#hands down the funniest video i have on my phone

[childrenofcain-if]

If I can't have a D and C love triangle, it relies upon me to instead romance C and start drama by trying to steal their best friend 😌

MC just knocks on their door, C answers and MC just ducks under their arm to throw themselves on D's bed and chatter at them 😂

Even funnier if you have an MC with the same major as D, MC just makes excuses that they have questions about assignments every time they barge in there, C you can't kick us out 🥺😈

(Also funnier bc I totally see D as an enabler, they'd let MC do it even though they know MC is trying to piss off C just bc it's hilarious. I'll do those dumb TikTok videos with u 😌)

the dorm door swung open with more force than necessary, revealing C’s sharp green gaze, narrowed in suspicion. you offered a dazzling grin, the one that always got you in trouble in the best ways.

“really?” C asked dryly, leaning against the doorframe. “it’s nine in the morning. what is it this time?”

without answering, you ducked under C’s arm in a smooth, practiced motion, like a snake slipping past a gate. your shoes squeaked on the polished floor as you caught sight of D lounging on their bed from the open door to their room, propped up against a pile of haphazardly arranged pillows, a lazy grin already stretching across their face.

“rook!” you called, all energy as you practically threw yourself onto their bed, landing with a soft thud against their pillows. “got questions about the music theory assignment. you know, the one about the baroque fugues? totally can’t get this one part, and C won’t know how to explain music-related stuff to me.”

D raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at their lips. “sure. because that’s definitely why you’re here.”

C exhaled sharply, the sound exasperated, and turned to glare at you. “you do this every time. you’ve got your own room, you know. you’re basically acting like a freeloader here.”

“you can’t kick me out,” you said lightly, not bothering to look at them as you snatched D’s phone off the nightstand and flipped through their tiktok feed like you owned the entire place. “this isn’t just your suite. and besides, this is academic, C. rook is a sophomore in the same major as me and is way better at explaining these things than you.”

“right,” C said, crossing their arms. “totally academic. like last week when you were ‘asking about the homework’ but spent two hours watching a true crime documentary with D on their bed.”

D snorted, glancing up from their macbook. “i mean, it’s hard to say no when they bring interesting documentaries to watch. and memes. and snacks.”

C looked between the two of you, incredulous. “oh, so that’s how it is? you’re just enabling this now?”

D shrugged, smirking. “what can i say? they’re entertaining. and they did help my band get some really good social media exposure. it’s only fair.”

“see?” you chimed in, wiggling D’s phone at C in triumph. “rook gets it.”

C’s jaw clenched, their eyes flicking from you to D, then back to you. “je jure devant dieu, you’re doing this on purpose.”

you put a hand to your chest in mock offense. “on purpose? who, me? why, i’d never! why would i ever want to bother you, dear C? i’m just here for the assignments.”

D laughed openly now, closing garageband and setting their macbook down. “yeah, C. maybe they really need help. you wouldn’t want them to fail, would you?”

“i think they’ll survive,” C snapped, though the edge in their voice faltered when their best friend winked at them. they could tell that D was enjoying this far too much, feeding off their frustration like it was the funniest thing in the world. and the worst part? they weren’t even trying to hide it.

C pinched the bridge of their nose, muttering something about how they didn’t sign up for this when they agreed to become suitemates with D. but beneath the frustration, there was something that flickered in their eyes—a faint shadow of jealousy that you weren’t supposed to notice.

you stretched your arms above your head, taking up more space on D’s bed, much to C’s obvious displeasure.

“so, rook,” you started, turning to them with a mischievous grin, “when are we filming some more tiktoks? i’ve got a few ideas, and you’ll have to be my partner. C’s welcome to join, of course.”

D grinned indulgently. “oh, i’m in. C, you gonna grace us with your oh-so-broody presence?”

“i’m not broody.” C said, rolling their eyes and finally stepping into the room, shutting the door with a soft click. the tension in their posture hadn’t eased though. “and pass. i’m not making a fool of myself online for either of you idiots.”

“yet,” you teased, leaning back on D’s bed and enjoying the way C’s irritation simmered, their jaw clenched tight as they stood there. “you’ll cave eventually. you haven’t seen how... persuasive i can be sometimes, lacroix.”

†††

later, when you had finally left, having thoroughly disrupted the peace, C cornered D in the kitchen as they were making coffee for both of them.

“you’ve got to knock it off with them,” C said, voice low but edged with exasperation. “they’re just doing this to piss me off.”

D raised an eyebrow, casually leaning against the counter and handing C their cup. “okay, and?”

“and you’re encouraging it,” C snapped.

D’s lips curved into a slow, almost playful smile. “maybe i like having them around. they’re something else, don’t you agree?”

C’s stomach tightened, a knot of jealousy twisting inside them. “that’s not the point. you and i both know their intentions aren’t just to ‘hang out’ with you.”

D shrugged, clearly unbothered. “so what if that’s the case? why do you have your underwear in a bunch about this?”

C looked away, jaw clenched tight, because for a moment—just a moment—they weren’t sure if their feelings for you were all negative. and that scared them.

D’s voice softened, but the teasing lilt remained. “i wasn’t lying when i told you that i find their company nice, C. they’re more interesting than half the student population here combined.” there was a pause, heavy and deliberate. “they’re pretty hot too. i wouldn’t mind asking them out either one of these days.”

C stared at the dark-haired rockstar, struggling to find the words. D was still smirking, knowing exactly how this was affecting them—knowing, and enjoying every second of it.

“are you being serious about this?” C asked, finally.

D’s smile widened, and they leaned in just a little closer. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

and with that, D walked away with a melodic hum, leaving C alone with their thoughts. the ceramic cup cracked under their iron grip and dripped hot coffee on the counter and their skin. somehow, they couldn’t bring themself to care about that.

[redscrawl]

i will never be able to forget my supernatural era because when i was 14 at the peak of my spn fixation, i was recording a video to send to my friend of me goofing around and singing carry on wayward son. and in that moment, on video, while i’m singing carry on wayward son, my mom walks in and THAT is when she decides to tell me she’s divorcing my father

[starkwlkr]

annoying little brothers | f1

female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) (same age as daniel so 33)

part 2 part 3

Y/N L/N BEING THE FUNNIEST DRIVER ON THE GRID

The video starts of with a press conference from the United States Grand Prix. Y/n was seated with Charles, Pierre, Daniel and Sebastian her being in the middle of all the men who she considered her brothers.

She was listening to all the questions the men were receiving from how they thought they were going to do, how’s the team doing, etc. But when a reported finally asked her a question, she completely blanked.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about my son. We were supposed to get breakfast together and he hasn’t texted me back. I haven’t seen Lando all day.” Y/‘ said making the drivers and reporters laugh.

“When did you adopt Lando? I wasn’t aware.” Daniel played along.

“2019. He was actually lost when I met him. It was during the Australian Grand Prix, his first f1 race. I found him and we did the Melbourne walk together and I’ve just kind of adopted ever since. So if any of you bully my son, I’m coming after you.” Y/n explained.

“He’s probably texting you right now saying ‘stop embarrassing me, mom!’” Sebastian went on.

“Wait, he’s over there!” Pierre spotted the Brit rushing towards their direction.

“He’s alive!” Charles cheered.

Finally, Lando arrived to their interview area with a box from a a bakery in his hand. “Sorry, I have to drop this off. We’ll get breakfast tomorrow. I got you pastries.” Lando gave Y/n the box and a hug then he was off since he was late for his interview.

“You’ve raised your son well.” The reporter joked.

“That was all me, I needed no help.”

The next clip was a fan video from 2021. Y/n had just finished her date with a guy and now she was signing autographs and taking photos with a group of girls. The girls had just finished their meals at a restaurant when they spotted the f1 driver leaving with a guy. The politely asked for a photo, which y/n was more than glad to take. Her date stepped aside to give them a moment.

“Sorry to interrupt your date.” A girl apologized for her and all her friends.

“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. I’m actually nervous because I don’t know how the date went. I’m horrible at first dates so this is kinda making me less stressed.” Y/n admitted. The girls laughed as y/n signed a girls phone case.

“Has he met Lando?” Another girl asked knowing how close y/n and lando are.

“Not yet. I’m afraid that Lando might scare him off. Everyone on the grid might, especially seb. He will definitely give him one of those ‘treat her right or I will run you over’ speeches.” Y/n signed another phone case.

“Does he knows you’re famous?”

“Oh god, no! I told him I was unemployed and that a sugar daddy was giving me money. I’m surprised he still agreed to come on this date with me.” Y/n chuckled.

Months later, the guy ended up being y/n’s boyfriend. He even attended the British Grand Prix where he finally met Lando, who was actually the one to tell him to treat y/n right or he would run him over.

The next clip started off with the intro to grill the grid. The challenge was to guess the driver’s numbers, something that y/n was semi confident about.

“So we start off with my man, Danny, number three.” She wrote down on her clipboard. “Four, my son, Lando. Also ever since I met Lando I’ve been seeing the number four quite often. It’s scary actually. Can’t decide if Lando put a curse on me or not.”

“Would he do that?”

“He shouldn’t,” y/n raised her voice slightly. “Anyways, next is … oh! Seb! I don’t know why I couldn’t think of him right away. Then we have latifi at number six then kimi at seven.” She continued writing down the names.

“Nine ….Mazepin.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes since her and the driver were never on good terms.

“Ten, my favorite frenchie well one of, we treat everyone nice here, gasly.” Y/n winked at the camera. “Eleven, the mexican minister of defense, Perez. And then we have me! Thirteen!”

“Do you think Lando got your number right?”

“I don’t doubt him ever.”

“Thirteen, my mother! Everyone better get that right.” Lando pointed at the camera menacingly.

“Fourteen, Alonzo. Sixteen, Leclerc Charles. Eighteen, stroll and twenty two!” Y/n sang the number in the tune of taylor swift’s song. “Yuki! Thirty one, Esteban, my other frenchie. Thirty three, max does he have a middle name verstappen.”

“Have you noticed that you haven’t gotten any wrong yet?”

“I’m just the best, that’s why.” Y/n laughed. “Forty four, the seven time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. Fourty seven, mick mick mick. I love to say his name.”

Y/n had completely forgotten she had to be writing the names down. She was having too much fun.

“Fifty five, carlos smooth operator sainz jr. sixty three, the man with two first names, russell george.” Y/n said as she looked down at the numbers on the paper.

“Do you know his middle name?”

Y/n gasped. “Is it another first name?”

“I believe it’s William.”

“Three names!? It sounds so british.” Y/n chuckled. “Um, seventy seven valtteri, right?” Y/n saw the interviewer nod. “I was getting worried my streak would be broken. And ninety nine, antonio!”

“You got all of them!” Everyone in the room cheered.

“Did anyone else get them all?” Y/n asked.

“Daniel did.”

“Of course. He’s good with numbers.”

The next clip was from the same grill the grid video but it was a blooper. Lando had arrived right as y/n finished filming and handed her a water bottle.

“Did you get my number?” Lando asked curiously.

“Yeah, ninety five, right? Cause you’re a McQueen fan.” Y/n teased as she grabbed the bottle from lando’s hand.

“Yeah, you remembered!” Lando played along “how did she really do?” He asked.

“She got them all right.”

“Really? I’ve got a smart mother!” Lando high fived the woman.

“It’s because I’ve got a photographic memory.” Y/n nodded with the most serious face on.

“Do you really?” Lando asked. He was surprised to hear that.

“No, I just love to lie.”

The next clip started with Daniel and Lando standing next to boards with their 2022 rankings. As predicted, Daniel and Lando’s part of the interview was mostly filled with them drawing over each other’s pictures.

Daniel them knocked over Lando’s rankings to the ground. “That’s how I feel.”

“That was the worst timing ever. Y/n is walking this way.” Lando told Daniel, who immediately picked up the board.

“Are those your rankings?” Y/n asked as she approached the duo. She then noticed that the setup and quickly apologized to the camera man. “Sorry, I’m just curious now.”

“Are you proud of me?” Lando asked, standing next to her and throwing his arm over her shoulder.

“When am I not? Wait, except that time you pushed me into my birthday cake.” Y/n pinched his side. “Can I see the pen?” She asked the guys, Lando gave her his.

“She’s adding to our masterpieces. This piece will be worth millions years from now.” Daniel said.

Y/n then scribbled little stars around Lando’s head and then signed it at the top. “Actually you both look great in your pictures. Did they use photoshop?”

“Excuse me, this is all natural.”

“Y/n! Hi, hello. What’s going on here?” Martin brundle asked the woman as she walked with her mom and pr manager, Lucy.

“Martin! It’s been a while, nothing much. How are you?” Y/n hugged the former racing driver. “This is my mom, she’s been wanting to meet you.”

“Mrs. l/n, hello. Welcome, how are you?” Martin greeted the older woman.

“Great. I’m here supporting my girl. It’s been a wonderful weekend.” Y/n’s mom smiled.

“Are you aware that you have a grandson that drives for McLaren?” Martin asked making all three ladies laugh.

“Yes, Lando is a very lovely young man.”

“How does it feel to have a daughter and grandson in f1?” Martin asked in a serious tone.

“Amazing. I’m super proud of both of them.”

“Thank you ladies for your time. Have a wonderful day.” Martin smiled at them, but before he could leave, y/n gave him a hug goodbye.

“Take care, Martin!” Y/n waved to the man and left with her mom and Lucy.

“She wins everything. Give her all the trophies. Everything is hers.” Martin said to the camera.

The final clip was consisted of y/n after a race getting interviewed.

“Do you often see your father?” Someone asked from the back.

“No, actually we’re just good friends.”

“What’s your opinion on the president of the United States?” Asked the same person.

“I don’t think about him.”

“What’s going on between max verstappen and lewis hamilton?”

“I don’t know, I just work here.”

[daenysx]

those tiktok videos where couples are ranking types of kisses but it’s you and james 🧚🏻‍♀️✨😭 if you write it, thank you very much for your time ❤️

i hope i got this right, thank you for requesting, angel!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, please let me know what you think if you like this guys <33333

james potter x fem!reader, fluff (lots of kissing haha)

it's so easy to get james in the mood for trying a new tiktok ranking trend.

he's been obsessed with them lately, keeps trying different stuff just for fun when he waits for you to join him in bed at night. the funniest part of this for you is that he actually takes them so seriously, he gets visibly disappointed when he puts an option in the wrong place and regrets it later.

"i'm gonna show you something." you say, sitting on bed with your phone in your hand.

"what's that angel?" he asks, pulling you closer. "your hair smells amazing, come closer."

you settle down next to him and open the app on your phone. "we're gonna rank types of kisses."

"oh, that's new? i've never seen it."

"i just saw a couple doing it, thought you'd enjoy." you laugh.

"um-yes, please?" he says, seriously. god, you love him so much.

"okay." you hold the phone in front of you. "so, when a type of kiss appears on the screen, you'll give me that kiss and i'll rank."

james clearly likes the idea, he sits straighter on bed. you look at him before starting, he nods.

'neck kiss' appears on the screen and james gives you a perfect kiss on your neck. you love how he pays attention to your neck all the time so it's a clear favorite.

"this can actually be the first one." you say. "but no, three."

'hand kiss' comes next and james kisses your knuckles. "good?" he asks. "i feel like i'm under pressure."

you laugh. "gonna put it in number six."

next one is 'nose kiss', you cheekily rub your nose on james's. "you don't like this so much." he says.

"um, eight."

"i wonder which one will be ten."

'earlobe kiss' appears. "oh my god." you laugh. james kisses your earlobe and it's too loud. "that's ten."

you regret your decision when 'bite kiss' comes next. "no!" you laugh. "don't bite me."

"sorry, angel." he laughs. he bites your arm softly.

"nine."

you put 'top of the head kiss' on number four. "you could do better than that." you say to james, smiling.

"i definitely could." he agrees. "this is hard."

"okay, 'lip kiss' next, you gotta be quick."

james kisses your lips but he hates how there's not enough time. "gonna put it in two." you say. "but number two and number three are just so close, jamie, i'm not sure."

"that's okay, we're totally doing this every night, you can change that." he whispers against your ear playfully.

"oh, wait." you say. 'forehead kiss' comes next. it's definitely your favorite, james takes an extra second to keep his lips on your skin. "that's number one."

"you're so predictable, sweetheart."

"it's kind of your fault."

you put 'cheek kiss' on number five. it could be number four but you feel a bit distracted by james's lips, you have no strategy left.

"what's number seven, then?" james asks.

'french kiss' comes and you laugh so hard, you drop the phone. "yes!" james says, he laughs with you and change your positions on bed. "we're gonna have to do it, you know."

"yeah? for the game?"

"mm-hmm." he agrees. you lay under him now. "for the game."

the kiss is nice because james stops teasing and kisses you with all his heart. you cup his cheek, pull him closer on top of you. your breathing slows down when your tongues meet, james sucks on your bottom lips deliciously. when you're apart you can't get your thoughts straight.

"that's definitely not number seven." you whisper.

"if only i had this much time to do all the others-" james starts, kisses you again. you spend the next minutes kissing with your eyes closed and bodies entwined. your phone is long forgotten when james takes off your shirt.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : “if a girl walks up to you …”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannon/blurb based on the tiktok trend “if a girl walks up to you and flirts what are you doing?”

mickey speaks : randomly had this thought tdy & hamzah has been on my mind lately soooo this one’s for my slushy girls 💐 PRETTY FLUFFY (but i hope it’s not like … cringy instead of cute)

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you’re both fully in pajamas, tucked and wrapped in each other’s arms when you come across the tiktok trend that has flooded your for you page as of late

hamzah’s naturally aloof (due to a long day spent with you and it currently being almost 1 AM) and unfocused as he fights sleep while watching his tenth episode of teen titans.

so when you quickly unravel yourself from him and move across the room, adjusting your low hanging sweatpants accordingly, he’s dumbfounded and asking you what you’re doing and why you’re leaving him.

“you’re so dramatic, can you come here? i wanna do something”

“insulting me and asking a favor in the same sentence…” he sighs then pauses with a hand closed over his mouth, muffling “wow.”

literally and metaphorically tugging his arm to get him to participate but he’s adamant on knowing what exactly he’s getting up for

when he’s almost out of bed you tell him it’s “this tiktok thing” and he exaggerates a “NOOOO” and releases all of his weight so that he falls back on the bed and you practically fall with him due to your connected hands

of course he’s eventually convinced with a few kisses

hamzah fiddles with your hand while listening to you explain: “okay, pretend im not here and some girl comes up to you at target.”

he just stands in the center of the frame looking around the room as you walk away then return in character

you approach obnoxiously and begin some surface level flirting “hey good looking”

“you can back up a little bit,” he looks you up and down

“pause- did you just check her out???”

“no? you know there was definitely some judgement there.”

“sure ok, resume… now.” you play with your hair, “what’s someone as cute as you doing in a place like this?”

“bruh, we’re at a target” hamzah laughs through his words

you stop your role again, “and why are you taking time to respond to her?!”

“oh kill me for being distracted! you couldn’t have hired an ugly actress?”

you look up at him with squinted eyes, “you need to learn to resist the hot girls too!”

“i’m tryingggg!!!!” he rubs his eye harshly, “restart, restart.”

it cuts to a clip of you two acting once more

“yeah, we both loooveee target we’re, like, so alike,” you go to grab his arm and he turns completely away from you

“ok, and i have a girlfriend” he pretends to grab something off of a shelf

“that doesn’t matter if i don’t see her…”

you continue pestering so he resorts to plugging his ears with his fingers and talking over you, repeating that he has a girlfriend

eventually he turns back to face you and yells “OH MY GOD GIRL, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!” right into your smiley face.

he then fully manhandles you over his shoulder and spins you around before dropping you onto the plushness of your shared bed

he doesn’t even look to check on you (you’re outrageously laughing and yelling “it hurts!” in regards to your poor stomach cramping)

he runs to grab your phone from the desk while recording himself in faux panic, “guys, you can’t tell y/n i just beat up a woman please, please, pl- AHHH”

he and the video are cut off by you jumping on his back and attacking his cheek with kisses through your loud giggles.

you cuddle in bed again after turning off the lights and hamzah rewatches it for a third time since you’ve posted it to your spam account (everytime it’s over he says, “no, that was actually pretty funny.”)

by the morning it has thousands of likes and plenty of comments either full of love for the two of you together or calling hamzah the funniest man in the world (they’re just like u fr!)

[pleaktale]

Please please- write a modern reader (spiderperson or not) explaining things like email, memes, and the internet. It is such a fun concept to me that Hobie is clueless on things like ai.

Personally, I see that as an oppurtunity to mess with him.

Anything you want! Drabble, headcannons. Just have fun if this tickles your fancy 🫶

I cackled with this one so much because I thought about all his reactions and that would be PRICELESS. Didn't enter much on the AI thing because we don't fw AI 🙅 Thank you for the request, lovie! Did a bit of both <3

Warnigs: none I guess?

Tags: Hobie x modern!gn!reader, headcanons

Enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Hobie is a guy of techs, that is set in stone. But what does he know about memes? Spotify? What about watching videos in tiny screens?

He went to your world once. Guy was LOST in all the screened outdoors, cars moving by sustainable energy and without tires, the lack of humans in things such as supermarkets and pharmacies a little worrying to him;

Once you taught him how to open the door to your apartment, he asked you to dismantle that thing;

"What do ya mean this.. opens with your DNA!?" he asked with slumping shoulders, watching as you entered the apartment like it was just a normal occurrence. And it was.

Your laugh quieted down his mind a little. "It reads my irises through the capture, I already added yours also," you show him the screen of your phone, his name written in the 'allowed' list.

"When tha' happened!!?" Hobie scratched his head, watching over as you cackled your way to the couch.

Visiting each other's dimension was a regular thing, so seeing the old ass things in his world was kinda funny to you;

Sharing wired headphones with him was like living your great great grandparents lives, and watching his curious mind of a nerd in tech trying to figure out your bluetooth earbuds was perhaps the funniest thing in the world;

The first time he went in contact with the humor of your century, it was like explaining calculus to a toddler. But he got the hang of it;

Hobie is smart, that you can't deny. But watching him get used to touch screens was... curious, to say the least;

The first time you showed something AI-made to him, Hobie was taken aback just like you thought he would;

"Ya mean this hyper realistic video of the Eifell Tower burning until it's metals were curling 'n shit.. isn't real?" Hobie had squinted eyes at you.

"Basically, yeah," you replied with a sigh, "it's a little more in control now, we have tools to see if it's AI made or not, but I honestly wanted this gone."

"Bet a bunch of wankers had taken their shared advantage of that," Hobie sighed too, shaking his head in clear disagreement.

After that he always send you videos asking if they're real or not (you got him a phone so he could use TikTok, now it's like having your grandpa sending you skibidi toilet videos asking 'what the hell's this');

He absolutely loves the MP3 you gave him, it's such a tiny thing and still has all his songs plus your favorite ones, he likes to go patrolling with them;

You showed him spotify once, he called it a "damn trap of capitalism" for making you pay for songs that weren't even physical (he's not wrong though);

The concept of being formal over email didn't clicked to him;

"Write a letter, then!" Hobie pointed at the screen after reading your email you planned on sending over to Miguel.

"But that takes weeks to get somewhere, Hobie," you raised an eyebrow, looking at him while pressing the 'send' button. "See? Gone and in his email, if he's online he'll see it now."

"Online? Yeah, a'ight, whatever." His hands up in mock surrender got another set of laugh out of you.

I could go on for longer but maybe for a pt. 2 😅 I hope you enjoyed! Until next time <3

© pleaktale

[bunnyteetharry]

Boyfriend

summary: pranking Harry with the “calling your husband boyfriend” trend

warnings: none? light spanking, use of brat

pairing: husband!arry x wife!reader

————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆

It was late into the afternoon

You were sprawled on the couch bundled up in your favorite sage blanket with the TV playing on low volume as background noise

You were scrolling mindlessly on TikTok when you came across a video of a women calling her husband boyfriend right in front of him and getting the funniest reaction, you were dying to do this to Harry and what better timing then to do it now that he’s been more at home since taking a mild break from touring and going to the studio here and there when he feels like it

You knew he was in the home library catching up on his tbr stack that you collecting for him whilst he was touring

It was a thing you did for one another

Grabbing books or nicknacks that you knew the other would enjoy

Earlier you asked if he was feeling hungry for anything and you both agreed on ordering in so you made your way towards the room he was in, your idea was to order food in front of him but in actually you’re just going to be on a fake call with the camera facing him

“Baby!” You called out as you entered “Yes m’love” he hummed grabbing his bookmark and placing the book on the side wooden table that was next to him

“Did you want to get Chinese food for dinner tonight?” He smiled and nodded “Yeah that sounds great, did you want me to called them?” shaking your head you pulled out your phone from your pocket “Ill do it you just continuing reading” you smiled widely and plopped down next to him on the small brown crouch with pink flowers printed all around it, you had picked it out together when you passed by a garage sale in your neighborhood

He looked at you suspiciously as he knew you didn’t like making phone calls when it comes to ordering or phone calls in general since it freaked you out but this time he just decide to brush this off and picked up his book

In the middle of your fake order that’s when the prank began

“Yes, and my boyfriend would like to get the same thing except with fried rice for the second side”

Harry paused for a minute, not quite sure he heard you correctly but as he slowly started to register what you had said his eyebrow rose, his jaw was clench and he had a smirk rising up on his face

What was going through his head, you didn’t know, but were you excited to see how this was going to play out? oh defiantly

“Okay perfect, thank you!” You ‘ended’ the call and founded Harry starring blankly at you

“Yes?” You smiled and giggled “Boyfriend huh?” He had this dark look casted over his eyes that made you laugh even more ‘Oh this is funny to you” you covered your mouth as you smiled “I did nothing wrong” he hummed and nodded before placing his book back down and wrapping his hands tightly around your ankles pulling you right to him, it was a small couch so you were dragged immediately to him

You screamed out laughing as he hovered above you, pushing down your arms to your side as he trapped your legs between his thighs to stop you from ever kicking

He flipped you around and you immediately screamed again “No Harry I’m sorry!” he ignored your pleases and continued, roughly he smacked your ass, part of you was happy you had clothes on so the impact didn’t hurt as much but at the same time this man is stronger than you

“You’re a brat” he mumbled sitting back down “It was funny admit it” you crawled onto his lap and positions his face to look at you, he smiled and rolled his eyes, giving you a soft peck

“I’m your husband, understand? Have been for four years, not some fucking boyfriend anymore” he nuzzled his head towards your neck lightly pressing kisses “Mm definitely can’t post this” his head perked up “Post what?” you immediately slid off his lap and ran out of the room

“Nothing!”

a/n: wasn’t feeling it half way but enjoy! also I’m taking request if anyone wants to suggest anything :)

[azzo0]

Mug Cakes

Summary: you and Touya bake mug cakes at one a.m. Pairing: Dabi x reader wc: 1k

You sighed, adjusting your head on the fluffy pillow, trying to get yourself to sleep, which was proving difficult with every ticking second. You came to see your boyfriend, Touya, at his parents' house this afternoon. It was fun seeing him bond with his younger siblings now that he was finally released. It had started raining sometime in the evening, which is why you were spending the night here.

You faced the ceiling with a groan, hoping this position would be easier on your back. Yes, the futons were comfortable, but you weren't used to sleeping on the floor.

"Can't sleep?" Touya asked, his voice low. You turned your body to him with a sheepish smile that answered his question. He hummed, taking a hand out of the blanket and placing it on the floor. Your fingers drifted to his, tracing his fading scars.

"I can't sleep either," he admitted. "It feels weird being here again."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it." You kissed his knuckles.

He smiled that mischievous smile of his, and you knew he was about to say something silly, "I'm craving chocolate mug cakes, actually."

"It's one a.m." You deadpanned.

"Mug cakes are the perfect one a.m. dessert."

You laughed softly, careful to keep your voice low to not wake the others up, "And do you know how to make mug cakes?"

"No, but I do have a recipe saved on my phone," he sat up, kicking the blanket off his body. "You up for it?"

You knew he had zero kitchen experience, but you agreed because it was not every day you got to bake with him, even if it probably meant eating burnt mug cakes.

You guys tiptoed past Natsuo's room, stifling giggles like teenagers, when you heard him snore loudly. You had to shush Touya when he stopped by Shoto's room to slide the door open and snicker at how he slept looking like a log. You pinched his arm and dragged him towards the kitchen.

You got the ingredients ready while Touya scrolled through his saved videos, looking for the mug cake recipe.

"Hm, this should be easy." He cracked his knuckles and opened a cabinet to look for two large mugs.

He began shifting plates and cups around, and you had to remind him to be quiet, "Careful, Touya. You might wake someone up with all that that noise."

He found two large mugs and set them out. You took one mug for yourself and stood beside him to look at the recipe and keep an eye on Touya's measurements because the last time he tried baking cupcakes, he measured the flour wrong, and they ended up looking like clumps of rocks.

You and Touya cracked jokes and suppressed giggles as you combined the ingredients with a fork. He lay on the floor with a hand clapped over his mouth, trying not to let the laughter escape his mouth after you told him about your co-worker falling off a chair in the middle of an important meeting.

You froze, watching tears escape his eyes as he curled into himself, letting out a few snorts. You smiled at the sight, a warm feeling of contentment taking over your insides. You never thought you'd see the day where Touya openly laughed his heart out over something that wasn't even that funny.

"Ah, man, I would'a loved to see his face." He finally stood up with a hand on his stomach, a big smile plastered on his face. He wiped his eyelashes and sighed.

"Didn't know you found people falling off chairs so funny." You grinned with a shake of your head.

"It's the funniest thing ever." He stirred the batter in his mug some more before putting it down and looking at it thoughtfully, "It's missing something."

You looked at the recipe on his phone again, "Nope, we've added all the ingredients."

"How could we forget chocolate chips." He tutted, going towards the snacks cabinet and returning with a pack of Oreos and chocolate chips. He threw a handful of chocolate chips in both your mugs, followed by two Oreo cookies in the centre.

"That's a lot of chocolate." You muttered.

"It's gonna taste so good." He put his mug in the oven and fiddled with the settings.

In the meantime, you washed the measuring cups and forks, not wanting to make a mess for Rei to clean in the morning. You dried your hands and crept behind Touya, who was busy staring at the microwave, his face glowing from the orange light behind the glass. You hugged him, cheek mushed on his back.

He turned around and kissed your eyebrow, resting his head on yours as you guys watched the mug spin in the microwave. He took out the mug when the oven dinged, handing it to you right away. It smelled sweet and divine, making your mouth water. You grabbed a spoon and helped yourself to the mug cake while Toya popped the other mug in the microwave.

"Oh, this is so good," You moaned. He took a spoon and scooped out a giant chunk of your mug cake.

"Touya, no fair!" You gasped, holding your mug away from him.

"Oh, shit, this is good." He reached for your mug again, but you hid it under your shirt.

"Nuh-uh, I'm not giving you more."

"Fine," he chuckled and lowered his face down to yours, dragging his tongue on your lips to pick up crumbs of the cake. "Damn, it tastes good on your lips too."

Your face heated instantly, and Touya barked a laugh at your reaction. You huffed and took out the mug from under your shirt when the oven rang again. Your mug cake was safe now. Not long into your guys' relationship, you had learned to never offer your food to him because he always took giant bites and spoons out of your food.

"You wanna watch a movie in the room while we eat?" You asked.

"Is it going to be another boring space movie?"

"Space movies are not boring, but you can pick."

"Sure, let's go."

You got off the stool and turned to the door, almost jumping when you found Natsuo staring at you guys with betrayal and shock in his eyes as his mouth hung open, "You guys baked mug cakes without me?!"

[twilghtkoo]

have u seen haechan's bubble msgs talking about food, he's so cute 🥺 with that being said, can i make a request for foodie boyfriend haechan? thank u so much 🫶

immediately ran to twt and searched this,,, he's literally the cutest being god i love him so much☹️ THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS AND SHARING ANON <33 i tried my best and i hope u like it ><

pairings. idol!haechan x (f) reader

genre. fluff

warnings. not proofread,, haechan and yn are at his parent's house and it's just a wholesome cute setting at haechan's home ;-;

-

"you're pretty!" haechan's little brother complimented you with the cutest grin, almost matching his older brother's. his height reaching just above your waist line, his head arm's reach for you to softly rub over his grown out bowl cut. he was the youngest in the family, and a complete sweetheart. when you first met haechan's family, you remember him being way smaller. but now he's grown a bit and he's at the end of elementary.

"thank you cutie." you cooed, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. both of you giggling when his face scrunches up when your index finger makes contact with his nose.

"yah, that's my girlfriend." haechan comes from behind you as he playfully pushes away his youngest brother, engulfing you in a tight hug. your hands reaching to place over his forearms.

"no," he giggles. "i like noona more!"

haechan tugs you closer and away from the little boy. "she's mine." he responds, sticking his tongue out. "only i can call her pretty." he tilts his head at him before he smashes his lips against your cheek.

when haechan pulls away from your cheek, he laughs evilly as he playfully glares down at his brother. the little boy makes a 'hmph' sound before turning around and running to the other side of the house.

"your little brother is a cutie." you tell him, haechan's arms around you relaxing as they find a new place on your hips.

he pinches your side, making you jump in his hold before smacking him.

“yeah? well where do you think he gets his skills from.”

"donghyuck-ie, come set the table please."

everyone is set at the table in the living room, haechan and you sitting across from his grandparents, his parents sitting to the left of them, and his siblings sitting to the left of their older brother.

haechan's schedule has calmed down, a few free days and he's decided to take you with him to his hometown since his family has been asking about your next visit to see them, and he of course just misses his family. when you first met his family, you weren't really nervous, due to your boyfriend's job and lifestyle you couldn't just up and leave to go meet them. but you've met them on phone and video calls. haechan's mother was the sweetest and funniest woman you've met, you see where your boyfriend get's his funny personality from. you can still recall when haechan's mom face timed him one day while you both were eating dinner at your place.

"donghyuck? donghyuck-ah where are you?" you hear a woman speaking through his phone. you continue to eat silently as you just stare at your boyfriend answering the call.

"mom, i'm at yn's." before you could spit out your food or swallow it, haechan pans the phone's camera to you.

your eyes practically bulging out your sockets as you stare at haechan who's smirking behind the phone. both your cheeks are puffed out from the mouthful of rice. your cheeks burn red as you face the mother of your boyfriend on the screen.

you shyly wave, covering your mouth with your other hand.

"oh yn, you're so pretty through the screen, even with your mouth full." his mom smiles, softly laughing. haechan putting down his elbow on the table so his arm doesn't get tired, he softly smiles at what his mom said, he breaks his eye contact with you to take a bite of his dinner. not wanting it to get cold.

you swallow your food, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, your son just put the camera on me without letting me chew my food." you apologize, still blushing but not forgetting to shoot a glare at your boyfriend who innocently continues to eat.

"no worries honey. eat well!" you politely thank her before haechan takes his phone back.

"mom, i did good didn't i?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

the call soon ended, her asking her son to come visit with you before bidding both of you goodbye's.

on the table was a bunch of plated food, food that haechan's mother and grandmother had cooked. you remember haechan telling you awhile ago that he grew up eating his grandmother and mother's food and that their home cooked food will forever be his favorite meal to eat. reminiscing the one time you visited for haechan's little brother's birthday party, the second youngest one, his mom and grandmother cooked and prepared everything for his brother's thirteenth birthday. the kimchi stew leaving an impact inside your stomach, it was the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. all the other kimchi stews you've ever tasted being laughed at.

"chili pepper jeon!" haechan gasps next to you, as he shuts his eyes tight, leaning back slowly with his hand over his chest as he wiggles in his seat. you smile at his reaction to seeing his favorite food made by his grandma.

his grandma across the table chuckles at the sight of her grandson, smiling endearingly, thankful that she's able to see her grandson eat.

"noona, do you like pork belly?" the youngest one asks you, he peaks his head from behind haechan.

"i love pork belly." you reply, smiling.

his smile widens as he holds out his chopsticks that has a piece of pork between his small, blue, kid chopsticks.

you gasp lightly, pointing a finger at yourself. "for me?"

he nods, raising his hand in front of haechan who's watching this interaction happen, literally, in front of him.

he thought that having you sit next to him on his right away from his flirty little brothers, they wouldn't try anything with you. but here we are. the littlest one, holding a piece of pork belly in front of his face, to feed you.

you take your chopsticks to grab the piece of meat from his, but he shakes his head and pouts.

"no, no, from here! eat from here!"

"yah," haechan pouts, staring at the younger one.

his grandparents and parents smiling fondly at the scene unfolding in front of them.

before you can reach over to take the bite, haechan beats you to it.

"hyung!" his little brother frowns, turning his head away from him as he continues to eat his food.

"haha," haechan snickers.

rolling your eyes at your childish boyfriend, you reach over behind him and softly pat the little one's back. his posture immediately straightens and his frown is gone.

dinner continues swiftly, casual conversation being shared between you and haechan's mom and grandma. and haechan talking with his dad and grandpa.

"oh! you know how to crochet too?" his grandma asks in excitement.

you eagerly nod, "yes, i can make a few things now but i still mess up here and there, and i get so frustrated having to unthread a patch." you frown just at the thought.

"i know right. back then when donghyuck-ie was little i used to make him blankets and sweaters. i'm sure i have pictures of them somewhere in this house." she tries to recall with her own daughter where those photos could be.

haechan next to you taps your thigh. when you face him he's holding up a spoonful of some pork belly with rice and kimchi, holding it up to your mouth.

you take the spoonful of food in your mouth, humming in contentment from the flavorful taste. as if you're in your own world, you do a little happy dance, something haechan took notice of when you both began dating. you do a little happy dance when the food you're eating is good. your actions make him lean over as he places his soft lips on yours for a quick kiss.

your eyes widen, because he just did that like it was nothing in front of his family. as if it was just you guys at your place or the dorms.

you glance over at his family across from you, who had already caught the scene with their own eyes. but they found it cute seeing their oldest son being care free and happy with his partner. it's a side of donghyuck they've never seen before, but they're glad it's with you.

his little brothers too busy playing around with a perilla leaf to even notice what had happened.

you playfully swat his arm, as you try and hide your reddened cheeks. pretending to take interest in the green onion inside of your bowl of kimchi stew. you don't see how haechan is just cheekily staring at you.

his family around him, his favorite meals sitting on the table and his favorite girl with him. his heart and stomach full.

[ckret2]

Chapter 20 of Human Bill is the Mystery Shack's (secret) prisoner (title tbd), featuring: at last, Wendy discovering the "house guest." And Stan discovering Wendy discovered the house guest. And Bill and Stan having the funniest argument imaginable.

Also featuring: Ford letting Fiddleford in on the secret and asking for his help getting rid of Bill for good.

####

"Hey dudes," Soos said, leaning into the living room. Bill and Mabel looked up from Mabel's phone. "Me and Melody and Ford are heading out for anime night. If you've got an emergency, call me; and if you don't have an emergency, uh... don't. Cuz we're gonna be anime-ing hard."

"Anime night?" Bill repeated. "Why's Stanford going to anime night?"

Soos blinked. "Is... that a trick question?" he asked. "Hey—aren't you not allowed to use phones?"

"He's not using it," Mabel said. "I'm using it. He's just watching a video over my shoulder. I've got him secured for our safety!" Bill demonstratively held up his bloody sock-wrapped hands.

"Oh. Smart thinking," Soos said. He nodded and left.

Bill looked back at the phone, left eye shut and right eye squinted, then pointed at the screen and murmured, "Oh, there—037, 037 is a big winner." Mabel nodded and wrote down "Beach 037" on a piece of paper where she'd been listing scratch card serial numbers.

Soos came back. "Hey," he said, "Bill. Why are your hands bloody."

"Because my eye's bleeding." As he said so, a bright red drop of blood rolled out of his right eye like a tear. He wiped it off his cheek with one hand, adding another stain to the sock.

"Oh. Okay," Soos said. "Why's your eye bleeding."

Mabel helpfully answered, "Because it's hard for him to see into a higher dimension from here."

"Hey." Bill nudged her with an elbow. "That was for your ears. But yes, if you have to know. Human eyeballs are—limited. It causes some some light cranial hemorrhaging." He squinted at the video again. Another bloody tear rolled down his cheek.

Soos stood uncomfortably in the doorway. "Looks... kinda painful."

"Excruciatingly," Bill said casually. Mabel mouthed he's fine at Soos.

Soos said, "Do you... want a headache pill? Or an eyepatch or something?"

"Oh." Bill looked up at Soos in surprise. "Is that an option?"

Soos shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Huh." Bill was momentarily silent, processing this revelation about the medical care options he was permitted. Finally, he said, "No to the pill—I think I'm getting a migraine aura, and I don't want to stop the little white spots before they develop into full hallucinations! I'd hate to miss that light show, you know?"

Soos nodded, as though he did know. He did not, in fact, know.

"But I could use an eyepatch," Bill said.

"You got it. Be right back."

Soos retrieved an unopened costume eyepatch from the spares for his Mr. Mystery outfit, brought it downstairs, and handed it over to Bill's socked hand. "Do you uh—need help getting that on?"

"I'll do it when we're done with the phone," Bill said, and returned to watching the video.

Mabel poked his side. "What do we say?"

"Thanks," Bill said without looking up, followed by, "062." Mabel dutifully copied the number down.

Soos headed out to his pickup, where Melody and Ford were waiting. "Sorry for the delay, guys," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "Bill's eyeball is bleeding from trying to look at a higher dimension, so I had to get him an eyepatch."

In the back seat, Ford frowned and pulled his journal from inside his coat and flipped open to the most recent page. "Which eye?"

"Uh..." Soos held up a hand and turned it as he mentally rotated Bill to figure out which side his bloody eye would be on if it were on Soos's body. "Right. His right."

"Did he happen to mention which dimension he was trying to see?"

"Nuh-uh. He probably won't say either, he was kinda annoyed Mabel told me that much."

Mabel might know, then. Ford could ask her. Probably tomorrow—late tomorrow, after the party.

Melody asked, "He's not gonna need a doctor, is he?"

Soos started the truck. "He seemed really casual about the whole thing, so, I don't think so?"

"That's a relief," Ford muttered.

They started the drive to the former Northwest Manor.

####

When Fiddleford answered the front door and saw Ford, he smiled so wide it made Ford smile too. "Stanford! It's been a month of Sundays since I saw you last!"

"Fiddleford." Ford reached out to take Fiddleford's hand—and got tugged into a one-armed hug. He recovered from his surprise enough to return it. "It's good to see you. You're looking well." Which was to say: still looking aged before his time and running around barefoot and shirtless in his overalls; but a little less sunburned, a little more bathed, and merely "scrawny" rather than "emaciated." Ford figured if the man wanted to run around shirtless in his own lavish 150-year-old mansion, that was his own business. 

"Just like we promised," Melody said, "one Ford dragged to your doorstep."

"Yes!" Soos pumped a fist in the air. "Operation Ford-Ford Reunion: completed! We uh—we didn't actually drag him, though. He was excited to come."

"He oughta be," Fiddleford said. "This'll be just like old times! Back in college, this man showed me all sortsa Japanese movies about big monsters and robots clobberin' each other. It was my first taste of international cinema!" He scratched his beard. "I wonder if that had any kinda impact on me?"

Melody and Soos looked at Ford with new respect. Soos said, "I didn't realize you were such a man of culture."

"All right, enough jibber-jabberin' on my porch!" Fiddleford waved Soos and Melody in. "You youngins go on ahead. Us old timers have to catch up. Tate's in the kitchen rustlin' up some vittles."

"Sweet, movie snacks," Soos said. He turned to Melody. "Wanna take the hidden service tunnel the Northwests used to hide the less pretty servants?"

"Pffft! Is that even a question?"

Soos tapped a foot twice on a square of Venetian parquet flooring just left of the door. A section of floor beneath them dropped down to form a slide, and Soos and Melody plummeted into the dark, squealing and laughing. The floor swung back up.

Fiddleford said, "I sure hope I fixed that tunnel to go to the pantry 'stead of the secret dungeon. Anywho!" He ambled his bow-legged way into the manor, gesturing for Ford to follow him. "We'll take the scenic route."

Ford looked around as he followed Fiddleford. He'd never been allowed in the front way before—the last time he'd visited the Northwest Manor back in the eighties, he'd been told to come in through a side door. It had been a very long walk. The front door opened directly into a great hall large enough to serve as a ballroom, with a staircase at the far end that led up to a fireplace and then forked left and right. A whale statue hung from the ceiling and still seemed dwarfed by the vast room. Ford had taken classes in lecture halls smaller than this. "I'm surprised you're still answering your own door. With all you made selling your inventions, I'd have expected you to hire a butler by now."

"I built me one a few months back," Fiddleford said, "but it kept trying to murder the feller what brings my mail. So I locked it in the coat room until I can figure out what went wrong."

There was a violent thud and scraping against a door near the entrance.

"Don't worry about that. It's reinforced," Fiddleford said. "Now, how long have you been back in town—a couple weeks?"

"Nearly." Had it really been less than two weeks? Somehow that felt both too long and too short. He'd accomplished so little with two weeks at his disposal. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come by. I wanted to as soon as I was back in town. You must think me a terrible friend—"

"Nonsense," Fiddleford said firmly. "I knew you'd come when you could—and here you are, ain'tcha? I reckoned you must've been busy with something."

"Yes," Ford agreed, with a bitter laugh. "More busy than you can imagine."

"Well, there you go! Nothin' to beat yourself up over."

Ford slowed, dropping a few steps behind Fiddleford, feet heavy, feeling like a physical pressure was keeping him from walking forward; and then he stopped. "I'm sorry to say, but that's part of the reason I'm here." He stared at the gap between his boots and Fiddleford's feet, the beautiful hardwood floor and the thin layer of dirt that had settled on it. "Of course, I wanted to visit you too, but... I need your help, Fiddleford."

He'd meant to wait until after the show to bring this up, let Fiddleford enjoy his evening without anxiety—hadn't he learned with Mabel not to try to mix business and socialization?—but now that Ford was here, the bad news threatened to bubble out of him with every breath. He wouldn't be able to enjoy his evening with his dread of the coming conversation weighing down on him. (What right did he have to enjoy the evening, when he knew he was once again about to make his mistakes Fiddleford's problem?) 

But, Ford hadn't had the self-control to keep it to himself for just another few hours—he must have been too tired—excuses, excuses—and now Fiddleford was giving him that look he got when he was fully focused on a conversation, eyes wide and surprised-looking, as if opening them further would let him absorb more of the information he was receiving. "Of course, Stanford. What sort of help?"

Of course, he said. Of course, like Ford didn't have a history of asking for help that ruined people's lives. Either Fiddleford was charitable enough to assume Ford wouldn't inflict the kind of monstrous horrors on him he had thirty years ago, or selfless enough to offer anyway.

Ford swallowed hard. "It's heavy," he warned. "I don't want to ruin the show. Would you rather wait until afterward to discuss it...?" Although Ford doubted Fiddleford would stand for that.

Sure enough, Fiddleford waved off the idea with his bandaged arm. "Don't be silly. Now that you've brought it up, it's gonna give me the heebity-jeebies until I know what's wrong! Anyway, how heavy could it be?" He laughed wryly. "Can't possibly be as bad as that triangle feller, can it?"

Ford didn't know what expression had appeared on his face, but the effect on Fiddleford was instantaneous. His smile vanished; his lined face went as white as his beard. "Is it as bad?"

Ford winced. "Let me explain—"

"It's him." Fiddleford didn't phrase it as a question. "No. It can't— You're lyin'! You're lyin'!" He backed away from Ford as if he was the threat, tripped and tumbled to the floor, and scampered backward on his hands and feet.

And here was the screaming. Age had not dulled Fiddleford's hair-trigger panic response. Ford had hoped to explain it to him gently, ease him into the bad news before revealing who it was, but if all he could do now was damage control... Ford knelt down like he was trying to coax over a frightened cat. "Fiddleford, please—"

One of Fiddleford's legs spasmed, bouncing like a rabbit thumping its foot in warning of predators. "Not him! The beast— The beast with just one—"

"Two eyes," Ford corrected.

And the unexpectedness of the correction momentarily cut straight through Fiddleford's panic. His wild eyes focused on Ford in bafflement. "Say wha?"

"He has two eyes now," Ford said. "And he's powerless and imprisoned. He survived—but he's not a threat." It was a slight exaggeration, but Ford's first priority was calming Fiddleford down. He could introduce nuance once Fiddleford wasn't panicking.

"He's—He's not a—He's—"

"Deep breath," Ford said.

Fiddleford sucked in a deep breath, held it just long enough that Ford was starting to worry, and let it out in a long, deep gush. "Whoo!" He smacked his head with his palm, and then another couple times for good measure. "Sorry 'bout that. Just—got a little excited. Let me catch my..." He took another couple of deep breaths.

Ford waited patiently. "You're better at dealing with alarming news than you used to be." Maybe that wasn't the best praise, considering that Ford had usually been the one delivering the alarming news.

"I'm not sure I am. I think I just get it all out of my system faster." Fiddleford took one last deep breath, and said, "All right. Explain this to me."

Ford gave Fiddleford the rundown on the last two weeks—Bill's arrival, his capture, the stalemate as they realized that neither side could risk Bill's death without knowing what would happen. He explained everything they knew or suspected about Bill's current powers or lack thereof, and how they were containing and neutralizing him further.

He even pulled out his current journal to show Fiddleford Bill's appearance: a few days ago, Ford had gotten a drawing of Bill in the living room watching TV, huddled up against the armrest of the sofa as if he wanted to stay as close to the doorway as possible, one eye squeezed shut, the other glazed with disinterest, the corners of his mouth curled down despondently. Ford had done the quick rough sketch while watching Bill from the kitchen, then retreated to his room to flesh out the details. There was no way Ford was neglecting to properly document the unwelcome phenomenon occurring in his house, but there was doubly no way Ford was giving Bill's ego the pleasure of knowing he was drawing him again. 

Fiddleford cocked a brow. "Bill's a woman?"

"I'm not sure whatever force humanized him was too picky about the sex," Ford said. "For that matter, I'm not sure he's picky about his sex. It's never come up." What kind of genders did Bill's species have? Did they have genders? Ford should ask. (Ford should not ask. He took that idea, stuffed it in a bag, and threw it in a lake.)

"Huh." Fiddleford gave Ford a skeptical look. "Y'all're letting him watch TV?"

"He's threatened to kill himself if he gets too bored," Ford said tiredly. "He knows if we were to completely lock him up, he'd be as good as dead, since we could just keep him there until we find a guaranteed way to kill him. He says he'd sooner die by his own hand in that circumstance, and he's mad enough I think he'd make good on it. So, to maintain the current stalemate, we've agreed on some... limited privileges."

"Including television."

"Honestly? Moving the TV out of the living room just so he couldn't watch it didn't seem worth the trouble. We use that TV too."

Fiddleford grunted; but he offered the journal back to Ford. He offered it held open, and his gaze didn't break from Bill's face until Ford shut it and put it back into his jacket pocket. "So," Fiddleford said. "You said you need help?"

"Yes. At the moment, we're safe from Bill. All we have to do is find a way to destroy both his body and whatever's inside it, whether it's a human soul or an energy being—and use it before he learns we have it and does something drastic."

Fiddleford pressed his lips together, so thin they disappeared behind his whiskers. "Stanford, I want to help any way I can, but none of my killer robots or deadly lasermajigs are designed for incineratin' space demons. I don't rightly know if I can help."

"But you've already helped. You—" Ford hesitated. "You might want to brace yourself for another shock."

Fiddleford wrapped his arms around his chest and laced his hands together behind his back. "Ready!"

"While I was exploring other dimensions, I found a parallel Earth where you—where we..." Ford swallowed his guilt. "Where... things turned out better. Your parallel self helped me perfect my weapon to destroy Bill."

"A parallel..." Fiddleford's gaze briefly went wall-eyed as he processed the implications of the second life-altering revelation of the hour; but he quickly shook himself out of it. "Well, shucks, then this oughta be easy as pie! If I can do it, then so can I! So tell me about this weapon."

Soos appeared at the top of one of the stairs at the end of the great hall. "Hey, dudes! What's the hold up? We're ready to roll!"

"We'll be right there," Ford called, then turned back to Fiddleford. "Perhaps I should show you the blueprints after the show."

They headed for the stairs. Fiddleford gave Ford a cheeky grin. "Stanford Pines, shilly-shallying around watching cartoons when there's work to be done? Now, my memory ain't what it used to be, but that don't sound like the Stanford I recall."

"I've learned the hard way that a strict diet, exercise regimen, and regular meditation alone can't save a human from burning himself out." The image of Bill's eye and Cheshire Cat smile peering out from beneath a dark towel flashed through Ford's mind. He pushed the memory aside. "Now more than ever, I need to make time for a little play." Goodness knows he hadn't made any time in the last couple of weeks, unless that emotionally fraught trip to Portland counted. "Besides, I—don't want to ruin your evening with my problem."

Fiddleford reached up to put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "That sonova cosine ain't your problem; he's ours. All of ours."

"Thank you, Fiddleford." It was exactly what he needed to hear.

At the top of the stairs, Fiddleford hopped in the air, kicked his heels together, and shouted, "Now let's go watch some giant robots commit atrocities against God! YEEHAW!" He tore off down a corridor with Ford chasing close behind.

####

Stan had given Wendy a copy of the Mystery Shack's keys a year ago, back when the only secrets in the shack had been hidden beneath the vending machine. She still had them, and she could still let herself in at any time; she'd just needed an excuse to minimize how much trouble she'd get in if she was caught.

"Sorry, I forgot my ice cream was here and I just came to pick it up" was a much lower offense than "I was sneaking in specifically to find out the thing you were trying to keep me from finding out."

Staking out the shack from the woods was boring work—she would've liked to bring a friend along, but then she really couldn't use the "I was just swinging by to grab my food" excuse—but she could pass the time whittling until she lost light, and after that she had like a billion scary story podcasts to go through.

Friday night was anime night. Around seven, Soos's truck pulled out, with Melody and Ford on board. That was right—she'd seen Ford talking to Soos about joining in on anime night. One less person she had to look out for. Half past ten, the last light in the shack turned out.

Wendy went in.

She automatically avoided the creakiest floor boards as she let herself in the front door, and then crept into the kitchen. She closed her eyes as she groped around in the freezer for the  sorbet she'd left behind so that the light couldn't disrupt her night vision. There. Excuse retrieved. If anyone caught her now, she could wave her dessert in their face and pull the dumb teen routine.

Now what?

All she knew about the shack's latest secret was that it had ripped up Soos's coat, it might be psychic, and it was possibly locked up and shouting mad about it. That didn't give her a lot to go on. The kitchen didn't look much different. Less clutter out on the counters and shelves than usual, but that wasn't evidence of paranormal activity. Maybe Abuelita had gone on a cleaning spree.

She'd start with safer locations and move out from there. If she was caught, where would she get in the least trouble for snooping?

Sorry guys, I just came by to get my sorbet; and then I really needed to use the bathroom, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal if...

She crept out of the kitchen.

Wendy wasn't risking waking anyone by turning on lights; but by the glow of her phone's screen and the living room fish tank, she could see that Abuelita's sofa was missing its cushions. No signs of anything else weird though. She crept down the dark hall, phone pressed to her chest to hide the glow until she'd passed the guest room and Abuelita's room.

Her heart leaped into her throat when she tried to grasp the downstairs toilet's doorknob, but only brushed fabric instead. She held up her phone. They'd replaced the door with a curtain? That was weird, but...

She pulled the curtain aside.

Something sat cross-legged on the closed toilet. One blood-dripping yellow eye stared up at Wendy. 

Wendy screamed.

"Hello to you too," the thing said. "Come in?"

Wendy punched it in the eye and bolted.

She heard it stumble-thud out of the bathroom, call, "Wait, wait—Wendy!" and then laugh, and then mutter, "ow, ow, ow."

Wendy slowed halfway to the exit as what she'd just seen fully registered. That was a human person. Whom she'd socked in the face.

Wendy about-faced. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She  came back and flipped on the bathroom light to check for damage.

The stranger was a heavyset brown-skinned woman with a mass of loose golden curls hanging to her shoulder blades, wearing a baggy yellow hoodie and knee-length skirt—and something about her was familiar, but Wendy couldn't put her finger on what. The stranger shrugged, grinning, and said, "It's not the worst thing to happen to that eyeball today!" She moved an eyepatch over from her left eye to cover the bloody eye Wendy had socked—and that was why Wendy had only seen the one eye in the dark. The eyepatch.

Wow, smooth move, Wendy, punching somebody for having a painful-looking eye condition. She winced. "Sorry. Do you... wanna ice that?" She awkwardly held out her sorbet.

The stranger looked at the pint thoughtfully. "Can I eat it instead?"

"Um. No?" Wendy pulled it back. "Hey—did you call me Wendy? How'd you know my name?"

The stranger shrugged. "What, you work here, don't you? I see you all the time."

So they had met before? Wendy studied the stranger's face, trying to remember where—and then her eyes widened. "Wait—hold on, Toga Lady? No way!"

"Wh—yeah, that's me!" She laughed. "I can't get over how many people recognize me because of that."

"Yeah, everyone in town knows you." She flipped open her phone to show Toga Lady a meme Tambry sent a couple days ago: the picture Wendy had taken of her in the gift shop that spread all over town, currently captioned, "When you're meeting Plato but still wanna look kawaii."

Toga Lady cracked up. "Hey, I love that! Send that to Sh—Mabel, I wanna save that."

"Sure." Did Toga Lady not have a phone? Or maybe just didn't want to hand her number out to a stranger who punched her in the dark. "So... what are you doing here? Are you visiting the Pines?" Wendy vaguely remembered Toga Lady asking about the Pines a few months ago. "Who are you?"

"The name's Goldie," the stranger said. "And I'm... just staying here for a bit. As a house guest." (And, Bill realized, if Wendy asked him any more than that, he was in trouble. He and the Pines had very briefly arranged his cover story: if and when somebody noticed him, he was Goldie Locke and he was staying as a guest. But why was he staying as a guest, where had he come from, how long would he be here... they'd never gotten that far. He'd better think up some boring cover story the Pines wouldn't object to—maybe claim to be one of Abuelita's distant relatives, staying with family between jobs...)

Wendy said, "So, hold on. Are you the big mysterious supernatural phenomenon the Pines have been trying not to talk about?"

Goldie blinked. And then a brilliant, gleeful smile stretched across her face. "Wow, you're a smart one! How did you guess?"

####

To Fiddleford's evident despair, Soos had made good on his threat to put a moratorium on mecha anime. Instead, he played a few episodes of a period drama about a former samurai, desperate to retire from the sword, who kept running into civilians with inconvenient problems that could only be solved with a two-foot steel blade.

In the 1920s, the Northwests had added a private movie palace to their manor so they wouldn't have to watch picture shows with the common folks; and it hadn't take Soos much work to rig up a new projector to play from his laptop. The Northwests had outfitted the theater with armchairs, loveseats, and coffee tables, which had conveyed with the manor. Once the show was over and the snacks were cleared aside, one of the coffee tables made a perfect space for Ford to spread out his blueprints and research notes. While Soos, Melody, and Tate discussed the likelihood that unemployed samurai really used their swords to rescue stuck cats by chopping down tree branches, Ford explained the quantum destabilizer to Fiddleford.

It was a death ray designed to obliterate whatever it hit—whether matter, energy, both, neither, or other. If it hit a human, they'd be crushed into nothing. If it hit something as powerful as Bill, he'd be fatally collapsed into a miniature black hole, taking anything under his influence with him, and then he'd disappear. Not even ashes would be left behind. No matter what Bill was now, this could kill him.

The problem was the fuel, which Ford had obtained from another Fiddleford, who in turn had obtained it in a paradox dimension: an element that was inert when observed and highly radioactive when concealed. Parallel Fiddleford had named it NowUSeeitNowUDontium. But Ford had used up the last of his fuel on a wild shot during Weirdmageddon. And—short of rebuilding that accursed portal and venturing back out into the multiverse—Ford didn't know how to get more.

"Your parallel self helped me make all the modifications to my destabilizer to let it run on Dontium," Ford said. "You know your own mind better than anyone else. Perhaps if you see your parallel self's design modifications, you might be able to deduce the necessary properties of the substance used to fuel it, and we could... find a way to synthesize an artificial substitute, maybe?"

Fiddleford frowned worriedly at the blueprints. "Frankly, I don't know that I do know my own mind," he said. "But... I'll take a look-see at this, see what I can make of it."

"That's all I ask. Thank you, Fiddleford."

"What'll we do if I can't work it out, though?"

He'd already wondered that himself. Making an element was harder than finding one. There was a reason the gold miners outlasted the alchemists. "We'll find another way. Maybe adapt the destabilizer to another fuel source. I initially designed it for portability in anticipation of a fight with a highly mobile, flying opponent. Now that it'll be used for the execution of a captive, portability is less important. Perhaps it could be modified to plug into an external fuel source?"

"It'd have to be ginormous," Fiddleford said dubiously. "What about that infernal-lookin' summoning circle you had us try? Is that still an option?"

"I've considered it, but... there are four members of the zodiac who still don't know Bill's alive—and they're all children. I never learned exactly what the zodiac does, much less whether it would have any effect on Bill as a human, so I don't want to get them involved just to discover that solution doesn't work. The destabilizer will work."

"If'n we can fuel it."

Ford sighed. "We'll call the zodiac 'plan B.'"

####

On the way out, Ford stopped in the door and said, "Oh, Fiddleford—I nearly forgot." He took out a folded paper he'd stowed in his journal's cover and handed it to Fiddleford, grinning.

It was a hand-made card, with a cover that featured a cake and puffy stickers that read, "PARTY!" Inside was a crayon drawing of Stan and Ford holding hands and smiling next to the words, "Come to our 62nd birthday party!!! Saturday, June 15, 1:00 PM, at the Mystery Shack!!! DON'T BE LATE!!!!!"

Wryly, Fiddleford asked, "Did you make this yourself?"

"Mabel helped," Ford admitted. "I almost forgot our birthday entirely until she brought it up this morning."

"Did you? Now I don't feel so bad that I'd plumb forgot myself. Tomorrow—whoo-ee." A hint of anxiety entered his eyes. "Will the party attendees be including...?"

"We're having our party outside. Our 'houseguest' 'Goldie' is not allowed outside."

Fiddleford immediately relaxed. "Then I'll be there, don't you worry! With gifts, too!"

"Then we'll see you tomorrow." As Ford followed Soos down the long driveway toward his truck, he mused to himself that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a birthday party. He didn't think he'd ever invited somebody outside his family to a birthday party and thought they would actually come. Felt good. 

Ford was halfway to the truck when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Tate. Had they ever spoken one-on-one before? "Tate? What can I do—"

Tate took a step too close, and Ford's back immediately went stiff. "Don't think I didn't see those blueprints you were showing my Dad," Tate said. "Now, you listen here, Dr. Pines." He said "doctor" like it was an insult. "Thirty years ago I lost my father thanks to you and your stupid science project, and I just got him back. I ain't keen on losing him again. Is that clear?"

Oh. "I—yes. Perfectly clear. I don't want any trouble. I'm asking for his help to prevent trouble, actually."

Tate drawled, "Oh, yeah? That so? You usually need futuristic laser bazookas to prevent trouble?"

How good a look had Tate gotten at the blueprints? He'd been on the other side of the room. "Tate... listen." Ford took a deep breath. "You've got every reason to distrust me. Thirty years ago, I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I turned my back on your father when he needed help the most—and you, your mother, and he all suffered greatly for it. But whatever happens, I won't turn my back on him again. I promise."

Tate considered that in sullen silence. "Fine," he said. "See you don't. But I've got my eye on you."

He turned back toward the manor, paused, and faced Ford again. "When I came to Gravity Falls, the first place I went was the last address Dad wrote from. The man who answered the door said he never knew no McGucket and he'd never stayed there. I called him a dirty liar, and he chased me off his property with a hammer." He pointed at Ford. "You... You were gone by then, weren'tcha? That was your brother."

Ford's stomach dropped. "That's right. That... Stanley didn't know anything. We were estranged the whole time I knew your father. I didn't even call Fiddleford by name in my journals."

"All these years he told me he never knew my father, I thought he was just too big a coward to own up to what he'd done. When all along I was resentin' an innocent man, while you were..." He trailed off; then set his jaw firmly, squared his shoulders, and said, "Welp. You take responsibility like a man. I hope you act like one, too."

Ford shrugged helplessly. "I've been trying to."

Tate nodded once. "Good to finally meet the real you, Dr. Pines," he said coolly. Then he turned back toward the manor and walked away.

####

Stan was sure he'd heard a scream.

He stared at the ceiling. It was too late for people to be screaming. He didn't wanna get up. He couldn't hear anything now; but then, his hearing aids were out. Which meant the scream must have been really loud.

Grumbling, he sat up, put in his hearing aids, put in his teeth, put on his glasses, put on his slippers, dragged himself upright, and shuffled to the door.

The moment he stepped out, he could hear Bill's voice, chattering from some dark corner of the shack: "I was actually one of Stanford's research assistants! Haha! Yeah, during the earliest portal tests, I got sucked into the psychic plane between reality and dreams—ever heard of the 'mindscape'?—and everyone assumed it killed me! I've actually been haunting the shack like a ghost for the last three decades! It sure is great to be alive again!"

Stan's first thought, still half asleep, was, I don't remember Ford telling me about that part. And his second thought was, Wait. Who's Bill talking to?

Then he heard Wendy's laugh and his blood ran cold. "Aw man, that's insane! What'd you eat? Is there food in the mindscape?"

"I didn't need to eat, sleep, or age! Convenient, huh? Now I look thirty years too young!"

"How'd you keep from getting crazy bored without anyone to talk to?"

"I watched TV over Stanley's shoulder and eavesdropped on tourists' marital problems! I saw you all summer—"

Stan followed their voices to the living room and fumbled on the light switch. Wendy started and cringed back into the armchair she'd claimed, squinting in the bright light. Bill, who'd been standing in the dark like a creep, didn't flinch—but he slowly stood a little straighter.

"What the heck's going on in here?" Stan snapped.

"Hey, Mr. Pines," Wendy said weakly. "Sorry—I forgot my ice cream when I left," she held up a pint, "so I came back for it and... um..."

"I spooked her in the dark and she socked me!" Bill laughed.

Stan moved between Wendy and Bill. "She's got the right idea." As Stan moved further into the room, Bill circled him to get closer to the doorway.

"But—I mean, is Goldie all you were keeping secret?" Wendy asked. "I worked here all last summer. I know what this place is like! You know I can handle learning that some woman's been stuck in a parallel plane—right?"

Before Stan had a chance to say anything, Bill piped up again: "They're all just worried about the thirty-year-old missing person case they could have helped solve! But hey, I don't mind. I'm sure the only reason they didn't try to find me was because Ford thought I was dead and Stan didn't know about me." Bill looked straight in Stan's eyes. "Isn't that right?"

Oh, Bill had them all over a barrel now.

A good two-man con was a lot like good improv theater, in that neither actor could contradict the other one's story; once one of them introduced a detail, the other one had to agree "yes, and—" and roll with it. No matter how stupid or insane your partner's contribution, if you start arguing about your story in front of your mark, they'll know you're lying—and there goes your mark.

Stan knew that. Bill knew Stan knew that.

And Bill had gotten to Wendy first. Now, unless Stan wanted to completely spill the triangular beans to Wendy, he had no choice but to play along and "yes, and" Bill's stupid story about being Ford's assistant.

Fine. But no way was Stan playing along on Bill's terms.

Stan scoffed loudly. "Or maybe the reason my brother didn't try to find you is because you're a no-good lying creep who"—(what do nerds hate each other for?)—"tried to steal his research!"

From the corner of his eye, Stan could see Wendy's eyebrows shoot up and her mouth open slightly. Yeah, good. Yes-and that, Cipher.

Stan expected anger. There wasn't anger. The ghost of a smile flickered across Bill's face before he got his expression under control. There was a spark of light in his eye, like something sleeping in him had activated.

In the split second between Bill's lips parting and the first syllable emerging, Stan realized—a moment too late—that he'd made a terrible mistake. Bill wasn't just a con artist. He was one of those guys. The guys who got into crime because they couldn't get into theater. The divas. The attention hogs. The guys who enjoyed lying for the thrill of it.

And Stan had just given him an opportunity for drama.

"Steal it?" Bill snapped. "Steal it?" He raised a hand and pointed a thumb at himself, elbow jutted out to the side, chest puffed up, making himself bigger. "I am his research! Over half the stuff he put in his journals comes from material I dug up for him! By his third journal, he was practically my ghostwriter! But do you think I was gonna get a co-author credit?"

"Oh, that's a load of bull—slander," Stan snapped. "I am not letting you talk about my brother like that! He did all the hard work while you, what—" what fit the story they were inventing, "—picked up books for him at the library like a good little undergrad—?"

"Hey!" Bill turned sideways to jab a finger at Stan, like a fencer making his profile narrower before driving his sabre home. "Post grad! I was working on my dissertation! And I didn't just 'pick them up'; I found the books he needed, usually because I'd already read them and he hadn't!"

"Oh, you read a few books! Oooh, I'm so impressed! But you're not the one who wrote about them, sister!"

"HA! The hundreds of pages of notes I gave him say otherwise! So what if I wanted to publish first while he was hoarding the fruits of my labor in his basement, it was my right—!"

Stan bellowed, "That kind of talk is why you got dismissed from your dissertation program for plagiarism!"

All righteous indignation, Bill raised his voice to match, "The plagiarism charges were unproven! I dropped out on my own terms!"

"Oh SUUURE, because you wanted to see the WOOORLD! And how much of the world did you see hiding in a podunk logging town doing my brother's primary research for him, huh?!"

"HA!" Voice nearly a shriek, finger raised to the heavens in triumph, Bill crowed, "SO YOU ADMIT I DID ALL THE PRIMARY RESEARCH—!"

Ford said, "What the devil is going on here?"

Stan and Bill fell silent. Ford stood in the entryway, looking one part irate and two parts bewildered. The front door was still open, Soos and Melody peering around Ford.

Ford could doom them. Stan knew how to improv like a con artist, Bill knew how to improv like a con artist, but did Ford? Ever since they'd been kids, he'd always been just a little slower with a lie. If Stan had a chance to ease him into the backstory they'd concocted without requiring him to improvise himself—hey, we were just explaining to Wendy how 'Goldie' used to be your research assistant until 'she' got eaten by a portal test—

"STANFORD," Bill snapped. Stan almost jumped out of his skin. Oh no. Bill glared at Ford, pointed at Stan, and said, "Tell Stanley the plagiarism charges were unfounded, I was unfairly accused!"

Stan held his breath.

Ford stared at Bill, and then stared at Stan—Stan could almost see the gears turning in his head—and then stared at Wendy, and then stared at Bill again. And then he snarled, "After you tried to beat me to publication, you two-faced liar?"

"HA!" Stan pointed at Bill's face, laughing too hard to speak. "HAAA!" He pounded on the TV, half hysterical with mirth, and had to lean on it as he wheezed for breath. Ford—what a dark horse, Stan could kiss his cheek—Ford was maintaining the most stoic poker face Stan had ever seen. 

Bill was violently biting his lip, red in the face, brows drawn tight together, trembling all over. It took Stan a moment to realize Bill wasn't angry. He was battling hard to look furious—playing the part of the loser of the argument—when the creep was actually fighting not to laugh.

Bill made eye contact with Stan, very nearly lost it, and turned his back toward Wendy so she couldn't see his face. He gestured vaguely toward Stan and Ford and croaked, "You see what I have to put up with?"

"I dunno, man." Grinning, Wendy said, "Not to make light of the whole 'stuck haunting the shack for thirty years' thing, but it kiiinda sounds like you had it coming."

Mission accomplished. And let that teach Bill a lesson about trying to out-lie Stan Pines.

Soos waved a hand. "Hey, uh, what's going on—?"

Now that was a disaster waiting to happen. "I'll catch you up." Stan zoomed around Ford, scooped his arms around Soos's and Melody's shoulders, and hustled them out of the room.

####

"You're sure you want to bike home alone this late?" Ford was walking Wendy back to where she said she'd left her bike, just outside the clearing the Mystery Shack made in the forest. "I could give you a ride."

"Thanks, Mr. Pines, but I'm fine. This whole part of the forest is basically my backyard."

"If you insist." He supposed the Corduroy cabin wasn't that far off—the local kids probably ventured further on a regular basis. They just didn't usually drop by the Mystery Shack at this hour. "What were you doing visiting the shack, anyway?"

"I came back to get my ice cream," Wendy said, holding up her sorbet pint demonstratively. "Which... is probably completely melted by now." She shrugged, popped off the lid and drank it.

She came by this late for ice cream? Ford had his doubts. But then, if he'd been a sixteen-year-old with a summer job in a house keeping a supernatural secret, would he have done any differently? (He was just glad she hadn't worked out who their "guest" really was. He'd have to thank Stan later for his quick thinking with a cover story.)

Wendy picked up her bike and hit her helmet against a tree to dislodge any bugs that might have crawled in. "Hey, uh—please don't tell my dad I was over here, okay? I kinda didn't mention that I was going out."

Wendy was Boyish Dan's kid, wasn't she? How different they were. The Dan that Ford knew hadn't been much older than Wendy, but he'd regarded these woods with a respect that bordered on fear. He'd never be wandering around this late at night. "I can't imagine why I'd need to bring it up." Ford had snuck out for dumber reasons as a kid.

"Thanks, Mr. Pines." She put on her helmet and got on her bike. "I'll see you in the morning!"

"The morning? The party isn't until one, is it?"

"Yeah, but I'm running an errand with Mabel." Wendy waved as she left. In the dark, her arm blended in with the trees.

Ford hadn't heard Mabel mention any errands. What was she doing that she needed Wendy's help for?

Ford waited until he couldn't hear Wendy's bike anymore; and then headed back into the shack.

####

(Y'all have no idea how long I've been waiting to post that argument. If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought! I need comments to survive. Like tinkerbell. Thanks!!)

[sacharinee]

peter moments part three!

pairing: peter parker x reader

w/c: 1918

a/n: hi i hope u guys r having a great new year so far :) i kept this in the drafts for weeks and im throwing it out here now. school is back up so im sad again but i hope u guys r all well <3 enjoy!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you not knowing your own boyfriend is new york’s friendly neighborhood spider-man has to be the funniest thing ever to peter. 

it started sophomore year when you and peter had teensy crushes on each other. you and he often had study dates at one another’s. however, this usually ended up with you falling asleep halfway and him having to pull an all-nighter to teach you the topics of your exam.

peter is hard at work at your desk, preparing for the calc midterm you two had the next day. while you were supposed to be studying, you found comfort on your bed, watching youtube videos of crazy spider boy sightings in queens instead. it wasn’t your fault anyways; the viral footage of the superhero is all that everyone’s talking about recently.

“pete,” you called out. he doesn’t budge when you call his name, still scribbling math formulas you don’t even want to attempt to understand. 

“peterrr,” you singsonged. he drops his pencil and sniffles, turning your swivel chair around to face you, “what’s up?”

“y-yea i’m fine” he answers with a reassuring smile. you don’t know what it is about him recently but you can tell something is off with him; he’s leaving school early, arriving late, and completely exhausted for your study nights, and he seems to be on edge whenever you’re around.

you usually berated him, advising him to take some of the load off and spend some more time for himself, even supporting his decision in quitting band. although, you think your guidance has something to do with your feelings of loneliness and detachment away from peter. 

“okayyy,” you draw out unconvinced, “well, have you seen that new clip of the weird spider thingy? it’s crazy! look at it,” you shove your phone in his face. you don’t notice the way he smiles at you in secret, peter thinks it’s adorable how excited and easily distracted you get. but he knows it's going to be the death of him when you call at 3 am asking him to explain the concept of derivatives for your shared calc exam. 

he’s hesitant to look away from your face. you’re in such awe when you stare with wide eyes and mouth agape at your screen, he thinks you’re the prettiest.

when his attention does fall on your phone, he’s quick to realize what clip of his alter ego is playing and abruptly grabs the device, shutting it off. “hey! what are y-” “you know that’s all fake right? it’s all done on a computer?” “what? no, it’s not. look at him!” 

“i’m looking and it seems like it’s all cgi to me.” peter’s doing anything he can to deter you in the wrong direction, anything he can grasp. 

“well cgi or not, i think he’s so hot,” you defend. “i mean, can you believe it? with his bare hands! how much does that car weigh? has to be like a few thousand pounds, right? and the speed it's going at? oh my god, he’s so strong.” you gush.

you miss the way peter’s face glows like fire. he’s red, really red. all blushing and trying to control his breathing. you think he’s hot? him? and strong too? 

it’s times like these when peter struggles to compose himself and resists telling you the truth. he takes a deep breath, pinches his nose bridges, and opens his mouth, “actually, y/n/n, um”

you cut him off, grabbing your phone back, “it’s so crazy. i heard he’s out every night fighting bad guys and everything. i hope he has someone taking care of him too.”

peter stands there, mouth open, unsure of what to do next. he realizes you’re right, telling you would be selfish, and he can’t risk putting you in danger. 

he purses his lips in disappointment and looks back at you. you’re in your previous position, laying down with one leg over the other while you hold your phone close up watching spider-man do backflips for new york citizens. you don’t have a single care in the world. and peter would like to keep it that way. 

so he bites his tongue and goes back to studying.

—

a few days later, you and peter arrive back to your room after school. 

“thanks for staying up all night with me the other day. i really didn’t know what was going on calc,” you graciously thank him. peter was running on a two-hour power nap before he took that midterm with you, but it was worth it when you came rushing to him, squealing with excitement. you tackled him with a big hug, showing him your exam with a b- written in red marker proudly.  

“of course,” he blushes. peter always makes time for you, even if it gets too inconvenient for him. 

he makes his way into your room dropping his bag by your door and walks over to your bed to rest, “i’m really proud of you, you know? that test was hard and ms. warren didn’t even curve-” peter stops dead in his tracks when he sees what’s laying on your bed. 

a miniature spider-man plush decorates your comfy mattress. 

“what’s wrong?” you come up behind him. you cleaned your room this morning knowing you and peter would be hanging out later on so it shouldn’t be too messy. 

peter laughs, “you uh, you sleep with that thing?” pointing to your beloved plush. you quickly grab it in its defense, “yea, so what?” you have an adorably angry look on your face which peter knows all too well.

he smiles at you, “n-nothing. it’s cute.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

it only got worse as time went on. 

you rush through harry’s front door; his lavish loft that his father bought for him to keep the two of them separated, was often used for your friend group to hang out at. your friends, harry, mj, ned, betty, and peter were all waiting for you to arrive, and you were running late due to an unexpected emergency stop. 

“oh my god, finally. we’re starving, where were you?” ned groans. you might’ve kept them waiting with the pizza you promised to bring. peter quickly stands up from the couch and walks towards you, grabbing the large boxes from your hands. he spares you a sweet smile with a kiss on the cheek and whispers a soft greeting to you.

now that peter had the courage to properly ask you to be his girlfriend a couple of months ago, you would think he has the guts to tell you the truth. however, he always decided against it, opting to keep spider-man under the radar when it came to you. it certainly got more difficult when he’d come to your place with a limp and sweaty hair all while you would ask countless questions asking if he was feeling okay or if he ate earlier that day. you’re just a curious person by nature.

“i know, i’m sorry i’m late, buuut…” you leave a dramatic pause. “i was out getting these!”

your friends watch you stumble taking your shoes off and holding it in front of them. all you receive are blank stares and confused faces in return. 

mj’s the first to speak up, “crocs?”

“no, not the crocs,” you walk up closer with your shoes on display, “the spider-man jibbits!” 

your squealing captures peter’s attention when he drops the pizza boxes off on the kitchen counter.

“wait- that’s why you came late? to buy your little jibbits?” harry remarks. “they’re not just any other jibbits, harry, they’re spider-” “yea spider-man, i know.”

ned piques “h-hold on, you do know that-” peter rushes behind you, shaking his head, waving his hands frantically, urging his best friend to shut up silently. 

“that uh, peter is… and he, uhm i-” ned visibly gulps, “i have to use the bathroom.” he hurriedly runs off to what you assume is the restroom and you look at your friends and peter weirdly.

“what’s his problem?” you throw your shoes by the front door and wash your hands, grabbing a plate to put a slice of pizza on top. peter stands there, wide-eyed with flushed cheeks and chest heaving, a tell-tale sign he’s nervous or stressed. everyone on the couch stares back at peter while he stares at wherever ned ran off to. 

you offer him your slice of pizza, “are you okay?” while nodding his head peter gulps too, “mhm.” he gives you an awkward smile and grabs his pizza from you as you take the back of your hand placing it against his neck and then on his forehead. “you’re getting kinda warm, pete. you should drink some more water. i’ll get it for you.”

you go back into the kitchen, fetching him a glass of water while he sits back down on the couch beside his friends. 

“she doesn’t know yet?” mj whispers. “how does she not know?” “even i know you’re spider-man, and that’s saying something” betty teases. 

“it’s,” peter sighs, “it’s complicated.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

at this point, your friends began to bet how much longer it would take for you to catch on. they even love fueling your obsession with spider-man, sending tiktoks, edits, and new footage of the superhero. 

it’s a few days after christmas and you and your friends found themselves lounging at harry’s sitting together near the christmas tree. 

“okay y/n,” harry sets his gift in front of you, “your turn.”

this year, you and your friends decided on doing a fun secret santa for each other. you were sad in finding out that you and peter didn’t receive each other, but that didn’t stop you guys from getting personalized gifts for one another. you and your boyfriend are fully clad in matching pj's with santa hats on top of your heads.

“hmmm” you ponder. “is it… keys to a new car? orrr a new phone? ooh! or the new louboutin shoes they released last week?” you hold your present close to you and tap against it while a million ideas rush through your head. harry’s dad is rich; your imagination is unlimited. you once saw harry gift a laptop once for a guy he barely knew. 

“it’s even better.”

you hum in response, carefully digging out the tissue to pull out his mysterious gift. your fingers feel something soft, and you slowly lift it out of the bag. 

“oh my god! no way!” his gift leaves you gasping and jumping in your seat. you hold out your christmas present out in front of you. 

everyone stares at you in puzzlement, “socks?” mj questions.

“only the best socks ever!” you squeal enthusiastically. peter looks at harry dumbfounded, only to find him mischievously smirking back at him. “i’ve gotta go put these on,” you run away excitedly with your gift like a little kid. peter shakes his head in disapproval towards him, your friends giggling at harry’s antics. 

“you better tell her soon man, or someone might think she’s spider-man’s girlfriend, instead.”

“n-no! are you kidding? she can’t know, she’d freak-"

moments later you come back out squealing, showing off your clad feet completely decked out in your brand new spider-man socks. 

[amsgrey]

I judt found this draft/idea thing in my drafts from over two years ago (written before Little Sister Hugs) and i genuinely cracked up so much rereading it bc it would be really funny.

would anyone be interested in this?

Jay and hailey are busy with a case involving drug trafficking with military dudes or smth

you and will go out for dinner bc you get like n A+ in science or some shit and Will is all proud older brother

you get a call from Jay that the case is ramping up so he wont be home tonight and then ur like lit ill stay at wills i just gotta grab some stuff

you and will walk in and the house is like a mess and your like uh wtf

and will is like ok let me call jay or the cops or whatever

before he can he gets like smacked from behind like all those stupid movies

ur like o shit what the actual fuck

these big old dudes are in all black and holding like riffles bc intimidating and ur like :o

and ur standing in the kitchen so you do that really funny grab for the closest weapon and its like a pan that was waiting to dry or something entirely useless

theyre like yeah ok sure put it down u dimwit

u like stand over will being like feck off my brothers a cop

theyre like ha lol yeah we know we tryna find him where he at

ur like ha what i dont know? wouldn't have a clue

and theyre like ok then u come with us and ur like uh no sir

omg what if they chloroformed them that would be the funniest trope ever

jay is like workin the case being all undercover n shit and then he gets a call and its wills phone and hes like oh what did y/n do

will is like silent

jay is like yo whats up u alg

OR WHAT IF ITS LIKE WHAT THEY DID TO SAY WHERE THEY JUST SEND LIKE A SUPER FUCKING ANGSTY SHIT QUALITY VIDEO OF THEM LIKE BEATING WILL WHICH IS SUPER FUCKING NOT FUNNY BUT IS FUNNY TO IMAGINE THE UNO REVERSE FOR JAY

Jay immediately looses his mind and tries calling u like wheres will tf

obvi u dont answer and hes like this aint right

the team go to jays house and its all like torn apart but nothign like bad?

they call in the lab and the labs were like oh hey there's blood but they cleaned it? or smth

jay is spiralling and then they get anoter video of u? idk something else angsty

theyre like release our dude and give us back all the idk like guns and shit and voight is like ok well no way they let us do that

jay almost going cowboy cop

everyones like well this is great

you are like locked up by zipties bc criminals are stupid and you manage to like breakfree like a real mvp

u like find a gun or smth bc thats fun and free will

your all like well theres enough warehouses n creepy buildings in chicago for u to be anywhere so tf where we at

wills all leave me bc thats a funny trope and ur like shut the fuck up u dumbass

some military dude comes round the corner with his gun and sees u tryna walk with dead weight will and hes like? what are-

you shoot him bc badass bitch

he like fall down is all bloody and ur like o shit i just killed a man

will is like ya we gotta go ok like this shit serious fam

you walk around a corner and they all be sitting around in the big room and u and will are like oh hi guys

they all like point guns and ur like ah man we dead

but then!! intellegence is all out ur guns on the ground now! police things!

one of them like aims his gun but someone shoots his gUN bc i think thats the badassest thing ever and then he like has a bleeding hand and grabs u and knife to the throat thing bc trope central over here

no one has a clean shot so they all like omg dude let her go

do u get like seriously hurt? lowkey imagine like them dying and jay and will being like a mess ok thats way too dark but i like?

you either

die

get seriously maimed like idk loose a limb or smth idk

or ur unharmed and are like omg how am i not even bruised tf is this

depends on the level of angst idk

if anyone wants to ready this lmk i might actually write it

[iamacultest]

A peacock:

(part one of the Aventio Stelleron Hunter AU thing) Also PLATONIC FIRASHA

“Who is this Kafka?” She looked over to the doorway from what appeared to be a desk before getting up.

Kafka slightly pushed the Avgin towards Firefly. Giving her a look that Kakavasha couldn't quite understand the meaning of. “Firefly this Kakavahsa. Kakavasha, this is Firefly.” Hearing his name felt off after so long. Those people saw no use in referring to something inhuman by name. Whatever Kafka saw in him was much better than an item to be used. At least from what he could gather. The blonde turned around to face Kafka, only to find that she was halfway through the door, smiling gleefully. “He’ll be staying with you until we move again. Do me a favor and play nice.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Before Firefly could ask Kafka about something, the woman was gone. Silence came over the duo for a few moments before Firefly spoke to fill the void.

"Sorry, I’m not good at this type of stuff. Here..” She pointed to her bed. “You can lay down if you want." He seemed rather hesitant to do so, but he couldn't not do it. Tiptoeing his way to the mattress, and hoisted his way up. He seemed suprised by the soft texture of everything. Anxiously looking around to check if this was safe. Firefly chuckled."Are you hungry? I'm sure we have something to snack on until dinner." Kakavasha looked at the girl with surprise before neutralizing his expression. His eyes came down to eye his fists. Gripping at the shirt Kafka had given him. Pondering something. "Are you sure?" ~~~~

Before Firefly could announce her return, she noticed her blankets had been moved around. They were all bunched up and resembled a nest. However, the funniest thing was that Kakavasha had been completely buried. Funnily enough, he looked rather complacent. She couldn't help laughing at the sight. It was then that Kakavasha seemed to notice the girl's presence. At first, he looked scared, as if he had done something wrong. Watching her to see if she would attack. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” She smiled before slightly raising her hands to show the fruits of her labor.

“I brought back snacks.” hoisted herself up on the bed before setting the food down. At first, he thought this was a trick, but he had to eat at some point. Cautiously, he met the girl's gaze. “It's…okay.” He glanced at her carefully from his self-made nest of blankets.

For a moment she was taken aback from the sudden input. The voice sounded a bit raspy. “I didnt know what you liked so I grabbed a whole bunch of stuff.” Firefly smiled.“Do you want to try them?” She gestured the bag of snacks towards him, waiting for him to take them.

Slowly a bag was taken. The Sigoninan held the bag close, examining it before attempting to open it. He was struggling. She couldn't help but giggle. It reminded Firefly of when Kafka first found her. “Here, give it to me.” The look Kakavasha gave her was one of disappointment. “Don't worry, I’ll give it back.” The Avgin hestitanly gave the girl the bag. As promised, she swiftly tore the bag open.

“Here.”

He looked at her before mumbling a thanks before munching on his pretzels.

She grabbed her phone and put a video on. The blonde continued to eat his pretzels while watching the video play.

“What is that?”

“Oh, it's an old tape from the Clockie and Friends collection. The phone,” she pointed to the phone Kafka had gotten her.”picks up the signal from the broadcast in a place called Penacony, and since my phone picks up on it, we get to see the signals play out. If that makes sense.”

He did not compute any of the words she just said.

Earlier, she hadn't been able to get a good look at the boy. He really was a Sigonian. Golden hair that reminded her of the flames SAM would emit during battle. His eyes were an enchanting purple with turquoise around his pupil. It made him look like a character from a novel. The shirt was probably one of Blade’s due to its size. His wrists looked bruised, infact, his entire body was covered with bruises and scars. Whatever he had been through before Kafka had seen him must have been terrible…

“I’ve heard it's rude to stare.” The words themselves sounded so bitter. Coming from a place of hurt.

“Oh, I'm sorry! It's just that the color of your eyes reminds me of peacocks.” Before the former slave could ask, “what?”She took her phone, much to the dismay of the boy. She looked up an image of a peacock as an example. “This.”

The boy's eyes sparkled with an amusement that could be found in a child.

“I look like that?”

“Yea! At least to me, you do.”

He scoffed, but this time it was not out of spite. "Is that a compliment?"

[webslingingslasher]

Could you write something with tom where reader is on her period and she's incredibly annoyed by anything, and tom thinks it's the funniest thing ever because you look adorable when you are mad and he can't take you seriously?

im so sorry bestie i have such a hard time writing tom and IDK WHY

Does Tom have to listen to his phone at full volume? 

You assume he has no special awareness, you were able to let him slide by while playing on his phone during the movie, you’ve seen it a hundred times and you’d rather have him next to you doing his own thing than in another room or out with his friends. However, playing videos at max volume was not okay, you couldn’t believe you had to point out that the movie playing should be louder than a cellphone. 

A stab is hit in your uterus, everything hurts and your boyfriend has no concept of shutting the fuck up. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. Is the movie too loud? Do you want me to turn it down so we can watch soccer highlights?” 

Tom looks up from his phone, his cheeks lit with the phone screen, he blinks. “Huh? No, the movie is fine, baby.” 

You huff, “I’m so glad you think so, I can’t even hear it.” 

Tom just clicks the volume on his phone down by three, a smirk settling at your aggression. 

—--------------------------

You stomp through the house to find the culprit, he’s just around the corner. 

You make eye contact, he looks scared, good. 

“How dare you!” Your finger is pointed right at Tom, his hands held up in a surrender. 

“How dare you! You know how much I was looking forward to a hot shower and you used up all the hot water!” 

You’re pissed and rightfully so. You’d been preparing for a long steamy shower to help alleviate cramps but he slid in right before you and took all the hot water you planned to steal. 

Tom however, finds your furrowed brow and pathetic stomp adorable. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Give it ten minutes, I bet it’ll be back to steamy.” 

You pout, he wants to kiss it off your face. 

“But I wanted one now!” 

Tom gives a sympathetic frown, “how’s it feel to want?” 

He leans away laughing when you try and swat at his arms.

—---------------------------------------

Tom has to be doing this on purpose. 

He gets a kick out of it, he has to, there’s no other explanation. 

Tom is quite literally, crunching chips and smacking his lips as loud as humanly possible. It’s hard to miss, he’s less than six inches away from you in bed. You rub at your temples, “honey, do you have to chew so obnoxiously?” 

“Oh, was I? I’m sorry.” 

It was quick, almost admissible to the human eye. 

Just a tease of a smirk, he knows what he’s doing. 

“You like this, don’t you? Getting a rise out of me?” 

“Now why would you say that?” 

You glare at him, “it took me a minute, but it makes sense. You like seeing me mad.” 

Tom shrugs, “it’s cute. You get this little wrinkle in the middle of your eyebrows and you pinch your nose like a bunny.” 

“Oh, so while I’m bleeding out you’re making my time worse?” 

Tom holds up a finger to correct you, “I’m making my time dealing with you better.” 

This time he can’t dodge the hand that slaps his arm. 

[yongislong]

tiktok prank + 127.

genre: illichil tries to open a jar that you glued shut! lol! fluff, crack, humor, nonidol!127 but its not specified, i hope my humor comes across through this...

cw/note: none but lmk! omg this request was so fun to do, ty anon and sorry it took so long! i've never done like... a typical reaction type of writing style before so it was kinda funny, these are a lot shorter than what i usually write, but yeah! send reqs if you have them! i will always get to them even if it takes me a minute. lmk if you want dreamies or wayv version! not proofread lol

taeil... i can't get it off. depends on the day actually, but i feel like he'd kinda give up LMAO. would be like mf i cant open it :-| or would probably get some pink rubber gloves to try and pull it off and it looks SO ridiculous that you have to break it to him that you glued it shut because you're convinced he's gonna break his hand before he even opens it. he is embarrassed LMFAO

johnny... there you go babe! the biggest dorkiest, most annoying smile on his face because he genuinely didn't notice anything different about the jar and you are... shell shocked. once you tell him you glued it shut his eyes almost pop out of his head because he actually didn't realize he was that strong... it kinda makes your head spin how innocent and cute he is about it, he knows how hot it was though

taeyong... GAHHHH. grunting loud as hell as he's gripping and twisting that thing for DEAR LIFE oh my god. his mom cooks so i'm sure he has some tips and tricks up his sleeve that'd he'd try and oh, oh boy, would he try all of them. eventually you have to tell him to stop after he lays down on the floor with various can openers, towels, rubber grippers, etc scattered all over the place, trying to catch his breath

yuta... silent smirk. he would struggle for a couple tries but gets a grip on it that pops it open. your eyes pop out of your head and you stumble over your words as he wordlessly smirks and hands you the jar back with a kiss to your temple. you chase after him and tell him the jar was glued shut and he literally won't stop flexing. would take this to the grave. when you watch superhero movies he always refers back to this moment and how he could beat them in any fight because cmon, he's the yuta nakamoto

doyoung... what the fuck. incoherent mumbles. is too prideful to give up and you almost want to not tell him simply because you just wanna let his stubbornness take over, its the funniest thing. he's sitting on the couch, laptop and phone open, both playing different videos on how to open jars that are too tight. eventually gets it open and it so cocky about it, he's pretty though so you allow his smile to get wider once you tell him you glued it shut

jaehyun... huffing an puffing. literally breathing so hard, you know he's strong so you're honestly shocked its so hard for him. he puffs out his cheeks as he presses his lips into a thin line, looking like that smiling bread meme lol. his dimples poke out sm. he eventually gets it open with a loud pop, pats you on the shoulder and asks you to never ask him to do anything for you again LMAO. you tell him the jar was actually glued shut and he feels a lot better about himself pft

jungwoo... confusion. would asses the situation LMFAO. literally so shocked like damn, what the fuck is this. asks you to forget whatever you were cooking because at this point its not worth it. flips and rotates the jar a thousand times to understand how something could be shut this tight. is convinced its a manufacturing error jdsjk. you tell him its glued shut and gets so ??? because damn it was a prank that backfired on you as well now and you have to eat buttered noodles for dinner!

mark... WOAH dude. shocked pikachu face. tries to open it through giggles but to be honest he gives me sweaty hand energy and he's so annoyed that the jar keeps slipping from his fingers but his reflexes are good so its ok. i have a feeling mark is hiding small yet insanely strong biceps under all his clothes so he gets it off once he wipes his hands on his shorts a couple times. tells you to not buy those brand of pickles again but kisses your temple as he leaves. you honestly don't tell him you glued it shut because you can tell how confused he is about the whole situation as he slightly tilts his head with a pensive face once hes sat at dinner

haechan... AHHGGHGHHAAAaaaa. squealing. screaming. his eyes are shut so hard. neck craned all the way back as he lets out all his frustrations. you tell him to shut up because you live in a complex lol. in the midst of all your playful arguing he pops the jar open and in the process spills half the bottle on your matching pj set. speechless for about 45 seconds. you both look at each other wide eyed as you finamly tell him shyly it was supposed to be a prank and he is fully straight faced LMFAO you both agree to never speak of this

[julianalvarez9]

miscommunication, pt. 2 / christian pulisic

summary: the silent treatment continues. two certain players try to bring you back to your senses, but you’re still not convinced. maybe you need to talk to certain american to clear it all to you.

author's note: pleasantly surprised at the positive reaction part 1 had! one last part left, this one is kinda enzo x reader centered but we'll get the talk next!!

warnings: the translation is not word-for word accurate, i tried to make it make sense in both languages so sorry if it confuses you kajskaj

word count: 1.1k

“what happened here?” was all you could mutter up. enzo hadn’t quite catched upon what you had perceived, so once you elbowed and reprimanded him for continuing to giggle at whatever media was still ongoing on his phone, he questioned the guys too. “you should ask your boyfriend here” said mason, staring down at christian. without saying another word, not even waiting to hear what his american friend had to say, he picked his stuff, ready to go home after the training journey had ended.

safe to say that things between christian and you got quite… difficult, after that afternoon. 

in fact, they were worse than they had ever been. he was, without a doubt in mind, evading you every chance he got, making it difficult to fulfill your job, which was taking photographs of everybody on the team, and certainly, the one player everyone wanted to see: the one that wore the number 10 on the field.

you had tried to talk to mason about what he meant when he referred to christian as 'your boyfriend', thinking that maybe he was mad with you for not denying it, but he just laughed it off. above all, mason was a good guy, so he gave you an apology for making you feel uncomfortable with the joke. the truth was, that the quip hadn’t pissed you off, quite the opposite indeed. instead, it was the american's reaction that made you angry. or maybe, his lack of.

two months had passed and you still didn't know for sure what you had done to make christian resent you that much, since he didn’t dare to speak to you. the most difficult part about losing a best friend so suddenly and without a warning was that you missed your jokes, your coffee talks, him hiding in your office when he wanted to avoid the coach on a special hard day at training. you started doubting every move or thing you said before the fallout. had he noticed how you looked at him? it’s certainly different from how you saw his teammates. had he noticed it too? had mason joked about it because he knew?

“¿cómo están saliendo las fotos?” (how are the pics turning out?) asked enzo, in a clear attempt at putting a smile on your face. today was being particularly hard, and due to this, you were zoning out too much, not concentrating enough on the task at hand: film little snippets of training to make a little video for the team’s socials. you only nodded, not changing the seriousness in your face, and it wasn’t appreciated by the argentinian that his powers of making you laugh clearly weren’t doing the job today.

"¿qué pasa entre ustedes dos?" (what’s going on between you two?) he insisted, having to jog a bit to catch you since you had continued your path while he stayed behind. you didn’t understand who he meant, or tried not to assume, so he tilted his head signaling at the american player that was just coming into the training pitch after changing on the lockers. you tried to dissipate his question, shooting another one at him. "nada, por qué?" (nothing, why?)

he just laughed, like you had said the funniest joke, and you furrowed your brows in confusion at his reaction. he explained, shrugging his shoulders while doing so. "no parece ‘nada’. cada vez que me acerco a vos, siento que quiere arrancarme la cabeza" (doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’. every time i get close to you, i feel like he wants to take my head off).

you nervously laughed, shaking off his assumption. "estás viendo cosas. no me quiere de esa forma" (you’re seeing things. he doesn’t like me like that). enzo raised his brows in question, like he knew something you didn’t. "yo le preguntaría" (i’d ask him). you were now walking off the pitch, having enough content to edit for the video. kepa, one of the first players that had reached up to you when you arrived at chelsea all those years ago, was listening to the exchange and wanted to contribute his two cents to the cause. pointing to enzo, he said "tiene un punto" (he’s got a point), and you huffed at his remark. "vos también?" (you too?).

smiling, the goalkeeper raised his hands, trying to hide the mischief that was dancing on his features away from your interrogative eyes. "yo le preguntaría si fuera tú" (i'd ask him if i was you). enzo kept pushing you too, knowing that you just needed a bit of courage before confronting the american player. "tenés que hablar con él, aclarar las cosas. no pueden seguir así" (you have to talk to him, clear shit out. you two can’t keep going like this). feeling like the two chelsea players were blaming you for the fallout didn't quite feel right to you, knowing that you weren't at fault for whatever shit that was going on in christian's head. angrily, you spoke. "no le debo nada. no fuimos nada nunca. aparte, por qué yo? por qué no puede hablar él?" (i don't owe him nothing. we never were a thing. also, why me? why can't he speak?).

kepa, who thought that at least one of the two was coming to his senses, rubbed his hands on his face, trying to shake the frustration away. "you better than anyone should know he never talks about his feelings". enzo looked at him like the goalscorer had said something horrifying. pointing at him, he asked you, "¿qué dijo?" (what did he say?). you only giggled, knowing that you had been in charge of teaching enzo the basics of english, and that's why you two had gotten so close since he had arrived to the club: he was better now, the language barrier not as strong as before, but clearly still present. "deberías entender esa frase, otherwise i'm doing a shit job" (you should understand that sentence).

christian clenched his fists while seeing the interaction, even if he was far away and couldn't tell what you two were saying: seeing you smile like you did when you were with enzo, brighter and louder than you ever did with him, made him furious. he was aware of kepa’s presence in the conversation, but the difference in your behavior with the two guys was enough proof for him that there was something different between you and the argentinian player.

mason had told him that this couldn’t go on any longer, and even if he never wanted to agree with his fellow teammate, he knew he needed to do it. and if he wanted to understand why he felt the way he did, christian needed to talk to you about it.

still doubtful, he made his way across the pitch to the three of you, where you still were all joking around, clearly blocking the way back to the lockers. since christian hadn’t even looked your way lately, you thought that you were in his way, and hurried the boys to get out of his path. “that’s not what i’m here for” he said, awkwardly moving his weight from one foot to the other, clearly nervous. “can we talk? please?” he tried again, in a low tone, trying to avoid the other two players from hearing, even if they had given you two a bit of space since his arrival. enzo was looking attentively at the exchange, wanting to make sure you were alright with the interaction. you nodded, part to answer to what christian had asked you, and part to assure the argentinian that you were okay with this.