#remember: being uncool makes you cool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sadhours · 2 years ago

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simmer down

billy hargrove x f!reader

masterlist • requests are open! • read on ao3

summary: being tommy hagan’s sister had it’s perks, but when the new kid from California catches your attention, it seems like more of a curse than a good thing

warnings: 18+ minors dni, Steve x Reader, underage drinking, partying, smut, p in v, angst, Billy is a mystery, Steve/Nancy, slow burn, forbidden romance

Being Tommy Hagan’s sister had its advantages. Your freshman year of high school, you had a guaranteed spot with the cool kids and an invite to every party. Tommy wasn’t protective by any means. You two were buddies, you and Carol were buddies and of course, you and Steve Harrington were buddies. Freshman year was a blur, until Nancy ripped Steve away from the group. Still, the three of you were determined to keep the good times rolling. Sure, you spent every single Saturday, Sunday and Monday hungover but it was worth it. You think.

Maybe you didn’t remember the parties very well but hell, you knew you’d had fun. Plus, you were lucky enough to lose your virginity to the King on your fifteenth birthday and even if he pretended you didn’t exist once he started dating Nancy, it was worth it. Okay, so you weren’t totally over Steve but you were coping just fine. Carol didn’t let you mope for long. There were too many parties to go to.

Then one day, Steve Harrington is pushed to the very back door of your mind. Perched on your brother’s car, sharing a cigarette with him and his girlfriend, a pretty blue Camaro whips through the parking lot and slides into the parking spot across from you. A small, angry redhead bolts out, slamming the door and zips up to the middle school on a skateboard. Every head in the parking lot is turned to the muscle car and the gorgeous, denim-clad, mulleted blonde motherfucker. He takes your breath away. Takes Tommy and Carol’s breath away. The guys dripping in cool. Not another person like him has stepped foot in this midwestern hell hole. The three of you can’t wait to sink your claws in him. He flicks his cigarette away, a small hint of a smirk curling his lips and your eyes follow the Marlboro as it tumbles to the ground. The fucking guy didn’t even smoke half of it. The nicotine fiend in you is tempted to snatch it up, but that’s like, super uncool.

You watch as Tina and her girls eyes linger on the stranger, practically salivating at the way his ass looks in his jeans. It must take at least ten minutes for the fucker to pull his pants up.

“Who the hell is that?” Carol wonders aloud for the group.

“One bitchin’ dude,” Tommy scoffs, an impressed tilt to his voice.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. You know this. He had an easy way about him, friendly even though he was the biggest asshole you knew. That blue Camaro is parked on the curb in front of your house. Your parents are outside, doing the yard work necessary to prepare for the cold front sweeping in. Your whole life was spent in Hawkins so you know nothing else but god, do you yearn for year long summers.

You were eager to listen to the new record you’d just bought. A quick wave to your parents and you’re opening the front door, flooded with the sound of Metallica’s The Four Horsemen. Tommy’s pulled out his only metal album to impress the new kid. The feeling in your gut isn’t new. You used to get the same excited feeling whenever Steve was over. However, this was different because Steve knew you. He watched you grow up. You’d known him since you were little. This new guy hasn’t played Barbie’s with you from the age eight to twelve.

You take a deep breath before heading towards Tommy’s room, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously, Carol is checking her nails looking bored and the blonde boy is nodding his head along to the bass line. He’s got a cigarette pinched to between his fingers and as he’s bringing the filter to his lips, he sees you.

He takes a drag, smirks and says, “Hey.”

You’ve never loved your brothers ability to make friends more.

“Hi,” you try to say in the coolest way you can.

Tommy pauses his thrashing and motions to you, “Oh, Billy! This is my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy’s sister,” he drawls.

You tell him your name, awkwardly lingering in the doorway before Carol’s tugging you inside.

“Whatcha got in the bag?” Billy asks, fingers pressing to the brown paper.

You swallow, “Uh, just a record.”

“Which one?”

You pull out the cellophane wrapped vinyl, displaying the copy of Out of the Cellar by Ratt you’d just excitedly purchased with your allowance.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Atta girl,” he cheers as he snatches it out of your hand.

The praise causes a flutter downstairs. Five minutes into meeting this fucking guy and you’re already a puddle. The excitement at impressing him is unmatched.

Billy shimmies around you, places a strong hand on your hip as he passes to stop the Metallica record and replace it with your new one. You plop down on the floor next to Carol, eyes drawing back up to Billy as he turns the volume up, cigarette hanging between his lips. He bobs his head, his earring dangling against his wispy curls and you don’t like feeling this arousal while in the same room as your brother and his girlfriend.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” Carol nudges your knee while mimics gagging herself.

Billy snorts, “What’s the deal with that guy? People kept telling me I was gonna be the new King, whatever the fuck that means.”

Tommy chimes in, “He used to be the King. We were good buddies until he started sticking his dick in the priss.”

“Steve’s nice,” you shrug. Only Carol knows what happened between the two of you and you’d sworn her to secrecy, too embarrassed to let your brother know you’d fallen for his best friend. She gives you a pointed look before rolling her eyes.

“He used to be cool, now he’s nice,” Tommy deflects, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He pulls a beer of the sixer and tosses it to you, which you fumble to catch.

You tap your nail on the tap, trying your best to rid the memories of Steve kissing you late at night from your head. You know if you glance over to Billy, they’ll dissipate but then you’ll be imagining kissing him and you don’t want that either.

“So where’d you move from?” you ask, not looking up from the beer.

Billy sits next to you with the thud, his knee knocking yours which absolutely does not shoot heat to between your legs. He lifts his can to you, indicating he’d like to cheers you. Sometimes Tommy’s friends did things like this with you and while he wasn’t protective of you, he made you promise that friends were out of the question. You could not hook up with any of them. Acquaintances were fine and while Billy was only that right now, you know Tommy wanted to be good buddies with him so you were awaiting the conversation. You were getting ahead of yourself. A cheers does not mean Billy’s attracted to you.

“California,” he replies as you clink aluminum cans. “Much better than this shithole.”

“You’re telling me,” Carol whines, “I fucking hate this place.”

Billy drops his cigarette in the empty beer can sitting in the middle of the floor, apparently the designated ashtray. He leans his head back to look at you, “What’s there to do here?”

You feel shy under his gaze, almost choking on your swig of beer once your eyes meet his. You clear your throat and swallow hard, “Uh, parties, mostly. Hang out in the woods. Go to convenience stores.”

“Ah. I expected more hick shit. Ya know, tipping cows, shooting guns, kissing cousins,” Billy chuckles, biting his lip as his eyes dart between your brother and his girlfriend.

“Carol knows about kissing cousins,” Tommy sneers, throwing his girlfriend under the bus.

“Do you have to tell everyone?” she hurls a rolled up sock at him. She turns to Billy, “He’s exaggerating. We’re not even blood related.”

Billy laughs, a cackle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but giggle. You’d heard the story a million times. Carol was at a family reunion and didn’t even realize the guy was a distant cousin. However, shit, it’s a family reunion. Who’s trying to get their rocks off at a family reunion?

“You guys smoke grass?” Billy changes the subject and the three of you nod in unison. “Know where I can get some?”

“Eddie “The Freak” Munson,” Tommy tells him, “I think I have some, though. Hold you over in the meantime.” He gets up and sifts through his sock drawer, returning with a tied off ziploc bag to hand to Billy.

“And now,” Billy takes it and shoves it in his pocket, “We’re best buds.”

Tommy beams at the declaration. And with those words, Billy Hargrove has just become verboten. Damn it.

Tommy tells you as much when Billy leaves, rattling off about his dad being an asshole and he’s got to get home before he does.

“I saw those eyes,” Tommy raises a scolding finger at you, “Don’t even try it. He’s too cool.”

“Aw, Tommy,” Carol pouts, “Let her have some fun.”

“No,” you raise your hands defensively, “You didn’t see any eyes. I don’t even think he’s cute.”

Tommy scoffs, “Yeah, right. Even I think the guy is hot.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, “You going queer on me, big boy?”

“Me? Queer?” Tommy laughs, “Let me show you how untrue that is.”

“Okay, ew, I’m leaving,” you push yourself off the ground and run out of the room, closing the door behind you.

;;;

“Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?” Billy asks you, taking a drag off his cigarette before passing it.

You take it and try to ignore the tingling feeling on your lips as you take a hit. You’re leaning against the trunk of his Camaro, Carol and Tommy are nearby but too busy making out to listen to the conversation.

“I guess?” you reply, “All the parties here kind of bleed together. They’re fun and all, just… the same thing.”

Billy looks over to your brother with his tongue down Carol’s throat, “They do that all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” you shrug.

“What about you?” he turns slightly towards you, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

You can feel the way your cheeks redden, “I don’t know. No one’s really caught my attention, I guess.”

“Is he protective?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite. Tommy doesn’t give a shit what I do. I just haven’t met anyone I like in that way.”

“Yeah,” Billy muses, “I know the feeling.”

That catches your attention. Every girl at Hawkin’s High is throwing themselves at him but not a single one special enough to tickle his fancy. You included.

“I’m young, anyways,” you deflect, “I have plenty of time to find the man of my dreams.”

“Oh, yeah?” Billy digs his canine into his lower lip, “What’s the motherfucker you’ve dreamed up like?”

You, you don’t say. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“You’ve thought about it. Is he nice, like King Steve?” Billy raises his eyebrows, “Is he a freak like Munson?”

No, he’s blonde with a mullet and pretty eyelashes.

“He hasn’t made himself known yet,” you urge, “Maybe he’s a millionaire, maybe he’s a rockstar.”

“You want Vince Neil?” he knocks he elbow into yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you shrug.

Billy cackles, “All you chicks are the same.”

You scoff, “Oh and guys aren’t? Like you’re not pining over Lita Ford.”

“Nah,” he laughs, “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing then?” you ask, eyes meeting briefly before you can’t handle the heat of them. Billy’s eyes are too pretty. The bluest you’ve ever seen.

“Someone real,” he says, sincerely and it tugs your heartstrings.

“Billy, the romantic,” you tease, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Far from it, sweetheart,” he pats your shoulder before pushing himself off the bumper and heading into the building as the bell rings.

Sweetheart drips down your throat and curls around your heart.

;;;

It’s not much of a costume. It’s a short skirt, fishnets and a too tight top. You can say you’re Madonna but how many girls are going as Madonna. You just want to look hot. Want Billy to look at you like you’re more than Tommy’s little sister. Like you’re some video vixen and he just cannot keep his hands to himself. It’s a flourishing thought that you push deep down. Tommy can’t control you but you think of the conversation you’d hand the day before. Billy isn’t into you. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t. And one thing you’ve learned about boys your age is if they want it, they’ll make it known.

“Are you ready yet?” Carol’s asking as she peers into your bedroom. You scan her outfit up and down, you think maybe she’s channeling Madonna as well but you can’t pin exactly what she’s dressed as.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, fixing the smeared lipstick.

“Yeah, just about,” you mumble, reapplying your mascara.

“Billy’s meeting us there,” she sings, grinning wide at you in the mirror.

You roll your eyes, “Carol, he’s off limits and even if he wasn’t, I don’t like Billy like that.”

“Sure,” she purrs, slapping the doorframe, “Vamoose, pretty girl. I wanna get wasted.”

Tommy’s a bad driver. He was also drinking before he left so he’s even worse, by the time you get to the party you feel like you’ve already got the spins. You hold onto Carol’s wrist to ground yourself and Billy’s rushing up behind the two of you.

“Boo!” he shouts, pressing a hand to your lower back.

Carol shrieks but you’d seen him coming. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling the two of you two his chest. He reeks of whiskey and Marlboro Reds. Seems like Billy had a bit of pregaming himself.

“Hi, Billy,” the two of you sing in unison.

Tommy barrels around the car, running up from behind to jump onto Billy’s back which causes all of you to tumble to the ground. Carol screams, scolding Tommy about ruining her hair but you’re distracted by the laugh erupting from Billy, his lips so close to your ear you can feel his breath fanning against it. It makes you tingle all over and you desperately want to grab him and pull him closer, want to press your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Then it’s gone, he’s up from the ground with Tommy pulling him towards the keg and Carol’s reaching her hand down to you.

You stumble along with her and when you’re reaching the keg, Billy’s pumping it and filling cups for you and Carol.

“You’ve got to beat Steve’s record, Billy! Come on,” Tommy urges his friend, hands clasped tight around his shoulders.

You stand over by Carol and Tina, watching the way the brunette fucks Billy with her eyes. A pang of jealousy surges through your stomach but you chug from the red Solo cup to drown it out. You sway along with the Motley Crüe song, unable to stop your eyes from scanning the crowd for familiar chestnut hair and brown eyes. Carol must notice because she grabs your face and turns it to look at Billy. She wants you to get over Steve just as badly as you do. You notice Billy’s costume, you think he’s going for terminator but it’s laid back. An homage rather than a costume. His abs look nice, you imagine what they must feel like. Carol’s a good friend.

They lift Billy up, he bites around the tap and makes eye contact you for a brief second before beer is flooding into your mouth. He easily beats Steve’s record. Seems like he could’ve gone longer but the second he beats it, they’re pulling him down. He spits the foam out, beer dripping down his chin to his chest and it’s… a sight. They funnel inside but you stick by Carol.

“God, he’s so yummy,” Tina gushes, turning to you and Carol.

Carol agrees excitedly, winks at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Tina.

“What? Did you call dibs already?”

“God, no,” you say, a little too defensively. “I just have eyes and Carol wants to live vicariously through me. It’s not happening.”

“Well, I’m definitely not holding back,” Tina quips.

You imagine the two of you as cats, tails high and backs arched, ready to pounce.

“Go for it,” you shrug, holding your beer close to your chest.

You retreat first, heading inside in search of a better time. A spiked punch is in your future. It’s only slightly dampened when you see Nancy downing cup after cup in the kitchen, Steve upset and asking her to cool it. He doesn’t even notice your presence and that’s totally fine. You’re a fly on the wall like you usually are around him. Steve reaches for her cup again and they struggle for power until the force of their hands pulls the cup back and spills the sticky red punch all over her white sweater. Everyone reacts in shock and you have to still your mouth from the smile threatening against your lips as you quickly avert your attention.

When they flutter away, you copy Nancy. Downing as many cups as you can before you start to feel numb. Seeing Steve was a shock to your system. All prior feelings rush to the forefront of your brain and you want to find him, pull him into a empty bedroom and kiss him from head to toe. It’s a shame when you see him and Nancy lock themselves away in a bathroom. You linger, clutching your drink to your chest as you watch drunk teenagers dance the night away. Nancy doesn’t deserve Steve. He shouldn’t have to change to be with her. You liked Steve the way he was.

Steve opens the door and slams it behind him, he pushes passed out, shoulders colliding and when he turns to look at you, you notice tears in his eyes. The brunette is quick to swivel back around, stomping outside and you wonder what in the hell just happened in there. Half of you is tempted to follow him outside, offer comfort in whatever way you can but then you feel large, strong hands wrap around your waist. You tilt your head back to see Billy standing behind you with a drunk smile plastered on his face, his eyes are tinted red like he’s been smoking more than cigarettes.

He leans down, lips close to your ear so he can whisper, “Why are you hiding from us?”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding,” you argue, lifting your cup to explain further, “Where is everyone?”

“Backyard,” he smirks, releasing his grip and stumbling towards the sliding glass door.

He turns his head briefly to make sure you’re following him.

Tina’s backyard is trashed. You can’t imagine what the cleanup is going to be like tomorrow. As soon as you step out the door, Billy grabs your hips again and urges you to the left. You look down and see what looks like five smashed beer bottles, right outside the door. You mumble a thank you before wiggling out of his grip. The last thing you need is for Tommy to see it. The blonde guides you over to the group and you collapse down next to your brother and Carol.

“Steve and Nancy just got in a fight,” you tell them before bringing your cup to your lips.

Carol raises her eyebrows and leans closer, giving you a look you know all too well. You quickly shake your head, slouching your shoulders and trying to sink away from her gaze. Tommy lets out a cackle, leaning his body back with it.

“We heard, he threw punch on her?”

“Well, no, he didn’t throw it on her, it just spilled,” you explain, watching in your peripheral how Tina leans her body against Billy’s and whispers in his ear. Immediately, your stomach turns but you ignore it. There’s no way you could be jealous, you don’t even know the guy yet and you’re going to make sure you don’t stew on how attractive he is. You know how mad Tommy will be and besides, your brother isn’t exactly loyal to you. You imagine if you did make a move on Billy and he rejected you, Tommy wouldn’t stop hanging out with him. Or god forbid, he doesn’t reject you but instead breaks your heart and Tommy would still pick Billy’s side. You know this about your brother.

“But they went into the bathroom and I guess argued, because Steve came storming out and he looked like he was crying,” you continue, picking at a loose thread on your skirt.

Tommy snorts, “I knew they wouldn’t last long.”

Carol nods along with him, “She’s too prissy for Steve. I bet the argument was something stupid too.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, allowing yourself to turn slightly and just in time to catch Tina shoving her tongue down Billy’s throat. You’re quick to turn back to your brother and Carol.

“You guys wanna leave soon?” Carol asks, you know she’s trying to be casual but only asking to save you the displeasure of watching Billy and Tina make out for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, I’m pretty over it,” you admit, stretching your arms up.

Tommy scoffs, “You guys are so boring. It’s still early.”

It is, you don’t even feel drunk yet but you are bored and too many unpleasant feelings are swirling around you. If you get any more alcohol in you, you’re libel to throw yourself at Steve, or worse, Billy.

“This party kind of blows, though,” Carol argues and wraps her arms around Tommy, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said has him grinning and jumping to his feet. You’d rather not know.

;;;

You’re sitting in study hall, trying to stay awake when a note lands on your desk. You turn and see Steve failing at trying to look innocent, he fake coughs in his hand while stretching his opposite arm up and then back down. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quickly looks away, a hint of smile on his lips. You unfold the note and see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled lopsided on the top of the page.

Wanna listen to my Abba record?

You stare at it a little dumbfounded, because it was an inside joke between the two of you. It was his lame way of trying to get you alone at one of his parties. It was only the second time you guys had ever messed around and as your relationship continued, it became something Steve would say just to make you blush or laugh. Worse, though, it turned into a code for sneaking away to hook up. His fight with Nancy must’ve been more serious than you thought. This was Steve’s olive branch, and it was sleazy but it was also romantic, unfortunately.

You write back in neat, straight handwriting, Right here in study hall?

You carefully slide the paper onto his desk and turn back to your textbook. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve grinning wide as he reads what you’ve wrote before furiously writing and handing it back.

Is that a yes?

It’s a maybe. I don’t think Mr. Delfin would appreciate it.

Fair enough. The albums at my house anyway. After school then?

You chew on your bottom lip. It would be very easy to fall back into this but you have plans with your brother, Carol and Billy. However, the prospect of being alone with Steve seems way more appealing. And you can’t help yourself, you think about Steve more than you think about anything else. You absolutely miss touching him and you’ve been rather frustrated since he started going out with Nancy.

Meet me in the library after school.

;;;

You made some dumb excuse to Carol about having to work on a class project in the library. She bought it but tried to insist on you ditching it entirely to get to know Billy better. Which you knew Carol was aware you wouldn’t go for.

When Steve walks up to you, you’re standing at the window. He leans against the wall and looks at you quizzically.

“Whatcha doing?”

You watch as Tommy and Carol pile into his car and drive off, the blue Camaro following after them and you say to Steve, “Just making sure it’s… safe. Okay, let’s go.”

Steve let’s out a scoff, “Don’t want them to see you with me?”

You crane your head sideways as you look up at him, “I’m ditching them for you. They’d be mad.”

Steve nods his head, pursing his lips like he can taste your words. You keep your hands to yourself on the walk to his BMW, you’d learned to do as much when you guys were fooling around. Steve talks a lot on the drive to Loch Nora. None of it really makes much sense, or is important but you like listening to his voice. It’s adorable, he stutters every so often and rambles on, losing his thought and then rushing into a completely new thought. The reason you like it so much is you’ve seen Steve hit on girls throughout the years and weirdly enough, this is how he does it so you feel special when it’s directed at you.

His house is empty, it usually is but what always shocked you was how clean it was. A teenage boy lived there alone for eight months of the year, you expected it to be messy but then again, you’re sure they have a cleaning lady coming often. Steve leads you up the stairs and to his bedroom. It smells clean, like laundry detergent and his cologne. Your stomach is doing flips at the familiarity of it all, you’ve been in this exact position many times before and you’re anticipating his next moves. As you sit on his bed, Steve wraps his hand around your hip and lays you on your back. You shyly smile up at him, the weight of his body makes you tingle all over and his big, brown eyes look into yours. There hasn’t been a night in months that you haven’t pictured this exact moment happening, ushering you to sleep and hopefully dream of Steve.

He pushes tucks your hair behind your ear as he cracks a smile, teeth bright and white while his cheeks flush just a smidge. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him but him and Nancy have only been broken up a couple of days, you know what this is. That’s your downfall, though, you’ll bend over backwards to have Steve. When his lips caress yours, a small moan rises up your throat involuntarily. It’s a soft, sweet kiss and he gently holds your cheek as he does it. Your fingers snake into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss. Steve takes things slow, he always did and you’ve always been bursting at the seams, eager for more. You drag your tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance and he allows you easily. Your body lights up, feels like you’re on fire when he grinds just barely on top of you. His thigh between your legs presses against your center and it makes your head feel heavy, falling apart beneath him. Steve’s like a drug and you’ve been sober for far too long. Your desperation makes you feel antsy, you want things to progress much faster than they are but Steve is stubborn, he sets the pace. He’s different than any other man you’ve been with, he’ll kiss you until your jaw hurts and you’re trembling. That seems to be his intent now because when you try to pull away from it, he grabs your jaw and kisses you harder. You whimper against his lips, wriggling your hips to demonstrate how badly you need him.

Steve pulls back and smiles down at you, stroking his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

You flush, grinning from ear to ear as you avert your eyes, unable to hold eye contact. With a giggle you tell him, “So are you.”

He lets out a small, breathless laugh, “Thank you.”

Steve places kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he licks against your skin but he’s always been careful not to leave any marks. Back when you two were fooling around regularly, you weren’t so careful with him and you’d litter his neck and chest with love bites. Steve could always explain them away much easier than you could.

He continues kissing against your collarbone as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You inhale sharply, goosebumps rising all over your skin when his fingers brush against your now exposed stomach. Steve’s lips descend once he gets your blouse completely undone, brushing them against the curve of your breast. This is the area he doesn’t hold back, sucking and biting gently at the tender skin until it’s raw and sore. You know you’ll have a bruise there by the end of the night but you don’t mind. It’ll be proof this isn’t a dream. In sync, you prop up on your elbows as Steve leans back and reaches around to unclasp your bra. You dispose of the blouse and bra before reaching for the hem of Steve’s polo and pull it over his head. You smooth your hands over his head before he leans down and licks at your perked nipple, his Bambi eyes looking up at you curiously. You whine, arching into the touch as your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you picture blonde curls and blue eyes but quickly push the thought away as shame begins spreading through your stomach. You try not to think about it too much, not willing to admit even to yourself that you want Billy in that way.

“Steve,” you pant out, for good measure.

He sucks your nipple between his lips as he hand moves to squeeze and knead at your other breast. Another moan falls out of your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and knit your fingers into his hair. He grazes his fingertips across your neglected nipple and laps against the other. It’s intoxicating, you focus on his soft his hair feels between your fingers. Your thighs tingle as heat surges through your stomach and straight to your core. It’s quiet in the house, in the room, the only sound is Steve’s mouth on your and your paired labored breathing.

When he moves back up to crash his lips into yours and press his body close, you feel his cock hard in his jeans against your navel. He grunts softly against your lips moving both his hands to grip your jaw as he licks into your mouth eagerly. This is unlike Steve, he usually doesn’t express desperation until he’s already inside of you. It gets your hopes up, like maybe he’s been missing you just as badly as you’ve been missing him. And maybe that’s wishful thinking but in this moment, you’ll take it. You grab onto his waist and writhe up against him, letting him know you’re just as needy.

Steve pulls back from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as his hands lower and he’s making quick work getting your jeans and panties down to your ankles. They hang awkwardly there, your tennis shoes are still on but you're really liking the frenzy of it all. Steve props himself on his knees and does the same with his jeans and briefs, pushing them down to his knees as his long cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. God, you’ve missed the sight of it, your mouth waters as you breathe heavy. Memories of the way it felt in your mouth flood your mind, causing your hips to jerk up in arousal and Steve smiles down at you, clearing taking the movement as a compliment. He circles his hand around himself, pumping a few times before dragging his head through your folds.

“Steve…” you moan out slowly, another surge of wetness flowing out of you.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look glassy. It’s such a pretty view, you wiggle against him.

“Need you,” you admit, shyly.

He licks against his bottom lip before rubbing his tip against your fluttering hole, “You been with anyone else since me?”

You shake your head, knowing the reason behind his question, “I’m clean.”

Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the movement before he sinks his cock inside of you. You gasp out, grabbing onto his bedspread while you melt at the sensation. It’s been way too long. You’re tight, haven’t had anything stretch you out since the last time you had Steve like this. He grunts softly, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly sheathes himself completely inside you.

“Oh,” you moan out, feeling him fill you out in the most delicious way. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to watch the way Steve’s face contorts in pleasure as he stills his movements. He grazes his fingers up your sides as he lowers himself, his chest flush against yours while his lips find yours again. The kiss is languid, matching the stroke of him between your legs. It’s sensual which is typical from Steve but a stark contrast to the short foreplay. It takes your breath away, regardless. He pulls back an inch, panting against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper, running his hand down to hold onto your hip.

You try to spread your legs further, but the clothing around your ankles makes it difficult. Your hands scratch down his back and you arch your back, moving your hips to chase your high. Steve grunts out and then bites his bottom lip hard, moving his hips faster and more wildly than before. It’s exactly what you need as the pressure building inside you is pulled taut, you’re so close you can almost see it.

“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine out and he makes a pretty, needy sound that has you reeling. It was the type of sound that was the reason you’d always loved going down on Steve.

He rocks his hips into you harder and faster, pulling out little breathy moans from you as you cling onto his back.

“You like that?” he pants out, his hair bouncing with every thrust and you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowing as your orgasm looms closer and closer.

You press your palm against his cheek and he kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands up and down your sides as he moves against you. The kiss pushes you over the edge, a sharp cry flooding out of you as you climax around him, your walls fluttering around his dick and Steve starts making the familiar sounds, desperate and whiny little noises. He pulls out of you quickly, spilling his load over your stomach with a strangled groan. You hum happily, eyes dancing across his gorgeous face. He stuffs himself back in his pants and walks over to his hamper, grabbing a shirt and walking back over to wipe his mess from your navel. He pants as he does it and when he moves away again to dispose of the shirt, you pull your clothes back on.

“You want me to just drop you at home or back at school?” he asks, his eyes everyone but on you.

“Home is fine,” you say, trying to hide the way your heart is splitting yet again from Steve Harrington.

The car ride there is awkward and when you’re a block away, you notice Tommy and Billy’s cars parked on the street.

“Just drop me here,” you say softly and Steve pulls over. As you get out, he leans over and grabs your wrist. You kneel down and lean back in the car. He kisses you gently and then smiles awkwardly at you.

“I’ll see you later,” you say before shutting the door and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

You walk up to the front door, noticing as Steve makes a u-turn and heads back in the direction of Loch Nora. Tears are threatening to break free but you will them back down, stepping inside the house and waving at Tommy, Billy and Carol as they’re lounged on the couch, watching music videos. You close yourself in the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair down and fixing your makeup. Once you feel you’ve calmed down enough, you make your way back out to the living room and very nicely ask Billy if you could bum a smoke.

“I’ll join ya,” he says, standing from the couch.

Tommy moves to follow but Carol grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, leaning close to whisper something and he looks like he’s about to protest until she starts kissing his neck. You make a face and lead Billy out the back door. You sit down on the plastic furniture and graciously accept the cigarette he hands over. Billy pulls out his zippo and lights it for you. Seeing him, unfortunately, eases the way your heart aches. Deep down, you know Billy would do the same thing Steve just did to you but you try not to focus on that. You feel ridiculous that you thought things might be different this time. It’s obvious that you’ve always been an easy lay to Steve and it hurts that you’re still that.

“How was the library?” he asks as he lights his own cigarette.

You shrug, “Really exciting at first, until it sucked.”

“So what’s his name?” Billy asks, smirking up at you as he exhales the thick smoke.

You blush, dropping your head before replying, “That obvious, is it?”

Billy lets out a big, belly laugh. It’s a nice sound, you want to make him laugh over and over.

“I can always tell when a woman’s had an orgasm,” he quips, sliding his tongue out almost obscenely along his lower lip. It’s insane how quickly he’s making you feel better, no matter how blunt he is.

“Yeah, well, his name isn’t important because the whole thing,” you gesture your hands in big circles, “wasn’t important to him.”

Billy inhales sharply, gritting his teeth, “Well… speaking from experience… ‘cause I am one so.. yeah, all guys want the same thing.”

You curl your lips down in a frown as you chew over his words, deciding you’re not much better than Steve because you went along with it for the same reasons. You wanted to fuck him and shit, you got that.

“Sometimes,” you giggle softly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips, “Girls are after the same thing.”

The blonde laughs again and you wanna breathe it in, wanna taste his laughs and his lips and his whole body. He’s different than Steve, physically rougher around the edges which makes him that much more interesting. Exotic maybe. His hair doesn’t look nearly as soft as Steve’s, not nearly as cared for. You’d seen the Farrah Fawcett spray in Steve’s bathroom and you can guarantee Billy doesn’t use the same thing.

“I’ve seen my fair share of that,” he agrees, “but I think a big difference is once guys have it once, they don’t want it again but girls do.”

“Or they want it again when it’s easy,” you point out, reaching over to snatch the beer from his hand and taking a big gulp from it.

“Beware of those assholes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at you seriously.

You groan softly, “I was trying to stay away from him.”

“Who is it?” Billy asks, curiously. “I won’t tell.”

“But you so will,” you gush, bringing your hand to your face, “It’s premium gossip.”

“You think I’m that type?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

You turn to him, “This is juicy. It’s be hard not to tell people.”

“What? Harrington?”

Willing your face to remain still, “No.”

Billy scoffs, “King Steve. No way. That is something.”

“It’s not Steve,” you seethe, though you know your face is giving it away.

He chuckles softly and grabs the beer back, “Your secret is safe with me but uh… you could do better.”

Billy gets up from the chair, tossing his cigarette before walking back inside.

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy x steve x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x hagan!reader #simmer down

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onlyyvette · 1 year ago

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★ DAY 1 - nipple play | chris redfield

kinktober 2023 - masterlist.

warnings: top/dom reader + sub/bottom chris + male reader + nipple play + dacryphilia + nipple clamps + vibrators + cumming untouched + chris is called "princess" + and his pecs are often called tits + he pretends to not like it + but fails

a/n: I'm really happy about how this turned out, considering how its my first re smut ^-^ I just hope I'll have the dedication to finish this series...

Your hands roamed Chris' wide chest, adoring the firm yet plushness of his pecs as you traced small scars littered about. His chest- no, his tits, were so soft and pillowy, the moment you saw them bare you just wanted to feel him up so badly. The way he was positioned, sitting in your lap with his front gave you a perfect view of his tits, close enough for you to push your face into. Fuck, your boyfriend was hot.

"Nnhh..." Chris' brows were furrowed, watching you grope his tits through lowered lids. This was the only part of his body apart from his ass that got him embarrassed whenever you teased it. His chest has always been so sensitive, especially since he started building up muscle. He swore his nipples have grown a bit in size. Chris' chest was so full that whenever he wore tight shirts, his tits looked like they were about to burst out and it so so damn attractive to you.

"I can't get enough of of these princess," you tease, making sure to pinch one of his nipples. "Mhn! H-how about you look away then," Chris grumbled, faking annoyance. You didn't miss the way he shivered at the nickname. "No way," you smirked and latched onto one of his buds with your mouth. "Ah!" Chris' eyes widen tries his best to stifle the adorable sound that comes out of him when he feels your mouth on him. Immediately, you began sucking on his nipple- hard.

"S-shit...nggh...hahh, [name]!" Chris whines as you continue your harsh ministrations. Not only do you suck on his nipple, you also leave bites on the bud and the areola surrounding it. You know that Chris is especially weak to biting and you take full advantage of it. "Ungh, [name], anh!" While Chris wants to think he won't cum yet, but he's starting to feel like you might force an orgasm out of him with your pace. In just a moment, you swiftly pulled away from Chris' tit, leaving a thin trail of saliva and a confused pout of your boyfriend's face.

"You remember those toys we bought the other day?" Chris still looks a bit dumbfounded but finally remembers and slowly nods his head. "You wanna use them today?" Well fuck, you sounded overeager and so not cool. But luckily, Chris was the same as you. "Fuck yeah. Definitely." Okay you probably sounded more uncool. But those thoughts left your mind when you saw Chris' face, the way his eyes were blown wide with lust at the idea of putting those new toys to use. You turned to your left and reached under your bed to fish out a small black box. You opened it up and took out its contents: a bullet vibrator and one nipple clamp.

"Why only one?" Chris' voice almost sounded a bit slurred when you first heard him. "I though it was obvious. It's easier for me to suck without it in my way." Chris blushed even harder at how casually you talked about sucking on his chest, like it was just sucking on some candy. You first brought the clamp to his nipple you had already been sucking on and noticed it was a little red and puffy, small bite marks surrounding it. The moment you fasten it, Chris lets out a yelp, jerking harshly as he feels his nipple being overstimulated. "Unghh...shit," your boyfriend's breathing becomes heavy and ragged, and you're sure you can see tiny tears prick at his eyes.

With a mean grin, you switch on the vibrator and push it up to his other untouched nipple. "HnNGGH---" Chris clenches his teeth hard as he reels back from the intense pleasure he's feeling. His moans begin to freely pour out as he squirms, unable to escape the intense vibration and the constant pleasurable pain of having his nipple trapped. He cries out and wraps his muscular arms around your neck. Unable to resist, you pull him into a deep kiss, forcing your tongue down his throat as you ravage him, swallowing down his pitiful moans.

Chris' tears flow freely as he tries his best to grind his leaking cock onto you, only for you to push him back with firm hands on his hips. Even if he could push you off, he didn't, deciding to let you move him in any way you deemed fit. You sigh into his mouth as you open your eyes a bit to watch the tears roll down his cheeks. Despite feeling your dick cry out for attention, you decided to ignore it to be fully in the moment with your boyfriend. Besides, you felt like you were going to be able to get off just by watching him.

"Mnghh! Nnhh, mhh, NghGHH!" Chris continues to sob as his head begins to feel a little too light. You felt his arms tighten around your neck and you could tell he was close. Right as Chris could feel that coil in his stomach unravel, you pulled away from his soft lips and removed the vibrator from his nipple. "W-wh..." Chris couldn't even find his words, still trembling as hot puffs of air leave his mouth. His skin is glistening with a layer of sweat, his lips kiss-swollen and tears are still falling down his face, the image created sending a violent throb to your ignored dick. Just as quickly as you got rid of his source of pleasure, you once again latched onto his nipple and tug on the nipple clamp, finally twisting it a brutally ripping it off of Chris' nipple.

It took him a second to register the heavy mix of pleasure and pain, his eyes rolling back as he cums with a loud keen. His cum splatters on the both of you considering your close proximity, some of it getting on your chest while most of it reached his own, creating a perfect picture. You bring back your face to his, mouthing at his lips and swallowing up his small whimpers from the aftershocks of his orgasm. You wrap one arm around your boyfriend's waist and bring him closer to you, the other going to his head to rub at his hair to calm him down. As Chris' trembling becomes less and less violent and his breathing less ragged, you keep in mind his reaction to the use of those toys on his tits- you were definitely going to use those again.

#vetty's works. ✿#vetty's thirsts. ✿#vetty's kinktober. ✿#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #top reader #dom reader #top male reader #dom male reader

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spectralscathath · 13 days ago

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Tour Guide to the Unexplained- a Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 8- Still Waters

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a weird historical festival, not being a strange lady who lives in the junkyard, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

“Fish-ing day! Fish-ing day!” Stan and Ford chanted in the back of the truck, Stan’s left hand now stuck in both a sling and a bright red cast that had Ford’s neat cursive and Dipper’s messy scrawl signed on it. He’d printed his own name in block letters as well, and he was going to make sure he got all sorts of signatures. Jimmy and Carla for sure, definitely Dan, he supposed he could allow Ford’s cool nerd friends to sign it if they asked, and hopefully Soos and Dolores as well. Last time he broke his wrist, no one but Ford signed his cast, but this time would be different.

“Yunno, Granpa showed me how to put a hook on a line with my eyes closed,” Stan bragged.

“He showed me how to make a fishing lure,” Ford bragged louder.

“I’m sure you both have lots of fishing skills to teach me,” Dipper, despite his claims that he hadn’t ever fished, had managed to pull out a solid fisherman’s outfit, overalls and waders and even a beanie. He’d mumbled something about a cursed lighthouse when they’d pressed him on it.

“Yes we do.” Stan looked out the window as they drove into town to buy some fishing gear, but something seemed off. “Is that a covered wagon?”

“What?” Ford scrambled to look out his own window, voice growing increasingly worried. “Grunkle Dipper?”

“Oh, it’s Pioneer day. I totally forgot.” Dipper drove around a cow and pulled into a space on the side of the road. “Yeah, this is the anniversary of Gravity Falls’s founding, so everyone dresses up and does historical activities. It’s kinda fun, what do you think?”

“This looks stupid.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Grunkle Dipper, those costumes are historically inaccurate!” Ford sounded like he was about to have a breakdown.

“Okay, no Pioneer day.” Dipper shrugged before he pulled out his wallet and handed them five dollars each. “I still need to go get fishing gear, so how about you two get yourself some old-timey candy and we’ll meet back at the car in, say- half an hour?”

“What? You’re leaving us alone with the hicks?”

“They’re using modern breeds of chickens for their re-enactments, this is terrible.” Ford sounded faint.

Dipper got out of the driver’s seat, reached into the back, and dragged them out by the jackets, setting them on the sidewalk before he locked the car doors. “Go on, try candle-dipping or something. Museum’s free entry if that’s your style. Half an hour.”

“Half an hour,” Stan grumbled and scuffed his shoe against the pavement.

Dipper smiled and patted them both on the head before walking off, leaving Stan and Ford surrounded by covered wagons and people being silly in costumes. It was so uncool.

“... wanna get some old-timey butterscotch?” Stan shrugged.

“Yeah, okay. I still think everyone’s using fabric that’s way too modern- that lady’s got a zipper showing, for crying out loud.”

Ford picked up Stanley’s discarded butterscotch wrappers as he followed his twin, his own pockets full of candy. Stanley kept opening the butterscotch wrappers with his teeth instead of just getting Ford to do it or doing it one-handed. He was so strange sometimes.

“Nope, this whole thing is still lame,” Stan announced after they did a circuit of the main activities.

“Yep,” Ford agreed without hesitation. “I don’t think the pioneers should be celebrated very much either, I researched the Donner party.”

“Ugh. I remember you telling me about that. And you think I’ve seen gross things.”

“You told me you once saw a seagull get stuck in the freshwater taffy.”

“And it was one of the greatest things I’d ever seen.”

“Ewwwwww,” Ford laughed and had more butterscotch. “Wonder what that crowd’s about?”

“Let’s go see.” Stan thumped his shoulder, Ford giggling and returning the favour. Not to the arm in the cast, obviously, but the rest of Stanley was totally fine.

They darted through to the front of the crowd, arriving at a stage in front of a stone statue of a guy who Ford felt had a very punchable face. A man sat in a chair in front of the statue with a creepy grin, and a kid with dark hair walked up to the microphone in a fur hat and suit that was obviously English Victorian- not Western Frontier.

The kid reached up to the microphone stand and lowered it, tapping it a few times to make that awful feedback sound before he spoke. “Hello, everyone. I’m Preston Northwest, richest nine-year-old in Gravity Falls, and also great-great-grandson of our town founder. Go Northwests! We’re super rich and fancy!”

The crowd clapped and Ford shared a look with Stan. “He talks a little like the-”

“Sibling brothers, yep.” Stan scowled. “Snooty.”

“Wait-” there was something important about the name ‘Preston Northwest’. “Isn’t this one of Grunkle Dipper’s enemies?”

“Maybe?” Stan chewed his butterscotch seriously. “Why do people like him bragging about being rich?”

“Do you have the Pioneer spirit?” Preston’s eyes scanned the crowd before landing on Ford and Stan. Ford immediately shoved his hands in his pockets to hide his six fingers. He hoped he did it fast enough.

Preston scowled, nose wrinkling in disgust. It was a common expression aimed at the Pines twins. “Uh- you guys don’t have any Pioneer spirit. Where’s your costumes?”

The entire crowd shifted to look at them and Ford stared directly at the ground. Why were they at the front? That was where people were noticed.

“I dunno, why are you wearing a dead rat on your head?” Stan pointed.

“Uh. It’s a raccoon, duh. And it’s because I’ve got Pioneer Day spirit.” Preston sniffed, looking down his nose. “You clearly don’t. Who are you?”

“We’re the Pines twins.” Stan raised his chin defiantly, Ford keeping an eye on him, the crowd, this kid. He hated how this kid looked at them, like they were dirt on his shoe. Ford was a genius, and Stanley was- well, Stanley. Everyone kept treating them like nothing when they weren’t, they weren’t.

“Pines twins.” Preston growled. “Ugh. Whatever, you’re not even invited anyway to Pioneer day. You’re not Gravity Falls people.”

“So what?” Stan snapped back, already getting angry. Ford gritted his teeth, matching his brother’s temper. How dare this kid say that? When Gravity Falls was the first place Ford felt like he truly belonged?

“Your kind don’t belong here, dummies.” Preston scoffed.

“ Our kind?” Stan took a step forward and Ford grabbed his elbow. As great as it would be to see Stanley punch this smug lil kid’s face in, he was also aware that was a bad look.

“Stanley, let’s just go.” Ford looked around, pretty sure the crowd was not on their side. Unlike the freak show, there was no way showing his hands would suddenly get this crowd on his side. They were pretending uggs were historically accurate, for pete’s sake. “We’re going fishing. Who needs Pioneer spirit?”

Stan looked back, tense and ready to fight. He huffed, reaching into his vest and turning his glare on Preston. “Congrats on being special because of some dead guy. Smokebomb!”

They darted into the crowd the moment the plume of smoke appeared, running out the other side and running away until they’d rounded a building.

“They’re not very good pioneers anyway,” Ford patted his brother’s shoulder, trying to bite back his own anger at losing that confrontation. He may have been used to losing against bullies, but that didn’t mean he liked it. It made him feel small and his brain was too big for that. He was smarter than Crampelter and his goons, smarter than this kid, they should have realised that meant something.

“Yeah.” Stan scowled and kicked a rock on the ground. “Ford, would it be wrong to beat up a snotty nine-year-old?”

“Rational, that sounds like a rational course of action. But not in front of a crowd, okay?”

“You’re a bit anachronistic.”

Dipper barely kept himself from fumbling the fishing supplies in his arms as he turned, rods, bait and tackle box, and a few other things precariously balancing. He looked at the woman, strands of silver-white glinting throughout her platinum blonde hair. She lifted her sunglasses to fix him with her usual judginess. “Fishing season started weeks ago. It’s practically retro now.”

“Pacifica.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re not at Pioneer day?”

“No, Preston’s doing the usual Northwest ceremony.” She checked her painted nails, leaning against her car. She looked far too modern for the town holiday. “He’s very excited.”

“Giving the speech with his dad?” Dipper knew exactly what minefield he was stepping into, but he’d never been anything but blunt with Pacifica in his life, and he wasn’t going to start dancing around issues now.

“Of course, Paxton’s an honorary Northwest, after all. It turns out we had a very interesting marriage contract.”

“That bad?” Dipper walked over and set his newly-gotten fishing stuff on the hood of her car, leaning against the vehicle beside her.

“Split custody, he’s getting the mansion, the split of other financial assets is also stacked in his favour,” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “All in legal terms that would go over even your big head.”

“I’ve made it my mission in life to never return to a court of law,” Dipper shrugged, tucking his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “Why go through with it if you’re losing so much?”

She glanced at him, arching a brow. Probably tinted, or sculpted, or whatever people did with their brows. She’d aged more gracefully then he did, sure, but no one made it past forty without a little wear and tear. “You owe me a drink before I start answering those types of questions.”

“Yeah, do you want to start at the Skull Fracture or will we skip straight to Gnasty’s?”

“I’m not going back to that gnome bar.” The look she gave him could have deep-frozen a mountain lion.

“You’re no fun anymore, Paz.” He grinned at her, long immune.

“You’ve never been fun in your life.”

“Oh-ho, ouch.”

“I’ll be getting you to throw up your anti-ghost wards on my new house once I’ve had my stuff moved in, by the way.”

“Can do. You’re staying in town?” His grin fell. Was she sure that was a good idea?

“Is that an actual question?” She scoffed. “It’s my town.”

“But the recurring bouts of amnesia- we still don’t know what’s causing them, but we know they’re localised to the town and being in the town itself heightens the risk of possible forgetfulness-”

“Are you still talking about that? It makes you sound like an insane conspiracy theorist. Like you have a corkboard and string.” She studied him. “You do, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He had multiple. One for each theory.

“If you’re so worried about your memories, why are you in town?” She looked him over. “And making such a fashion statement.”

“Uh- family fun day?”

“That sounds like a nightmare, don’t tell me you’ve got a checklist again.”

“Checklists are extremely efficient!”

“The last time I saw you use a checklist you ended up fighting twenty of yourself and ruined Preston’s birthday party.” She pulled out a hand mirror, checking her reflection. Dipper was sorely tempted to poke the surface, just to leave a smudge. But no, he’d like to keep his hand attached to his wrist, he was quite fond of it where it was.

“That was unintentional.” He was pretty sure that kid really hated him. Hated his shins, at least, Preston had a surprisingly sharp kick.

“Whatever.” She glanced at him. “How’s your crafts project?”

“Won’t get much further without the other books in the series.” He slipped into the basic code they used, nothing like backwards talk but she refused to go along with that. No fun at all. “Still can’t find them at the local library.”

“Pity.” Pacifica sighed and pulled her sunglasses on. “And your ex-roommate?”

“He can’t evict me anymore.” Dipper placed a hand over the binding sigil hidden in his tattoos, meant to lock his spirit inside his body so Bill couldn’t pull him out into the mindscape. “I’ve got it sorted.”

“I remember the last time you said that.” She huffed and tossed her hair like a show-off. “You better be right this time.”

He chuckled and picked up the fishing gear. “C’mon, Paz. When am I ever?”

Stan hopped out of the truck, carefully parked in the woods around the lake rather than near the shore. Also not near the parking area by the pier. “What’s the plan?”

“You kids are gonna go into the building by the pier and be a great distraction, then meet me back here. It’s out of sight, so that should keep you guys from also getting banned.”

“Are you sure stealing a boat is the most logical course of action?” Ford hesitated before he took his jacket off and placed it under the car seat. Good idea. Stan did the same, only worrying about one sleeve since he was hiding the cast a bit, arm still in a sling. He didn’t want his smokebombs getting wet.

“Stealing sounds fun to me, Sixer,” Stanley grinned and reached over the seats, messing up Ford’s hair. Ford laughed and batted his hand away.

“Get off, you knucklehead.”

There was the sound of paper flicking. Stan turned to see Dipper with a long list that unfurled in his hand.

“Alright. You kids go first, try to be distracting for twenty minutes, set a watch or something, then bail. Got it?”

“I hope Fiddleford’s in there,” Ford smiled and clicked a button on his watch. “I wanna tell him about Gideon and the carnival.”

“I’m gonna ask if the lake water’s drinkable!” He said it for the disgusted look Ford shot him.

“It’s not. Try asking about what to avoid, Tate’ll give you the whole spiel. Bubbles and all.” Dipper folded up his list again, tucking it in his overalls. “Ready for an adventure?”

Stan held out his good fist. “Ford, get your hand in here, we're gonna do a thing.”

“But we already have a high six-”

“A thing with Grunkle Dipper. Fists in.”

Dipper smiled bemusedly and did as told, leaning down to make it easier. Stan placed his fist on top. “Ford, complete the tower!”

“You’re really insistent about the weirdest stuff.” Ford rolled his eyes and did it anyway.

“Three, two, one-” Stan stole from the school sports teams back home, especially the one Shermie was on. Stan never had the knack for that team sport stuff, even though he liked watching other people do it. “Pines!”

Dipper followed Stan’s gesture with a grin. “That’s catchy.”

“It seems redundant but alright. I guess if we’re all scheming together we should have a thing?” Ford looked at his hand, wiggling his fingers.

“Meet you back here, you rascals.” Dipper messed up their hair before he disappeared into the trees. Stan watched him go. He had to teach Stan how to pull a vanishing act like that, it was like something in a movie- like when people turned around and the killer suddenly wasn’t there. Super cool.

“So the amulet’s broken now? Forever?” Fiddleford clarified. Ford wondered why he’d gotten so pale during Ford’s recounting of the previous night. It was a pretty sunny and nice day, after all.

“Yep. Too bad, I wanted to study it a bit, take some notes,” Ford sighed. Fiddleford gently patted his shoulder, which was nice too. It was amazing to have a good friend who could really keep up with him when he talked about science. He loved Stanley, but sometimes having to dial down what he was saying into layman’s terms was annoying.

“Well, I mean, if it was so obviously evil, probably a fine thing you didn’t get the chance,” Fiddleford tried to cheer him up. “Do you and your brother want some sunhats? It’ll keep the sunburn off you.”

“Uh…” Ford did remember how painful sunburn could be. “Yes please. We don’t have much money though, we got a lot of butterscotch. Want some?”

“Well I would not say no to that!” Fiddleford smiled brightly and hopped the shop counter. “Let me nab those hats first.”

“Thanks.” Ford glanced over at Stanley, in the middle of bombarding Fiddleford’s dad with endless questions about the lake, but specifically weird distracting ones that weren’t easy to answer, like ‘have you ever personally drank the lake water’ or ‘could I fish using my foot as bait’. Weird stuff like that. Nothing all that useful, but maybe he would get some indication of supernatural occurrences they could investigate?

“It’s real nice having you drop by,” Fiddleford hummed as he sorted through the various fishing hats, limbs contorting with disturbing ease as he scuttled up shelves exactly like a possum. “I’ve been darn well bored stupid out here, I think the only reason my pops wants me to sit here behind the counter is so I can’t make any horrifying robots.”

“It does seem pretty quiet here. I guess it's more popular when it’s not Pioneer Day?” Ford felt a bit guilty about being a distraction now.

“I mean- first day of fishin’ season was a bit busy, but it’s a small town, not really anyone looking for anything they don’t already have.”

“But… is it nice spending time with your dad?” Ford tried to be positive. Mr Tate didn’t seem all that scary, not like Ford’s Pa.

Fiddleford set down two hats and gave Ford the driest look he’d ever been on the receiving end of, even after thirteen years sharing a room with Stanley. “This here’s the most I’ve heard him talk since I got here.”

“Oh…” Ford blushed a little in embarrassment as he tugged on the hat, looking down at the ground in hopes it might eat him. Or spontaneously turn into a second bottomless pit, even though that was by definition impossible. Maybe. Possibly. Could Grunkle Dipper let him do some tests?

“Yep.” Fiddleford popped the P. “Don’t you worry none ‘bout that though, that’s my business.”

“Okay.” Ford was very grateful for that. But maybe- “we’re planning on exploring around the lake. Do you want to come?”

“I’d rather not be goin’ near that lake, on account of that terribibibble-” Fiddleford stumbled over the word and shook his head, looking a little annoyed, “ terrible shape I saw beneath the water. Long as a bus, I dare say.”

“... Would you happen to remember where exactly and could you mark it on a map?” Ford tried.

Fiddleford sighed and reached for a pamphlet. “Don’t do anything reckless, Stanford. And don’t show me whatever you fish up, I’d rather sleep at night, thank you kindly.”

“I’ll credit you as a key element of the discovery when I submit my evidence to all my favourite science journals!” Ford promised excitedly before the door to Mr Tate’s boat rental shop slammed open. Ford whirled, back pressed to the counter as he stared at the entrant. Blinked twice. What? “Who is that?”

“Oh no.” Fiddleford sucked air in his teeth. “Miss Chiu, I’m sorry, but you’ve been banned from this location!”

“Candy saw something in the woods!” The woman was short and hunched, her hair shock white and tangled, falling over half her wizened face, a frumpled, ragged sweater hung off her, so covered in moss and muck he couldn’t tell the colour or pattern it used to have. Her feet left mud tracks on the wood, tattered skirt held together by bandaids and mismatched stitching. She had forks bandaged to every finger on her right hand as she gestured excitedly. “I have seen the doppelgangers again! They’re gathering!”

“Hey!” Mr Tate pulled a spray bottle out of somewhere. “I told you to get away from the lake, you’ll scare the customers.”

“Dad, you can’t spray bottle her, she’s just an old lady.” Fiddleford gracefully hopped the counter and blocked his dad, hands raised to show his hands were empty. “Miss Chiu- do you need us to call someone for you?”

“I am a Mrs now.” She beamed and pulled an actual, honest-to-goodness fox out of her hair. “He will make me a happy wife.”

“... Congratulations?”

Stan joined Ford at the counter and picked at his teeth with his good hand. “I think they need to call someone , definitely. Maybe the nuthouse.”

“Stanley, that’s rude.” Ford chided. What did she say? Something about doppelgangers?

“Lady, I need you to get away from my boathouse.” Mr Tate loomed behind his son. “You’ve been banned from the lake ever since you released boat-eating fungus into my shed.”

“My experiments require feeding.” The old lady- Candy- barely looked at them, her attention instead caught by the trail mix bags by the door. She drove her forks into one of the small bags, lifting it up and spilling mix everywhere. “Sustenance for Candy. And husband.”

The fox shoved under her arm stared at Ford with the most resigned expression he’d ever seen on a human or animal. He felt really bad for it.

“Out!” Tate raised the spray bottle threateningly. “Go back to your dump, you old hag!”

“Pa!” Fiddleford snapped back. Wasn’t he scared? Why would he do that? “Stanley, Stanford, will you help me escort uh- Mrs Chiu outside? Mrs Chiu, why don’t you walk with me and tell me about these- er, doppelygangers.”

“I will explain in excessive and horrific detail.”

“Yep!” Ford wanted to ask about the doppelgangers. “C’mon, Stanley. Also- I got us hats.”

“I didn’t agree to be volunteered for this.” Stan sighed and followed anyway as Fiddleford managed to bustle the old lady outside without touching the fox. Ford risked a glance at Fiddleford’s dad, expecting the glower that spoke of an oncoming explosion, but he’d just gone back to sorting out the tackle boxes. Strange.

“I see them in a clearing, all with the same face,” Old Lady Chiu was gesturing animatedly, occasionally stopping to shove trail mix in her mouth, some of her teeth chipped and missing. “They are plotting great doom! There’s a blackboard with a many-stepped plan and they wear stupid hats marked with numbers. In four years they have not aged!”

“That sounds mighty creepifying, I reckon,” Fiddleford informed her bluntly as he managed to get her moving in the direction of the road back to town. “Maybe you should go tell the sheriff?”

“Yes, yes, Candy should. Grenda is… who is Grenda?” She reached up with her forks in a motion Ford recognised, and adjusted glasses that weren’t there. He felt an instinctive need to adjust his own, seeing the familiar movement. “Never mind! You should visit! I will let you assist in building death ray.”

“... I will- I will consider that. As an option.” Fiddleford gave her a nudge. “Please don’t come back? My pa’s really not happy with you.”

“But Candy is adorable!” She shoved the fox back into her hair as it stared at Ford. Its eyes screamed ‘help’ before it disappeared into the snowy white tangles.

“Yeah… I reckon Pa wouldn’t know adorable if it hopped up and bit him in the backside. Off you go, now, stay safe.”

Old Lady Chiu patted Fiddleford’s face with a smile, leaving a muddy handprint, and scampered into the woods. Ford felt like an observer, the same way he did reading the diary, or watching kids at school having fun and making friends. Something he wasn’t probably meant to be part of, but he knew it happened anyway.

“Well, that was random and made no sense.” Stan leaned his elbow on Ford’s shoulder. “Hey Ford, has it been twenty minutes yet?”

“You know her, Fiddleford? Has she mentioned doppelgangers before?” Maybe they should call off fishing day?

“Why were you so nice to her?” Stan’s nose crinkled. “She seemed sorta-” he pulled away from Ford, made a circle by his temple, and whistled.

Fiddleford’s shoulders straightened and the look on his face was stern, hard in a way Ford hadn’t seen. He’d seen Fiddleford excited, he’d seen him bored and glum talking about his dad, and he’d seen him scared, but he hadn’t seen Fiddleford look mad .

“She’s a harmless old lady, that’s all.” Fiddleford glared at Stan, his accent gone from silly to sharp. “Not her fault her mind’s goin’ a bit. Least I can do is be nice to her, no one else in this darn unfriendly town is. So you mind your goshdarned manners.”

“Whoa, okay. Touched a nerve.” Stan put his hand in his pocket. “Who is she?”

Fiddleford scratched at the muddy handprint on his face. “I don’t rightly know. But I know she’s not meaning any harm. Just because someone’s a bit messy and don’t recall everything the right way, doesn’t mean they ain’t deservin’ of a bit of compassion.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I called her a nutjob,” Stan rolled his eyes. “What did she mean ‘doppelgangers’?”

“I wouldn’t put stock in it. She says a lot of things.” Fiddleford shrugged and trudged back to the boathouse.

There was a yell inside of ‘where did my boat go?!’, and Ford winced while Stanley ignored ir. Looked like Grunkle Dipper was as good at boat theft as he said.

Fiddleford didn’t notice the guilt on Ford’s face, taking his glasses off and cleaning the lenses with the edge of his sleeve. “Thanks for droppin’ by, Stanford. Stanley. Hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“Leaving?” Stan asked as Fiddleford stepped inside, finally accepting his hat from Ford and fitting it on. They both remembered how painful sunburn could be.

“Leaving.” Ford agreed as they ran into the woods towards where Dipper had parked, out of view of the little shore and the pier that acted as the lake’s only dock. Sorry, Fiddleford, but the hats weren’t that important. Not when Ford had the map. “Do you think we could look for the doppelgangers?”

“Can it wait? We’re fishing, right?” Stanley huffed out as they raced, shoes pounding on the forest floor.

“Well- I mean, we’re monster hunting. Fishing is an extra, Grunkle Dipper’s going to show us supernatural stuff now, since he stopped lying.”

“But we’re fishing.” Stanley stopped running, forcing Ford to do the same if he wanted to continue the conversation.

“Stanley, fishing’s fun,” when something was caught, “but Gravity Falls is full of real anomalies. Fiddleford’s lake monster, these doppelgangers, we have to investigate them.”

“Can you investigate the lake monster while we’re fishing?” Stan fidgeted with the brim of his hat.

“Well- I suppose, but I mean, it’s not that efficient, and it would distract Grunkle Dipper,” Ford hesitated before he confessed, knowing Stanley would understand. He always understood. “Fishing’s not that fun anyway...”

“You’re just saying that because you’re bad at it and got a hook stuck in your hand.”

“It really hurt!” Ford’s cheeks grew hot as Stanley made fun of him. Why would Stanley say he was bad at it? Why didn't he understand? “I’m not bad- I just don’t like it!”

“Ford!” Stanley glared at him. “Why do you not like things that are fun?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ford stared at him, brows furrowing. He was always so hot-headed, Ford never knew why .

“Whatever, nerd.” Stanley scoffed and stomped by, his shoulder knocking against Ford’s.

“Why are you always so boneheaded!” Ford snapped at him as Stanley broke into a run, because really, this was illogical. Fishing was circumstantial fun where the circumstances were rare. It was a gambling game, an old man hobby, except the old man they were currently accompanying didn’t even do it. That made it a Granpa hobby.

Monster hunting, now that was much better. That was Ford’s dream.

Ford took a second to take a breath and focus on what was important. Doppelgangers in the woods with numbered hats, a giant shape in the lake marked on a map, a million other anomalies just waiting for him to discover. Why did Stan get angry so easily? It was rash, Ford wished he was better at not getting mad himself. He was supposed to be the logical one. Short tempers had no place in an intellectual mind.

He looked out over the lake, placid and serene, but with fog gathered around the island in the middle. That looked like a perfect place to find anomalies! So many options, he could spend all day just chasing leads.

But he needed a boat for that, and the diary. Stanley had probably calmed down by now, Ford hated fighting, especially when he didn’t do anything wrong. Stanley was just being weird again.

If Stan had to hear one more ‘can we go to that mysterious island’ outta his twin he might actually shove Ford overboard. Just a little bit.

“You mean Scuttlebutt Island?” Dipper deliberately enunciated the name as he pushed the tiller, steering them to the far side of the lake and away from the boat house.

“Butt Island.” Stan repeated, but he didn’t really feel the humour meant to come with something so funny.

“I’m not calling it that.” Ford huffed.

“Yeah, ‘course not.” Did he think he was better than them or something? Because of his mysteries? Better than doing something fun with family? Stan wanted to show Grunkle Dipper he was good at things that wasn’t just being a delinquent, couldn’t the monster hunt wait one day?

“Trust me, kid, there’s nothing on Scuttlebutt Island but some really cute beavers. Soos and I scoped the whole place once, he took a ton of pictures.” Dipper reached into his jacket and pulled out a polaroid.

Stan perked up at the sight. “Wow, beaver with a chainsaw. That’s the greatest thing I ever saw, and I once saw a cockroach-”

“Please don’t mention the cockroach,” Ford cut him off before he studied Grunkle Dipper. “You just keep this picture? All the time?”

“Yeah… I was sort of insane that day. Convinced that I heard the Gobblewonker roar.” Dipper bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “But it was just this lil guy.”

“Gobblewonker?” Ford turned his whole attention to Grunkle Dipper. “Is that a lake monster?”

“Yeah, but trust me, if I haven’t found it, it ain’t in this lake. There is a giant nocturnal boat-eating head, but there’s no Gobblewonker.” Dipper smiled at the beaver picture, tucking it back into a pocket. Stan swore he caught a glimpse of other polaroids in there. “That’s what the beaver picture is for, a reminder that not every weird thing is an anomaly. Stuff just happens sometimes.”

“But Fiddleford says he saw something!” Ford pulled a pamphlet out and pointed at a marked section. “Right here! It’s even on the far side of the lake, please?”

“Well…” Dipper’s face scrunched a bit, the lines in his skin deepening.

“Can we just pick somewhere and fish?” Stanley kicked the side of the boat. “We gotta stay still when we do. Go to the stupid monster spot, I don't care.”

“It’s not stupid!” Ford shoved him. “Why are you being so mean?!”

Stanley got ready to shove him back before Grunkle Dipper intervened. Again. Like yesterday at the carnival.

“Guys, guys, this is family fun day,” Dipper held them both by the shoulder, hand scrunching on the life jackets. “You’ve been getting along great since you got here, now two fights in two days? What’s going on?”

“Is this because of fishing?” Ford scowled. “Stanley, there are more important things then that-”

“It’s important to me!” Stanley snapped at him. “I thought it was important to you too but you’ve not shut up about anomalies ever since Chiu mentioned the doppelgangers!”

“Doppelgangers…?” Dipper echoed quietly.

Stan continued, ignoring Dipper. “You were gonna run off into the woods on the word of some crazy old bat and ditch me!”

“Stanley, you’re allowed to come on my anomaly hunts-” Ford adjusted his glasses and he wasn’t getting it . Stan wanted to tip over the whole boat.

“I want to go fishing!”

“Why?!”

“Because it’s something I’m better at than you!”

Ford just stared at him. Stan sat with the snapped-out words just a moment longer before he felt an awful knot of guilt in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He wasn’t supposed to think that.

He was the spare Stan, he was meant to be proud his brother was so amazing- he was- so why was he saying it like it wasn’t the best thing ever? Toughen up, Stanley. Be a better twin. Do it for family.

Ford shoved him overboard.

The splash was loud enough that Dipper managed to shake his head clear of the memories of such a similar fight- history really did repeat, didn’t it- and leaned over the edge, scanning the water. Up bobbed Stanley, buoyed by his lifejacket. Dipper reached out a hand, keeping one braced on the boat’s edge.

“Stanley, here-” he gripped the kid by the jacket, helping pull him up. The silence behind him shattered as Ford seemed to finish processing.

“Ohmygosh Stanley I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I- are you okay?!”

Ford might not have known why he did it, but Dipper could make a guess.

He remembered the fit he threw when Mabel got taller first, he hadn’t understood why she’d been so harsh about it, he thought she was the one who was good at everything he wanted, and the fight had brought down the house. He had been a raging bundle of insecurity back then, one poke and out came the venom.

It was afterwards when Mabel handed him their games tally he’d finally understood, just a little bit. They were both jealous of each other for stupid reasons, in the end. She was fearless and he was nervous, he was tactical while she was impulsive. Different strengths for different scenarios, who even cared about how many chess games he could win?

Wouldn’t it be great if he could keep these kids from making his mistakes?

He got Stan out of the water and reached for the towel, wrapping it around the kid’s shoulders. He hoped the cast wasn’t gonna be damaged by a dunk in the lake. Stan batted at his hands, hackles up. Made sense, kid had a proud streak. “I’m fine , Dipper. I’m no weenie, I can take a dunking.”

“Stanley?” Ford asked hesitantly, and Dipper sat back, figuring that it might be best to let the kids talk it out. Preferably with no more shoving, why were these kids so pushy to each other sometimes? Had he and Mabel been like that?

Maybe they had. After all, shoving his twin through a portal had to come from somewhere, right?

Ford was wringing his hands together, polydactyly lacing and unlacing. “I… I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Eh, I was thinking about pushing you overboard lots,” Stan shrugged, and then he smiled. It was big and bright and Dipper thought it would remind him of Mabel, because there was so much of his twin in these kids, but no. Mabel’s smiles were real in a way this wasn’t. This smile was a lie. Stan still wore it. “Since you were being all nerdy about monster hunting.”

“... Sorry?” Ford fidgeted. “... Do you not like monster hunting?”

“I didn’t say that.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Sweet Moses, Sixer, I like the monster hunts. Don’t worry.”

“Then why are you so focused on fishing? And…” Ford shifted nervously. “Why did you say that you being better at it matters?”

Dipper rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands together in front of his mouth as a less-obvious method of clamping them over his mouth. The answer seemed obvious from someone who lived it, but if he just told them they’d roll their eyes and say ‘whatever, oldtimer’ or whatever teenagers did nowadays.

“Dunno.” Stan looked away. “It was a dumb thing to say.”

“Then why’d you say it?” Ford’s tone got sharper, more desperate. They were both so quick to anger. Dipper wondered if that was from Filbrick, not that Dipper knew anything about him beyond being his one and only nephew. It had to be Filbrick, or Caryn, right? Their grandpa had been the most relaxed older brother Dipper could have asked for. Mabel’s anger was deep and hidden, as long as a crush wasn’t involved. Dipper knew he wasn’t exactly a gentle soul, but these kids flared up so quick, their fuses were so short. Maybe it was just them, but even then…

Was Jersey really that much of a nightmare to grow up in?

“Why do you want to be better at me?” Ford leaned forward, hands pressed together in his lap.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.” Stanley deflected. What had gone on in his head, that he’d switched so quickly on a dime?

“You’re not stupid!” Ford pleaded. “Just say something.”

Okay, maybe Dipper could intervene a little bit. Tiny bit. Just a nudge. “You know- when I was growing up I was convinced your Granpa was better than me at everything. Maths, sports, you name it.” Mabel was good at everything Dipper wasn’t. Art, friendships, having people actually like her…

They both stared at him. Ford blinked first. “And?”

Dipper shrugged unhelpfully. “End of story. It’s a choose-your-own-message thing. Do you want me to look away and cover my ears now, let you have your moment?”

The mirrored unamused expressions were kinda funny, even if this was not a laughing moment. Dipper still covered his ears, pretending he wasn’t paying attention. It was a bit awkward to be in the middle of a sibling fight in a small space, he finally had sympathy for his parents during Pines Family Road Trips. Three kids jammed in the back, vying for space, legroom, control of the music, who could look out the window. He remembered elbows jammed in ribs and all three of them fighting like wild animals until dad threatened to turn the car around.

Family was such a pain sometimes. He missed it.

Stan was the one who scoffed and broke the silence this time. Ford bit his tongue to keep himself from bubbling over, mind whirling with a million things to say. Why did he push him? How could he push his brother off a boat? Why did Stanley say he wanted to do the same, what was wrong with them?

“I’m not jealous or anything lame like that. Don’t go thinking something stupid like that, okay?” Stanley started off, glancing at Grunkle Dipper. Ford also wished their Grunkle was not there momentarily, why did they have to do this on a tiny boat?

Focus, Ford. The real problem was there, and he could solve it, he just had to identify it. “Then why?”

“I just wanted to…” Stan looked away. “I’m not a screw-up at everything , alright?”

Oh. Ford remembered in the Jersey Devil’s lair, how Stanley had tried so hard to do something nice for dad and ruined it. It was an accident, but it still cost them a summer. It wasn’t bad, being inside all the time, certainly better than having to dodge Crampelter and his goons, but… “Do you think you’re a screw-up?”

But why? Stanley wasn’t- well, he wasn’t as smart as Ford, but nobody was, really, so that wasn’t his fault. Stanley was good at other stuff! Like- like punching! And lying! And reading people!

And… fishing too, he supposed.

“You’re not a screw-up,” Ford repeated, trying to make Stanley believe it. “Is that why you want to show Grunkle Dipper how to fish?”

“You can do your monster hunting any time.” Stan mumbled, Ford straining to hear. “All summer. But we can’t get a boat every day. Not like home.”

“Yeah…” Ford knew exactly what he meant. A beach of sand and glass shards, and their perfect treasure, found by them, all theirs. They’d pushed it back into the secret cove and boarded it back up the moment they could, in the scant time before Shermie announced they were going to Gravity Falls and getting packed onto a bus. “It’s no Stan O’ War, is it?”

“Yeah.” Stan looked at him and smiled. Was it real? Ford couldn’t tell. He hoped so. “I mean- where’s the sail? I like that sail.”

“Me too.” Ford liked feeling like a dashing adventurer.

“Speedboats aren’t very adventure-y,” Stan kept going, and Ford hoped this meant things were okay again. “Fighting a monster in this seems boring.”

“True, having a sail and a steering wheel is more suitably dramatic.” Ford smiled a bit brighter, hoping his contribution was acceptable. Was that it? All fixed?

Maybe… Maybe he should make a concession. “I don’t dislike fishing.”

He had all of Stan’s attention now. Stan was very good at focusing on someone. “You said-”

“I was… I guess we both said stuff we didn’t mean?’ Ford tried. “We can… we can look for the Gobblewonker tomorrow? And the doppelgangers?” It felt like a waste of time, but… he shoved his brother overboard, he probably owed him something.

Stanley’s eyes shone. “Really?”

Ford nodded once, unprepared for Stanley to tackle him in a hug and drench him to the bone. It was freezing.

Ford cautiously hugged him back and waved at Grunkle Dipper. “You can listen again.”

Dipper pulled his fingers from his ears. “If I could have gone to stand over there-” he gestured in a vague direction, “I would have.”

That would have made things less awkward. “Tomorrow can we go monster hunting? Today we’re teaching you how to fish.”

Dipper smiled and it looked like he was… proud. But why? For what reason? Could Ford recreate that?

Stanley let go of Ford and he looked happy again. Was it so easy to do that, all this time? Why did it matter so much to him?

“Grunkle Dipper, welcome to the Stan Pines Super Fishing School College!"

“Saying school and college feels repetitive,” Ford pointed out, unable to help himself.

“Shh, I’m teaching.”

Ford woke up in the middle of the night, looking around the room he and Stanley shared. Something didn’t feel right. Stanley wasn’t in his bed and Gompers wasn’t sleeping on the floor.

He reached for his glasses before he realised he had them on- did he fall asleep wearing them again?

Blue and purple light shone in through the closed window and a jolt of familiarity hit him. Oh, this was another of those dreams. Okay.

He always seemed to forget them until they happened again.

He hopped out of bed and reached for the window, the words ‘it is polite to knock’ echoing in his head for a moment.

Knock, knock on the window glass, the lines of a triangle etched into the panes, and the window opened, the milky way looking so much closer then it was supposed to. Ford grinned excitedly.

He climbed out the window to see the usual staircase of books leading up into the starry sky, colours that only existed in illustrations and not in the real night sky.

Up the pathway of floating tomes he climbed, until the ground disappeared and he was left surrounded by the vast cosmos, infinite and mysterious. One day, he was going to explore every inch of it.

And at the top there waited a friend.

“Hiya, Sixer!”

“Hello, Mr Cipher,” Ford smiled excitedly, stepping off the last book and into zero gravity, floating. It was so cool, these dreams were really fun. It was nice to not have nightmares about going to school with no pants on, or about Cathy screaming at him in third grade.

“Ready to pick up where we left off?” Mr Cipher snapped his fingers and a chessboard appeared, the pieces placed just as Ford remembered them. “How about some space tea?!”

“I’d love some,” Ford smiled and accepted the cup as it appeared, the liquid inside full of swirling nebulas. It was like someone poured glitter into blackcurrant juice, and tasted just like it but even sweeter.

He took a sip and stared at the board, waiting for Mr Cipher to make his next move. Mr Cipher’s hand hovered over the pieces before settling on his white bishop.

“You know it was pretty selfless what you did today,” Mr Cipher commented, sliding the bishop three spaces along the board. “Letting your brother take over for a bit.”

“I mean-” Ford hesitated as he stared at the board. Hm. Rook or Knight? “It wasn’t that bad. It was fun. We even caught a carp." A boring normal carp, sure, but still a fish.

“Sure, but it was still nice of you to make your brother happy. You do that a lot, sacrifice your dreams for him. You think he appreciates it?”

“Of course he does!” Ford knew Stanley would do anything for him. “I don’t sacrifice things. Do I?”

“I’m just saying, kid, I bet someone as genius as you could have found the doppelgangers and the Gobblewonker in one day if you didn’t have to worry about him.”

“Well, yes, obviously- but it wouldn’t be fun if Stanley wasn’t there, you know?” Ford made his decision, moving his rook backwards to cover his queen. “We’re monster hunters together.”

“Like I said, you’re a real selfless kid.” Mr Cipher shifted a pawn forward. “I bet your great uncle thinks so too. He’s a weird guy, right?”

“He’s not so bad. Now that he’s not lying, at least.” Ford scanned the board as he thought five moves ahead. “Hey, why don’t I ever remember these dreams until they show up?”

“I dunno, Sixer! I’m just a figment of your subconscious!” Mr Cipher reminded him. “This is all in your head, so you should know!”

“I know, I…” he thought it over, hand dithering over his pieces. “Maybe it's just… happy dreams are harder to remember?”

“That sounds right to me, kid! Man, we’re a smart brain!”

“Can’t deny that.” Ford grinned as he made his move, placing his knight in position to take that pawn Bill had moved. Next turn, he’d make his move. “It’s still a little weird that a part of my subconscious is so aware. I’ve never read about anything like that.”

“We’ve never read about how other genius-level intellects dream!” Bill moved a different pawn. “Playing chess with yourself is a tried-and-true method of improving your skill!”

“That’s true.” Ford took Bill’s pawn with a smile, adding it to the small collection on his side of the board. “And that piece is mine too.”

“Great move, kid!” Bill tipped his black top hat. “You’ve really got me on the ropes here!”

“Well, guess you’ll have to find an opening,” Ford smiled graciously as he picked up his tea cup from where it was floating. He almost had Mr Cipher in check.

“Guess I will!” Mr Cipher laughed, high and screechy. Ford laughed with him, holding his tea cup, books and some of his favourite things floating gently around him.

It was a nice dream. Sometimes it was a shame he had to wake up.

#Gravity Falls #Dipper Pines #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Bill Cipher #relativity falls AU but Mabel is the author #gf #slowly the plot outline in my mind is building

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zijiaye · 1 month ago

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Remember that scene where Kakashi catches Obito on the verge of smooching the class photo?

My HC is that Kakashi accidentally on purpose passes by Obito's place often. Usually he never reveals himself, but when he sees Obito about to make out with Rin in the class photo (why not the Rin's other photos where she's alone btw hmm Obito???), he just cannot stand idly by and watch the embarrassing scene so he descends onto Obito's window to mock him.

Also this scene from a Chinese fic lives in my head rent-free. (The narrator here is Obito). "I'd been sick before when I was young. My classmates would often use illness as an excuse to skip classes and training, or as an opportunity to get attention from their parents. But I always hated being sick, because there wasn't anyone I could seek comfort from. During the worst times, I could only lie in bed alone and endure it. While at the Academy, being surrounded by peers was fine, but times like these only emphasized how alone I truly was. Life is just cruel like that, always reminding me of what I've lost just when I'm about to forget.

Fortunately, I've been relatively healthy, rarely getting sick since I was seven. The only time I really fell ill was the day before my second Chunin Exam.

It was my own carelessness, really. It was already during the seasonal change, and I'd been training from dawn till dusk for the exam. I didn't even care when my clothes were soaked with sweat, and as a result, my fever shot up to 39°C the next day.

I curled up in my blankets, shivering despite having several layers covering me. My mind kept urging me to get up and take medicine, but I couldn't even open my eyes.

Am I going to die? I promised I'd become Hokage, dying like this would be so uncool… I haven't even passed the Chunin Exam yet, and Kakashi will mock me again…

As my mind wandered with these delirious thoughts, I thought I heard knocking at the door, but I couldn't muster the strength to answer it. I closed my eyes and passed out.

In my feverish sleep, my body alternated between hot and cold, and my dreams were bizarre. One moment I dreamed of failing the Chunin Exam again and being stripped of my ninja status; then I dreamed of trying to confess to Rin, but panicked when I couldn't find my love letter; and then I dreamed of Kakashi… he was taking care of me while I was sick, helping me sit up to take medicine, wiping my sweat with a cool cloth, placing his hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

In my daze, I remember thinking how the elderly always say dreams are opposite to reality, and how wise those words were – the real Kakashi could never be this gentle.

When I finally opened my eyes again, it was sunset. The warm-colored sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the corner of my bed, into my eyes, and onto the hair of the person by the window, coating his silver hair with a honey-colored glow.

I stared at Kakashi blankly, thinking I was still dreaming.

There were faint dark circles under his eye, as if he hadn't slept well. Seeing me awake, he looked at me with his droopy eye and said, "Why do you look so stupid the moment you wake up?"

"Wha— no, why are you here?"

"If I hadn't happened to pass by, you would've died from fever in your house."

"…What are you talking about? You're exaggerating! I'm perfectly healthy, the fever would've gone down after half a day of sleep!"

"It's already the second day."

"…"

I was speechless, partly because Kakashi had shut me down, and partly because I felt inexplicably shy, to the point where I could barely meet his eyes.

"Kakashi… did you take care of me for a whole day?"

Now it was his turn to feel awkward. Kakashi lowered his gaze, his voice slightly hoarse: "I couldn't just let you die, could I? Especially when a certain dead-last was crying in his sleep."

My face instantly turned red: "Who was crying! That was—that was sweat!"

"Sweat coming from your eyes?"

"Yeah! Got a problem with that?!"

I glared at him, ready for our usual verbal sparring. But instead, Kakashi turned his head away, and in the backlight, I saw the corner of his mouth curve slightly upward, almost like a smile.

"Whatever, I won't argue with a sick person. If you say so, then so be it."

While I was still stunned, Kakashi had already walked over to take the cloth from my forehead, softly saying as he re-wet it: "You usually act so carefree, like nothing bothers you, but you'll still hide under your blanket and cry alone. What were you dreaming about?"

By now I'd completely forgotten about arguing that those weren't tears, feeling only awkwardness. I'd always considered him my rival, always wanting to compete with him in everything, and there was no way I could admit my vulnerability in front of him, so I stubbornly said: "I wasn't crying from sadness, I… right, I dreamed about marrying Rin, those were tears of joy."

Kakashi's movements suddenly stopped. After a few seconds, he said casually: "Dreams are opposite to reality, you should give up while you can."

"No way! Once I pass the Chunin Exam, I'm going to confess to Rin, just you watch!"

"As if you could pass the exam in your current state. You'll probably be a Genin forever."

"Ahhhhhhh, you're so annoying!""

#obkk #kakaobi #team minato #obito #kakashi #naruto

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thomasthetankengine · 7 months ago

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every time a drug-related poll goes around i keep seeing posts that are like "ew why are the dirty addicts calling people uncool for not doing drugs what is this a dare ad" and it drives me insane. like part of me does want to understand n stuff bc peer pressure is a real phenomenon and 'coolness' was one of the reasons i took up drug abuse, i but like

equally we need to remember that addicts are oppressed for being addicts, and that the oppressed have the right to make fun of their oppressors. idk but after being shit on for years for being a drug addict, constantly dealing w people disregarding my capacity for making decisions, physical violence in quite a few cases, im kinda just done with having to be on my very best behavior to show any discontent with the way things are

especially when i see soooo many posts around here making fun of neurotypicals and cishets. like you guys know the value of mocking an oppressor. so why cant we laugh a little

important addition that i have to put on my posts any time i talk about drug addiction: i am not encouraging anyone to do drugs i am just talking about my experiences as a drug addict. if you take this post as encouraging you to do drugs, you are reading it wrong and should do some personal evaluation of your own biases, preferably without me, i am not here to help you grow i am just saying what i want to say.

#rue.text #drug tw

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

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Okay this is soooo very out there in actual probability of this being logical but the idea of a pool in Jackson or like people are allowed to go out to lake or something or they dig a lake like idek but something that involves reader in a swimsuit and Joel like 😳 in public so maybe a lil bit of jealous Joel in there, I just think it would be so cute and fun and spicy and idek if this makes sense hahaha, I’m so sorry for being awful at explaining ideassss🤦‍♀️🤣

The Snake River actually runs through Jackson so it’s entirely plausible (yes, I did do research for this)

Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I didn’t go into this wanting to write smut but it happened and I don’t hate it?? Please be nice to me I’m just a girl

Summary: Joel has something planned for you [3.3k]

Warnings: language, murder jokes, Joel being a little insecure, Joel the Menace making a return, smut (18+ MINORS DNI), fingering, dirty talk, sex in a semi-public place??, almost getting caught, brief mention of a safe word

Joel Miller is not a spontaneous person. It was one of the first things you found out about him. He hates surprises almost as much as he hates planning them. He's someone who likes to know what's happening and when. He loves a plan. But he loves you more.

Everyone has gone back to school, and the seasons are in a neverending battle of when one begins and the other ends. The hazy August heat permeates the windows of your house as you lie in bed, hiding from the sun and the rest of your responsibilities. This time of year makes you especially grateful for your early morning patrol shifts. You get to finish up your work before the world has the opportunity to finish preheating, and then the town is quiet after that, with people shuffling off to work or school. Maybe that's why Joel wanders into your shared bedroom with your backpacks in hand.

"Are you doin' anythin' for the rest of the day?" He asks, and you give him a confused look.

"Besides waiting for our daughter to come home from school? No, I didn't have any major plans." You tease, and he rolls his eyes before tossing your bag at you.

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes." He says.

"For what?"

"It's a surprise."

"Are you finally going to kill me?" You ask, and he scoffs.

"Honey, if I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it a long time ago."

"Fair point. Suspicion always points to the spouse first," you say, sitting up in bed. "Where are we going?"

"Does the word 'surprise' mean nothin' to you?"

"Only when it's coming from your mouth."

"Downstairs. Five minutes." He says, effectively ending the conversation by turning on his heels and walking away. You groan in protest but get up anyways. If it's something he planned, it's probably worth getting out of bed for. Still, you shuffle your feet lazily as you put more distance between yourself and an afternoon nap.

He's almost giddy as you walk out of the house and into the blaring sunshine. Ellie still has a few more hours of school left, and even then, she's gotten over you and Joel walking her to and from class. She's becoming more independent as she gets older, which is fine, but seeing her not need you as much hurts. You talk about it on the way to wherever you're going. Joel says he's noticed the same thing but doesn't want to pry too much and risk being labeled "uncool." You have to literally bite your tongue to keep from asking when he was ever cool.

When you're far enough outside Jackson's walls, Joel grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers, swinging them a little as you walk through the fields. Rock jasmines and asters shake in the window around you, painting the world in shades of white, blue, pink, and yellow. Sometimes it's easy to forget just how beautiful Wyoming can be, but when vast meadows stretch out to the mountain slopes, and the sky is unbelievably clear, you remember. You look over at Joel with his long, graying hair and scruffy facial hair and smile. It's also easy to forget just how beautiful he can be with his gentle hands and crooked nose. He turns to meet your eyes, taking away your view of his side profile, and gives you a look.

"What?" He asks, and you shake your head. "You're starin'."

"I just like looking at you." You admit, making him scoff. Joel is probably the only person in this world who's unaware of how attractive he is.

"Needa get your eyes checked." He mumbles under his breath.

"Big talk coming from a man who refuses to wear his glasses even though he desperately needs them."

"I don't desperately need 'em."

"Really?" You ask, and he hums. You lift your free hand away from your body and hold up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He tugs on the hand he's holding and pulls you against him until your chest collides with his. The wind gets knocked out of you, either because of the impact or because you can see all his freckles when you get this close to him. He smirks as he stares at you, glancing between your eyes and fingers.

"Three." He says easily, leaning in to kiss you. You move back enough to make him huff in annoyance.

"That's cheating."

"Mm, I think it's called bein' resourceful."

"Is that right?" You ask, and he hums as he finally kisses you. You indulge him for a second or two before moving back again. "Could you really not see that far?" He sighs and mumbles your name, but you refuse to let it go. "Joel, if your vision's that bad, you need to be wearing them on patrol. I don't want you to make stupid mistakes because you can't see six feet in front of you."

"Look, I hear you. I do. I just..." he trails off, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's stupid."

"Stupider than not wearing them at all?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes—the drama.

"They make me look old, okay? That's why I don't wanna wear 'em," he says. Once again, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. "I'm already one of the oldest guys on patrol, and that's enough for the younger guys to make fun of me. If I start wearin' 'em on patrol, I'll never hear the end of it, especially from Tommy."

"You really care what they think about you?" You ask.

"No," he starts, but quickly shakes his head. "Yes. It didn't bother me, but then they started sayin' they didn't know what you see in an old buzzkill like me, and I just... I don't know." He says. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Does this have anything to do with you suddenly planning surprises for me?"

"I told you it was stupid." He avoids the question, but you still find an answer. He tries to hide his face in your shoulder, embarrassed, but your hands find his jaw and stop him.

"I don't think it's stupid. I think the other guys on patrol are stupid for saying that and making you think I'm anything but grossly in love with you. I think they don't know what the fuck they're talking about," you say, your thumb brushing against the patches in his beard. "And I think you don't realize just how hot you look wearing glasses," he scoffs, but you don't let him wiggle out of your grasp. "I'm being serious, Joel." You assert, and something behind his eyes shifts.

"Really?"

"Are you kidding me? It's, like, annoying how good they make you look," you say, and he smirks. "It's also sexy for you to try to stay alive. So, it's a win-win." He laughs, the sound making the sun shine a little brighter.

"I mean, who am I to argue with my wife?" He asks, relenting, and you hum.

"Exactly," you say as you kiss him. It was supposed to be quick, a passing kiss to remind him you love him, but when you try to pull away, he's back on you. His big hands snake their way into your hair as he kisses you like he's drowning and trying to pull the air from you. The buzzing bees and chirping birds of the field disappear, and all you can do is hold him. His body is firm against yours, and the soft flannel of his shirt feels perfect beneath your palms. "Was my surprise making out in a meadow? That's pretty romantic, even for you, Joel." You ask as you break away to take a breath that's not his. He groans and rolls his head back to look at the cloudless sky.

"Almost forgot bout the surprise," he says, looking back at you. "You're distractin' me."

"What did I do?" You ask. He grabs your hand and starts leading you through the flowers.

"You were tryna use your woman powers on me."

"Please, explain to me what 'woman powers' you think I possess."

"If you don't know, I can't tell you." He says like he's answering a riddle, and you laugh. The rest of the walk is spent hand-in-hand with his shoulder bumping yours occasionally as your feet walk over the summer grass. As soon as you hear water lapping over smooth rocks, you look at Joel, who pretends not to hear the same thing. He smiles when you hit the break in the trees, and the crystal water of the river sparkles in the sun.

You've heard rumors about the water being safe to swim in, but you didn't trust it. Not that it mattered. You and Joel have swum in way dirtier water than the winding blue river in front of you. Still, you were sure that it was a set-up by Raiders. But now, with Joel by your side, in the daylight, it's taking everything in you to not jump in the water. "I thought it might be nice. Just the two of us." Joel says. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, looping an arm under his and holding his bicep.

"It is nice," you agree. "But we don't own swimsuits," you say, immediately clocking the excited expression on his face. "You're a menace."

"What? I planned a very nice day for us, and I just... forgot we needed swimsuits."

"Oh, you forgot?" You ask, and he nods.

"I told you, I'm an old man. I forget things easily."

"Give me a break." You roll your eyes before letting go of his arm and walking over to a big tree. You bend down to take off your boots and socks, and Joel quickly follows suit. His eyes stick to you as you pull your shirt off your head, faded scars catching the sunlight. Once you're left in your bra and underwear, you pause and look at Joel. He's stripped down to just his underwear, too, and you have a full view of his broad frame.

His muscular chest is littered with scars, some old and silver against his tan skin and others new and still raised and angry. Your favorite is from where he got caught under some fence a million years ago. It vaguely looks like a thunderbolt striking from his collarbone to his shoulder. You can see the goosebumps rising on his thick biceps from where you're standing. His hands are relaxed and open at his sides, visible veins thrumming blood through his body. His belly has rounded just a little since you've settled in Jackson, something he grew insecure about while you reminded him every day that you loved the softness of his body. His strong thighs are a little paler than the rest of him, considering his patrol schedule in the summer, but they're still freckled and scarred like the rest of him. Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls down his underwear and stands fully naked in front of you.

I guess we're actually doing this, you think as you unclasp your bra. You leave your clothes in a pile under the tree before darting into the cold water together. He ducks his entire head under while you tread, letting yourself get used to the temperature and laughing when Joel comes up with a sharp gasp. "Oh, you think that's funny?" He asks before shaking his head in your direction, frigid water droplets landing on your skin. You shriek and splash at him to get him to stop. He splashes back, making huge swells with his arms, and you have to dive under to swim away.

Once you call a truce on the water fight, you just swim together. You alternate between floating on your back, watching the clouds float by, and diving deep under the water to see what might be down there. After a few minutes, your bodies adjust to the water, and you can actually enjoy the river currents working against you. It reminds you of all the summers you spent in pools, the ocean, rivers, and lakes before the Outbreak. The memory presses on a familiar bruise in your chest, but it doesn't hurt. At least, not as much. Not when you're here with Joel, making new memories in a new world.

You swim over to where Joel is standing, his long curls touching the water as he looks up at the sky. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist once you're close enough, and he meets your eyes with a smile. His hands grip your thighs and trace patterns into your skin, the warmth of his touch a welcome relief in the cold. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as you stare at him. "This a good surprise?" He asks, his voice low in his chest, and you nod.

"I like doing things like this with you," you say. "But I also don't want you to worry about keeping me interested in you," he sighs at your words but doesn't break away from you. "We've been together for years now. We went halfway across the country together. We have Ellie. You're it for me. I don't care what the younger guys on patrol have to say about it."

"You don't think I'm an old buzzkill?"

"Not all the time."

"Alright, smart ass."

"I mean, I don't know a lot of buzzkills who go skinny-dipping with their wives."

"See? Gimme a little credit here." He says, pinching your thigh, and you laugh. As the sound dies in your throat, his gaze hangs heavily on you. Suddenly, you're all too aware of his sturdy body under you and his hands on you. You get a little closer to him, and his stomach brushes against your core. A quiet, shaky breath leaves you, and Joel hears it. His lips ghost over yours as his hand dips down, a deft finger grazing your clit.

"Joel," you cry softly, clinging to him tighter when he presses a little harder. He shushes you as his middle finger ventures lower and just barely pushes into you. More. You need more, and he knows it. Asshole, you think to yourself, but your brain shuts off when he inches a digit into you so fucking slowly. You can feel his smirk when he leans down to mouth at the column of your throat.

"That good?" He rasps in your ear, and you nod as his hand adjusts to thumb at your clit. You jump a little at the molten pleasure pulsing through you. He chuckles lowly and nips at your earlobe. "I've barely touched you, honey, and I can already feel you squeezin' me." You can't even formulate a response once he starts moving. The slow drag of his finger against your walls is enough to drive any sane person insane. You whine when he pushes another into you and claw at his shoulders.

Your heart is fast against his chest. Everything you breathe, hear, and feel is Joel. You can't think about anything other than the weight of his hand working you over in the broad fucking daylight. You're close enough to the shore that anyone would be able to see you, but you hope you just look like a clingy couple enjoying a mid-day swim. It's a long shot, especially since he's mumbling absolutely filthy things to you. "You always sound so damn pretty." "Gonna let me fuck you like this?" "You're so good for me, baby." Every syllable makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. His fingers languidly move in and out of you like he has nothing better to do before stopping completely, and you whine in protest.

"You're f," your sentence breaks off when he quickens suddenly.

"What was that, sweetheart? Where's that smart mouth now?" He asks. Your hips start moving in time with his ministrations, and he watches you like a man starved. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as his fingers move faster inside you. You think your blood is thundering through your ears as bliss overtakes your senses, but you quickly realize it's hooves. You don't know if Joel hears it, but if he does, he doesn't stop.

"Joel, I think, fuck," he rubs at your clit with more fervor, making you see stars. "Someone's coming." You breathe, and his teeth scrape under your jaw. It's all too much. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, losing all motivation to get him to stop.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, and you nod. "C'mon, I know you can do it. Come for me." He hooks his fingers, nudging that spongy part inside you, and that's all it takes. Your mouth falls open, and fuzziness takes over your senses. You hold Joel closer as he works you through your orgasm with encouraging words and gentle strokes. Finally, you have to reach for his wrist to stop because you're so overstimulated, and he would live between your thighs if he could.

"Y'all alright?" A voice comes out of nowhere, and you jump. You and Joel turn to see one of the patrolmen from Jackson, James, on his horse a few hundred yards away. He's far enough away that he wouldn't be able to see you're both naked, but he can clearly see your clothes and backpacks on the shoreline.

"Yeah, we're alright. Just... havin' ourselves a date." Joel says, his voice annoyingly even. James looks confused, so you nod in agreement even though Joel still has two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. If he doesn't kill you, embarrassment just might.

"Well, then," James says awkwardly. "Y'all don't stay out too long. Maria'll have your ass if y'all come back hurt or somethin'." Joel shifts his hand as he nods, and you choke on a moan but try to play it off as a cough. Still, James gives you a look. "You good?"

"Yeah, are you alright, honey?" Joel asks in a mocking tone. You grit your teeth and dig your nails into his arm before nodding at James.

"All good. Just had a little tickle. We'll start heading back to town now. Thanks for checking on us." You quickly dismiss the patrolman, who is more than happy to get the hell out of Dodge. Even if he didn't suspect anything was happening, you know he's terrified of you and Joel. His ideal patrol is not having to deal with either of you and now he just got the whole package plus some. As soon as he's out of earshot, you smack Joel's arm.

"Are you fucking insane? He could've heard us!"

"Us? I'm not the one who was screamin'!"

"Okay, first of all," you start, holding up one finger. "I was not screaming. Second of all, I told you someone was coming, and you kept going!" He doesn't exactly look apologetic, but then again, you're not really mad.

"You know the safe word just as well as I do, sweetheart. I woulda stopped if you said it," he says, and you sigh. He's right. You hate it, but he's right. You try to hide your smile and shake your head as he kisses you. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, swallowing your over-sensitive whines down with gentle licks. A stupid thought wiggles its way into your brain, and you laugh against Joel's lips. Once you start, you can't stop, and Joel looks at you like you're a crazy person. "Now, what is so goddamn funny?" He asks, and you compose yourself enough to look at him.

"Think they'll still tease you over being old after you just made your wife come faster than they ever could?"

#can you tell I’m queer because all my smut is focused on female pleasure #mom June’s being a lesbian on the internet again #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of request #joel miller requests #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel the last of us #the last of us fluff #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #joel tlou

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gaykarstaagforever · 11 months ago

Text

I said I was going to read it, and I read it.

And now I know why no one else has in 55 years.

Spoiler Alert: he doesn't actually electrocute Clark, and was never going to. Utter bullshit.

The only cool things about this old guy are 1) his name is Homer Ferret, and 2) he looks like George Burns.

What is uncool about this guy is that he is an optometrist who has been stalking Clark Kent since he was a baby, for reasons he never goes into.

Like, he is just at the Kent's house when Baby Clark does his first heroic thing (pushing a runaway train car off the tracks). He is also suspiciously at the high school when it catches on fire, to see Clark jump into a bush from which Superboy then emerges to blow the fire out.

Did Homer start the fire? If not, why the hell was he hanging out at the high school? We never get answers to these and many other questions.

My favorite part is where he guesses (correctly) that Clark is Superman, based on his glasses. But not in the sane way of noticing that Clark Kent looks exactly like Superman if Superman wore glasses. Remember, no one in the DC Universe can apparently do that. Instead, as the only optometrist in Smallville, he knows Clark Kent never bought glasses from him. Once he has Clark strapped to the chair, he looks at Clark's glasses and realizes the lenses are just fake plastic ones (this was back when glasses actually contained glass).

Clark, as usual, just fucking lies and says he wears fake glasses because he is a giant coward and figured glasses would make kids bully him less. Because that is how that works.

Homer doesn't buy it, either, and so demands Clark admit he is Superman or get juiced. At the last second Clark FINALLY decides to use his X-Ray vision to look through the floor, where he sees that the generator attached to the chair is a low voltage one. Homer throws the switch and it tickles Clark with like 2 volts.

Then Homer admits he wasn't 100% on Clark being Superman after all, so wasn't going to risk killing him. Clark says "oh, you!", and decides to do a Daily Planet report on all the Superman artifacts this clearly dangerous obsessive has collected into a Superman shrine in his basement.

No one gets punched a single time.

The only good thing about this story is this random full page portrait of Clark Kent looking vaguely upset:

The other story in the issue is better, in that it is way, way dumber.

It starts off showing you how YOU TOO can draw Superman!

I feel there are a few steps missing here, but

Jimmy Olsen tells Clark how he is joining an art correspondence school, and Clark IMMEDIATELY decides it is a scam worthy of Superman's attention. And sure, it is definitely a scam being run by mobsters. But the second half of that is not remotely true.

Before he starts using X-Ray vision and perfect recall and telescopic vision and TIME TRAVEL (yes) to "solve" this crime of low-level mail fraud, he has to interview a kid who wants to be a cartoonist at the Daily Planet. Where he says this:

I think I get what he's supposed to be saying in this weird attempt at 60s Mod talk, but it took me awhile. You give it a go.

He also is a total dick about how much this child's comic strip sucks.

I mean it's no Silver Age Superman comic, but they can't all be, Clark. And let's be honest here, the bar is pretty low.

At some point in his "investigation" of this scam art school, Clark decides the best plan is for him to create forgeries of classical Western paintings. By this point he already has more than enough evidence to have these guys arrested, but he didn't get to do any pointless TIME TRAVEL yet (yes), so, priorities.

He flies back in time to study the painting techniques of the great masters. But he is bad at time travel (yes, literally), so he accidentally flies through the tail of Halley's Comet, which makes him 1) 16, and 2) blue.

Then this happens:

Let's unpack this.

1) Superman was the inspiration for Thomas Gainsborough's "Blue Boy," because he at this point is a boy, who is dressed in the mostly-blue Superman costume. ...But also because his skin is blue. You know. Unlike the boy in the painting.

2) Gainsborough uses Superboy as a model, in that he has him pose, holding a hat. But the boy in the painting is wearing a completely different outfit of rumpled velvet. So Gainsborough just did the complex outfit from his imagination, but he needed Superboy to show him what a boy holding a hat looks like? What bizarre level of "master artist" is this?

3) He doesn't paint the Blue Boy's skin, because Superboy has blue skin, and that would be too weird. And while he can obviously do imaginary clothes fine, he needs another model with normal-colored skin to do a face and a hand. ...Even though he only chose Superboy as a model in the first place, partly because he has blue skin, which makes him a 'Blue Boy,' which is what inspired the whole painting in the first place. ...Except he never intended to actually make the Blue Boy blue-skinned. So...

Adult men with families and mortgages wrote this.

After this, Superboy flies back through Halley's Comet's tail, restoring his age and color. Then he goes to visit Rembrandt, where Rembrandt ACTUALLY DRESSES HIM IN A PERIOD OUTFIT, to use him as a model for one of the figures in "The Night Watch". Because Superman is so muscular.

Because, as everyone thinks when they see that painting, "Man. That one guy in the hat is buff as shit." (?)

Notably, yet again, the painter doesn't paint Superman's face, this time because a officer of the REAL Night Guard paid to have his portrait put in the painting. But I guess that guy's body wasn't all swol and hot enough for Rembrandt's painting...of that specific guy.

"WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH GETTING THE POLICE TO ARREST THE MOBSTERS RUNNING A SCAM ART SCHOOL??"

Good goddamn question.

Superman comes back to the present and creates perfect forgeries of the two paintings he was inexplicably involved in creating. When the mobsters try to sell them as the real paintings, Clark Kent shows up with the cops and points out how the forgeries aren't actually perfect, he made them slightly different to prove they were fakes.

And this somehow is a crime the mobsters get arrested for. Instead of Clark Kent, who very obviously painted the forgeries so that these guys could sell them. Like, that was their plan, that the heretofore whatever Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent is suddenly such an amazing artist that he can make near-perfect forgeries of great paintings. And Clark went along with it, until he stopped. And this finally proves their art school is a scam. Even though the building they are in literally has trashcans full of art submissions they have thrown out once they take the registration money out of the envelopes. And all the secretaries working for them know the whole plan and have been helping them do it.

I'm not inferring that. That is all specifically shown in the comic.

None of this was necessary. Absolutely none of it.

On the plus side, at the end, the Daily Planet hires that kid to do his monkey comic. But just the writing, because Clark still thinks his art sucks. Jesus Christ, Clark.

Here is an ad for a hobby model of what was at the time an 11 year old station wagon.

I'm not being sarcastic! That's what their ad copy says! That's how they sold this!

There is also a Letters to the Editor feature, which I didn't take a picture of, because they print everyone's full names and hometowns. Yes I know even those kids are probably dead now, but I'm not going to chance it.

At any rate, about half the letters are children telling DC's editors that these Superman stories are stupid and full of inconsistent nonsense. To which the DC editors reply by defensively snapping back at them.

So it's not just us, as adults, now.

They knew. Everyone knew.

#silver age comics #superman #dc comics #comic book

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twopoppies · 2 days ago

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Oh thank you, this is thrilling I've never had a nickname from you haha. Today I was entirely too online and I messaged before and said that I argued with someone about how much I do not want to date Harry and then those girls being mean about Larry fic and just like come on everyone. The reason I said I'm scared wasn't just to say I'm scared, I meant to followup with "I'm scared so I'm taking the joy I have and holding it close and it's making me feel safe and better in these frightening times." Fic is part of that for me and it's not right that these girls were dismissive and judgmental about something like that. If the world is going to hell can we all have our little comforts on the way and not be nasty about them to other people?

And like, I am so much happier and cooler now than I was when I was a bus girl. I'm legitimately funny and I make people laugh every single day and it isn't by punching down anymore. It's something those girls will have to learn, it's hard at first. I give a shit about the people in my life. One of the reasons I said I'd never want to date Harry to that other blog was because I'd never give up the joy and relationships I have to follow any man around on tour. It's not even just Larry (it is Larry). Sooooo many people had something to say about that, that maybe I didn't think I'd like Harry enough or treat him right (the way they could) or value the world experience. Or I wasn't brave enough. My favorite was the people who talked about how Harry would give his girlfriend (me or them) money so they weren't stuck in the hotel (what?). It was suggested that I could have my life and friends in between tours. I'm not kidding. Fuck and no if you drop your life and don't nurture your relationships whenever you have a romance they might be gone when you need them.

So today I've just been kind of spinning and having this reckoning ever since October 16th and Election Day really reevaluating what matters to me and what doesn't. Today it was through the lens of Harry and fandom and fantasizing or not about being his girlfriend. I'm sorry Harry, it's not you it's me. I'll never be your girlfriend. Tbh it's kind of making me laugh now because why did it matter if I wanted to date him or not? And why did those girls have to say nasty shit like that over something I really think they cannot understand until they experience personal growth. To make someone feel bad about their work or their reading materials? What are your hobbies, girlies? I know I can find a way to make you embarrassed about them if you tell me. I know that because I'm you, but better and wiser now and much much smarter than I was when I was 20 and mean. I grew. Will you? Truly, I hope you do. It is so much more fun this way. It is so fun to let the silliness of fanfiction comfort me (though it is of course not all silly). Don't like fic? Don't engage with it, more for me. But use your fucking manners and be polite about it.

Remember that Almost Famous quote about how really being cool is about being uncool or whatever it is? It's true. And I was cool in theory. This is not bragging btw. Embarrassingly I was a hipster. I was a snob, I was judgy and I was a smartass. The guy I dated was gorgeous and rode a fixie and we talked about beer and bikes and the elephant six (remember them?) and people were jealous. I had tons of friends and a social life and on paper it still looks pretty good. But I wasn't authentic and that's what's actually cool. Last month I went out to brunch with my sisters and their kids and let them put Halloween stickers on my face and scream sing "hop like a bunny" outside the restaurant and I was fully present in that moment all weekend. That to me is cool. It's not the only thing that's cool but it IS authentically cool.

TL:DR: Don't be mean, I promise I can still make you feel awful about yourself but I won't because there's nothing less cool than being this bus girl person. Know what you are worth, who matters to you and treat them well and be careful with their hearts and their trust. Don't belittle things you don't understand. Don't waste time trying to guess your way into becoming Harry Styles' next girlfriend (he's taken, ladies). And do date the hot guy at school but know that he will cheat on you. He'll be amazing in bed though. You'll get over him.

Sorry for being so weird! Love you forever, Gina Gina.

This was a wild ride. I want to live inside your brain for a few minutes. 😂 I so fully agree with all of this. Being authentic is being cool. Fully embracing your unique weirdness and being yourself is cool.

Oscar Wilde once wrote, “It is tragic how few people ever ‘possess their souls’ before they die.” As the world feels like it’s falling apart around us, what is the point of wasting time trying to “look cool” by being something you’re not? Be yourself. Get to know yourself on a soul level (my phone changed that to “soup level”…maybe that’s the key 🤣).

And people who belittle things because they don’t personally like something, are just stupid. When my kids were little, their favorite saying was, “don’t yuck my yum” and I think those are good words to live by.

Anyway, bus girls can suck it. The older I get, the less I care about “fitting in” or other people seeing me as “cool” and I realize how much happier I am.

To me, that’s pretty damn cool.

#bus girl anon

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lilisouless · 1 year ago

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Jesper: i don't want to be Joey

Nina: Joey is lovable, Joey has game

Jesper: no one remembers that! people just think of Joey as the dumb one

Wylan: well he wasn't dumb the first three episodes, so you could say he was too cool so he had to be dumbed down

Jesper: please, "cool joey" was boring, thats why he had to be dumb. Anyway i refuse to be Joey, i want to be Rachel

Matthias: Rachel is selfish

Jesper: so what? she is pretty, also it fits me because i am on a relationship with our Ross

Wylan: i am so not Ross!

Jesper: yes, you are , the nerd one

Wylan: i am not a "nerd" i just...is this a set up for me listing reasons why i am not a nerd only to prove i am in fact a nerd so its more dignified if i just accept the hit right now?

Jesper: thats why you are the smart one, rossie

Wylan: i hate you

Nina: if you are Rachel then i am Phoebe, but ...Inej shouldn't be...

Inej: i am fine being Monica, people fear Monica, i like that and she works with knives, its perfect for me

Kaz: so, since i am no fir for Joey, that makes me Chandler

Matthias: but i am not fit for Joey either

Kaz: please, you are the dumb one

Nina: oh! Matthias can be Phoebe´s husband

Kaz: thats actually pretty appropiate, he is played by an actor that never gets old while Matthias looks like he has never been young; its poetic

Wylan: you being chandler is also poetic because Chandler was a guy who everyone in universe thinks is uncool while the audience thinks he is pretty lovable; you on the other hand think you are the coolest one on the world while your audience well...

Kaz: Jesper, your pet is getting bitchy again

Nina: but what about Joey? we can't have a gang without one

Kuwei passing by: don't look at me, i am clearly a Gunther

(next day)

Nikolai: Zoya look! Brekker sent me a letter inviting me to be part of their friend group

Zoya: you know he probably has malicious intentions

Nikolai: who cares?

#netflix shadow and bone #six of crows #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #inej ghafa #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #grishaverse shitpost #sab shitpost

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buckysgrace · 1 month ago

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Time With You

Gator Tillman x fem!oc

Flufftober 2024

Gator and Daphne get their kids ready for Halloween.

Gator dug around in the pantry, trying to recall where he had hidden the last bag of Halloween candy that they had purchased for their trick or treaters. They were going to leave it out on their porch, but they would be gone.

It was already pitch black outside, the stars hidden behind thick clouds as the wind blew heavily against the house. He didn’t see how anyone would be out, as thick snowflakes had already begun to flutter down against the windows. Hopefully it wouldn’t get too bad as they still needed to make their way up to the school.

He yelped when he caught wind of her in the reflection of the window, his hand falling to his chest as his heart momentarily stopped. The bag of candy almost went flying before he roughly gripped it to his chest, keeping it safe. He breathed in deeply, trying to get his pulse back to normal as Piper stared up at him curiously.

“What are you again?” He asked as he took a big gulp, tilting his head before he bent so he could see her better. She reached her hands out, giving his fingers a little squeeze as he examined her.

“Coraline, daddy!” She reminded him, her brown hair hidden away underneath a blue wig. He had been selected to go back and braid her hair earlier, after she claimed that her mother hadn’t done it in the right way. He didn’t mind. He took longer to do it as he relied on how it felt for the most part.

Daphne waddled her way in a second later, hand brushing over her swollen belly before she held the yellow raincoat out towards Piper. She jumped in joy, giggling as she slid it on over his shoulders. He was still confused. “Right,” He nodded his head as he blinked in confusion, “Who is that again?” He whispered towards Daphne, not wanting to earn another eye roll from his daughter. She had accused him of being uncool a week ago, as he didn’t know who someone named Jojo was. He still didn’t.

“We watched the movie last week, remember?” She hummed as Noah ran in after her. He was still only partially dressed, only in his socks and undies. She lifted him gently onto the chair, then began to brush her fingers through Noah’s hair again to get it slicked back, “The one with the talking cat.” She stated as she glanced at him.

“Oh, that one.” He wrinkled his eyes in confusion, trying to remember which movie that had been. They were watching Hocus Pocus tonight, so it couldn’t be that one. Or maybe it was, but he didn’t recall anyone dressing like Piper was.

“Do you know who I am?” Knox spoke up, giving his hand a little tug from his weak side. His messy hair was hidden underneath a red hat and he looked completely different than his twin sister did.

“Hm,” He smiled as he picked up Knox, getting a little giggle from the six year old, “I think you’re a firefighter?” He questioned slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure. He’d grown to become quite fascinated with them recently.

“Yeah!” He grinned from ear to ear, adjusting the little hat on the top of his head. Gator thought of the last run in he’d had with firefighters, how they’d beaten his team at the baseball game they’d thrown together.

“They’re cool, I guess.” He teased as he gave Knox’s cheek a little kiss, frowning at the way his expression fell.

“You guess?” He asked, tone broken as a look of disappointment spread over his features. Gator felt his heart break that time, not meaning to offend him.

“I mean they are. They’re so cool. The best.” He encouraged him, giving him another bounce until he was beaming again. Sometimes he forgot how soft and sensitive his son was, but he wasn’t bothered by it. He just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“I can put out fires!” He continued on, holding onto Gator tightly as he carried him into the living room, “Like Pokey.” He stated, trying to drop his head against Gator’s but being unable to do so with his hat.

“You mean Smokey?” He asked with a little laugh, ensuring that there were no hard toys on the couch before he sat them down. Knox thought it over for a moment before he nodded his head.

“Yeah, him too.” He replied, wiggling over as Piper crawled up on Gator’s other side. He winced at the feeling of her sharp knees against his side before he relaxed, situating her better.

“I’m ready to go.” She stated, bearing Daphne’s smile as she pressed her fingers against his zipper on his chest. Daphne and him had allowed the kids to pick out their costumes this year, which had been Minion onesies. He looked like a joke, but he thought it would be good. No one would recognize him. Daphne always told him that, but he didn’t quite believe it. Or he was just paranoid.

“As soon as Noah is ready.” He reminded her, adjusting her wig on her head so it wasn’t so lopsided. He wondered how long she’d stay in the wig and considering she hadn’t taken it off yet, he supposed she’d be in it for the next few weeks.

“He’s slow.” She whined, giving him a dramatic shake before she began to kick her arms and legs out. He held onto her stomach, keeping her from falling onto the floor.

Piper got along fine with Knox, probably because they shared the womb. And Knox also got along well with Noah. But Noah and Piper did not get along, not at all. Possibly because they were so close in age, or because they were so similar. At times it was like they enjoyed making each other mad.

“Be nice,” He chuckled softly as one of her wild limbs fell against his bad side, “It goes on for a long time anyways.” He blinked his sore eye a few times, not that it would do much good. He couldn’t see shit from it anyways.

“But I really want candy.” She replied as she clicked her yellow boots together. He laughed, sitting forward so she could plop her feet onto the ground again.

“I do too,” Knox nodded his head in agreement, “But I can wait.” He added, smiling brightly as he hugged onto Gator’s arm tighter. He rubbed his back gently, glad that at least one of them was patient.

“Okay,” Daphne’s voice carried in through the kitchen, her footsteps filling the room before being overpowered by Noah’s loud steps on the floor, “He has a surprise for you.” She added as she leaned behind the couch, tapping his head so Gator would look in the right direction.

“Daddy, I you!” Noah proclaimed proudly, holding his little hands on his hips. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore a pair of camo pants and a black sweatshirt. Attached to his wrist was a toy leash, linked to a stuffed german shepherd.

Penny had come into their lives two months ago, a former detection dog that had apparently been too aggressive to be adopted as Daphne had claimed. He had argued with her at first because of the danger towards their kids and because he didn’t need a service dog. He was fine on his own. But she had convinced him that Penny was neither a danger or here to help him. Even though she flocked to his side.

And she had yet to be aggressive, although she did get pretty intense when she caught wind that he had popped one of his nightly gummies into his mouth. He had tried to become sneaky with it, but she always knew.

“Cool,” He grinned, feeling flattered as he knelt down to get a better look at him. He looked just like Gator too, just like Knox did. More often than not, people assumed they were twins. Or that they were all triplets, “You look even more handsome than I do.” He added, kissing his flushed cheek.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Daphne cooed, giving Noah’s shoulder a little squeeze as she fluttered her eyelashes multiple times. She had been fairly emotional this time around, or maybe she was also thinking about how he had missed out on her last pregnancy and delivery. He still felt a lot of guilt about that.

“Hormones?” He questioned, holding his arm out as Noah snuggled up to his side. He buried his face into the crook of his neck, his nose cold against his skin.

“They’re a bitch.” She spit out as she gently dabbed her fingertips at her eyes, trying not to mess up her mascara. Her red hair was braided out of her face, her bangs covering her eyebrows as she took a deep breath.

“Bad word,” Knox said, his brown eyes widening, “Did you hear that?” He turned towards Piper, covering his mouth with his hands as he giggled.

“I apologize.” Daphne said sincerely, her plump lips pressing into a smile. She was wearing a burgundy color on her lips, the one that he loved so much.

“Uh uh, that’s a dollar!” Piper shook her head, holding her hands on her hips in a similar manner that Daphne did when she was sassing someone. His girls were too similar to one another.

“Pay it up,” He teased along with the kids, giving Noah another kiss on his head. Years ago he had been terrified that he wouldn’t bond with his youngest while had been locked away. He was glad that wasn’t true, “And then we can go.”

“How much is a dollar?” Noah questioned as Gator worked on getting his winter jacket on him, then carefully sliding his orange mittens onto his fingers.

“One hundred pennies.” He hummed softly, double checking to make sure his boots were tightly laced before they went outside. Noah preferred to be barefoot and in as little clothes as possible, but it was far too cold for that.

“How much is a penny?” He piped up next, eyebrows furrowing together in curiosity. He met Noah’s big brown eyes, unsure of how to answer him.

“Uh,” He stalled for a second, “You know, your mom was better at math than I was.” He said with a little laugh, holding the door open for them. He met Daphne’s eye, sending her a sly wink as she adjusted her yellow hat on top of her head.

“Mommy!” Noah exclaimed, reaching for her free hand as Knox occupied her other hand. He began to ramble the question off again, speaking too fast to allow her to actually answer.

“Funny,” She teased Gator, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “Let’s go get some candy.” She replied as she walked them out the door, ensuring that they were all out before she unlocked the car.

“You sure you’re okay to walk around?” He asked her seriously, knowing she’d been more exhausted here lately. She only had a few more weeks left, just under a month. He was nervous.

“I’m pregnant, not broken,” She grinned as she kissed his cheek, “But thank you.” She walked down the steps slowly, accepting Piper’s outstretched hand so she didn’t trip again.

“Maybe we’ll have twins again,” He smirked, bidding Penny a quick goodbye before he locked the door, “Or triplets.” There was supposedly just one little baby nesting there, but he wouldn’t mind more. Their names were still a work in process as they had decided to wait until they officially met their baby this time.

“You really do think you’re funny,” She shook her head as she opened the car door, “I’m very amused.” She added, holding a hand out to help the twins inside.

“Daddy is funny.” Noah added a second later, beaming from ear to ear as he glanced back at him. He chuckled as he picked him up, accepting his little hug. He buried his nose against Gator’s neck again, his nose even colder from the breeze that continued to hit them.

“Thank you,” He grinned proudly as he worked on getting him buckled into his car seat, “Does everyone remember what to say?” He looked at all of them, shifting a bit so he could see the buckles better.

“Treat please!” Noah stretched his legs out happily, clapping his hands together as a bright smile spread across his lips again.

“You didn’t say it right.” Piper said quickly, looking at him surprised. Knox shrugged his shoulders.

“I think he said it close enough.” Daphne spoke up from the driver’s seat, shifting it back and forth until she was comfortable. Piper scoffed.

“But it wasn’t right,” She corrected, “It’s trick or treat.” She told Noah, looking at him expectantly as Gator successfully got the buckles tightened around his little tummy.

“Uh,” The little boy turned towards Gator again, eyes wide, “Trick or treat!” He said instead, giggling in joy. He chuckled as he bent over to kiss the top of his head, glad that he didn’t take anything to heart.

“That’s better.” Piper nodded as she turned her attention back towards Knox, looking proud of her younger sibling for once. The dirt crunched underneath his feet as he took a step back, gently shutting the door.

“How much candy do you think you’ll get?” Daphne asked, waiting until he was buckled up before she began to back out of the rocky driveway. He turned in the seat again, spinning around as far as he could so he could get a good look at the kids.

“This much!” Knox exclaimed as he held out his arms as far as they would go, almost bumping his hand into Piper and Noah’s faces. He usually had to sit in the middle to keep the other two from fighting.

“That’s a lot,” Gator grinned at him, “Are you going to share?” He teased, knowing that he’d get candy even if he wanted to or not. He supposed that was the good thing about them having a bedtime still.

“Maybe.” Knox stated bashfully, giggling as he brought his hands back up to his cheeks. Gator assumed that meant no.

“I share!” Noah said, kicking his feet around wildly, “It’s nice!” He nodded his head eagerly, looking at the other two like he expected them to agree with him. They were all cute.

“I’ll have more candy than you.” Piper stated, instantly beginning to frown as Noah wrinkled up his nose and began to snort like a piggy. It was his new favorite comeback, although Gator had no idea what it meant. Just that it annoyed his sister to no end.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun anyways.” Daphne spoke up as she looked in the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Piper for a moment.

“And you always have to pay the candy fee,” Gator added as he locked eyes with each of his children, ensuring that they stayed curious while he spoke, “Otherwise the goblins will getcha.” He added, laughing as the three of them began to shriek. They’d probably end up crammed into his and Daphne’s bed for the rest of the week, but it was worth it.

#Gator x Daphne #Gator Tillman x oc #Gator Tillman x fem!oc #Gator Tillman x original character #Gator Tillman x female original character #Gator Tillman fluff #Gator Tillman is a good dad #Gator Tillman fanfiction #Gator Tillman fic #Daphne Williams #Every Little Thing #Flufftober #Flufftober 2024 #Dad!Gator Tillman

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