

Emma: Then let’s test out if Prince Azel’s divination is really correct.

Azel: Why would you do that? Are you stupid?

He cupped my cheeks and squished them.

Emma: Because lately, you’ve been saying the same thing. That when I’m alone, misfortune, bad luck, or a disaster will happen to me… So I thought I’d try it out just once.

Azel: Being fearless isn’t good. God’s words are absolute, so you must heed His warnings.

Emma: I get it Prince Azel. You just really want us to be together, don’t you?

Azel: ……I didn’t say that.

(You’re so easy to read)

Azel: I don’t care if you’re here or not. I prefer being alone.

Emma: Then— 

When I tried to shake his hands off and turn away, he hugged me tight.

Azel: You don’t believe in God’s good will?

Emma: You just need to be honest and say that you want me with you.

Azel: Aren’t you the one that wants to be with me?

Emma: If I’m the only one that wants this, then I’ll only bother you so I’ll head back to my room—

Azel: Try to go back if you can.

(Ugh…He’s so strong that I can’t shake him off!)

Even after saying all this, Prince Azel still won’t admit it.

But when I turned to look at him, we kissed for a short moment.

Azel: Ah…

It seemed like he didn’t mean to and his brows furrowed.

(He never wants to admit it, but…)

Emma: You truly do love me, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don’t be so conceited.

A blush spread across his grim face.

(...God’s blessing was real)

(Because it’s possible to make Prince Azel look like this)

With a dramatic sigh, Prince Azel rested his forehead on my shoulder.

Azel: What am I even doing?

Emma: It's love.

Azel: No. I’m in no way in love with you. Damn it…

(There’s still a long way to go, but I’ll definitely get it out of him one day)

(An “I love you” from Prince Azel)

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Convenient Inconvenience

Summary: Forced to share a tent on a mission, the simmering tension between you and Xaden finally reaches a breaking point.

Fictober Challenge

This mission had dragged on longer than expected, forcing you to settle in for the night. Luckily, Xaden had packed a small tent as an emergency measure, but he’d only packed one. That had left you frustrated, realizing that it was partly your fault too, for not bringing your own. In your defense, you’d assumed the mission would end smoothly.

A charged silence hung between you both as the reality of sharing a tent set in. You tried to keep your focus on unrolling your mat, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the tension that had been growing between you for months. The cramped space felt even smaller with him inside, every move amplifying your heartbeat as you sensed him close behind, watching you.

The silence became unbearable, heavy with something you couldn’t name, as you lay on your mat trying to feign ease. But your heart raced each time he shifted closer. Every so often, his gaze flicked over to you, lingering a bit too long, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

You had to say something, break the silence.“You really couldn’t have packed an extra tent?” you muttered, attempting to keep your voice casual but failing to mask the edge in your tone. 

He could’ve argued, pointing out that you’d forgotten your own, but he let it go, opting for a softer response. “Well, I’m sure we’ll manage for one night,” he replied, his words coming out quieter than he’d intended.

A moment passed, thick with unspoken words, and you could practically feel his smirk. He turned onto his side, facing you, his arm brushing against yours. The touch was light, barely there, yet it sent a spark down your spine. You glanced over, meeting his gaze, steady and intense, as if waiting to see if you’d pull away.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked, a hint of amusement threading his voice, almost challenging you.

You forced a laugh, shrugging, though his nearness made it hard to think straight. “I’m fine, Riorson. Just… trying to get comfortable.” You avoided his gaze, but his eyes traced over you, trailing over your face, lingering on your mouth.

Another moment passed, the air growing thicker, every breath loaded with anticipation. He shifted again, his hand brushing against yours deliberately this time, his fingers grazing your knuckles, his touch light, almost testing. “Strange,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You don’t look fine.”

You turned to him, finally meeting his gaze head-on. His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with unspoken desire. “You’re… seeing things,” you managed, struggling against the heat radiating from him and the way his gaze seemed to strip away any defense you had.

“Am I?” he asked, his tone smooth and teasing, his mouth twitching into the faintest of smirks. “Because you seem a little… tense.”

You gaze flicked involuntarily to his mouth, and that fucker noticed, his smirk deepening. “And if I am?”

His hand shifted, his fingers tracing a light, almost absentminded line along your wrist, the touch setting your skin alight. “I could help with that,” he murmured, his eyes encouraging as they locked on yours, his face now only inches away, the question clear in his gaze.

You wanted to tell it was because of him, but you had a feeling he already knew.

You swallowed, your words caught in your throat, the tension between you impossible to ignore. His fingers continued their maddening path, traveling up your arm, igniting every inch they touched. You could’ve sworn he was slowly undressing you with his eyes, ready to ravish you at any moment.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips, his gaze heavy-lidded, dangerous. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, “and I will.”

Your mind went blank, no rational thought left. You wanted him, you needed him. So instead of stopping him, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft but deepened quickly, years of restraint breaking in an instant. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together in the small space as the air around you cracked. Each touch, each kiss fueled a fire you’d tried for so long to ignore. You’d probably regret this in the morning, but right now, you didn’t care. All you cared about was him- his touch, his kiss, and everything that would follow.

[valeriianz]

Dream is trying to be good. He is out of his house, for starters, attempting to mingle among the crowds. He figures this effort alone is worth at least 10 points on the socialization scale.

He may be wearing black on black as usual, but at least this is his nice pea coat, and his jeans don’t have any rips in them. His hair is even washed (though he hadn’t bothered with a combing, minus 3 points).

It’s New Year’s Eve, he’s standing at one of the few scattered tables around the large space. The bar’s ceiling and walls are lit up in a colorful agglomeration of Christmas lights and twinkling decor, so much that the people around him appear to have pink or blue or orange skin, otherwise the place is dark.

Dream drums his fingers on the tall table’s surface, scanning the crowd and trying not to look too uncomfortable at the DJ’s choice in thumping bass and current rap trends blanketing the ocean of conversation happening all around him.

“Hey, how are you?”

Dream watches as a man walks around him to stand across the table, setting a drink down and smiling in a lazy, drunk way.

Dream just stares.

“Sorry, I saw you standing alone and thought you might want some company.”

The man has to lean forward and yell to be heard over the music and people. Dream is responsive enough to at least lean in as well to catch the stranger’s words.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Dream barely has to raise his voice, thanks to his natural baritone. He’s thankful for that; he hates shouting and to do so just to commit to a conversation would be tribulation.

The man doesn’t seem to catch Dream’s response though, or doesn’t care to. He takes a sip of his drink and tries again, his fingers curling around the pint.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Dream seizes the opportunity to politely turn this man away from him.

“No, thank you. My boyfriend is getting my drink.”

The man’s brows pinch together.

“Where is your boyfriend?”

He says it like it’s a joke. Like he’s caught Dream red-handed. Dream sighs and turns to look at the crowded bar.

“He’s right…” Dream’s eyes desperately scan the scene of chaos at the bar, hoping to find Hob’s familiar head of dark brown hair, his mischievous caramel brown eyes, or even the bomber jacket he wore tonight. But from here, it’s difficult to spot anyone’s face in the crowd. The blinking lights give off strange shadows and everyone is moving, either dancing or stumbling to push through the dense sea of bodies.

He hears a soft laugh from the man across from him and looks over to find him shaking his head, but he’s smiling.

“Look, I don’t mean to come off strong, but someone as gorgeous as you shouldn’t be alone on New Year's Eve.”

Any patience left for this man is immediately snuffed out, like water tossed onto a fire.

“I told you, I’m–”

“Waiting for your boyfriend, uh huh.” He grins with his teeth and Dream barely restrains from throwing his head back in annoyance. 

If there weren’t a threat of getting lost in the crowd, Dream would abandon his station here and go looking for Hob. But he knows it’s better to stay here and wait as he had been, despite the nuisance still attempting to converse with Dream.

He steps around the table to stand next to Dream, who takes a deliberate step sideways away from him.

“What’s your name?”

Dream ignores him, head now permanently angled towards the bar.

“You know,” he starts up again and Dream eyes flutter shut, praying for patience. “The longer you ignore me, the more persistent I’ll become.”

Dream opens his eyes and levels the man, who is definitely drunk, with an unamused look.

“Even if I weren’t already spoken for, this is a terrible way to receive my affections.”

“He speaks!” The man exclaims and laughs. Dream pinches the bridge of his nose and has officially made the decision to lose his mind at the stranger, when he blessedly feels two familiar strong arms wrap around his waist.

“Sorry that took so long,” Hob speaks directly into Dream’s ear, no need to shout with lips tickling his skin. “I got us two drinks each so we don’t have to deal with that again.”

Dream smiles, unaware of how tense he was as his body relaxes against Hob’s– before it sharpens to a smirk at the utterly baffled expression on the strange man’s face.

Hob’s lips trail up the shell of Dream’s ear, his nose nudging in his hairline as he speaks again, his hot breath warming Dream up from the inside and sparking a sudden and intense feeling of surrender in Hob’s possessive hold. 

“Who’s your friend?” And fuck, Dream can hear the control in Hob’s voice. The question is innocent enough, but the way his tone pitches into a growl, low and dangerous, makes Dream’s toes curl. 

“I don’t know,” Dream answers simply, one brow arching at the other man, giving him the decency to turn and walk away on his own before Hob can make a show of animalistic ownership that Dream can practically feel radiating off Hob’s self-control.

Thankfully the stranger leaves, which is just as well, though Dream would have rather liked being ravished with an audience.

He turns to face Hob properly, duly noticing the drinks on the table and slips his arms around Hob’s middle, bringing them flush together in what can only be described as a bear hug.

Dream tucks his face under Hob’s jaw– bending his knees a little– and inhaling deeply, the scent of Hob’s cologne grounding him, and exhaling loudly through his mouth and smiling again at Hob’s deep chuckle that rumbles through his own body.

“You good?” Hob asks into Dream’s hair, placing a kiss there.

“Mm…” Dream hums. “I’m great.”

[nanamincreampie]

Badboy Sukuna part 2

Sukuna Ryomen x Black plus size reader

(part 1 )

Warnings: mentions of giving of a hickey, fingering, squirting, body worship ( kinda), Sukuna being a tease

Badboy Sukuna, who had never been one to hold back, felt the tension in your dorm room the second you started acting differently. The awkwardness between you wasn’t just casual discomfort, it was thick, almost tangible, charging the air with a kind of electricity Sukuna couldn’t ignore. You, sitting at the edge of your bed with your notes spread in front of you, seemed intent on avoiding his gaze, giving nothing but dry, clipped responses every time he tried to make conversation. And the way you stuttered whenever he flirted with you? That only made his curiosity burn hotter.

He sat across from you, sprawled out lazily in the chair by your desk, dark eyes narrowing as he leaned back. The way you nervously fidgeted with the pen in your hand only added to the awkward tension hanging between you. And Sukuna wasn’t the type to just let that kind of thing go.

“What’s going on with you?” His deep voice broke the silence, his tone just on the edge of amused as he propped his feet up, kicking the table lightly. His gaze was piercing, locking on your face as you stubbornly avoided looking at him. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

You didn’t answer him right away, your hand tightening around your pen as you stared at the textbook in front of you, feigning focus. “I’m fine. Let’s just focus on studying.”

Sukuna scoffed, not believing you for a second. “Yeah? You’re a terrible liar.” He leaned forward slightly, a smirk playing at his lips as he pressed on. “Is this about that kiss on the cheek yesterday? That’s what’s got you all flustered, huh?”

You froze, your cheeks burning at the mention of the kiss, your grip tightening on the pen. You could feel his gaze, sharp and predatory, boring into you, waiting for any reaction. And he got exactly what he was looking for.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, getting up from the chair and moving toward you with that signature confidence, hands tucked casually into his pockets. He towered over you, his shadow falling across your face as he studied you, taking in the nervous way you shifted on the bed.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave as he crouched down in front of you. His hand reached out, fingers curling gently around your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his. “You really think you can avoid this? Avoid me?” His lips were close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “It’s just a kiss, sweetheart. Or are you too shy to admit you liked it?”

You swallowed hard, trying to pull your face away from his grip, but Sukuna wasn’t having it. He smirked, his hand sliding from your chin to the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness of your body.

“Sukuna, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat, especially when you saw that glint in his eyes. His hands slid down your hips, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch making your skin tingle.

Without warning, Sukuna pushed you back onto the bed, his body looming over yours, pinning you in place. The skirt you wore earlier was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving you in nothing but your panties and the blouse that clung to your curves.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” Sukuna growled, his voice low and rough as his hands skimmed over your thighs, gripping the soft flesh. He spread your legs easily, settling himself between them, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you beneath him. “Do you know how hard it’s been to focus when you’re sitting there, looking like that?”

His fingers trailed up your thighs, inching closer to the edge of your panties. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the rough pads of his fingers graze your skin. His touch was slow, torturous, teasing you with the promise of more. And when he finally hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your thighs, you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped your lips.

Sukuna’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, the soft, wet heat between your thighs on full display for him. His lips curved into a wicked grin as he traced a finger down the slick folds of your pussy, feeling how soaked you were.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust as his finger teased your entrance. He pressed in just a little, just enough to make you squirm beneath him. “All this from a little kiss on the cheek? You’re something else, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more contact, more of that delicious friction. But Sukuna wasn’t in any rush. His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration of your folds, collecting the slickness there, making sure you felt every agonizing touch.

“S-Sukuna, please…” Your voice was shaky, almost a whimper, and the sound of it made his grin widen. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping lightly at your pulse as his fingers finally slid inside you, deep and slow.

“Look at you,” Sukuna growled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Already begging for it. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His fingers pumped in and out of you with a steady rhythm, curling just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside, making your thighs tremble.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed as Sukuna’s fingers worked you open, his thumb brushing over your clit in a way that made you see stars. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, and it only got worse when he lowered his head to press his lips against the soft skin of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading your legs wider as he moved faster, his fingers now slick with your arousal. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting into you filled the room, mingling with your soft moans and heavy breaths. Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk against your neck, clearly pleased with how wrecked you were becoming under his touch.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, his voice husky as he continued to pump his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. “All these curves… fuck, you don’t even know what you do to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. The tension was building fast, a coil tightening deep inside, ready to snap at any moment. You could feel the pressure mounting, your body teetering on the edge, and Sukuna knew it.

“Come on, baby,” Sukuna murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I can feel you’re close. Don’t hold back. I want to feel you come for me.”

His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that spot perfectly, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your body tensed, your thighs shaking as the orgasm ripped through you, intense and overwhelming. The sensation was so strong, so sharp, you cried out, your hands gripping the bedsheets as Sukuna worked you through it.

And then it happened,your body released, a clear stream of liquid spurting from between your thighs, soaking his hand and the bed beneath you. Your vision blurred as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Sukuna’s eyes widened in surprise, but the shock quickly gave way to a satisfied grin as he looked down at the mess you made. “Holy shit,” he muttered, clearly impressed as he pulled his fingers from you, admiring the way your body shook with aftershocks. “You fucking squirted. Damn, you’re full of surprises, huh?”

You were too dazed to respond, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Sukuna chuckled softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, the contrast between his earlier roughness and this sudden tenderness making your heart skip a beat.

He pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “You’re something else, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I’m gonna make sure that happens every time.”

Still breathless, you could only nod, the heat of his words lingering in the air between you as you laid there, utterly spent.

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos With Rin

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, also you can ignore the last 2 lines if you want to read this as platonic!

Aka: maladaptive daydreams by yours truly that I cleaned up and formatted. Part 2 here

“Sometimes I wonder if the idealized, romanticized version of relationships I’ve built up in my head are subconsciously affecting my navigation in reality.”

“What?” Rin asks, rolling over from where he lies on his bed to look at you, his teal eyes switching from his phone to glance over at you.

“Sorry, that was word vomit.” You say waving a hand dismissively before speaking again. “It’s just… I mean that I wonder if my expectations of romantic relationships have been distorted because of all the media I consume. And I wonder if that would ruin any chance I have of a healthy relationship.”

You absentmindedly start fiddling with your fingers as you speak.

“Like, for example dating sims, every love interest is over possessive and jealous, and that’s fine, cause it’s a fantasy. And obviously it’s not endorsed in real life, because if you date someone who foams at the mouth every time you look at another man, you’ll have issues. But… sometimes I wonder if I’ll think back to those dumb games when I’m in a relationship and choose something unhealthy for myself.”

A comfortable silence lapses after your ramblings and you wait patiently for your best friend's response.

“…you sure do think a lot more than I expected.” He says after a while and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You drone out. “You know what? I’d rather you have just flipped me off and called me a dumbass than whatever attempt of a compliment that was.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, I meant that I’d never once thought about that.” He says cooly, in a way that makes you unfairly jealous of his demeanor.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not surprised. Your brain is composed of 50% football and the other half is basic motor skills. I doubt you’ve even thought of anything outside of that.”

“…not true.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Somewhere, squeezed between the cracks of those key areas, is your vast knowledge of horror trivia.” You joke, your eyes darting over his sprawled form.

“…” He hesitates to respond before muttering out. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean then?”

“…nothing, never mind.”

“Oh boo, you whore.” You scoff, sitting up in his desk chair to devote your attention to him. “Come on tell meeee! I tell you everything… well, almost everything but— nonetheless…”

He glares but you simply smile at him before waiting eagerly for him to finally loosen his tongue and spill whatever he has locked away from you.

And maybe deep down he knows that there’s no winning against you because he ends up opening his mouth to speak.

“I…I think about romance sometimes.” He eventually admits, his eyes darting back to his phone in embarrassment.

“Oho?” You straighten up further, a goading grin on your face much to his annoyance. “Our little Rinrin is growing up!”

“Fuck you, this is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“Aww come on, I won’t tease you anymore I promise! Please tell me more!” You practically beg, looking at him with prying eyes.

“This is lame.” Rin scoffs.

“You’re lame! Romance is perfectly natural. Anyways, is this a crush? A passing fantasy?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I live vicariously through my friends’ love lives, now spillll!” You say, dragging out the last syllable deliberately to piss him off.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” You say a pout on your lips.

“Because you’re annoying and you’re only asking to make fun of me.”

“What? Me?” You gasp out in faux surprise. “Never, could I ever make fun of you, after all you’re my dearest most important–”

“Save it.” He cuts you off, content to ignore you now, engrossed in his phone.

“Kill joy… I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You say darkly before leaning back to sulk in his chair.

“Over my dead body.” He mutters, but if you looked over to him again, you’d see the tell tale way his gaze fell back to you.

Unfortunately for you, Rin’s crush would stay a secret for just a little while longer.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Seven Years Close

Do you accept Leon's proposal to marry? You can't tell if he's trying to get into your bed or if he has genuine feelings.

a/n: so this was supposed to be knight leon and then somewhere along the road i was lost in lana and taylor and so now you get this asjkfwfioasajwqe do you fw me???

tw: sweetie pie fluff <3

wc: 2.9k

You cast a distasteful glance at the platter of raspberry tarts being passed around the room, servants anxiously staring up at you, wide eyes silently pleading you to take one. Taking pity, you curl your fingers around one of them and slowly nibble, leaning back against the wall.

Your twin sister, Rebecca, the heir to your family legacy, is nowhere to be seen. It’s become a rare occurrence to even see her around the estate, since she’s almost always frolicking off with one of her new suitors, twirling her hair and giggling as they make such fools of themselves, performing advanced melodies on their lutes and harps.

What good is art if there is no soul behind it? In twenty one years, you have not yet met a single man with a personality outside of the court, outside of succeeding to their family’s expectations, siring heirs before retiring to their homes on the coast, living out the rest of their miserable lives listening to the redundant waves wash onto the shore.

“What’s a lovely miss like you doing here, all alone?” You don’t recognize the voice and have to look up to match the tone to the face, and the face you see is not one you wish to see. 

The prince of the kingdom, the man every woman wishes for and sees in their dreams. Leon Kensington. Believe it or not, it hurts you every time you see him, because anytime he meets your eyes, all you can remember is…

“Take it. Don’t be shy, it’s my gift to you!”

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you mumble, the once sweet fruit tasting infinitely bitter on your tongue. You resist the urge to scrape it on the back of your hand and instead offer a polite nod, shifting your weight so you’re facing away from him. “How nice to see you here.”

“There are times when I look at you and wonder what my life would be like if we had never met,” he says wistfully, completely ignoring your greeting.

“And?”

Leon smiles. “And my breath hitches, like my body’s reminding me that not meeting you would be like living a life with no air.”

“That will not work on me, dear prince,” you drone, steeling your mind against the sweet line. As much as you wish to believe it is true, you know he’s just trying to get into your bed. “I’m not as incapable as your lovers.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, stepping even closer to accommodate for the space you very deliberately just put between you two. “It is a nice gathering, yes?” You note the subtle change of subject and resist smirking.

“Nothing I wouldn’t expect from the House of Redfield,” you jest. “They are known for their majestic sceneries.”

“I didn’t know the Duchess was accustomed to the wilderness,” he replies with fake shock, arching his hand on his chest. “I always took you for a lady afraid to get your slippers wet.”

And just like that, in one mercurial swing, you’re back to irritation. 

“Duchess is a title reserved for my sister,” you hiss from behind clenched teeth. “If you put effort into every woman you woo with your irresistible charm, you might’ve known that.”

You’re mad, but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. It’s not like you recognize the man in front of you. He’s older, more mature, and it shows in the defined slants of his face. But you can’t forget what you’ll always remember.

You don’t wait for a response. Instead you stroll away, seething in anger, searching the crowd for your sister. When you finally spot her usually tame, brown locks, somehow already tousled, you link your arm through hers and pull her away from the Baron Wesker, who looks far too old for her.

She lets out a yelp of protest, fixes her face and wiggles her fingers in goodbye to the man, before turning to you and huffing.

“How dare you!” she whines, smoothing out her dress. “Where are you taking me?”

“We’re going home,” you grumble. “I will not stand a second longer in this wretched place.”

“Excuse you! Duchess Claire is one of your closest friends!”

“And, unfortunately for us, she’s fallen ill, and her brother is tending to her. So unless you get in the carriage, I will be forced to resort to shoving my slippers up your-”

“I get it!” she groans. “You ruin all my fun.”

Aren’t I the only one.

<><><>

When Jillian hobbles into your room, you already know that something’s been arranged. The woman raises her eyebrows and lets out an amused chuckle when you groan.

“Are you far too busy to be bothered by His Royal Majesty himself?” she muses, handing you an envelope tightly clutched in her frayed hands. Streaks of gray already line her dusty hair. She’s old enough to be your mother, so, lacking a parental figure, you and Nysa consider her to be. 

“Your uncle has requested you attend the-”

“Absolutely not.” 

Jillian frowns. “Child.”

You’ve already skimmed the letter, and after getting past the first line, your mind has already been made up. Of all the things your uncle could force you to do under the illusion of ‘it’s what’s best for the family’, this was one you simply could not comply with.

“The arrangement for alliance between House Kensington and House Chambers? Seriously? That isn’t even my true name!” you protest, pointing directly to where the loopy handwriting, signed by the prince himself, ends.

“This is not an offer, girl,” Jillian lectures in return, her long, simple ivory dress sweeping the dust from the wooden planks. “You are expected to attend. Tonight.”

“What if I choose not to?” you reply defiantly, glaring up at her. She looks down at you for a moment, fingers tightening around the roll of newspapers in her hand before frowning and immediately proceeding to whack your back with the paper.

You scramble from your chair and she chases you around the room, pummeling you until you finally agree, panting heavily. For someone who looks old enough to be Queen, she sure is quick on her feet.

Later that evening, her nimble fingers thread your hair into complex twists, weaving in strands of worn-out gold, like a tapestry not quite finished.

“I wore these when I met my lover,” she whispers as she works, her faded eyes finding yours in the mirror. “He said I looked radiant, outshining the sun itself.” She presses a soft, tentative kiss to the top of your head. “Do not lose this one, child. I only wish to see you happy.”

You can’t tell if she’s talking about the braids or if she’s talking about Leon. Giving your hand to him in marriage seems like the worst possible idea you’ve ever had, and although you are sure you will deny everything Leon thinks of you, some part of your mind wants to make this woman happy, wants to gain her approval, wants to see her smile again, because you did this for her, no? You’ve done everything you’ve ever done for her.

The self-defense training, the balls, galas, everything you dreaded growing through your teenage years, it was all so much more tolerable with Jillian’s comfort, however weary.

That’s exactly why you put on your brightest, most stunning smile as you approach His Royal Highness, his wife, and of course, his two eldest sons.

Steven, heir to the throne, sulks in his chair, lazily slouched with his feet draped on his armrest. He is the image of one of the seven deadly sins; sloth. 

You were raised in a family where sins were forbidden and to even think of them would require serious action. Rebecca chose to ignore your uncle’s rules after your parents’ passing while you strove to stick to them, knowing that if it were not for your uncle, there would never be a future for either of you.

“Your Majesty,” you finish, curtsying in front of Leon. You feel his gaze on your neck, dropping everywhere on your body, and you feel Rebecca tense besides you, because she doesn’t know why he’s not paying attention to her.

You do. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. 

While your uncle converses with Their Majesties for wedding plans, you all are excused to mingle in the common room. You realize that this is the perfect chance to leave Leon alone, therefore providing you with solitary comfort, but then Jillian flashes through your mind, and you realize you have to make this work, however uneasy you feel.

His eyebrow arches as you approach to stand next to him, while your sister shoots off to bat her eyelashes at Steven.

“You’re much more boring than you usually are,” Leon drones, thumbing the sleeves of his linen jacket. “I was expecting something more extravagant.” 

“If you wanted extravagant,” you retort, “you should’ve picked one of your bedchamber women to marry.”

“You think I want to marry you?” Leon scoffs, as if the idea’s never crossed his mind. You hope it hasn’t. “Heavens no. This is for the sake of the throne.”

“Your father thinks marrying into our bloodline is best for the kingdom?” You restrain from making a sarcastic sound of your own. “Pardon, but he’s thoroughly mistaken.”

“How so?” Leon twists to face you, eyes sparkling with a newfound curious light.

“Truly? A bastard orphan and a woman who’s already shared her bed with multiple other men,” you drawl. “Is that the ideal legacy you’d like to uphold?”

“We would be in shambles without you,” he admits, looking down at you, thin, golden eyelashes framing his pensive eyes. “And even if you don’t wish to marry me, I assure you that I will do my best to be whatever you need.”

“I… suppose I can reciprocate that,” you stumble over your words, finally coming to some kind of unspoken agreement. At your flushed state, Leon smirks.

“What if I asked for your firstborn child?”

You can’t hold back a grin. “What, are you suggesting you participate in witchcraft?”

He chuckles, a gentle, unrestrained sound that seems to resonate through you. “No, of course not. I was simply curious.”

“Hm,” you hum, debating the reality of the question. “You are the prince, yes? I have sworn my undying loyalty to you, so if you asked for my child, however heart wrenching, it is my duty to hand whatever you wish over.”

“Heart wrenching?” Leon pauses, then shrugs, laughing softly. “Have you forgotten already, my dear? Your firstborn child is mine either way.”

“Oh.” You flush an even deeper red, realizing the true meaning of his words. “Yes… I suppose that is correct.”

“Why are you always like this around me?” he queries after a beat of silence. “You seem… tense?”

“I’m not tense,” you assure, far too quickly to convince him.

“Don’t lie,” he says, voice lower, quieter. It has a new level of intimacy you weren’t prepared for. “Tell me what you are thinking about.”

“Right now?” 

He nods. “Right this moment.”

You inhale sharply. “I’m… thinking about our ceremonial day back when we were in school.”

Leon tilts his head to the side. “Why on Earth would you be thinking of that?”

“I have this image of you in my mind, as a small boy, with mud in your suit and branches in your hair, and you came up to me.”

“I… handed you a leaf,” he continues slowly, as if just remembering the memory. “Yes, I recall that day. You were wearing that lovely pink dress.”

“Do you…”

“Recall that I asked for your hand in marriage?”

There’s a beat of silence before you hesitantly answer, “Yes?”

“Can I ask why this is bothering you?”

“You are so… different, now,” you rush to finish, wanting to get all your thoughts out quickly. “You’re not the same Leon.”

“Are you the same?” he asks in return. “It has been seven years. A lot has changed, between the two of us.”

“We were so close,” you whisper, slightly dazed.

“We are close now, too,” he says, but you get the sense he’s not talking about emotionally. He’s moved to sit near you, breath fanning your nose, eyes searching yours with a familiar warmth, yet deeper. A spark stirs in your core, fading embers rekindling.

"The boy who gave me leaves cared deeply," you say softly. "As I hope the man does."

Leon smiles. "As does the woman. You still love me?"

You scoff. “Still? You’re still as cocky as ever.”

Leon grins boyishly. “Some things will never change, hm?” His hand finds yours, fingers entwining. But where innocent affection left off, desire awakens, smoldering beneath your skin.

Eyeing lips but a breath apart, Leon whispers, "May I?"

Your pulse quickens as you nod. As his lips meet yours, the fluttering flame within blossoms into a radiant glow, spreading warmth through your veins with sentiments left unspoken for too long. You finally realize that avoiding your past was the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

When he pulls away from you, curling his fingers along the side of your cheek, the longing in his face is evident, like he’s finally seeing something he forced himself to block out for so long. 

“Why did I ever let you go?” he asks, voice feather soft, but you understand he’s asking himself, pitching his regret. His expression is gentle as his gaze shifts to your hair. “Was your hair always golden?”

“I do think you have been paying attention to me over the years,” you muse, lying your head against the sofa. “I’m flattered.”

“Who didn’t?” Leon arches a golden eyebrow. “Surely you’ve noticed the amount of suitors trailing you around everywhere you go? Just last month I rode past your estate and there was a line of men waiting to call on you.”

“And they were all such boring lads,” you drawl, groaning just from the memory. Leon leans on his fist, propping himself up against the wood to face you.

“No one is as charming as me,” he says sweetly. “It pleases me to hear that you’ve finally realized this.”

“Yes, Leon,” you manage through snickers. “You are indeed very charming.”

“Yes, very well, go on,” he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What else do you find lovely about me?”

“You’re truly asking for this?” Leon nods eagerly, so you consider him for a moment.

"Let's see..." you ponder thoughtfully. "Your ego knows no bounds.”

Leon pretends to wince. "You wound me, my dear!" He declares with feigned drama.

"Your hair remains equal parts charming and disastrous, as in days of your youth." He runs a hand through his tousled locks, shifting them so the sun hits them perfectly, an effervescent glow around them.

"Your smile is as radiant as the summer sun. Your eyes are as warm as a crackling hearth," you continue, gazing deep into azure depths.

"My, such flattery! When did you become such a poet?" he quips, returning your easy smile.

You cock your head sideways. "There is one quality more that makes you singular amongst men..."

Raising his eyebrows, Leon leans forward as if onto a delicious secret. "And what quality is that, pray tell?"

"Your boundless arrogance knows no competition!" you exclaim as Leon clutches his chest in exaggerated fashion.

“Wounded yet again!” he whines, but there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes. “And here I was, blindly assuming your adoration for me was sincere.” 

“Of course it is,” you say dotingly. “But someone must keep that ego in check.”

“Who better for the job than my future wife?” 

You tilt your head, regarding him with amusement. "Is that a proposal, my prince?”

"Would you accept, if it were?" Leon returns casually, yet beneath you spot profound hope. Perhaps there is a way to not only get what you want, but also to win Jillian’s praise.

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Lovely,” your uncle states from across the room. You peek over the top of the cushion to see your uncle and Their Majesties standing behind you. You don’t know how long they’ve stood there, and you’re not sure you want to. “Then the wedding will be set.”

“Do you know where Steven is?” I hear the Queen murmur.

“I’m quite sure he disappeared off to his chamber.”

The Queen sighs. “With the girl?”

“With the girl,” the King confirms. “I suppose this would also mean that we will need to plan their wedding, as well?”

“Splendid!” your uncle coos. “The royal family will be covering all expenses, correct?”

You assume they nod, because your uncle starts to gush about all the decorations and banquets and how your wedding will be the most stunning wedding of the century.

You cast a wary look at Leon. “Are you still sure you want to marry me?” Leon rests his hand on top of yours, looking at you with utmost sincerity. 

“Are you being serious? Because, darling, I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life in love with you.”

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 20 - 2nd chances ☄️

Tags : hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

~

“Relax that grip, your lightsaber is not going to fly away.”

Anakin turns around from where he’s performing his kata, alone in the training room as the sun only starts to rise in the early morning hours, and glares at Obi-Wan. Even without having to feel him in the Force, the older Jedi can tell that by his posture alone that something is wrong.

“I’m not a Padawan anymore.” He huffs, turning his back again and centering his balance, deliberately ignoring Obi-Wan.

“And yet, you hold that thing like one.”

Anakin, who started yet another set of kata interrupts himself in the middle of a move, turning his lightsaber off and walking straight to Obi-Wan, shoulders and faces tensed.

“What’s your problem ?”

“What’s yours ?” Obi-Wan replies quietly, crossing his arms on his chest. “You’ve been unfocused all day yesterday, you made mistakes you shouldn't have made, mistakes that could have cost you your life or Ahsoka’s one. And you’ve been ignoring me.”

Anakin grits his teeth, hand curling tightly around the handle of his lightsaber. His eyes are thunderous, and even though he’s shielding from Obi-Wan, the older Jedi can still feel anxiety and anger crashing like waves against the walls he built around his mind, letting some of it leak through the cracks.

“I’m not ignoring you.” He decides to say, which Obi-Wan finds interesting because it was the less relevant reproach he made.

He should have redirected the conversation to Anakin’s mistakes, to his responsibilities as a Jedi Master and as a General, he should have lectured him about his recklessness and his tendency not to follow orders but sometimes, sometimes he’s just a man.

“Then why didn’t you come to bed last night ?”

“Couldn't sleep.” Anakin groans, looking away and pushing his sweaty curls out of his face.

“You’re doing it again.” Obi-Wan says, trying not to let hurt show on his face, even though it flashes in his eyes for a second.

“Doing what ?” Anakin mumbles.

He’s looking at the floor, shoulders tucked in as he swings his lightsaber left and right. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, like a kid being scolded and Obi-Wan sighs as they’re about to have the same conversation for the hundredth time.

“You’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not.” Anakin replies immediately, like he always does. “I just needed space, you can’t seem to understand that.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, a sharp pang of pain stabbing him right in the guts. His throat feels dry suddenly.

“Alright, then.” He says, turning on his heels. “I’m giving you space.”

He’s almost at the door when Anakin’s steps echoe on the marble floor, fast and uncertain.

“Obi-Wan, wait.”

Obi-Wan doesn't wait. He walks through the door, taking the corridor that leads to his quarters. He’s tired of repeating the same things over and over again, he’s tired of letting Anakin stomp on his heart and try to fix it afterwards. He’s tired and he would like to be the one someone takes care of for once.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin walks after him, and Obi-Wan can feel him try to reach out through their bond, but he keeps it tightly close. “I didn't mean it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Maybe I did.” Anakin admits. “But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just… You know I’m shit at talking, opening up to people or whatever.”

“You sure are.” Obi-Wan replies impassively. “That’s why you even stopped trying.”

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin realizes then that he’s not going to get away with an apology.

Looking around to be sure they’re alone, he grabs Obi-Wan's wrist and pulls him closer. Someone could turn at the angle of the corridor at any moment but Anakin doesn’t care, he cups Obi-Wan’s face and pulls him into a kiss, trying to express all his chaotic feelings into this simple gesture.

Obi-Wan gasps softly into the kiss, closing his eyes for a second. He could give in, pretend that everything is alright when Anakin kisses him like that, holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, he could push his pain even deeper inside and endure for another day.

There was a time when the warmth of Anakin’s embrace, the passion in his eyes and the softness of his skin were enough to ease whatever conflicts arising between them. There was a time when Obi-Wan would look away from all the unaddressed, ugly things stagnating in the meanders of their resentment just because Anakin took him in the safety of his arms and told him it was alright, they were stronger than this.

But there’s only so much someone can endure before starting to crumble. Obi-Wan feels like pieces of him have been crumbling for a long time.

He can’t keep denying, pretending and lying to himself when his heart is bleeding out in Anakin’s hands, no matter how he tries to fix it with pretty words and empty promises.

Gathering all of his remaining strength, Obi-Wan gently pushes Anakin back, tearing himself away from his warmth and already shivering at the loss of it. He knows he’s the first one who’s going to suffer but he has to do something before it destroys them both.

“We should take a break.”

“A break ?” Anakin frowns, his arms still wrapped around his waist. “Yes, of course. I’m gonna go shower and then we can do whatever you want. We could go to that-”

“A break from us, Anakin.” Obi-Wan interrupts him quietly.

Anakin’s expression morphs into complete confusion, his brows furrowing and lips parting as he stares at Obi-Wan in incomprehension.

“What…?”

Obi-Wan swallows, compelling his voice to stay steady.

“I think we should take some time away from each other, for our own good.”

The look on Anakin’s face flickers between incredulity, hurt and confusion. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he has any idea of what he’s talking about. He probably has no idea of how much Obi-Wan is suffering right now, and has been for some time.

“But why ?” He asks, fingers tightening on the fabric of his tunic.

“Because…” Obi-Wan exhales, keeping his eyes on him. “Because I need it. I need a break. I need time to think.”

“Think about what ?” Anakin asks, voice hardening.

Obi-Wan can see him tensing by the second, jaw locked and shoulders contracting in a straight line. He knows exactly how this will go. He braces himself for the anger already dancing in Anakin’s eyes, knowing that it will pass eventually.

“About us.” Obi-Wan replies. “This… What we have now, this is not healthy, Anakin.”

“What ? Because I didn’t sleep with you last night ?” Anakin asks incredulously.

Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. How could he explain several months of things going down in only a couple of words ?

“It’s not that. Not only. It’s just… a lot of little things. Like the fact you never talk to me when things go wrong.”

“That’s why you want to break-up ?!” Anakin exclaims, taking a step back and breaking all contact between them. “Because I’m not talking to you ?”

“I didn't say I wanted to-”

“You don’t love me anymore.” Anakin interrupts him, his face twisting into something complicated.

“I never said that, Anakin.” Obi-Wan replies.

“You said you wanted to be away from me, what's so different ?” Anakin asks, breath catching in his throat.

“I said I wanted some time to reflect on our relationship.” Obi-Wan corrects, forcing himself to stay firm.

“Away from me.”

“It would be… easier, yes.” Obi-Wan admits.

He has to look away at the hurt, so obvious on Anakin’s face.

“I don't understand.” He breathes out. “At least tell me what I did, we can talk about it, we can… we can find a solution. There’s always a solution, that’s what you tell me all the time !”

“I talk to you all the time.” Obi-Wan lets out a mirthless laugh. “You never listen.”

“But I can listen.” Anakin retorts, grabbing him again, more desperately. “I can listen, now. Please. I can do better.”

“Anakin…”

Obi-Wan tries to gently untangle his fingers from his tunic but Anakin grabs him harder.

“No no no, please. Please, Obi-Wan.” He gasps, panic mixing with despair on his features, eyes filling up with tears. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Obi-Wan knew it was going to be difficult. Resisting Anakin’s anger was one thing but his sadness and desperation were something else. He never learned how not to fold when he was crying. But he had to learn because making another concession now was only going to postpone the problem, he knew it.

“I’m not leaving you.” He whispers, cupping his cheek to brush away a tear rolling down his cheek. “I just need some time.”

“You’re leaving me.” Anakin says, a small sob breaking past his lips. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Obi-Wan repeats as patiently as he can while his own heart breaks in his chest. “I’m not leaving you. I love you. I just need to figure out where we’re going with this.”

“Why can't we figure it out together ?” Anakin asks, tears streaming down his face freely now. “How much time do you need ?”

“I don't know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Please don't make this even harder.”

Anakin lets go of him, then. He steps back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his tunic while wet sobs continue to shake his chest.

“I only have you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart clenches painfully at this. He knows that, and he also knows that it’s not right. Anakin should have other people to rely on, friends to talk to. He knows it's partly his fault if he doesn’t, he should have pushed more, maybe force him to create links with other kids. But the only one he wanted to talk to, to be close to was Obi-Wan and maybe Obi-Wan’s ego was perfectly content, fed with Anakin’s exclusive attention.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Leaving Anakin crying in the middle of a corridor, depriving him of any comfort, closing his part of the bond from his pain was probably one of the hardest things Obi-Wan ever did.

But it was that or losing himself.

~

Surprisingly, Anakin gives him space. He doesn’t try to reach out to him after their last discussion and he even accepts to go on a mission on the Outer Rim.

For two weeks, Obi-Wan is alone with himself.

At first it’s hard. There are signs of Anakin everywhere. From the toothbrush near the sink to the smell of his soap on the sheets. Obi-Wan can't bring himself to clean them.

The worst part is the deafening silence of their bond. Where they spent days and nights sharing thoughts and feelings and sensations there’s now an aching emptiness that almost makes Obi-Wan break down and give in.

Almost.

Every time he thinks about messaging Anakin on his comlink he remembers about the sleepless nights he spent alone in their bed while Anakin was somewhere else, cutting himself from him.

He can't live like that. He can’t keep running helplessly behind Anakin to only get crumbs of what's happening inside his mind. He can't keep making compromises when Anakin simply imposes. He can't keep suffering in the name of unconditional love.

Maybe he should put some conditions. Build some boundaries, which he never really did because Anakin had the habit of putting his walls down as soon as he tried to protect himself, always begging for more of him in the middle of the night and Obi-Wan would give him eventually. More and more and more until there was nothing left of himself.

He desperately needed to find himself again.

So he uses this time alone to take care of his body and mind. He spends a lot of time outside, feeling at peace only when he’s in the middle of raw nature, surrounded by the living Force so thick he can taste it on his tongue. He spends a lot of time meditating also. Training, stretching, walking around and cooking.

It strikes him then, how poorly he’s been taking care of his body in the last couple of months. He notices it in the way his joints and muscles ache unusually when he stretches, or in the more pronounced hollow of his cheeks and stomach when he looks at himself in the mirror.

It frightens him, how easy it was to stop caring about his body and mind, how easy it was to let himself be consumed by Anakin’s hunger, how easy it was to accept it as his new normality.

When he realizes about this, he knows it’s the beginning of his healing journey.

One day, as he gets back to his quarters after he spent the day hiking on the mountains of a neighboring planet, he finds fresh flowers in front of his door.

They’re gorgeous, a mix of colors and smells that delight all of Obi-Wan’s senses. He doesn’t know what kind of species they are but he's sure they can’t be found on Coruscant. And there’s a lot of them ; the bouquet is so huge that he almost misses the little box tucked between them and the door.

Kneeling in front of the present, he tucks the flowers in the crook of his arm, softly inhaling their exotic perfume, and picks up the box with his other hand. There’s a note on it. Obi-Wan can't help his heart from racing when recognize Anakin’s wobbly handwriting.

I miss you impossibly. I’m ready to listen, if you still want me.

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. He turns the card around and there it is, one single instruction.

You know where to find me.

Obi-Wan puts the card down with trembling hands. Anakin is back. Anakin is here. Anakin brought him flowers, which never happened before.

Enjoining himself to stay calm and to not throw away almost three weeks of hard work on his needs and limits, he brings everything to his room and sits at his desk to think.

The box contains one of Obi-Wan’s favorite essences of tea, as well as a little vial of perfume, something that brings vivid memories back when he smells it. There’s only one place where it can be found so either Anakin was sent to this system for his mission, or he made all the way there to bring him back something he knew Obi-Wan loved dearly.

Either way it makes his heart flutter all the same.

As much as he wants to go find Anakin, he still takes the time to put the flowers in a vase, take a shower and put on a drop of the perfume he's been offered.

It’s almost dark outside when he leaves his room, heading to the Temple’s rooftop. He knows Anakin is waiting for him there. It’s the spot where they spent many nights looking at the starry skies, Obi-Wan teaching the constellations and their mythology to his Padawan. It's the spot where Anakin hides when he’s angry, frustrated or sad and doesn't want anyone to find him, except Obi-Wan. It’s the spot where they kissed for the first time, awkward and sweet and so perfect. It's the spot where Obi-Wan spent sleepless nights after he decided to take a break from Anakin.

And now Anakin is there, sitting on the edge of the roof, in the exact same spot Obi-Wan saw him for the last time. The deep orange light of the sunset bathes him in warm colors, painting his curls and face in red gold. He had pulled his hair from his face, tying them in a neglected bun on the back of his head, letting the rest flow freely down his back. Obi-Wan loves how long they are now.

He approaches and Anakin gets up from the railing but he stays where he is.

“Hi.” He says hesitantly.

“Hello, Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiles softly, joining him to sit by his side on the edge of the roof.

Anakin sits back at a reasonable distance and Obi-Wan can see him swallowing tightly.

“I missed you.” He whispers, tucking his hands inside of his sleeves as if to prevent himself from touching Obi-Wan.

“I missed you too, dear one.” Obi-Wan replies. “How was your mission ?”

Anakin bites his lip and nods, looking at his feet.

“Good. It was interesting. People were very kind to us.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Did you make some friends ?”

Anakin nods again, to Obi-Wan’s surprise.

“Actually, yes.”

He gives a side glance to the older Jedi, cheeks turning slightly darker.

“I had interesting discussions with some of them. Made me understand a lot of things.”

Obi-Wan quirks an eyebrow, curious.

“Really ? About what ?”

“About… About love and relationships.” Anakin answers. “About hurting people we love even when we don’t mean to.”

Anakin turns to him then, giving him an hesitant look.

“You talked about all that with people you just met ?” Obi-Wan asks.

Saying that he was surprised is an understatement. But he’s also glad that Anakin found someone to talk to.

“I talked about you.” Anakin admits. “About us. I was a bit desperate, I think. I didn’t want to lose you. I- I didn’t think it would feel so… liberating.”

Obi-Wan blinks, wondering if he heard right.

“You talked about us to… random people ?” He repeats, just to be sure. “And it made you feel better ?”

“Don’t worry.” Anakin replies quickly. “They don't care that we're Jedi. They promised they’ll keep it a secret and I trust them.”

“That’s not… what bugged me the most.” Obi-Wan admits. “Do you want to share what you learned ?”

Anakin nods and then scrunches his nose.

“Rule number one, don’t fuck up the most beautiful thing happening in your life if you don't want to get slapped behind the head. Even if I think it helped me get my mind straight.”

Obi-Wan blushes a bit and chuckles as he imagines the scene in his head.

“But seriously.” Anakin continues, anchoring his eyes in Obi-Wan’s. “I’m sorry I’ve taken you for granted like… from the start. It’s so easy to love you I guess I just forgot to make efforts.”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan bites the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from saying it’s okay.

It’s not okay. He has to stop making excuses for Anakin. He has to stop forgiving everything, especially when it hurts that bad.

“Thank you.” He says instead.

“I hurt you.” Anakin keeps going. “I didn’t realize how much. I- I had a hard time understanding that it was not one bad thing, but several little along the way. I understand now, and I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan moves closer, taking Anakin’s hand in his own.

“I should have told you before.” He confesses also. “I should have been clearer and I should have set boundaries from the beginning but I was afraid to do so. So I guess we share the blame.”

Anakin squeezes his hand gently, caressing his skin with his thumb.

“I’m ready to make efforts, you know ? I don't ever want to lose you again, it’s… I can’t breathe when you’re away from me. I want you to be happy because I’m not happy if you aren’t.”

“Will you come to me when you're feeling bad ?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I’ll try my best.” Anakin replies, but it’s enough for Obi-Wan for now.

Wrapping his arms around Anakin’s shoulders, he pulls him into a tight embrace and Anakin immediately finds his place back into his arms, like a missing piece made to fit against his chest.

“I love you.” Anakin murmurs against his neck, heart beating against Obi-Wan's as it should be, always.

“Until the end of times.” Obi-Wan whispers back against his hair.

[asacredthebread]

cover by @no-other-mashter

A Cabin In The Woods - Ch4

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader - 18+

𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

Warnings/Themes: Oral (r), Slight Teasing, Gentle Sam, Unprotected Sex

an: i’m gonna be so fr this entire chapter is just smut, i had other plans but it is what it is

wc; 9.1k

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @gretavanfan @dannys-dream

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The charged atmosphere crackled around you, filled with unspoken potential as you looked into Sam’s playful eyes. Something had shifted palpably between you, and neither of you could ignore the deeper undercurrents swirling just beneath the surface. Your hearts were racing, and for once, the playful antics of your past rivalries felt like a backdrop to something more profound.

“I mean, you’ve built yourself up some kind of reputation,” you teased softly, your tone lightening but the glimmer of seriousness still dancing in your gaze. “You can’t keep throwing those kinds of challenges at me without backing them up. If you really think you can impress me, then this is your chance to show me exactly what you can do.”

The moment those words passed your lips, his expression transformed. The lazy grin that had been teasing at the corners of his mouth widened, an almost playful arrogance lighting in his eyes, as if he were savoring the bait you had thrown out. “Oh, I intend to,” he replied, voice low and smooth, brimming with an irresistible confidence that sent another rush of warmth through you.

With that, he shifted closer, clearing the distance yet again. He lowered his head slightly, and you felt the air between you thrum with anticipation. It had been mere seconds, but those seconds stretched like a taut string, threatening to snap at any moment. Just as you started to breathe in the excitement of it all, you felt the soft brush of his lips against your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Sam took his time, mapping out a path along your skin, his lips just gentle enough to tease. Each kiss was calculated, deliberate, as if he were thoroughly studying you, learning every respond you had to give. You could sense the playful teasing from earlier morph into something far more intimate, a current of desire threading through the moment that held you both captive.

As he kissed your neck, you felt him graze his teeth over your skin, a sensation that left a pulse of warmth in its wake. It was playful yet sensual, a dynamic based on that unyielding tension as he explored the tender spots where your heartbeat quickened. “You like that?” he murmured, the breath of his words ghosting over your skin, rich with the promise of more yet to come.

Your response was a mix of breathy laughter and a quiet sigh that betrayed how incredibly aware you were of him. The familiarity of Sam’s teasing ways, once infuriating, now turned tantalizing and precisely what you craved. “You keep this up, and I might just be convinced,” you teased back, fighting to keep your voice steady as you savored the sensations stirring within you.

He chuckled against your throat, the sound reverberating through your body as his lips continued their exploration. The teasing had settled into a rhythm that was undeniably enchanting, cocooning you both in a world of your own. “Oh, just you wait,” he replied, his voice a rich whisper laced with the earnestness of a promise.

With each kiss, each gentle graze of his teeth, the memories of past rivalry evaporated, melting away into something warmer. You could feel the invisible walls you had both built slowly crumbling, each brush of his lips allowing you to let go of everything you had held onto before. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket, shielding you from your scattered thoughts and fears alike.

As he continued to explore the curves of your neck, you surrendered to the delicious blend of his kisses and gentle nibbles, losing yourself in the sensation. The exhilaration of feeling desired mingled with the warmth radiating from him, drawing you deeper into a space you had always wondered about but feared venturing into. Realizing how much you had wanted this connection made it all the more intoxicating.

Sam’s kisses traced up to your jawline, lingering there for just a moment as he paused, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your face. You could feel the rapid thrum of your heart, responding eagerly to this new chapter between you, where tension had given way to tenderness. The heady mix of his teasing smirk and the palpable depth of feeling ignited a fire within you, urging you both to delve further.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, before darting in to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth, holding the unspoken promise there suspended in the air, heavy with anticipation.

You took a steady breath, feeling the heat radiating from both your bodies, a whirlwind of emotions swirling insightfully around as you gazed into his eyes, searching for the sincerity behind his playful exterior. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted, your vulnerability stark yet thrilling. “But I’m more than willing to find out.”

With that, Sam held your gaze for a heartbeat longer, and there was an understanding there, an acknowledgment of stepping into uncharted waters together. He was no longer just that familiar rival; he was something far more tantalizing—a partner in a venture that promised adventure and exploration.

As he leaned in again, drawing you closer, you couldn’t help but feel excited for all that came next, ready to break down the last remnants of your former selves and dive boldly into the warmth that beckoned, enveloped deeply in the promise of discovery.

Sam’s eyes glinted with mischief and undeniable warmth as he leaned closer, closing the space between you. He let out a low, approving hum that reverberated in your chest, igniting an exhilarating mix of affection and anticipation. The sound stirred something deep within you, a thrill that sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. There was an undeniable power in those playful moments, a pull that beckoned you to lean into what lay ahead.

With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing against your sides as he slowly began to pull it over your head. The fabric slipped away, revealing you to the warmth of the room, the cool air causing you to shiver slightly at the sudden exposure. It was a sharp contrast, heightened by the intimacy that flowed between you both in that moment.

“You know,” he teased, a playful lilt in his voice, “I could warm you up as quickly as I can.” His eyes roamed over you, filled with equal parts admiration and playful challenge, and the implication of his words sent another flutter through your heart.

Your breath hitched, the teasing nature of his tone wrapped around you like a silken thread, binding you in the very intimacy you both craved. “Oh, is that so?” you replied, trying to maintain a semblance of confidence even as your cheeks flushed with warmth. The playful aura of your previous debates was still there, but now it acted as a backdrop to something profoundly deeper, a thrilling chess match where desire marked each strategic move.

“Absolutely,” he replied, inching closer as he let the shirt fall to the side. The intensity in his gaze could have melted ice, and the mere thought of his promise hung tantalizingly in the air. “But I think you might need to take those shivers away first. Tell me, what would make you warmer?”

There was a breathless challenge in his tone, and you could sense the inquiry was layered—an invitation not just for physical closeness but for vulnerability. You swallowed hard, heart racing at the thought of what you were both beginning to explore, a territory ripe with emotional and physical nuances that had always threatened to spill over before.

“Maybe you should start by getting a little closer,” you replied with a playful smirk of your own, tilting your head slightly. The moment became a game of push and pull, of uncertainty and trust, and you sensed the thrill of whatever this new relationship would develop into.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in just a fraction more, hands sliding around your waist as he guided you closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a delicious secret. “But first… I want to make sure you’re really ready for it.”

With that, he pressed his lips back to your neck, continuing from where he had left off. His kisses trailed lower, leaving a path of soft warmth in their wake. You felt yourself melt further into him, the gentle caress of his lips igniting something deep within you. He pressed delicate kisses along your collarbone, grazing the sensitive skin just enough for your body to arch toward him instinctively, craving more of that tempting warmth.

“See? Starting to warm up already,” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, the mischief in his eyes undeniable. The playful jab at your state of being only fanned the flames of excitement within you, and you couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly.

“Well, you do have a talent for it,” you admitted, the sincerity slipping past your lips almost involuntarily, making the air between you thrum with an electric current. The tension built with each second, the dynamic between you evolving, creating a bond that was undeniably deeper than anything you could have foreseen.

“I’ll admit my skills have improved,” he said, a hint of arrogance dancing in his tone, even as sincerity glimmered beneath. “But I’m only getting started.” The promise was there, thick and palpable, hanging between you as you surrendered to the warmth of the moment.

His hands found their way back to your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as he continued to explore, igniting every nerve ending as he worked to pull you close again. You looked into his eyes, your heart racing even faster now, the thrill of the unfamiliar territory you were both navigating washing over you like gentle waves.

“Then what’s next?” you challenged softly, the breath caught in your throat as you relished the newfound confidence in the burgeoning connection between you.

Sam's eyes sparkled with playful intent as he leaned back slightly, studying you in a way that sent a fresh thrill of anticipation cascading through your core. “Next? Oh, I think it’s time we find out just how well we really work together,” he replied, a teasing smirk spreading across his features.

As you gazed into his eyes, your heartbeat steadying in the newfound intimacy beneath the teasing nature of your interactions, you realized that every hopeful promise lingered on the horizon, waiting patiently for you both to explore the depths of your connection fully. And with Sam, you felt ready to meet whatever came next, eager for the journey that lay ahead.

The charged atmosphere crackled around you, filled with unspoken potential as you looked into Sam’s playful eyes. Something had shifted palpably between you, and neither of you could ignore the deeper undercurrents swirling just beneath the surface. Your hearts were racing, and for once, the playful antics of your past rivalries felt like a backdrop to something more profound.

“I mean, you’ve built yourself up some kind of reputation,” you teased softly, your tone lightening but the glimmer of seriousness still dancing in your gaze. “You can’t keep throwing those kinds of challenges at me without backing them up. If you really think you can impress me, then this is your chance to show me exactly what you can do.”

The moment those words passed your lips, his expression transformed. The lazy grin that had been teasing at the corners of his mouth widened, an almost playful arrogance lighting in his eyes, as if he were savoring the bait you had thrown out. “Oh, I intend to,” he replied, voice low and smooth, brimming with an irresistible confidence that sent another rush of warmth through you.

With that, he shifted closer, clearing the distance yet again. He lowered his head slightly, and you felt the air between you thrum with anticipation. It had been mere seconds, but those seconds stretched like a taut string, threatening to snap at any moment. Just as you started to breathe in the excitement of it all, you felt the soft brush of his lips against your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Sam took his time, mapping out a path along your skin, his lips just gentle enough to tease. Each kiss was calculated, deliberate, as if he were thoroughly studying you, learning every respond you had to give. You could sense the playful teasing from earlier morph into something far more intimate, a current of desire threading through the moment that held you both captive.

As he kissed your neck, you felt him graze his teeth over your skin, a sensation that left a pulse of warmth in its wake. It was playful yet sensual, a dynamic based on that unyielding tension as he explored the tender spots where your heartbeat quickened. “You like that?” he murmured, the breath of his words ghosting over your skin, rich with the promise of more yet to come.

Your response was a mix of breathy laughter and a quiet sigh that betrayed how incredibly aware you were of him. The familiarity of Sam’s teasing ways, once infuriating, now turned tantalizing and precisely what you craved. “You keep this up, and I might just be convinced,” you teased back, fighting to keep your voice steady as you savored the sensations stirring within you.

He chuckled against your throat, the sound reverberating through your body as his lips continued their exploration. The teasing had settled into a rhythm that was undeniably enchanting, cocooning you both in a world of your own. “Oh, just you wait,” he replied, his voice a rich whisper laced with the earnestness of a promise.

With each kiss, each gentle graze of his teeth, the memories of past rivalry evaporated, melting away into something warmer. You could feel the invisible walls you had both built slowly crumbling, each brush of his lips allowing you to let go of everything you had held onto before. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket, shielding you from your scattered thoughts and fears alike.

As he continued to explore the curves of your neck, you surrendered to the delicious blend of his kisses and gentle nibbles, losing yourself in the sensation. The exhilaration of feeling desired mingled with the warmth radiating from him, drawing you deeper into a space you had always wondered about but feared venturing into. Realizing how much you had wanted this connection made it all the more intoxicating.

Sam’s kisses traced up to your jawline, lingering there for just a moment as he paused, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your face. You could feel the rapid thrum of your heart, responding eagerly to this new chapter between you, where tension had given way to tenderness. The heady mix of his teasing smirk and the palpable depth of feeling ignited a fire within you, urging you both to delve further.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, before darting in to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth, holding the unspoken promise there suspended in the air, heavy with anticipation.

You took a steady breath, feeling the heat radiating from both your bodies, a whirlwind of emotions swirling insightfully around as you gazed into his eyes, searching for the sincerity behind his playful exterior. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted, your vulnerability stark yet thrilling. “But I’m more than willing to find out.”

With that, Sam held your gaze for a heartbeat longer, and there was an understanding there, an acknowledgment of stepping into uncharted waters together. He was no longer just that familiar rival; he was something far more tantalizing—a partner in a venture that promised adventure and exploration.

As he leaned in again, drawing you closer, you couldn’t help but feel excited for all that came next, ready to break down the last remnants of your former selves and dive boldly into the warmth that beckoned, enveloped deeply in the promise of discovery.

The charged atmosphere crackled around you, filled with unspoken potential as you looked into Sam’s playful eyes. Something had shifted palpably between you, and neither of you could ignore the deeper undercurrents swirling just beneath the surface. Your hearts were racing, and for once, the playful antics of your past rivalries felt like a backdrop to something more profound.

“I mean, you’ve built yourself up some kind of reputation,” you teased softly, your tone lightening but the glimmer of seriousness still dancing in your gaze. “You can’t keep throwing those kinds of challenges at me without backing them up. If you really think you can impress me, then this is your chance to show me exactly what you can do.”

The moment those words passed your lips, his expression transformed. The lazy grin that had been teasing at the corners of his mouth widened, an almost playful arrogance lighting in his eyes, as if he were savoring the bait you had thrown out. “Oh, I intend to,” he replied, voice low and smooth, brimming with an irresistible confidence that sent another rush of warmth through you.

With that, he shifted closer, clearing the distance yet again. He lowered his head slightly, and you felt the air between you thrum with anticipation. It had been mere seconds, but those seconds stretched like a taut string, threatening to snap at any moment. Just as you started to breathe in the excitement of it all, you felt the soft brush of his lips against your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Sam took his time, mapping out a path along your skin, his lips just gentle enough to tease. Each kiss was calculated, deliberate, as if he were thoroughly studying you, learning every respond you had to give. You could sense the playful teasing from earlier morph into something far more intimate, a current of desire threading through the moment that held you both captive.

As he kissed your neck, you felt him graze his teeth over your skin, a sensation that left a pulse of warmth in its wake. It was playful yet sensual, a dynamic based on that unyielding tension as he explored the tender spots where your heartbeat quickened. “You like that?” he murmured, the breath of his words ghosting over your skin, rich with the promise of more yet to come.

Your response was a mix of breathy laughter and a quiet sigh that betrayed how incredibly aware you were of him. The familiarity of Sam’s teasing ways, once infuriating, now turned tantalizing and precisely what you craved. “You keep this up, and I might just be convinced,” you teased back, fighting to keep your voice steady as you savored the sensations stirring within you.

He chuckled against your throat, the sound reverberating through your body as his lips continued their exploration. The teasing had settled into a rhythm that was undeniably enchanting, cocooning you both in a world of your own. “Oh, just you wait,” he replied, his voice a rich whisper laced with the earnestness of a promise.

With each kiss, each gentle graze of his teeth, the memories of past rivalry evaporated, melting away into something warmer. You could feel the invisible walls you had both built slowly crumbling, each brush of his lips allowing you to let go of everything you had held onto before. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket, shielding you from your scattered thoughts and fears alike.

As he continued to explore the curves of your neck, you surrendered to the delicious blend of his kisses and gentle nibbles, losing yourself in the sensation. The exhilaration of feeling desired mingled with the warmth radiating from him, drawing you deeper into a space you had always wondered about but feared venturing into. Realizing how much you had wanted this connection made it all the more intoxicating.

Sam’s kisses traced up to your jawline, lingering there for just a moment as he paused, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your face. You could feel the rapid thrum of your heart, responding eagerly to this new chapter between you, where tension had given way to tenderness. The heady mix of his teasing smirk and the palpable depth of feeling ignited a fire within you, urging you both to delve further.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, before darting in to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth, holding the unspoken promise there suspended in the air, heavy with anticipation.

You took a steady breath, feeling the heat radiating from both your bodies, a whirlwind of emotions swirling insightfully around as you gazed into his eyes, searching for the sincerity behind his playful exterior. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted, your vulnerability stark yet thrilling. “But I’m more than willing to find out.”

With that, Sam held your gaze for a heartbeat longer, and there was an understanding there, an acknowledgment of stepping into uncharted waters together. He was no longer just that familiar rival; he was something far more tantalizing—a partner in a venture that promised adventure and exploration.

As he leaned in again, drawing you closer, you couldn’t help but feel excited for all that came next, ready to break down the last remnants of your former selves and dive boldly into the warmth that beckoned, enveloped deeply in the promise of discovery.

Sam’s eyes glinted with mischief and undeniable warmth as he leaned closer, closing the space between you. He let out a low, approving hum that reverberated in your chest, igniting an exhilarating mix of affection and anticipation. The sound stirred something deep within you, a thrill that sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. There was an undeniable power in those playful moments, a pull that beckoned you to lean into what lay ahead.

With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing against your sides as he slowly began to pull it over your head. The fabric slipped away, revealing you to the warmth of the room, the cool air causing you to shiver slightly at the sudden exposure. It was a sharp contrast, heightened by the intimacy that flowed between you both in that moment.

“You know,” he teased, a playful lilt in his voice, “I could warm you up as quickly as I can.” His eyes roamed over you, filled with equal parts admiration and playful challenge, and the implication of his words sent another flutter through your heart.

Your breath hitched, the teasing nature of his tone wrapped around you like a silken thread, binding you in the very intimacy you both craved. “Oh, is that so?” you replied, trying to maintain a semblance of confidence even as your cheeks flushed with warmth. The playful aura of your previous debates was still there, but now it acted as a backdrop to something profoundly deeper, a thrilling chess match where desire marked each strategic move.

“Absolutely,” he replied, inching closer as he let the shirt fall to the side. The intensity in his gaze could have melted ice, and the mere thought of his promise hung tantalizingly in the air. “But I think you might need to take those shivers away first. Tell me, what would make you warmer?”

There was a breathless challenge in his tone, and you could sense the inquiry was layered—an invitation not just for physical closeness but for vulnerability. You swallowed hard, heart racing at the thought of what you were both beginning to explore, a territory ripe with emotional and physical nuances that had always threatened to spill over before.

“Maybe you should start by getting a little closer,” you replied with a playful smirk of your own, tilting your head slightly. The moment became a game of push and pull, of uncertainty and trust, and you sensed the thrill of whatever this new relationship would develop into.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in just a fraction more, hands sliding around your waist as he guided you closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a delicious secret. “But first… I want to make sure you’re really ready for it.”

With that, he pressed his lips back to your neck, continuing from where he had left off. His kisses trailed lower, leaving a path of soft warmth in their wake. You felt yourself melt further into him, the gentle caress of his lips igniting something deep within you. He pressed delicate kisses along your collarbone, grazing the sensitive skin just enough for your body to arch toward him instinctively, craving more of that tempting warmth.

“See? Starting to warm up already,” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, the mischief in his eyes undeniable. The playful jab at your state of being only fanned the flames of excitement within you, and you couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly.

“Well, you do have a talent for it,” you admitted, the sincerity slipping past your lips almost involuntarily, making the air between you thrum with an electric current. The tension built with each second, the dynamic between you evolving, creating a bond that was undeniably deeper than anything you could have foreseen.

“I’ll admit my skills have improved,” he said, a hint of arrogance dancing in his tone, even as sincerity glimmered beneath. “But I’m only getting started.” The promise was there, thick and palpable, hanging between you as you surrendered to the warmth of the moment.

His hands found their way back to your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as he continued to explore, igniting every nerve ending as he worked to pull you close again. You looked into his eyes, your heart racing even faster now, the thrill of the unfamiliar territory you were both navigating washing over you like gentle waves.

“Then what’s next?” you challenged softly, the breath caught in your throat as you relished the newfound confidence in the burgeoning connection between you.

Sam's eyes sparkled with playful intent as he leaned back slightly, studying you in a way that sent a fresh thrill of anticipation cascading through your core. “Next? Oh, I think it’s time we find out just how well we really work together,” he replied, a teasing smirk spreading across his features.

As you gazed into his eyes, your heartbeat steadying in the newfound intimacy beneath the teasing nature of your interactions, you realized that every hopeful promise lingered on the horizon, waiting patiently for you both to explore the depths of your connection fully. And with Sam, you felt ready to meet whatever came next, eager for the journey that lay ahead.

The playful atmosphere crackled with tension, a current of desire flowing between you as Sam’s teasing words hung in the air like a spell you both were leaning toward breaking. That need was only intensifying, and with a sudden surge of boldness, you reached behind his head and pulled out the hair tie that had kept Sam’s hair neatly secured earlier.

With a flick of your wrist, the hair tie sailed through the air, landing softly on the floor—a tangible token of the playful game you both had been engaging in. Sam raised an eyebrow, his teasing smirk morphing into a look of curiosity as he processed your unexpected move. Unfazed, you narrowed the distance between you, a spark of mischief dancing in your eyes.

Without wasting another moment, your fingers eagerly found their way into the soft strands of his hair. The sensation was electrifying, and as you tangled your fingers in the silky locks, you felt an exhilaration bubbling to the surface of your skin. A soft tug accompanied your movement, gently pulling him closer as you leaned into him, wanting to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Sam’s breath hitched, a low moan escaping his lips at the gentle tug of your fingers. It was unexpected—a sound that sent a jolt of surprise through you. The deep timbre of his voice resonated in your chest, echoing the heat of the moment and adding a whole new layer to the intimacy unfolding between you. “Oh,” he breathed, his eyes widening slightly, catching the surprise flickering across your face.

You hadn’t anticipated such an immediate reaction from him; the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch sent a ripple of satisfaction through you. Encouraged by that stirring sound, you began to pull gently, relishing the way he leaned into your hand, inviting you to explore deeper into this newfound territory.

“Looks like someone enjoys a little bit of a rough touch,” you teased softly, your heart racing at the unexpected turn of events. The boldness of your actions stirred something primal within you, urging you to explore the wild side of this connection that seemed to pulse between you both.

Sam chuckled softly, albeit breathlessly, a hint of embarrassment mixing with the devilish grin that emerged on his lips. “Guess I’m just full of surprises,” he quipped, eyes glinting with mischief anew. But there was more than just the playful challenge in the depths of his gaze; there was a tangible hunger, an invitation to dive deeper into the whirlwind you were creating together.

As your fingers continued to thread through his hair, you felt a new kind of power surging within you—the delightful surge of camaraderie mixed with something else entirely, something daring and entirely yours to explore. You reveled in the feel of his soft hair brushing against your palms, the deepening connection developing between you that felt unique to this moment. You wanted to push boundaries, to see just how far you could go while discovering each other anew.

With each gentle pull, you watched as Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, lost in the sensations coursing through him. The sight of him surrendering to the sensations gave you an intoxicating rush—his reactions were your fuel, igniting an unquenchable thirst for more.

“You’re gonna use that against me, aren’t you?” he whispered, voice low and laden with challenge, sending a thrill through you with the implication of your role in his arousal. The question hung between you, warm and inviting, transforming that playful rivalry into something filled with urgent promise.

“Oh, absolutely ” you replied, a sultry smile curving your lips as a newfound determination blossomed. You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his, the thrill of impending intimacy heightening the charged atmosphere brimming with excitement.

His lips brushed against yours, before you began to graze your own against the sensitive skin of his neck, the taste of skin igniting a flame that consumed you both. Sam let out another quiet moan, more pronounced this time, and the sound sent delightful chills racing down your spine. The way his body responded ignited something deep within you, urging you to take this moment to new heights.

With encouragement echoing in that sweet sound, you intensified your efforts, marking him softly with kisses, tracing your way up to his jawline, leaving trails of warmth over his skin. “You know, I think I could get used to this little game,” you murmured against his neck, the words tumbling out with a teasing lilt.

His lips parted to respond, but instead, a low groan escaped him as you tugged on his hair once more, savoring that raw response—the simple, unfiltered pleasure that spilled from him with each subtle movement.

“Yeah? You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you?” he managed to say, but the teasing lilt in his tone faded momentarily, replaced by something deeper, more primal, as your mouth continued its exploration.

You smiled at his playful remark, and a renewed sense of purpose flooded through you. Grasping his hair a bit firmer now, you enjoyed the rush of power that came with every gentle pull. “Oh, I plan to keep surprising you,” you replied softly, as you drove your kisses down his neck, your heart racing in tandem with your fervent resolve to fully indulge in this connection.

With every kiss you gave, every gentle tug of his hair, Sam seemed to melt against you further, his heartbeat echoing in rhythm with the passion that was building up. You were crossing uncharted lines together, marking new territory in ways that felt thrilling and transformative, building the kind of intimacy that had previously only existed in dreams.

As you continued to explore each other, with every whisper of your lips against his skin, the world around you fell away, leaving just the intoxicating connection that was growing stronger with each breath. The cabin held the warmth of the fire, but it was the heat radiating from both of you—two rivals turned partners in this daring venture—igniting every intimate corner of your hearts, urging you both to delve even deeper into the possibilities that lay before you. Time stretched, boundless and inviting, as the night unfolded like a beautiful promise, a secret waiting to be uncovered, moment by moment, touch by touch.

With your bold moves seeming to ignite something primal within Sam, the atmosphere in the cabin shifted as the balance of power began to tilt. The playful tension gave way to an intensified connection, one that radiated from him in waves of warmth and desire. You’d drawn him in, and now you could feel a new determination simmering beneath his teasing smirks—one that left your pulse racing in anticipation.

With a low chuckle, he leaned back slightly, assessing the moment with an intensity that sent a thrill straight to your core. “Alright, I think it’s my turn to take charge,” he declared, his voice a deep rumble that stirred excitement inside you.

Before you had a chance to respond, he gently but firmly guided you onto your back, your body sinking into the softness of the cabin floor. The chill in the air was juxtaposed against the fiery heat radiating between you, and your heart skipped a beat as he settled between your legs, the intensity of his gaze unwavering, filled with desire and a fierce protectiveness that made your breath catch.

He started at your neck, pressing gentle kisses along the collarbone, savoring the way your skin warmed beneath his lips. Each careful kiss felt like a promise, a quiet reverie shared between you both as he began to snake his way down, taking his time to explore and tease you, as hands slipped carefully under your back to keep you close.

Sam’s lips traveled slowly from the tender spot at the base of your neck, kissing his way down your torso. As his mouth glided over your skin, you could feel every pulse of heat, your core tightening with each soft caress. The way he nurtured each kiss felt almost reverential, as if he was worshipping you in this moment, drawing out every ounce of pleasure with a tenderness that enveloped you like a warm embrace.

The anticipation held you captive, and it wasn’t long before Sam reached the delicate curvature of your waist, where his mouth paused for just a heartbeat—the briefest moment suspended in time. His gaze flickered up to yours, silently asking for reassurance, wanting to ensure that you were still comfortable, still willing to delve deeper into this newfound intimacy.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, you nodded, a breathless affirmation as your heart raced in response. “I’m okay,” you whispered, encouraging him with the sincerity of your voice, urging him to continue. In that split second, it felt as if everything spiraled down to a singular truth: you wanted him, wanted this, with every fiber of your being.

With a soft, satisfied smile, he resumed his exploration, nuzzling further down your body with an eager intensity. His kisses trailed lower and lower, the warmth of his mouth leaving sparks of electric sensation lingering in their wake. When his lips finally brushed against the soft fabric of your pants, he pressed a delicate kiss just above the waistband, sending shivers cascading through your body.

And then, with a smooth, deliberate motion, he peeled away the final barriers that separated you. The sudden cool air was a stark contrast to the heat of his mouth, and your breath quickened in response, anticipation coiling tightly within you.

His mouth found you directly, kissing you softly at first, taking his time to taste and explore, as his tongue flicked teasingly against your skin. You gasped at the sensation, fingers instinctively tangling in his hair, urging him closer as waves of pleasure began to swell from that tantalizing point of contact.

“Oh God, Sam,” you breathed, a mixture of urgency and delight threading through your voice as he responded to the sound of your pleasure. Every lick, every gentle pull made you arch your back, drawing him further in, completely lost in the heady grip of sensation. The pressure built steadily, fueled by the way you could feel him sinking deeper into his own rhythm.

He continued to focus on drawing out your pleasure, his mouth nipping and teasing, savoring the gasps he elicited from you as he explored every sensitive spot. You could feel the tension gathering, pleasure building, and it was as if the world outside melted away into oblivion—only the two of you existed in that electric moment.

Your hands entwined in his hair naturally, holding him against you, anchoring yourself to the sweet warmth of him while urging him forward. “Please, don’t stop,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper, craving more of the deliberate attention he was giving you.

He responded in kind, a deep, reverberating hum vibrating through him, igniting the connection that spurred you both on. With fervor, he increased the pace, every lick and swirl of his tongue working magic on you until you felt as if you were teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

The sensations intermingled, a symphony of throbbing bliss that enveloped your senses as Sam devoted himself fully to your pleasure. The world outside faded, leaving only the intoxicating dance of skin on skin, breath against body, heartbeats synchronized in wild rhythm.

You were lost in it, surrendered to the rawness of the moment—a voyage of exploration that had traversed from rival banter to heartfelt intimacy, heat pooling low in your belly until it felt like an insatiable fire begging to be fanned to life. Sam’s skillful ministrations sent you spiraling into a realm beyond your previous understanding, glinting with the promise of everything yet to come.

It was no longer play; it was raw connection, an embrace of everything you had both been craving, a freedom that bound you together amidst the intimate boundaries of your desires.

“Sam!” Your voice broke through, filled with urgency, pleading for more as you felt that powerful tide rise inexorably. And through it all, you could sense his unwavering commitment to this moment, to you, as he continued to explore and elicit every ache of desire, drawing you ever closer to that blissful release…

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, fragile bursts of ecstasy rippling through every nerve ending, you felt Sam’s dedication fueling the fire simmering low in your belly. Every touch, his mouth working its magic, grounded you in the moment—a shared intimacy that felt both intoxicating and serene. But just as you felt on the cusp of something profound, Sam pulled back slightly, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

Panting softly, his eyes focused intently on yours, he searched for something deeper, a silent assurance that you were ready for the next step. “Are you sure?” he murmured, voice low and filled with an earnestness that sent a warm flutter through your heart. It was a question that held both weight and tenderness, a simple inquiry layered with unspoken vulnerability and respect for the space between you.

You nodded, your breath catching as you gazed back at him, filled with a deeper understanding of the path before you. “I’m sure, Sam. I want this,” you assured him, your voice a soft whisper layered with sincerity. The connection felt electric, your bodies nearly humming with the energy coursing between you, ready to bridge the gap that held you apart.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, relief washing over him, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your forehead, then trailing sweetly down to your lips. As his mouth brushed against yours, it was tender—each touch a promise, each kiss a testament to the journey that had led you both here. You could feel his warmth radiating, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety and affection.

With deliberate care, Sam’s hands moved to your waist, fingers splaying against your skin as he pulled you closer. His touch was gentle, exploring the contours of your body as he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes remaining locked on yours—an unspoken conversation that held the promise of newfound intimacy. The world around you faded further, leaving only the soft rhythm of your breaths mingling in the air, hearts racing in unison.

Taking a deep breath, he allowed a moment of stillness to envelop you both. You could feel the anticipation humming in the air, spreading electric warmth between your bodies. And then, slowly, carefully, he began to push himself into you, maintaining that softness that pulsed with tender intensity.

The sensation was overwhelming, the culmination of all those playful encounters turning into something deep and meaningful as he entered you. It felt as though time slowed, allowing you to savor every moment—a symphony of sensation that resonated within the very depths of your being. He paused, allowing you to adjust, the gentleness of his movements a beautiful contrast to the boundless desire that simmered between you.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he murmured, concern woven through his words, and you nodded slightly, finding comfort in the gentle strength he embodied. “Just like this…we’ll go slow,” he added, his voice a soothing balm infused with warmth.

You felt the tension in your body ease as he held the gentle pace, inching deeper while his lips found their way back to yours, kissing you softly as if to ground you in that moment. Sam’s hands roamed tenderly over your skin, caressing your arms, your sides, igniting tingling sensations that lingered long after he had touched you.

Each movement was deliberate, filled with a sweet tenderness that held you close, mirrored by the soft kisses that fell like whispers upon your skin. You felt cherished, respected, and deeply connected, the world shrinking around you until it was just the two of you, enveloped in your private sanctuary forged from trust and growing intimacy.

The soft kisses traveled from your lips to your cheeks, trailing down to your neck, each lingering touch a reminder of his presence. He took his time, savoring the sensation of you beneath him, exploring just how your body responded to his movements, learning the rhythm that matched your needs.

And as he finally settled fully into you, you felt a rush of warmth and satisfaction unfurl deep within, every nerve alive and tingling with the beautiful connection forming between you. It was everything you had anticipated and more—fiery passion tempered by a tenderness that soothed and ignited.

You could feel the world beyond fading completely, leaving just the two of you, intertwined in a dance that felt both sacred and exhilarating. Your bodies aligned in a rhythm as he gently rocked into you, each movement eliciting soft gasps mingled with breaths of pleasure.

“Just like this…” he murmured again, his voice a tantalizing mix of longing and affection, as if he were echoing your own thoughts. With each push, his hands held you in a loving embrace, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, illumination of everything you were sharing. You reveled in the sensations, surrendering to the intimacy that flowed between you, feeling utterly safe in this moment.

The kisses continued, soft and lingering, as though he were mapping out each reaction your body made, the connection solidifying with every gentle caress. Time slipped away, giving room for the connection to deepen until it was an unspoken promise—one of exploration and understanding, a willingness to cherish this unfolding chapter you were writing together.

In this sacred space, with breathless whispers and shared laughter, vulnerability transformed into strength, radiating love as deep as the universe, bonding you both in a way that felt destined. It was a beginning—a cherry blossom in full bloom—one that promised endless possibilities beyond the warmth of this moment. And together, you knew you were ready to embrace every beautiful second of it.

As the rhythm of your bodies settled into a beautiful cadence, you felt your breath hitch slightly, the sensations coursing through you becoming a melody of pleasure. Leaning your head back against the soft pillow, you surrendered fully to the moment, yielding to the warmth that enveloped you both. The world beyond faded further into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe—a sanctuary built from trust, vulnerability, and an undeniable magnetic pull.

Sam seized the opportunity, his lips tracing a delicate path along your neck, planting soft kisses that ignited fresh waves of sensation. Each kiss was a gentle reminder of his presence, exploring the sensitive skin beneath your chin, trailing to the delicate slope of your collarbone. His mouth was warm and inviting, and the tenderness resonated within you, deepening the connection you had both crafted so instinctively.

“God, you’re incredible,” he breathed against your skin, and with that simple phrase, you felt an electrifying rush wash over you, his admiration enveloping you like a comforting embrace. It was a moment suspended in time, where every feeling intertwined, stitching together moments of passion and profound care.

The kisses continued, soft and sweet, every touch deliberate as he relished in the intimacy of your shared experience. You could feel the waves of pleasure ebb and flow with every gentle thrust, but it was those lingering kisses—each one a testament to the depth of your connection—that truly made your heart swell. The combination of sensation and the affection in his eyes tethered you to this very moment, keeping you grounded in the magic of what was happening.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, filled with the unyielding need to keep this moment intact, as if time itself could rewrite infinity. And Sam answered with a soft smile, one that illuminated his features and settled warmth in your chest.

As the intensity built to a gentle crescendo, savoring every second, you reached your peak together, a mutual sigh escaping your lips, echoing the shared bliss that enveloped you both. It was breathtaking, intimate, a crescendo that wrapped around you like the softest of blankets, leaving you trembling in its wake.

Gradually, as the waves of pleasure receded, so too did the intensity. Sam slowed to a gentle rhythm, drawing out the last shimmers of ecstasy, until finally, he brought himself to a stillness. You both remained intertwined, the air thick with unspoken words, breaths mingling as you came down together from the heights, embracing the softness of the moment.

With a tender smile, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, securing you against his chest. The warmth and solidity of him felt like home, a refuge where you could truly let go and rest. You nestled into him, finding solace in the steady beat of his heart, a comforting counterpoint to the lingering bursts of sensation that still fluttered throughout your body.

“Perfect,” you sighed contentedly, feeling completely safe in his embrace, your head resting just beneath his chin. It was the kind of contentment that wrapped around your heart, lingering like the afterglow of candlelight, flickering yet steady, filling the room with an undeniable warmth.

Sam tightened his hold, finding a rhythm in your shared breathing. The world outside faded completely now, leaving only the soft sounds of your breaths and the quiet rustle of fabric as you settled in even closer. He placed a gentle kiss atop your head, a sweet gesture that spoke volumes—an assurance that this moment, this connection, held an irreplaceable significance.

In that comforting silence, you felt threads of possibility weaving between you, spawning dreams of what else might lie ahead. But for now, nestled against him, you were content to simply be—two hearts beating as one in the tranquil refuge you had created.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the warmth and safety of Sam’s presence, surrendering to the bliss of the moment. With the weight of the world dissipating into nothing, you drifted into a soft slumber, cocooned in the love that surrounded you both, knowing that you had stepped into something beautiful and transformative together. And as you did, the last echoes of intimacy lingered in the tender warmth of his arms, a promise of many more moments to come.

[basu-shokikita]

Skwisgaar Skwigelf can f🎸ck with your head

Inspired by @mirrorshards's suggestion to make a certain video I showed her about Skwisgaar and Toki, I’m posting this silly drabble I wrote. Original will be linked after the drabble ‘cause I don’t wanna spoil.

Thank you @triplefaggot for the screenshot edit 😚

Have some Scandinavian shenanigans!

“Stops, just stops.” Skwisgaar said without any emotion in his voice. “Comes here.”

Toki swallowed heavily, releasing the grip on his guitar. With insecure steps, he walked out of the booth, where Skwisgaar was waiting for him on the couch. As well as the rest of the band…and Knubbler.

They were in the middle of recording a new album and this week, especially, was dedicated to the rhythms section. After watching Murderface get chewed out for not learning his parts, Toki had spent the whole night practicing in panic. At the very least he couldn’t afford to be as pathetic as Murderface, who most of the time didn’t even know where the chords were. 

He had to do better.

Problem is, he had no idea if his efforts had given any fruit as Skwisgaar’s expression was more inscrutable than the guitar resting on his lap. Nathan and Pickles had adopted a completely laissez-faire attitude. As far as they were concerned, Toki was Skwisgaar’s responsibility and they didn’t want anything to do with it. Knubbler looked almost bored, his face resting on his hand, awaiting for Skwisgaar’s verdict. 

With deliberate slowness, Skwisgaar folded his hands in front of his face, as in deep thought. His eyes bore into Toki’s and it felt like they were piercing his soul. He would’ve felt naked standing there for Skwisgaar to watch, if it wasn’t for his guitar shielding him.

“You says you prackstickeds last nites, ja?”

“J-Ja.”

A few seconds of silence.

“Amazings.” Skwisgaar mumbled and Toki wasn’t sure he had heard him right, though he didn’t dare to ask him to repeat. 

Weakly, he cleared his throat. “Um…?”

“Toki,” Skwisgaar put his hands down. “I has a massive problemks with yous playingks today.”

Feeling like someone had thrown a rock down his stomach, Toki looked down and braced himself.

“And its dat I wish you playeds like dis before.” 

Toki raised his eyes, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “Skwisgaar!”

“Because if you hads,” Skwisgaar continued. “Dens I would knows yous playingks ams gonna be mines cause of deaths.”

“Oh…” Toki lowered his eyes again. “Sorries…”

“And by cause of deaths, ams talkingks abouts Obituaries’ Cause of Deaths.” Skwisgaar said. 

Obituary, the band? Like, the ones that made the classic death metal album Cause of Death? Was Skwisgaar praising him?!

Toki couldn’t help the excitement drumming in his chest, that Skwisgaar had compared his playing to such a quintessential part of death metal history. “Thank y-”

“You knows how the bassists’ cause of death was cancers?!” Skwisgaar interrupted him.

Okay, now he really was lost. “Skwisgaar,” He scratched his head in confusion. “I don’ts knows if you ams insultingks me or nots.”

“Oh you don’ts?” Skwisgaar stood up, seemingly infuriated. “Okej, den lets puts it simples and easies: packs your shits, dildos, yous off de bands!”

“Whats?!” Toki squeaked, feeling a rush of blood to his head.

“Whoa!” Nathan was just as shocked.

“Skwisgaar, th’ts a bit too much…” Pickles tried to calm him down.

Skwisgaar ignored his bandmates and kept talking. “Because you shoulds be playingks in de best bands in de worlds!” He opened his arms effusively.

Although still recovering from the previous shock, the words moved Toki. “Oh, Skwisgaars, dat ams…”

“Aren’t we the bescht band in the world?” Murderface intervened.

“Quiet, Willy.” Knubbler silenced him.

“Just nots any worlds dat ams in.” Skwisgaar crossed his arms, staring down at Toki. 

“Am really confused here, dood.”

“Yeah, me too.”

It was comforting in a way for Toki to know the others were just as puzzled as him, but he was still on the receiving end of the lecture. “Alls do betters…” He muttered with closed eyes.

“Because, honestlies, Tokes, ams jealous of you.” Skwisgaar said.

Toki’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “You ams?!”

“And yours totals refusals to cares abouts yous playingks.” He took a step closer towards Toki. “Dis ams not fits for humans ears, noes, dis shoulds be listeneds by gods what has mores sophistikateds ears and infinites kindness to save humans from playingks likes dis!”

Toki was barely registering the words anymore, his head was spinning, he felt dizzy, like he was caught somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. Well, maybe it was the fact that he stayed overnight practicing so he had had little rest. Maybe he had fallen asleep mid practicing and this was nothing but an illusion? Maybe he never left his bed this morning? Maybe this wasn’t happening?

“If you dieds now, dens you wouldnts has to lives a lives whats you never does betters dan todays.” Skwisgaar said, though none of those words made any goddamn sense.

“T-Thanks you, Skwisgaar…” Toki managed to stutter before collapsing on the floor.

The rest of the band watched his unconscious body as a less than impressed Knubbler went to get the Klokateers. Their faces denoted something between slight concern and total indifference.

“Well, you knocked the kid out, Skwisgaar.” Pickles finally spoke. “Ya happy now?”

“Uh, he looks dead.” Nathan commented with a grimace.

“He ams gonna be fines.” Skwisgaar waved a dismissive hand before letting his weight flop back on the couch.

“I’m gonna draw dicksch on hisch fasche.” Murderface announced, producing a sharpie out of his pockets.

“Will ya stop thinkin’ about dicks for a second?” Pickles gestured at Nathan to help him get Toki off the floor. 

“What? He totally did the schame thing to me lascht time I pasched out!”

“That was different.” Nathan argued. “You deserved it.”

“What?!”

“Whet were ya tryin’ to tell him, anyway?” Pickles stared at Skwisgaar in exasperation.

Skwisgaar, who had started fretting from boredom, stopped. “I thoughts it ams was obviousk.”

Pickles and Nathan gave each other glances before looking back at Skwisgaar. “No?” They said in unison.

Skwisgaar shrugged, fingers back on the strings. “It was just okejs.”

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

If you recognized the skit this is from, bless your heart, and if not, here you go:

Congratulations, now you understand my elaborated shitpost

[rallamajoop]

The Baker Incident Report and the Resident Evil 7 Guidebook

While I’m talking obscure sources of RE7 lore, there's a couple more I’ve been poking through lately: the Baker Incident Report file (only available with the RE8 Trauma Pack DLC), and the BIOHAZARD 7 resident evil kaitaishinsho or RE7 guidebook (only available in Japanese, though some translations have made their way online).

I’m not the biggest fan of these kinds of ‘canon’ – fans shouldn’t have to go pouring through pages of DLC-exclusive-text-dumps or untranslated supplements to find out WTF was supposed to be going on – and both of these have other problems I’ll get into below. All that said, here's some of the more interesting new info they give us.

From the BIR, the Winters were moved to ‘Eastern Europe’, as witness protection from the Connections. That's still frustratingly unspecific, but more than we’re ever explicitly told in the game.

The lab that created Eveline is in Munich, Germany, per the BIR. This one does add up: close enough to Eastern Europe for Miranda to be involved, but not so close that it would necessarily ring alarm bells for Mia when the BSAA wanted to move them right to Miranda’s doorstep. Mia’s obviously been to the Munich lab, but presumably didn’t know exactly where the mould comes from (something redacted out even in their own reports). The guidebook also places the lab in Europe, but doesn't give a city. The BIR adds that the Connections are active in Eastern Europe, and we know they have facilities in Central America. Presumably there are offices in Texas too ‒ Mia can't be commuting cross continents to get to work every day.

Eveline was shipped to Central America due to an attempted raid by the BSAA, which is far more we learn from the "Orders" file from the game. The BIR goes so far as to imply that this botched operation was indirectly responsible for the whole Baker Incident, with Chris and his team leaving due to their frustration with the BSAA's attempts to cover the incident up. The guidebook, however, tells us Chris Redfield was actually the guy leading the team behind the failed raid. I assume we’re meant to take it that the mission failed because of an info leak, but I’m still amused by just how ineffectual this franchise keeps making Chris out to be.

Post RE7, Zoe is working as a reporter for a small paper in New Orleans. We don't know if she too went through witness protection but her name was listed among the dead at the Baker mansion.

Ethan is called a systems engineer in both the guide book and the BIR (this one does seem to have been spread around fandom more widely).

Eveline was created in the early 2000s, according to the guidebook. This one really doesn't add up for me: if the project started in 2000 and had already advanced through the A-E series by the early 2000s, why did it stagnate there for the next 10 years without further progress? Did Miranda leaving the project set it back so far? They can't have been waiting for Eveline to grow up, she can age 25x faster than usual, and is being deliberately maintained at the age of a 10yo girl. IDEK, I'd be inclined to ignore this one.

The guidebook states that Mia told people she worked for a "trading company," and was often away from home for work, something which had already strained the Winters’ marriage. I'd guess she told people she spent a lot of time accompanying shipments of goods when she was really smuggling materials or taking part in covert operations for the Connections.

The guidebook gives 2010 as the year she started working for the Connections (a year before her marriage to Ethan in 2011, though it doesn’t mention when they met, which may well have been 2010 or earlier). Mind you, this is also the one bit that randomly calls her "a researcher", so take it as you will (more on this below).

Of Mia's involvement with the project that created Eveline, it says only that the Connections' Special Agents Alan and Mia were assigned to transport Eveline to America. No real indication Mia was ever involved before then.

Of Mia's relationship to Eveline, it says that Mia "found Eveline creepy, but felt sympathy for her lonely situation." You and the rest of us, Mia.

Eveline forced Mia to lure Ethan to the Bakers' property in hope that adding Ethan to their family would make Mia more compliant, according to the guidebook. Eveline was especially fixated on Mia, having known her longer than the Bakers, and was frustrated with Mia's continued resistance to her control. Mia seems to have tried to keep Ethan's existence secret from Eveline to protect him, but somehow let it slip. All this is already implied in-game, of course, but it's nice to have it spelt out.

The Bakers feed people infected food because “oral and mucosal infections” are supposedly better for mould-powered mind-control. Ethan is obviously already infected AF well before their attempts to feed him 'dinner' (there's no way his severed hand would be usable otherwise), but IDK, maybe ingesting some extra mould would have made it easier for Eveline to control him? I'm sure a 10yo girl and a family of hillbillies do not have this down to an exact science, and I wouldn't even be surprised if feeding people mould was counter-productive somehow, given their success rate.

So why did none of those infected prisoners join Eveline's "family" alongside the Bakers? The guide book tells us simply that all were "deemed unfit" as family members, and were thus killed, and converted into molded instead.

We get official names for all the molded types we meet in the game (Moulded, Blade Moulded, Quick Moulded and Fat Moulded – pretty self-explanatory).

As a side-note, Ethan himself gets referred to as a ‘molded’ around this fandom a lot, which really isn’t correct. Ethan’s infected by the mold in the same manner as the Baker family, whereas ‘molded’ is a term coined to describe what amounts to mutamycete zombies (see above): the unintelligent, inhuman monsters that made up the generic enemy types of RE7, whose whole bodies are simply “superorganisms formed of countless mycelia.”

The guide book also implies that Jack’s final, mutated form reflects that he’s starting to become a moulded himself, which is a very interesting little detail.

Notes attached to concept art suggest that most moulded are created from dead bodies, covered by mould in bathtubs to convert them. Eveline is also seen spontaneously converting people to shapeless mould though, and clearly converted much of the ship’s crew into moulded-creatures in a very short time after her escape. It’s not super-consistent, but it is all horror-logic at its best (read: the rules are whatever will make this scene scarier).

There’s a bunch of additional stuff in the BIR naming the Connections’ founder as Brandon Bailey, someone who naturally has ties to Umbrella, blah, blah, blah ‒ I’m sure it all means more to fans of some of the older games. I can't pretend to have much interest in this part myself.

So with all that interesting info, what's my big problem with these sources? Well, for one thing, you don’t have to look far into the guidebook to find info that contradicts what we already know – and sometimes even itself. One page clearly describes Mia as a special agent working for the Connections ‒ a description that matches the wording used in the Orders document, and everything we see Mia doing in the game. But then another page randomly tells us Mia was hired as "a researcher" ‒ a description that matches nothing else we know about her (though it's an irritatingly common misconception, and this book may be the reason why). No-one's checking any of this stuff for consistency.

The guidebook also features such other gems as telling us Ethan currently lives and works in Los Angeles, when both Mia’s driver’s license and all geographical logic tell us they’re from Texas. Then there's that weird bit about Eveline being created in the early 2000s... and realistically, I can only assume a lot of what made it into the book may have come from earlier concept notes that were never updated as the story developed ‒ and if you read anything else on the production of this game, you'd know that concepts changed massively as development went on.

But more frustrating is everything the book doesn’t tell us. There isn’t a word said about the oh-so-mysterious "imprinting protocol" that Mia references in the game. How does it work? Is it, as the ending text spiel seems to imply, merely something that can be implemented in a hurry when Eveline needs to be transported across the globe? Can she be imprinted on more than one person at once? Has she ever been imprinted on anyone else? That seems likely, given that the lab’s in Munich while Mia lives in Texas (and if she's really been around since the early 2000s and Mia joined the company only in 2010, she logically must have been), but we don’t find out. Does Eveline get similarly obsessed with everyone she’s imprinted on, or is Mia special? Not a clue.

Since the guidebook was released in March 2017, long before the Not a Hero and End of Zoe DLCs, neither expansion is mentioned in the text. And since we don’t even learn the name ‘The Connections’ until the Not A Hero DLC, the group that created Eveline is referred to simply as the “mysterious organisation” (with quotes) whenever it comes up.

Nothing is said in the guidebook about the new incarnation of Umbrella which was so prominently involved at the end of RE7 either. Possibly, this too was to avoid spoilers for Not A Hero, which does at least give us some info on them – but then, the Baker Incident Report doesn’t mention the new Umbrella at all either, and it doesn’t have that excuse. That omission is all the stranger, considering that Zoe’s whole purpose in writing it is supposedly to expose the cover-up after the Baker Incident – doesn’t Umbrella factor into that at all? It’s like their whole role in RE7 has just wiped clean.

It's also obvious there was so much more lore written for this game that the guide book doesn’t share. Early versions of collectable documents that can still be found in the game files give the D-series head and arm some fascinating backstory, but there’s nothing about them in the guide book, which is a real shame.

Mia especially stands out as a character who must have so much backstory we never hear anything about. How did she get involved with a company as evil as the Connections? How did she justify it to herself for so long – what excuses did she make to herself? Did she genuinely believe they were finding ways to win wars without losing soldiers? Was she gathering evidence against them, was she scared they’d kill her if she left? Not one single word in either the guidebook or the BIR to explain.

Even more annoying to me, though, is just what a wasted opportunity the Baker Incident Report is to add more to Zoe’s story, when she’s one of my favourite RE characters. Included in the text is a letter she received from Mia, giving what should have been the perfect opportunity to flesh out the relationship Zoe and Mia must have built in the three years they spent trapped in the Baker property, the only two (semi-)sane people present – and what does the letter do? Imply they hardly knew each other at all. It’s the most boring possible answer, it contradicts hints from the actual game (Marguerite outright tells us they've been working together, even!), and GDI, you do not get to tell me that my girls didn’t know each other! ;_;

Ethan and Mia similarly get the short shrift. Throughout RE7 their every interaction is building to a big scene that never actually happens where Ethan finds out the truth – Ethan knows Mia’s been keeping secrets, he never stops asking questions about it, and Mia says outright that she wants to come clean. So what does the BIR tell us? Well, post RE7, Mia mentions in an interview that she doesn’t want anyone telling Ethan. Not a word about what changed her mind. Not a word about why Ethan would just stop asking. Total cop-out.

And there’s so much more it could have covered too. There's nothing about Ethan’s ‘military training’. Nothing about the Winters' relationship with Chris. Mia’s conversation with him in RE8 suggests he was personally involved in relocating them to Eastern Europe, but the BIR doesn’t mention that either. The BIR at large is basically just an extended lore dump, and it doesn’t even sound like Zoe’s voice.

So this is about where I finish up with both of these sources: frustrating, inaccessible, inconsistent, and more missed opportunities than real material. There’s a lot in both I’ll happily go on ignoring. But I’ll still pour through them for every last interesting detail, because I am that obsessed with this canon right now, and they’re what we’ve got.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

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.”

[jusst-you-race]

12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” Sebmark

even more sebmark!!!! have some soft coffeeshop au sebmark lovely anon <3 prompt list

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Mark yet again lets his gaze slide over to Seb while he makes the next coffee. It’s a terrible habit he has, and he’s been telling himself he’ll stop for months now, but he’s never actually put much effort into not watching Seb. It’s not like he’s even doing anything worth watching, he's just… studying. Like he always is. 

The coffee machine makes a screaming sound and Mark startles, quickly turning back to his task and trying to recuse the milk he’s in the middle of frothing. Fernando swears at him. Mark ignores him. 

Mark still isn’t entirely sure why Seb decided to choose their cafe as his study spot, considering he doesn’t even really drink coffee. But the only response he ever gets when he asks is a half shrug and a cheeky little smile that makes Mark feel all sorts of things.

He sighs as he pours milk into the espresso shot, creating a nice little pattern across the top solely through muscle memory. It comes out a little wonky, but it’s far from his worst. Grabbing a muffin out of the cabinet, Mark strides across the shop to deliver the order to one of the tables. He gets a mumbled ‘thanks’ for his troubles, and then has an internal debate with himself about the route he should take back to the counter.

It’s halfhearted, because he knows what the outcome will be before he starts it. 

He makes his way to Seb’s table. Seb doesn’t look up from where he’s staring intently at his laptop. 

“How’s it going?”

Seb looks up, frown disappearing and instead replaced with an amused little smile. 

“Well, these readings are slowly driving me up the wall, but I’m managing.” He runs a hand through his curls and Mark tries very hard not to watch. His own fingers itch anyway. He clears his throat.

“Do you want a refill?” He asks, stiltedly. 

Seb’s smile turns fond, and Mark feels something warm and pleased curling in his gut. It doesn’t last long though as Seb’s eyes flick down to the watch on his wrist. He grimaces apologetically. 

“Actually, Mark, I need to get going.” Seb immediately starts packing up his things and Mark refuses to feel disappointed. He’s about to leave him to it when he notices goosebumps on Seb’s arm. There’s no jacket he can see either as Seb collects his things, and Mark makes a split second decision.

“Wait one second,” he says before turning around and half jogging behind the counter. He quickly grabs his jacket, glaring at Fernando who aggressively rolls his eyes, and makes his way back across the cafe. Seb has finished packing up now, and is watching him with that same amused smile as Mark approaches him again. He thrusts the jacket out in front of him.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Seb giggles.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not taking your jacket.” 

Mark frowns, then shakes the jacket at him.

“Just bring it back next time. Don’t make me hold you down and force it on you.” Mark realises what he’s just said when Seb’s cheeks go bright red, but before he can take it back, Seb snatches the jacket out of his hands. 

“Fine,” he says, pulling it on. “I’ll take your stupid jacket.” The blush on his cheeks grows once the jacket is on and they both realise the sleeves almost cover Seb’s fingers. 

Mark is helplessly, hopelessly endeared. He reaches out on instinct to fix the collar that’s half tucked in and Seb startles, looking up at him with wide eyes. Slowly, deliberately, Mark moves his hands towards Seb, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. Gently, Mark flips the collar out. He can’t help but linger, smoothing his hand down the front of Seb’s chest for just a second. 

He goes to pull his hand back, but Seb snatches his wrist before he can. Mark freezes, waiting, and for a moment they just stare at each other. 

Eventually, quick as a flash, Seb springs up onto his toes and kisses Mark on the cheek. Mark is left standing there, blinking, stunned, as Seb sweeps out the door without looking back. 

From behind the counter Fernando bursts into laughter.

[catboymoments]

i know you’re an aweirdlatina dickrider but did you know she’s deliberately ignoring everything going on with Palestine? not even a tweet or anything?

First off calling me a “dickrider” for not agreeing that drawing canon adult fictional characters in nsfw situations is problematic and liking someone’s art style is really rude and dismissive, I don’t like or agree with everything she says or does or posts. We’re not friends and I’m capable of putting up degrees of separation and not being parasocial. She’s an artist on the internet. Second of all, yeah. That’s disappointing. I expected better from her. I’ve been waiting to see if she’ll use her huge platform on twt to say ANYTHING about it, especially considering the fact that she apparently does care about social issues (regarding tweets about femicide and forest fires in Columbia in her likes) but she’s deciding to remain quiet. I really hope that she decides to use her following for good, and it’s kind of making me see her differently. However, I think you should reevaluate your own responses to this situation if you’re more concerned about an artist you dislike and how you can use the genocide to stir up online discourse rather than putting that effort into posting about ways you can help the Palestinians and bring awareness to the fucked up shit the IDF is continuing to do.

On that note- the international hearing of South Africa charging Israel with genocide is this weekend. Make sure to keep up with the news sources covering the trial and validate your sources.