#dimensional inspection | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soobnny · 2 months

Text

pandora’s box — kim seungmin

trope: kim seungmin x fem!reader | enemies-to-lovers ; slight angst ; school au ; hanahaki disease ; swearing summary: seungmin chances you on the day you accidentally puke petals in the men’s bathroom. who would’ve thought this one encounter would lead sworn enemy to help you get your longtime crush’s attention? wc: 14.0k words

Kim Seungmin is late… again.

It’s been 10 minutes since your homeroom class with Mr. Choi started, and the boy was nowhere in sight. It seems that only Hyunjin seems somewhat worried for his friend. He knows that if the boy lands one more tardy in his attendance card, he’d be called by the Disciplinary Committee.

Seungmin has five more minutes in his margin to avoid that mark.

Squirming slightly in his seat, Hyunjin sighs out in relief when he hears heavy running. And as predicted, the tall boy with his lanky legs propels himself inside the room, bowing in apology at your teacher before hurriedly making his way to his seat – the one next to yours.

God must’ve been furious at you in your past life for him to instruct Mr. Choi to pair you up with Seungmin for the rest of the year during homeroom class. If the constant teasing during Calculus class and in the hallways isn’t enough, you’re blessed with the mockery of having him as your seatmate.

His hair is frazzled, and he’s quick to drop his backpack on the floor before leaning in to whisper in your ear in the most annoying way possible. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Of course, you don’t miss the overly happy tone in the way he says this. In fairness, classmates and friends alike have a hard time deciphering whether Seungmin is being sarcastic or not, but to you, it is always clear as day – and this is definitely one of those moments.

You tell him to shut up in time for Mr. Choi to pace around the room, dropping a three-dimensional wooden cube on each of your tables. It’s fairly large and it weighs quite a bit judging by the sound it made when it landed on your table.

“Alright, sit closer to your pairs.”

Whoever is Above is a traitor.

Seungmin is more than happy to drag his seat impossibly close to yours, hands instantly reaching out for the cube to lift it up and inspect it.

“Your task for this morning is easy. Just open the box without destroying it.” Your professor’s instructions are simple and easy as he said, yet it makes no sense. Upon seeing the box, it was pretty obvious it was solid. How could you open something solid without breaking it apart?

Mr. Choi creates confusion in the whole class by casting his stupid activity early in the morning. You thank Fuck that homeroom classes don’t bear any standing to your actual grades.

You’re afraid if they did, Kim Seungmin would’ve sabotaged you a long time ago.

Because of the class’ lack of importance to your marks, no one really takes the activity seriously, and it seems that Mr. Choi doesn’t even mind. Maybe he had already anticipated this response. So, he just sits on the table in front waiting for the hour to go by and your classmates proceed to gossip among each other.

Surprisingly, Seungmin seems to be interested in the cube, running his fingers along the sides before placing it back on the table. “Isn’t the easiest way to just tear it apart wood by wood?”

“That’d take too long, and we only have about half an hour left before this class ends.”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything else after that, choosing to pull out his phone and play some mobile games to pass the time. And soon enough, Mr. Choi dismisses the class and tells you to try the activity again next Monday. For now, just leave the cubes on your desk.

The rest of the day, you’re powered by 40% coffee and 60% the thought of running home to sleep.

There’s nothing more beautiful than being comforted by your own sheets and pillows while they lull you to sleep. However, dreams are easily shattered by the reminder that you still have hours before you can make it back home.

This is hours of homework, quizzes, dealing with Seungmin, the obnoxious cackling of students around you, and your sadistic teachers who assign you more and more assignments despite the deadline just passing.

The peak of your satirical life? Being struck with Hanahaki disease.

Fate truly is a bitch.

The petals usually came in waves, twisting at your throat as the flower forced itself down your throat. It comes and goes seldomly, and it’d never been anything more than a throbbing pain in the form of a cough every now and then. Assuming it’d pass quickly, you told yourself to just get used to the feeling. Besides, it was harmless.

You couldn’t be any more wrong.

Time doesn’t even give you a month before you’re hunching over toilet seats with choked gasps and salty eyes. All of a sudden, the waves are no longer stuck in your throat. The flower doesn’t shy away now. Instead, they rise and rise until you’re puking blood and petals.

And it’s horrible. Who knew unrequited love could be so horrible? If you’d known this would happen, maybe you could’ve tried actively avoiding falling in love with Lee Felix. Not that you even planned on falling in love anyway.

Lee Felix was a classmate—a beautiful, genius form of sunlight that you could only wish to be around. When you saw him, you immediately recognized his brilliance. Felix has always reached for the stars, and you were a fool to think you could compare with his greatness. Lee Felix flies, and all you can do is fall.

But even in your fall, Felix swoops downwards to catch you, asking if you’re alright, patting your back in encouragement. And he smiles.

Lee Felix always smiles.

He smiles as he acknowledges every single person in his classes. He smiles at his friends when they’re together in the hallways. He smiles at teachers and strangers alike. He smiles and you curse yourself for hoping to be able to fly with him someday.

Sighing, you push your thoughts away in favor of focusing on the loud ringing of your school bells, signifying the end of your classes for the day.

Walking through the hallways of your school after class should’ve been an easy task. Yet, it seems that fate is not done laughing at you when you feel the familiar, suffocating lump in your lungs. Almost instantly, you’re scrambling through the crowd of people in sheer panic of causing a scene in front of so many students.

You head towards the nearest bathroom, fumbling with the door and staggering into a stall. With your shaking hands on the toilet and knuckles paling from your harsh grip, you allow yourself to vomit the petals that had been tickling at your throat.

Your eyes feel like they're burning and you hate the sight of blood and petals pooling in the water. But after seeing it for so long, you start to get used to your satirical life.

You think you finally catch a break, seated on the bathroom floor with staggering breaths and trying to steady your constricted chest. However, fate doesn’t seem to be done with her silly joke.

“(Name)?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

You refuse to turn around.

Kim Seungmin was not about to see you in such a pitiful state.

“What are you doing in the men’s bathroom?” He’s about to make some stupid joke, anything to annoy you when he spots the drops of blood beside you.

His instant thought is to call the school nurse.

“Are you okay? Is it… the time of month?”

Something in you cringes at his question, squeezing your eyes shut as you shake your head. He remains standing there, staring at you and wondering why you’re retching in front of a toilet if not for the reason of your monthly cycle.

You don’t even have to turn around to know he was just… looking at you, trying to decide on what he should do.

You wave him off, trying to get up from the floor as quickly as you could. There was no way in hell you’d stay there any longer after finding out you had accidentally entered the wrong restroom with Seungmin of all people. However, as you get up, a nauseating rush of pain floods your body, and you’re tumbling over.

Seungmin is quick to catch you before you can fall, gripping onto your arms and staring at you with wide eyes. He blinks in surprise, taking a few steps backwards with you as he settles you near the sink.

“I’ll go flush–”

“No, wait!”

“Oh.”

He sees the yellow petals before you can stop him. He doesn’t know what to say. He’d assumed you were sick, but Hanahaki never crossed his mind. But before he could say anything else, he hears you mutter a quick apology before you’re running out of the bathroom.

Seungmin is glued to his feet, staring down at the toilet before gazing over the spot where you had stood just a few seconds ago.

Kim Seungmin makes it a point to look for you again the next day.

Against your wordless wishes, Seungmin seems to find you easily. He makes a valiant effort to make an appearance at every possible place he’d usually chance you in – the cafeteria, the library, your club room. He doesn’t expect to find you by the school’s back gate leading directly towards a nearby park.

The few steps towards your direction takes a lot more than Seungmin anticipated. He’s starting to question why he was even looking for you in the first place. He double takes, part of him telling him to just flee. This was none of his business, and it wasn’t like you were a friend.

The two of you have been tiptoeing between the term enemy and acquaintance—if there was even anything in between. You’d both been a nuisance to each other and have done nothing more than purposely annoying each other (him more to you). He’d shut your locker closed after you had just opened it, you’d refuse to let him copy your homework answers, and there was nothing really more than those little, annoying interactions.

Still, even though you two weren’t exactly the best of friends, it wasn’t like he wanted you to die.

From the little he knew about the disease, being deadly was one of them. Surgical procedure to get it removed was costly and offered a low success rate. Really, the only option was to let your feelings be reciprocated or get over it.

Seungmin thinks you’re far from getting over it.

Continuing right, maybe he could just catch up to his friends who are by the field. But would he risk being a possible accomplice to your death? Absolutely the fuck not. The only place to go is forward, and after thrice the time it would usually take, he finally walks towards you.

The first thing he discerns is your pathetic attempt at wiping over your lips with the sleeves of your jacket. And then he averts his eyes to the scowl on your face.

“Look, Kim.” You spit his name out with venom laced in your tone. “I’m not really in the mood for your jokes so just leave me alone.” He wants to scoff at you, partially regretting his decision to show a little bit of human decency towards you.

“I know you have Hanahaki.”

You stare at him in silence for a minute, unsure if he was enjoying your misery and wanting to rub in your face that you were sick and possibly dying. He breaches your silence when he notices you weren’t making a response any time soon.

“I wanted to help.” This time you’re the one who scoffs. “You want to help me? Do you seriously expect me to believe that?”

Seungmin lets out a sigh of mild aggravation. “Who else knows?”

“Do you really think I’m going around parading the fact that I have Hanahaki?”

“Then let me help you.” There’s a tone of resignation in his voice as he crosses his arms, staring down at you as you look at him with such an incredulous expression on your face.

“What makes you think I’d let you help me?”

Your voice rings steadily in his ears, and while he wants to compare it to the annoying chime of his alarm, Seungmin is reminded of the reason why he went up to you in the first place. If he knew you were going to be this annoying about it, maybe he shouldn’t have offered to help in the first place.

“So, you’re just going to die then?” His tone is dry and blunt, and he doesn’t look you in your eyes when he speaks. Your defensiveness wavers at the brutal honesty of his words.

Seungmin is the slightest bit shocked at your falter, but he chooses not to say anything. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the reality was settling deep and turning cogs in your brain right now. Your expression falls completely after a second of a heartbeat.

He doesn’t find any pleasure in seeing your face drop so quickly. While he was used to you looking upset or annoyed with him, he’d put your frowning face on the list of things he didn’t like. He thinks it’s because he wasn’t expecting you to react that way.

“Just let me help you.”

You think, is this really a good idea?

Kim Seungmin was far from being a friend, and you don’t understand his sudden determination to help you. Maybe it stemmed from the pathetic sight of you puking out yellow petals in the restroom a day ago, but you doubt that’s enough reason for his sudden want to help.

However, the reality of his words sinks in—so deep until it’s enough to drown you. You’ve resigned long ago that getting Felix to like you back would be near impossible so in exchange, you’ve tried getting over him.

The task proves difficult to accomplish.

And were you really going to allow yourself to just… go like that? It wasn’t like your sickness was getting any better. In fact, it was getting much, much worse. Cue the quiver of your knees as you retch out leaves and petals, serene smiling as you pretend everything’s okay and that you’re used to the fuckery of this disease.

After weighing down your options, it’s clear there’s an obvious answer. So, with disdain in your voice, you respond to the boy in front of you.

“Fine.”

Your response to your longtime rival’s preposition surprised even Seungmin himself. While he knew you needed the help, he was still slightly appalled by the fact that you had agreed to get help from him of all people. You could’ve easily rejected his offer, could’ve told someone else of your predicament and get their help.

Instead, you sigh in defeat and accept Seungmin’s help.

“Meet me here tomorrow after class.” With a blank expression on his face and the demand rolling off his tongue, he excuses himself.

Something tells you this isn’t one of your smartest decisions.

You meet Seungmin where he tells you the next day.

It’s a little hard to believe you’re taking instruction from the boy who had been nothing more than an irritation in your school social life. However, here you are, leaning against the gate and waiting for that same boy to meet you.

You’re starting to regret your decision before you can even milk any assistance out of him.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He really had a knack for being late – not just during homeroom period. He’s panting, hand outstretched to lean against a post with his cheeks flushed. “When are you never?”

Seungmin fights the urge to roll his eyes at your comment. “Last period held me up, but I’m here now.”

You hum, crossing your arms before peering at the boy. “Well, then. What do you suggest I do?” You cringe at the way you ask him. Earlier on your way to the back gate, you had told yourself to try and be more civil. He was offering to help you. It wasn’t like he needed to do something upon witnessing you the other day, but he still decided to help you.

“Don’t you think you should tell me who it is you’re so in love with first?”

Somehow, that never really clicked in your head. You had thought you could go through this whole arrangement without so much as uttering Lee Felix’s name. Only now do you think it’s stupid you’d even thought that in the first place.

“Oh.” Of course, Seungmin doesn’t miss the conflicted look etched on your face, and soon enough you’re looking around to see if anyone’s possibly listening in on your conversation. He sighs, tapping your wrist before motioning for you to follow him as he exits the gates. “I didn’t really think about that.”

He leads you to the park, and he allows you the silence to think on the short walk there. When he finds a bench, he sits down and pats the seat next to him to tell you to sit down. “You ready to tell me?”

You stab the air, refusing to beat around the bush this time around. Might as well get this over with. With a deep breath, and a rather constipated look on your face, you blurt it out.

“Lee Felix.”

You never thought you’d ever tell anyone about your feelings, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Seungmin blinks in surprise.

He takes a moment to process the information.

Lee Felix, one of Seungmin’s best friends, is the reason why you’re puking flowers.

“Okay. Okay, that’s good then.”

“How is any of this good?” There’s an incredulous expression etched on your face as you hear Seungmin utter the word ‘good’ in the midst of your situation. You hardly thought it was a word to even come to mind after telling him who it was.

“Don’t be stupid. Think about it. You like Felix. He’s one of my closest friends, I’m in such a good position to help you.” Something in the way he says this with a glint of hope tells you that there is a silver lining to this whole situation—even if it’s ever just a little line.

“I’m having a hard time believing any of this to be good. Wouldn’t your being close to him make my feelings all the more obvious?”

“But we want it to be obvious, though. We want him to take the interest as bait.”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to come to terms with the decision you had made to let Kim Seungmin (of all people) to help you with the stupid disease itching at your throat. Somehow, you had failed to consider how hard it would be to actually hold a conversation with the boy first and foremost.

By the end of your day, Seungmin concludes that a good first step is for him to plant the idea of you in Felix’s head—to which you contort by asking him how you could trust him to not sabotage you instead and say horrible things about you.

He looks at you with the blankest expression on his face as his response.

You give in.

It wasn’t a horrible first idea. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to remind Felix of your existence—even if you were just a mere fish in the sea for him.

When the sun starts to show hint of resting, Seungmin walks you home as his house isn’t that far from your own. Before he says goodbye, he tells you to meet him again the next day.

And so it began.

When Seungmin was with Felix, he’d discreetly mention your name, every now and then, mixed with a combination of some of Felix’s interests. Felix is taken aback, wondering why his friend is suddenly uttering the name of his sworn enemy.

Seungmin makes an effort to tell him you were friends now, that he just didn’t know you enough to conclude that you were actually kind of fun to hang out with and that Felix should probably try to know you too. His statement isn’t entirely a lie if you consider the latter part.

So, he continues his plan.

He mentions you just enough to make your presence and interests known to Lee Felix in a better light – not one that just paints you as the girl Seungmin loves to annoy. And he walks with you to the cafeteria sometimes so you can greet Felix when you drop Seungmin off their table.

You start to meet up more frequently, new ideas coming up every time you do, and something brewing after each conversation.

Of course, this did not come without suspicion from your friends. Immediately, Karina and Yeji come running to sit by each of your side after you yet again walk in the cafeteria with Kim Seungmin. “Don’t you hate him or something?” Yeji asked, and Karina added, “Yeah. He’s like the bane of your existence. What chapter did we miss?”

Seungmin also faces some backlash from Jisung, as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin. “I thought she wasn’t your type” and “Didn’t she annoy you?” being the popular phrase they’d use to criticize his blooming friendship with you – if he could even call it that.

Still, both of you agreed to reply to each prying question about each other with "It’s top secret; none of your business" with the additional grimace when they’d imply something romantic between the pair of you.

Felix is starting to take notice of you which stretches a victorious grin on Seungmin’s face. It had been a good few days since he had initiated his plan, and it was nice to see some progress. Especially when Felix asks about you during recess one afternoon.

“Is blue (name)’s favorite color?” Seungmin perks up at Felix’s sudden question, taking the sandwich out of his mouth before following Felix’s line of sight.

“What makes you ask that?” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he leans to nudge Felix teasingly.

“Nothing! She just wears a lot of blue.” Felix’s mumbling now, and it’s a clear sign that he’s taken interest in you. He better have.

The forceful manner in which Seungmin has to compliment you subtly around Felix is taking a toll on him. He didn’t think he could ever say so many nice things about you in the span of four days, but here he was.

Seungmin thinks it's worth it. Felix might’ve tried to seem nonchalant, but Seungmin knows him better than that. He can’t wait to tell you the good news as he walks you home again.

This is the first time you’re meeting with Kim Seungmin on a weekend.

Before this, there had never been any reason to see him outside of school. Now, you’re seated by a table in the park where couples usually frequent to have picnics together.

He’s late again, but you’re appreciative of the time you have to yourself before you have to even think about the next steps to your demise.

You don’t really have long when Seungmin’s lanky legs show up in front of you again, panting like he did when he was late to Mr. Choi’s class a few days ago. You offer a small wave to acknowledge his presence and he merely nods his head, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle he has in hand before taking a huge gulp.

Seungmin’s hands collided with the table, rattling the transparent bottle that held his water, with some of the drink spilling to the wooden surface. “Okay. Everyone knows the first step to someone’s heart is to be friends with their friends.”

Wow. Straight to the point. Not even an exchange of pleasantries.

“Does being enemies with one of them count?” You lean away from the table a little, careful as to not let any of the spilt water drip on you.

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you wait for him to continue the brilliant plan he had conjured on the way to you today.

“Whatever. Anyways, I guess you can start with Hyunjin and Jisung. I’ll tell them to come hang out with us this afternoon.”

“This afternoon already?”

It’s clear you’re in disbelief from the way your voice raises in volume and your eyes widen at the sudden proposition to hang out with his friends in a few hours. You were never the best at socializing in general, so you could only imagine the horrors that flashed in your mind at even just the thought of making new friends and hanging out with them for hours all in the same afternoon.

“Well, yeah. We’re quite literally racing against time in case you forgot.”

And he did just that.

It seems that his friends have nothing to do when you spot two tall boys animatedly talking to each other while navigating through the park. The moment they see Seungmin, they’re sending huge waves and pushing each other to get to you first.

“Hyunjin hyung, Jisung hyung. This is (name).”

The pushing doesn’t stop – it’s just that now, it’s directed at Seungmin. He breaks free from the spot in between them in timid annoyance, choosing to stand next to you instead.

Your confidence falters, and you find yourself unconsciously crawling back in your shell, smiling at them politely before staring at the ground. Seungmin’s never seen this side of you, and he doesn’t understand why it’s making him flustered.

The brunette boy with the rosy cheeks and the brightest smile, Jisung, shakes your hand, telling you that it was nice to meet you before Hyunjin follows. An unfamiliar smile remains on your lips, shaking their hands back, albeit a little wobbly.

“Seungmin has told us a lot about you.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just laugh nervously.

“All the bad, most horrible things.” Seungmin has a comforting hand resting on the small of your back, rubbing gently. “Nothing to worry about.”

Your first genuine laugh leaves your lips. It’s such a Seungmin thing to say, and you find yourself being pulled back on Earth by the simplest of statements. Seungmin smiles victoriously to himself at being able to help ease your nerves a little.

With introductions out of the way, you’re relieved to admit that falling into casual conversation with Hyunjin and Jisung actually came easy. And as time passes, you find it more and more comfortable to start inputting your own thoughts into the conversation.

You had decided to eat out together, and the boys kindly offered to pay for you.

That’s how you find yourself seated beside Seungmin, and across from Hyunjin and Jisung who were, once again, talking about anything and everything – but you didn’t mind. It was nice to have someone lead the conversation.

“Okay, so I have a poop story.” Jisung starts.

“Oh god.” Seungmin’s quick to lean back in his seat in protest, arm brushing against yours in the process.

“It’s not that bad, it’s not that bad!”

“Is this about last night?” Hyunjin asks suspiciously, and with the mention of the night’s events, Jisung just starts laughing to himself, slapping his knees before nodding his head in response.

“So, I really had to go… poop! At a gas station. But, there was a guy in the stall next to mine, so I was feeling shy. So I pretend I was just fixing my pants or whatever – so I was unbuttoning my pants and buttoning them and unbuttoning… and washing my hands. And then I left.”

Although it isn’t the funniest story, something about the way Jisung narrates has you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin laughing in your seats. You don’t understand why seeing Seungmin laugh and talk to his friends genuinely makes you hold him in a slightly better light. At least for the day.

You hate to admit you don’t actually know anything about Seungmin, except that he was an absolute menace. But, while he was still that same Seungmin, you could see there was much more to him, especially seeing the way he interacted with his friends – and the way he would ask for your input at certain moments in the conversation in genuine attempts to involve you in the group.

You never knew he was that observant, and considerate of your feelings.

Considerate.

It’s a word you never thought you’d ever put in the same sentence as Seungmin, but here you were, thinking he was being the most considerate from the way he glanced in your direction occasionally and observed your body language before joining you in the conversation if you looked a little more comfortable to pitch in.

In no time, the two boys warmed up to you. The sky is a mix of colors by the time you finish your little hangout, spreading like a pastel oil slick over the infinite sky. Seungmin’s walking you home, like he always did since the start of your plan.

“See? It wasn’t all that bad.” The words he tells you mirrors the same ones he texts his friends at the end of the day.

seungmo (6:21pm): i told u she can be a good person !!! i’m way over our enemies arc. we’re friends now

hyunjinnie (6:23pm): i guess she isn’t that bad afterall

hanji (6:24pm): LMAO she’s actually kinda cute n shy i think she’d get along w felix a lot I esp like the part when she would argue w u like 😭

hyunjinnie (6:25pm): they tell the same jokes and r so so good at roasting seungmin <3 my favorite genre of jokes. aaaah it’s like felix was there with us in spirit

Seungmin feels proud of the success of his own plan and reflects on his friends’ words. You really… weren’t all that bad to spend time with.

The plan stretches for a few more days.

Because Felix was rather social, you made it a point to become mere acquaintances with nearly everybody (despite your earlier protests), which made your friends question your actions yet again. “When did you become so friendly?”, asked Karina.

“I’m trying not to die. Let me be.”

They take it as a joke.

"Step two!"

“Already, Kim?”

It had just been three days since you had executed his first step of getting along with Felix’s friends, and now he was yet again bugging you over the next step of his foolproof plan.

“You have to get into his interests.” Seungmin ponders for a moment, before he lifts a finger in the air. “Dancing.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes! Lucky for you, I’m a really good dancer.”

You sigh. “Are you just trying to get me to embarrass myself?”

“I’m not! But now that you mention it…” He laughs, bouncing back a little when you go to punch his arm. “Come on, show me some moves. Just so I know what I’m working with.”

You flail your arms with the most uninterested look on your face, staring directly at the boy to tell him you were, in fact, not having it.

“Now that’s just sad. Who’s gonna fall in love with you if you dance like that?”

Later that day, Seungmin takes you to the dance team’s club room. When you walk in, there are already some students there – no doubt practicing for a project or an upcoming practical exam. He walks you to a less crowded area located in the corner of a room where it’s a little more isolated.

“This is where I usually practice.” He drops his bag on a chair, motioning for you to stand with him in front of the big mirror. Still dejected, you walk grumpily towards where he’s waiting for you.

Silently, he rests his hands on your shoulders and pulls back a little to fix your form before dropping his arms.

“I still don’t get how this is supposed to help me.” You try to keep your posture fixed after Seungmin had taken it upon himself to point it out, staring at the both of you through the mirror with a slight tilt in your head.

“When Felix finds out you dance too, he’ll be head over heels for you.”

You glare at the boy. “That’s subjective.”

“I’ll just teach you the basics today. Oh, and I hope you’re free after classes cause I’ll be dragging you here whenever Felix practices as well.”

With wide eyes, you finally turn to face him properly, shaking your head repeatedly as you inch closer and closer to the boy. “I am not letting him see me dance!”

“That’s why we’re here today, so you don’t embarrass yourself completely.”

You grumble, slouching your figure as you cross your arms before straightening your back again. You tell him to show you what he’s teaching you first, dropping to sit on the ground as you motion for him to start dancing. If he was going to let you learn to move with your two left feet, he might as well show you first.

You’re embarrassed to say your jaw drops the moment Seungmin starts dancing, eyes being unable to move elsewhere but on him. You knew he could dance, but you didn’t know the extent to his talents. He was effortless, with his hands and his feet, and the way he moves synchronously to the rhythm of the music he’s playing on his phone.

His movements are so clean, and he has a certain fluidity to his movements. It hurts your pride to see how great he is without even trying. He’s simply showing you what he’s going to teach you with minimal effort, and yet he’s still able to make it look picture perfect.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” There’s a smirk on his face you want to wipe off so bad. Smiling wickedly, you chuck a water bottle in his general direction which he catches with ease.

“Haha, very creative. Definitely haven’t heard of that one before.”

He tosses the water bottle back at you so you can put it safely on the ground before motioning for you to get up yet again. “If you think I can do all that, you’re extremely wrong.”

There’s amusement that’s clear as day on Seungmin’s face, but he chooses to just roll his eyes in response, reassuring you he’ll simplify the steps to your liking. His statement is half true as he maneuvers your arms and legs through a few sets of moves.

You never knew Seungmin was as patient as he was, not at all visibly upset when you don’t get it right away, or you need a little time to really understand a small step. Instead, he watches attentively and makes sure you don’t hurt yourself in the process.

“Wait, you’re doing that wrong. Don’t… don’t twist your arm like that, you’ll end up hurting yourself.”

You don’t even notice he’s behind you, body inches away from being pressed against yours as he grabs hold of you to set your hand back down to your side. Then, he lifts it back up as if a puppet, directing you in a move that feels much more comfortable now than the way you were doing it earlier.

“Oh, uh… thanks.” He simply nods his head, moving back from behind you and telling you to try it again as he sits in front of you. When you do the first few steps seamlessly, a smile forms on Seungmin’s face as he claps his hands.

“You aren’t so bad afterall. Just a little.” Your lips form a pout, walking forward to sit beside where he’s at on the floor, wiping at your sweat as you gratefully accept the water bottle he offers in your direction.

“Let’s take a break.”

He laughs again when you roll your head back and make a noise of relief, moving to comfortably lie down on the smooth wooden floor of the dance room.

“My body aches everywhere.”

“You’ll get used to it.” An extra towel is thrown on your face and you take it off to see Seungmin not even looking at you anymore. You just mumble a quick ‘thank you’ before using it to wipe at the sweat on your face and neck.

A silence falls in between the two of you—one that’s filled with your jagged and heavy breathing. It’s the first comfortable silence you experience with the boy. You used to think it was impossible. He always had something to say, and you never backed down from retorting. When you weren’t arguing, there was always some sort of tension lingering in the air from your dislike towards one another.

It feels different at the moment. You find that you don’t quite mind this.

“What if you drown it by drinking too much water?”

That’s definitely a way to get you out of your head.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m pretty sure plants aren’t supposed to have too much water. Besides, how can it even get sunlight when it’s inside you?”

Even from a distance, Seungmin could tell you were trying to bite back a grin, shaking your head at his sudden question. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s how Hanahaki works.”

“How are you so sure?” You’re holding back a laugh now at his absurd suggestions, especially when he’s holding onto an unopened water bottle to accompany his advice.

“Plants die from too much water, do they not?”

“Kim, I am not drinking a shit ton of water to drown the plant. If anything, that’s just gonna give me multiple visits to the bathroom.”

“Suit yourself.” Seungmin doesn’t dwell much on how you flat out made fun of his suggestion, instead, he clings onto how strange his family name sounds coming from your mouth. He thinks you’ve known each other long enough to solicit his first name from you, but it seems you refuse to hand it to him.

He doesn’t understand why.

‘Seungmin’ would be so much more comfortable to say, instead of a flat one-syllable last name that feels clumsy to fit in a sentence. With the time he’s spending with you, he sometimes forgets he’s just a last name to you.

He can’t help but wonder if he’ll always just be a last name to you.

When he notices he’s been quiet for too long, he sits up a little straighter and finally tunes back into the conversation. “Well, I’m out of other ideas. Unless… pesticide?”

“You are so stupid.”

The tone in your voice is significantly changed from one of annoyance to a more endearing, joking manner. You don’t exactly know when this shift started, but you like the slip of normal conversations with the boy. It was way easier than arguing.

“I was kidding! Come on. Let’s run through the choreography again.”

You whine out a couple complaints, kicking your feet in the air like a child before getting back up from where you were lying down. He simply laughs, dragging you back in the middle of the room. It’s funny to Seungmin, how the more you peeled back the walls you had built around you, the more he sees himself getting along with you.

Seeing a friend in you didn’t seem as far-fetched as it used to be.

It was like you were slowly proving his initial impressions of you wrong. That, hidden behind that harsh exterior was someone who had the capability to joke around without being so uptight about it. Someone who was more genuine with a heart that felt… comfortable.

In moments like these, when you’re laughing and dancing together, he sometimes forgets the circumstances you’re under. It doesn’t feel like he’s hanging out with you just to help you with Hanahaki anymore.

It feels like hanging out with a friend now.

"So, what’s step three?" You ask Seungmin, mid-body roll, still working on your dancing. "Nothing too major, please. I’m busy with dance lessons."

Seungmin’s mouth falls in disbelief, rolling his head back in laughter. He knows you’re joking around, mocking him even, but he doesn’t feel the need to defend himself like he usually did when you argue with him.

"Alright, damn, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” His hands are lifted in the air, as if in trouble. You slap them back down.

“So, is it something major or not?”

“If you’re a good chef, it should be simple," is his answer. "Cook his favorite meal. You know, food is the key to a man’s heart and all that. Plus, that boy loves to bake."

That afternoon, Seungmin is invited to your home for the first time. He’s respectful, greeting your older sibling who simply eyes you as a signal to tell them all about the boy you had invited over later. You’ve never mentioned him before.

You shoo them away before guiding yourself and the boy towards your kitchen.

Seungmin takes the time to admire your small, comfortable home. There are beautiful pieces of furniture decorating your living room, and a few paintings hung on the walls. A tall plant stands by the corner of the room. His eyes are ripped away when you make it to the kitchen.

With the ingredients of tteokbokki planted on your counter (thank God Seungmin knows a little bit about Felix’s specific preferences), you stare at him as if waiting for him to do something. “What are you looking at me for?”

“Don’t just stand there and watch me cook. Go sit in the living room or something!”

“Geez, I’m sorry. Didn’t know looking at you was a punishable sin.”

“I just get pressured easily.” You push him away, leading him towards your living room and sitting him down. And then it’s radio silence from you for a good fifteen minutes – that is until wafts of smoke flows its way towards where Seungmin’s seated.

Having a hard time controlling his laughter, he shakes his head and marches up next to you. “Remind me again what I told you to do.”

“Cook.”

“And what did you end up doing? He asks, cocking an eyebrow at the smell of smoke in the air.

“I cooked!”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, crossing his arms while shaking his head lightly at your desperate attempt at cooking. “Right, of course you did.”

“I almost burnt my whole house down, but I did it, see?” You raise the platter to his face. Sure enough, Felix’s favorite meal is there, cooked decently enough to be considered edible. Seungmin forces you to bring it in a container to school the next day despite your protests.

It comes as a surprise to most of your classmates when they spot you talking to Seungmin so early in the morning, and so decently. When they saw you marching up to his direction with a container in hand, they were already assuming an argument would ensue. However, they’re hit with the sight of you talking to him like a normal human being.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“Just tell Felix how you feel while you offer the food you cooked.”

“I am not about to confess to Felix while giving him something that’s barely edible.” You deadpan, shoving the container around.

“Just do it! He’ll appreciate your efforts.”

“Oh, wow. What do you expect me to do?” You laugh, and Seungmin rolls his eyes before taking the box from you. Jokingly holding out the container in front of you, Seungmin says, “It’s so simple, just do this. Hey, I’ve liked you for a long time now, and here, I cooked your favorite food for you. Hope you like them!”

Right on time, Wonyoung and Yujin walk past you, catching your conversation and immediately halting in their tracks.

In chorus, the pair of hostile girls yell, “You like her?”

Upon realizing the connotation of their question, Seungmin couldn’t help but walk backwards in disgust. “As if! She’d be lucky to be with me.”

“Excuse me? You’d be the lucky one!”

You simply stared at him, and how much more bearable he’s gotten since you started to talk more. Suddenly, it occurred to you that maybe you’d started to develop feelings for Seungmin… but then the thought of you together comes to mind, and when you felt an indefinable feeling in your chest, you concluded that was simply not the case. Right?

“I can’t believe you said I’d be lucky to be with you. Can you imagine?” You exclaimed incredulously, your arms wailing around to prove a point. “You’ve been blessed because we made a deal. If we didn’t, I would’ve kicked your ass a long time ago.” Like the child you are, you stick your tongue out, crossing your arms.

Seungmin’s bone marrow feels cold at the thought of dating you. He doesn’t want a label for this feeling, and forces it down his throat, tuning into whatever you’re saying instead as you throw the container by the nearest trash can.

The next time Seungmin sees you isn’t in the best circumstances.

When he doesn’t find you by the back exit of the school where he usually met up with you to walk you home, an unsettling feeling creeps at the back of his throat. It’s enough to have him looking for you around the campus.

It wasn’t easy to find you, but the moment he does, he’s quick to kneel down next to your slouched figure, slipping his bag off and gathering your hair up in his arms so it doesn’t get in the way of your face as you puked up dried flowers and blood.

Seungmin’s reminded again of your circumstances.

Rubbing a hand down your back, he helps you spit out the remains of flowers itching at your throat. “Hey, it’s okay. Just puke it out.”

There are tears welling in your eyes from puking too much, hands planted on the ground as he shields your body from anyone passing by the fields. He thanks the heavens that your classes had ended earlier than others so there weren't many students littering the fields.

When you fall back to sit on the ground, you’re nothing but a figure of ragged breathing.

“Do you have a hair tie?” You shake your head, eyes fixed on the ground as embarrassment boils in your stomach. “Just go home, Kim. I’m fine.”

He dismisses you, hand rummaging through his bag so he can hand you a handkerchief to wipe at your mouth. “You must be thirsty.” He’s mumbling to himself, looking around for the nearest vending machine.

“I said it’s fine.” You don’t know why you’re angry, but you are. The tone in your voice sends the worst kind of shivers in Seungmin’s skin, especially when you’re stubbornly trying to get up and get away from him.

Maybe you’re angry because despite your attempts, you were still struck by this god-awful disease. Maybe you’re angry because you’re being punished for liking someone. Maybe you’re angry because Seungmin had to catch you while you were puking.

The overwhelming feeling of anger and pain feels so heavy, weighing down your shoulders, and you realize belatedly that the tears have started dripping down your cheeks until one of Seungmin’s thumbs goes to brush over them.

“I don’t want you to pity me.” The initial harshness in your voice has morphed into something that sounds more pained… a more broken anger. It makes him feel uneasy. Seungmin finds he prefers the unabashed anger.

He still has an arm around you so you don’t fall on the ground completely from the exhaustion of retching your throat out, still smoothing down your hair. “Hey, this is just a little crack in your step, okay?”

Seungmin sighs when you refuse to look at him, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping at your tears. He doesn’t need to be asked to comfort you, he just does. And in all honesty, he isn’t even sure why he went looking for you when you didn’t meet up with him. It wasn’t like he needed to walk you home.

Still, he finds himself crouched down next to you at this moment, and he doesn’t regret his decision one bit. He prefers being there for you over the comfort of his home.

“Are you done being angry?” You laugh stupidly, hitting the hand that’s ghosting over your cheek. You feel ashamed for throwing up in front of him, but even more for taking your anger out on the boy who had been helping you for the past few weeks.

“I’m sorry. I was being stupid.” You rub at your bloodshot eyes, looking up at Seungmin who simply shakes his head. “It’s alright. Are you thirsty?”

“It’s okay, I’ll probably just buy a bottle of water in the cafeteria. You can go home ahead.”

Seungmin goes over your offer. If he goes home now, he’d be playing video games and lounging in his house without a care in the world. And he has homework. He stands up, guiding you to your feet as well.

Then, he moves a hand on the small of your back and starts walking the opposite direction of the school’s exit, shoulders touching as he walks next to you.

“I’ll pay for your water.”

The next day, you pretend as if you hadn’t choked your lungs out the day before. You simply ask Seungmin what the next step in his plan was.

He doesn’t ask you any more questions.

“There’s this plushie Felix really wants from the arcade. We went there a few days ago, and he was going crazy, losing all his pennies for it.”

You nod your head, looking up at the boy. “So… arcade?”

On your way there, you find yourselves talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. There’s conversations about dancing… your horrible cooking… your friends… homeroom class and that cube.

“I don’t get how he wants us to open it. It’s solid.” He talks animatedly, hands flailing around at the thought of the stupid cube Mr. Choi keeps bringing up every homeroom class.

Are you supposed to smash it to the ground until it opens? Bring a hammer to school to get the job done right away? Why did he explicitly not allow you to break the cube if he wanted it open? None of it makes sense in Seungmin’s head.

“Maybe he wants us to think outside the box.”

He simply stares at you. “Think outside the box, my ass. I really don’t think there’s any other way. It has to be a trick question.”

“Maybe there’s a hidden button? I don’t know… but there has to be a way to look into it without breaking it, right? Why else would Mr. Choi bring it up?”

Seungmin finds himself intrigued with your train of thought. “So, you really think there’s a way to open it without smashing it? That… this whole thing isn’t some sort of trick question from Mr. Choi?”

You hum, nodding your head. “There must’ve been a lot of hard work into building that cube. I’m sure there’s a way to peek inside without shattering it completely.”

The conversation drifts after that, moving elsewhere—but Seungmin finds himself still thinking about your response. He supposes he still has the next homeroom class to figure it out.

When you get to the arcade, it takes you forever to win the chick plushie in the claw machine. You’re starting to wonder why you let Seungmin talk you into this – when you could’ve spent much less just buying the plushie instead of trying to win it.

You’re well aware of the scam that is a claw machine. They always bounce off the moment you grab a stuffed toy inside so it falls back down before it has the chance to make its way to you. And yet, you don’t want to leave anytime yet. Especially not when Seungmin’s on the machine next to yours, making it a competition on who gets a plushie first.

It’s more fun like this, when you’re joking around and teasing each other on being losers despite none of you winning a single plushie. Who knew you were capable of joking around with Kim Seungmin in a lighthearted manner?

You find the time spent with Seungmin at the arcade more enjoyable than anything else. It doesn’t matter that it’s been approximately 60 minutes and you have long abandoned the claw machine to play the other games in the area.

“Wanna race me?”

“You’re paying.”

Seungmin grumbles, but still hands you a few tokens to insert in the machine. And then you’re playing again. Of course, he wins and feels the need to rub it in your face in which you reply with a very mature stick out of your tongue.

He’s very persistent in winning the games, but you don’t really mind when he’s paying for your machines and making sure you’re having a fun time as well. He reasons it’s because you need to maximize the time you have there instead of dwelling on the disappointment of not being able to get the plushie you came here for – the very reason you went here in the first place.

He’s been pretty successful so far.

By the end, you win much more than a single fox plushie. You have your own Pochacco stuffed toy that he had won and given to you, saying something about how he was too old to have a plushie and that you better keep it instead, and some cotton candy as a prize from the tickets you had acquired at the numerous games you played.

Seungmin has a proud grin on his face as you hug onto the stuffed toy, munching on your cotton candy before looking at the boy curiously. “Wait… should I just give this to him instead?” You nudge the plushie in your arms, in which Seungmin is quick to say a firm no.

“He doesn’t like Pochacco anyway.”

You gasp. “How could he not like Pochacco? Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe buddy.”

He laughs at the way you speak to the stuffed toy, guiding you outside the arcade and towards the path to your house. The rest of the time is spent in silence. Much to Seungmin’s disappointment, your house is pretty near the arcade so it doesn’t take long before you’re parting ways again.

“Thanks for walking me home again, Kim.”

He brushes off your remark, smiling at you and sending you a thumbs up. He stands there for a moment, waiting for you to get in safely before he’s off to start walking towards his own home.

On the way home, he wonders in horror – since when did he start feeling disappointment when dropping you off?

It’s been a few weeks since Seungmin has started to help you. You’ve grown a little closer to Felix, holding a few conversations here and there in school, and you have to admit – it’s pretty nice.

Felix seems like such a great friend.

Friend.

You stare at nothing in particular as you ponder over your newfound realization. Since when did you start referring to your longtime crush as “friend”? Since when did you stop thinking too much about him at all?

You’re unsure if you’re feeling better because you’re moving on or if it’s because you’re growing closer to Lee Felix. You don’t think about it too much – you’re just happy to be feeling better at all.

Today, there’s no plan to commence. You’re simply walking home with Seungmin.

You don’t know when it’s become part of your routine. For quite a while, you’d only walk together to discuss your plan on getting Felix to like you back, but the habit of waiting for you after class has stuck around and you find yourselves walking home together despite having nothing to talk about.

“So…”

“So…?” You look at him with a questioning expression, gripping onto the straps of your backpack.

“Mr. Choi’s cube.”

You simply laugh, shaking your head before looking at the round ahead of you again. “You’re seriously not over that?”

“I don’t even know why I’m so curious about it myself.” Seungmin shudders, and amusement falls on your face at his own declaration.

Still, you allow him to talk about it. You hate to admit but the cube has also left you quite perplexed. Seungmin’s been adamant about the fact that it really is just some sort of trick question, but your persistence on a way to do it has him grasping on straws.

He doesn’t know when he started valuing your opinion so much, and why honey drips in everything you say, and why colors seem to brighten when you smile. Like right now, as you’re looking at him with wide eyes and a small smile playing at your lips as you tease him on his obsession for Mr. Choi’s cube.

And then, without warning, rain pours.

“Oh shit!” A hand meets yours almost immediately as he’s running to find some shelter. He doesn’t even think twice about it – he doesn’t ponder much on that either.

“Wait… I have an umbrella.”

“Is it enough for the both of us?”

He pulls out the umbrella from his bag, opening it up and holding it above both of your heads. And then, you’re back out in the rain, shoulders touching so you both fit under his small umbrella. The closed proximity forces you to hear both of your drumming hearts and feel the warmth from his arm as it brushes against yours every moment you walk.

When you arrive home, a second and a half passes before he’s able to recollect himself. Something in the way you shyly say goodbye at your front porch with a small “thank you” has him looking at you like something’s changed.

Something in the way you smile at him, a smile he doesn’t recognize, a smile that’s never been aimed at him before has him looking at you stupid. And you make it so much worse when you wrinkle your nose at his staring.

“Is there something on my face?”

He’s wordless, doesn’t know what to say — not with your eyes crinkling like that and your cheeks flushed from the cold of the rain, and your hair a little messy from initially getting wet from the rain, and your stupid smile.

How did you manage to get a grip on him without his consent? How dare you take advantage of his sensibility to steal into his affections just like that? He never used to care, comfortable with his place outside of your walls. He’d gone as far as playfully drawing graffiti on them, keeping a comfortable distance. Now, he finds himself wanting to break them.

“Seungmin?”

His tongue feels like it’s tying itself over and over again, and he doesn’t understand why his heart is beating extremely fast or why he feels so hot and wordless, or why he keeps staring at your lips? No one’s ever taught him about this before.

Still, being silent for too long, Seungmin fights with himself and finally opens his mouth.

“You look stupid.”

And then he’s off to run home.

His grandmother greets him when he gets home, and she chuckles to herself at seeing the wet patch on her grandson’s shoulder. “I see you cared for someone today.”

“What do you mean, grandma?” Seungmin looks at her confused, and she laughs quietly.

“I’m guessing you don’t remember. When you were younger, you wore that wet patch on your shoulder with pride. You told us it was the mark of a professional umbrella sharer, and that now, we didn’t have to get sick.”

She smiles to herself, patting Seungmin’s shoulder and giving him a sweet kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you at dinner. Go get changed so you don’t get sick.”

Seungmin nods his head, mouth agape at the story his grandmother just shared. He doesn’t even remember angling the umbrella in a way that you wouldn’t get wet in the rain. It just… came to him naturally, instinctually.

Her words repeat in his head.

He cared for someone today.

Apparently, Seungmin’s grandma was the perfect catalyst for him to realize his own feelings.

He doesn’t realize at first — brushing off the butterflies, the squeeze in his heart, the staring. He doesn’t even realize it when he looks forward to walking you home on most days.

No, his grandmother had realized before him, and like a domino, he fell over at her realization.

What was any of this supposed to mean? Sure, Seungmin knows what having a crush feels like. He’s had crushes before, but what he feels for you is different. Because in the past, Seungmin has never felt the need to pull up Google and search:

what is the feeling more than a crush but less than love

is it normal to like someone who ure trying to help get with ur friend who is her crush becuz she has hanahaki disease

hanahaki disease quizlet

how to know if u have a crush

Seungmin has never known having a crush on someone would be this complicated and this… crazy. But he has also never known the excitement of talking to you and wishing you goodnight when he drops you off at your house.

Disliking you was much easier than whatever the hell he’s feeling right now. He used to last days without looking at you, and now he’s looking for you in every room he walks in. Teasing you was something out of mere fun to get in your skin, now he does it to solicit a smile from you.

Maybe he doesn’t need google after all. The answer was simple, and it was right there.

He likes you.

He might be falling in love with you.

Hyunjin and Jisung notice the shift in his behavior and in your dynamic in general. They choose not to meddle, even though Jisung really really wants to. Especially when they catch Seungmin staring at you from across the room with the most lovesick smile plastered on his face.

But what was he supposed to do with these feelings? He’s still helping you get with Lee Felix.

The thought leaves a feeling similar to frustration at the back of his throat. How could he have allowed this in the first place? Sometimes he wishes he never offered to help you, but could he really? Now that he knows how it feels to truly be with you?

You’d always had this wall around you, but you’ve allowed him to peel the bricks back one by one with every interaction with him. And fuck, it feels so good to be able to peek at who you really are. It’s a drug to be able to know you like this, especially when he’d received nothing but glares from you in the past. He’s drunker on you than he’d expected, and he’s amused that now he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s enamored by you instead of simply expressing his interest in annoying you.

He wonders what’s changed, and when did the shift in your dynamic widen so much? He doesn’t know when he started to associate the word “fond” to you. Was it when your smile started to look genuine? Was it when you felt free to joke around him now? Was it when you held happily onto the stuffed toy he had won you?

He remembers every single moment spent with you, and he feels scared.

So he does what he should’ve let you do weeks ago, a step he’s delayed for too long now. Kim Seungmin would rather have you confess so he can stop thinking about you in this light anymore. He doesn’t like this. He’s starting to feel very afraid.

If he knows you even more than he does now, there would be no point of return. He wouldn’t be able to go back even if he tried.

“Anyway, right, the final step. Do it. It’s not that hard.” Seungmin insists, out of the blue, trying to get things over with. “We’ve already drawn too much attention to us, I’m unlucky enough to be seen with you every day, and now people think we’re together. That’s much worse!”

“Hey, stop hurting my feelings!” You knew it was a joke, like he always does around you, but it was still fun to fight with your former enemy. “Also, I’m not doing it. Are you insane?”

“We’ve trained for this! Just say you like him, if you really can’t then just ask him out or something.”

“I can’t do it!”

“What can’t you do?” The two of you jump at the new voice that joins the conversation – one you know too well.

“She can’t confe-“

“I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore!” You’re quick to cut Seungmin off before he can out you. Felix seems a bit taken back by this.

“Step one, dumbass!”

“I mean...” You take a deep breath. “Would you like to grab dinner at… that diner near here?... with us?”

Seungmin facepalms.

“Yeah, sure!” There he goes again, with that stupid pretty smile.

“Actually, I can’t come along. I’ve suddenly been hit with some sort of disease,” Seungmin dramatically informs you two, already walking away paired with very dramatic and very obviously fake coughing.

“Well, we could bring along your other friends instead!” You suggest nervously, throwing Seungmin death glares that make his smile dim for a quick second.

“I’ll tell our friends for you.” Seungmin chimes in before running out to harass your shared friends and tell them not to come. Almost immediately, you and Felix receive texts from his friends telling them they can’t come.

“I guess it’s just you and me.” Felix shrugs, offering you a grin.

Keeping up the cool facade, or at least trying to, you smile back, giving a thumbs up to Seungmin for embarrassing himself in front of all of your friends for you to get some time alone with Felix. As you walk away with the boy, sharing small chatter, it’s hard to miss the way Felix smiles at you, the way his eyes crinkle when you speak.

Maybe Felix really has gained genuine interest in you over the shared dance practices in Seungmin’s club room, over the small mentions of your name, over the positive feedback from your shared friends.

Seungmin thought this moment would feel victorious. He wouldn’t have to hangout with you anymore, and you wouldn’t have to die after the responsibility suddenly fell on his lap upon walking in on you in the men’s bathroom that one fateful day.

Seungmin doesn’t expect the bitter taste of regret that sits in his mouth instead – he was the one who’s been there all this time through everything.

And yet, Lee Felix gets the privilege to be with you. He gets the privilege to be called his first name.

“Wait a second.” You mumble to Felix, running quickly to where Seungmin is standing with his back turned to the pair of you. He feels your arms around him first, and before he can realize that you’re actually hugging him, you’ve already pulled away.

“Thanks Seungmin.” You smile, bowing slightly before running back to Felix who’s waiting for you.

He stands there, stunned. Seungmin. It’s funny how the casual mention of his first name has him crumbling all over again.

Seungmin wishes you had just called him Kim, like you always did. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so addicted with the way his name rolls out of your mouth so prettily. Something he might never hear from you ever again in a long time. There wasn’t a need for you to see each other again.

Kim Seungmin walks home alone for the first time in a long time.

No one stands in the back gate to greet him anymore.

He hates to admit how lonely it feels. He doesn’t realize how impactful the sound of your laughter was, or the sound of matching footsteps beside him. On the way home, he focuses on the music playing in his earbuds, focuses on the pavement, on anything but the thought of what you and Felix could be doing right now.

Kim Seungmin finds himself in contemplation over a matter that’s never been a concern in his life before—love. It’s a foreign concept to him. In truth, he doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before. Sure, he’s had a fair share of crushes, but they’ve never held him captive like this before. No, this is different. You’re different.

He’s never been eager for it either, not until lately. He is usually dull-eyed, disinterested, and does not have time for romance unless he wants it. He lets life pass as it does, without much contradictions. It’s much easier to live life this way, it’s much easier not to meddle in people’s business, and it’s much easier to leave the unknown unknown.

You are the first introduction of what wanting feels like to the boy. Because, as much as the boy enjoyed helping you out, there are times when he just wanted to hold you, or hold your hand while he was walking you home, or brush away that stupid stray strand of hair that always falls from your ponytail. Except he can’t. He knows he can’t. Because he’ll only receive the kind of stare that’s asking him why he’s acting so nice to you all of a sudden.

For the first time in a while, Seungmin is left with the bare truth of the way that he feels; something he hadn’t asked for, but needed to find out.

When he arrives home, he doesn’t text you – he doesn’t think it’s what you’d want, he doesn’t think it’s necessary anymore.

He’s also afraid that if he spends more time with you and your fond eyes and soft smiles, he’ll ruin everything even further. So, he does what he thinks is best for the both of you—revert back to mere glances and a time before he felt the need to enter your life so intimately like the way he did.

He will deprive himself of you, and wish you the best despite the bitterness that crosses his mind every now and then, that he was there first, that he’s also deserving of the love he wants.

Groaning, Seungmin rubs his eyes with the palm of his hands, and spends the next few hours staring aimlessly at his ceiling before drifting to sleep.

You find yourself missing Seungmin.

It’s funny how a few weeks spent with him has you clinging onto his presence, and his teasing, and his stupid jokes. Everything about him feels so much more warm, and you don’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s so suddenly ripped away from you.

You don’t realize you ask about him unconsciously, to Felix, to your shared friends. You just wonder how he’s doing most of the time. He barely bothers you during homeroom anymore—and you’re back to square one. You’re back to small greetings.

You’re not even granted the teases you used to hate so much.

He’s more reserved now, keeps to himself most of the time and only really speaks when the teacher asks him to. When you open your locker, you find no one closing it right away. Instead, Felix is there to accompany you.

You’re conflicted with your own feelings, but you know whatever is happening right now is good, because you’ve puked way less than you have over the past few months and the sitting weight on your chest doesn’t feel so constricting anymore.

You think it started to disappear a few days after that day in the arcade with Seungmin.

It hurts like a bitch to be ignored. Especially by him.

It seems that every time the boy sees you, he bolts towards the opposite direction. You’d thought it was just coincidences, that he hadn’t been deliberately avoiding you. Just reserved, just not in the mood.

“Seungmin!” You would wave at him when you see him in the hallway, just like you always do. But instead of the usual smile that you get, he would turn away. And you’re left to wonder why the hell he was avoiding you.

His cold shoulder is unappreciated by you, and you try to confront him best you can. You recruit the help of Hyunjin and Han, for the love of God. And even they are confused why their friend is suddenly ignoring you.

So, when they’re able to corner him where you want him, you waste no time to confront his sudden shift in behavior.

“You wanna tell me why you’re ignoring me?”

He has the audacity to avoid your gaze. “I’m not.”

“You are. All week, in fact.” You send him a sharp look, to which he responds with a frustrated breath.

“Well, what do you want from me? You got what you wanted. I didn’t think we’d need to keep talking.”

You stare at him, open-mouth and furrowed eyebrows. “I thought… I thought we were friends.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

You blink at the impact of his response.

Well, that was a cause for instant heartbreak.

Even a few days later, you can’t hide your dejection at being refused of a friendship with a boy you’d grown comfortable with. Had the times he helped you not meant anything to him? Were his laughs not genuine in the way you thought they were?

“Is there something that’s bothering you?” Yeji’s hand squeezes your shoulder when she finds you spaced out after your last class. “You look like you’re deep in thought.”

“Just conflicted.”

You would consider yourself smart, more than average even. You know there’s a reason why you miss Seungmin on a day to day basis, why you feel the need to mention him every chance that you get, why you feel a little excited to see him in the hallway only to feel disappointment when he doesn’t share the same enthusiasm, why your heart breaks at the stranger treatment.

That squeezing pain in your sternum, similar to a stab, whenever he brushes you off is not just because you miss his taunting. No, you know better than that. And you definitely know enough when you don’t feel that same excitement for Lee Felix.

And then there’s silence for a moment while you try to navigate through the maze of your own thoughts. It’s akin to the pause after a lightning bolt strikes, those very few seconds before the thunder. In those few seconds, you unexpectedly draft back to the past few weeks. Now in the absence of his presence, you find yourself yearning for him—any fragment you can get of him. His smile, his gaze, his fucking laugh. The kind of laugh that’s whole, and full of heart, and so free. The one you thought you’d never be subjected to.

These few heartbeats hold an anticipation, one, two, three… and then the thunder rolls in and you finally understand.

You like Kim Seungmin—a testament to your sudden unpredictable turn of the heart, the reason why that tight feeling in your chest had lessened until you barely remember you had that disease in the first place. It wasn’t because Felix was reciprocating your feelings, the sole reason lies in Seungmin’s hands, along with your heart.

It doesn’t matter the sting of his words that day he’d demoted you back to an acquaintance, neither when he would act icy to you now. You weren’t going to give up so easily.

You cancel plans with Felix that day, and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. It seems he’s realized it himself, known for quite a while. And while you feel guilty, he’s simply unfazed, even reassures you that it’s never in your choice who you end up falling for.

“You won’t be able to forgive yourself for all the things you don’t say until it’s too late.”

It’s a sentence enough to push you to find the one boy responsible for single-handingly ridding you of a disease that had burdened you for so long.

Sighing out, you clutch onto your backpack, hugging it to yourself as you kick at some pebbles on the ground. It’s been a while since you’ve left through the back exit of your school, and it feels a little nice to be waiting there again.

You hope Seungmin still takes the same path home.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin stays behind to look for Mr. Choi. There were two things that have been clouding his mind, and if he can’t gather the courage to talk to you, he might as well solve that stupid cube.

He doesn’t know why he’s so attached to a homeroom activity that probably meant nothing, but he thinks that if he solves one thing, he’d feel more at ease. He wouldn’t feel as messy as he did right now.

He just needed this one thing.

“Mr. Choi?”

“Seungmin? What can I do for you?” He’s confused to find the boy who’s always late to his class standing outside his office, but he still welcomes the kid.

“Can I ask you about that cube activity?”

Mr. Choi laughs, motioning for the boy to come in and telling him to sit. Then, he’s rummaging through his office and pulling out that same cube he’d placed on your tables weeks ago. “What do you wanna know about it?”

“How…? How were we supposed to open it without destroying it?”

“By simply asking me.”

“What?”

Your homeroom teacher laughs again, grabbing the cube from the boy and taking out a small pin. “There’s a little hole here, that if you push with a pin, you can open it.”

“Then why let us try to open it if only you could?”

“The point in the lesson was to ask permission. It was to take into consideration the hard work placed into making this cube and how only the owner understands how to open it with their permission.”

Seungmin’s mouth is agape as he tries to grasp whatever Mr. Choi was saying, but there was interest in his gaze. He was clearly trying to follow along.

“This cube is like a person.” Mr. Choi gives him a small smile. “You can only be let into someone’s heart if you simply ask to be let into the walls they’ve carefully built for themselves.”

There’s a moment of silence before Seungmin abruptly stands from his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Choi.” And then he’s off running from the office, phone in hand to dial in your number. He couldn’t take it anymore – he needed to speak to you.

Fuck whatever plan he had of ignoring you. That was stupid. He was being stupid, and his heart still aches at the way your face had dropped when he’d refused you of something as simple as a friendship when he’d seen you as someone entirely more than that.

Seungmin’s heart pounds in his chest as he dashes through the classroom, phone clutched tightly in his trembling hand. He needed to find you, tell you the things that’d been in his heart. The catalyst of Mr. Choi’s conversation provides him a clarity he didn’t know he needed, so he runs. He runs, and runs, and runs like he’s never before.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, but his mind is singularly focused on one destination, the only direction he needed to go, and that was wherever you were. He knew now, with a certainty that eclipsed any doubt, that he couldn't let fear or uncertainty hold him back any longer. He doesn’t want to keep the unknown unknown anymore.

He finds you where he used to, just about to grab your buzzing phone in your pocket. When you turn to the sound of heavy steps, you can only look in concern when you notice Seungmin’s disheveled appearance, sweat glistening on his forehead like it did when he was late to homeroom weeks ago.

“Seungmin?” You asked, voice riddled with worry. “What’s wrong? Why are you panti—”

“You’re Mr. Choi’s cube.” He blurts out amidst his heaving chest and uneven breathing. There is an intensity in his gaze you’d never seen before, and it looks like there are words itching at his throat that he’s struggling to say.

You tilt your head, eyebrows furrowed as you try to follow along to whatever the hell Seungmin was saying right now. “What?”

“You’re… you’re Mr. Choi’s cube. And for so long, I thought the solution was to shatter you. I thought the only way to get your attention was to destroy the walls you’ve built around you, but you made me realize differently.”

“What are you saying?”

For a moment he stays silent, staring at the ground beneath you before lifting his gaze back at you. It’s unmistakable the look on Seungmin’s face. Like he wanted to go slow, but he was too far into his feelings that he’s kicking everything up a notch by the second.

Knowing someone, and loving someone who has put so much effort into building the wall around them should be done with their permission. No one has the right to break it down, and shatter it, and leave them with the scraps of something they had worked so hard on building to protect themselves.

You used to always be so guarded, angry with your feelings, never letting anyone in.

Seungmin’s words are quiet, slipping out in vulnerability. “I’m asking to be let in. I’m asking… if you could let me in.”

You blink in surprise, and there’s a pause as you look at him with parted lips. And then you smile.

“I already let you in a long time ago.” There’s a contented flutter in his heart when you push yourself to hug him. He stands a lot inches taller than you, head buried in your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer.

In the way he’s in front of you, he looks like someone you’ve never met. Soft, blinking eyes that arrow straight down to your lips.

“I’m sorry it took me such a long time to figure it out.” He whispers, and it looks like he’s thinking, but you don’t know of what.

“You were such an ass for ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought, it’d go away if I did. That I wouldn’t feel so guilty if I did.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“Can I kiss you?” His voice softens when he asks you.

Against the wall of the school’s back exit is where Seungmin kisses you for the first time, like he’d been waiting for this for a stretch of time. Your heart tightens at the action, and he lets his huge hands linger just around your waist, fingers toying with the ends of your top. It makes you tremble. He kisses you so feverishly, so genuinely.

You’d like to stay here forever, and if not forever, then a few moments more with his arms around you and your head buried deep in his chest.

He’d developed a severe addiction to your sentiments, and Seungmin could write you paragraphs about all the ways he’s fallen in love with you, but right now, he gives himself the ease of simply knowing you—of being let in the walls you’d trapped your barely beating heart in not so long ago. And he is going to parade this beautiful privilege for how much there is still to be learned about you, and how proud he feels that you’ve given him the permission to know you, and know you, and know you, until there is nothing left to learn. Until you’re all that he knows.

519 notes · View notes

reareaotaku · 2 months

Text

Yandere! Ford Pines Headcanons

📖 He met you when he was trapped in the inter-dimensional portal. He was annoyed at first that he was stuck, but when he met you, he was taken a back.

📖 You were a strange thing and he had never met anything like you. You weren't really human- But you weren't a monster either? It was hard to explain and Ford was intrigued by you.

📖 He wanted to study you. Watch you. Write about you. He didn't treat you like a being with thoughts and feelings, but as a science project/object for his inspection.

📖 He doesn't even realize what he's doing. It doesn't even occur to him that he's being weird and strange.

📖 That is until you confront him. You soon pick up on the fact that you're being watched and you set a trap for the creature.

💀 "Can I help you?" You spoke in a language that he didn't understand- At least not completely. The only thing he really knew was that you were talking to him.

📖💀 He is intrigued, but he can't get any words out. He tries talking, but he's still unaware of what you had said

💀 You decide not to kill him and just go about your day and he takes that as a green light to keep studying you. Infact, he's more interested, because now he knows you can speak, even though it's in a language he can't understand

📖 He slowly picks up pieces of your language and tries to start conversations with you. You decide to humor him, because you too are kind of interested in Ford.

📖 Ford is quite interesting. He's glad he met you in this fuck up world. You make it more bareable

📖 He becomes protective over you. It happens when you get hurt one time. He sees you as a human, because he's a human, so he doesn't realize how strong you are/ or how easy it is for you to heal. He just wants you to be safe, because he doesn't want to lose you

📖 Death follows Ford, so he's scared to lose you. He wants you to be around forever.

📖 Finds out how to trap you and he does. It angers you beyond repair, but Ford doesn't care. He knows you can love him with time. Yes, time is all he needs.

#ford pines x reader #ford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #disney x reader #ford x reader #monster reader

488 notes · View notes

astroboots · 1 year

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #15 - FINALE

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: All things end.

Word count: 3,400

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous]

Traveling through Strange’s inter-dimensional portal is a different experience from going through one of Miguel’s. It’s less of a laser light show and more of a psychedelic drug trip.

Shapes and patterns warps in front of you, and the strength of gravity seems to press in against you from all sides as you fall upwards through an endless space.

You lose track of time. You don’t know how long you’ve been in here. It could be hours or seconds, but you can't tell the difference. Then it stops.

There is a gentle light ahead of you, and as you pass through it, the soft warmth of it trickles away. Then you find yourself standing in a familiar vast and empty space once again.

Staring into the far distance, the only thing you see is the blank whiteness ahead of you, just as jarring and endless as last time.

You clutch onto the pink-gemmed amulet hanging from your neck, gifted to you by Strange. A magical artifact that’s meant to help you keep your physical form in this space so you don’t fade away like you did last time.

Everything is static here, stale. There’s no air flow, no sense of temperature. The environment is neither hot nor cold against your skin, but somehow you feel an ever-present chill seeping into your bones.

Taking a deep breath, you start to walk forward.

You're shivering with each step you take. There's no sound under your step. No shadows cast under the soles of your feet.

"Boss lady,” Lyla pipes up, her hologram avatar hovering over your shoulders. “I really don't like this. Let's go back home, Beyoncé is holding a concert in Amsterdam! I got us front row seat tickets."

It's a valiant attempt, Miguel really did a great job coding her, but you’re not going back without him. Ignoring Lyla, you continue on your path.

There’s no sign of Miguel anywhere. It's all infinite whiteness as far as the eye can see, with no signs of an end.

The last two times you were here, you didn’t have a chance to gain an understanding of how big this space is. For all you know it could be as vast and endless as the universe itself. What if you’re stuck wandering in this place for an eternity and still never find Miguel?

You walk on, eyes roaming the space, and a dull ache starts to form behind them from staring at the glaring brightness.

There! Off to your left, you finally spot… something.

Your heart leaps in your chest as you clock a disruption in the blank whiteness. A tiny disruption. Or maybe it’s just far away? The emptiness of this place is hell on your depth perception. You veer in that direction, squinting as you approach, until you’re finally close enough to make out what it is.

In the middle of the vast nothingness, there is a tiny ball of crumpled up yellowish paper floating at knee height.

Huh?

Isn't this a complete void where nothing exists or can exist? Why is there trash here?

You squat down hunching over your knees until the little paper ball is eye level and inspect it closer.

The color and thickness of the paper is familiar. It looks like a post-it note that’s been folded in half, tiny, uneven triangles sticking out at each of the four corners.

How weird.

Crumpled as it is, you can see now that the crooked folds and creases aren't all random. Looking closely, there seems to have been a failed attempt of trying to fold them in a sequence but lacking the proper hand to eye dexterity to do it properly.

Wait, is this…? It must be.

You recognize it now. It’s one of your unfortunate attempts at an origami frog from when you were killing time with Miguel at your work. But what is it doing here of all places?

Tentatively reaching out, you poke at the piece of paper. To your surprise there’s resistance.

That's... odd.

There's nothing else here. Nothing holding it.

Just the failed paper frog suspended in thin air.

You try again, grabbing a corner of the paper this time, but the results are the same. It stubbornly refuses to move. When you tug, it jerks back, away from you.

Squinting your eyes, you lean closer and carefully observe the space in front of you.

Now when you’re paying close attention, you can just about make out a vague, almost invisible outline.

It’s barely there, and you can only tell because the blank whiteness in front of you seems to warp slightly with the smallest tremor of a movement.

Whatever this is, it really doesn’t want you to take your piece of trash back from it.

You frown in annoyance. This doesn't make sense. Why would your poor deformed paper frog even be here? The only people who even had anything to do with the stupid thing are you and–

"Miguel?"

The movement stills at your voice.

When you don't look away, it seems spooked by your gaze, shirking at the attention. The thing shifts in its shape, shrinking down like it's trying to make itself smaller.

You try to move closer, and the obscure translucent form moves away from you, gliding seamlessly into the empty space.

Without a shape it takes you a few moments before you register its movement and what it's trying to do. It's moving fast, as if it's trying to flee from you.

Because it is. Shit!

You run after it, guided by the vague hazy contour against the nothingness that surrounds you. Even without legs, this shapeless thing is moving fast.

"Stop!" you shout, "Stop, stop, please stop! It's me!"

You leap forward, grabbing at the empty outline in front of you, and to your surprise find purchase on the nothingness under your grip.

"Miguel, stop running!" you shout.

It does. He does.

There is something there now, a semi-invisible mass, slightly more opaque than it was a second ago.

You open your mouth to speak, but you don't know what to say. Don't even know for certain that this is Miguel or not.

But you hope it is. Have to believe it is. You’re too desperate to overthink it, and you spout the first thing that comes into your head.

"Come back, Miguel. Come back, and I'll take you back to that cheap Chinese diner you liked so much. We can get all the food you want, all of it deep fried! I'll even share the egg tarts this time."

You think you see something shift before you. It could just be your imagination, but the tiniest speck of color seems to emerge from within the translucent mass.

Somehow, whatever you’re doing must be working, and you quickly try to think of what else you can say that will tempt him to come back.

Food. Maybe more about food will work? It worked for you, after all.

"The Reese buttercups in our other apartment are all expired, but I think they'd still be okay to eat, and– and– And I'll make you cookies if you come back! Blue spiderman ones that match your suit."

The speck of color pops, fading into thin air, your fingers sinking further into the nothingness of his form, and a spike of panic stabs through your chest.

Why isn’t it working!? Was it not the food that made him react after all? You don’t know what else to try.

That first time you were here, Miguel was able to bring you back to yourself with the intimate details he knew from the other lifetime you two had shared. Maybe you can do the same.

"Your name is Miguel O'hara," you start, "and- and-" And then you have to stop, not sure of what else to say. "And your eyes are red... for some reason. And you have fangs! Fangs that can deliver some kind of fucking paralysis venom, which is completely ridiculous by the way!"

Nothing happens. There’s no change save for that the form underneath you squirms and tries to get away from your grip.

"And... and..."

Shit. This is getting you nowhere.

Unlike Miguel, you haven't had the front seat experience of living a lifetime together with him. There's only so much you know about him. Because that man is more secretive than a CIA agent.

You bite down on your lip in frustration.

"Goddamnit, Miguel! I barely know anything about you because you never tell me shit!"

The shape underneath you stops wiggling underneath you.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you gather yourself, then you reopen them again, staring up at the upper part of the half-invisible shape like he's standing in front of you.

There's no point in trying to beat Miguel at a game of knowledge. You will never win. You never got to learn or memorize every personal and intimate detail about the man and his life. But there's one thing that you know beyond any doubt.

"I miss you," you tell him.

Strokes of soft colors streaks through the translucent mass at your words. A gentle blossoming spreads and you can see the opaque material reform inch by inch, until it vaguely resembles the silhouette of a body.

"I can’t even eat without you around, which has never happened to me before. I’ve been able to eat through food poisoning. But now the cupcakes from Gladis remind me of you and how you're not here, and they taste like cardboard."

He feels firmer somehow, more solid, and there’s even the faintest trace of warmth under your fingertips. Hope flutters in your chest at the change, and you tighten your grip on him.

“I miss you. More than I ever thought it could be possible to miss someone."

You can faintly make out limbs and shoulders, and the outline of a head.

"I miss falling asleep next to you. It's too quiet without your snoring, and the bed is too big without you there."

The body grows taller, and you can see the familiar tan of his skin now, the line of his jaw and the sharp angle of his nose re-materializing before your eyes.

"I miss watching you eat three dozen tacos in one sitting, scaring the tables around us. I miss having you with me and getting to talk to you, or even just sitting next to you doing nothing.”

You lean up towards him, raised on the tip of your toes, until you're up against him. “I just want you to be here with me. Please come back," you whisper into him.

Then he's there. Right in front of you, large and firm and warm as he towers above you, forehead pressed against yours, in your arms.

He’s here. Miguel is here.

His hair is a soft tousled mess. Eyes warm and hazy as he slowly blinks them open like he's just woken up from a hibernation while he gazes down on your face in an intimate silence.

It doesn’t last for very long. His gaze sharpens, blinking in rapid succession as confusion bleeds into his face. You can see the exact moment that consciousness and awareness fully return to him. Because he steps back from you, red eyes burning with an angry determination.

"What are you doing here?" he snarls at you.

Because of course he does. Of course anger is his first reaction at seeing you here.

"You can't be here," he says.

You don't even get a word in before Miguel reaches for your wrist.

"Lyla!" he barks out, and there’s a ping on your arm in response.

"Lyla, stand down," you command, smacking your palm over the face of the dial before the hologram can pop up. You already know that the next words out of his mouth will be a command to whisk you away again if you let him speak.

His lips twist into a frustrated snarl. Eyes glowing with that red fury that you recognize by now as the beginnings of an anger tantrum.

“Why don't you get it? I need to do this," he seethes, gesturing at the void, "I have to disappear. For your sake! It's my fault. I'm the reason you keep dying. I’m killing you!”

“That’s not true! You saved me! You caught me when I fell off the Chrysler building—twice!—and–”

“That doesn’t matter!” he snarls, rounding on you, “Don’t you understand!? You’re still going to die! If I'm with you, you die.”

There’s a moment of resounding silence, and you watch as the anger bleeds away from Miguel’s face, leaving something else in its place.

Something like grief.

“I can’t– I can’t do that again,” he says quietly, and he looks so sad that it damn near breaks your heart.

“Miguel…”

You don’t know what to say in the face of such raw and obvious grief. Until… suddenly, you do.

“Whether you're here or not, I could still die, Miguel."

Your words seem to hit him like a blow, and he flinches back, his eyes going round and liquid, open mouth quivering for a moment before it pulls right into a hard downturned line.

"Even if you were gone, there still wouldn’t be any guarantees," you say.

You brush your hand alongside his, trying to hold his hand in yours but he draws it away.

"You could save me by erasing yourself from existence and tomorrow a bus driver that isn't paying attention might hit me and I'd die anyhow," you continue, and he flinches visibly. "You can't control these things, and I would rather be with you and take the chance and be happy until it happens."

His hand balls up in agitation at his side. "I– I just don't want you to die again," he says, helplessness bleeding through every syllable of his words.

Your heart aches at his obvious pain. All you want, all you've ever wanted is to make that pain a little bit smaller. You step forward closing the distance between you, and he doesn't back away or move from you this time.

“Everybody dies. Regardless of what happens here I will too someday. But you’ve given me extra time. You did that. You saved me, again and again. And I’m so happy that you did. That I got to have that time with you. To share donuts with you in bed, or fold post-its frogs in the office."

His eyes close tightly, and he gives a slight shake of his head, grief and denial warring in his features. “None of that matters if you don’t survive,” he says quietly.

“You say it doesn’t matter, but it does, Miguel. Those moments matter to me. And even if we die here in this stupid video game loading screen, or if we make it out of here, but something else gets me, it will still matter to me.”

There's no telling if your grand speech is actually getting through to him because he's still not looking at you or meeting your eyes. You grab at his shoulder for his attention. It's all you can do to not shake him and rattle him until he accepts what you are trying to tell him.

"I want to be with you, and even if you can’t save me in the end, that's okay. I just want to be with you for as long as I can. However long or short of a time that is, I won’t have any regrets as long as I get to spend it with you. I told you, didn’t I? Every me in every universe would say the same, given a choice."

He doesn’t respond this time and part of you feels like you’re talking to a besieged wall. Reaching up, you cup his cheeks in your hands and pull his face down to meet your eyes.

“How many other universes are out there where those versions of us never get to know each other at all? …Thousands? …Millions? We’re the lucky ones, Miguel. We got to meet, and we have a chance against all odds. So what if it means we have to jump through a few hoops and universes to be together?”

His eyes open fully at your words, and lock on your face. You think you can see the cracks in his defenses. His hands unfurl and twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting himself to reach for you.

"I love you,” you tell him, and his lips part with a slight tremble.

You’re running out of things to say that can convince him now. The only thing that’s left is for Miguel to make the choice.

Your hand slides down from his face, and he looks distraught at the loss of contact as you take one small step back and away from him.

"Let's try to be happy this time," you tell him.

Reaching out your hand towards him, you try your best to smile through your nervousness, hoping that he is going to say yes to you this time despite his trademark stubbornness that you’ve come to love and hate sometimes.

Miguel looks at your hand, hesitation carved into every shade of red in those eyes. His hand flexes by his side, but doesn’t move.

He’s still unsure, and hope falls flat in your chest at the thought that he might very well make the choice to stay and destroy himself despite how much you don’t want him to.

But then he nods, and your heart begins to sing.

Tentative as it may be, his arm still reaches out towards you, fingers seeking out yours and he takes your hand.

"Yeah," he answers quietly. “Let’s be happy.”

Your smile grows wider, eyes watery as your vision blur around the edges when you look up at him. Happiness blossoming in your chest until it feels so full you think your ribs might burst from it.

You squeeze down on his larger hands in yours, to reassure yourself that he is really here, with you. And he is.

"Lyla," you say, and your watch pings at your command, before Lyla’s face lights up the space above.

"Good to have you back with us, boss," she says with a salute in Miguel’s direction. “Where to now?”

“Lyla,” he acknowledges with a faint smile and a nod, but he doesn’t look away from your face. "Do the thing. Take us home. Home-home."

Warm amber light rises up to surround you both, and Miguel pulls you into his chest. A kaleidoscope of colors explodes before your eyes, swirling around the two of you as he holds you in his arms.

You can't stop smiling at him, grinning like an idiot, as you tilt up to press your forehead to his.

Reality reforms around you, specks of navy-blue filling the large and vast sky. You're standing on the rooftop of a tall building surrounded by the skyline of brightly lit skyscrapers, a labyrinth of levitating bridges and streets laid out beneath. Floating vehicles buzz and soar through the sky like flamboyant dragonflies. Below your feet there is an ocean of dotted neon lights and colorful hologram billboards filling every inch and corner of the city below.

This must be Miguel's home dimension. What did he call it? Earth-3000-something? Nueva York, he said, and it certainly looks new—bright and fantastical, like nothing you’ve ever known before—but you only have eyes for the man in front of you.

Miguel pulls back slightly, squeezing down on your hand.

"So what do we do now? As long as I exist, the universe will still be out to get you," he says.

Despite the bleakness of the picture he’s painting, his eyes are soft and there’s something that sounds like hope in his tone.

You smile at him, eyes narrowing against the bright neon lights of the tall towering buildings around you.

"We live,” you answer, “Together. As long as we can. I hear you're some kind of genius scientist or something. I'm sure we'll think of something fun to do in the infinite multiverse."

“What do you want to do first?” he asks.

“Sleep.”

He's smiling at you, the corners of his fangs peeking out against his lower lip, eyes squinting in a way that makes him look almost boyish.

The sight of it makes your cheeks warm pleasantly and affection blossoms endlessly in your chest for him.

This isn’t the end, but if it were, it feels like it's a good one this time. Miguel walks out towards the ledge of the building, turning back to reach out his hand to you.

"Let’s go, Cielito."

[Nueva York, Earth 928-C]

The end.

Credit and Dedication: One final time, this is dedicated to @thirstworldproblemss who is my muse, my partner-in-writing-&-brainstorming, who makes writing so much more fun everyday.

And then of course. To everyone of you. We are finally here. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I want to thank everyone who has followed along in this story this entire time. Writing Every You Every Me has been one of the most joyous writing experiences I've had. That is largely because of you guys! Thank you for every heartfelt feedback you guys have left here, thank you for coming into my asks, thank you for clicking that little heart on the bottom letting me know you've read it and for the lurkers who has followed along all the while, thank you for taking the time to read this story of mine! Having this audience has made me grow so much as a writer. Having your company while I wrote this has brought me so much joy. Reading everyone's reactions and theories has been a privilege that not a lot of writers get in the process of writing a multi-chaptered story. Thank you so so much.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #marvel mcu #marvel #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderverse fanfiction

858 notes · View notes

del-stars · 3 months

Text

okay lay one-dimensional walburga to rest. give me overbearing walburga who chokes her sons with her love. walburga who is so determined to make them perfect that she doesn't care if she suffocates them. walburga who controls their clothes, their food, walburga who brushes their hair every morning and inspects their skin. walburga who loves dressing up her pretty, perfect boys like they're dolls. who forces her children to be exactly what she wants them to be and hides it all under it's because i love you, baby and i only want the best for you, my love and are you sure you want to wear that? and don't you want to look prettier, my darling?

#thinking about famous!au walburga being an almond mom #ordering sirius' clothes a size too small for 'motivation'#yeah.#i love when her manipulation isnt just blind violence #like give me a walburga that sirius struggles to let go of #he was not 11 already hating his mom #marauders #sirius black #regulus black #walburga black #black brothers #mwpp #the noble and most ancient house of black

335 notes · View notes

snaileer · 1 year

Text

Dare to Live (Part 2/2)

DPxDC Part 1

It all started with a dare really. You’d think, after all these years, after having done at least a /bit/ of growing up, Danny would be able to refuse a dare from his best friend.

But here he was, about to drop through a mystic portal with full intentions to make Tucker eat his words.

And Sam too, for agreeing!

“Come on Danny, times a ticking, sands a wasting.” Tucker said in a sing song voice, floating behind the portal lazily.

“Yeah, Danny, we didn’t spend two days finding the perfect dimension just for you to chicken out,” Sam said, laying on her back in the air and pretending to inspect her nails.

Danny felt his eye twitch.

“I told you, Sam, he couldn’t be mysterious and mystical if he tried, even under pain of a double. Dog. Dare.” Tucker emphasized.

Danny whipped his head around, staring his best friend in the eyes, “You really think so Tucker? A double dog dare?”

Tucker smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed and a smug look, “I know so.”

“Then prepare to eat Lunch Lady’s hairnet, Tuck, you’re on!” Danny grinned and shot backwards through the portal.

He relished the way Tuckers face went green as he passed through. Well, greener.

Danny turned invisible the moment he felt the resistance of a dimensional barrier go past him, and boy was that the right decision, the whole place was in chaos.

Danny floated invisibly in the sky with a puzzled look on his face. Was that guy… flying? What in the-?

A laser beam passed through him, making Danny look down to see he was intangible, but why? Could he be tangible again? He focused, and yep, there he was, tangible and visible- visible?! Danny lost focus and disappeared again.

Hmm, okay so looks like his default state here is invisible and intangible but like even more so than back home, interesting.

Danny looked back at where the laser came from, surprised to see an entire ship behind him. And not like a pirate ship, oh no, not even a cruise liner, a big, bony looking alien ship.

Danny wanted to squeal! Aliens! This realm had aliens!

Calm down Danny, remember the dare, mysterious, mystical, think, what gives off big mystical vibes?

Ok, first off, royalty. Danny summoned his crown, ring, sword, and cape, ok good but what else?

Eldritch maybe?

Okay he’s already got fangs, and blue skin, he could probably let his hair be a little more free floaty, and he’s already a full grown adult with shoulders like his dad, that should be enough right?

Another laser shot through him.

Rude!

He looked back, surprised to see a group of people aiming weapons at the big alien ship. He looked closer.

Was the… was the alien ship trying to… to crush this city?

Were these…. bad aliens?

Noooooo, that meant he had to stop them! But he likes aliens!

Danny reluctantly reared up to punch the big ship, pausing when he saw how the other flying people were struggling against it.

Oh Idea?

Super-strength? Now there was mysterious and mystical.

He smirked, oh he had the perfect entrance!

Thank youuu Kingly strength.

Danny positioned himself in front above the ship then created a double actually touching the ship.

He let himself appear, keeping his double invisible as he held out a hand and then swiped it down, using the double to push the ship into the ground.

Luckily, as Danny had just noticed, the ship seemed to be floating just outside the main city area and most everything below it was already destroyed.

Err, well, it certainly was now.

He fought the urge to wince. Mystical powerful beings in the sky don’t wince, Danny.

Still, he looked around at all the destruction. He hadn’t been back in a human realm since his own life, and the destruction had been common place then too, in his own hometown at least.

This was… worse, much worse. He really had to hold back a grimace as he saw a couple ghosts start forming on the edges, he could feel that they were feeding off of his own ambient ectoplasm.

Yikes okay, maybe giving a source of brand new ectoplasm at the sight of a disaster was not the best idea but… he could fix this!

Danny held out his arms, calling the newly formed ghosts to him, letting them use him as a portal to the Zone.

And then he very quickly locked up his aura from releasing more. No one saw that right?

He stood there floating for a minute before he saw the blue and red flying man begin to approach him.

He smirked again, aw yeah time to see if it worked!

Danny lowered himself marginally to meet the man in the middle.

“I am Superman,” Weird name but okay, “Protector of Earth. Thank you for helping us. But…” Superman looked hesitant, “Who are you?”

Aw crap, okay think Danny, big dramatic name, do NOT blurt out your real one. Double dog dare, come on think of something, anything, you have been staring for way too long-

“I am High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms of the Eighth Dimension; The Great One, Feller of the Tyrant Pariah Dark, Tamer of Vortex, Conquerer of My Future Now Past, Keeper of Death and Life, Wielder of the Ring of Rage, Bearer of the Crown of Fire and The One True Balance.” Danny blinked slowly, hoping that was ‘mystical’ enough for Sam because ancients he was really running out of coronation titles there.

“You are well met Superman, Protector of… Earth.”

Hang on. Earth? He was on Earth? Not his Earth but really this was Earth? With Aliens?

He wanted this to be his Earth, dang it why did he have to get the boring ghost invested one?!!

The man looked like he wanted to back up by about thirty steps so.. it worked?

“And.. Your Majesty is here because…?”

Danny stopped his gentle float.

Uhhh. Uhh. Okay good reason, think of a good reason to be here. Visiting? No that’s dumb, it’s not a zoo. Uhh, curious, no that’s not mysterious enough! Okay mysterious, mysterious, think mysterious. OooOooooOo, MysTeRIouSssss.

Who does he know that’d be mysterious enough to pull this off?

…

Clockwork!

Okay, what would Clockwork say? Uhhhh

“You will find out all in due time, Superman of Earth,” Was that good? No that sounded threatening, “But for now, I am here simply to observe.” That was better right? Okay leave before he asks more questions.

Danny floated down to where the other colorfully dressed people stood in a semi-circle.

Well colorful and one in all black.

“Superman, who is this?” The one in all black said with a glare as he stepped forward.

Danny opened his mouth to recite the titles again, points for mystical-ness, when he was cut off.

“Batman, this is King Phantom of the Eighth dimension, he’s… visiting?”

‘Batman’ raised an eyebrow under his cowl, “Eighth dimension, is that at all related to your troubles with a certain fifth dimensional imp?”

Now Danny felt justified in being at least a little offended, “Watch your tongue, Man of Bats,” that was a sufficiently mystical naming right?, “Accuse me of being a fifth dimensional pest again and we shall see how long you last in no dimensions at all,” Danny paused, “Mortal.”

Ha, in your face Tucker, he was so good at this!

Tag list:

@blep-23 @theblackcatscratchpost @fylylowo @coruscateselene @breesperez139 @kataaitheskittle

1K notes · View notes

ckret2 · 6 months

Text

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!"

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?"

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea."

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods.

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek.

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek.

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake.

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest.

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

#(there's another 2 pics I might later add at the top; but I don't wanna spoil it when the chapter's new. give folks a day to read or so lol)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

347 notes · View notes

theinternetisaweboflies · 10 months

Text

The Boy and the Heron Merchandise (Source: Sora News 24)

More information about the Kiriko figure below the cut.

What makes this set so special is the fact that the first prototype was created by hand by Yoshie Hayashi, an animator who started working at Studio Ghibli in 2009 and has been involved in all its feature-length anime films since 2010’s Arrietty.

While working on The Boy and the Heron as a video inspection assistant, Hayashi wondered what some of the characters would look like if she made them three-dimensional. Having majored in plastic arts during her student days, Hayashi experimented by crafting the character of Kiriko into a doll, which gave birth to this series.

The final product retains the warmth of a handmade design, despite the character’s frown.

#Yoshie Hayashi #Hayashi Yoshie #The Boy and the Heron #Hayao Miyazaki #Ghibli #Ghibli merch #Studio Ghibli #The Boy and the Heron merch #warawara #i want literally all of them #but especially a little kiriko #for protection

257 notes · View notes

nelpretechc · 1 month

Text

CMM Inspection Services

Nel Pretech Corporation offers precision CMM Inspection Services, ensuring the highest accuracy in measurement for quality control. Our expert team uses advanced CMM technology to meet your specific inspection needs, providing reliable data for product validation and manufacturing processes. Trust us to deliver precise results with unparalleled attention to detail.

#cmm inspection services #industrial ct scan #dimensional inspection #metrology services

0 notes

idontknowreallywhy · 1 month

Text

Resurface 31 - Review

Happy Birthday Virgil 💚 I didn’t get you a present but I finally got you and your brother back on the path to Best Brodom. Just, um, bear in mind it’s just the start of the journey and maybe don’t read the last paragraph until tomorrow?

I hope this is ok, I have agonised because this chapter contains Virg headcanon that is dear to me and I just hope I did it (and his inner voice) justice. It’s probably too long but… well… here it is. Thanks to @sofasurf and @astranite for the encouragement / chivvying / poking with stick to just get this done and out there.

Story so far

They had to start somewhere… literally at the top is as good a place as any, right?

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“You’ve dyed it! You’ve dyed your hair!”

Scott blushed and his hand returned to his forehead, as if to hide the evidence.

“Uh, yeah… thought I might give it a go…” he cleared his throat awkwardly “I couldn’t find exactly the right colour it was kind of hard to tell on the website… who knew there were so many types of brown, huh?” He paused and grabbed a dishcloth to rub irritably at the gel residue on his fingers before glancing over at his brother. “I mean, obviously YOU would.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. Scott wasn’t kidding, the former greys were a much redder shade of brown than the rest and on close inspection looked a little… odd… but he wasn’t about to make his brother even more self-conscious by pointing it out. He picked up his coffee with both hands and took a long sip to buy himself some time to work out what to say.

“You don’t approve?” The chuckle was more than a little forced.

“You don’t need my approval, Scott. I’m just… surprised, I guess? You’d always swore you’d never dye it. Didn’t you say you’d earned every last one of them and had nothing to be ashamed of?”

His brother snatched up his own coffee and feigned a sudden interest in the view from the window.

“Is no big deal… you were bothered by it so I just sorted it out.”

“I was bothered by it?”

“Uh, yeah. When… the other day when you were really… err…” Scott cleared his throat “… upset, you said so and I figured maybe you were worried I was getting old or… or maybe I was looking too much like… uh, well…”

“I complained… about your hair?” Virgil was baffled. The silver streaks were the subject of much banter in the Tracy household but for a long while had been a part of who Scott was. While in theory Virgil might have said almost anything in his state of confusion, he had still been himself even while his perception of the world around him had been faulty. He just couldn’t imagine being negative about a feature he’d always felt rather affectionately for.

“Well, not in so many words but…”

“Can you remember my exact words?” Virgil knew full well that if Scott had been worrying about this enough to break his avowed hair dye abstention he’d have gone over what had been said again and again and again. And then probably again just for good measure. Sure enough, the response was immediate:

“You said you didn’t want me to be grey. And then you literally begged me not to go grey. So I decided not to. It’s not a big deal.”

Virgil closed his eyes.

Ah.

Sometimes it would be handy to see the world in the simpler, more solid way other people did, as if everything was a hollow photograph existing in straightforward three-dimensional space. He’d never choose to live life without the full range of his sensory experiences and feelings overlaid in glorious technicolour… but he learned very quickly other people, even artists, did not see the same and thus he tended to avoid any accidental references to it.

Obviously he was less careful when he was out of his mind.

He suppressed the sigh and took a measured breath.

Virgil opened his eyes to see his brother had already drained his coffee and was almost vibrating with the effort of maintaining his fake casual stance leaning on the kitchen island. He’d have expected pacing by now except that this was his big brother’s way of showing that not only did he want to hear his brother out, he wanted to reassure Virgil he was, definitely, listening.

He grabbed Scott’s hand which was discharging some of the discomfort via quiet but incessant tapping on the work-surface and interlaced their fingers. The relentless movement continued more softly and for a moment Virgil allowed himself time to notice the vibrations travelling through his knuckles and up his arm and for his mind to quietly acknowledge the subtle shift in rhythm from need-to-explode to need-to-connect. He mirrored it back and Scott squeezed his fingers in response.

“Let’s walk for a bit?”

Virgil knew it was the right call even before the relief flooded Scott’s face and he made a beeline for the door.

They made their way down on to the deck and then up the stone staircase via the roundhouse and took the path towards the caldera.

“I didn’t mean your hair, Scooter.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I reckon I can explain but you’ll need to give me a minute and try not to be too… literal about it?”

“I can do that.”

“Right.” The path narrowed and demanded single file. Virgil gestured for Scott to lead the way and smiled wryly to himself as the steep incline accentuated the slight height difference between them to the extent that his current view of his brother was very much the waist region. Nevertheless, he could see from the slightly uneven movement of his hips that the leggier man was moderating his stride so as not to get too far ahead to hear.

Ha, he was so familiar with his brother’s body language he could even read his…

“So…?”

Oops.

“Sorry, got lost in my own head there.”

“It’s not a problem.” Scott’s hurried response betrayed his even-worse-than-usual anxiety for a brother and Virgil really needed to fix that asap. But first he needed to sort out the immediate confusion.

“Ok… you know I see a lot more things in colour than most people do?”

“Two makes forest green noise and One makes gold and light blue.” Scott immediately confirmed and Virgil experienced a little rush of warmth at the thought his big brother had felt the detail important enough to commit to memory.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s the kind of thing. Well it isn’t just sound it’s… everything? Smell, taste, heat… and err… kind of… mood? Not exactly mood… um... The way people are? Their personalities, almost?” Virgil faltered a little, desperately searching for better words to form a neat box around the web of overlapping sensations in his head, but it felt much like the time he’d tried to explain to Alan why magenta made his teeth fizz. Some things just… were. Maybe if he tried to tie it to something easier to pin down:

“Ok, maybe the best way I can explain is - you know it was me that picked the colours of the birds? Well, One, Two and Four anyway…”

“I didn’t!” Scott was evidently curious “I never thought to wonder who did.”

“Well, it was me. Mostly. Well a bit. Brains was going to have them all in silver and I suggested that some form of colour coding might be a plan, for easier recognition compared with other organisations’ ships and machinery and bright colours are a more friendly sight for scared rescuees, you know?” Virgil paused to use his breath to navigate a particularly steep part of the track. Scott, possibly misinterpreting the pause for uncertainty sent encouragement over his shoulder: “Makes sense to me. Our public face needs to be unthreatening.”

“Yeah, exactly and in that time just after the… um, well it needed to be clear they weren’t military ships…” there was a grunt of agreement from in front. “It took a while to decide which would be which colour. For Three Dad picked red because in little Allie’s mind rockets were always red and it was his way of reaching out to the little guy I guess. But it’s not right really, Alan is light blues and bright purple. And of course One should have been primarily Cerulean to contrast with the Maya Blue but he wanted silver to represent speed and so… we had to compromise on her design but I did win with Four because he thought she should be orange, like a life buoy, you know? But I said no - Gordon’s bird couldn’t possibly be anything other than sunshine yellow. John picked his own so I didn’t get involved there but…”

“Virg, you’re losing me a little. Alan is… blue and purple?”

“Light blue. Bright purple. When he’s cheerful, yes. He gets steely blue when he’s angry same as you.”

“So we all have a colour?”

“Yeah. Well, a palette of them. Kind of. It’s… I’m sorry it’s the best way I have of describing the presence you have. Words can be a bit limiting sometimes.”

“Maybe you should try painting it?” Scott‘s voice lifted a little and he was looking at him intently. “I’d like to see us the way you do.”

They had finally reached the top of the volcano and stood together admiring the view to the east. A vigorous breeze, sharpened by the bright metallic tang of salt, dried the moisture from Virgil’s lips and he pressed them together with a doubtful hum.

“I’ve tried before and it didn’t really…” the glimmer of eagerness dulled and Virgil hurriedly sought to breathe life back into it “but I guess I could give it another go?”

His big brother smiled and lit up again for a moment before the cloud crossed back over his face and his eyes dropped from Virgil’s.

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

“Oh. And that’s what is bothering you?”

“No! No, I’m not saying the baldric needs to change. You can have salmon pink or zebra stripes if you like - that’s what I meant about not being too literal about this. I just… I wish you wouldn’t feel like you had to act like someone else. Just… be you, you know?”

A slight squeeze of the hand said message received but Virgil knew it might take a while to process. An unspoken agreement saw them taking the shallower broader path down towards the shore.

“Please don’t say that thing about the baldrics to Gordon, you know he’ll come up with something hideous.”

“He really would. It’d be burnt orange with pink polka dots within minutes.”

“I can just see it now.” Scott facepalmed melodramatically then ran his fingers into his hairline.

“So you weren’t worrying about the hair?”

“No, Scott. I don’t have any problem with your hair. I’m sorry I confused you. I just want you to be happy and be yourself. That’s literally all I would have meant by it.”

“I’m trying, Virgil, I really am.”

“I know. I’m proud of you.”

He really had been trying. Scott’s attempts to reconcile his past and present and figure out who he was again had actually been a source of real joy to Virgil. It had been so long coming.

Years of encouraging, nagging… in all honesty borderline-harassing his big brother to break out of his self-imposed exile from life, to take the opportunities to enjoy himself when they came… and finally, FINALLY there had been some movement. Previously there were deleted emails, invitation cards hidden in drawers… if it wasn’t for Penny’s sake or for the good of the business, Scott didn’t see it as worthwhile. But this time, Scott had pinned the gilded rectangle of card to the noticeboard with a hurried circle around the date and a carefully inked question mark.

It was bitterly ironic that after all that time… even after actually standing over Scott with folded arms and while he messaged his friend to RSVP in the positive… when he’d nearly actually succeeded in nudging his brother into the light somehow as a result Virgil himself had run headlong into the dark. A cold, slimy tendril of fear crept into his heart and asked who on earth Virgil thought he would be if Scott didn’t need him anymore…

He shook it off because it was ridiculous.

Not to mention selfish.

“Scott, I’m sor….” he began but his brother had not been party to the developing inner monologue and was still some way behind him, despite leading the way off the rocky track on to the beach.

“So I can get rid of this?” He gesticulated irritably at his own forehead

“YES, Scooter.”

“Thank heaven, I hate it. Will it wash out?”

“Eventually. I have to top mine up every few washes.”

“Yours literally obliterates light particles though.”

The affectionate shoulder nudge was brief but it heralded a return of the easy natural proximity he’d missed so badly. His brother was back by his side and Virgil realised with a shock that breathing was suddenly effortless again.

There were other things they needed to discuss, difficult things he knew were coming and no doubt even more difficult things he was still as yet unaware of. But for a few moments, Virgil was more than happy to enjoy the respite of their well-rehearsed haircare banter:

“That’s not the dye it’s the secret ingredient. I told you, quit the super shiny addiction…

“SUPREME shiny…”

“Pfft, you know it’s the same formula, you’re just paying for the fancier packaging.”

“Not true, it’s a far higher quality product.”

Virgil poked his brother in the side of the head “And yet by some miracle, chemically identical.” He made a show of wiping the tip of his finger off on Scott’s shirt while meeting the faux-glare dead on. His brother’s eyebrows said outraged, the sparkle in the blue said bring-it-on. “Ditch the dark side Scotty, leave the slimy stuff to the teenagers and join team pomade. More natural, less greasy. Best tip Dad ever gave me.”

His brother’s flinch was fleeting but sent a shockwave through the narrow pocket of air between the two of them. Scott’s eyes slipped from his, the pocket widened and the warmth suddenly drained out of the sun.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #resurface fic #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

39 notes · View notes

witchofhimring · 1 year

Text

Younger and more beautiful

This series is being edited. I feel Alys came off as one dimensionally evil and the reader as a pretty flat character. So this will be heavily edited.

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear

Pairings:

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Part 2: Until there comes another

Part 4: To cast you down and take all you hold dear

Warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of stillbirth/miscarriages, death

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear.

To this day the words that both enthralled and haunted the Queen hovered over her dark head like a specter. It echoed as a constant reminder. She had become Queen and Alys had never felt more victorious. But every time the elation came, the rest would come roaring back.

Younger and more beautiful

To cast you down and take all you hold dear

As she sat proudly on her throne the ladies danced bellow. Alys had made sure that every one of her handmaidens were either less attractive or older than herself. Helped if they were both. But she could not banish every woman who could capture her husbands eye. Every time her husbands eyes drifted over the crowd Alys wondered if they were searching for a woman. She tried to convince herself that she was young, beautiful, and the King loved her. One of the Tyrell girls, sporting a beautiful head of auburn curls and sparkling blue eyes, ascended the stairs. She was on the arm of her father. Alys's fingers curled into her palm. "Lady Redwine." Alicent Hightower walked towards the woman. Of course the meddling old hag invited the woman. If Alys had her way the Dowager Queen would be out by now. But Aemond loved his mother. Anxiety clawed at Alys as she knew Alicent was the only person left in her way. Y/n was locked away and Daenerys was Gods know where. "Son." Without even using titles, Alicent advanced up the steps and embraced her son. All Alys received was a cold look. Alys had thought that maybe the Dowager Queen would take her side. After all, it was well known that Alicent did not get along with Y/n. But it seemed her dislike of the thrones newest occupant outweighed the old. One day, Alys would deal with her.

Her face ached from her daily ritual. Alys scrutinized each inch of her skin. There where no spots blemishing her pale skin. No wrinkle in sight. Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. She was still as lovely as when Aemond first fell in love with her. Pale fingers traced over her slightly swollen belly. Soon Y/n would know that Alys had accomplished what she had not. Satisfaction dwelled within her as she thought of Y/n's less than flattering body. Alys had always been careful to watch what she ate. No morsel of food passed her lips without thorough inspection. She doubted Y/n had been as vigilant. Hence why Alys never felt any pity for the woman. Y/n had taken her position for granted and lost everything. That was her fault, not Alys's.

Aemond Targaryen entered, still dressed in his kingly finery. Alys felt desire in the pit of her belly. Elegantly she got to her feet, the emerald train following her. Aemond gave her a sultry smile, noticing immediately that she wanted him. "My love." She sighed and placed her arms around his neck. Kisses littered his cheeks as they made towards the bed. "Stay with me tonight?" Alys's hair flowed down her back out of its up do. She knew what his answer would be, he had never once denied her. Alys was laid out of the former Queen's bed and pulled her husband close.

The contractions started early in the morning. By midday Alys was doubling over in pain. They had given her a small draft of milk-of-the-poppy and herbs, but it did little do dull her agony. Once nightfall fell Alys could barely breath. "Just one more push Your Grace!" The midwife could see the head. With one last almighty push Alys's child made their way into the world. Alys collapsed onto the sheets, exhausted but feeling elated. She had done it. She had given the King his heir. Now they would accept her as Queen. Soon Y/n and her bastard daughter would get word of her victory. "Hand him to me." Alys had forced herself to sit up. The midwifes looked at eachother before the bravest among them spoke. "My Queen, it is a girl."

Aemond looked down at their newborn daughter, Princess Aelena. Alys could hardly look at the baby. Her daughter was small with silver hair. A true Targaryen, but not a boy. Aemond picked up the girl and cradled her against his chest. "She's beautiful." His voice was quiet. Alys could not tell what her husband thought. He showed no outward signs of displeasure, but that did not mean Aemond was happy. Sometimes he was so hard to read. "I am so sorry." Alys cast her eyes downwards, praying he would not be angry with her. Aemond placed the baby down in her crib. With a sigh he walked over to Alys and sat down next to her. "I am happy to have a daughter. And we conceived her quickly, sons will follow."

"Yes. sons will follow."

It had been a dark day, the sun remaining hidden. On that day Alys, in all her curiosity, snuck into the woods. She had heard legends of a wood witch in its depths. Alys was not frightened, had never been frightened. When she wanted something she got it. Deeper she went. As as she treated along the forest floor she noticed there was no noise. Not even the twittering of a bird. The air became denser and her head started to spin. Still, the stubborn young woman pushed on. Finally, in the midst of a great swamp was a hut. It sat right in the middle. Through the thin fog Alys realized that crossing would be no easy challenge. She paced around for a while and thought of what to do. Eventually she noticed there was a path of rocks barely visible above the murky water. Tentatively she placed a foot on one of them. It was stable enough. Steeling herself, Alys set out. Rock over rock she went. She practically flew the last few steps. There was no door. Just some cloth hung, as if that could do the witch any good. She brushed the fabric aside and looked in. There was a fire in the center. But that was all she could make out. "You have come." Alys swallowed back a gasp. From the corner emerged a cloaked figure. She was old, very old. 'Step in." Alys obeyed.

"Are you sure this is wise My Queen." Questioned a meek Lady. Alys sat on her chair, crown on head. She had brought baby Aelena with her today. So that Lady Floris might see that she had triumphed over her former mistress. Floris Baratheon had been living in a self imposed exile since Y/n had left. But the King had ordered her to return to court. Today, Alys would show her who was Queen. "Lady Floris." Floris was only a little younger than Y/n, but she looked younger than Alys had expected. Much to Alys's disgruntlement it seemed Y/n's death had not dulled her beauty. She had dark brown hair that flowed behind her like a veil. Brown eyes held a golden hue to them. Unblemished skin showed none of the wears of the past four years. What was even more insulting was the fact she wore black. As a mere lady, Y/n was entitled to no more than a few weeks of mourning from her close friends and family. But she noticed many in black. They protested that black was quite fashionable these days, but Alys knew better. "My Lady, we welcome you to court." Alys straightened herself. Floris held a look of cool disinterest. Her arrogance angered the Queen. Then an idea occured to the Queen. A smile curled her lip. "My Lady. The King and I have considered this, and believe that you are the best candidate to act as governess to Princess Aelena. As you did such a good job looking after his bastard daughter I think you should agree." Rage flashed through the lady's eyes. Of course Alys would never let Floris be alone with her precious girl. Others would keep an eye on her. It would give her great satisfaction to have the lady toil away in service to the rightful princess.

Floris watched the baby tottle towards one of the ladies. She was still so so tired from all the errands Alys had her do. It seemed Alys was determined to make her pay. Floris reckoned that Alys would try and break her down and take all she held dear. But little did the foolish Queen realize this was not a surrender. Floris had contacted supporters of the deceased Queen to put the rightful heirs on the throne. She just had to spy and get what information she could. When the King appeared all three curtsied. The baby giggled and grabbed towards her father. Floris felt a thrill of anger as he cuddled the baby. Not at Aelena, but Aemond Targaryen. Here he was pretending he only had one daughter when there was another whom he had banished. Hatred for Aemond and Alys stirred in her heart. After everything her dear friend had been forced to suffer made her want to weep with rage. She hoped that one day the two of them world be forced to suffer as much as the late Queen had.

That was when an idea occured to her.

"I shall be Queen!" Alys was overwhelmed with the possibility her future might bestow on her. Queen. Oh to be the greatest woman in the land! But the witch just shook her head. "I am not done." Alys froze. "I shall not be Queen?" "You shall." "Then what is the rest?" And the words that haunted Alys for the rest of her days were uttered. "Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear." As Alys stepped out of the hut she swore to herself she would never let that happen.

And with that, she sealed her destiny.

Six months later:

Planning a rebellion had been easier than expected. Likely they never expected the King's daughter to rebel against her. Daenery's had always been an obedient daughter. Her father was her lord and King. The made who took her on Vhagar, read her stories and night and danced with her when she was little. But she loved her mother more, who had fought for her till the end. At nineteen Daenerys was no longer a little girl. Aemond Targaryen was no longer her world. In the past four years she had gone from princess to rebel. "My Queen. A letter." Viserys Targaryen, her betrothed, handed her a letter. She saw the wax "F" stamped on the front. She smiled. "It is from Lady Floris. It's time, and I think you have a dragon to claim."

Note: Last part is up next!

Taglist:

@watercolorskyy

@bellstwd

#aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x alys #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader angst #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst #alys rivers

333 notes · View notes

heartshapedbubble · 1 year

Note

Could I perhaps have something like those 2 long and well written Joseph and Luchino fic but with Soul Catcher? Thank you🙏

anon i am SO SORRY this took so long you might as well have my first born

also english isn't my first language so please have mercy on me i know i reuse the same words over and over 😔 reqs like these sadly clog my inbox even tho i like writing them so i'm gonna do something about them after i empty it!!

my very own prince charming, a soul catcher fanfic🧲☠️

cw for vomit mention in case you have emetophobia, reader's gender not specified although soul catcher uses a few spanish pet names (nouns) that are gendered because haha language rules, not proofread, warning for intense corniness, this is very bad i apologize, ALSO VERY LONG

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

There are amazing forces of Attraction and Repulsion between souls; just like when fate guides some people together and causes others to part.

After a period of indecisive skimming through the bookshelf, you picked out a thick, hardcover book.

You'd consider yourself quite picky regarding books - just a flashy cover and a taunting description wouldn't do it for you. A beautiful, elegant maiden and a handsome, charming prince were just one-dimensional props in the story, and you found all of those "new " and "wonderful " fantasy worlds described and mapped out on the front page generic and bland. You always seeked out something new, something that would leave you thirsting and longing for each damned word pressed onto the yellowing paper, make your fingers trail over dozens of pages in mere minutes. Yet, considering your little town in the south was limited to just one small, dusty library, finding such books would be considered an extreme sport.

So for now, you had to be satisfied with the usual, popular literature that the townsfolk read.

But today was special - you weren't in the mood for something new, or something outstanding, in fact you'd even say you wanted to read something normal. Something you could nonchalantly mention to your friends during afternoon coffee, with a plot so malleable and simple it would be woven around your conversation like it was nothing. The misadventures of a rookie knight, or the sorrows of a young, noble lady, all interpreted differently and abstractly and able to be swiftly analyzed and twisted over a cup of overly sweet coffee. Although the pile of smooth, newly released paperbacks at the entrance intrigued you, a minute later you found yourself squished between two dusty, polished wooden shelves, inspecting the book you just picked out.

Well, you didn't know you'd stoop that low, but what caught your eye right now was a book of fairy tales and fables. It was an old release, presumably donated to the library considering the oil stains on the brown paper that wrapped itself around the thick leather cover. Although worn out by time and basically crumbling from the outside, on the inside the lettering was flawless and written in an old, thick cursive, and simply bringing your face closer to the text would bless you with the scent of old, yet well kept books - the fresh smell of walnuts and baldachin beds and white cotton dresses, and even lilac bushes in the spring. Although all of these associations were of a life unknown to you, for some reason they made you feel at home.

There was another reason for you picking out this particular book - a reason you'd rather carry with you to your grave out of pride, unable to bend your head down and admit it. When life got unbearable and overbearing and the only way you felt safe and well was under heavy linen bedsheets or in the shade of the old pear tree, you'd curl up and indulge in the exact same books you usually despise. A humbling experience, indeed, but at times where safety and love were most neccessary fantasies were the quickest, most low-key way of getting what you needed the most at the moment. Projecting your being onto the flat sheet of a protagonist, you'd visualise yourself instead of them, you being the one kissing the hero's fading scars or having your hair braided by the thin, nimble fingers of the king's son. The amount of scenarios was neverending, and, well, if you couldn't get your fix with all these readily available options, you felt like you're doomed.

The book was now set inside your trusty linen bag while you were walking home. Oddly, the usually loud and populated city market was silent and not a soul could be seen out on the street, not even a head popping out of the window or a hand reaching for the hanged clothes that hung on the ropes high above the rocky path. While you were crossing the town bridge, you decided to stop to take a deep breath and enjoy for a bit, now that you weren't being pushed onward by the citizens and the merchants that usually piled behind you.

It does take a while to learn savor things, doesn't it? It takes until adolescence until the dark chocolate on your tongue unveils its rich, deep and bitter flavor, until you learn how special that first sip of morning coffee is and how good of a feeling it is to simply have another hand wrapped around yours. Same goes for nature, you thought to yourself as you looked over the bridge, watching the river speed under the arch and the plants inside of it wave around like silk scarfs. Without the noise pollution, you were finally able to hear the satisfying noises of the water sloshing over the rocks, droplets hitting each other every second. Without a second thought, you laid beside the edge of the bridge, your bag lazily hanging off of your wrist, and let yourself get lulled to sleep by the melody of the current.

That is, until the straps of the bag slipped off of your wrist.

Fuck.

You immediately jumped to your feet in panic, looking around for your bag. Yet, it was too late. It was nowhere to be found - it was probably already driven away by the river, taken to god-knows-where.

Well, it's not like you weren't aware of the risk. But your heart still ached - that was not your book, after all. And what a beautiful, old edition it was as well! There was no way you'd be able to properly apologize to the librarian, unless....

"Oye, muñeca, ta libre."

You jumped at the sudden voice whispering at your ear. You were sure no one was around here except you... or maybe..?

Slowly turning around, your face was met with another, yet wider, lathered with paint and shaded by the hat above's enormous brim. As the face moved away from yours and the person straightened their back, you found yourself gazing up and down at - what seemed to be, at least - a tall, youngish man, couldn't be above 28. Dressed in gaudy purple, green and black, adorned with flowers and gilded accessories, he looked like a living puppet, his chest and shoulders wide and his waist slim, proportions of a wooden harlequin they sold during the holiday season in the toy shop. Hanging off of his wrist was your beloved linen bag, the forsaken book inside still in tact, not a single droplet of water blemishing the paper.

"Who...? How did you...?" You muttered nonsense, as your arms needily reached for the bag that he gently waved around. Props to the visuals, but you had your priorities.

"It's all reflexes, sugar. Was taking a nap underneath the bridge, you know, all that wandering around numbs out your legs, and your little sack here just happened to fall close enough to my hand for me to grab it in time. Be a little more careful next time, will you, doll?" The man-puppet replied nonchalantly as he tossed the bag into your arms.

"Thank you, I- wait, what?" You quickly snapped out of your daze. "Napping? Under the bridge? "

"Don't judge it before you try it", he whistled, crossing his arms behind his head, "The cobblestone ain't the comfiest, but it does wonders for your back."

You sneered at his carefree expression, as if lying under a bridge was the most normal thing to do. Who exactly was this fellow, and who did he think he was?

"And you expect to believe me all that?"

"Hm?" He jolted a bit, not expecting a question, maybe a compliment, but definetly not a skeptical remark.

"Napping under a bridge? Seriously? You catching my bag is impressive, yes, but there's no way it was that much of a skillful feat. You probably dozed by the river's shore and suddenly found a bag by your side like any other guy at this hour. Who are you even, some wannabe-show-off-superhero?"

To your suprise, he just smirked back at you, lowering his torso until his face was just inches away from yours. So close, you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks, and his raspy voice rumbled inside your ears.

"How about you take a wild guess."

Stumped by his question, you took a few steps back. Your eyes now digesting his form in his entirety, you rubbed your chin as you gazed up and down at the man, posing, obviously very into the careful stare you were dissecting him with.

"Enjoying the view, hm, azúcar? "

"Give me a break! I'm trying to focus." You mumbled, panicking a bit, sensing that your cheeks started to flame up. To be honest - even under all that fabric and thick paint, he was quite a looker. The black paint defined his jawline in all the right places, and man, that silly outfit of his was tailored pretty damn well, gripping his legs and his biceps enough to define them nicely.

Although visually he was as fancy as a rich man's birthday cake, nothing seemed to pop out from his outfit, as if every embroidered piece of textile and every golden stud was carefully planned out. However, upon better inspection, one of them seemed to take the cake - it was the small shiny skull on top of his hat, shaped like a squished pear, a few nails stabbed into it like birthday candles. The cherry on top of it all - metaphorically and literally.

"The skull on your hat... looks like a well-made prop to me. You're some kind of entertainer, huh?"

A playful smile appeared on the lad's lips, yet it wasn't a confirming one. "You're getting closer, but no, not exactly."

"Street musician?"

"I can be one if you desire, but it's not exactly my main job."

"Actor?"

"Only behind the scenes, dear. But I can see by the look in your eye that you're going to head in the right direction." This little guessing game seemed to amuse him to no end.

"With all that flashy wear, it seems fair to assume you might even be some kind of high-end magician, performing for nobles or aristocrats. Or some wannabe wizard."

He bit his lip, the smile widening with each guess. He seemed more excited about this than you were.

A flower painted around his left eye. A belt fastened around his waist, with a big golden buckle. Sheer black gloves covering his hands in their entirety, bones painted in gold on his knuckles and fingers.

A glowing ring - no, a disk - hanging from the side of his belt, rocking with the movement of his hips.

Wait. It couldn't be. The disk looked too...

"Hold on a second. You couldn't be..."

"Sí, muñeca? "

"Are you..."

Before you could even finish your sentence he grinned from ear to ear and inched even closer to you, his nose now touching yours, as if he just managed to read your mind.

"Bingo."

The legend of the Soul Catcher was told times and times again, twisted and folded like fresh taffy to suit every possible scenario in one's life. To children, it was told to scare them into going to bed in time. To teenagers, it was told to ward them off from the forest at the edge of the town. To young adults, it was told to motivate them into becoming independent and to work hard. To newlyweds, it became a prayer, to protect the newly formed family and to bring safety to their home. He was not the Reaper, but if a soul was left astray, detached from the body it resided in, everyone knew well that once the Soul Catcher gets his hands on it, that it won't be back ever again. He was both a devil and a saint, a villain and a vigilante - but one thing was sure, he was well respected. No one knew if it was out of fear or out of genuine admiration. And what was even weirder - not a single person was sure if he ever actually existed.

Not a single adult, at least.

The legend was not a new one, in fact, it has been told for a little less than a century. If you were to have a little extra patience and attention, you could hear the town's elders occassionally mumble about seeing him as a child in the forest, or him visiting them in a dream. But their interpretations varied from tale to tale - he went from a spirit, to a ghoul, to simply an omen, either good or bad. Since the townspeople couldn't agree on a single, concrete definition, the Soul Catcher remained a concept, embodied by what seemed to be multiple entities.

However, if you were to ask a child about the Soul Catcher, you'd get a much more vivid and universal description than anything an adult could tell you. All of them were along the lines of "magical jester", and what was weirder, almost all of the children confessed that the Soul Catcher played with them. And no, it wasn't just a single sighting, he played with multiple kids at once, even going as far to balancing three of them on his shoulders and telling them stories. During the hot, damp afternoon hours of the summer, huge groups of children snuck out of their homes just to play with him. When their mothers soaked their cramped hands and their fathers took their first break after the morning shift, their beloved kids were out on the dusty streets, carefully following every word seeping off of the Soul Catcher's silver tongue.

The only thing that bound the varying opinions and theories of both the young and the old was the trusty disk that always hung by his hip, rumored to be the tool he used to attract and harvest souls. And this same legendary disk was now hanging off of the belt of the man in front of you, green and purple mist enveloping it.

The myth himself, in the flesh, in front of you.

"You were quicker than I thought you'd be. Bravo, dollface." He smiled and patted your head. "If we ignore your initial hostility, you seem quite confident in the fact that i'm the real deal. Mind telling me why?"

"Well, you don't see someone parading around with THE exact disk that the Soul Catcher uses. Everyone agrees on the main description of its appearance, but to be completely fair, no one around here is skilled enough to make a replica that's convincing enough."

"I see. It's nice to see somebody with both the wits and the pretty face." He chuckled. Who would have known that he's such a flirt? Nontheless, to your shame your face lit up at his silly compliment. There was just something about him that made you weak in the knees.

"Alright. I believe I should prove you I'm the real thing now." He unhooked the disk from his belt, spun it around in his hand, and hopped a few steps away from you. He pointed the disk at your chest, positioning himself as if he's getting ready to react to a suprise attack. You didn't know what he was trying to do, but you felt as if you shouldn't make a sound or even object to it.

A tension-filled silence wrapped around you two for 20 seconds. After 10 more which seemed more like 10 minutes, you felt your body move. Move, although your legs were planted at the same spot they were before. Your head ached and pulsed, you felt dizzy as if your intestines were tying themselves into knots. To be sick without actual pain, to move without any movement, what was he doing to you? If this keeps up, you might just end up vomiting out your stomach along with its contents. It was like being carsick, except the sickness rumbled not only through your abdomen, but through each one of your limbs as well.

"Here, I stopped. It's all over. Sorry for this."

The headache seemed to halt, and your body was back to normal, yet your hands and legs still felt a bit sore. He was now above you, his hand stretched out to your sides in case you lost your balance.

"...What did you just do to me?" You yawned, trying to stand up straight again.

"What you just experienced was your soul being harvested from your, already inhabited, body. I usually refrain from doing this, but I felt like I should let anyone that witnesses me up close go through this. Y'know, I want to be honest with people. That although they've seen me in the flesh and talked to me, they're fully aware of what I can do so they can prevent themselves from getting harmed."

"Does this imply you sucked someone's soul out from their living body?"

"Maybe", he shamefully turned his head away, "but it was never on purpose. Usually it was them reaching for the disk, or trying to see it up close. It pains me, since in most cases it's nearly impossible to return the original soul to its old body."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Sorry for ruining the mood, I felt like I needed to warn you first."

"Oh no, seriously, it's alri-"

"May I walk you to your house, jewel?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me the first time." He extended his hand, waiting for your next move.

What a peculiar man, indeed. First he tries to suck out the life out of you to give you a heads-up, and then he offers to walk you home like a gentleman.

And you'd be lying if that offer didn't sound thrilling. So now, your hand was intertwined with his, you trying to slow down as much as possible to make the moment last.

"I realized I had forgot to ask for your name. My apologies. Not very gentlemanly of me, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't mind it. It's ____."

"___..." He looked up at the sky, rubbing his chin, as if he was trying to remember something, your name echoing on his lips multiple times.

"Pretty name, but it doesn't ring a bell. You're not among the horde of youth that I visit, are you?"

"Nope. I'd say i'm more of a loner most of the time. I like socializing and all, but nothing's like a good book that you can read in one sitting."

"I figured. No way in hell I'd forget such a cute face like yours, even if I saw it for a split second." He smiled and pinched your nose. If his plan was to drive you insane, he was incredibly effective.

"How come people have such different reports about you? Can you shapeshift?" Trying to lead a conversation with him felt like navigating through a mine field - there were no known limits, no known good or bad questions, or any shared topics you two could talk about. But you'd lie if you said it didn't excite you - waiting for his response, never being able to predict the next word that will come out of his mouth.

He sighed. "If you wore the same pair of pants every day, wouldn't you get tired of it?"

"I suppose..?"

"Well, yeah. It's that. Mix it with hallucinations the brain dials up once it's met with something outside the world it knows, and here's your answer. I'm no sprite or shapeshifter, just a regular guy who made a regrettable deal years ago. I might have the powers of the dead on my side, but at what cost?"

You shrugged. As much as you wanted to quiz him and get him to talk about himself, right now biting your tongue and playing it cool seemed like the best idea. Getting deeply invested in his life might not lead to good places.

"So... you're one of those so-called bookworms, hm? You've been carrying a book inside that bag of yours the entire time, too." You could feel his hand slip from yours, trailing across your arm to your shoulder, then to the other, gripping it softly. His touch felt warm on your skin, very human and real despite what he did for a living.

"...Yeah. In fact, I was just on my way from the library back at the bridge where I met you. I just borrowed it." You smiled shyly, holding the bag tightly in your arms. Knowing his curiosity and boldness, a feeling of panic unfolded in your chest, dreading what he might say next.

"Mind me taking a peek at what you're reading?"

Aaand this was it. The moment you prayed will not happen, but his chin was already resting on your shoulder, trying to get a peek at the contents of the bag.

"H-hey, hey! Back off! That book's my business, after all!" You giggled, holding it tighter and tighter, trying to laugh off your growing anxiety. If there's one person that you wouldn't like knowing about your little self-indulgent hobby, then it was Soul Catcher. But your tightest grip was easily undone by his loosest, and now your book was in his left hand, clumsily open, and the digits of his right were buried in the strands of your hair, holding your head away with careful but great strength. Even with your annoyed and panicked groans and your hands clawing at him, he simply couldn't miss the opportunity to steal a look at a few titles.

"Calm down there, you're acting as if it was a pipe bomb that you were carrying!" He chuckled, trying to stay composed as his body lost balance under your pushes and pulls. Yet your delight was short-lived, as only a second was needed for him to spread the pages open with his thumb and smugly read some of the titles out loud.

"Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty... seems like someone's a sucker for Prince Charming, hm?" He snickered, but gave in to your pleas and dropped the book right into your sack.

"Would it hurt your pride to not dig through others' stuff?" You hissed, patting the bag in relief. "A-and is there something so wrong with indulging in childhood comfort anyway?"

"Oh, not only would it hurt it, it would kill it. Besides, something tells me that this little guilty pleasure of yours goes beyond just childhood comfort", he whistled in his usual self-satisfied tone, yanking at his suspenders, "But hey, who am I to say?"

"Oh, does it?" You gave him a taste of his own medicine, grimacing right at his face, making sure each word rumbled through his skull. "Well, what if I told you that such absurd assumptions are indeed incredibly untasteful, especially when left unelaborated? Just imagine how much of a hit that could be to your fragile ego..."

"¡Dios mío! You couldn't possibly...!" He dramatically threw his head back. At least something was true - he really was an actor behind the scenes. "Oh lord, it truly seems like the only way to make it up for you, your majesty, is to explain myself beneath your ice-cold gaze, like an accused pauper chained and laid before the king!"

Both of you laughed away at your ridiculous actions.

He cleared his throat, after a good minute of dying from laughter. "O-okay, where were we? Ah, yes, your dirty little secret." With his hands crossed behind his back and his gaze innocently directed at the sky, it seemed like this was a touchy subject for him, too. "Well, from all my previous experiences with people, I noticed that a lot of them like to fantasize about, well, a world where everything is just better - usually some kind of unrealistic fairytale utopia. It helps them feel better about their problems, especially during adolescence." His eyes briefly shifted to yours, watching them as if he's waiting for you to point out a fuck-up nested in his wording.

"Alright, continue...?"

"And, uhm, although fairy tales are meant for kids and all and are read by them, these same adolescents use them as a vessel for said utopias, or simply, a medium."

His lips were pressed into a firm line, waiting for your feedback.

"Bravo, jester", you treated him with a teasing smile, ruffling the stray locks of hair peeking out from his hat, "You got yourself out this time."

"Well then, call me Houdini." He smiled back, scratching the back of his neck. "Jeez, even though that fantasy thing should have gotten into my skull for the most part, I still can't fathom what's so special about the Prince Charming trope.. It's so annoying! Are y'all really drooling over the same guy in different fonts?"

"To be fair, it leaves a lot to the imagination. You can interpret him however you like, twist his personality to your liking."

"But that's exactly why it's horribly overused! Dressing every fictional man in a suit of already desired personalities is... boring! No variety, no depth - nothing! Do they really not find real people with actual lives, emotions, thoughts and opinions more appealing?"

It was a bit funny, him getting worked up over this, as if he was deeply insecure about it. You decided to fuel the fire a bit.

"Well, what does your average Prince Charming have that, let's say, I lack?"

"A great personality?"

"Oh, come on. Now you're just being mean." He sighed, traces of laughter in his sigh. "Damn you, muñeca." You chuckled.

"Big muscles?"

"These babies don't look defined to you?" He pouted jokingly, flexing his arm. Shit. Your face warmed up for a bit. For a second, a satisfied grin appeared on his face, liking the reaction he coaxed out of you through your composed armour.

"Strength and brave- AH!" You didn't even get to finish your sentence, and a moment barely passed, but his left arm was already wrapped around your calves, his right under your arm and around your back, his body leaned into yours and suddenly - you were hanging off his shoulder stomach-down, like a potato sack. "Oh my god yo- put me down!"

He whistled, holding you down to supress your squirming. "Strong enough for you, doll?"

"Not fair..." You groaned, lifelessly plopping onto him.

"You didn't answer my question~"

"Yes. Strong enough." It was quite enjoyable up on his shoulder, actually. After the initial panic passed it became nice, the rhythmic bouncing of his walk lulling you to sleep. You could get used to this.

"Now that's music to my ears." He showed no sign of letting go any time soon, perhaps he liked the smell of your perfume on your neck, and your weight resting on top of him, like a thick winter blanket.

"Since you've already decided to pick me up, would you be kind enough to carry me to my house?" You mumbled, your eyelids already feeling heavy. "That house, over there." Pointing at the tall, cobblestone house, you yawned.

"Entiendo, sirenita."

"How did you- actually, you know what? Nothing can suprise me anymore. You climbed up my balcony, didn't you?"

The sun was setting, and Soul Catcher was leaning against the railing of your balcony, your bag thrown around his frame.

"Actually I slid off the roof, but you're not that far off, beautiful." Every time your name was replaced - or you were simply called by - a soft pet name coming from his mouth, you felt as if your stomach would explode. Something about the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, whispering endearments to you like you're the only person remaining in the world along with him. And whenever he read and peered through your façade as your face turned red and your breathing got deeper, he took a step further, engaging in the sensual, mental tango forming around you two. "I forgot to return your bag. Sorry."

"It's alright. I appreciate that you went out of your way for me." Gosh, the way you tortured him! Whenever he was smooth and flirtly and you punched him in the face with your kind, unfiltered smile instead of flirting back, it was like his heart was momentarily shattered into pieces and then bound again. The irresistable two-step of games and suave words was driving him insane and momentarily, in his mind it was your face, and your body, and your voice that called for him and your coldness clashing with his warmth, and it was making him dizzy. Behind his eyes, his brain was melting, and his heart was no different. To fall so quickly for a stranger - well, it's no secret that he's been depraved of actual love and affection beyond one night stands and empty promises to dozens of lovers from different times - was nothing new to him, but this attachment was not the same, it was permanent, stable, and wasn't going away any time soon.

"So, ___..." You turned quickly. When it was just your name and not something snarky on his lips, it seemed more important. "...You got any plans for the evening?"

"Oh- not really. Do you, though?"

"Not a plan, but rather an idea, a proposition, even." His voice was breathier as if he was nervous, coughing up the words from his chest. "If you want to, we could, y'know, watch the sunset together. I'm quite fond of sunsets myself, so I was wondering..."

"So you're proposing a date?" A date. As if he flinched when he heard the word.

"Well, yeah, a date, if you want to call it that." He said as he bit his lip. "Are you up?"

"Why not?" You whispered, creeping slowly towards him. "That sounds like a nice way to spend the evening."

"I'm glad." he smiled. In that little moment all of his confidence returned, and now his voice was clear again and he was back on his feet, jumping on top of the railing like the most skilled of acrobats and making his way to the roof. "You're coming, no?"

"And how exactly do you want me to come?"

"Grab my hand. Come on." His hand hanged from above, pushed as far as possible to reach you. "I'll pull you up."

You gulped. Heights remained a minor fear of yours ever since childhood, and having to face said fear head-first out of nowhere wasn't very appealing. "But what if I fall?"

"Believe me, muñeca, you won't."

"How can you be so sure!?"

He took a deep breath, trying to speak as gently as possible to calm you down.

"Trust me, ___. It's my hand around yours, no one elses, and my strength that's going to pull you up. I'm here for you. Please."

You didn't know when, you didn't know how, but the height suddenly stopped being a problem and, in a flashing moment, you were in his arms, being pulled to the middle of the roof.

"The clouds are such a beautiful color today. Light pink, as if they're crowning the sun before the moon rises."

Your back facing him, his chin on your shoulder, his breath on the nape of your neck.

"It's even more beautiful right before it goes down. They turn blood red, melting with the sky."

His arms wrapped around you, your hand around his wrist, your legs thrown over his.

"Do you have to go soon?" You whispered with a heavy heart.

"I should go." He suddenly stopped. "But I don't want to."

"Please. Stay for another moment."

He pulled you closer and closer to him, now his mouth right by your ear.

"Of course. A moment."

And it was more than a moment.

And more than an hour.

And only the crescent moon was the witness, and what it saw was sealed for eternity once the sun rose on the horizon again.

230 notes · View notes