#just with part four stuff alone like I have so much planned for that one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

verstappen-cult · 3 months ago

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STUPID CUPID, M. VERSTAPPEN

CHAPTER 01: OF ALCOHOL AND BAD DECISIONS

✶ SUMMARY. Making decisions when you’ve had too much to drink is the worst thing someone can do, but it’s exactly what Lando does. He has 100€, a plan and a friend in need of a new camera. What could possibly go wrong?

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. oscar being an overprotective brother. alcohol consumption. i don’t specify what they’re studying, just that they’re in the same university & some of them share classes. use of Y/N. attempted humor. attempted banter. a little bit of landoscar.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST.

“Remember to keep your things close to you at all times. Do you still have the pepper spray I gave you last summer?” Your brother talks as he walks by your side. He woke you up this morning to have a last walk around campus, so you won’t get lost Monday morning on your first day. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before adding, “I’m always gonna be around but you need to—”

“Oscar,” You place a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. “I’m ten minutes younger than you, and I’ve been traveling around Europe alone for the last four months. I think I can handle myself.”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“If I survived High School, I think I can survive anything.”

He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders to resume walking. “I can’t believe you finally decided to join me here. This past year has been awful without you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You chuckle, wrapping your own arm around his waist. “I just needed some time away to clear my head,” You shrug, a hesitant smile gracing your lips. There’s so much inside your head, so much you want to say to him, but you’re not brave enough to say it out loud. You’ve never been. “And I know our parents wanted us to go to the same university since, like, forever. I couldn’t disappoint them.” Not again.

You’re passing outside the Ice Rink when you run into one of Oscar’s friends.

“Hey!” One guy, whose name you can’t remember, approaches you both. He’s wearing his hockey uniform, sport bag hanging over his shoulder and a hockey stick in his left hand. “We missed you at practice today, mate. Hey, Y/N.”

His smile is so contagious, you feel bad for not remembering his name. You turn to look at your brother and just one exchange of glances is enough for him to understand.

“Hey, Alex.” He pulls away from you to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I just wanted to show my sister some places.”

“Oh yeah! You start on Monday, right?” You don’t even have time to open your mouth before he’s speaking again. “Are you nervous?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod one time. “A little,” It’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about since you moved in with your brother a few days ago. There is so much you still need to do, the rest of your clothes aren’t even here yet, but you are more worried about finally starting your uni life than anything else. “but I prefer not to think about it.”

“I keep telling her she has nothing to worry about.” The smile on your brother’s face is the same one you saw six months ago before he left for his second year at University and you left for your trip, the ‘i’m so proud of you’ kind of smile. “She’s sharing classes with Charles, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna be in good hands.” Alex says it with a laugh, that only earns him a hit on the head from your brother. “Anyway, we have that party tonight at Lando’s. Are you coming?”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up in a blush. “No, we can’t. Maybe another time.”

“You can,” You interrupt him. It is the second time he turns down an invitation just to stay with you. “I need to finish organizing the last of my stuff. Boring stuff. You should definitely go, it’s Saturday, Osc.”

“Yeah but—”

“He’ll be there.” Alex tries to hide his laugh but doesn’t do a good job.

“I’m pretty sure someone’s gonna be very happy.”

“Goodbye, Alex!”

Oscar grabs your arm, giving you barely enough time to turn around and wave a goodbye to his friend before he drags you away.

“What was he talking about?”

“Don’t know,” He simply answers, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “What do you say we grab some lunch?”

The party’s in full swing when Oscar walks through the door of his friend’s apartment.

It is definitely a party organized by Lando; too many people in a cramped space, his DJ friend in a corner of the living room and everyone making out with everyone. Just the kind of party only Lando likes.

Oscar makes his way into the kitchen, needing some liquid courage.

“You came!” Alex shows up out of nowhere, he notices his friend is holding a beer in his left hand as he wraps his arm around his shoulders. Oscar doesn’t know how much he’s had to drink, but he smells too much like alcohol for his liking.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, full of different kinds of alcohol and chips, is Charles and his girlfriend.

“Hey,” Charles raises his own beer as a greeting. “Where’s your sister?”

“Don’t tell me you left her alone in your apartment.” Charles’ girlfriend frowns, throwing daggers at him.

Oscar throws his hands up in surrender. “She didn’t want to come. I insisted but she still has things to organize.”

“You should give her my number,” Alex, Charles’ girlfriend says with a smile, snuggling closer to his boyfriend. “I’m sure we’re gonna get along.”

Oscar opens his mouth to actually ask for her number when the thunderous voice of none other than Lando Norris interrupts him.

“Oscar! You came!” Lando hugs him from behind, spilling some of his drink on the floor. But he doesn’t even notice, he’s more focused on finding his cheek to kiss.

“Hey, Lando.” Oscar blushes. Blushes hard. He’s glad the dim lighting can hide how Lando makes him feel. “Good party.”

Lando smiles, sliding next to him and bumping shoulders. “Glad you like it.” Oscar finds himself returning the smile.

“Please stop flirting in front of me or I’m gonna throw up in your faces.” Alex rolls his eyes and Lando hits him in the chest.

Oscar finds it cute the way Lando’s cheeks heat up at the joke. He downs the last of his drink and Oscar has to fight the urge to wipe a drop of liquor from his bottom lip.

He hasn’t even had a drink. What’s wrong with him?

He’s thankful when Charles hands him a beer, so he has something else to do rather than stand there like an idiot ogling at Lando and wondering what his lips would taste like.

One minute they’re all hanging out in the kitchen, drinking and talking about the next hockey game — the boys threatening him if he misses another practice — and the next one he’s sitting on the couch with Lando glued to his side, one of his legs over his lap.

Oscar looks down at his phone, his last text to you still without an answer.

[00:25] Oscar: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

He sighs, typing a new message.

[00:30] Oscar: I hope you’re just busy and nothing bad happened.

[00:31] Oscar: I’m going to buy pizza on my way back home.

“Oscar?”

He immediately looks up to find Lando looking at him with a pout.

“Sorry, I needed to text my sister.”

He reaches forward and boops Oscar on the nose with his index finger. “You worry too much. Isn’t she the same age as you?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar feels a little silly now but doesn’t say anything. “But she doesn’t know anyone around here, so I don’t wanna leave her alone for so long.”

Lando flops his head onto Oscar’s shoulder and gazes up at him with his big, brown eyes.

“You’re cute.”

Oscar can’t help himself. He lifts his hand and pushes an errant curl behind Lando’s ear, fingers lingering on his cheek.

“You’re cute, too.” Oscar says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Lando’s eyes are wide as he stares at Oscar.

Oscar breathes into the air and Lando’s expression softens as he moves closer, breaths mingling and faces flushed. They’re so close that Oscar can count the freckles on his face.

The moment is interrupted by the ping of Oscar’s phone announcing a new message.

Oscar pulls away, hands reaching for his phone beside him.

[00:48] You: sorry was busy trying to fit all my clothes in your tiny closet

[00:48] You: pizza sounds good! im starving

[00:49] You: hope you’re…

He doesn’t finish reading the third message, he just gets up after the second one, almost throwing Lando off the couch.

“Wha—what happened?” Lando is confused, his pupils wide and a faint blush still on the top of his cheeks.

“Sorry, I have to go. My sister needs me.”

“But we were about to,” The curly-haired boy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, not really wanting to say the word ‘kiss’ out loud.

Oscar types a quick message, letting you know that he’s on his way, not even listening or looking at Lando. “See you Monday!”

Oscar is out of there in record time, leaving the party and a very confused and frustrated Lando behind.

Lando groans, head hanging over the back of the couch, and hides behind his hands.

A laugh startles him, making him look through his fingers. “That was awful, mate.” His best friend’s leaning against the wall behind the couch, a glass of —he assumes— gin and tonic in his hands.

“Were you watching us?” Lando wants to dig a hole and crawl in. “You perv!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me the first time I announced myself. You were too busy trying to get laid.”

Lando groans again, “I barely know Oscar’s sister but I don’t like her.”

Max laughs, plopping down next to him. Lando takes the still very full glass out of his friend’s hand and downs all the liquid, wincing as he’s not used to the taste.

“You should’ve run after him.”

He perks up, “Should I?”

“No, you idiot.” Max looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “Are you that desperate to get laid?”

“It’s not that.” Lando pouts, turning his body to the right so he’s facing him. “I really like Oscar. Like I have a huge, fat crush on him since the first time I saw him at hockey practice a year ago.”

“And I’m sure he knows it.” Max says, sarcastically.

“We barely talk,” Lando really wants the earth to swallow him whole. “well, he barely talks. I don’t know if he’s just shy or doesn’t like me.” He sighs, looking at his friend, who is listening expectantly. “And when I finally decide to do something, his sister moves in with him. It’s great. Just great.” He throws his hands in the air, tired, frustrated. Sexually frustrated more than anything.

“What a cockblock, uh?”

“Exactly! You’re the only one that gets me, Maxie.” Lando throws himself at him, and Max has barely any time to grab him by the waist to stop him from falling face first onto his lap. “I wish I didn’t catch feelings so fast. Just—like you! Fucking my way around, no strings attached. How do you do it?”

Max laughs, patting his friend on the back when he starts hiccuping.

“You’re too soft for that.”

“I’m not!” He pulls away, eyebrows furrowed. “I need to do something before I go mad. I really want Oscar to notice me.”

“Oh, believe me, he notices you.” But Lando is deep in his thoughts, bottom lip between his teeth. Max can almost see the cogs working inside his head.

“Does she not have a life? Friends?” Lando asks absentmindedly.

“Well, you said she just moved in.”

“So that’s what she needs.”

“What?” Max can barely keep up.

“A life!” Lando pulls out his wallet, and it takes him three failed attempts to pull out a 100€. He hands the money to Max without another word.

Max looks at him, and then the money in his hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” Lando shrugs. “just make sure she has a life.”

“What?”

“Money,” He takes his friend’s hand and places the money on his palm. “so you can take her out or something. I don’t care.”

“Hold on a second.” Max sits up, hand brushing through his hair. “You want me to take her out?”

“Yes! If you take her out, she has a life. Then, I can shoot my shot with Oscar without having to worry about his sister.” Lando looks like the cat that got the cream, eyes glistening and everything.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me. And everyone wins.”

“What do I win?” Max wants to laugh but the seriousness on his friend’s face stops him.

“A pretty girl.” Lando simply answers. “And 100€.”

“How do you know she’s pretty?”

Lando looks at him beneath his eyelashes, his lips in a pout. “Please do this for me.”

Max thinks about it for a second.

He really thinks about the whole plan.

He would be helping a friend — his best friend. He would be hanging out with a pretty girl and, if everything goes well, he would be getting in that same pretty girl’s bed.

And he needs a new camera.

“Just one time? Or you want this to be a regular thing?” If he’s going to do this, he may as well make the most out of it. “Because if you want me to keep her busy, that means I’d have to take her out and that means more money.”

“I can’t think anymore.” Lando throws his arm over his eyes, the music too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. “Let’s see how it goes first. Then, we talk about more money. Now just let me sleep, I’m gonna have the worst headache of my life tomorrow.”

“Well, you got yourself a deal.”

The first two classes weren’t that bad.

By the third one you felt a lot more comfortable. Even more so when you recognised one of your brother’s friends in the same class as you.

Charles gave you some tips about certain professors and what you needed to expect in your first year. He’s in his second year now, so you listened very closely to everything he had to say.

You’re one of the first ones to walk in the lecture hall, so you have enough time to find a seat and answer one of the dozen text messages from your parents asking about your day.

And the other dozen from your brother.

[15:23] Oscar: Want to have lunch together?

[15:28] Oscar: How’s your day going? Any news?

[15:35] Oscar: I just bumped into Charles. He says you’re doing good!

[15:40] Oscar: I have hockey practice today.

[15:42] Oscar: In case you want to come and walk home together.

You sigh, a small smile gracing your lips.

[16:02] You: all good so far. i have a very weird professor lol

[16:04] You: charles is such a nice guy, it made my classes so much easier and fun

[16:07] You: i really want to see you playing hockey so i might go look

[16:08] You: my last class is about to start so i’ll talk to you later. love you!

You’re hitting send when a presence startles you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, pointing to the seat right next to yours.

You look around the lecture hall, still pretty much empty.

“Uhm, no?” You can count on the fingers of one hand how many people are attending the class. But he still chooses to sit next to you.

The teacher comes in a few minutes later, a few more students after him, but even then the lecture hall feels empty.

“Hey,” The stranger says, leaning in to whisper without drawing the teacher’s attention.

You turn your head around, forcing yourself to move away when you realize how close he really is. “Yes?” You say, typing away on your computer as the professor gives the class the list of books needed for the semester.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” He has a sheepish smile. Only then you notice that he doesn’t carry a backpack, or books. He’s just there, in a class where he’s supposed to be taking notes, without anything.

You dig into your bag, pulling out a pen and a sheet of paper.

His smile grows. “Oh, thank you!”

“Are you sure you’re in the right class?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He turns his attention back to the professor, who’s saying something you should definitely be paying attention to, but you’re more focused on the boy sitting next to you.

“No reason at all.”

You make it through the first hour without distractions. Well, apart from the tapping of the stranger next to you and his constant sighing and twisting on his seat.

When the professor excuses himself to answer an important call, you know you have to say something.

“Can you stop, please? You’re distracting me.”

“Oh,” He leans a little closer, “Am I?”

You groan, asking yourself if staying in that seat is really worth it.

You don’t want to look at him, you really don’t. The first time you saw how big and blue his eyes were, you knew you wouldn’t be able to look at him again without getting lost in them.

So, you simply nod while pretending to look for a folder in your computer.

“I noticed the first time you kept typing the same line over and over again.”

Your blush starts at your neck and goes all the way up to your ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it again,” His breath hits you on the cheek, too close for your liking. “You know you’ve been opening and closing the same folder for five minutes now, no?”

You hold your breath, trying to regulate your heartbeat.

He doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on what the professor is trying to teach you. However, you know you won’t be paying much attention.

You can still feel the warmth emanating from him, making you feel hot all over. His closeness is enough to put you on edge.

Just when you think he won’t be bothering you again, he slides a piece of paper over to you.

You ignore it for about five seconds until you can’t anymore.

You unfold it.

‘Your hair is pretty’

It sends a thrill down your spine. The ghost of a smile crossing your face, something inside you making a funny little flip.

You force yourself to look at him, only to find his gaze already on you. The blonde stranger tilts his head and observes you for a while, and when you don’t know what to do, and afraid of giving away how flustered you really are, you simply roll your eyes as an answer, immediately going back to paying attention, or pretending to. But the professor is nowhere to be seen and everyone is picking up their things to get out of there as fast as possible.

Finally.

You pack up your own things, slipping his note inside your notebook without him noticing, and stand up ready to run away.

You only make it out of the lecture hall before he falls into step with you.

“Hey, you forgot this.” He shoves the pen into your face, almost making you trip over your own feet.

“You can have it.” You walk a little faster, but it seems he doesn’t want to leave you alone. “Pretty sure you need it more than me.” It’s just a whisper, a comment for yourself more than for him.

“Uh, feisty!”

You stop, turn around and take a deep breath. Plastering a smile on your face, you say, “You are annoying.” And it seems that you amuse him, because he fights back a smile. A very pretty smile, you notice. “Goodbye.”

“I’m Max, by the way!”

“I don’t care!” You’re not proud, but he totally deserves the middle finger you give him.

He doesn’t need to know but you’re glad you can put a name to that handsome face.

You check your texts as you make your way to the ice rink and, as expected, a message from your brother awaits you.

[17:45] Oscar: Something special you want for dinner today?

It’s cute how much he cares about you. Maybe too much sometimes, but you wouldn’t trade your twin and overprotective brother for anything in the world. Even if it means you have to put up with the hundreds of text messages and death glares directed at anybody who dares to even look at you.

“Texting a boyfriend?”

You look at Max from the corner of your eyes; he’s still walking a few feet behind. “Are you following me?”

He laughs. “Why would I be following you?”

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

How can someone be so attractive and annoying at the same time?

Unfortunately, he’s headed the same way.

“Are you on the hockey team?” If you slow down to wait for him, well, who can blame you?

He cocks his head and the edge of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Why? Are you into hockey players?”

“You can’t have a normal conversation, can you?”

Max laughs, opening the front doors and moving to the side to let you in first.

“Yes, I’m on the hockey team.” Max chuckles, “Are you on the hockey team?”

“My brother,” You answer him, and Max raises his eyebrows. “His name’s Oscar. Do you know him?”

“Are you asking me if I know my own teammate?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You’ve never felt so stupid talking to someone before, but that’s exactly how this guy makes you feel. Have you forgotten how to talk or he just loves being an idiot and getting under your skin?

“Max!”

Both of you turn around to find a curly-haired boy waving in your direction.

You recognize the bright, brown eyes of Lando Norris immediately.

“Hey, Y/N!” He says when you approach him, putting his arm around your shoulder. “I see you’ve met Max.”

You nod, “Yes. He’s in one of my classes.” Max winks at you. He has the audacity to wink. “Are you on the hockey team too?”

“Oh nah, that’s not for me. Max is actually my roommate.” Lando explains as Max leans against the side of the bleachers beside you. “I’m here as his moral support.”

Max laughs. A full belly-laugh.

Your head snaps at him so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash.

“Anyway,” Lando’s eyes widen, like silently saying something to his friend, before turning to look back at you. “Are you here to see your brother?”

“Yes. I don’t know anything about hockey, though.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t either. I’m here to see the hot guys.” You laugh at how honest he is. “You got plans tonight?” Lando asks after a few minutes, getting comfortable on the bleachers beside you, seeing some of the players getting out of the changing rooms.

“I don’t know if Oscar has something planned, but I don’t think so.” You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a little cold. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“I know this pub that serves the best Guinness in town.” He states, nudging you. “You and your brother should come.”

You shrug. It is a very appealing invitation after all, and after your first day of classes you definitely deserve it. “It sounds like a place I want to know.”

“Great!” Lando claps his hands together, then looks at his friend. “You should join us too, Max.”

Please say no, you think.

Max shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Great. Just great.

“I’m gonna get ready before the coach starts screaming at me again.” Max interrupts, a lopsided grin on his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Piastri.” He bows, like one of those Lords in a period drama, tilting his head up a little and winking once again, making your heart stop for a second.

He disappears before you have time to think about something witty to say.

You look back at the ice rink, spotting your brother from a distance. He sees you almost immediately, and waves at you with enthusiasm. You wave back, a soft smile spreading across your features.

Well, you have an hour to come to terms with spending the afternoon with the most annoyingly attractive, blonde haired and blue eyed boy you’ve ever met. What’s the worst that could happen?

✶ TAGLIST — @14fa. @hiireadstuff. @lolzblues55. @maifics. @littlegrapejuice. @landoslutmeout. @nikfigueiredo. @nciolisa. @rafexoxo. ✶

GWEN RAMBLES — well, hello! thank you so much if you made it this far. i don’t know when the next chapter will be posted. i’m already working on it, but it may take me a few days. if you want to be added to this series taglist you can reply to this post, send me a dm or leave it in my ask box! as you know, comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. i’ll see you in the next update!

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

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heartfullofleeches · 6 months ago

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Moonlight Waves

Yan Alien Human Guy Person + Jellyfish Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, pure fluff

“If you put some thought into it…The ocean and space have a lot in common.”

Vast, boundless frontiers- Depths and reach never to be fully unveiled to the eyes of man. All imposing surfaces blanketing both heaven and earth. Two opposing bodies that on nights just like this might align, conjoined by midnight and the luminous orb mirrored upon them both. The full moon was a blessed companion for those who found themselves alone on eves similar to this- Solace and guidance found in her radiance.

“Whelp- Guess it's time to throw myself.”

Wiser folk have said desperate times call for desperate measures- While there were lesser extremes he could have gone to, this seemed like the quickest solution to their predicament. Twenty-four years on this planet and they had still yet to conquer the strenuous feat that was learning how to swim. His mothers were gentle in their upbringing- Apparently too gentle as they never pressured their child into braving the horrors of the swimming pool. On one hand, the biggest factor to their child's fear may have been the fact that it was their neighbor’s pool - and it'd be quite difficult to explain the eerie glow to their toddler's tears and the stains they left on clothing.

They were fine with it early on, but as he grew - Alien realized how much he was missing out on being unable to swim. Most humans know how to swim by their age anyway which would give less credit to his claims of an earth born and raised member of the population….Which they were regardless of whether or not they knew how to swim.

Alien squares his shoulders, testing the binds of numerous weights anchoring various parts of their body. Unsatisfied with the distribution, he plucks a stone from the moist sand surrounding his legs - unfastening the velcro of their right breast pocket and adding it to the collection. A horde of trinkets ranging from shells to stones to a couple marbles crowded each pocket from the vest they wore down to the swimming trunks they purchased for the occasion. So what if his body was more buoyant than the average human being- requiring additional weight to avoid floating off into the endless sea. Alien had always been a scrawny person-

“That should be enough- Wait…Is that?”

Srounging for more space to stuff the final stone, a gentle glow envelopes their fingertips following a faint- snap! Alien pushes the rocks and shells aside, wrestling the shining band from beneath them with minimal effort.

*Jackpot! I thought I used all of these already. With this baby on, I'm definitely ready for this. Wish me luck up here!”

Alien gazes up at the moon as they slip the glow-stick bracelet onto their arm. It's the last thing they see as their legs carry the rest of them towards the end of the cliff. Had it not been a full moon or the sky so clear- tonight may have gone different for them. They could've swallowed their pride, and went to bed with intentions to sign up for the nearest swim class come morning. Realistically, Alien knew he'd never go through with that plan, but it was nice in theory. Safer too-

Head lost in the cloudless sky, Alien yelps as the ground is swept from beneath them - their screams swiftly snuffed by gallons of water as they're dragged into a plummet off the cliff's edge. Their body connects with the sea, pockets of air bubbling to the surface from the force at which they collide. The oxygen escaping him would have been alarming - had they any need for it. Whether they could hold their breath or their biology simply skipped the stage where their lungs depended on air was a secret they'd take to the grave.

Sinking fast, Alien realizes what some might call a flaw in their ingenious plan.

Perhaps, just maybe, they potentially added too much weight for them to claw their way back to the surface.

…

Ah well.

Since they're already down here, there's no harm in exploring. Hard to see much beyond the gleam of their jewelry dangling freely around their wrist, but they dig the vibe of it all - drifting weightlessly without aim or reason. The deeper they dove, the brighter the natural fluorescence of their skeleton bled through their skin. Alien had heard of a condition that made people's skin slightly yellow before. Surely the green glow of their bones had to be in the same family. The shine widens their range of sight. By now, it was hard to decipher which way they were facing. The moon had long since faded from view….

Oh, wait. There it is..

….

Is it?

Stranging their eyes through the blackened depths of the ocean, Alien can clearly make something out miles away from them - shrouded by a halo of light. It almost mimics their guideless descent - floating off course before gradually aligning itself in a mostly linear ascent towards them. That alone was enough evidence whatever they were looking at was not the moon. The fluctuation of its surface and the four, almost crescent shaped markings atop only served as further proof. Inch by inch, as the space between them grew narrow, Alien could make out more of its features. Flowing tendrils, a pair of arms floating freely at its sides, a face adorned with a dopey smile.

Face to face, the near angelic like figure raises one of its hands - waving its fingers at the unfamiliar face within its territory. Alien’s eyes tighten from the phosphorescence of the creature's skin. Ignoring the sting, Alien lifts his own hand, mirroring the entity’s motions. The corners of its smile peak higher upon its face, head following the dim glow of their bracelet. The lightly draws focus to the stones bulging from his pockets. The creature's grin falters into tight lipped confusion.

“Hey…Hey!”

Alien struggles to make a sound as its hands paw at the straps of their pockets. Successfully tearing the sleeve open, the creature yanks out every rock, every shell- It pauses briefly to marvel at the eye of the marbles in Alien's pocket before shoving them beneath the cap of their head as they continue. Depleting their vest of its contents was all it took to send Alien on their upwards rise towards the surface. The angel waves again before swimming its way to the top, gliding gracefully as a true angel would through the sky. It grabs onto Alien's wrist, tugging him along with them as he apparently took too long for their liking.

Alien could only watch on in awe as the darkness peeled away - moonlight adding on to the ethereal, otherworldly glimmer that was this being and its flesh. Could this be Alien's first encounter with an extraterrestrial? There was no possible way a creature of this radiance was from earth. They just couldn't be-

The creature releases their hold on Alien's wrist as they breach air. Alien finds himself searching for their touch, and another item he appeared to be missing. The angel, the only term Alien found fit for them, wandered towards the shore without him- back facing the sand as they spun a glowing band around their finger. Alien channels the knowledge of every training video they viewed before their trip as they doggy paddle in the general direction of the shore. Thankfully, there was still enough weight in their shorts to keep them perfectly balanced between drifting off and going under.

The energy is depleted from their very soul by the time they reach their destination. The angel sits with its lower half still bathed by the oncoming tide, rolling a marble through the crystalized sand. It throws its arm into the air as Alien appears.

The angel waves. Alien, running on fumes and the strange heartache that would come from not reciprocating their kind gesture- waves back.

The angel helps Alien sit upright, returning the marbles they had borrowed back into the land dweller’s pocket from which they can. Alien fishes out of the marble they saw the angel toy with and gives it back to them.

“Keep that one… So- you got a name?”

The angel’s mouth falls open in a “O” of both surprise and honor at the present. They brush the sand smooth before rolling the marble through it once more. Inspecting their craft, Alien can make out letters the further along the angel continues.

“Y/n? That's your name?”

You clap your hands in praise, sound and ferocity increased by the wetness of your palms. Cute.

“You, uh, come here often?”

The point of your finger towards the water states the obvious fact that you live here. A murmur akin to laughter slips past your lips at that one.

“You got me there… The sea’s pretty big, though. What I'm asking is can I see you again?”

You tap a finger to your chin in thought, head dipping towards the bracelet now hanging from your own wrist. You point to it, hope and wonder present in your grin.

“You like the bracelet? You can keep that too. I can bring you more if that's what you're asking.”

Clapping again, you latch onto Alien's side - merging your fingers with theirs as you hold them both to the sky. Moonlight pours through your skin and theirs, transparency muddled by the existence of their bones. Your head falls to their chest- a whisper so quiet they almost missed it.

“Like me…”

They're glad that they didn't.

#alien my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere fluff #yandere drabble

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suguae · 11 months ago

Text

Never lose me.

Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Warnings: Creampie, Virginity loss, Choking, Squirting, erm more probably idunno. Not proofread.

Also my first time writing this stuff so give feedback please!!

Toji was the last person to be in a relationship. He's tried way too many times, but he just wasn't amused by the women he met.

He was giving one last time tonight. "Thanks again Shiu." He says fixing his hair up in a mirror near the front entrance of his home.

"No problem man, I got you every time." Shiu says stuffing his mouth with popcorn as Megumi was deeply focused in the movie that had been playing in the back.

Toji checks his outfit one more time, a black tight long sleeve paired with black slacks. He knew it was basic but after all he doesn't plan on staying out long.

Here he sat bored out of his mind as this women had been doing nothing but blabbering about herself. She was beautiful, but god she would not shut up. Toji got at least four words and it's already been half an hour.

He looked around trying to entertain himself another way, till his eyes landed on you. You were one of his first dates. He vividly remembers you, everything about you was so fucking perfect. Till he found out you were too young for him.

The pink strapless dress you had on tonight, how it hugged your peachy ass perfectly. Your hair was so silky and longer than last time he saw you. Your laugh echoing into his ears.

He still remembers the disappointed look in your face when he told you how it just couldn't work out. But he didn't hesitate to jerk off that night, thinking about you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cold liquid poured onto his head. "Why the hell are you eyeing that fucking women when we're on a date?" The women says catching the attention of many around the restaurant. Even you.

Fuck.

"You're fucking crazy." He scoffed getting out of his seat leaving her there all alone. He walked passed you before exiting the restaurant.

He sat in his car taking off his shirt. 'I'm definitely done.' He said quietly talking to himself.

He heard a small tap on his window. He turned his head making eye contact with you. Slowly rolling the window down. "So this is where you take all your dates huh?" You chuckled.

Just at the sound of your sweet laugh he felt his heart skip a beat. "What do ya want kid?" He sighs flipping his damp hair back.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not even that much younger than you." You say leaning on the car door to have a better look at him.

"Y/n, 15 years apart is not a lot?" He asked while his eyes kept floating to your peachy lips. He would fuck that little mouth of yours and love it.

You smiled, "Nope."

That smile had him in a chokehold.

"Get in." Toji unlocks the doors to the car, he noticed that pretty little smirk draw on your face as you slowly back up from his door to walk to the passenger side.

Your ass moving like jello when you walked past the front of his car giving him a perfect view. Just at the sight of you made his blood move straight to his dick.

Next thing you know, all that was heard in the car was the rustling and sloppy wet kisses in Toji's car . You tauntingly pull away from this kiss. You felt Toji's grip around your waist tighten.

It hurt so fucking good. His big arms, how little you looked sitting on top on him. "Fuck...why'd you pull away?" He whispered.

You looked at him with those pleading big doe eyes, "Did you ever miss me Toji?"

"Of course I did." His hands roamed to the fat meaty part of your ass to grab the hem of your dress, sliding it over your head.

No bra, just that slutty bright pink thong. He noticed the tattoo of a butterfly between your breast. How it made your plump tits pop out more.

Toji admired the beauty in front of him. Was it desperate to say this was how he wanted that night to end? That night when he first met you.

You leaned in giving him wet lazy kisses all over his neck. Sucking a little harder in some places to leave marks. "Toji I need you." You whispered in his ear causing his body to shudder.

Toji wanted to fuck you hard.

"Get in the back." He says guiding you to the back of his car. He gets out of the car to go to the back to meet you there.

His dick was throbbing at he sight of you laying in the back patiently like the good little girl you were.

This was gonna be hard for Toji, He was such a big man in such a small little car. But he was gonna make it worth it.

His hands slowly roaming your body making his way to hover on top of you. Planting kisses on your soft tender breast. Sucking one and squeezing the other to give it the same amount of attention.

As you were panting wanting more from Toji, you could feel your hot core crying for Toji. "I wan u." You say breathlessly.

His hand that was massaging your breast was now on your neck, squeezing tightly but not too tight. "You need me that bad?"

You whimper, "Yes."

You were driving Toji crazy.

His dick was aching more than anything. Wanting to fuck that wet little cunt of yours.

'Fuck..' He makes you sit on top of him. Pulling out his fat veiny cock. His tip drooling with pre-cum. You look up and gulp.

"Toji..." You stuttered.

He moves your thong to the side, slowly moving his index and middle finger inside your gushy wet cunt.

You gasp with pleasure. "T-Toji."

You lean in as he was focused on your cunt. Increasing the speed of the thrusting. You planted a wet kiss on his red plump lips. Bitting his bottom lip as you whine to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Toji fas..ter" You stutter. You could feel his long big fingers constantly hitting that rubbery gushy flesh in your pussy. You felt as if knots were forming in your stomach.

You slowly slide your hand down to Toji's girth. Rubbing your thumb on his wet tip. Toji hissed. You smiled.

"Fuck me already." you breathlessly moan, as your hand slowly slides down Tojis shaft, delicately pumping his dick.

You felt close as Toji kept thrusting his fingers deep into your pussy. He teasingly slides his hands out as he hears your moans getting louder.

His fingers making its way up to your empty mouth. Sliding his fingers deep in your mouth. "Beautiful baby, don't you taste so good?"

You nod. Unable to verbally answer.

"Good girl." He smirks, slowly moving his fingers out of your mouth. He looks down at his shaft as your hand was still wrapped around it.

He guides your hand up and down his cock. Earning low grunts from Toji. "You like that?" you softly whisper.

"C'mere." He huffs with pleasure. Guiding his cock to the entrance of your wet cunt.

"T-Toji, be gentle...it's my first time." You whispered the last part. You hide your face to embarrassed at the sudden confession.

Oh but he loved the idea of having your little pussy all to himself. Touched by no one other than you and him.

"It's alright darling...put it in f'me, will ya?" He says grabbing your hands guiding them down to his cock.

Slowly you grab his lengthy fat cock, twitching in your hands as you slowly guide it in. You wince in pain as his cock stretches your pussy.

"Fuck yer so tight f'me baby." Toji hisses as he grabs both ass cheeks guiding you.

"Ahh Toji, hurts m..me." You say wrapping your arms around his neck, hands intertwining with his hair.

" Ts'okay yer gonna feel better." He grunts as he throws his head back. Guiding your hips to move faster.

"F..Fuck Toji." You sob with pain and pleasure.

Toji knew it hurt, but he fucking loved the tightness around him. How he could feel every inch of you. He wanted this ever since his eyes first landed on you. "Fuck y/n." He moaned.

The pleasure was now taking over. Your whole body feeling euphoric as you hop on Toji's dick like a bunny. You pant out a chuckle.

"Uhh f-fuck doll, i love your fucking pussy." He whimpers. Toji

Toji Fushiguro whimpering. How you had him fucking wrapped around your little finger.

He lifts you up a bit as he bucks his hips into you harder and way more faster. "T-Toji I'm gonna...Im close." You cry out as you feel that knotting sensation in your stomach again.

"Cum f'me baby.." He hissed as his pace fastened.

And you did.

The warm feeling overcoming your body as you limp onto Toji's chest as he's still balls deep. The loud moan that escapes your body causes Toji's cock to twitch inside you.

"This pussy is all mine yknow that?" He grunts as he thrust getting ready to cum.

"t-Toji sta-" You were overstimmulated as you felt Toji's hand roam down to your pearly clit, softly rubbing it.

"Tell me your pussy is all mine." You could feel your body beginning to shake. You bit Toji's shoulder. His pace in thrusting hasn't changed but he was rubbing your clit like their was tomorrow.

You bite harder as you feel an odd feeling as if you need to pee. "Toji...ah baby pee..i need t-"

He grabbed your neck basically choking you. "I fucking said tell me!" He says as your arm wraps around his hand that had been choking you.

"Mmmf..fu..Daddy's pussy...only..Toji I'm gonna pe.." You felt the warm liquid running down your legs as Toji lets his load out inside you.

"Fuck…baby you squirted.” he throws his head back and you plop onto his chest. Both panting.

You lazily chuckled a bit embarrassed.

He grabs your face, planting soft kisses onto your swollen red lips. "How was it for ya first time, baby?"

Your hands wrap around his neck as you lay your head down on his chest. Lazily smiling at him. "I could do it every night." You mumbled.

"I'd like that.." He kisses the top of your head as your eyes slowly closed.

He took you home that night after fucking you dumb, giving you the best after care. Ending the night with him asking you to be his girlfriend. And of course you said yes.

#jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #rosipuree

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icomeandg0 · 3 months ago

Text

“More than one” part 2!

Linked universe x reader (s) (Female)

Warnings: confusing.

A/N: I didn’t think the other post would get so much, thank you all<3

“She’s awake!”

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“An explanation is due.” Legends voice cuts through the silence earning a huff from Wild, “Can this wait until…later?”

“You can’t blame us for being curious, you did leave while we were sleeping—“

“And brought a girl with you!”

Sky and Wind chimed in, Wild wasn’t going to get a rest unless he told them, always on his arse he swears—

“Fine! I’ll tell” Wild clears his throat before sighing, “You see, she’s this girl from my era, she’s very important to me and she’s…one of the best things in my life and I plan on making sure she’s safe and by my side. Y/n L/n is her name and, goddesses if anything happens to her I would never forgive myself…” Wild says tenderly, he was very fond of you.

“Eugh, I asked for an explanation not a sappy, love story.” Legend takes his chance to tease Wild, “You’re the one that asked” Wild retaliates.

“Y/n huh? Must be a common name, I had a Y/n. She was certainly…Something.” Warriors voice grew a bit quiet as he looked off to the side, however no one really paid attention. “Yeah, I have a childhood best friend named Y/n” Four says, “Really? Me too!” Sky says, “The Y/n back at mine is such a sweetheart, city gal on the outside, country on the inside” Twilight spoke with a smile.

“Well I’ve got you all beat! My Y/n’s the best, she’s on of the best people I’ve met during my adventure!” Wind grins, “How about you, Hyrule? What about your Y/n?” Hyrule scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “Well, I never met a Y/n during my adventure so…can’t really comment”

“Jeez, if this Y/n girl makes all of you like this I hope I never meet a Y/n” Legend huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “How about you, old man?” Twilight asked, Time only sighed and opened his open eye. “I don’t see how this is relevant to our current situation therefore we must shut it down and focus on the subject.” Everyone went quiet after Time spoke, they all looked a bit ashamed but none the less changed the subject.

“Sheesh, must’ve been a harsh break up for Time…” Legend whispered over to Sky who felt remorse for the eldest hero.

“When she wakes up we’ll need to ask her a few questions, hopefully she can provide a few answers.” Time says earning a nod from Wild, “I’ll do the talking”

Soon their ears twitch as they hear shuffling coming from Hyrules tent. Soon it opens to reveal you inside, “Holy Hylia! I’ve been robbed—kidnapped too! Give my stuff back you thieves!” You point at the group in front of you, clearly you haven’t processed the fact that your Link was there.

“Y/n! You’re awake” Wild got up to his feet to help you up since you were on all fours which could re open the wound on your side.

“Link? What the hell are you doing here? Did you rob me?”

“No I didn’t rob you, nor did they—look just come. We need to talk, alone.” Wild looks at the boys, once he earned a nod he took you by the hand and led you away.

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“So what’s this all about—woah!” Wild immediately wrapped his arms around you, “oh by the three, I’ve missed you so much” Wild buried his head into your neck as you giggled softly and hugged him back.

“Heh, I’ve missed you too” Wild moves his head so he’s looking up to you now, “How did you get here?” “Crazy story really! You see…a portal sucked me in while I was out trying to find you a couple weeks ago.”

“Weeks? You were here for that long, alone?” “Nah! You see I have this really cool girl group I travel with and wanna know something? They’re all Y/n’s!” You exclaimed making Wilds eyes widen in astonishment.

“Really?” “Yeah! There’s TPY/n, HWY/n, OOTY/n, SSY/n, LAY/n, LOZY/n, FSY/n, WWY/n. Bit of a tongue twister but when you meet them they’ll greet you properly”

Wild felt a bit overwhelmed of the thought of meeting more Y/n’s but he nods either way, if the others say their Y/n’s were as lovely as they described then he’ll be fine! "Anyways, do you know this place? what about you tell me what happened before, you were unconscious and wounded when I found you"

"I was? Damn, let me try and remember..." You thought for a bit before speaking again, "We found a village nearby and it was called Agoir city, it must be the capital of this land because it has a massive castle. Me and the girls were shopping around like usual until WWY/n had to go ahead and steal something and get caught. Since we all looked the same they probably thought we were a thief family or something along those lines. OOTY/n told us all to split up so we wouldn't be taken, I ended up with TPY/n but those guards were quite literally right up our asses so we had to fight a few"

"I'm sure violence could've been avoided"

"Nope! but then they all attacked me so they landed a few blows and..I don't remember the rest" You finish explaining, Wild nods, "That was helpful information, really was. I'll tell the others but- There was this dragon that was...protecting you" "Oh...That's a relief she wasn't taken...Where is she? Is she back at the camp?" You asked, Wild shook his head. "We left her back where we found her-" "You did what?!"

Wild closes his mouth and looks at you with his blue eyes that were filled with confusion, "Okay...Okay, Link I need you to come back with me to see if she's still there, please." You hold your hand out which he takes with no hesitation, "Yeah, okay. Just gotta tell the others first." "Others?" "Yeah, You woke up in a rush you probably didn't process the fact that there were others back at camp." You sighed softly as he begins to pull you back to them all.

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"Oh woah! So you all are Links? That must be confusing...?" You tilt your head as you look at the lookalikes, you could tell the differences of each Link but being surrounded by them all is making you realise...This bitch is attractive in every universe, (Besides from Wind but he still a cutie.) "It did but we got our own names to call us by" They went around in a circle to introduce themselves, after Time introduced himself he opened his mouth once again.

"Is it true? that there are other Y/n's here?" Time asked a bit on edge, "Yup! Somewhere in Agoir city, I plan on taking Wild with me if that's alright with you" "No."

Wild gulped as Time's voice was stern but you didn't falter, "Well with all due respect, mister but I don't think that's something you have control over. I need Link to help me save my friends and considering it's his duty to do so I don't think it's very wise to intervene." You spoke, a hint of sassiness in your tone...most of the boys shared one thought.

'Yup, definitely a Y/n'

"I wasn't going to deny...I was going to say we were all going to come along too" Time finishes making you sheepish, "Sorry..." You scratch the back of your head and he only chuckles lightly before getting up, "C'mon boys, pack up everything so we can leave as soon as we can"

To be continued…

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And that’s a wrap! Hope you all enjoyed, don’t worry next chapter is all about the Y/n’s I promise but if you don’t understand I’ll put down who’s who for the Y/n’s.

I’ll put up a poll later on today, but I hope you all enjoyed this.

Taglist?

@fantasyhopperhea

TPY/n = Twilights era

HWY/n = Warriors era

OOTY/n = Times era

SSY/n = Sky’s era

LAY/n = Legends era

BOTWY/n = Wilds era (who was in this story)

LOZY/n = Hyrules era

FSY/n = Fours era

WWY/n = winds era.

#linked universe x reader #link x reader #lu x reader #linked universe #loz #x reader #lu sky #lu four #lu time #lu legend #lu Hyrule #lu wind #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild

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chaethewriter · 1 year ago

Text

You're dead to me [11]

Dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

A/N: at last, I'm back. It's been a while since I looked back at an "x reader" this satisfied. I'm still trying my best getting back into writing frequently, so I'm still looking and stuff. Either way, enjoy and tell me when you think. <3

previous part

next part

Drip. Tap. Crack.

A killing silence filled the room. Your siblings had left the space, as well as Norm, leaving you alone in the (dis)comfort of your father's presence. His breath was heavy as he lied there, on the operating table. Elbows resting behind him, keeping his body up. You sat next to him in one of those uncomfortable folding chairs. The ones you sat on during birthday parties, when it was too crowdy and the usual seats were occupied. You didn't know what you thought when you has begged Neteyam to bring you here, no plan on mind other than knowing your father was fine.

Drip. Tap. Crack.

The silence was deafening.

Killing you inside. Slowly.

"I didn't know what I would have done if you..." his voice was hoarse as he spoke. Which was understandable, coming from someone risen from the death. You scoff under your breathe, shaking your head in the progress as you knew the end of his sentence.

"You... you were the one that.. you..", you had a hard time forming that sentence, so you just settled on the most obvious one, hoping that the conversation could from out of it.

"why did you do it?"

A stupid question in Jake's eyes. What did you mean why? Why he protected you? Wasn't it obvious why he did so?

"I'm your father."

You scoffed again. One that held more grudge into the tone, "You're also their father."

And the conversation you hoped to start, had started. A conversation that was inevitable. A conversation that was needed in order to maintain a healthy relationship among a family. A conversation only you could start and hope to end well.

He didn't answer your comment, keeing his mouth sealed and watching you from the operation table, a side eye. Not a judging expression, but one that held shame. As if deep down he knew what you meant.

"You have been treating your children so.. horribly. The pressure on Neteyam, the punishments for Lo'ak, no attention flashed to Tuk and Kiri is basically a ghost. And then I come along, after not seeing me for two decades and you treat me like your only daughter? Do you know how that makes them feel? How that makes ME feel?"

You gasp for air as the words leave your lips in one sentence. During this, you watch your father's expression. His gaze was now on his lap. Ashamed of himself. Tommy's words already made him realize how he had been acting, but hearing them from a living person, hearing them from you, was so much different. So much more realistic than talking to a dead person in his head.

"You threw your kids even more to the side when I entered the picture. It made me feel so cruel, as if I stole their father away. Since I had missed that father figure as much as they do. The only person that had a father figure was Tuk and it was Neteyam. God dad, he's only fifteen! He should be a kid, not a father figure to his own sister!"

That cracked his heart, but you didn't care for the moment. You had to make him realize what kind of person he became. Only then, when that realization settled in, could all of you heal and continue forward.

"Neteyam is fifteen.. do you know how young that is? That would be highschool on earth! And even if Na'vi age works differently, he's still a boy! He should be growing up properly, have free time and hang out with teenagers his age. He shouldn't be babysitting 24/7 while still being a kid himself, that's your job. He should be your son first, and the future Olo'eyktan second."

Your eyes had teared up once again at the sight of Neteyam's hurt, his exhaustion, the smile that quite didn't reach his eyes.

You continued.

"You're so terribly hard on Lo'ak. He's reckless, always causing trouble which makes him the center of attention." You chuckled soft at your own words, "but have you ever wondered why he acts this way? Have you EVER went up to him, put your arm around his shoulders and asked if he was alright? Instead of always cutting him off? You spend so much time doing other stuff and when you turn to Lo'ak it's for punishng him. He just wants your attention, as his father. Do you know how damaging it is that he accepts that he could only grab your attention by doing stupid stuff?"

No, you weren't done yet.

"Tuk and Kiri. Such beautiful girls with kind hearts. Smart too, they know what they want. Do you know how they like to spend their free time?"

You tilted your head to the side, pursed lips as you awaited his answer. That never came and it only showed your words right. It honestly made you scoff in embarrassment.

"And after treating all your beautiful children like crap, you took me in like I was the only person in the world. You cared for me, set your attention on me and you thought that was right?"

You slowly got up from your, shaking your head furiously, "if this is the way you're going to parent... then I don't even want to call you my dad."

"I hate you papa!!" You sobbed loudly as you hugged your knees to your chest, soft whines leaving your lips with snot dripping down your nose. Your father hadn't been paying attention to you in a week. You were a very independent child. You could make yourself cereals and a cup of lemonade, but you needed that emotional connection. Something you hadn't gotten from anyone in days. He had been stressed, spending his hours with his nose buried in the screen and drinking away during his free time. You understood he was busy, but he had a full child at home, in need of attention. Without the proper attention you needed, you had thrown your tantrums. Throwing pillows, ripping folders and trying to empty the loads of vodka bottles in the cupboards. He had tried to ignore those silly tantrums of yours, just assuming it was because you're young. Yet when you emptied a bottle of alcohol on the floor, because you missed the sink with your tiny short legs, hell broke lose. He had screamed at you and grabbed harshly at your forearms, something he promised himself to never do to you. When he let go of you out of the horror of his own reaction, you had crawled to a corner out of fear, crying your heart out as the words escaped your lips. 'I hate you, daddy.' The words echoed through his head, like a taunt of how bad of a father he had been to you for the past days. His hand rested on the wheels of his wheelchair as he made his way towards you, slowly yet steadily. You had sobbed that you wanted him to stay away, since he was good at that up until a moment ago.

"I'm so sorry baby.." he took you in his arms, on his lap despite your punching and screaming. He held you, hugging you close, allowing you to punch and scream your frustrations out. It seemed to help, as your sobs slowed down, as well as your aggressive punching. With you cuddled up in his lap, he rolled towards the kitchen and took his two biggest bottles of alcohol in his hands. He nudged you and you looked up at him, a clear frown on your face as you saw him holding the familiar bottles. Your father smiled at you, uncapping the bottles and emptying its contents into the sink. You watched him, loud squeals leaving your lips as you smacked at the bottle while he did so. You didn't know what alcohol was, but you knew that when your daddy touched it, he wasn't your daddy anymore.

"Missed daddy.."

"I missed you too baby.. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, for everything." Parallels. Ironic. Your father had grabbed your hand, keeping you from walking (crawling due to your injuries) away. The words left his lips with a hitch, a soft breath that was stuck in his throat. You turn your head at his words, wondering if you heard them well. Jake had pulled you towards him, sitting on the same table as him.

"I'm sorry." His words were firm now, determined, laced with confidence. "I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for putting you in a tough position on Pandora. I'm sorry for being unfair to the family I called my fortress. I'm sorry for tearing this family apart. I'm sorry for letting you down during your entire life." He didn't know what he wanted to reach with his apologies, but the moment they left his lips it felt as if a weight lifted from his chest. As if he could talk about it all now, with you.

"I wanted the best for us two, I wanted you to grow up well, without problems. Get into the besr schools, a job to live comfortably without worrying about money.. but I needed money to fulfill this wish. So I left. I left for a job that could pay for everything you needed. I left with the promise I would return, but I-"

"But you didn't." You cut him off, lips quivering as the tears continued to pool, "you forgot about the promise and left me alone."

He shook his head in response, "I didn't forget, oh eywa, I could never. I was.. ashamed? I went against my biological people and I didn't get money I promised to get you. I failed as a dad, I thought I didn't deserve to see you anymore.. so I stayed. I stayed and it was wrong of me to do so." His hand made their way to your wrists as he pulled you close to him, hugging you tight as if you would disappear were he to let you go.

"I now see how wrong this was of me. I should have asked you about it. What you thought, what you wanted. You were so young, yet you knew exactly what you wanted. I should have remembered how smart of a girl you were and still are. It was wrong of me to make that decision on my own."

It all came crashing down on you. All of a sudden, you were a clueless child again. That same clueless child from over a decade ago. The same child that cried to her hearts content as she came to know that her daddy left her without an explanation and didn't return. You cried at his chest, clawing at his blue skin as he craddled you like a baby. His baby, his daughter.

"It must have been confusing for you, suddenly being on a new planet and your dad unrecognizable to you. Then suddenly he pulls you in once he knows who you are to him, never directly speaking about everything that had happened.." there was no point in apologizing anymore. He could only understand, learn and be a better father for you. Only through his actions, he could apologize truthfully.

It was quiet for a while. A comfortable silence. Not the killing, awkward silence that filled the room not so long ago. The only thing heard were your soft sobs, as well as the soft kisses of reassurance that were pressed against your hair. Jake was loss in thoughts, wondering what he should say next. He knew he had to start about what you had said, about your siblings, about his kids.

But where could he possibly start?

He didn't want to fuck up again. He had to think carefully of what to say next.

"What about Teyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, Tuk?" Your voice cracked, hurt laced in your voice as you spoke. The mention of their names cracking something within Jake.

"They..." he took a deep breath, before continuing, "I projected my fears on them. I never got to fulfill the dreams I had for you and I projected that on Neteyam. He has an amazing future ahead of him, but I let my fears consume me. He's so talented, but he's incredibly young and he's missing out on his childhood. Him having fun won't change the way he acts. He has always been intelligent and very thoughtful."

You nodded your head in agreement and he could feel it against his skin. "Teyam's incredible, but he deserves a breather from time to time. I promise you, he won't slack off."

With that, Jake had to agree.

"Lo'ak.. reminds me of myself. Reckless, a headless chicken even." The both of you chuckle at that statement and Jake looked back at his first year on Pandora. He was reckless, stupid, embarassing.

"I see myself in him. Like someone chasing you in a dream, but you can't get away. It reminded me of my past mistakes, so I punished him in the hopes to witness his improvements. I never looked at it from a bigger perspective. He must have wondered why his dad treated him like shit.." he huffed at the irony of it all.

"Speak to him, spend time with him. Teach him the things you teach Teyam. Believe me, you will notice improvements in your relationship."

He nodded in agreement at your words.

"Kiri, Tuktirey. My beautiful girls.. I don't know why I barely bat an eye to them. Could it be because it reminded me of you? That it hurt to spend time with them out of shame for how I treated you? Or because I was too busy with my role as Olo'eyktan? I don't know, but it wasn't right of me. They don't deserve that treatment of being disregarded."

You smile at him, your father. Proud for finally speaking his heart out. "You should tell them, you know? Speak with them. Make things right. I know confronting the problem at hand might be hard, but you're the leader of an entire clan. This is supposed to be easy for you." You almost teased him for having an easier time being the leader of a clan while at war than being a father to a family.

He then gripped at your forearms. It wasn't a hard grip, more out of desperation. "I will make it right. Not only for you, but for my kids and mate, as well. I want to make it right with my family, so please, stay as well. Even if this might be a selfish request of me. You are my daughter, OUR daughter. And you have four siblings that accepted you faster than ever. So please, stay."

You bit down on your bottom lip. You didn't have much left on earth, expect the colonel. Would she be angry with you if you decided to stay? Just like you were angry with your dad? Or would she be proud that you had finally found the happiness you deserved?

Was it okay for you to be selfish?

A frown made its way on your voice as you look up at him, "but I don't belong here. I'm a human."

Did you yourself even believe that statement? There were a lot of humans left on Pandora, whom even lived among the people.

"You're just trying to convince yourself that you don't belong here so that you won't feel guilty." You scoffed. He could read you like a book.

"You belong here, with us. You know?"

You didn't reply. Instead, you wrapped your arms around father, squeezing the life out of him. Who would have known that such a small girl like you could hold him so tightly?

"Babygirl.. honey.." Jake gasped for air, his arms stuck in your tight embrace as he couldn't reach for his mask. You quickly pull away from him, watching him take a hold of the mask at his bedside and taking a deep whiff of Pandoran air.

You watch the entire ordeal in low chuckles.

Everything would be better now.

It has to be.

COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS <3

#chaethewriter #dad! jake sully #dad jake sully #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x human!daughter!reader #jake sully x daughter #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader

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scoonsalicious · 6 months ago

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7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place.

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger.

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich.

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things?

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.”

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement.

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings.

And shit, you believed him.

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin.

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname.

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans.

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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tswwwit · 6 months ago

Text

Cult Part 5! Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.

“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”

His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.

“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”

“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”

Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.

“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”

Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake.

Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.

Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.

For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.

A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.

Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move.

So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place.

The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.

He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.

Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’.

Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor.

But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.

Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.

Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends.

The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching.

Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode.

And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.

He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision.

He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.

Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.

As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”

All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”

It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.

Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.

“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”

A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious.

Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.

And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary.

Stopping him from talking is the hard part.

“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”

“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.

He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.

He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes.

It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking.

A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.

“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”

A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”

Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider. Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”

Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.

He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide.

“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”

“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.

“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.”

Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”

“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.

Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up. “This one was…?”

“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”

A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new.

Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.

Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.

Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?”

“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”

“The market for…?”

“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail.

“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.

“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”

“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -

Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.

Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.

Special.

Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.

Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.

“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”

Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how -

“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide. “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”

“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.

“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.”

Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-

“How much of this is true?” He asks.

If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.

“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”

An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.

“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”

“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”

Dipper glances at the screen.

The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.

Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.

Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head.

Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.

Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life.

And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice.

One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab.

It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself…

Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist.

Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t.

It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.

But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper.

In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time.

He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap.

So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like…

Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.

Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.

The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable.

There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap.

Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.

But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person.

And while the setting’s fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.

The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now.

Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.

He’s even doing it right now.

The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -

Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.

Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path.

He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…

Dipper speaks up.

“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”

“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”

No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track.

“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”

“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”

“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”

“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”

“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”

Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..

It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to.

It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.

Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone.

But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges.

“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!”

That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but-

Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.

“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.”

A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank.

Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you."

He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.

But Bill doesn’t deny it.

God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…

Holy shit. Dipper’s right.

His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.

But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead.

“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”

“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”

Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride.

Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.

“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”

Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful.

There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show.

He’s only focused on one person.

Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’.

Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention -

Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special?

No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces.

Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it.

Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from.

Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either.

Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down

“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”

Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything.

“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”

“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”

Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.

“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”

“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling.

So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling.

Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though.

Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.

“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.

One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-

Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.

“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”

Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it.

He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive.

Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…

Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.

“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”

Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer.

“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so-

Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.

“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness.

Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.

“Nope!”

“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.

“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”

How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.

Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.

“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”

“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.

Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.

“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”

“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.

“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”

‘Fun stuff’.

Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’.

He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming.

“Is that… so.”

“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”

“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually.

Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance.

He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue.

Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat.

“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”

“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.”

Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch.

Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead.

What will he do? When he goes back?

He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…

He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was -

Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid.

And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.

Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.

“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”

“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”

“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.

For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.

Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise.

In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there.

“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing.

Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment.

And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.

Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet.

“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”

Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?

Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning.

Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.

Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off.

And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it.

The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered. Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn.

Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.

Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.

Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”

“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.

“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”

The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.

“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.

With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”

The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -

Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.

“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”

Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.

Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch.

“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”

“Seems ‘uh’, what?”

“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails.

“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”

“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself.

It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-

“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”

“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff.

It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.

Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face.

Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies.

Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.

Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like.

“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”

The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask.

“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”

“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.”

Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light.

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.

God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -

Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.

“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest.

The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat.

“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him.

“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.”

Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.

“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”

“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”

“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide.

“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.

Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted.

Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off.

“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.

Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”

Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.

Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura.

He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm.

Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that.

He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.

The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it.

Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.

Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while.

Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote.

Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals.

Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again.

“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.

Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.

Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.

Maybe he should replay it to check.

The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -

“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor.

The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.

Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show.

Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway.

He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.

Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does.

And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.

Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.

He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-

The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels.

That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.

Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.

“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”

“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”

“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully.

“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”

A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again.

There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”

With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.

Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today.

As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused.

Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.

“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”

Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.

Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”

The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama.

Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more.

God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.

Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.

He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch.

It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric.

Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.

Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead.

Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way.

Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy.

Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan.

And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed.

Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.

Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.

Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize

Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.

Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale. Dipper can manage.

It’s just…

The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic.

Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him.

If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face -

Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns.

There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped.

Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well. It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.

But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.

The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it.

Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob.

The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.

The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away.

Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’.

Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.

If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.

Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot.

This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on.

Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses -

Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.

Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger.

For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.

“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”

Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.

Better get to work.

Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust.

There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.

Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not.

Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse.

Dipper figures it out in about two minutes.

The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.

He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off.

On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection.

Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important.

No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest.

Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit.

But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock.

…It’s all about misdirection.

Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead.

Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.

Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage.

Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer.

Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.

This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit.

Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.

This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice.

The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and -

He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.

Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time.

More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it.

Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve.

So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.

He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips.

Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be.

Is there… actually nothing here?

Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature.

So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door.

And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.

He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks.

Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.

Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.

As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table.

Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet.

Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it.

The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.

Sadly, there’s not much to look at.

Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one.

He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…

Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible.

With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.

Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.

This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-

Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!

Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later.

In his hands, there’s a picture frame.

Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.

A picture of Bill. What a surprise.

Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image.

Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.

“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers.

Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or -

Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily.

And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book.

Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good.

A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -

Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here.

It’s just a picture of… Dipper.

And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down.

For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable.

Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Why is this stashed away? It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.

Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.

There wasn’t just one picture.

With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.

“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.

Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself.

How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…

Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room.

Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup.

“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.

So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.

Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-

A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.

Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about -

No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.

Shit.

Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.

Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch.

No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.

That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea.

Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.

And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition.

Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out.

All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings.

It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.

The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.

Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.

After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.

Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen.

The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall?

Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him.

It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.

And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off..

Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly.

He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide. The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder.

Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -

Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing.

The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.

Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow.

At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.

Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.

Well. He’s intact.

A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.

Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad.

Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and -

At Bill.

A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.

Then he blinks.

Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor.

Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face. It flickered through several before settling on blank..

“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”

Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else.

He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.

What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does.

“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”

A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.

At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple.

“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently.

Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.

Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened.

“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”

Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.

Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.

“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”

A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.

Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea.

That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.

Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.

“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”

Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action.

Watching Bill about to enact his vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -

The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.

“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”

On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.

“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.

No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -

“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”

Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.

“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”

Oh.

There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could.

Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.

And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched.

“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”

Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another.

And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that -

“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”

“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”

“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”

Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.

That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now.

“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”

Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him.

He’s…

All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.

Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay.

This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine.

He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks.

Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension.

He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.

Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it.

Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.

Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim -

But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.

Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.

Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair.

The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while.

Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.

The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.

Living here. With Bill.

Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line.

All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument.

His assumptions have never been right.

Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.

Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.

DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just.

Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache.

Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other.

If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.

They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’.

And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid.

It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.

Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream.

It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.

How the hell is he getting away with all of this?

It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo.

Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.

The birthmark. It must be that.

The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.

But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages.

It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.

Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better.

Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.

Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special.

It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…

Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.

Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box.

Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips.

Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow.

There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.

Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-

No, His room. Where he lives.

An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight.

Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.

The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.

Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -

Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed.

He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him.

Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.

He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…

Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought.

It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily.

He could use that.

Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second.

The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.

And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace.

He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk.

Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north.

“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”

“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”

Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.”

Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.

Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence.

Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it. “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?”

A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”

Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”

Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”

He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.

Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.

And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.

“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong! Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”

“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way -

Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.

“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”

Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes.

Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless.

He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.

…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great.

Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses.

“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”

“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-

“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”

“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”

Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads.

Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off - but when doesn’t he?

Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them.

Wait, what are they doing here?

The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -

Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.

He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.

Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed.

Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”

“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room.

Just as he suspected. It is a great bed.

As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to.

It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill. For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever.

Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment.

“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”

Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”

His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry.

Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back.

Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline.

Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like.

There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth.

Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face.

Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude.

The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound.

He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.

A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence.

Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable.

So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all.

The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days.

But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise.

“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”

Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering.

There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up.

It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.

He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe.

Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants.

The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.

And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’.

Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.

“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that.

He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to.

Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight.

Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.

Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.

God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter.

The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls.

After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would.

Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.

None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really.

…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward.

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient.

Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective.

Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.

#One day I will relearn how to write short things #Today was not that day and tomorrow's not looking good either #By the end of this miniseries I'll have basically written a dang novel #RIP my writing hands #I will now have some chocolate as a reward #Fun Fact: I know I'm finished editing when I reach what I call the 'fuck it phase'#Which is when I'm sick of looking at the dang thing #So here it is!!#This is why it's hard to leave tumblr - not a lot of other sites let you drop huge blocks of text like this

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sweetprfct · 6 days ago

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Bookshop Conversations

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: A meet-cute with Joe at a bookshop cafe was something you didn't expect. Being a lone wolf for a year now and still being haunted by your past, could you open up your door for him and give love another chance?

Author's Note: I have been staring at a blank page for more than a couple of months, almost every day. Wrote unfinished one shots and series and then scrap it up and toss it in the bin. Been going through a really dark time personally (and still is). Events of the last few days after election didn't help either. Writing is art and art always gets me through a tough time, so that's why I'm here. I haven't been updated to any news in this fandom, and I plan to stay that way. I plan on coming here and publishing and interacting through DMs and ask box about positive stuff about my fics only. This idea appeared just a couple days ago, and it started igniting back some inspiration. Am I back? The answer is: I don't know. I'm taking it slow. Let's take it slow, okay? So, here's a new short series. I've missed some of you, and I hope you enjoy this because I'm winging it with no plot notes. LMAO.

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 1.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The soft pitter patter of the rain hit the wet, glowing pavement outside. Cars passed by from time to time and people walked down the streets, holding their umbrellas above their heads. There was something about this weather that made you feel warm on the inside. Most people would feel doleful with this kind of weather, but not you. It filled you with a warm feeling that it would pool in your stomach, almost bursting and invading your veins.

It felt peaceful.

This cute bookshop cafe that stood on the corner of your street was the only place that made you feel safe lately. Autumn season was starting, and the trees were turning into their orange and yellow hues, surrounding the city of London. The string of light bulbs that hung around the bookshop cafe and the dark wooden shelves made the place feel cozy. It was almost like you were stepping into another world when you entered this place.

Claire De Lune was playing in a low volume around the shop as you picked up your cappuccino and took a sip. You have been sitting at the small table beside the window for about an hour now. Your head had been stuck in your book, your focus totally disappearing from the world around you as you indulged in a different universe.

Moving to London was something you had been thinking about for several years now and, knowing the fact that you finally made it, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. The troubles you left behind in California seemed so far away now, even if it still lived in the back of your mind. There were certain things that you still thought about, still feel the pain from the experiences, but you pushed it away. Something you seemed to be an expert on lately.

This place has been a peaceful solitude for you. It was quiet enough for you to enjoy the peace whilst reading your book, but also enough crowds for you to not be able to drown in your own deep thoughts, unlike when you were all alone in your flat.

“New book?”

You had paused from your reading and had been watching the raindrops roll down the glass window, letting your brain play the game of which raindrop was going to roll down first. Turning your attention away from the window, you looked up to see Sara, the owner of the bookshop cafe. Her light brunette hair was in a ponytail today, hazel eyes twinkling in curiosity. She was wearing her usual apron, while carrying a coffeepot in her hand.

“Um… yeah. Just got it the other day.” You smiled softly.

As much as you and Sara had a lot in common and actually had pretty good, interesting conversations, you couldn’t help but distance yourself from her. She was always kind, and her eyes always twinkled with sincerity. It wasn’t like she was the problem. It was you. You had closed yourself off too much from other people, especially strangers. As much as you would love to be friends, there was a part of you that kept hesitating.

Sara tilted her head and squinted her eyes towards the title of the book you were holding.

“Oh, Little Women.” She smiled. “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah.” You gazed down at the book cover before looking back up at her. “I have never read the book. Thought I should finally do it this time.”

Sara nodded her head in agreement. Just right before she could say something else, Sara's attention turned to the front door when it opened.

Both of your eyes caught a man with curly brown hair walking in. He was wearing a navy trench coat and carrying an umbrella. The cold breeze trailed behind him, blowing it through your hair. Sara immediately walked up towards him with a smile. You watched as she greeted him kindly and asked if there was something she could help him with.

You couldn’t help but reel in the sight of him the moment he gave her a soft smile. From the two months of you hanging out in this shop, you have never seen someone so alluring walking into the shop before. Your eyes were glued to him, and you couldn’t seem to peel them away.

“Thank you.” He murmured to Sara before disappearing between the tall bookshelves.

Looking away, you cleared your throat and felt your cheeks ignite as you tried to focus your attention back on your book. You picked up your cappuccino and took another sip when you caught sight of him again when he passed by in front of you. You looked at him through your lashes until you realized how ridiculous you must look in front of him.

His chocolate button eyes immediately caught yours, making you glance away from him instantly. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato at this point as you set your cup down on the table and focused on the book you were reading. There were a million thoughts running through your mind, cursing yourself for being so weird. He must have thought you were strange for staring at him since the moment he entered the shop.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was smirking slightly as he looked through the books in front of him. Your eyes studied the shop and there were only a couple of people hanging around, looking through the books or sipping coffee and reading their books. You couldn't help but curse at yourself mentally again for bringing so much attention to yourself in front of him.

You hated the attention, and you certainly didn’t need a stranger’s attention when all you wanted was to enjoy your book and mind your own business.

“That’s a classic.” He interrupted your thoughts.

You just now realized that you have been reading the same line in the book repeatedly because your mind was distracted by him. When you slowly gazed up at him, you saw a kind, soft smile tugging on his lips, and you swore you felt your knees went slightly weak.

“So, I’ve heard.” You replied, giving him a slight smile back.

There was no going back now.

Now that he was standing near to you, you could see the freckles on his face and his long lashes fluttering softly. A strand of curl fell perfectly on his forehead and little drops of water from the rain covered his trench coat.

Your eyes fell on the book he was holding before biting your lower lip. You have read that book because Sara had recommended it to you before, and you knew what was the text behind it. It sure made you glad that he wasn’t afraid to read things like that. The man glanced down at the book he was holding before snickering.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, biting down your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling. It wasn’t like the book was all… sex. It was about finding yourself and knowing what you want. Although, knowing the people you had before in your life, they certainly judged you for reading something like that. So, you couldn’t help but have that glued to your brain that maybe those kinds of books weren’t really everyone’s cup of tea.

“Nothing wrong with a little… erotica.” You murmured before he chuckled softly.

“I think it’s sexy.” He gave you a small smirk, studying the cover page of the book. “I’m assuming you read it before?”

“Um… maybe.” You gave him a playful smile.

He hummed approvingly, “So, tell me… Is it really just about… sex?”

He squinted his eyes at you, and you could tell he was teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you marked the page that you were reading and closed the book.

“No, it’s about the characters finding themselves and how intimacy can be in different ways other than just physical. I don’t want to spoil too much for you, though.”

He stared at the book cover again and nodded in agreement.

“I guess I’ll just have to give back a review when I finish it.” Smiling, his eyes studied you for a moment before walking away.

What did he mean by that?

You stopped yourself from getting up from your seat as he made his way towards the coffee counter. It was rare for you to encounter certain people that pull your gravity towards them. The moment he entered the shop, you felt that pull already. That micro conversation that you both just had, you already felt the spark between you two.

Letting out a small sigh, you pushed the thoughts away and told yourself that he was just a stranger.

A stranger with a nice smile.

For a few minutes, you went back to indulging yourself in your book, finishing your cappuccino before you heard the front door open. Feeling the breeze through your hair again, you glanced up to find him giving you a warm smile before walking out the door.

Accepting it, you knew it was one of those rare occasions where you would meet someone interesting and lose them forever. It wasn’t like you were interested in meeting somebody these days, but sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that it would be nice too to have a small meet-cute in a bookshop.

God, you have been reading too many books lately. It was getting in your head.

“Seems like someone has taken an interest in you.” Sara smiled, placing an apple turnover on a plate for you.

“I didn’t order this.” You shook your head, pushing the plate towards her lightly.

“Someone did for you.” Sara winked.

You turned your head to the side, side eyeing her before Sara chuckled softly at your reaction.

“That cute man just asked if you were a regular customer here.” Sara explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give out any details. Though he insisted on at least getting you a pastry.”

Staring at the apple turnover that was in front of you, you bit back a smile before looking out the window. He was gone, and you didn’t even get the chance to thank him.

You couldn’t help but wonder why he did such a gesture.

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @reoalessandra

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #bookshop conversations #sweetprfct #part one

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hellfirenacht · 1 year ago

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Wing Man Part 1

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You are sick of seeing Steve striking out, so you come up with a solution that could work for both of you.

5.5k words

Tags: Eddie Muson x reader, weirdo!reader, bestfriend!Steve

You hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. In your mind, he was still that cocky freshman who happened to be good at playing Basketball during your senior year of high school. You’d never paid much attention to sports or the popular crowd back at Hawkins High, but word had quickly spread about the new kid.

When Steve and Robin approached you to help hook them up with a job at Family Video you were skeptical at first. Robin was a no-brainer when it came to hiring. She had the experience and clearly knew her stuff when it came to movies. Steve you were more on the fence about, as he seemed less cinematically inclined but Robin had vouched for him, and you were tired of having to cover so many of Keith’s shifts. Even when he was here, Keith was basically useless, always hiding in the back.

At this point, you were desperate for any sort of help, so you hired them both.

You quickly took a liking to them- they were easy to hang out with and were able to quickly pick up on what needed to be done. Robin always knew what movies to show on the preview televisions, and Steve was quick to pick up on any busy work that needed to get done.

“I’m always willing to go the extra mile to slack off.” he’d said once, which had earned your approval. As long as shit got done, they could slack off all they wanted. You hated that ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ bullshit. It’s not like the job was especially hard either.

Eventually you and Steve started talking on the nights where the two of you would close together alone. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were good for that sort of thing, they were your slowest days. You learned that he was floundering a bit after high school, struggling to find a place in the world now that he was no longer King Steve. It was also clear by the way he talked that he was still hung up on his ex Nancy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

That was probably the reason why he kept striking out when flirting with customers. It was actually kind of sad.

“You know, I really should probably tell you to stop hitting on every cute girl that walks through that door.” you said, taking out some tapes from the VHS re-winder and putting in new ones. “People come here for movies, not to be hit on.”

It was a speech you’d given at least a dozen times over the past four months. You’d said it so many times that Steve was mouthing along the words as you said them, and you gave his arm a smack. Your heart wasn’t in it though, in truth you knew that at least half of the young women who came to Family Video were here to see Steve and flirt, which is why you were so baffled that he was striking out so hard.

He was good with customers, great even. When he first started working here he would get several numbers slipped to him between returned VHS tapes. But as the Summer months shifted into Autumn, he seemed to be running out of steam.

“I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming.” Steve said, with over-compensated confidence. “I don’t even need to think, I’m just that good at flirting.”

“Yeah, I think your charisma stat has taken a hit over these past few weeks dude.” you snorted.

“I still don’t know what that means.” Steve said. “But I have plenty of charisma!”

“You know, if you actually paid attention to what me or your children said every once in a while you’d understand us better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few months, so many freshman had come in just to bother Steve while he was working. “How is the single mom life by the way? Am I giving you enough hours to pay the bills? Do the kids need new shoes for school?”

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter.” Steve shot back, before realizing how lame that actually was then he sighed. “I think they’re doing okay. Henderson’s the only one who actively keeps up with me.”

You didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “It’s hard when they grow up.” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t put you in a home.”

Steve snorted and brushed your hand off. “Says the one older than me.” he rolled his eyes.

“See, I don’t have six kids to raise, so I’m going to stay young and fun forever, Harrington.” you teased. “You’ve got a full brood to look after. Oh look, I think I see a gray hair right there!”

You reached over to touch his hair and he swatted you away again. “Like hell there is!” he said, mild panic in his voice. You didn’t let up and kept reaching for his hair and he kept pushing you off.

“Yup, that’s a gray one, you’re about to go full Doc Brown on me before the end of the year!” You declare as he attempted to push you off.

Despite him trying to push you off, there was a smile on his face. A lot of nights ended like this with you annoying him and teasing him for his relationship with so many kids. It was endearing really.

The door to the front of the store rang and you two immediately jumped apart as a girl came in, looking to be about Steve’s age. She was pretty, and you slipped out from behind the desk to put away some movies. He really shouldn’t be flirting with the customers, you know this. But... well it was Tuesday night and you were bored and this was far more entertaining than reorganizing the movies in the back room. Less sticky too.

“Action!” You heard Steve call from up front and you moved casually between the aisles and cringed. Oh, no. He was doing the bit again. How many times have you told him that it wouldn’t work? “Oh, I’m sorry you’re so beautiful I thought you were an actress.”

You had to bite your hand to stop yourself from laughing. You couldn’t handle this, this didn’t work the first dozen times, why the hell would it work now? Steve’s voice carried easily, projecting around the video store and allowing you to hear every single word that came out of his mouth.

You listened as Steve threw everything at this poor girl. Talking himself up as some sort of cinema aficionado when you knew the last movie he rented was Star Wars for the third time to watch with Dustin. And he called you the nerd.

“So yeah, I was thinking, beautiful girl like yourself might enjoy watching this movie with some company.” Steve said, handing over the movie. The girl in question gave a polite smile and declined the movie, renting the two that she had actually came for and left.

“That... was sad, Steve.” you said, as she disappeared into the parking lot. You walked over to the counter and picked up the movie that Steve had tried to offer her. “‘The Karate Kid?’ Really? That was your big plan?”

Steve’s was leaning over the desk, bracing his hands against the side of the counter looking down. “I panicked ok?” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I used to be so good at getting any girl I wanted and now I keep blowing it.”

You felt for the guy, you really did. He’d gone from the top of the world to treading water in just a few short months. Steve had told you that he had been at Starcourt Mall the day of the fire, and you had a feeling that it affected him more than he let on. You’d seen him get rejected so many times, but he was always able to brush it off. This time it looked personal.

Well, he was your friend now, and as your friend it was up to you to help him out.

“I think you need to learn how to talk to women now that you’re not in high school anymore, Steve.” you said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The tactics you used before just aren’t going to cut it now. Welcome to “life after high school” where everything you learned over the past twelve years is socially useless.”

“Yeah? And what would you know about social skills?” Steve said. “I haven’t exactly seen you going on any dates lately either.”

“Rude, but fair.” you admitted. He didn’t mean anything mean by it, but the two of you were very much opposites when it came to how you both approached things such as your social and dating life.

Steve was interested in taking any pretty face he saw out on a date. You had not been on a date in months, and had barely tried. Steve had countless tales about his time dating in high school, you went to Homecoming stag with your friends once. Steve talked about a time where he was almost having too much sex. You shamelessly rented porn from the back room and made Steve ring you up as he rolled his eyes.

He’d asked you on a date once and you almost laughed in his face. He was good looking, in a traditional sense but not your type.After thinking about it, you decided that kissing Steve sounded too much like kissing your favorite cousin. You had politely declined and he seemed relieved.

It’s not that you didn’t have an interest in dating, you did. You had tried to explain it to Steve one night, that so many people were into being popular and caring about things that you just couldn’t. You’d tried to fit in, but your interests were just weird. You could have fun at a football game if you were with friends, but that came from the excitement of being in an excited crowd and being with people you liked. You didn’t blame anyone for it, you were glad that people could care about these things. You just wished someone could get excited about the same things that you did.

You and Steve were both fish out of water, you’d just grown used to not being able to breathe.

“Sorry.” said Steve, standing up straight again. “That was below the belt.”

“You’re a dick, but it’s fine.” you shrugged. You’d been called worse for less. “You know, I may not be the pinnacle of normalcy but I do happen to be a woman.”

“I thought you said you were the Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Steve laughed under his breath.

“Only on special occasions.” you replied. “But that’s not the point. Look, you need help getting your groove back. I’m tired of renting movies from the back. I think we could help each other.”

Steve turned to you, brows furrowed. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking we could try wing-manning for each other.” you said. “I’ll talk you up and help you not make a jackass out of yourself, and you can help me get a date too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something smart, but he closed it quickly with a tilt of his head. He looked to the side, thinking about the proposal.

“You can’t do any worse with my help.” you said. “I mean, that ‘actress’ line was bad. Really bad. Like, horrible. I don’t know why you keep using it.”

“It worked with Linda Mendelli.” Steve said defensively.

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” you said.

“She got the lead in the spring musical two years ago.”

“So your actress line worked on a high school actress once.” you laughed. “That explains everything.”

“Like you could come up with a better line!” Steve pouted.

“I can think of a million different lines that would work better than that. And I’ll share them with you, if we have a deal.” you said.

“So you want me to get you a date?” he clarified. “That’s what you want out of this?”

“That’s what I get out of this. Well, that and I can stop nearly puking when I have to listen to you come up with some weird line when a cute girl walks in. It would save me a lot of money on nausea medication.” You smirked.

Steve thought about it for a moment before looking you up and down. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re already not interested in changing anything about yourself to make this easier on me.”

“Again, that’s really rude. That is correct though, you get me a date as I am. No make-over montage, no pretending I’m something I’m not. I spent all of high school trying to be something else, and I’m done with that.” you said firmly.

Steve turned away from you, ran his fingers through his hair, and then turned back, offering his hand. “Fine, you have a deal.”

With a smile, you spat in your hand and grabbed his in a firm shake. “Deal.”

“Ew!” he jerked his hand back as you laughed. Steve wiped his hand on his pants looking disgusted. “That’s so gross, you really are giving me a run for my money.”

“Right then,” you said with an amused grin. “Let’s start with lesson one, and stop with any stupid pick-up lines to get attention.”

Over the next few weeks, in the slow times during work where there was nothing to do but dust the shelves and rewind tapes, you coached Steve on how to talk to women.

“It’s really not that hard.” you explained one night. “It really does come down to just two things; be sincere and be confident. You already have probably too much confidence coming out your ass, but the sincerity isn’t there. You keep throwing these random lines out and hoping something sticks. Fine, that works in high school but not anymore.”

“I’m always sincere about asking them on a date!” he protests. “I’m not just asking every girl I see out on a date!”

“That’s statistically incorrect but I’ll humor you.” you said, as you organized the candy shelf, restocking the skittles. “I believe it when you ask a girl out, but you’re so oblivious about them as people. Newsflash, not all girls are the same Harrington.”

“Yeah, some of them are you.” he said, leaning against the counter, having already given up on pretending to work for the night. “How many times have you seen that Rocky Horror movie now?”

“I see it once a month with my friends at the old Cenimaplex right outside town. Been doing that since I was eighteen.” you confirmed. “I’m hoping to get to be part of the shadow cast at some point.”

“See? That’s weird. Most people maybe go see it once in October.” Steve points out.

“We aren’t talking about me, Harrington. We’re talking about the type of girls you’re into. Also, don’t knock it. I plan on dragging you along this month. It’s about time you lose your virginity.” you smirked as you ripped open a box of snickers and handed him one. “Don’t tell Keith.”

He took the candy bar. “You know I’m not a virgin. I have had sex before you know.”

You shook your head, that’d be a conversation for another day. “Let’s get back to the point. You keep asking girls out but you don’t know them.”

“I get to know them when I’m on a date.” he said.

“That’s all well and good, but you need to be able to see what kind of person they are before you go on the date. Not everyone is like me and wears their personality on their sleeves.” you explained, taking your own candy of choice off the rack. “Okay so today for example. Remember the girl that came in with the brown hair and rented out Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure?” Steve nodded. “So, she also rented out The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay? And what does that have to do with anything?” Steve asked.

“It means she has a kid sibling, and is probably a burnt out older sibling.” you said. “Loves her baby brother or sister but is also very introspective and trying to figure herself out. You came on too strong with her, asking her to a high school basketball game was too high energy.”

Steve gawked at you for a moment. “I hate that you just made sense.” He rubbed his cheeks with his hands. “Shit.”

“Dude, just pay attention to whoever you’re interested in and all the pieces will fall in place.” you said. “Pay attention to the movies, what she’s saying, and if she’s giggling at you then that’s a good sign.”

“Pay attention. Right. I can do this.” he said.

Two weeks after this conversation, Steve nabbed his first date in two months. It had taken a little bit of coaching and some hyping on your end but he got a girls number and had set up a date.

Three days after that he had another date set up.

Two days after that, another three dates.

It was the start of October now, and you were decorating the store for the season. You were standing on a ladder putting up a strand of black garland while Steve held the ladder.

“So I’m taking Shannon out on Tuesday to get ice cream at the new place down the street.” Steve explained.

“We work Tuesday.” you said.

“Tuesday morning.” Steve clarified. “Then Thursday I have two dates with Amy and Marissa since it’s my day off.”

He’d been going on about this for an hour. Steve had been going on dates steadily again for at least three weeks now. It had only been a little over a month that the two of you had agreed to the deal. Now King Steve was back, and you were now subject to every detail of his romantic escapades again. You were happy for your friend, really, but sometimes you’d sneak into the back room and organize the porn just to give you a moment away from hearing about your friends new-found sex life.

It didn’t need to make sense, it just needed to work.

“Do you ever stop to sleep?” you asked, taping up the final end of garland and coming back down the ladder.

“Sometimes I sleep before I have to sneak out a window after I’ve-”

“Nope. No more words, Harrington.” you said, holding up a hand as he laughed. “I get it, I’ll give you more hours so that you can expand your condom budget. Your poor kids must feel neglected while you find them a new mom.”

“I thought you said that I was the single mom?” Steve asked as you both moved the ladder to a new spot. He handed you a bat from the box that held the Halloween decorations.

“Oh, you are. Your kids can have two moms, I’ll allow it.” you said, hopping up on the ladder again. “Hey look, I’m Ozzie Osbourn!”

Jokingly you bit at the head of the bat as Steve looked up at you as if you were insane. “...What?”

You frowned and looked down at him. “Black Sabbath?” you asked. “The guy bit a bats head off on stage?” Now he was looking at you like you were a total psychopath. “Oh come on, you didn’t hear about that? The first time it was a fake bat but then he somehow managed to grab a real bat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” Steve said, shaking his head. “What movie is Black Sabbath again?”

It was your turn to stare at him now. “How are we even friends?” you asked. “You and I don’t have a single thing in common. ‘What movie is Black Sabbath’ be so for real right now.”

“You asked me last week if the Pacers was a marathon I was going to race!” Steve shot back.

“And I stand by that, because that does NOT sound like the name of a basketball team.” You climbed higher on the ladder to hang the bat.

“You’re thinking of the Fitness Gram Pacer Test.”

“Sports!” you cried out, giving the bat a small bap to make it swing. “Movement like that means nothing to me!” you gave a pause. “Unless you’re actually going to compete. I’ll care for your sake if you’re playing. Otherwise I’m just gonna smile and nod. Give me another bat.”

Steve dug into the box again to pull out another bat for you. “So what’s Black Sabbath then?” he finally asked.

“Look at you taking my lessons to heart and asking questions about a girls interest!” You reached down and pat his hair, causing him to swat you away again with a comment about not touching his hair. “It’s a metal band.”

“I didn’t think you were into metal.” Steve said as you came back down the ladder.

“I’m into anything I like.” you said simply. “Why limit yourself, you know? If I like something I need to learn everything about it or I feel like my brain will explode.”

“You’re kind of weird.”

“I know.”

The two of you continued to decorate the store between taking care of customers. You were going a bit overboard, if you were honest. Keith had handed you a pathetic box of a few paper decorations to use, and you had gone out with your own money to buy more. If you were expected to be here to earn a paycheck you may as well get something out of it, even if it was the feeling of being surrounded by cheesy holiday memorabilia.

“So how are the kids, Harrington?” you asked, untangling a fake spiders web.

Steve sighed, messing with the candy counter. “Dustin’s doing good. He’s made a friend at school.”

“You seem tense about that.” you looked over at him. “Care to share with the class how that makes you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything about it.” Steve said, clearly defensive. “Henderson has a new cool older friend who’s into the same nerdy shit he’s into.”

Steve was so jealous, it was written all over his face. How long had he been the cool older figure in that kid's life?

“Should have taken him up on playing D&D with him.” you said with a grin. “Now your child is going to divorce you for a new dad.”

“You really need to sort out whatever metaphor you’re going to use with me and these kids.”

“Nah, gotta keep you on your toes.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh. “It’s funny you know? One minute I’m the coolest guy in the room to everyone. I was king of Hawkins High, had these kids that annoyed the shit out of me but looked up to me, and the best girlfriend I could have asked for. Then I graduated, the kids took over school, and now I’m single even after going on all these dates.”

“Yeah, life’s funny like that.” you agreed. “If it makes you feel any better I don’t think you’re super lame. You’re actually kind of an alright dude.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“...So speaking of you going on dates.” you started slowly, unsure how to bring this up.

“Right, yeah, so I said I was going out with Amy and Marissa on Thursday-” Steve started.

“No not that,” you interrupted. “Well, sort of but not really. So I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Harrington.”

Steve froze for a moment before looking up at you on the ladder. “Oh, right. So about that, I have no idea what you even like in a guy.”

“Fair enough, I have not exactly been as pro-active as you have been.” The past few weeks had been so busy with the changing of seasons and weeding out old movies that you hadn’t really had time to think about dates. You’d been stuck in a perpetual loop of work and school with the occasional odd movie night with Steve and Robin when they were free.

“So what do you like?” he asked. “If you want my help, you’re gonna have to open up about that.”

“Oh but that involves being vulnerable with King Steve of Hawkins High and that’s not exactly my style.” you sighed dramatically.

“Last week when we got together for movie night you got drunk and cried about how you got asked out to prom as a joke. Is that not opening up or being vulnerable?”

You winced and made a face. “I did that? Yikes. I’m never drinking again.” You did remember renting out Carrie with the others and crying because she had been a very relatable character in your early high school years. Things were a lot better now that you left high school, but you supposed that had struck a nerve.

“Come on, just give me something to work with. I know you’re a weirdo who obsesses over the most random things. You like Rocky Horror and anything with music. But what do you like in a guy?” Steve pressed.

You fiddled with the decoration that had been perfectly hung a moment ago, just to give you something to do with your hands. This was a very good question that you had thought about a lot.

“I guess I want someone who’s as weird as I am.” you finally said. “I’d like to at least meet someone who understood the things I cared about, or was at least willing to learn. I know I’m different, and I’m okay with being different. I want a guy who gets being like that, and won’t make me feel less for it.”

“That’s... specifically vague.” Steve said, thinking. “I was thinking more looks wise.”

“I like guys with long hair.” you said immediately.

That he could probably work with. You hopped off the ladder for the last time and he helped you pack it away in the storage closet.

Steve was thinking hard about what to do about his end of the bargain when the door rang and someone walked inside.

“Steve!” A voice called out, and your co-workers face immediately lit up and ran to the front of the store.

“Henderson!”

You watched as the two boys ran to each other, immediately going into a secret handshake that you couldn’t help but find endearing. The kids that Steve was friends with were always fun, but you had to admit that you had a soft spot for Dustin. That was a kid who knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to be it. You admired that a lot about him.

Deciding to give them a bit of space, you made yourself busy with the horror movie section, making sure that everything was in place. Lucky for you though, those two were still very much boys and you could hear every single part of their conversation.

It’s not eavesdropping if they’re that loud. Probably.

“The store looks great!” Dustin said, looking around. “You guys really went all out with the decorations, huh?”

“Yup, we just got finished. She bought most of this stuff herself.” Steve gestured to you and you gave a wave.

“Hey, Dustin!” you called out, and he waved back.

“They’ve started putting up decorations at school too, but people keep stealing them.” Dustin said. “There are at least three skeletons missing from the science labs.”

“Those aren’t decorations, Henderson. I think those are supposed to be educational.” Steve replied.

“Not when they’re wearing witches hats and cat ears.” Dustin countered. Steve shrugged in agreement.

“So is school going alright? How’s Lucas doing on the team? What about Mike?” Steve asked and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but he was absolutely a single mother to these kids. You wished that you had a way to record him so that he could see the way he was fussing over them.

“Lucas is still a bench-warmer.” Dustin said, grabbing a candy bar from the snack stand. You conveniently were too busy making sure that a copy of Sleepaway Camp was properly rewound to notice the blatant theft. “He still goes to practice every week, but he hasn’t been on the court yet. He’s been making a lot of cool and popular friends.”

There was no hiding the disdain in his voice when he said that.

“Well Basketball is the best way to secure your ranking at Hawkins.” Steve said. “I would know.”

“Yeah but it seems like he never has time to even come to Hellfire Club anymore. We’re lucky if he makes it to one or two sessions a month.” Dustin sighed. “He totally blew off me and Mike last week to go hang out with his cool new friends.”

“You know, you have an in with the popular crowd now Henderson. You could use this as a chance to be popular.” Steve pointed out.

“But I don’t want to be popular, Steve! I’m happy with the friends I have and enjoying what I like.”

“Ignore Steve, he’s stupid. Keep doing what you’re doing, kid!” you called out to them, making Dustin laugh and Steve sigh.

“Thank you.” Dustin said before turning to Steve again. “Anyway, Eddie says that conformity is overrated. He says it’s better to be a freak with a few friends than some weird version of normalcy and be miserable.”

“Right, because ‘the freak’ is so wise.” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“He is!” Dustin frowned. “You know, he’s the only person who’s been nice to me and Mike since we started school. And last session he had us-”

That was when you started tuning the conversation out. You looked up at the clock and swore, you had some work to do in the back before your shift is over.

“Steve, watch the front for me. I’ll be finishing up in the back.” you called out, and Steve only waived in response.

Once you were out of earshot, Steve held up a hand to Dustin to signal him to stop talking.

“What?” asked Dustin. “You told me that I get at least five uninterrupted minutes to talk about the campaign when we hang out.”

“Yeah, and I’ll let you have seven minutes if you help me out.” Steve said.

“Seven? An extra two minutes? Make it ten.” Dustin crossed his arms,

“Eight.”

“Deal. What do you need?”

Steve stares at Dustin for a second. He doesn’t want to ask this question, as he never had any interest in knowing anything about Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. Eddie had been a stagnant 2 years ahead of him and somehow still hadn’t graduated. Steve couldn’t comprehend being 20 and still in high school, and he almost felt bad for entertaining this thought. Then again, you had also spent an extra semester at school, so maybe that wouldn’t be a deterrent.

“I need you to tell me more about Eddie.” Steve finally managed to get out. Dustin looked like Christmas had suddenly come early.

“You want to know more about Eddie?” Dustin had a shit-eating grin on his face that Steve hated. “Since when do you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“I still don’t.” Steve said firmly. “I never have and never will understand your game. And I’m not asking about him for me, I’m asking about him for her.” He motioned to the door to the back room.

“Her?” Dustin looked at the door, as if he could see you through the flimsy wood. “Is she wanting to play?”

“I don’t know, probably? She’s made enough references to playing before. Listen, no, that’s not what this is about.” Steve sighed. “We have this deal going on. She’d help me get dates if I helped her get a date. And she followed through, and I still have no idea how to get her a date.”

“She wants to date Eddie?” Dustin had a look on his face that was a mix of surprise and confusion. “How does she know him?”

“I don’t think she knows Eddie.” Steve said. “But she wants someone weird and as much as I hate to admit it, your new friend might actually fit her criteria.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Dude, come on.”

“Fifteen uninterrupted minutes, and you let me rent an R rated movie.”

“Jesus, Henderson.”

“Deal or no deal?”

Steve turned and looked at the door that you had disappeared behind. You had been a good friend to him over the past four months, a really good friend. You and Robin had been able to keep him grounded and going after the Starcourt Fire. You’d more than held up your end of the bargain.

“Fine, deal.” Steve agreed.

Dustin smiled and seemed content. “So what do you want to know?”

Part 2

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile

#eddie munson x reader #nacht fic #wing man

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