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ohtobeleah · 25 days

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Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Four: [Like Father, Like Daughter]

Summary: You receive news from your case worker about a family member, its sends you into a spiral. Bob is awol from the Hard Deck and Jake is constantly up to his old tricks.

Warnings: Death, mentions of witness protection. Jake Seresin x F!reader

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: Been trucking along at this series. Really trying to spend a little time each day writing a few paragraphs for some projects. And I really do LOVE these two.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Throughout history, there has always been a superstition that expands across many belief systems. Mirrors can be seen as a portal to another dimension; the reflection staring back at you is another version of yourself. Another version of you from another timeline or realm.

If that were true, you’d give anything to trade places with the reflection staring back at you as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the small hallway mirror that hung for aesthetics.

“What do you mean?” Your voice shook with confusion, this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. “Roger, what the fuck do you mean my dad died?”

Roger Spague was your case agent. He had been assigned your case right after the funerals of your husband and son. Soon after everything occurred, you were encouraged to enter witness protection to safeguard your testimony. As the only witness who could help bring the men who murdered your family and organised a multilevel drug syndicate to justice, your word was more valuable than gold itself.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Roger has always been a rather hard nut to crack. He took no bullshit and smiled very rarely. He saw the world for black and white more than he ever did grey. Morals were good or bad, nothing could be in between. “He, unfortunately, passed away a month ago, we’ve been informed of the burial site, Hollow Hills. However, we really advise against you visiting anytime soon,” Rogers’s monotone voice echoed in your head as you struggled to hold your composure.

“Why? Why would I not run out this door right now to visit my father’s fucking grave you asshole!” You hissed into the phone. Surely this was all some sick joke or a nightmare that never ended. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe properly. You were almost certain your heart was breaking apart yet again. The shattering pieces would surely slice into your arteries, causing you the bleed out and be at peace with the pain you’d carried for over three years.

“Because they could be monitoring the site, do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked so hard to protect?” Roger reminded you through the phone. At this stage, you were sure that all the tears you’d cried over the years had permanently stained your cheeks. Maybe one day you’d wake up with no more tears left to cry.

“Roger–” You sobbed as you made your way into your bedroom. You slumped onto the side and crumpled in on yourself. The only support system keeping you up was your elbows digging into your knees “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice to quit this,” Roger, with his little sympathise and tunnel vision, reminded you. “You don’t get to leave this until those bastards are behind bars, and we’ve put too much work into this to have you throw it all away now.”

“But he’s my dad,” You never got to say goodbye. You never got to tell him how much you loved him, how much you still and always will. You never got to hold your mother or comfort your sister. Everything you’d missed, everything you’d sacrificed was starting to outway the idea, the pipe dream of justice. You were, at the very basic explanation, tired of this life. “I need to visit his grave.”

“Not until we know for certain that there isn’t anyone monitoring his grave just waiting for you to show up.” The reality was hard to accept, you didn’t want to accept it. But the fact of the matter was, that you have just lost another member of your family, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to help yourself forgive that loss.

“Fuck you,” You spat as tears spilled over your lower lash line. “Fuck you and fuck all of this do you hear me?”

“No skin off my nose there, just remember why you’re doing this, who you’re doing this for, Y/n.” Just hearing your real name, and hearing those syllables leave someone’s mouth made you feel real. That you were still a real person with real emotions and valid feelings. “Remember what’s a stake here, they get the chance to kill you now? Then what’s all this been for?”

“I hate you–” Was all you were able to get out before you broke down completely, deciding that the floor was the best place to be. You hung up the phone and made sure to throw it as far away as you possibly could.

The carpet soaked up as many tears as possible before you fell asleep crying, sobbing until your eyes could no longer remain open and a steady rhythm took over in your chest. Sleep….it never came easy, but you needed it.

By the time you slowly opened your eyes again, the sun had risen higher in the sky and the ice cream you’d brought in your weekly shop was melted into a puddle of liquid. You knew as you slowly peeled yourself off the carpet that you had to get yourself together before you lost the plot. So you trailed out into the hallway and made your way back to the kitchen to put away your groceries. The bags still sat where you and Jake had left them on the island bench.

“You’re okay,” It was two simple words, but the lies that read between the lines were big enough to make them seem like a whole novel of untruthful affirmations. “You’re okay,” Again you repeated the same two words as you unpacked your groceries. “You’re okay.” Hoping that if you said them enough……

You’d hopefully start to believe them.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Cutting lemons was one of those mundane tasks you actually enjoyed. It gave you something to do while zoning out. You’d only been at work for roughly an hour before the patrons started to pile in after work. Naval men and women from all walks of life all heading to the local watering hole. It wasn't too long after you started on your fourth lemon that Jake made his appearance in your peripheral vision. There was no doubt that his proximity to you was the cause behind your palpitations.

Jake stood on the other side of the bar, smiling his signature shit-eating grin at you while he watched your knife skills.

“What's a guy gotta do to get you to handle him like that lemon?” Trust Jake to lead with the unorthodox hello. When you looked up and met your gaze, you knew you were in deep water. The smile that smeared itself across your face was as genuine as it could ever be.

“I didn’t know you were into knife play Seresin?” You saw the way Jake's eyes slightly widened with promiscuous enlightenment at your reply. “You just after the usual?” You asked as you placed the knife you’d been using into the sink.

“Yes ma’am, and to see the pretty barkeep,” Jake replied as he sat down on one of the empty barstools. He looked far too handsome in his flight suit, but you’d never tell him that. His ego was already inflated enough.

“Penny! Hangman here to see you!” You called out as you washed your hands from all the lemon juice. Jake wouldn’t deny it if you asked that his eyes had dropped from looking at your hair to your ass as you turned around briefly to dry them on the rag that sat nearby.

“I was talking about you–” He smiled as you turned back around to face him. His elbows were resting against the top of the bar, casually, like he was truly at home.

“Bet you say that to all the ladies–” You added as you picked up a glass, going about making Jake his usual order.

“Nope, just you.” It was quiet, a little more serious with an underlying sense of admiration. Jake meant it, he thought you were gorgeous. From the moment he first met you, he saw all the beauty and grace that seamlessly radiated from your aura. “I think you’re beautiful, Brewer.”

Jake's complement knocked the wind from your lungs as you held the glass at an angle and watched the amber liquid pool at the bottom. Slowly but surely filling the glass to the top with a perfect head of froth.

“What did I tell you about flattery?” You sighed as you placed the beer down in front of the aviator who was slowly capturing your whole heart in the palm of his hands. Completely unaware that he was falling in love with a complete stranger.

“That it won’t get me anywhere–” Jake grinned, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “But if I remember correctly, it did.” The sensation of having Jake’s lips pressed against yours came flooding back as the heat in your cheeks rose. “Let me take you out to dinner?”

“Jake,” You had to sigh. “Not this again?” Playing a little hard to get wouldn’t hurt the man, would it?

“Or come over to mine then?” Jake proposed with a cheeky Serein grin you assumed he got from his mother.

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled as you let your hands rest on your bar, leaning in a little closer to Jake. “So I can contract whatever deceases you’re harbouring in that petri dish of a bachelor pad?” Jake pretended to be wounded as he placed a hand over his chest at your remark. You shook your head as you let out a small laugh. “I don’t think so, Seresin, but I’ll give you points for trying.”

Jake sat there momentarily, just drinking in the sight of the woman who had slowly become his favourite person to be around. This was his favourite part of the entire day. Getting to come to the Hard Deck, sit on his stool by the bar and talk to you. He thought about you all day long. About all the ways you did our hair and those mom jeans that hugged your waist just right. He’d catch himself thinking about the way you humbly count your tips at the end of each night, or the way you laugh with Fanboy over the most insane things. He would often daydream about your smile, your eyes, and your ability to captivate the entire bar.

“Fine,” Jake knocked his knuckles on the wood of the bar as he rose to his feet once again. “Suit yourself, but just for the record, I like my bachelor pad very much.” For as much as Jake truly did love his quick, tidy and rather put-together home, he sure wouldn’t have minded the slightest bit if you lived there too.

“I think the local community of gonorrhoea would say the same.” You took the card Jake was handing over. “Starting a tab?”

“Depends, what’s Bradshaws looking like?” Jake was always the first to add an extra beer or three onto Bradley’s outstanding tab. You were always the first person to turn a blind eye then doing so. As you looked up Roosters name in the system the number was much higher than you originally expected. It seemed as though the boys had well and truly been taking advantage of Rooster’s current love-hate relationship with the Hard Deck barkeep.

“Eh, he owes me a couple hundred.” You smiled softly back at Jake as you placed his card in the draw.

“Yeah, start a table angel, gives me more of an excuse to linger,” Jake replied with a genuine smile, his eyes were soft and swirling with ease. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. You gentled him to a point where if you asked him tomorrow to run away with you, he’d follow you to the end of the world.

“I’m sure that’s called stalking–” You sighed as you turned around momentarily to pick up your knife and head back to cutting your lemon slices.

“Consider me your biggest fan then, Brewer.” Jake grinned ear to ear as he took a sip of his beer, heading off toward the pool table where you knew he’d be for the next few hours.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The Hard Deck was rather busy for a Monday afternoon. The bar was in high spirits as you manoeuvred yourself around the floor collecting empty glasses and cans. You could feel Jake’s eyes burning into you as you spoke to patrons and cleaned up tables. But there was one person you hadn’t seen yet that you needed to talk to desperately. Bob.

“Where’s our resident underage drinker this evening gentlemen?” You cooed as you made your way over to your favourite group of aviators. “And Nix.” You added as you gave Phoenix a side hug.

“Haven’t seen him actually?” Fanboy replied, his answer wasn’t one you wanted to hear. Usually, if someone wasn’t here by this time of the night then they weren’t coming at all. You really needed to speak to Bob.

“Do you think he'll be in?” You questioned as you let go of Phoenix and went about collecting empty glasses. You knew Bob had annual leave coming up, he'd been talking about it for weeks now.

“Why the sudden obsession with Bob, Brewer?” Rooster chimed in. “You guys on the down low or something?” That very question had Jake's blood boiling. You could see the jealousy clear as day smeared across his face from across the pool table.

“I’m uh—” It came out before you knew what you were saying. “I'm seeing someone, casually, it's really new.” Your eyes very quickly glanced over at Jake who now wore that same smug grin that he normally wore. Only this time his eyes were swirling with administration. “It's not Bob, but I appreciate your interest in my love life, Bradshaw.”

“Lord help the man who ends up under your control,” Bradley rolled his eyes with a deep resentment you couldn't quite understand. The feud between the pain of you was something that formed from a mere misunderstanding. Surely the two of you could let bygones be bygones and move on.

“An apology will wipe that ever-mounting tab clear Bradshaw, you know that.” You teased as you made your way back to the bar. You could feel the back of your throat growing tighter, and the sting of holding back tears that had become an all too familiar sensation began to grow. You couldn’t keep yourself busy enough to forget your dad was dead and no one, not a single soul had told you of his passing until he was six feet under. No amount of work could keep your mind from trailing to all the memories that played aloud in your mind, drowning out the mundane chatter from patrons.

“Can I get another beer sweetheart?” You hear one of the men say as he held his head up with the palm of his hand. He was using his elbow as an anchor, keeping him from slumping over onto the bar.

“Sure, what are you drinking?” You facked a smile so easily readable that Jake saw right through it from across the Hard Deck. He could sense that you were off, something wasn’t right. One minute you were happy, the next he didn't recognise the look in your eyes.

“Whatever you don’t mind tasting after you finish your shift.” The man said with the confidence of a much taller man. It made the damn burst inside you. Fuck this and fuck everything.

“Careful, the succulent reminder of your own inadequacies walking this way might cause a scene real quick if you don’t back off.” The problem was simple, you’re doing it all on your own. Choosing to stay all closeted in your own little bubble, longing for love, friends and family. Scared of death, scared of life, taking it out on those who tried to get close. But as Jake walked towards the bar, you felt like you could rely on him. He made you feel safe even if being around you put him in unimaginable danger. “That’s what I thought too.” You chuckled to yourself as the man nodded and sighed.

“You good?” Jake asked as he decided against following the first of many of Penny’s rules for the residence group of aviators. Mavericks rag-tag team of adopted children. The first and most important being no aviators behind the bar. Jake, however, didn’t care.

“I feel like I’m rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic here,” You growled as you poured the man his beer. The last one you were going to pour him for the night. “My life is falling apart around me and here I fucking am pouring beers for America’s best and brightest tax-guzzling fighter pilots.”

Jake could very much sense that something was wrong, this wasn’t like you. He thought, however, since your shared moment in your apartment yesterday, that he had some sort of upper hand here over all the others.

“You need to take a break, just pause for a second.” Jake placed his hand softly on your shoulder as he stood behind you. Whatever was going on inside your head was bleeding out into reality.

The feeling broke you. Jake’s touch, it wasn’t your husband’s. The man you got killed. It was Jake’s touch that broke you from whatever restraints you had tangled yourself in. The barbed wire that cut you right to your bones.

“No, you can’t just pause, because in real life the trauma doesn’t just stop,” You broke as you spun around into Jake’s chest. He was quick to look around as people from all walks of life looked around to bear witness to your impending mental breakdown. He caught Bradley’s gaze before anyone else's. Even the man who had unintentionally started a war with the new Hard Deck manager was worried about you.

“Penny–” Jake sighed as he looked over at the woman who still ran the show from behind the scenes. She nodded in agreement, a silent one. One where it was now Jake’s responsibility to get you out of the Hard Deck before you could draw any more attention to yourself.

“Let's go outside alright? Get some air–?” Jake tried to reason with you as you shook your head and balled your fist into his white cotton T. Your eyes swirled with a pain he’d never be able to process. A pain so unfathomable it sounded fictional.

“God doesn’t work that way or whoever the fucks in charge of this godforsaken hell I’m living!! You can do absolutely everything right and still…. Good, people, die.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff

@buckysteveloki-me e @athenabarnes

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@86laura11 @mickie-rosebud

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst

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marvelobsessed134 · 6 months

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Love me tender part three: moving in

Series masterlist

Pairings: 60s!rockstar!bucky x innocent!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, guided masturbation, innocent!reader, Bucky refuses to look at readers pussy until their wedding night, Bucky refers to reader as a little girl once, expectations from the time period, age gap (Bucky is 24 and reader is 18), Bucky denies reader of sex till marriage

With a lot of convincing from Bucky, your father allowed you to move into his house in the countryside of California. It is absolutely beautiful and huge. You’re so overwhelmed by all of the rooms and things inside of it. Even though your father’s house is a very decent size, you’ve never seen one like this before.

You packed all of your things you needed before heading out front. Bucky waited leaning against his black Cadillac in a perfect buttoned up shirt tucked into pants. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he watched you make your way towards him.

The singer threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it before quickly helping you get your suitcases in the trunk. Once that was done, he stepped close to you and looks down at you before pressing a kiss to your lips.

He loved the way you looked in your pastel pink dress and soft white cardigan with your big hair.

“So beautiful.” He murmured before kissing you again making you giggle, “Bucky let’s hurry up before my father changes his mind.”

“Your wish is my command darlin’.”

He opened the passenger door to you and let you inside before shutting it and running to the drivers side.

When you got to his house you were in utter awe. As you drove through the iron gates and saw the fountain in the middle of the curved driveway and the beautiful huge grassy lawn you felt like you were in a whole other dimension.

As soon as Bucky pulled up to the from numerous assistants emerged from the front doors and got your suitcases out for you. Bucky helped you out of the car and gently held your hand as he led you through the grand front doors.

“Why don’t I show you the living room first sweetheart?” He asked and you nodded with a smile. You followed him into the beautiful living room with a gorgeous fire place and comfy couches. A tv set sat on an angle towards the couches. There were potted palm plants in the corners of the room.

“It’s so beautiful in here.” You gushed.

“Well you oughta get used to it honey it’s yours now too.” His words made your heart flip flop. He lead you throughout other parts of the house-more like mansion-before he had one id his assistants tell him he had someone waiting on the phone for him.

“I have to take care of some business but you keep explorin’.” The rockstar gave you a quick kiss before leaving you in the hallway upstairs. You slowly continued to walk till you reached two double doors at the end which was clearly Bucky’s bedroom. You knew you shouldn’t intrude on his private space and how wrong it was for unmarried people to share a bedroom but you just wanted to know what it looked like so bad.

So without any maid or assistant seeing you, you quickly slipped into the room. You closed the door and leaned against it after taking a deep breath. You looked around the room and slowly stepped further. A huge king sized bed was up against the wall in the middle of the room with two nightstands on either side. A another television set was across from the bed. Two doors were inside the room assumably to the bathroom and a walk in closet. The view from the large windows overlooked the backyard with its green lawn and large pool and beautiful landscaping.

Bucky has very good taste, you thought to yourself. There was also a loveseat at the foot of the bed. You walked towards the bed and slowly and carefully sat down on the plush mattress. It was softer than anything you’ve felt before.

Suddenly you felt this wave of tiredness wash over you. You couldn’t sleep last night since you were both so nervous and excited about the big move. And you woke up extra early today. So you found yourself kicking off your heels and lying back on the bed to drift off to sleep.

~Time Skip~

“Y/n, wake up baby.” A familiar baritone voice spoke softly as you slowly opened your eyes. You looked up to see your fiancé-he immediately proposed after the third date which isn’t as insane for this time period-sitting next to your small frame staring down at your fondly. You slowly sat up and yawned, “I’m sorry Bucky. I know I shouldn’t even be in here in the first place but I was just so curious and then I got tired and fell asleep.” You tried to explain yourself the best you could in hopes not to get into too much trouble.

“That’s alright, darlin’. You’ve had a big day today little girls like you can get easily tired.”

“M’not a little girl Bucky.” You laughed softly. The singer leaned down and kissed you.

“You’re precious just like one.” You blushed at that.

Later on as the days went by you got quite used to living with Bucky. The two of you spent time together all the time but when he wasn’t around you occupied yourself by going out to the pool, reading in the home library, watching movies and going shopping.

There were times where you’d get that sensation between your legs and god, you’d do anything for Bucky to take care of it. Too nervous and scared to touch yourself, you needed him badly.

One night you began to kiss him with more passion and started to grind against him. You felt his growing bulge under his satin pajamas but before you two could go any further he put a stop to it, “This is something that’s very special to me and I want to experience it after we’re married.” You pouted at his words, “but this feeling I have-“

“Let me teach you how to touch yourself okay honey? And you won’t have to do it much longer we’re gettin’ married real soon.” He soothed you and you nodded.

So, Bucky sat behind you in front of the floor length mirror and asked you to spread your legs. You were in a short babydoll nightgown. “Now take your panties off. Don’t worry I won’t look.” You took off your panties and he had his eyes closed. “I don’t want to see that pretty pussy of yours till our weddin’ night but I’m gonna do the best I can to show you how to play with it okay?” He opened his eyes but only paid attention to your face in the mirror and not your naked lower body.

“Okay Bucky.” Your soft, sweet voice responded.

“Run a finger up between those folds.” You did as he said, and hissed at the friction. “Good girl now continue to rub those wet lips and try and stick a finger inside.”

You rubbed your wet folds, getting your fingers wet as well before slowly entering yourself using one slender finger. You moaned softly at the feeling. “God if only I could see that pussy right now. Okay now, you know that little button at the top, go ahead and rub that with your thumb, princess.”

You rubbed your clit with your thumb and squealed at the feeling of slight overstimulation before going back in and rubbing your thumb. “Thrust that finger in and out, maybe add a second one too.” Your fiancé suggested and you obeyed him, adding a second finger and fucking yourself while rubbing your clit.

Bucky admired your beautiful face as you relished in the newly found pleasure. “Mmm Bucky I feel so…good. I feel like I’m going to pee!” You cried.

“Don’t stop baby, you’re about to cum and it’s gonna feel so good I promise baby keep goin’.”

You did as he said and finally you experienced your first ever orgasm, you saw stars as you came all over your fingers. You caught your breath and leaned helplessly against Bucky’s chest.

“You did so good Y/n. Such a good girl.” He smiled at you through the mirror and kissed you on the cheek making you blush and giggle.

#marvel rockstar au #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #rockstar!bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #60s au #elvis presley #elvis and priscilla

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macabr3-barbi3 · 4 months

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dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

With new abilities comes fun- and some new problems.

SLOW MOVING BUT WE'RE GETTING THERE FOLKS- have a healthy dose of both plot and angst bc I have no self control hehehe

Those that asked to be tagged (if I missed you or tagged by mistake I AM SORRY AHHH)! @fraugwinska (MY LOVE MY DEAR MY MUSE 💛) @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @dennsfz

@bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @martinys-world @minamilinaqueen

Tags: Dream Sex; Dreamsharing; Vaginal Sex; Rough Sex; Light Bondage; Dreamwalking; Clone Sex; Threesome - F/M/M; Tentacles; Overstimulation; Angst

Comments and feedback are always loved and appreciated thank u and enjoy 🫶

In the weeks following Alastor ripping his stitches open, you are careful to avoid his dreams- and his bed- so that he can properly recover this time. After his wound heals, when Alastor starts stepping out for errands away from the Hotel again, you start practicing your newfound abilities.

You nap in your own room at times when Husk is off duty and start small- knocking over bottles on the shelf while he speaks with Angel or Charlie in his dreams. Loosening his bowtie so he has to fix it when it starts dangling off his throat. Replacing the alcohol in his glass with various juices and other liquids- and okay, maybe replacing all of the vodka with water was a step too far, since that’s what eventually made Husk start looking around the lobby in suspicion in his dreams. You just hovered on the outer edges of his consciousness, hidden in the shadows of the lobby and watching, messing with things a bit.

Niffty was next, and under any other circumstances you would have felt bad about conjuring a wave of roaches from the closet she was about to open; the little cyclops had a blast though, pulling out her tiny dagger and stabbing away as she was carted off down the hallway, giggling maniacally. It was during this dream that you realized you could vanish, blend into the background of the dreamscape as easily as Alastor shifted into shadows. Niffty had no clue you were there as she rode the wave of bugs into consciousness.

There was only so much that you could really test without the person knowing about it- you didn’t want to try your luck with Vaggie or Charlie without knowing the extent of your abilities, so you finally cave and ask Alastor for permission to enter his dreams to practice some things; simple conjuring, your disappearing act, just generally testing how much control you really had. He also offered up use of his pocket dimension to test the range of your power, which was the first thing that you did together.

Technically with this knowledge you could have figured out a room in the hotel that would prevent you from being close to anyone as you slept. But who wants to climb those extra sets of steps? Better to just stay in Alastor’s room, you figured.

So here you were, in Alastor’s dream version of the bayou, a clearing in the forest laid before you. “The first thing that we should consider,” he tells you, “is that you may not be the only person with powers such as you have. If this is the case, it’s pertinent that both of us learn to distinguish between what is created by the dreamer’s own mind, and what is conjured with your powers. Duplicate this,” he demands, and when he holds out his hand he has a book that he transfers to you before turning around. You concentrate on it, manifesting an identical copy in your opposite hand. Last second, you swap the hand that holds each book before Alastor turns around and takes them back.

He inspects them closely before he gives you back the one that you had created. “It’s very subtle,” he says with a hum, “but if you look and feel closely you can find the differences. Whether that is a matter of your current lack of experience or a side effect of your powers we’ll have to determine.” You run your hands over both of them, actually inspecting rather than just holding them, and can’t find anything different between them. When you tell Alastor this, he simply provides something else for you to duplicate; a silk robe.

This time when you create yours, you take a moment to feel beyond what is in your hand and you think you know what he’s talking about; there’s something a little less corporeal about it even though it’s solid in your hands, the edges almost a little fuzzy if you look too closely. You focus a little harder to see if you can fix that and the lines of the robe sharpen. Satisfied, you have Alastor turn around again, and this time he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re a quick study.” You repeat the exercise a couple more times, the items increasing in size from a radio to a log, finally stumping Alastor with a duplicated taxidermy raccoon- you bring them both to life, and they scamper about between Alastor’s legs before running off into the bayou, evidently vanishing with a snap of his fingers and then yours.

“Excellent,” Alastor commends you, and you glow with the praise, facing away from him still from having turned to watch the raccoons. “We both can tell how to tell your items from those created by the dreamer- now we’ll see if there’s any distinct difference between the dreamer themselves and, say, a duplicate created as a distraction.”

Your inquiry as to what he means is answered when you turn around to face him, and instead of one Alastor there are two.

The pulse of heat in your core at being caught in two of those predatory gazes was distracting, but you could put it aside. “Got it. So am I trying to figure this out just visually?”

The Radio Demons speak in unison, twin smiles in place. “You may touch, if you think that will help.”

You let out a nervous breath and approach, reaching out to the one on the left and trailing your fingers down his arm, focusing hard. You repeat the action on the demon to the right, and you can tell immediately that this one is the clone- its different from when you created duplicates, but there’s still something that almost tingles under your fingers when you touch it that gives it away, where the real Alastor hadn’t given off a similar sensation. Just to be sure, you run your hand over the expanse of its shoulders, noticing the way that the demon beside you stiffens ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and smile going tense at the way you’re touching it.

An idea clicks into your head- wicked, devious, something that Alastor would surely disapprove of. But with such an opportunity presented, how could you deny the whim?

You stand in Alastor’s space, much closer than you would normally allow yourself, and crane up on your tiptoes to get in his face. “This is the decoy,” you say confidently, and the one that stands behind you speaks instead of the true version.

“What makes you so sure?” Even the voice is ever so slightly off, a tint to the tone of the voice that you only pick up on because you’re listening so closely. “Choose your words carefully, dear, lest you insult me.”

You shrug, tone nonchalant. “There’s just something about this one,” you say towards the real Alastor, stepping back and circling around him, letting your fingers trail along his coat sleeve. “It doesn’t feel quite as… real as you do.” You turn to face the duplicate, startling a bit when it’s closer than you anticipated. “I think I’ve had enough practice touching you in your dreams to know the real thing.”

“Is that so?” Alastor murmurs behind you, and it takes everything in you not to turn at the sound, lean back into him. “Well then, perhaps you’d care to make a little wager?”

“Maybe.” You feel your shoulders stiffen when he presses against you from behind, chest against the expanse of your back and hands settling on your waist. “What do you have in mind?”

Clone Alastor brings its hands up to cup your face. “If you stay convinced that I am the real Alastor,” it whispers, face coming to one side to whisper tenderly in your ear, “then you win. Your reward can be whatever you would like.”

“However! If I manage to break your conviction and change your mind,” Alastor says from the other side. “I win. And if I win, my reward is that you allow me to experiment and test your abilities- both within and outside a dream- to my heart’s content.”

“Hmm.” You could always just lie, you supposed- what way would Alastor have of knowing that you were telling the truth? He couldn’t tell now- this would be an easy win for you. And maybe getting to see Alastor get a little jealous would be a nice bonus. “I accept. I’m pretty convinced though.” Just to really sell the point, you press your hands against the chest of the clone, run them over the fabric, tilt your head up to look into its eyes.

Alastor huffs behind you. “Very well. Perhaps you require a reenactment of the things we’ve done in dreams thus far- just to be sure? Make sure that you really recognize the touch.” His hands come up from your waist to cup your breasts, shirt vanishing at the contact and his thumbs brushing softly over your nipples. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale, the duplicate stepping ever closer and bringing its lips down to meet yours.

There’s an underlying current of static to the kiss, something that doesn’t happen when you kiss Alastor. It’s not unpleasant, and you moan into it, playing it up just a tad for the benefit of the demon that stands behind you, letting a soft tremble take over your body that wasn’t entirely for show.

“What do you think, darling?” Alastor drags his tongue up the length of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your jawline. “Still convinced?” He sucks on the soft skin, almost too hard before pulling back with a kiss to the tender spot. His nimble fingers pluck at the sensitive peaks of your breasts, chest pressing further into the front of the duplicate who licks into your mouth with intent, biting gently at your lips.

“Perhaps you need a bit more to really cement your resolve,” it says into the kiss, bending to nuzzle at your neck on the opposite side from Alastor. “It would be unfair to expect you to guess without all of the same experiences.”

Despite the sensations of pleasure taking over your body, you still find the energy to snark at him, “not guessing. I know.” And twist your fingers into the soft (but not as soft) locks of the clone’s hair, dragging it closer to your skin and grinding your hips against his and the growing erection that you find there.

Snaps sound in unison and their clothes disappear to wherever yours had gone, and a hot length of hardness presses against you from either side- Alastor against the plush curve of your ass and his clone against your pelvis and hip. “By the time I’ve finished,” they say, the static that hisses between them by your head making you dizzy with arousal, “you won’t know anything but my name.”

There are hands sliding down your body then, Alastor slipping a finger into your wetness while his clone thumbs at your clit, both of them gently rutting against your soft skin. You let your head drop back onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the menacing grin that you find on his face forces a shaky exhale from your mouth. “S-seems like a lot of work to change my mind,” you murmur, and he steals your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Nothing with you is ever work, darling,” he whispers when he pulls back, another finger added to your slick cunt, his fingers crooking against the soft bunch of nerves and making you gasp and arch. The clone drops his head from your shoulder trail nips and kisses down your chest, his tongue circling a nipple and sucking lightly. “I think of it more like an investment in my personal entertainment- and pleasure.”

You feel the way you clamp down on his fingers at that, and the clone scrapes his teeth against your sensitive breast- you whimper, reaching down to pull its face up so you can meet his mouth as well. When Alastor growls behind you, you ask, “what? Equal screen time is only fair.”

His smile turns treacherous. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, dear- I plan to hold you to it.”

With that his fingers leave you, arousal dripping to the forest floor as his hands come to your shoulders and pull, the same moment that the clone grips your legs and lifts, automatically wrapping them around your waist so you don’t fall. You’re left in the position of some kind of odd bridge between them, left staring up at the stars through the canopy of the trees in the bayou, the questioning of it dying on your lips when the thick cock of the clone pushes into you- slowly, relentlessly, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you with his claws digging into the flesh of your hips.

If you hadn’t already been aware that the demon behind you was the real one, the way he hisses through his teeth would have given him away- Alastor can feel it, you know he can, the tight grip of your walls clenching down on the clone’s length somehow happening in duplicate on him, his hands tightening their hold on your upper body where you lean into his chest. And this, at least, doesn’t feel too different from the real thing; the second Radio Demon fills you perfectly, hips pressed flush to yours before pulling back and bucking forward again, a shock of pleasure that ripples through your body and forces a cry from your lips. The angle of the way they’re holding you pushes him right against the sweet spot inside.

When a couple of claw tipped fingers come down to press against your clit in soft circles you’re done for, the strength of your orgasm causing you to whimper and drop your head back against Alastor’s chest, body tensing and shaking as the clone rides out the waves of it. You wait for his release but it doesn’t come- no flood of heat inside of you or spilling onto your exposed skin. Your eyes open, watching the clone through blurry eyes and trying to raise your head up.

Your body is shifting then, shadows emerging from both demons to effectively flip you in the opposite direction, clinging to the duplicate’s chest now as Alastor presses his erection against you again, a couple tendrils of darkness wrapped securely around your waist and legs to support you from below. “What-”

“It’s not a fair game if we don’t both get a turn,” says the Alastor in front of you, grin dangerous as he whispers against your forehead, and you’re being entered again, faster this time since you’re already slick and open and ready for him. The force of it punches the air out of your lungs, exhaling wetly into the chest of the dream manifestation before you.

Claws dig into you, sinfully delicious little marks that you know will appear on your body when you awaken. “Or two turns,” comes Alastor’s staticky voice behind you- or, maybe in front of you? With your eyes clenched shut and your focus so completely on the pleasure being wrung from your body, you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, which one of them is speaking. You had thought there was a difference in the way they sounded but-

“Maybe three.”

“Four, even. Equal screen time and all that, like you said. Until we’ve had our fill and you’re absolutely certain which of us is which.” This is accompanied by a sharp thrust of Alastor’s hips, the slapping sound of skin overwhelming in the relative quiet of the bayou. It’s loud and lewd and arousing as anything as he fucks into you, your cunt clamping down with a fierce single-mindedness to keep him inside of you, even as the wetness it creates eases the slide out and back into your body.

“What do you think, dearest?” You can’t even tell which one is speaking any longer, your mouth lolled open against the bare chest of the clone who sweeps a comforting hand over your hair as the real deal fucks you into a cock drunk stupor. “You’re still sure which of us is the duplicate?”

“Y-yes,” you manage, but only because you know that when you started the dream version of Alastor was in front of you. You dig your fingers into his neck and moan, high and unashamed, and feel claws pierce the skin of your hips, a rumbling growl tearing itself from Alastor’s chest. “I- I would know the real thing anywhere- this,” you say, with a forceful, intentional clench around him, knowing you’ll regret this when you wake and all of the aches and bruises appear on your real life body, “is a p-poor imitation .”

He snarls, and you see the shadows of his antlers grow in your peripheral vision. “This poor imitation is going to make you cum, sweetheart, how does that sound?”

“Like a challenge.”

His laugh is dark, one of the shadows coming up from below you to push and grind hard against your clit above where you’re speared on his length. “Th-that’s cheating!” You cry out; the feeling is intense, almost too soon after your last orgasm, pleasure that teeters on the edge of painful . The clone holds you tighter against his chest, soothing touches to your back and head as you’re made to take the cock inside of you and the tentacle thing that plays you with a mindless conviction. “Oh, God, fuck -”

“You forget that I play to win,” he says simply, his speed increasing, and another tendril of shadow slips into you alongside his cock, narrow and squirming in a different rhythm. “The method matters little if the end result is what I want.”

You choke a little when this orgasm hits you, vision darkening on the edges as your body seizes in his grasp, jerking uncontrollably as the force of it slams into you. Again, there’s no spilling of warmth inside your pussy, Alastor’s release once again postponed for whatever reason.

They pass you back and forth like this for a couple more rounds, each time growing more fervent and rough in their handling of your body while they are inside you, only to brush your hair back from your face and whisper sweet, filthy words into your ear while you cling to their arms and your sanity. Your body is drenched in sweat, inner thighs coated in the evidence of your arousal and orgasms- limbs trembling with the effort to keep your head up and your eyes open. You can’t tell them apart by touch anymore, a hand on your body at any given time as they switch your position and pass you between each other, your mind completely gone as you cum another time, body twitching with the pair of them holding you through it.

Immediately after, you lose the comforting presence on either end of your body when both of them step away from you, another couple of tentacles wrapping around you to keep you still as you pant and shake, body weak and trembling. “Alastor?” They’ve both slipped into the shadows, a whirl of noise in the space around you, and when you open your eyes they’re rematerializing- and fuck, you’re already so overly stimulated that you can’t tell them apart by sight alone either, vision still blurry from the power of your last release. The shadows make a sort of shelf beneath you, allowing you to drop your head back into the gentle embrace of something soft and billowy.

They speak in unison now as they approach. “Final determination now, darling,” they say, a hand on either hip. “Which of us is the real thing?”

The wager is the last thing on your mind as you turn towards him, desperate for the more solid connection that the real Radio Demon provides in the dream scene. “Alastor,” you whine, reaching for him, digging your nails into what you can reach if his arm. “Please-“

His smile is devious when the duplicate disappears with a puff of smoke and he slots himself between your legs, pushing forward with a sharp snap that has you keening, head falling back as his claws push into the plush flesh of your hips. “It would appear,” he murmurs, “that you’ve lost the wager, dearest- you’ve changed your mind.”

“Don’t care,” you cry out, grip ironclad where you hold him, spare hand coming up to hold his shoulder like a vice. “Please, Alastor, I’m- I can’t go again, please.” Your body is aching and sore, muscles trembling from how many times they’ve tensed and released and shuddered through an orgasm at his hands. You don’t think that you can do it again; it might honestly shove you from the realm of the dream with how overwhelmed you are.

“Darling, darling,” he whispers, drawing his hips back and pushing forward in a steady rhythm, letting his hands run over your hands wherever he can reach and letting a tentacle reach up to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’ve got one more for me, I’m sure of it. Cum for me one more time, sweetness- let me feel you after taking us both and show you much better the real thing is when I flood your cunt with my release.”

Your stomach swoops with sharp arousal- you’ll never get enough of him talking like that, all traces of the prim and proper Radio Demon gone when he’s desperate to orgasm, buried inside your cunt with no radio filter and no thoughts in that lovely head but to drag you over the edge with him. An edge that, currently, is far too close and threatening to destroy you. “Al- Alastor, please, I can’t,” even as the tension pulls ever tighter, the tentacle at the apex of your thighs unrelenting in its focus, legs shaking uncontrollably where Alastor has wrapped them around his waist, his own steady rhythm stuttering.

“With me, sweetheart,” he says, and the words are tinted like a plea, like he needs it. “Cum with me-” He bends down over you, tongue sliding against yours in your mouth before he turns, teeth sinking into your neck as he spends himself with a muffled groan against your skin, pulses of wet warmth inside of you that have you crying out into the silence of the bayou when your own orgasm tears through you.

You’re shattering- splintering into fractals of consciousness as you’re torn from the space of the dream.

You don’t immediately wake though- pleasure jolts through you with the force of an arc flash but somehow you’re still asleep, flashes of something zipping by you as your- spirit? Soul? Whatever you currently were, you were catching glimpses along your peripheral vision as you moved; scenes of Alastor’s dreams, moments of his life, his face non-smiling and dark, covered in blood, a bullet hole between his eyes, and there was his mother again, as she had been in the first dream you had seen her.

You feel like taffy, being stretched and compressed hundreds of times over the span of what couldn’t be more than a few moments. You don’t think these are things that Alastor is currently seeing or dreaming about, which means that somehow you’ve gone further into his consciousness than his dreams- you might even be in his subconscious, you think, as you see snippets of a memory with Husker, eyes angry and hurt; Niffty, dirty and bloodstained as Alastor offers her a hand; yourself, the way that he had seen you in the dream with his mother, eyes wide and frightened when you had stepped on the stick that gave your position away.

And then there’s more of you, moments that he had apparently been observing you when you weren’t aware. It’s from his own point of view, eyes dropping down to your hand where it rests on Angel’s forearm at the bar, tracing the line of your arm where it’s draped affectionately over Charlie’s shoulder. He’s watched you everywhere, scenes of yourself in front of the fireplace in his room, curled up on a lobby couch, sitting in the main office with plans for guest events laid out before you, an irritated crease in your brow. You see yourself sleeping in the bed in his room where he had apparently stood over you, a clawed finger reaching out to brush your hair back from your face; there’s a rumbling of speech that you can’t make out as he says something and you stir in your sleep, face going slack with a small smile taking over your features.

The scene fades, and the sharp pleasure of your explosive orgasm returns with force, your eyes opening in reality with a choked off cry as your body trembles with the aftershocks of it, hand digging into Alastor’s arm where he lays next to you. The overwhelming feeling fades finally, and your muscles go slack against the mattress, finally turning to look at him.

His eyebrows are creased in concentration, smile still present but a bit strained. “Where were you?” He asks softly, and when you cock your head a bit he clarifies- “I was awake. But you were… elsewhere, it would seem.”

You don’t think he’ll appreciate you being in his mind like you were, but you don’t have many other options as far as figuring out what the fuck that was. “I think I was… in your head? Like your thoughts and memories. Sorry,” you add as an afterthought. “I didn’t mean to- I’m still learning, I don’t really understand what happened-”

“You were in my mind despite my being awake?” Alastor doesn’t look upset at the revelation- rather, he looks intrigued. “It seems that your power is changing- how entertaining!” He jumps up from the bed, the clothes he had fallen asleep in rumpled and wrinkled. He doesn’t seem to care as he starts pacing around the bed. “This is all speculation of course, but it would seem to me that the excessive stimulation in my dream has caused another bond to form with your powers- no longer just between your physical and dream forms, but between your powers and the real world. Fascinating!” His grin is wide, manic when he looks back at you. “And what perfect timing, now that I’ve won a wager that allows me all sorts of rights to experimentation with your powers and abilities. We’re going to have such fun with this, darling-” He continues to ramble and you watch him pace as he does, one turn allowing something to catch your eye.

A bruise on Alastor’s collarbone- where you had held him in the dream, your thumb digging into the skin that covered the bone, apparently hard enough to leave a mark. None of the marks you had left on him in the past had ever manifested like this in the real world; his theory about the links between your dream self and reality seeming more plausible, if you could inflict something physical on him from a dream.

Might as well tell him now. “Alastor,” you interrupt him, and rise from the bed to stand before him, brushing your thumb over the discolored flesh. “Look-”

His eyes go dark, dials flickering when he grins down at you. “Another mystery to experiment with,” he says. “We’ll have to determine if the ability to leave physical alterations is limited to just myself- since you spend the most time in my dreams, I would presume your powers have developed a sort of bond to my mind- or if you could do this to others.”

Your hands freeze on his chest. “What do you mean, ‘others?’ I don’t- I’m not doing anything like this with anyone else.”

“No need to worry, dearest, I didn’t mean the more intimate aspects! I merely meant markings in general- say, if you were to cut someone with your claws, or take a bite from them. Would that manifest in the real world?” His antlers expand, green stitches appearing at the edges of his smile. “Imagine the ease of being able to kill someone in a dream without ever having to be in the room! Oh, the possibilities are thrilling-”

“I’m not doing that.” You let your touch fall from his skin, taking a step back at the clear delight on his face in thinking about you killing someone. “That’s… that’s not what I’m here for, Alastor, I don’t want to use my power like that.”

“You would rather waste your potential? Regardless, we had a wager, my dear, one that you lost- it was made in a dream but it’s still binding. For the sake of experimenting you’ll do whatever I ask of you; that was the condition, was it not?” Something green glows in his hands- not a chain like you had seen on others with a legitimate soul deal, but something like a rope, a leash. He tugs on it gently, enough to make you lose your balance and stumble forward where it pulls at your wrist.

This was the Alastor you had seen in the first dreams of his- ruthless, bloodthirsty, angry. Gone was the softer version of him that you had come accustomed to, the one you had glimpsed in the dream with his mother, in the memories you had seen. You needed to get away-

No sooner had the thought come than there was a blast of light from your palms, startling Alastor into releasing the cord that tied you to him. Your steps falter backwards and put space between the two of you, no time to think about what had just happened; the hurt look in Alastor’s eyes is the last thing that you see before you turn and bolt from the room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/142955671

#alastor x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #simp shit <3 #x reader #DREAM DEMON #asldfkjasldkf I love this story so much #having a great time

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

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Once In A Lifetime

Written for @steddiemicrofic September prompt charm | wc: 548 | rated: G | no cw A/N: Loosely inspired by a tweet, I saw yesterday.

Eddie used to think spending his days laying in bed was a pretty ideal way to live, but that was before he found himself fifteen days into a bed-ridden stay at Hawkins Memorial Hospital after nearly being turned to bat food in a hell dimension. There’s nothing great about this reality. No, it’s just another example of Eddie’s tremendous bad luck.

Though, maybe the universe has decided to cut him some slack because tonight he’s not being woken up by Nurse Patty stabbing his arm with an IV needle or Nurse Jen smacking her cinnamon-flavored gum as she notes his vitals. Instead, he’s jostled awake by his bed lifting and Steve Harrington standing over him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie asks. “Visiting hours are over.”

“Good thing m’not staying long,” Steve says before disappearing into the hallway only to reappear with a wheelchair.

“So you’ve come to be my knight in shining armor and whisk me away in a chariot in the dead of night. Is that what this is?”

Steve gives him that deadpan look he often gives Dustin, and Eddie kinda wants to slap it off his face, but that requires more arm strength than he has, so he resigns to the look.

“Did Dustin not tell you the plan?”

The details of Dustin’s visit this morning are hazy. Probably because the kid showed up an hour into his morphine drip and also because he was rambling about some science-y nerd shit.

“That comet thing is tonight,” Steve says.

“Ah yes,” Eddie says, snapping his fingers with what little strength he possesses. “The “once in a lifetime” one I’d be stupid to miss even though I told him I plan to live to 95 to see the next one.”

“Not to be a dick or anything, but maybe you should focus on making it to 21 first.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. Steve has a point. At the rate he’s been going, he’ll be lucky if he makes it to his next birthday, let alone the next seventy.

“So, what exactly is the plan here, Steve-o? In case you forgot, I’ve been banished to this lovely bedchamber until my insides remember their jobs. And, even if you did get me in that damn chair, there’s no way Patty out there is going to let me leave.”

“She already agreed to let me take you to the parking lot for an hour.”

Eddie stares at Steve in complete bewilderment. “How did you manage that?”

“Turns out the Harrington charm still works on some people,” Steve says. “Now, let’s get you into this chair before Dustin bullies his way inside and ruins this whole thing.”

Thirty minutes, a prayer to a God neither really believes in, and a string of curses later, Eddie finds himself breathing fresh air for the first time in two weeks. The entire Upside Down gang is there, too. Dustin, of course, is in the center, briefing everyone on what to look for as they stare up at the night sky.

As a ball of blazing light passes over them, Eddie can’t help but tear his eyes away from the “once in a lifetime” comet and start at the “once in a lifetime” group of friends he’s now a part of.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddiemicrofic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #just a silly little sunday fic #dani writes

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milf-harrington · 1 year

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the overwhelming feeling of being watched in the dark

steddie | 2.3K | read on ao3

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There was something under Steve Harrington’s bed.

It hadn’t always been there– once upon a time, there’d been nothing but empty space between the bed-frame and the dark blue carpet lining his bedroom floor. Once upon a time, he’d sleep sprawled across his bed like it was bigger than it was, arms and legs dangling over the sides carelessly, no thoughts spared towards monsters that could be watching through the gap in the closet door.

No thoughts spared towards monsters at all.

Until three years ago, when he found out one had apparently been running around in the woods behind his house. Of course, he found out about that little tidbit of information after he’d fought the thing off with a baseball bat that Jonathan Byers had stuck nails in.

Curiously, in November of 1983, Steve developed a troublesome fear of lights.

After the shitshow at the Byers house, he couldn’t stand the quiet buzzing of the bulbs or the way adrenaline gripped his throat every time too many appliances made the lights pulse. Lights flipped on, or off , without warning threw him into fight or flight mode, one hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

So instead he kept the lights off as often as he could, relearning the shape of his house in the dark, right up until Halloween of 1984.

1984 brought junkyards, traversing an underground maze while concussed, and the chittering screech of dogs-that-weren’t-dogs. His hallway at night became a winding tunnel with the potential to fill with writhing, faceless, bodies whose heads peeled open like some sort of fucked up banana, and suddenly lights didn’t seem so bad.

And then, like the universe just couldn’t help itself, 1985 left him with blood in his eyes and drugs in his blood and the chilling understanding that some very bad people had some very sensitive information about him and his friends.

By his 4th brush with death-by-alternate-dimension, his new fear of the dark had become a downright hassle. Embarrassing and impossible to logic his way out of.

Steve was frozen in the doorway of his bedroom, watching Eddie take his rings off. He did this thing where he'd poke his top lip with the tip of his tongue, concentrating hard on twisting each bit of jewellery off before reaching forward to drop it onto Steve's fancy writing desk. They clattered against the wood, ringing sharply when they skimmed each other, and Steve was trying very hard to focus on all of that and not the sight of Eddie’s ankles exposed to the underside of his bed.

A grown man could fit under there and Steve knew that because sometimes he hid under his bed when the world was too much.

Eddie looked over his shoulders, eyebrow cocked somewhat playfully. He was always some level of playful, like he didn't know how to exist in the world without turning it into a game. “You planning on standing there all night?”

Steve’s eyes dropped from his face to the space between the carpet and the bed-frame. A man could fit under there. Someone who knew his name and had his keys because his pockets had been emptied when he and Robin had been captured.

He swallowed, trying to ignore it, and looked back to find that Eddie’s expression had softened into something else. Something concerned. “Stevie?”

There’s someone under the bed , he wanted to say. Even if the logic wasn’t foolproof, the connection had already been made in his head and there was no thinking his way out of it. Someone could fit under there, so someone had fit under there and now if Steve turned off the light they were both going to die.

He glanced at the light switch, sitting innocently by his shoulder, and a cold panic coiled tight in his stomach.

“You can keep the light on.” Eddie offered, gently, fiddling with his hair. “I’m not going to judge you man, I’ve needed the bathroom light on since I was a kid. And after the shit you’ve seen?” He blew air through his lips, cutting a hand through the air.

And Steve knew that, had been there on some of those nights. The ones where Eddie kept his bedroom door open because sometimes the kid that still existed in his brain got scared of things that hadn’t happened in over a decade.

But it didn’t work the same for Steve. After so many years of not being afraid, of having no reason to be, he still found it almost impossible to sleep without total darkness. Like the damaged part of his brain was ringing alarm bells, but the older bits still recognised the safety in the shadows.

“It’s not that.” Steve admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling childish. There’s someone under the bed, he wanted to say. Could feel the words squeezing his throat like tails and vines and the hands trying to hurt. If I turn the lights off I don’t know what will happen.

God, his bat was under there– the one with the nails driven through it, crooked and rusted with old blood. Whoever was under there probably already had their hands wrapped around it, waiting for the cover of dark to use it.

There were lots of things under Steve’s bed. They weren’t always there at the same time, but the possibility of them was burned into the wooden slats holding his mattress up.

The Soviets had known his full name.

There was a lot you could find out just by knowing something like that, especially with a name like Harrington in a town like Hawkins. And yeah, Starcourt had burned down, half the base blown up, but there had been survivors because some of them had dragged Hopper off to Russia.

Which means there were still people out there who might know his name.

Most of Steve’s nightmares were set in that base.

Eddie was looking more worried the longer Steve went without saying anything, just standing next to the light switch and not doing anything. He bit the inside of his cheek, cracking the knuckles on one hand to assure his friend that he wasn’t being Vecna’d or anything.

He should check.

He’d probably look like a fucking weirdo but there was something under the fucking bed and there would be until he could make sure there wasn’t. It was a reckless sort of certainty that burned through his stomach, tight and cold around his throat.

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read the rest on ao3 'cause i didn't wanna post the full thing on here

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington has ptsd #steve harrington has anxiety #eddie loves him #they hold hands about it #my writing

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what-the-ship · 1 month

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Healing Touch

Here is my contribution to the rare pair that gnaws at my brainstem.

Obligatory sickfic. Tigerghost. TW: vomiting No beta, we die like Danny

Superheroes don’t get sick. Or so they like to tell themselves. Especially one Manuel Pablo Gutierrez O'Brian Equihua Rivera!

It wouldn’t be so bad if he were at his place in Miracle City. There he could be weak around his family. At Headquarters, that was a different story. There wasn’t a room dedicated to personal use except for Jimmy. It was his dimension after all. Timmy had been pressuring the genius into expanding to allow for at least one room to be used for sleeping. The idea was shot down every time. His brillant idea was taken from some popular space travel series where the lower decks slept in the hallway. Sure they got their own shelf but it was still a hallway at the end of the day. When Manny first saw it he was reminded of catacombs.

So when Manny woke up one random Thursday with a pounding headache and a sore throat all he could do was groan.

“Manny?” Inquired the voice of Timmy somewhere beyond his sight. When Manny went to answer he gave a dry, raspy cough. The cough hurt his stomach so bad he ended up throwing up on the floor. Since there was nothing in his stomach it somehow made it hurt even more. Timmy was now shouting and alarms were going off. Manny felt like crying as the sound drilled into his already-pounding head.

When he awoke there was something cool pressed against his forehead. It felt amazing. Allowing his more cat-like instincts to take over he nuzzled into the coolness. To his delight, a second soft coolness was placed on his neck. Curiosity winning he opened his eyes to investigate the source of delight. To his shock, he saw a pair of blue eyes staring down at him. Jet black and snow white hair framed the most delightful face.

“Ángel,” Manny whispered before closing eyes to get some more sleep. The next time he awoke his head was feeling much better. He looked around wondering where he was. It wasn’t his room in his dimension and it certainly wasn’t his shelf in the hallway.

“Oh you are awake,” Jimmy had entered the room without Manny noticing. He must still be out of it. He was dressed in a hazmat suit and carrying a clipboard. Trotting next to him was his robotic dog Goddard.

“Therometer.” Commanded the teen genius holding his hand out for Goddard to produce said item in his upturned hand. He then swiped the device across Manny’s forehead.

“Thirty-seven point four degrees centigrade.” Announced Jimmy as he made a note of it. “Not perfect but acceptable. If you are up for it, I can have some soup and crackers brought down.”

“Soup sounds good.” He really could go for his mom's sopa azteca right now. Manny was left alone again to look around the room. It looked like a barracks complete with metal bunk beds. He was currently on the bottom bunk at the moment. Hoping he could convince the person above him to switch places. He was always more of an up cat.

“Soups on!” Spongebob sang out as he danced into the room. He then sat down the trey on Manny’s lap. Manny gave a smile and a thanks as he looked over the meal. He frowned a little. It looked a little like caldo de pollo but not. Chicken bits and carrots checked out. The stringy noodles confused him slightly. There wasn’t much of a smell and the broth was far too clear. Not wanting to seem ungrateful he ate a spoonful.

Bland. He gave a smile and thanked the chef. Spongebob smiled before excusing himself. The second the door shut Manny set the whole tray on the floor in disgust. He could feign sickness for not finishing. Sipping the lukewarm water he debated on trying to get up or get some more sleep. Splitting the difference he located his phone to scroll lazily for a while. The door opened again and Manny instantly geared up his too-sick-to-eat act. To his surprise it was Danny. He was carrying a paper bag in both hands. His soft smile morphed into confusion at the sight of the tray on the floor.

“Not up for eating?” Danny frowned at the practically untouched now cold soup. Danny set down the bag to use the spoon to poke at the flimsy noodles. “Can’t say I blame you. Maybe you’re up for something different.”

Danny pulled out a styrofoam bowl with a plastic lid from the bag. He peeled off the lid releasing the smoky scent of pozole. Manny almost spilled the treasure in his excitement. He took a sip straight from the container as Danny fished out a spoon from the paper bag.

“Gracias guapo.”

“You’re welcome.”

Timmy entered a second later with a bulging backpack.

“Congratulations on getting us the Nap Room! I call top bunk.” Declared Timmy throwing his bag on one of the other metal bunk beds. Timothy Turner, ever the opportunist. Like the pre-evolution of a lawyer.

“Just wish you didn’t have to puke on the floor to get it.” Danny tacked on.

“Anything for my amigos.” Manny flashed a winning smile getting one back from the ghostly hero. “Speaking of hooking amigos up, where can I get some of those ice packs?”

“Ice packs?” Timmy paused in turning his bed into a nest. He was standing on the ladder as he spread out a small blanket. He had to twist his upper body to look back at the duo.

“Yeah. The ones from earlier. Oh, man. I would wear those things all night. They were so soft and perfect.” Manny stopped praising the ice packs as Danny’s face became redder and redder.

“Oh no I got you sick. Here,” Manny panicked slightly holding out his half-eaten meal. Danny politely declined as he made an excuse to leave.

“Oye I mean it. I could sleep with those things all night.”

“Oh I bet you could,” Timmy smirked. “All. Night. Long.”

“Isn’t it about time you go bother Jimmy?” Danny was now in his defensive posture.

“Not til two. Besides I am very interested in Manny’s story about how he could spend the night with-” Timmy’s speech was cut off by a carefully placed mini plasma shot right to his backside. It was just enough to cause the teen to give a yelp.

“Worth it.” Groaned the brunette through clenched teeth.

Danny had already left the room before Manny got his answer. Making a mental reminder he polished off his soup trying to recall the details of his strange dream about the angel.

#fanfic #fanfiction #nicktoons unite #danny phantom #timmy turner #jimmy neutron #manny rivera #tigerghost #sick fic

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astro-b-o-y-d · 7 months

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 2- Unsettling In

— — — — — — —

“Dibs on being the first Pines inside the Shack!”

The old floorboards creaked lightly under Mabel’s weight as she bounded through the door, pausing only to drop her bags by the staircase before she continued on towards the living room. “Aww, I’ve missed this place!”

She jumped from the small doorway step to the carpet, twirling on her toes like a ballerina before she gestured to the television set. “Hello, ancient TV that only plays local access channels~!” Her gesture moved to the large dinosaur skull in the middle of the room. “Hello, weird T-Rex skull that we use as a coffee table for some reason~!”

She waggled her finger at the aquarium. “Hello, giant aquarium tank that only sometimes has an animal in it~!” she said with a giggle. “You can’t hide from me forever, Sir. Wiggleton the Pink!”

From the nearby couch where she had seated herself and Waddles, Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Sir. Wiggleton the Pink?”

“That’s what I call Stan’s axolotl,” Mabel explained matter-of-factly. “He’s very sneaky, and likes to hide a lot. I only got a good look at him, like, once last year!”

“Maybe he sneaks out when nobody’s looking?” Wendy suggested, then snapped her fingers with inspiration. “Ooh, what if he’s actually some kinda secret agent, one who goes out and fights bad guys? And that's why it's so hard for anyone to spot him in the tank, ‘cause he’s not always in the tank!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Mabel agreed enthusiastically. “Maybe he’s part of a whole secret organization of secret-agent animals! And they all wear funny little hats!”

While they laughed in unison over the idea, more creaking from the hallway floorboards drew their attention to the doorway. A moment later, Dipper’s body was propped against the frame for support, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gulped down precious breaths of air.

Between the desperate attempts to catch his breath, he shot Mabel a sour look. “You know, most people might call ‘tripping your brother as he tries to pass you in the driveway’ something along the lines of—oh, I dunno, maybe something along the lines of—cheating?”

Mabel’s mouth curled into a coy little smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dipping Sauce~!” she said innocently. “Not my fault you don’t know how to avoid branches while you’re running.”

“You literally stuck out your leg as I was trying to pass you!” Dipper argued. “And then after I fell, you laughed about it once you were sure I wasn’t actually hurt and was only just mildly inconvenienced!”

From her spot, Wendy let out a cackle. “You tripped him? Brutal.”

“It was a branch!” Mabel insisted.

“A branch shaped like your leg!”

Mabel waved him away. “Oh, we can go on and on about things I did or didn’t do all we want—”

“You did do it.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway!” Mabel continued, tossing her arms up in the air. “I still called dibs on being the first Pines to step inside, and you can’t go against dibs!”

“She has a point,” a voice spoke up behind Dipper, seconds before Ford stepped into the room. “The International Dibs Protocol is highly respected across countless dimensions, with millions of interdimensional beings valuing the weight it holds when it comes to ownership over specific affairs.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “I believe at one point, there was even talk amongst the council members here in town about passing a law that would make adhering to said protocol mandatory. But the idea was scrapped before the House could ever lay an eye on it.”

“Yeesh, so this town’s just fine and dandy with people marryin’ woodpeckers or deciding ownership of a place based on whatever chump’s got the deed in their hands,” Stan called from out on the porch. “But you call dibs on something and suddenly that’s going too far—hey, hey! Knock it off, Soos, I’m not gonna look!”

He cast a miffed look to his right, where Soos had firmly remained throughout their entire walk up the driveway. His arms were spread out as wide as he could possibly get them, and he had even crab-walked up the porch beside Stan in an attempt to block something from his line of sight.

“Sorry, Mr. Pines,” he said, keeping his arms outstretched until both of them were safely inside the house. ”But I can’t risk you seeing anything on the other side of this building until I give everyone the tour later!”

Stan let out a gruff sigh as they joined everyone else in the living room. “Yeah, yeah, like I’m in any rush to jump right back into work stuff after a nine-month vacation.”

Soos gave him a pitiful look. “Wh-you mean you’re not excited for the tour of all the new exhibits and stuff?”

“...I said ‘right back into’, didn’t I?” Stan pointed out. “Gimme an hour, we’ll see where I’m at then.”

He moved to the couch, then paused with a look to Wendy. “They got all the rats outta this thing while we were gone, right?”

“Completely rat free,” she assured him, moving her hand to Waddles’ head for scritches. “Although you’re never gonna guess what happened after we chased the last of them out of the shack—”

“Well, that sounds like six voices,” a voice called from the kitchen, seconds before a woman peeked her head through the doorway. “Pretty sure that’s everyone, unless we’re also expecting the girls.”

“Negative,” Wendy replied, as Stan settled down next to her. “Mr. Pines put down a hard no on any sleepovers tonight. Well, any sleepovers with the under-fourteens, at least.”

“Dipper also put down a hard no,” Dipper added. “Also hey, Melody!”

“Melody! Hi!”

Mabel’s features lit up as Melody stepped out into the living room proper, and both twins rushed over to greet her further with a hug. “Hey, you guys!” she said, bending down to reciprocate. “Been a while, huh?”

“Sure has!” Dipper said with a hearty laugh.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Mabel added with equal amounts of enthusiasm. “How’ve you been?”

“I also think it’s nice to see you again!”

Before Melody could answer, all three suddenly found themselves lifted up from the ground. “I know we were only gone for, like, fifteen minutes or so,” Soos said, hugging all of them close to him. “But still, that’s enough time to miss someone, right?”

Despite most of her face being squished against his own, Melody smiled up at him. “Well, fifteen minutes is about the same amount of time it takes to complete Ladybug on Dancey-Pants Revolution—” She paused and wriggled an arm free to tick off her fingers. “—what, five times? Five and a half? Just saying, that feels like an eternity when you’re trying to hit a perfect combo, doesn’t it?”

“That is so true,” Soos said with a nod. “You have such a way with words, babe.”

A squeak of delight drew their attention to the teenagers smushed between their bodies. “Hehe, you guys are adorable!” Mabel piped up. “And nerdy!”

“Also you’re kind of squishing us,” Dipper added with a wheeze.

With an apologetic smile, Soos lowered the group back down to the floor. “Sorry, dudes! Got so caught up in giving Melody a hug, that I kinda missed you were there.”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” Mabel assured him as she straightened out her clothes. “Being squished like that made me feel like the ham and cheese in a lovey-dovey sandwich!”

She gave a nudge to her brother’s arm with her elbow. “Guess that makes Dipper the lettuce and tomatoes!”

“What? Why am I the vegetables?” Dipper asked.

Mabel shrugged with a smile. “Because even if they’re not the most exciting ingredients, it just doesn’t feel like a proper sandwich without them,” she explained, pressing her hands together as if she were forming a sandwich herself. “But you gotta put ‘em between the meat and cheese, otherwise their veggie juices get mixed in with the condiments. Then bread gets all soggy and fall-apart-y and the sandwich is just inedible at that point.”

“Okay first of all, rude and gross. Second of all, that is a very weird analogy which explains nothing.”

He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Although weirdly enough, it is making me hungry.”

“Good thing I got a head start on dinner before everyone got here,” Melody said. “In fact, I just checked the timer and there’s only a few minutes left before I need to pull it out of the oven—oh, by the way, lasagna from a box is fine with everyone, right?”

She directed her question both to the kids and to the group that had gathered by the couch, earning her a nod from Ford. “Fine with me. Meals that require minimal effort to prepare have sustained me since my college years, and I see no issue with continuing that trend now.”

“Long as there’s no fish involved, I’ll eat anything,” Stan assured her.

Wendy, who had distracted herself with scritching the spot between Waddles’ ears, looked to him. “Got sick of seafood out there on the open ocean, Mr. Pines?”

“Got sick of badly-prepared seafood.”

Stan shot a pointed look to his brother. “Apparently somebody can rip out the spine of a zombified fishman from the ‘Walking Bullhead Dimension’—”

“We’re gonna start this again, Stanley?” Ford interrupted, giving him an flat-but-amused look that implied they had discussed this topic countless times before.

“—but you give the guy a regular tuna to debone, and suddenly it’s all ‘Oh, this is ~soooo~ hard!’” Stan continued in a jestful tone. “‘I’m gonna make my twin brother nearly choke on a rib bone! Or two. Or five.’”

“Their spinal cords are more delicate than what I’m used to handling,” Ford insisted. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person—oh, uh, make some room?”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Stan made a gesture with his hand for Wendy to move. “Hey, scooch over and put the pig on the floor so we can all sit down.”

“I can take him off your hands now, Wendy,” Mabel said, holding her arms open. “Although he’ll probably end up on the floor anyway; I know he’s been dying to root around in the carpet for burrito bite crumbs again!”

While Wendy readjusted and passed Waddles back to his owner, Ford seated himself comfortably next to Stan. “As I was saying,” he continued. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person resembles our own more than that of a non-anthropomorphized fish from our dimension. This size increase in bone structure makes it far easier to get a grip on their spinal column and just—” He made a tearing motion with his hands. “—rip it straight from the body—”

He paused and looked to the younger twins. “Only when such drastic measures are necessary to take, of course. Had the dimension been populated by living anthropomorphized fish people, I would not have resorted to ripping out anyone’s spines.”

Stan lightly bumped his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “Heh, sounds like a buncha fancy-schmancy excuses from a guy who never learned how to properly work a pair of fish tweezers,” he said, making small, pinching motions with his fingers. “What’s wrong, Poindexter? Thought you were used to usin’ delicate sciencey tools out in the field with your dainty little sciencey grip.”

“Nothing about my science or my grip has been dainty in over thirty years, and I think you know that.”

“Yeah, tell that to the octopus babe you tried to hook up with off the coast of Australia! When’d she leave again, less than half-an-hour into the date?”

While Ford responded with his own playful fist to the arm—one that Stan cackled loudly at in return—Mabel knelt to the carpet and set Waddles at her side. “Aww, it’s nice to see you two getting along so well now!” she said sweetly. “Does that mean no more fighting? I mean, actual fighty-fighting and not play fighting?”

“Psh, please, let’s not go that far,” Stan replied, with a wave of his hand. “Of course we’re gonna fight, we’re siblings. Or are you forgetting how you tripped your brother out there in the driveway?”

“It was a bra~anch!” Mabel insisted in a singsong tone.

Dipper gave her a flat look. “Still gonna go with that excuse, huh?”

“Yeah-huh~! Also it’s not an excuse.”

With a wink to them, Stan snaked an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “But if anyone’s worried about a repeat of last year’s performance, don’t be!” he assured them. “Nine months of punching sea monsters and nabbing treasure from sirens have made us thick as thieves, just like old times!”

“While Stanley’s claims are a touch exaggerated, he’s not wrong,” Ford replied. “Despite our petty bickering over fish preparation, there’s nothing quite like spending months out on the open seas with someone to remind you of what’s really important in life. Sailing around the world on the adventure of a lifetime—”

He cast a small smile in his brother’s direction. “—well, it puts a lot of things in perspective.”

With a faux look of disgust, Stan pushed him away. “Ugh, why’d you have to go and make what I said all sappy? What, you wanna make the kids blow chunks on their first day back?”

While the kids giggled at this response, Ford nudged him in retaliation again. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, we could always go back to our petty fish arguments,” he said with a smug look. “You’ve harped on my inability to properly debone a fish, yet you act as if you didn’t completely butcher the deboning of those seatrout we caught along the coast of Florida.”

“Hey, hey, I plead the Florida loophole!” Stan insisted. “Which clearly states that if anything funky happens within the Florida boundaries, it was caused by the fact that we were near Florida.”

He folded his arms firmly across his chest. “Can’t be blamed for anything when we’re sailin’ through territory that could give this town a run for its money in weirdness.”

“Oh, you two were down in Florida?” Melody piped up. “That’s exactly where Abuelita headed a few days ago!”

“She won a free trip in a bingo game,” Soos explained with a look of pride. “Man, you should’ve seen how jealous Agnes and Bertha got when she held up her winning card—”

The ringing of a timer from the kitchen turned everyone’s heads to the doorway. “Oh, sounds like the food’s done,” Melody said. “Better go ahead and start plating.”

“Need an extra hand?” Soos asked.

“Mmm, I think I can manage slicing up lasagna by myself,” she assured him, before casting another look at the group. “Besides, I know how excited you were for everybody to get here, and I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from everything just to help me slop some food on a plate.”

Soos moved his hands to her shoulders with a solemn expression. “I love you. So much.”

With a chuckle, she leaned up to kiss his cheek before turning back to the kitchen. Once she disappeared out of sight, Soos let out a warm sigh. “Isn’t she the best?” he asked to no one in particular.

Stan turned to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “So them bein’ all lovey-dovey with each other,” he said. “Is that a rare thing or am I gonna have to actually start stockin’ up on eyeball bleach for the summer?”

“Told you to keep it in mind earlier,” Wendy said, hand on her hip. “Also, you call that ‘lovey-dovey’? Kisses and random compliments for the other when they’re not even in the room barely crack a three or four on the Soos-Melody Romance scale.”

She tilted her head in thought. “Though I guess it’s been more about quantity than quality lately. Can’t go five minutes without one of them trying to smother the other person in affection because of…reasons.”

She raised a finger to her mouth before casting a look over at Soos, who smiled and pressed a finger to his own mouth in return. Leaving the Pines family to watch them with raised eyebrows and tilted heads. “Well, that’s not cryptic or anything,” Ford said.

“Yeah, what’re you two hiding?” Dipper asked.

“C’mon, spill the beans!” Mabel added, with a quick glance around the living room before she followed up with: “...If there were any opened cans of beans lying around, you know I’d poke ‘em over for dramatic effect!”

“Hehe, that’d be so funny,” Soos said amusedly. “It’d be like…a callback or something! But sorry, dudes, no beans of any kind can be spilled at the moment. Whether it’s beans of the secret variety, or just the ones in a can.”

“Why not?” Mabel asked.

“I mean, I think we ran out of them yesterday so you can’t spill what—”

“The secret part, Soos,” Dipper clarified.

“Oh, that!” Soos pressed a hand to the back of his neck with a tender look. “Well, it’s kind of a big deal, y’know? And I wanna wait until Mel and I can tell you together.”

“Yeesh, this secret of yours must be big big,” Stan said with a loose chuckle. “What, are the two of you getting married or some…thing—”

The mild amusement in his tone faded as the punchline he was waiting for never seemed to come, while the giddiness in Soos’ expression only seemed to blossom further. His cheeks had brightened to a light shade of red and he’d pressed hand over his mouth as he tried—and failed—to hide the smile that was quickly taking over his entire face.

Wendy also slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile—her entire upper half trembling as if she were holding back the biggest laugh of her life—while a deafening silence of realization overtook the rest of the Pines family.

“Alright, who wants the first two plates?”

It was Melody who finally broke the silence, having returned to the doorway with a paper plate of lasagna in each hand. “Again, I would’ve prepared something better for a welcome-back dinner, but with Abuelita out of town and the party tomorrow—”

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Mabel’s words were punctuated by an ear-piercing scream—one that earned slapped hands to the ears of everyone except for Melody and Soos—and she flung herself around the neck of the latter to hug him tightly. “You guys are getting married! I can’t believe it!”

Dipper hurried to join in the hugging of Soos with a hearty laugh. “Congratulations, Soos! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Can I be the flower girl?” Mabel prattled on. “Can Waddles be the ring bearer?!”

“What?! Why Waddles?” Dipper asked, then looked to Soos hopefully. “Can I be the ring bearer?!”

Melody stared at the sight with a look of mild confusion, to which Soos shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, babe,” he said meekly, and slung an arm around both of them. “Guess my poker face needed a little work.”

She chuckled in response, and went to set the plates down on the t-rex skull. “Well, I guess that’s one way to spill the beans.”

“YEAH! I spilled the beans!” Mabel said delightedly, pumping a fist in the air. “The metaphorical beans!”

“I mean, technically Stan was the one to spill them,” Wendy said, flashing Stan a grin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, dude, it was priceless!”

This earned her a pair of narrowed eyes from Stan. “Hey, hey, what’s with you and the jokes today? You should be a little more respectful to the guy who used to sign your paychecks.”

“Mmm, are you going to be signing my paychecks again now that you’re back?”

Stan opened his mouth to respond, before the implication behind her reply snapped his attention right back to Soos and Melody. “Woah, woah, hold on, go back a sec—you’re telling me that you two are actually tyin’ the knot?”

Melody held out her hand, an engagement ring with a beautiful, purple gemstone resting comfortably on her finger. “End of the summer’s our set date,” she confirmed. “Oh, not the end end of summer; Soos told me that the kids’ birthday was the last day of August, and he didn’t want to take the spotlight away from their special day with our special day.”

“Aww, what? Booo!” Mabel protested as she hopped down from Soos’ arms. “Come on, we can share the day with you guys! Right, Dip?”

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed. “If there’s anything that’ll make our birthday better, it’ll be sharing it with your wedding day!”

Soos pressed a hand to each of their heads with a warm smile. “Aww, man, now I kinda wish we did!” he said, with a hopeful look to Melody. “You don’t think we could—”

“Normally I’d say yes in a heartbeat,” Melody said. “But we’ve already booked the photography, and you know how they are about rescheduling at the last second.”

“But don’t you guys have three months?” Dipper pointed out.

“To a wedding photographer, rescheduling earlier than five months counts as last minute,” Melody explained. “Especially if your set date’s in the summertime; they’re usually pretty swamped from June to the middle of September.”

“You shoulda gone for a Vegas wedding,” Stan said. “You get in, get out in an hour tops and all you need is a witness.”

He crossed his arms with a scowl. “And I guess you’ll need a safe for your valuables, in case the broad’s only marryin’ you for your winnings and plans on running off with ‘em in the middle of the night. …On second thought, don’t get married in Vegas.”

“Well, thankfully I don’t have any plans to go running off with any of Soos’s valuables, so there’s nothing to worry about there,” Melody said, taking a look around the room. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the majority of his valuables are sitting right in this very room, and I don’t think I could carry most of you.”

This earned her a chorus of ‘aww’s from the kids and Soos, and a retching gag from Stan. “Yeesh, forget the eye bleach thing, I’m gonna need something to scrub out my ears with after hearing that.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Wendy said, rising to her feet. “You still want some help with the food, Mel? I’ll do it just so Mr. Pines has an excuse to stop complaining about all the mushy stuff.”

Melody pressed a hand to her mouth to try and stifle back another laugh. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, and gestured for Wendy to follow.

While Wendy hurried after her—Stan glowering at her until she was out of his line of sight—the kids continued to swarm Soos with questions. “So where are you guys holding the wedding?” Mabel asked, hands folded together. “Ooh, lemme guess! Uh, uh—the arcade? No, that’s not romantic enough. Hoo-Ha Owl’s Pizzamatronic Jamboree? Since it’s where you had your first date?”

“Here at the Mystery Shack?” Dipper guessed. “Or, you know, a regular church?”

Soos pointed at him. “Ding ding ding, Dipper got it! Or, uh, he was right with the first guess.” He tossed his hands in the air. “We’re gonna have it here at the Mystery Shack! We’re gonna make some space outside, maybe put the alter over in that spot by the totem pole—it’s gonna look so good!”

“Well, I know I’m happy for both of you,” Ford spoke up from his spot on the couch. “I mean, I might not know either of you very well. But from the little I’ve seen of you two together, this is clearly a big deal and I’m honored that we get to share this opportunity with you.”

Soos turned to him with a surprised, yet touched expression. “Wh—aww, thanks, Dr. Pines,” he said, placing a hand on his heart. “That actually means a lot, coming from you.”

Ford blinked in confusion. “It…does?”

“Well…yeah,” Soos said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I know you didn’t plan for this place to become the Mystery Shack when you built it. But because it became that, I was able to meet Mr. Pines, and then Dipper and Mabel—” He began to tick off his fingers. “—and they were able to help me learn how to get a date, which led me to meeting Melody at the mall—”

He paused, looking to his hand. “Hey, should I count the whole ‘killer video game girlfriend’ thing in there somewhere, or was that more just a…thing that happened and isn’t really connected to all of this?”

“Definitely more of a side thing,” Mabel said. “Like, it happened, but I think connecting it back to the shack is a bit of a stretch.”

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said with a smile in his direction. “So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“This wouldn’t be possible without help from our friend here!”

Ford’s smile vanished, nails gripping the arm of the couch tighter than he’d intended as the shrill, high-pitched sound of Bill’s voice echoed through his mind. Cruel tauntings mixed with the vicious laughter of his surrounding henchman, all while he struggled desperately against the invisible binds that held him in the air—

“Grunkle Ford, is everything alright?”

Mabel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, a expression of worry painted across her features. Not only hers, but Dipper was giving him a mildly concerned look as well.

Ford let out a slow exhale of air through his nose to steady himself. It was just a horrible, fleeting memory, as were all his memories of Bill. Outside of his nightmares, he had managed to keep a lid on most of them for the past nine months whenever they managed to snake their way to the front of his mind.

That’s all it was, just another bad memory. No need to dwell on it, especially not now.

“I’m fine,” he reassured the rest of the group with a smile. “I was just about to say that I don’t know if I would go that far with the compliments. I mean, Stanley’s the one who put all the time and effort into making this place what it is today, isn’t he?”

He looked to his right, an identical pair of eyes meeting his own as the older Pines twins stared at each other in silence.

While he and Stan had only been reunited for less than a year, falling back into the habit of picking up on Stan’s mannerisms had almost been second instinct for Ford. Despite the forty year gap between their teenhood and the present, so much of the way that Stan presented himself hadn’t changed in the slightest.

So naturally, Ford had also picked back up the ability to distinguish when Stan was hiding his displeasure with a situation.

It didn’t happen often; Stan had always been the kind of person to openly and fervently vocalize his complaints at the slightest inconvenience. A behavioral habit he had possessed since they were young boys—such a thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nostalgia rippling through Ford’s chest—and one that had clearly stayed with him throughout the years—more uncomfortable waves in his chest of a different sort.

So whenever Stan made the choice to to keep his grievances to himself, it usually meant there was more bubbling under the surface. More than he was willing to let anyone see.

And the way that his features had shifted, jaw clenched and a rigid look behind his eyes that was easy to miss if you blinked—

“Yeah, the heck am I? Chopped liver?”

Before Ford could think to question Stan, he’d already turned back to the group with an affronted look. “Or are you knuckleheads forgettin’ who even started this whole business to begin with?”

This sent a wave of laughs through the trio. “Of course we didn’t, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel assured him. “We’d never forget about you!”

“Of course not!” Dipper added with a laugh.

“Not for a second!” Soos added. “In fact, I was actually about to ask you—”

“More plates coming through~!”

Melody and Wendy reentered the living room, a plate in each of their hands. “Alright, dorks, come and get these before I eat them,” Wendy joked, passing both plates in her hands to the younger twins.

“And one for you,” Melody said, handing one of hers to Soos with another kiss on the cheek.

This got a small hum of delight from Soos, which was accompanied by another eye roll from Stan as he leaned forward to take one of the plates off the skull table. “Eugh, on second thought, I don’t want any sorta credit for this mush fest,” he said, bringing it to his lap. “In fact, unless you got more happy news to tell us, I’m turnin’ my attention to this mush fest instead.”

To emphasize his pun, he brought the back of his fork down onto the lasagna with an audible squishing sound, before shoving a large bite into his mouth. “‘Sides, the sooner we eat, the sooner we get to see Soos’s big, fancy shack tour, right?”

His point seemed to encourage the kids to dig into their own plates as well, although not without bombarding the happy couple with more wedding-related questions. Wendy, in the meanwhile, had realized that she was the only person left without any food and headed back to the kitchen to fetch herself a plate of her own.

Leaving the remaining plate on the dinosaur skull, one growing colder by the minute, for Ford to take.

He leaned forward to pull it to his lap as well, unable to resist giving Stan a glance out of the corner of his eye as he did. Stan’s expression had returned to a more relaxed look as he dug into his food, any previous signs of distress now nothing more than a memory.

Settling back into place with his plate, Ford turned his attention back to the group—specifically Dipper and Mabel as they laughed along with whatever Soos was telling them through a mouthful of lasagna.

None of them had expressed any further concern for Stan’s behavior after it had happened, and the three of them had spent far more time with Stan than he had in the past thirty years. Sure, the two of them had spent the past nine months together out at sea, but the kids had gotten to know him over the course of the previous summer. And Soos had practically spent all of his childhood and young-adulthood around him.

If they had failed to noticed anything was wrong with him, did that mean that Ford had misinterpreted his reaction completely? If one of Stan’s closest employees and family members—people who had been around Stan for far longer than he had in the past few decades—hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him, then maybe there was actually nothing to notice at all?

“Ho-ho! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart!”

…Then again, he did have experience in not picking up on the obvious.

His grip on the fork tightened as he stabbed it into the remaining lasagna on his plate, letting out another slow exhale in the process. It was like Stan had said earlier at the bus stop. If the two of them showed any signs of stress regarding the events of the previous summer, then it was sure to stress out the kids as well.

He raised the fork to his mouth. And it was like he had said; It was a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over, and for them to start over together.

“We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

“We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

If there was anything truly wrong with Stan, he would say something. They could talk things out, find a solution together.

As he bit down on the lasagna, however, he couldn’t stop his gaze from uncertainly shifting back to his brother.

—right?

— — — — — — — —

“Remind us again why we’re wearin’ blindfolds?” Stan asked.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Mabel piped up, and reached her hands out in front of her to blindly grasp at the air. “Are you going to make Grunkle Stan drive us somewhere with his blindfold on?”

“I strongly advise against anything of the sort,” Ford said quickly.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Soos just wants us to be surprised by all the new stuff he’s added to the shack,” Dipper pointed out, and looked towards where he had heard Soos’s voice. “Isn’t that right, Soos? …I think I’m looking at you, I can’t actually tell.”

“You got it, dude!” Soos said, giving him a thumbs up before adding as an afterthought: “By the way, you can’t see it but I gave you a thumbs up!”

Dipper gave him a thumbs up in return, while Stan folded his arms across his chest. “Yeesh, with how much you’re hyping this thing up, it better end with a boatload of cash.”

He flipped his thumb in the direction of the parked car and boat situated a short distance from the group. “And don’t think I don’t know how much a boatload is, we got the Stan-O’-War 2 parked right over there for reference.” A pause. “I’m pretty sure it’s over there, at least.”

“It is,” Soos assured him. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

Dipper gave a nod. “We’re ready, Soos!”

“Yeah, knock us dead, Mr. Mystery!” Mabel added encouragingly.

After a quick glance down at the stack of flashcards in his hands, Soos looked back to the waiting Pines with a big smile. “Greetings, ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted tourists,” he began in a rehearsed tone. “First of all, the Mystery Shack family would like to offer you a hearty welcome to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon—”

He winked at them. “Or I guess I should really say welcome back to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon! …‘Cause, like, you all came back to the town after leaving—”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re really gonna give us the entire pitch first, huh?”

From off to the side where her and Wendy were situated, Melody perked up at his remark. “He’s been waiting ages to show it to you,” she called to them. “He barely got any sleep last night out of excitement!”

“I kept opening my eyes and hoping it was finally morning,” Soos admitted with a bashful smile.

“Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always saying that buttering up the chumps that come through here is a good way to get them to toss more money at us?” Wendy added. “Why do you care if he gives you the entire pitch first?”

“Hey, never said I didn’t approve of it,” Stan clarified. “I especially like the part where he refers to the staff as a family.”

He gave a theatrical wave of his hands. “Paints a mental picture in those chumps’ minds. A picture that says ‘Hey! The people at this place must be really close if they’re callin’ themselves a family! And if they’re a family, they must have a bunch of hungry kids to feed! Let’s toss all the money in our wallets at them…for the children!’”

“Probably helps that you actually made us dress up like ‘the abnormally hungry twins’ for an exhibit last year.” Dipper cast a flat look towards Stan, then to verbally emphasize his point: “Which I will not be doing again this year.”

Stan waved him away with a scoff. “‘Course not; those extra inches on your height won’t make you pass as anything more than a starving teenager. And people aren’t as taken in by teenagers in need as they are kids.”

“An unfortunate fact, but a true one,” Wendy chimed in again. “Now shh, Soos worked really hard on preparing this speech!”

“Thanks, Wendy,” Soos said. “But I don’t mind any interruptions, especially not from Mr. Pines! If there’s anything my online forums taught me, it’s that running a business is like writing a fanfiction: healthy criticism informs me of the areas I can improve on, and makes me feel good about the areas I’m already doing well in!”

He tapped his chin. “There’s also a lot of overlap between the two when it comes to people who want to learn about how to romance a werewolf,” he mused with a chuckle. “Turns out the secret is just buying a lot of beef jerky, they go nuts for the stuff—”

“Keep it on track, Soos,” Stan interrupted with a roll of his hand.

“Gravity Falls, Oregon,” Soos continued. “A mysterious and strange town, full of mysterious and strange beings. Whether they’re human, animal, vegetable, mineral, something in between or something else entirely, the one thing they all have in common is that they call this town home.”

He tossed an arm in the air to gesture at the building behind him. “And lucky for you, our totally awesome family here at the Mystery Shack is happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the…not-mysterious—”

He made a so-so motion with his hand. “This part’s a little rough, but we’re working on smoothing it out. I know there’s a good M-word that would fit there, I just can’t remember off the top of my head.”

Ford pressed a hand to his mouth, before he spoke up with a suggested: “Mundane?”

Soos’s features brightened with inspiration and he shot a finger gun in Ford’s direction. “Boom! That’s the one!” he said, fetching a pencil from his pocket. “Thanks, Dr. Pines! …By the way, I shot you a finger gun. If you don’t know what that is—‘cause of all the time away from our dimension—I can tell you! It’s when you take your finger and—”

“No need to explain, Soos,” Ford assured him. “The concept speaks for itself.”

While Soos scribbled a few edits onto his flashcard, Melody raised a hand from her spot. “Sorry to interrupt your speech, Soos, but I just want to make sure I’m getting things right now that everyone’s here.”

She pointed a finger at the Stans, shifting it back and forth between them. “Mr. Pines is the founder of the Mystery Shack and Dr. Pines is the one who actually owns it, right?” she asked with a shrug. “Or—well, I know that technically we own it since we have the deed to the building, that’s such a weird law for this town to have—”

“You have no idea,” Stan added.

“—but you get what I mean, right? Dr. Pines is the name on the deed?”

“I gotcha, and you’re right!” Soos clarified. “Mr. Pines founded the mystery shack and Dr. Pines is the one on the deed.”

He turned to face her completely. “If it helps, you could try remembering it like this: Mr. for mystery and Dr. for deed to the shack!”

Melody considered this for a moment. “Oh, that does help, actually. It’s like a stalactite/stalagmite kind of thing.”

“You could also just call them Stan and Ford,” Mabel added. “Ooh, or Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford like we do!”

“I mean, technically they aren’t her great-uncles,” Dipper pointed out. “So that wouldn’t really make sense.”

With a tut, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Please, the title of Grunkle is less about being a great-uncle, and more of a state of mind.”

“...Yeah, the state of mind where you’re a great-uncle,” Dipper said pointedly. “Hence the combination of the two words.”

“You can call us whatever you please,” Ford spoke up. “Clearly there are plenty of options to choose from, and all are accurate to some degree.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “Although I will admit that it’s been a long time since anyone has referred to me as Dr. Pines. It was far more common for people to call me that for the first few years after I finished college.”

“You know what, I’ll experiment with a few different names, see what sticks,” Melody said, then turned her attention back to Soos. “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead and keep going.”

“Never hurts to double check,” Soos assured her. “Plus since the two of them are part of the Shack’s history, it doubles as a tour question! Ooh, we should write that into the speech, too—”

There was another pause as he scribbled something down on his flashcards. “See, that’s another reason I wanted to show you guys the tour as soon as possible,” he said to the Pines. “I’m adding so much that’s gonna knock the next group of tourists that hears it on their butts! Okay, let’s see, where was I—”

“Mysterious and mundane,” Dipper reminded him helpfully.

“Thanks, dude! As I was saying before, we here at the Mystery Shack are happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the mundane—”

He playfully waggled a finger in Ford’s direction, before tossing his free hand in the air. “And hopefully after today’s tour, you’ll all be able to walk across that bridge alongside us! Welcome to the Mystery Shack!”

He squinted down at his flashcards again. “Is…is that good for a welcoming statement?” he asked. “Did I do a good job? Do you feel invested to learn more about what awaits in this fine establishment?”

“Oh, I know if I had a wallet full of money, I’d be tossing fistfuls at you right now,” Mabel said supportively, and dug a hand into the pocket of her skirt. “Ooh, wait, I might have some glitter I can toss instead—”

After blindly feeling around for a moment, she pulled her hand out with a with a disappointed look. “Aw, nope, false alarm,” she said, opening her palm to reveal a squished, blue blob. “Just my wad of that sticky stuff teachers use to hang up posters that I stole over the school year~!”

She dropped it in her pocket again and gave the side a pat. “Just gonna tuck that back where it belongs~!”

“And I’m always ready to learn more,” Dipper added. “So you don’t need to do much to convince me!”

“Sounds like a yes to me, Mr. Mystery,” Melody said. “We good to move on to the next part of this tour?”

“You know it!” Soos said, before looking back to the Pines. “Okay so that part of the speech would normally be followed up with me leading everyone over to the exhibits area and showing all of them off.”

His gaze moved to the Stans. “But I know you wanted a quiet evening without tourists or sleepovers or parties—”

“We did,” Stan confirmed.

“I didn’t,” Mabel argued with a pout. “I’ll bet Candy and Grenda would’ve had so much fun on the tour!”

“Oh, they’ve taken it many times!” Soos assured her. “They’re practically honorary employees at this point, and sometimes they even help with the new exhibits!”

At this information, Mabel’s pout was immediately replaced with a cutesy smile and she squished her hands to her cheeks. “Aww, of course they do! Can we see some of the ones they helped with?”

“Well, uh—like I was saying, we knew Mr. Pines wanted at least one evening before all the loud stuff,” Soos said. “So we ended tours early for the day and sent everyone from the exhibits home.”

The Pines exchanged a series of confused, blindfolded looks, before Dipper vocalized their confusion with an: “Everyone?”

Soos looked to Melody and Wendy, who nodded in unison. “We sent everyone home,” he continued to the Pines. “But we still wanted to give you all a taste of the kind of tours we’d normally give on a regular basis! So Melody had the brilliant idea to leave out the empty displays and do a fake tour before cleanup!”

He gestured for them to follow. “If you really want to know more, you’re gonna have to come look for yourselves~! And to look for yourselves, you’re gonna have to follow me!”

“Refusing to explain further until we take the tour for ourselves?” Stan gave a proud nod. “Good, good, you’re reelin’ us in…”

“Uh, Soos?” Dipper said, and pointed to his blindfold. “How can we follow you if you can’t see?”

Soos froze, and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, duh, forgot about that!” he said, and thought for a moment. “Uh…just carefully follow the sound of my voice and footsteps?”

He began to walk backwards, making wide gesturing motions with his hands as they blindly followed him. “Alright, dudes, just keep walking forward—oop, careful of that crack in the ground, Dipper! Okay, just a little further—”

“Still don’t understand why we can’t just take the blindfolds off,” Stan said, taking a few bold steps forward—

—and letting out a grunt of pain as he stepped on a small rock. “Also, since when did Soos know to call you Dr. Pines?” he asked, kicking the rock to the side. “Don’t remember you ever tellin’ him to do that.”

He directed the last remark at Ford, who was carefully toeing the dirt in front of him before taking a step. “Well, I did mention my college years back when I first stepped out of the portal,” he reminded Stan. “Perhaps he took that fact and came to the conclusion that using the Dr. prefix would be appropriate, given my numerous PhDs.”

Stan’s expression shifted for a moment. “Oh yeah, that did happen, didn’t it,” he said, before shaking his head. “Yeah, given your whole science guy thing, I’ll bet he woulda called you Dr. Pines even if you didn’t have the credentials for it.”

“I would’ve!” Soos confirmed helpfully.

“Ooh, Mabel just had a fun idea!” Mabel piped up, and pressed her hands together. “What if we called you Dr. Grunkle Ford?”

She smiled cutely in Ford’s direction, despite being unable to see him. “I’ll bet one of those PhDs is from mastering the study of Great-Uncle-ing, isn’t it? Hmm~?”

“Well, if we’re getting into the specifics,” Ford began. “The field of studies I majored in were biology, archaeology—dabbled in Hyper-Advanced Engineering and Fifth-Dimensional Calculus for three semesters, deeply regret trading the rest for an extra semester of Applied Quantum Phase Theory—”

He paused. “Oh, that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

Mabel let out a giggle. “The PhD part was, the Dr. Grunkle Ford part was not. That was also not a ‘no’ so I’m gonna tuck that away for later.”

She made a motion to grab something out of the air, and pretended to drop it into her pocket. “And just ‘cause you can’t see it, I grabbed the nickname out of the air and dropped it into my pocket,” she explained, patting her skirt. “It’s resting right next to my blob of sticky poster stuff as we speak.”

“Hey, Soos, are we able to take off our blindfolds yet?” Dipper asked.

“Just a little further ahead—ooh, okay, stop, stop!”

Soos came to a stop himself, smile wider than ever. “Alright, esteemed guests! You may now remove your blindfolds and behold the wonders the Shack has to offer! …Or, at least, get an idea of what the Shack has to offer when we’re not closed!”

Four pairs of hands met cloth as the Pines reached up to lower their blindfolds and take in the sight before them.

The area situated between the shack and the edge of the woods was reminiscent of a carnival after all the guests had gone home for the day—the grass a tamped-down mess of discarded pamphlets and trash, and a wide selection of empty displays surrounded them on all sides.

To their left stood a tall aquarium that stretched around ten by ten square feet, filled nearly to the brim with placid water. Further ahead was a lengthy presentation stage, littered in the remains of unidentifiable objects made of wood, stone—anything that looked like it would’ve been a challenge for a regular human to destroy.

Ahead of that was an artificial recreation of a magical forest glenn, one perfect for a unicorn to kneel before in a graceful and elegant fashion. A series of perches for winged creatures both big and small. A small pet bed the perfect size for a plaidypus. A collection of scattered Pitt Cola cans near a skateboarding ramp covered in massive, yeti-like footprints and tire tracks.

Empty display after empty display surrounded the Pines family as they looked around, each a clear indicator of what beings would normally occupy them during business hours.

And if the sight wasn’t enough, Soos was happy to confirm it as he lead them forward: “Now, this is our Main Exhibit Area,” he said, and gestured around himself. “Any live beings for these attractions would normally be gathered here for their demonstrations—”

“Live beings?” Dipper asked with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes. “As in we’ve started including actual, real monsters and creatures and stuff?”

“You know it, dude!” Soos said.

Mabel smooshed her face against the side of the large, glass tank, pupils darting back and forth while questions spilled out of her mouth at breakneck speed: “Is this a mermaid tank? How many mermaids are here? What are they like? …Are any of them Mermando?”

“Reminder that you’re in a relationship,” Dipper said.

Mabel pulled her face back with an audible pop, before giving her brother a pointed stare. “I wasn’t asking so I could date him again! It’d just be nice to catch up with an old friend!”

She moved a hand to her forehead, rubbing the spot where skin had met glass. “Besides, you act like Dev wouldn’t be cool with being in a polyamorous relationship with a mermaid.”

“...You know, that is probably something he’d be cool with.”

“Soos said he had a feeling you’d like the mermaid tank,” Melody said, coming up beside them. “And Wendy had a feeling that you’d love to see me jump into it.”

Mabel stared up at her with a grave look. “I would love nothing more.”

“Called that one,” Wendy said with a smug grin.

Using the ladder near them, Melody climbed up and onto the wooden platform on top of the tank, pausing only for a moment to fiddle with something in the very center. After a few seconds, she lifted the half she was not kneeling on upwards and held it still for the group to see.

Rather than being made completely out of wood like the other half, the ‘lid’ was made up of sturdy, steel bars with gaps between them. Like the bars of a jail cell, if the entire jail cell had been laid on its back and made of glass.

“We like to close and lock the lid between mermaid demonstrations,” she explained to the Pines family. “Keeps any bold tourists from trying to climb inside.”

“You lock your mermaids up?” Mabel asked, hands pressed to her mouth in horror.

“Wha—oh, no, don’t worry!” Melody quickly assured her. “We only lock it up once Mitch is outside of it and in his portable tank—hey, Soos, Wendy, can you guys—”

“Oh, yeah, one sec.”

Both Soos and Wendy hurried over to the opposite end of the tank and held out their arms, as if preparing to catch something out of the air. Once they were in place, Melody arched the lid up and over towards the side where they stood. While it quickly swung downwards at the two of them, they stood firm as they caught it in their arms, before gently guiding it to rest against the side of the tank.

Looking pleased, Melody turned her attention back to the kids. “Alright, I’m not even gonna try to do a proper mermaid dive into this thing because there’s a good chance I might break my neck,” she said. “So are we fine with a cannonball instead?”

“Cannonball! Cannonball!” Dipper and Mabel chanted in unison.

“Cannonball!” Soos added with just as much enthusiasm.

“Sounds like a yes to me!” Melody said, and took a small step back from the gap. “Get your cameras ready!”

Mabel held up her cell phone with a bright smile, before taking a cautious step back from the tank. “For safety measures,” she explained. “Don’t want what happened to Dipper’s phone to happen to mine~!”

“There was a chicken in science class, caught on fire and set off the sprinklers…” He shrugged in mild annoyance. “I had to get a new phone, it was a whole thing—”

“Shshshsh,” Mabel said, taking one hand off her phone to wave him quiet. “We can exchange cool stories after the tour! Cannonball time!”

“Oh, right—go for it, Melody!”

And with that confirmation, Melody took a deep breath jumped up and over the open side of the tank, folding her body into a cannonball shaped before she sank down into the water. Water that splashed up and out, soaking the grass around the tank and the toes of anyone who hadn’t followed Mabel’s example and backed up to safety.

While Melody breached the surface and swam to the tank’s side, Soos looked back down to his flashcards. “As you can imagine, normally a trick like this would be done by our hired merteen, Mitch,” he explained. “He would do a few tricks, explain a few of the basics of being a merperson, and then answer a few questions from the audience about being a mermaid and stuff.”

Melody propped her folded arms over the side of the tank. “And since I’m not an actual mermaid, I can’t really answer any real mermaid questions,” she said. “Or, at least, not as well as someone who’s been one their entire lives. But if anyone’s got any about how the exhibit works in other ways—”

“And Mabel’s hand is already in the air.”

Dipper flicked a thumb towards his sister, who was waving her arm about so frantically that it was a miracle that it didn’t go flying right off her body. Melody smiled and gestured to her with a damp hand. “Go ahead, Mabel.”

“Because I didn’t get any answers before, I repeat my questions from earlier,” Mabel said. “How many mermaids are here? What are they like?”

She turned her nose up at Dipper. “And would there happen to be an old friend of mine by the name of Mermando among them?” she asked. “One I am not interested in dating again, but one I would like to say hello to, despite what a certain someone might think—”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?” Dipper asked.

“Ehhh, we only got the one merman and I doubt you’d be interested in dating him,” Wendy answered. “He’s kinda dull, one of those beach-dude types who’s overly obsessed with surfing and sun…”

She flicked a thumb towards the skating ramp. ”Gets along pretty well with the Abominable Bro-men who hang out at the halfpipe, though.”

“Speaking of which, he headed down to the California coast for the summer,” Soos said. “Apparently he’s got a lot of family down there—”

“Makes sense,” Dipper said with a nod.

“Totally tracks,” Mabel added.

“—which means that the only mermaid exhibit you’ll get to see for the next three months is Melody’s,” Soos continued. “Unless another one applies for a job soon, that is. ‘Course we’ll still need to check their resume, confirm their resources are legitimate—”

“Which could happen,” Melody said, as she pulled herself up onto the edge of the tank. “I’ve got a couple of interviews lined up.”

She looked towards the older Pines twins. “What about you two? Got any mermaid questions for me?”

“I’m afraid any questions I might still have about mermaids would only be able to be answered by actual mermaids,” Ford said, and looked towards the rest of the displays. “And I assume the same applies to the rest of the exhibits.”

He cast them both a smile. “But I’m in full support of this method of showcasing them! I mean, using the supernatural beings of Gravity Falls as willing exhibits, and providing a chance for everyone to grow accustomed to each other in a neutral setting?”

He tossed his hands in the air. “All with education lessons about each creature added to the mix? Quite the scientific approach to this sort of thing, color me very impressed!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines,” Melody said. “You and the kids, of course.”

Once again, Ford found himself bewildered by the sudden praise and he tilted his head with a curious look. “Care to explain?”

“See, I spent sooooo much time with Dipper and Mabel last year,” Soos explained. “And they spent sooooo much of their time doing lots of cool, mystery stuff! Whether it was fighting some big monster or just trying to find out more about the super-mysterious author guy who wrote the journal that Dipper found in the woods—”

He once again pointed at Ford with a playful grin, before continuing: “—we learned about a lotta weird dudes! And with the town coming together and everything after Weirdmageddon, that meant a lotta those weird dudes were walking around in broad daylight. Which meant a lotta tourists started seeing those weird dudes walking around in broad daylight!”

“And as most tourists do, plenty had questions about them,” Melody continued from the water tank. “So with the Shack being one of the most popular locations in town, some talk was thrown around about us providing a space for those beings to answer their questions!”

“It probably helps that a lot of those weird dudes hid in the Mystery Shack during Weirdmageddon,” Wendy added. “So you know, didn’t take a lot of convincing to get them involved, since they kinda consider it a safe haven now.”

“That’s so cool!” Dipper piped up excitedly.

“It’s brilliant,” Ford agreed. “During my years of research, I spent so long studying all the strange and mysterious beings of this town. How they came to exist, how they functioned—”

He placed a hand to the side of the tank. “Not just them but the weirdness that surrounded the town as a whole. Why all of it was so drawn to this tiny, Oregon town out of anywhere else in the world—”

“Imagine it, Sixer—a whole dimension of weirdness! One where the strangest and most bizarre beings the Multiverse has to offer call home! All waiting for someone as brilliant as you to pop on over and show the world what they—and you—can do!”

“You really think so?”

“Buddy, I know so! This is the way genius happens! …With a little help from a friend, of course!”

The hand against the glass curled into a fist as Bill’s voice once again pounded through his skull, the memories of their ‘research’ together gripping his insides like a vice. All those years of hard work for naught, all that wasted time being fed promises from the honey-dipped spoon of a liar, the bitter truth hidden from sight until it was too late to spit it back out—

He slowly unclenched his hand with a shuddery exhale. Deep breath, just relax. Everything was fine. “—well, this whole setup is making me reminisce on more nostalgic times,” he finished with a forced smile in Soos’s direction. “That’s all.”

If Soos had caught on to his half-truth, he didn’t show any sign of it in his own expression. Rather, his own smile simply widened further as he looked to Stan. “What about you, Mr. Pines?”

Ford couldn’t help but look to his brother as well, and his eyes once again met a matching pair as the two of them stared at each other in another shared silence.

The rigidity in Stan’s features from before had returned. Far less prominent than it had been back in the house, but the way his jaw was set, the cold, studious gaze behind worn lenses—

“All I wanna know is how much this kinda stuff’s costing the two of you.”

And quick as a flash, Stan had turned back to the rest of the group, arms folded across his chest and any sense of tension in his features nonexistent. “Don’t get me wrong; I think usin’ all the ghouls and goblins of this town to get more money outta tourists is a great idea—”

“You mean like what I suggested last year?” Dipper pointed out.

“Last year I was still playin’ dumb about all of that, in the hopes it would keep you kids outta trouble,” Stan reminded him. “Think we can safely say that ship has sailed by now. Besides, I ain’t the big man in charge anymore, so whatever changes you make to the shop are up to you and you alone.”

He directed the back half of his sentence at Soos and Melody as he turned to face them again. “But you know me; always lookin’ at the side of business with the dollar signs. And I just wanna know if you’re turnin’ more of a profit than what you’re spendin’.”

Ford’s gaze continued to linger on his brother for a moment more, before he turned to them as well. “Stanley raises a good point. While I clearly support the desire and motivation to help others approach the supernatural beings of the Falls with a more respectful and scientific mindset—well, as Stanley put it so eloquently, such methods aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about,” Melody assured them. “If anything, the Shack is making more money than it ever did before!”

“Oh yeah!” Soos agreed. “Even taking into account all of the paychecks we give out—of course we pay anyone who’s part of an exhibit—”

“They’re employees after all,” Melody chimed in with a nod.

“—even taking all that into account, we’re doing really well!” Soos finished, tossing his hands into the air. “In fact, the Shack is more popular than it’s ever been before!”

Ford glanced back at Stan, scanning his features for any other signs of distress. However, Stan only seemed to perk up further at Soos’ comment, even going so far as to clasp a proud arm around his shoulder. “Well, then I have no complaints whatsoever! Show me another one of these magnificent, moneymaking—uh, m—uh…whatever, just show me another one.”

“Sounds like my cue,” Wendy said, and turned to the younger twins. “Who wants to see me break something over at the Manotaur stage?”

This time, Dipper and Mabel’s hand shot up in unison, and Wendy laughed as she lead them over towards the empty presentation stage. Much like back at the bus stop, the adults found themselves left behind as Soos helped a sopping-wet Melody back down the ladder and into the grass.

“Well, the tour might not be how we usually do things, but at least they seem to be having fun,” she said, and reached up to wring out some of the water in her hair. “Plus getting a chance to jump into a tank of water on a hot summer evening’s probably the opposite of a problem.”

“You cannonball like no other,” Soos said, tone full of sincerity before he looked to the older twins. “So you’re really enjoying the tour so far, Mr. Pines? I know you probably won’t get a proper feel of the new exhibits until you’re able to take a real tour, and I know this is a huge change from how you used to do things—”

“Like I said, it’s makin’ this place more money than ever so I’ve got zero complaints,” Stan said with a shrug. “Your methods are smart, keepin’ up with what the people want like any good business should…”

His features shifted to something that almost resembled genuine pride, if one looked closely enough. “You’re…you’re doin’ good, Soos. Really.”

A single touch could’ve shattered Soos like glass, eyes swelling with tears of pure joy.. “Thank you so much, Mr. Pines!” he said, and finally gave in to the urge he was probably holding since the moment the Stans arrived and scooped Stan up into a hug. “You’ve no idea how much this means to me!”

Any pride in Stan’s expression vanished in place of annoyance at being scooped, and he struggled fruitlessly against Soos’ embrace. “Alright, alright, save the huggy stuff for your fiance over there,” he insisted firmly. “Besides, didn’t Wendy say she wanted to show us another exhibit or whatever?”

“Oh, right!” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Want me to hug-carry you over to the stage?”

“Soos, I’m soaking wet.”

“Then we’ll both be soaking wet!”

Recognizing a good point when she heard it, Melody shrugged and hopped into his arms and the two of them fell into a shared fit of laughter as Soos lead them both towards the Manotaur stage.

Leaving the Stans as the remaining two near the mermaid tank.

“Can you believe this?” Stan asked, with a light flick to the glass. “A mermaid exhibit with a living, breathing merman? And one not made out of random animal parts?”

“They really seem to have tapped into a brilliant method of showcasing the exhibits here,” Ford agreed, turning his attention to the glass as well. With Melody no longer inside, the water inside was slowly settling back to a calm and undisturbed state. “You really picked the right man to take up the reigns in your absence.”

“Yeah, I…I really did, huh?”

That heavy silence from before began to envelop the brothers again, nearly impossible to ignore by this point. Not even the whooping and hollering from the stage—apparently Wendy had started her demonstration without them—was enough to distract Ford from his growing suspicions that Stanley was hiding something.

With the way he kept looking at Ford, features set with that rigid expression that clearly obscured his actual feelings beneath, he was either hiding something or he needed to say something without the others nearby.

Well, they had a moment alone now. Best to do the straightforward thing and just ask directly. “Stanley, is everything alright?”

Stan snapped his attention from the tank to Ford so quickly that it was a miracle he didn’t pull something, and for a moment he did seem like he had something he needed to say—

—before his expression settled back into something more neutral as he leaned back against the glass. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

It was an odd thing. With the many years of conning people under his belt, Ford had expected his brother to be far better at lying right to his face. “Are you sure?” he tried again, and leaned back against the glass as well. “You know you can talk to me, Stanley. It’s like you said before: we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore. So, if you need to talk about anything, anything at all…”

This earned a small chuckle from Stan. “Throwin’ my own words back at me, huh? Cheap shot.”

He hesitated to reply for a moment, before giving him a halfhearted shrug. “I dunno, it’s nothin’,” he said. “I think I’m just having a hard time getting back into the swing of things now that we’re back in town. Just a lotta new stuff to get used to, stuff that wasn’t here last year…”

He cast Ford a smirk. “Guess you could say I’m having trouble gettin’ my land legs, instead of my sea legs,” he said, leaning over to nudge him with his elbow. “You—you get it? My land legs—”

Dodging the subject with a joke, and an incredibly cheesy one at that. A classic Stanley move to avoid talking about something he didn’t want to, one that only cemented Ford’s concerns further.

However, his first remark brought a thoughtful hand to Ford’s chin. “There have been quite a few changes in our absence,” he agreed. “It would make sense that it would be difficult for you to readjust, especially in regards to the shack.”

He cast a look towards the shack itself. “I mean, you were in charge of this place for what, thirty years? That’s about five times the number of years I lived here,” he said. “Not to mention Soos and Melody’s whole announcement, I can imagine that would be quite the surprise for you—”

“Only surprise there is that there’s apparently someone on this planet more nerdy than Soos,” Stan interrupted quickly, and crossed his arms. “What about you? How’re you holdin’ up?”

Ford stared at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“To quote the words you stole from me to then throw back at me; we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore,” Stan said. “So do you have anything you wanna talk about?”

“Heads up!”

A shout from the stage sprung the brothers into action, and both jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a porcelain vase whizzing past at breakneck speed, right before crashing straight into the side of the cabin and shattering on impact.

“Sorry, guys!” Wendy called from atop the stage. “Think I put a little too much oomph into that swing!”

“I think you put just the right amount of oomph into it!” Mabel said from beside her, grin bright.

“It was incredible!” Dipper agreed. “Can you do it again?”

“I dunno,” Wendy said, tapping the end of the bat against her boot. “The destruction of valuable properly really gets both the Manotaurs and the audience all riled up, so they tend to keep the going until there’s nothing left to destroy.”

She moved the end of the bat was moved to a discarded plank of wood near her feet, gently nudging it towards the edge of the stage. “And judging by today’s damage, it’s a miracle that one vase remained unscathed as long as it did.”

“Aw, boo,” Mabel said. “I wanna see more mindless violence!”

“Sadly that’s all I got for the big lugs for now,” Wendy said, letting the bat clatter to the stage. “You squirts know all about their deal already, so random trivia is kinda out of the question. I mean, I could always do the thing where they let someone from the audience challenge them in a fight, but ehh, I’ve already gotta clean up the displays on my day off—”

“Didn’t you choose to come to work anyway?” Mabel pointed out.

“—so I’m just gonna pass the baton to Soos,” Wendy continued, tossing a hand in Soos’ direction. “How about it, Soos? You’re the only one who hasn’t shown off one of the exhibits yet, it’s only fair you get a turn before we move on to the Big Stuff inside.”

“You make a good point!” Soos agreed with a nod, and glanced around at the remaining exhibits for a moment in thought. “Who wants to watch me try and do a kickflip over at the Abominable Bro-Men’s halfpipe?”

“Me! Me!” Dipper piped up enthusiastically. “You are absolutely going to fall and break your neck, so I’m in!”

Beaming, Soos turned back to the direction of the mermaid tank. “What about you, Dr. and Mr. Pines?” he called. “You wanna join us?”

The sudden vase attack had pulled both from their conversation long enough to grow distracted by the kids’ antics on the stage. At Soos’ call, however, the two of them exchanged a look with each other. “Like I was askin’ before,” Stan tried again. “Are you okay? You got anything you need to talk about?”

It was said in such a knowing tone, as if Stan could physically see the triangle-shaped echos that were permanently etched against the inside of Ford’s mind. As if he were just waiting for Ford to offer him the chance to swing another fist at them again.

But while swinging a fist at Bill had worked the first time around, Stan couldn’t exactly swing a fist at the nightmares that had plagued Ford’s head for as long as he could remember. And even if he could—

“I’m fine, Stanley,” he finally insisted aloud. “Really, I am. Perhaps it’s as you said, and it’s taking me more time to readjust to being back in town than I’d initially expected.”

He flashed Stan a weak smile, one that his brother hesitated to return for a few seconds. But eventually, the corners of Stan’s mouth curled upwards into a amused smile of his own. “Pretty sure my exact words were ‘having trouble gettin’ my land legs’,” he pointed out, clasping a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Was a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”

“Stanley, you realize that ‘getting your land legs’ is about as common of a phrase as ‘getting your sea legs’,” Ford pointed out.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I made that one up,” Stan said, and plopping an arm across his brother’s shoulders. “Now come on, let’s go watch Soos break his neck or whatever he’s gonna do.”

“Personally, I’m not a fan of Abominable Bro-Men,” Ford admitted. “But with all this talk of neck-breaking, I think there should be at least one person there who knows how to reset a bone.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert with human bones—”

While the adults followed Soos towards the half-pipe, Mabel let out a disappointed noise. “Aww man, I wanted a chance to try and fight Wendy!”

“Eh, we’ve got all summer,” Wendy reminded her. “Besides, you’re telling me you’d miss a chance to watch Soos fall flat on his face?”

With a giggle, Mabel shoved her hands in her pockets. “Now I never said that—oh, wait—”

She shuffled her hands around for a moment, before pulling them back out and peering into her pocket with an annoyed look. “Aww, dang it, I think my wad of sticky poster stuff fell out of my pocket somewhere.”

“Eugh, that probably means it’s all covered in dirt or something now,” Dipper said with a grimace. “Probably best to cut your losses and start a new one when school picks back up again.”

“Are you kidding?” Mabel protested, gaze now shifting around their feet and the rest of the stage. “I barely managed to collect as much as I did before the teachers started catching wind of my thievery!”

Taking care to avoid any of the broken debris, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against the stage for closer examination. “By the time fall hits, they’ll probably have security guards around every single one of those cheesy pun posters that relate to each class’s specific subject! I’ll never be able to get the new one back to the size of the original!”

Dipper placed a hand on his hip. “You realize that this is a very weird and specific problem that only you could have,” he said, then paused. “You want me to help you look?”

“Nah, nah, you go ahead and watch Soos. Just snap me some pics with my phone.”

Without taking her eyes off the stage, she held out her cell phone to him. “Feel free to add whatever filters you want, I’m partial to the kitty-ears myself.”

“Of course you are.”

While he hopped down from the stage and headed towards the half-pipe, Mabel continued to search on her hands and knees for the telltale blob. When the stage itself produced no results, she moved to retrace her steps from the stage to the mermaid tank, to the area where she was pretty sure she’d pulled the lump out of her pocket—Soos making them walk around blindfolded had been delightfully quirky at the time, but now it was just making her search all the more difficult—

THUMP!

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground snapped Mabel’s attention towards the edge of the forest, her gaze darting about wildly as she tried to locate the source. A goal that didn’t take long for her to accomplish; a conspicuous black mass was splayed out on the ground between a pair of nearby birch trees.

Her first guess was some kind of animal, until her gaze landed on a small, fleshy hand at the end of an arm. An arm, a head of messy hair, a pair of legs—

“Wait, that’s a person!”

Once her brain put two and two together, Mabel broke into a sprint towards the unknown—potentially unconscious—body. Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed once she reached it and knelt down to investigate.

They were short, probably not much taller than her or Dipper at full height. And as Mabel rolled their unconscious body onto their back to get a closer look, further similarities between the mysterious person and Dipper presented themselves to her.

They had the same facial structure, their noses were the same rosy shade of peach that was slightly darker than the rest of their face. Even their messy mop of hair fell over their eyes in the exact same way Dipper’s did when he wasn’t wearing a hat, although his usual brown shade had been swapped for a light bleach-blonde that would make the entirety of Sev’ral Timez weep with envy.

Despite the similar physical features—the mysterious person’s fashion sense differed from Dipper’s in every way. Rather than the casual shirt, vest and hat combo that Dipper wore on a regular basis, the person was dressed in a black jacket and pants, bow tie, yellow button up—an unusually fancy outfit for someone who might’ve just fallen out of a tree in the middle of the woods.

“What’s wrong, Pumpkin?”

Drawing her gaze from the body, Mabel looked up to see Stan approaching her with a curious look. “I think someone fell out of one of the trees,” she explained. “I heard a loud thump, and saw them lying here. I think they might be a kid—”

“What’s going on over here, dudes?”

Stan turned to see Ford and Soos coming up behind him, a skateboard tucked safely under Soos’ arm. “I was just gonna wait until everyone was at the half-pipe ramp,” Soos explained. “Dipper said Mabel was looking for something, and I’m in no rush.”

He flashed a grin in Stan’s direction. “Even if I’d love to get to the inside part of the tour as soon as possible, you are gonna flip when you see it, Mr. Pines—”

“What’s wrong, Stanley?” Ford asked, echoing his brother’s earlier question.

“Accordin’ to Mabel, some kid fell out of a tree or something,” Stan said, with a look to Soos. “What, you’re just lettin’ kids climb in the trees around here now? You lookin’ to get sued by some Patsy or Jane with straight bangs and a failing marriage that she insists on makin’ everyone else’s business?”

Soos innocently raised his hands. “I didn’t let anyone do anything, I swear! Maybe he was part of the last tourist group of the day and got separated from them before they left? Haven’t had any parents show up looking for a lost kid, though.”

“Either way, we should probably call 911.”

Ford knelt down beside Mabel and pressed two fingers to the unknown child’s neck. “Well, they have a pulse so they’re probably alive,” he said, then pulled his hand back. “Of course, a lack of pulse doesn’t rule out the possibility of them being undead. But if they did fall out of a tree, they could possibly have a concussion. So either way, it’s a concern.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t have to rip out the spine of this one,” Stan said.

While they conversed, Mabel gingerly placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder and gave it a light shake. “Hello? Are you alright?”

There was no response, so she tried again with a bit more force. “Hey, kid, I hope you know that you just fell out of the sky!” she said with a bit more urgency. “Which is probably not out of the norm for kids in Gravity Falls, but still, it’s a little worrying!”

The child remained still for a moment more—

—before their body began to tremble with a quiet chuckle. A quiet chuckle that slowly morphed into a full-on laugh.

Any relief that might’ve started building inside Mabel was snuffed out in an instant as the laughter—that cold, cruel laughter—only grew more vocal, and sent her crawling backwards in a panic as the body slowly rose up from the ground and turned to face her.

Now that Mabel got a better look at his face, the similarities to her brother were so clearly skin deep. Their aforementioned features were the same as before, but Dipper never smiled in a way that revealed all of his teeth and gums at once, like a young child being told to smile for the first time in front of a camera.

Dipper’s limbs weren’t quite as gangly and limp as the other boy’s, like a marionette being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer who hadn’t mastered the art of making their body move naturally.

And Dipper’s eyes weren’t that terrifying, familiar shade of jaundice yellow, complete with slitted, catlike pupils that bore deep, deep into her very being.

“Grunkle Ford!”

Her panicked shout—one that spilled out of her on complete instinct before she could even process what she was saying—was far from necessary. Ford had completely frozen when the laughter had started, features aghast and grim as he stared at the child, as that wicked, horrible laughter droned on and on—

CRACK!

And suddenly the laughter was silenced, and the same sound of a body hitting a ground as before drew Mabel’s attention back to reality.

The child was unconscious again, now with a decent sized welt on the back of his head. And beside him stood Wendy, the bat from before in hand and her body hunched over while she tried to catch her breath. “Saw…saw what was happening,” she explained between sharp gulps of air. “Heard the laughing. Panicked…”

The only sound to break the silence that followed for a few seconds was the faint rustling of the wind through the trees, until a pair of approaching footsteps against the dirt drew everyone’s heightened attention towards the sound in a panic.

Much like the others had done, Melody and Dipper were approaching the group from the direction of the half-pipe. Upon seeing their petrified expressions, Melody held up her hands. “Woah, woah, hey, what’s going on?”

From beside her, Dipper lifted up something he was clutching tightly in his hands—one of the discarded planks of wood from the Manotaur’s stage. “I heard Mabel yell and saw Wendy run over here with her bat,” Dipper added. “Thought it’d probably be smart to grab a weapon, too—”

“Get a rope.”

Ford didn’t tear his gaze from the body as he responded in a low tone, as if it would vanish the moment he looked away. As if he, or everything around him, would shatter in an instant if he dared tear his attention away from the body that had previously been letting out that horrible, horrible laughter.

The laughter that had haunted his dreams for four decades, the laughter still bouncing off the inside of his skull, even after Wendy had silenced the source.

When he didn’t elaborate further, Dipper looked to one of the other adults for an explanation—

“You heard him! Get a rope!”

It was Stan who replied next, and actually spun to face them with a grim expression. “A rope, chains…if it can be used to tie someone up, then get it!”

“It’s code yellow, Melody,” Wendy said quickly. “Soos, do we still got that unicorn-hair rope?”

“Same place as it always is,” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Come on, we need to hurry—I’ll get the moonstones, you fetch the mercury.”

Recognizing their urgency, Melody looked to the unconscious body on the ground. “...That’s him, then?”

“Did you hear me, I said get a rope!”

It was Ford who spoke again, tone more demanding as he finally tore his gaze from the body to glare at them. “If I have to say it a third time—”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that answers that question,” Melody said quickly, and gestured for the rest of them to follow. “Alright, there’s a rope and a chair to tie him to in the shack. But who’s gonna—”

“I’ve got it.”

Letting the bat clatter to the ground, Wendy scruffed the unconscious child by the back of his jacket and hoisted him up into the air. “Let’s get him inside.”

With mild chaos, the group hurried towards the Shack with the unconscious child in hand. Leaving the bat, Mabel’s unfortunately-missed blob of blue poster tack lying several yards away, and the remaining exhibit displays abandoned as the first real hints of night began to peek their way through the tops of the trees.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #My Writing #Long Post #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #(There are more characters but they are on the poster and arguably get the most focus this chapter)

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maria-scribbles · 2 years

Text

meet me at midnight

summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything

wc: 5k

ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.

a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.

meet me at midnight

December 31st, 1983

"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"

You were inclined to, that's for sure.

Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.

You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.

It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.

"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.

Absolutely not.

"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.

Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.

Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.

(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)

Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.

"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.

"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."

Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."

"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."

"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.

You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.

For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.

(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)

If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.

She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.

Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.

As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.

You have no right to be jealous.

You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.

It's all so terribly confusing.

Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.

…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.

They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.

The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.

You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-

"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."

Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.

Really fucking annoying.

"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"

Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.

"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."

He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.

"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."

Your brain short circuits.

Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?

You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.

"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"

Keep watch?

He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.

You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."

You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"

"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"

"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.

"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.

"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."

Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.

"Cheers."

You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.

"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."

Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."

You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.

"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."

"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"

"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"

Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"

"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."

"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."

He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."

You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.

"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."

"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."

"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."

He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.

"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."

The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.

If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).

"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…

(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)

…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right, yeah."

Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."

"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."

"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Go where?"

"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.

You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.

"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.

"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.

"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.

"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.

"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"

You nod.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.

You nod again.

His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.

Holy shit, he's strong.

You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.

"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.

To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.

"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."

"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"

"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."

You care.

"All by yourself?"

He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."

"Really?"

It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.

It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.

"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."

You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."

You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.

For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.

No wonder he ate ten of them.

You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.

"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."

"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."

You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.

"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.

You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.

"Why?"

"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"

"No, why do you…why me?"

It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.

"Because you're you."

A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.

"Oh."

It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.

"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"

"I'm not into Steve."

You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"

"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."

"Ten, nine, eight."

You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Seven, six, five."

"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"

"Four."

"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"

"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.

"Three."

"Yeah?"

"Two."

"Please stop talking."

His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.

"One."

The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.

The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.

Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.

He's all you ever wanted.

You were just too blind to see it.

He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.

"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."

"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."

He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don't want to go home yet."

You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.

"Where to then?"

He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.

"Surprise me. I'm all yours."

An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.

You know you mean every word.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #my writing #tag check

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arriansarchive · 1 year

Text

Miles Morales/Male!Reader

I love him sooo much

Ik I said that for Pav too, but they both own my heart

Reader is a spider person and they all live in Spider Society HQ because I said so

Set whenever Miles first gets to Spider Society HQ, and it's you instead of Spider Byte that he runs into

Gwen is kind of a bitch, but I promise I love her too

I can't say enough how little effort I put into this, so don't bully me I know it's bad

Words: 726

Name tag things: Y/N (your name), L/N (last name), S/N (spider name)

This is a complete shit post but enjoy I guess

Summary: What if Miles found someone that took his eyes off of Gwen?

The big hallway seemed to consume Miles as he walked down in Spider Society HQ.

Ever since Gwen had talked about Hobie, things had seemed a little bit strained and strange between them.

He tried to think about other things, but Gwen kept coming back to his mind.

The thoughts seemed to consume Miles until he felt himself bump into you. He looked up to see your slightly irritated face.

You were taller than him and much stronger-looking. Miles felt intimidated by your confident stance and hardened gaze.

"Do you even watch where your going?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

Gwen seemed a little annoyed at the pure awe that was set in Miles' expression. His mouth was open in a small 'o' shape, and his eyes were wide.

"Who are you?" Miles murmured.

"I'm known as S/N."

He looks around for a moment before raising his hand up and putting it slowly down on your right shoulder.

"Hey." He slurred, contorting his face in what you only assume is what's supposed to be a persuasive smile.

You stare at him blankly for a moment before taking your hand, tugging his grip off of your shoulder, and walking away from the situation, shaking your head.

Miles stared helplessly after you, but he wasn't too surprised that his tactic didn't work.

Gwen grunted and rolled her eyes. "Come on, Miles."

He looked at you walking in the direction ahead of him and Gwen, practically entranced. You and Miles only just met, but he already loved everything about you.

He turned to Gwen. "What's his name?" Miles asked.

She looked at him angrily. "Didn't he already tell you?"

"I meant his real name, Gwen."

"Y/N L/N." She said curtly.

Miles decided to let the subject go for now as Gwen looked mildly exasperated at his endless questions about you.

Finally him and Gwen reached a room that, whenever they opened the door, was very wide and had a risen platform in the middle.

That said platform had a desk. A burly looking man sat in a chair on top of it with his back turned to the crowd on the floor.

*insert Miguel yelling at Miles because I can't remember what all he said* time skip to whenever Miles is running

Miles ran and ran until he felt a tug on his arm that sent him spiraling to the side into a closed compartment.

He felt a big hand come over his mouth and someone whisper in his ear.

"Shut up, and stay shut up. My location is off, so they won't find you."

He tried to pry the hand off of his mouth but to no avail and heard the spider people run past the small room.

Once they were all past, the strong hand left him to turn around swiftly, ready to pounce if it were anyone suspicious.

Miles looked on in surprise whenever he realized that it was you. He was confused on why you would help him after you looked so unamused at his flirty shenanigans.

"S/N?" He inquired.

You nodded your head and turned to look at the small hole between the outside world and your small compartment.

"We don't have long to hide here, and I need you to listen to me carefully." You said.

He stood contently, so you took that as an invitation to continue on.

"You want to save your dad, and I'm going to help you get to him. I'm not going anywhere beyond that."

"Won't you get--"

You cut him off quickly. "Yes, I will get fired, but I will take that risk if it means that you can feel some heroicness before your dimension diminishes into nothing."

"We need to get you inside of HQ and to the thing that can send you home. Spider Byte controls it; if we can get her to run the machine you will be able to get home."

Miles looked at you in shock, thinking about how he didn't even have a plan before you showed up. This made him like you ten times more.

"So you can help me?" Miles asked hopefully.

"I think so." You nodded in finalization, affirming that you and Miles were now on the same side.

He gave you a cocky smile, and you both flew out of the compartment.

#miles morales #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles x y/n #miles x male reader #miles x you #miles x reader

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urfavstargirl1 · 2 years

Text

the darkest night - part 3 of 3

part 1 - part 2

summary: best friends-to-lovers!Y/N waits by his side for Post-Vecna Eddie to wake up from a coma. After months, her beloved metal head is back to earth with a serious proposition for the girl he loves most

cw: st4 post-Vecna but Eddie lives, hospitals, Eddie is in a coma, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, kissing, trauma, cursing, etc.,

word count: 5k

April 7th, 1986

“Where is he,” you mutter under your breath, pacing rapidly beneath the fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway.

You read out the hospital room numbers as you pass them.

303, 305, 307, 309.

As you approach room 315, you see a group of people waiting outside. There’s a guy around your age you don’t recognize with two boys that you do recognize as some of the freshman Eddie took under his wing this year.

“Dustin,” You croak. The boy Eddie talked about the most.

As soon as he sees you, he comes rushing toward you. You engulf him in a hug and he squeezes you tightly.

You silently hold each other like that for a while before you pull away and forcibly smile at him.

“I came as soon as I could,” you said.

Dustin nodded.

“All flights to Hawkins have been canceled. It cost an arm and a leg to travel back here, but as soon as I heard the news, I…”

“I know,” Dustin said as he put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“How’s he holding up? How’re you all holding up,” you ask as you look between the boys.

Dustin took in a deep breath, “He’s not doing too well. We’re - not that much better.”

You nod and bring Dustin in for another hug, “I’m so sorry.”

Dustin hugs you back and you stroke the curls on his head.

When you pull away, Dustin gives you a look. “You should see him.”

You look at him warily. Of course you want to see your best friend after an interdimensional monster attack, but at this moment, you realize that you might not be ready to see the horrors that have truly happened.

“I think if he heard your voice, he might finally wake up.”

You press your lips together. You have to be strong. If not for you then for Eddie and his friends. You nod and let Dustin guide you into the room.

You see Wayne sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed with his head hanging down. When he hears your footsteps he looks up at you and a tired smile forms on his features.

“Y/N,” he says with a slight cough. He rises from his chair. “Long time no see darlin’.”

You wave him off as you walk towards him, “Oh, it’s just me, no need to get up.”

“It’ll help to stretch the legs,” he smiles.

As you approach him, he opens his arms and you greet him with a hug. He holds onto you more tightly than you expected and you know it must be bad.

When he pulls away, you smile weakly. “How’s he doing?”

Wayne sighs and runs a hand over his head, “Oh well, you know the boy, never not doing anything that won’t give me a heart attack.”

You manage to let out a laugh, “Yeah, that’s Eddie for you.”

“He missed you something fierce. Was counting down the days till you’d come back from your spring break trip.”

Your lip quivers and you press them together to keep from shaking even more. “I never should have left.”

“No, don’t say that darlin’. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

And how could you? How could you have known that an innocent trip to visit a high school friend in Boston planned months in advance would happen at the same time that your best friend would become wanted for a crime he didn’t commit and get sent into a coma from some weird monster bats in an alternate dimension that apparently exists right underneath your hometown of Hawkins, IN?

You take a moment to catch up with Wayne before he excuses himself to go take a walk and give you some space to be with Eddie.

When he leaves, you sit in the chair next to the bed and look at the boy lying before you.

He’s unrecognizable.

He lies there, skin a ghost white. His curly brown hair is the only things standing out from the drab white walls and white hospital bed linens.

His eyes are closed and there’s an oxygen tube draped across the middle of his face. An IV is inserted in the veins of his wrist. A heart monitor beeps incessantly from the other side of the bed.

You sniffle and lean forward to grab his hand. You look at his face now covered in red splotches you can only identify as what are probably bat bites.

“Hey Eddie,” you whisper, smiling despite his condition. You can’t help smiling whenever you’re around Eddie. Even if he’s not conscious.

You bring a hand forward and push the bangs hanging over his forehead back. You caress the skin and let your fingers trail to the side of his face.

“I leave you for one week and look at all the trouble you got into,” you scold him. “I don’t think I can ever leave Hawkins in good conscience after this. There goes the trip to Europe I’ve always dreamed of.”

Eddie’s body lies still and his eyes remain shut. The only sign of life is the heart monitor still beeping.

You run your fingers along his arm and it isn’t cold, just still. You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his skin.

“I miss you Eds,” you whisper. “Please wake up soon.”

You almost want to say something else, anything else, but you can’t. You can’t say anything without wanting to cry.

Eddie would hate to see you like this. He wouldn’t ever want you to shed a tear, least of all not like that.

The thought alone makes you miss him even more. You’re never leaving his side again.

You sit with Eddie like that for a while. If there’s ever anything that comes to mind that you want to say, you tell him. You hold his hand and talk to him as if he’s awake to hear it, hoping the sound of your voice really could wake him up.

After some time has passed, Wayne comes back to the room. You thank him for letting you see Eddie and promise to be back the next day.

Before you leave, you see Dustin and the other boys are still there. And it looks like they went and got some food. Dustin hands you two bags, asking if you could give one to Wayne.

“Why don’t you go and give it to him,” you say with the affection of a big sister.

Dustin shakes his head, “I don’t think I can.”

You jerk your head back slightly, “Oh, why not?”

“I don’t think I’m ready - to see him.”

“You mean you haven’t seen Eddie?”

Dustin meekly shakes his head.

You look at him, wanting to know why, but can tell he probably won’t be up for explaining why.

The look on your face must convey your thoughts because Dustin looks at you and whispers, “I was there when it happened. I saw him. I saw it all. To this day, I still see it. I can’t stop seeing it.”

You look at Dustin and frown feeling an ache deep inside your chest. You engulf him in what has to be the fifth hug since you got here. But what else can you do?

There’s nothing you can say that will make the situation better. It’s bad enough you were gone when it all went down. You hope as much conveys in the warm embrace as you gently stroke the curls atop his head.

“I’m sorry Dustin,” you say as you pull apart. You cup his cheek and add, “For what it’s worth, I think Eddie would like to hear your voice too, whenever you’re ready.”

Dustin meekly smiles and nods. A moment of comfortable silence passes between you and the rest of the boys. When it passes, Dustin reintroduces you to Mike and introduces you to Steve.

You recognize him from school. Even though he was in the grade below you, you vaguely remember seeing him and his infamous head of hair roaming the halls.

You converse with the boys and soon, the events of the evening turn into a daily ritual.

Every day for almost a month, you come to the hospital to visit Eddie and spend time with his friends and Uncle Wayne. Some days it’s your turn to bring food or card games for the group. Other days it’s someone else's turn.

You’ve also fallen into the habit of bringing Eddie things. One day, you brought the cassette to Judas Priest's new album Turbo. You knew it came out just before you had left but you didn’t know if Eddie had gotten to listen to it, so you bought the tape and your portable radio and listened to it for the first time with him.

For a moment, you could swear you saw a twitch in his lip, but just as soon as it happened, it went away and nothing like that happened again, but it felt promising enough.

You told Dustin about it and felt triumphant when you saw his eyes light up about it. For a moment, he thought he wanted to, and you encouraged him to, but as soon as he put his hand on the doorknob and looked through the little window on the door and saw the lower half of Eddie’s still body covered in a thin white blanket he froze.

“I-I can’t,” he muttered.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay. Don’t force yourself. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Eddie would understand.”

As each day passed on, you thought it would be harder to see Eddie like this, but it wasn’t. After a while, you almost got sort of used to it. The hardest part about it all was seeing the toll it was taking on his loved ones.

You tell Uncle Wayne was trying to keep a brave face, but you noticed the look on his face whenever the nurses spoke in hushed whispers about the wanted boy.

And you definitely noticed the weariness and fatigue take over the faces of his friends who came by to see him every day.

You wanted to be strong for them all. For him. But deep down, you were scared. You feared he might never wake up.

Your fear ran so deep, it even had you turning to church, a place you hadn’t been in years, but by god you needed a miracle. Eddie deserved a miracle.

Every day as you trekked to the hospital, you would stop by the hospital chapel and pray for Eddie’s recovery before making it up to his room.

The days all seemed to blend into one another and before you knew it, it had been two months since the tragic accident.

Deep down, you were growing frustrated and helpless.

“Goddamnit Eddie if you don’t wake up soon, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you had muttered next to his bed one night when no one was around. You could almost hear his laugh and that’s when you knew this whole thing had been going on so long your mind was beginning to play tricks on you, but what else could you do?

This is just how things between you and Eddie are. You’d stick by his side every day for a hundred years.

By the time June rolled around, the hospital became a sweet relief from the sweltering heat outside.

Midnight snacks with the gang turned to ice cream runs and milkshake pickups. And now that most tv shows have ended their seasons and the tv program was taking a break for the summer, you were running out of things to update Eddie on.

To fill the silence, you decided to read him the Lord of the Rings books he loved so much. Despite being his best friend, you’d never really taken a liking to them and didn’t get around to reading them, but you supposed now was as good a time as any.

And pretty soon, you had someone to help you.

“Hey Eddie, guess who’s here,” you said cheerfully as you walked Dustin into the room cautiously, making sure to keep your arm comfortingly wrapped around the young boy.

“It’s your favorite little prodigy, Dustin,” you cooed as you smiled at Dustin. Dustin looked blankly at Eddie’s body lying on the hospital bed.

“Hey,” Mike whined. Steve nudged him and shook his head. The boys followed you and Dustin as you neared Eddie’s bed.

“H-Hey man, it’s me. Your little shrimp? Henderson?” Dustin weakly said.

You gently squeeze his arm, encouraging him a bit.

“You’re doing great,” Steve said as he clapped a hand to Dustin’s back. Dustin nodded and sat down in the chair next to Eddie.

He stared at him for a moment. Much of the scar tissue in his skin had healed compared to the state you found him in months ago. But the evidence remained. Eddie was hurt bad.

“We can’t wait till the next campaign,” Dustin said in a much more normal tone than you had expected.

Dustin looked over to you, Mike, and Steve who all gave him a reassuring look or thumbs up.

Dustin began to read. At first, his voice would shake and a few tears had even slipped out, but the more he read, the more confident and comfortable he became.

And for the rest of the week, it became second nature for Dustin to join you in spending time with Eddie.

Back in May, the doctors said his vitals looked good and that it was just a matter of time before he would wake up. But the Fourth of July was in two weeks and your birthday the week after that.

If somehow Eddie could wake up on your birthday, you would never ask for another birthday present ever again.

But when your birthday passed and Eddie still hadn’t woken up, you’d started losing hope again.

It was almost August and time for the kids to go back to school but they weren’t ready. They weren’t ready to say goodbye.

Even though they would still visit Eddie, it would be harder to go every single day with homework and sports.

Hellfire club wouldn’t be the same. But it had to go on. Someone had to carry out Eddie’s legacy.

By the time September rolled around, the temperatures started getting lower and the leaves on the trees were starting to change colors.

Part of you didn’t know how much longer you could take, but a bigger part of you knew you had to be there for Eddie. You loved him too much not to.

When Iron Maiden and Megadeth’s new albums came out, you bought the tapes and listened to it with Eddie along with a few other mixtapes you had made.

You could have sworn you’d seen his finger ever so slightly tap, but you knew it was probably just all in your head.

You didn’t understand, but you knew something had to be going on for Eddie to keep kicking as long as he has and that started to recover any hope you had lost.

You kept praying and visiting Eddie and doing it all over the next day.

By now, all the nurses knew you as the very sweet and dedicated girlfriend to the boy in the coma. It wasn’t your favorite label for Eddie but better than freak or any other crude thing some of the people in this town would call him.

It somehow always sort of broke your heart to hear them call you his girlfriend. You barely had the chance to be before this all happened. What you wouldn’t give to be his proper girlfriend when he does wake up.

On a cold and rainy October day, after begging the hospital staff to put a TV in his room and them finally granting your request, you brought a few VHS tapes of his favorite horror movies. Halloween, Eddie’s favorite holiday, was only two weeks away and he deserved to celebrate.

It was your day off from work, and there was no better way to spend it than with a movie marathon with your favorite boy.

It was a Thursday night and you had just finished Nightmare on Elm Street 2. The rain relentlessly pelted against the hospital room windows. You walked over to close the blinds when a clap of thunder and flash of lightning bright enough to light the room through the window struck. The unexpected sight and sound made you jump, letting out a small shriek.

You clutched the fabric of your shirt over your chest and let out a shaky breath. You were glad no one else was in the room or else you probably would have startled them.

You close the blinds shut and turn around to take your seat when you see Eddie’s eyelids flutter before slowly opening.

You were frozen in place, not sure if your eyes were deceiving you.

“Eddie,” you called out in a voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie’s eyes were now fully opened as he stared at the television in front of him.

“Eddie,” you called out a bit louder this time as you took a cautious step forward.

The rest of Eddie’s body remained still, but his head slowly turned to your direction. He slowly looked up at you and a weak smile formed across his lips.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Eddie,” you exclaimed as you rushed by his side.

You gazed into his eyes lovingly. His beautiful big brown eyes. Ones you feared you would never get to look into again.

You could just kiss him and hug him and tell him everything, but all you can do is grab his face in your hands and inspect his wide open eyes, tired but full of life.

“Nurse,” you cry out. When no one arrives, you run to the hall and find Eddie’s nurse on her way over.

A few of the other nurses come in and start attending to Eddie. They swarm around him like diligent worker bees.

One of them asks you to wait in the hall while they take his vitals and perform a few other tasks to assess his health, so you take the opportunity to call everyone and tell them that after months of waiting in agony, Eddie has finally woken up.

You don’t expect many people to show up, given that it’s past midnight on a weekday, but sure enough, Wayne, Dustin, Steve, Mike, and a few of Eddie’s other friends all show up.

The nurses instruct them all to enter two at a time or else all the excitement will tire Eddie out.

Wayne was the first to show up. He got off his shift as soon as he could. But as the other kids arrived, he let them have their time.

He spent the rest of the evening with you in the hall crying tears of joy and rejoicing at the fact that Eddie was alive and awake again.

After all these months, your prayer has finally been answered.

After the chaos of the night unfolded, Steve took the kids home so they could get ready for school in the morning leaving you and Wayne in Eddie’s hospital room.

Once the boys had left, it seems the excitement did tire Eddie out as he was on the verge of sleep.

“Why don’t you go on home and get some shut eye,” Wayne offered.

As much as you wanted to stay with Eddie, you had to admit, you were exhausted, and you knew it’d be best to let Wayne have some time alone with his nephew.

So you went home and slept for hours. You didn’t even know what day or time it was when you woke up, but all you knew was that you had to see Eddie.

For the next couple of days, you continued your daily hospital visit routine. Despite finally having reached the point of consciousness, Eddie’s recovery continued to prove rather slow. He was still very weak and often barely able to speak at all. But you could tell he was listening. The ghost of a smile on his lips or gentle tap of a finger on your hand let you know he was almost there.

Each day had its own little victory. And over the course of a few weeks, Eddie had started improving significantly. He could eat solid food, reach out for his own cup of water, hold up his worn copy of Lord of the Rings, and even carry a conversation.

You knew he was recovering well when he finally had the energy to pester Dustin and his other friends whenever they came around. Laughing so hard it hurt him.

“You okay,” Dustin asked.

“Yeah man, just hurts so good,” he’d joked.

The boy stuck around for a bit longer before Eddie sent them off on a journey to McDonald’s. You all had started getting hungry, but Eddie insisted they sneak him some fries because if the demo-bats didn’t kill him then the terrible hospital food probably would.

When you two were finally alone, you snuck a quick kiss to his cheek. If laughter was enough to have him aching, you were sure anything more than a chaste kiss would be lethal. And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I think you missed a spot,” Eddie said, pointing to his lips.

“Did I now?” You teased as you held his hand.

“Yup, doctor's orders. I need 10 cc’s of kisses from you right this very second,” Eddie said as he moved over to the side closest to you and leaned forward with pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“Is that so? I don’t think that’s the right prescription,” you teased as you leaned ever so slightly closer, challenging his pleading look.

“Leave that to the professionals, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to get better?” Eddie dramatically pleaded.

You leaned forward and quickly kissed his lips. You pulled away and rolled your eyes, “There, that better?”

“Nuh uh,” Eddie whined. In a husky seductive voice, he added, “Don’t you know baby? You’re my cure.”

“Oh god,” you cringed and laughed, “Okay, James Dean, does that line work on all the girls?”

“You tell me,” he challenged as he leaned forward, practically off the edge of his bed.

You rose from your seat and grinned at him. You pushed him back on his bed and said, “Alright Cassanova, don’t hurt yourself.”

Eddie made an incoherent noise that could only be described as a whine followed by a pout on his lips.

You leaned down, close enough to his face and locked eyes with him. They asked a question and you answered by leaning down and pressing your lips to his.

He reached his arm up to cup your cheek and hold you by the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. You allowed him to take what he needed, knowing he deserved it after all the trouble he’d been through. And selfishly, you wanted him to.

But when you heard the heart rate monitor beeping increasing in volume and speed you pulled away and laughed, gently patting him on the left side of his chest.

“Okay, that’s enough for now. Don’t think the 10 cc’s will account for your heart exploding as a side effect,” you smiled.

Eddie laughed and put his hand over yours as you sat back down in your chair.

You smiled at him and could only thank god or the universe or whatever higher power brought the love of your life back to this earth to be with you.

“What are you thinking about,” Eddie asked.

“Nothing,” you shrugged despite feeling a warmth in your chest at the sight of the light in his eyes. “It’s good to see you like this.”

He grabbed your hand in his and squeezed tightly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you said as you brought your intertwined fingers and kissed the knuckles of his hand.

“Wayne tells me you came here every day.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “We were both here. Usually he came during the day while I was at work and then I would come at night while he was at work so there was at least someone here with you.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Eddie replied as he rubbed circles into the skin of your hand.

“What are you talking about?”

“I was out for months, baby. And you still came. I don’t know who else would do that.”

“Someone with no life,” you joked and Eddie rolled his eyes.

You sighed, “Some days were harder than others, but… but you can’t get rid of me that fast!”

Eddie chuckles and it felt good to hear him like that. You could spend the rest of your life trying to make that boy smile.

“Remember what I told you that night, back at the trailer?” Eddie asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Oh gee, yeah, that night. Out of the hundreds of nights we’ve spent together, yeah I remember that one,” you sarcastically respond, poking fun at his vague words.

“Shut up,” Eddie smirked and shook his head. “I’m talking about that night after Gareth’s party. With the truth or dare and you blowing chunks and–”

“Okay, okay, yes I remember now,” you squeezed Eddie’s hand bone crushingly tight.

Eddie laughs, “Do you remember what I said?”

“Kind of, that night was a bit of a blur.”

“Oh, my little lightweight,” Eddie coos as he rubs circles into your skin.

He breathes in and exhales.

“You’re my northern star, you know that?” Eddie said offhandedly as he gazed down at your joined hands.

“What?” You ask in confusion.

“There’s been a lot of darkness in my life. Never seems to stop following me. But as long as you’re by my side, I can see the light. I can find my way back home.”

You looked at Eddie and squeezed his hand reassuringly. You looked at him, and saw a boy, who was much weaker and broken down than the boy you knew before this all happened. But compared to that dreaded April day, there was a light in his eyes and color in his skin and softness to his features.

The boy you always loved and was always full of life never went away.

You leaned forward and gave Eddie a kiss. A dramatic, take your breath away kind of kiss to show him just how much you loved him and how much he meant to you.

When you pulled away, Eddie’s eyes had become glossy.

“You know, for a long time, I think I just tried to run away from it all, but I always ended up running back to you and I don’t know if I ever want to stop.”

A soft tear rolled down his cheek and you kissed it away. “Shh, Eddie, it’s okay,” you softly said.

You cupped his cheek as more tears began to fall. “I love you and believe me, and I never want you to stop either.”

And without fail, tears started falling down your own cheeks.

You were grateful it was just you and Eddie in the room. You two could finally let go of all the stress and anxiety that had been building up over the past several months.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again Munson,” you tried to joke as yours and Eddie’s faces were growing splotchy.

Eddie weakly laughed and leaned forward to give you a kiss.

“You know, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and it doesn’t have to happen now, or anytime soon really, but I think I’d like to have you by my side like this for a long time,” Eddie said as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“How long are we talking about Munson?”

“Long enough to not be the only Munson between us two,” he said quietly before peering up into your eyes.

Your eyes widened at the implication of his words. “You mean that?”

Eddie nodded and smiled giddily. “Figured after everything you’ve done for me, the least I could do is give you a ring and my last name, maybe a little Munson or two to run around our future place with.”

You returned his smile and leaned forward to kiss him again, warmly and passionately. Eddie deepened the kiss and it took everything in you not to jump on the hospital bed with him and get a jump start on that plan.

“Oh Eddie, you don’t know the things I have planned for you when you get out of this hospital,” you sighed as you pulled away from him.

Before Eddie could reply, the boys returned from their McDonald’s adventure and Eddie practically jumped out of his hospital bed at the sight of his beloved french fries.

You two spent the rest of the night like that till the boys left to go home. The night nurse came in one last time to check on Eddie before going on her break. And once she left it was just you and Eddie alone again.

You smiled at him and let out a yawn.

“You tired, baby?”

“Little bit,” you nodded sleepily.

Eddie began scooting to the side of his hospital bed, “C’mere.”

You looked at him skeptically, unsure you would fit, but realized you didn’t even care. You wanted to be pressed to Eddie as closely as possible anyway.

You shuffled next to him and climbed under the blanket.

Eddie wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You sighed as you pressed your head to his chest and draped an arm over his stomach, “Goodnight Eddie.”

“G’night baby,” Eddie whispered as he caressed your hair and wrapped his other arm around you.

In the morning, Wayne walked into the room to find you and Eddie sound asleep, lying peacefully in each other's arms.

You and Eddie, against the world.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst ##stranger things fanfic #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #urfavstargirl1

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glimmerlofsea · 5 months

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Billy Hargrove x Reader

MASTERLIST

I DID IT

Warning : Lots of guilt, mention of scars, and lots of fluff! ;d and platonic relationship, I guess?

WC; 3,0k+

#TALKISSA; okay... before we start, I just want to say thank you for the opportunity you gave me to this Billy Hargrove fanfic that I made! No lie, this is the first time I've uploaded it on Tumblr, I've done it several times on Wattpad, but I want to try something new by writing it on Tumblr! If you don't mind, would you give it a chance by reading this story? I would really appreciate it! Thank you, and happy reading! For those of you who faithfully read my fanfic, I will give you the name 'issea', hihi (sorry I'm bad at giving nicknames). Happy reading, issea!

01:00 AM.

The clock ticking very loudly barged into your ears, people's shouts and shrill sounds almost made you unable to breathe properly.

Your legs couldn't stop shaking since you were waiting in front of the ICU room. You kept putting your thumbnail between your teeth because you were nervous.

You let out a heavy breath, as if you were holding back the tears from coming out, until finally they all came out and you couldn't stop crying in the hospital hallway. Your breath hitched, you were the one who should have stopped breathing forever— Your head should have been on your side, but no, they're convinced you to die.

This all starts with you being trapped between dimensions in Hawkins, just like the Zombie Boy they know but you are strategic enough to make yourself alive.

Of course it brought a lot of heavy trauma, but that incident actually made you enthusiastic about socializing again— even though in the end you were still stuck with Steve and Nancy. Not long after that you met the charming guy who came all the way from California, brought his flashy blue Camaro and made an attractive appearance in his tight jeans. This incident makes you want to enjoy your life even more, who knows you will die at the closest distance and at the wrong time, right?

Your thoughts make the new 'King of Hawkins' interested. If he doesn't make friends with girls, then it's with you that he makes them. Not only because you eliminate his lust, but he feels safe around you.

He is your Chicago. He was.

You were waiting in the hospital in blood-stained clothes, if you hadn't shouted at Joyce to immediately close the gate, maybe Billy would really have died. You felt guilty for yelling at that woman, you could feel Mrs. Byers, but you can't put your friends at risk.

Friends who feel safe around you, who feel like their life depends on your life. You didn't want to lose him, you couldn't.

You kept praying all the time that God would give him another chance, so that you and he could share the time together and the adventures he always wanted while in his hometown, California. You love him, but he doesn't feel worthy of being loved.

You were in your room, tidying up your things, you didn't want Billy to see you when he was fully awake. You were a nightmare for him, you were the one who caused him to have all these nightmares and you hated yourself for it. You did it, I did it, your mind always has images of those 3 sentences.

What would you do? You'll be far away from Hawkins and never come back here, you're too embarrassed and guilt enveloped you and hugged you tightly, not allowing you to let go.

Until Max finally realized what you were doing,

"So what? You're just gonna leave us?!" Max's voice was no less shaking when you first saw Billy's condition, her voice showed that she had been crying, "Y/N, please!"

Without looking at her, you just packed up your clothes to put them in a bag, "I don't want him to see me, Max."

"Exactly, why? Why don't you want him to see you, Y/N? If you leave you'll—"

"—I did it, Max." You said, cutting Max off, looking at Max who was just as puffy as you, "It was my fault."

You sat on the edge of your bed, followed by Max, Max let out a voice, "I don't want to think about it, but you make it sound like murder. Billy bet his life in the hospital, Y/N! You can't just leave like that , you-"

"Let me explain it."

Max was silent when you interrupted her conversation for the second time,

"I never wanted to bring Billy into this interdimensional, supernatural things or whatever you want to call it. And I didn't want him to see me as a crazy psychopath girl who had wandered into another world, Max." You said looking at Max, she watched your words carefully, "That was when I made a stupid condition, he wanted to date me but I said if he could beat any older girl in Hawkins then I would give him a chance. I know I'm fool, but guess what? It's not worth it at all Max, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Why are you sorry for, Y/N? I still don't understand."

"That night, he said he was going to date Mrs. Wheeler, that's when he fell into the Upside Down, Max. I know that because at that time I didn't see Mrs. Wheeler coming out of her house, and someone called me, it was Billy, but I didn't hear anything but heard..." You stopped for a moment and looked at Max deeply, "Demogorgon's voice?" She suggested.

You nodded, "But that time was different, it was too roaring and fierce. I wanted to tell Hopper but if it was true that Billy was the host I couldn't help but want to protect him, Max."

Max hugged you, you buried your chin in the little girl's shoulder, she stroked your back, "You're just trying to protect him, that's the point, okay? Don't leave him, Y/N, please. He needs you, we need you."

"You're not gonna change?" Max asked as you sat near Billy's body, which was still on the verge of death and life.

You sighed, "No. I want to contain this blood trail even if it makes me look like a murderer."

The door creaked, you stood up to see who it was, it turned out to be Susan and Neil. Susan with her expression of pity immediately hugged her daughter while Neil didn't even show any emotion at all, sometimes you think why did Billy have to go through this? Why didn't Neil, who fell, deserve more punishment?

"Damn it, I knew he would be very troublesome. Should have finished him off first."

Even though the sound he made was very small, your ears were sharp enough to catch it. You don't know why, but you felt really hurt, like someone was trying to split your heart into several parts.

You stepped towards Neil, "Your son is in a coma, and all you can say is 'he's a troublesome''? For fucks sake, why should God give you a heart to live if you can't use it well?"

You could feel Max holding your arm tightly by the collar, begging you to stop.

Neil chuckled, "Watch your damn mouth, young girl."

"No, watch your damn mouth, Neil. My friend here is trying desperately to survive and you? You're his father hoping he dies? Unbelievable. I can just—"

Neil slapped you, you could feel Max's grip getting tighter.

The door banging sounded very loud,

"Mr. Hargrove, you will be detained for investigation as a result of a domestic violence case, you have the right to speak if you have a lawyer."

Officer Powell forcefully handcuffed Neil's hands. Neil couldn't stop cursing your name but you were happy that Billy could finally live without violence.

You looked at Max, Max hugged you, "Thank you."

Billy hasn't opened his eyes for almost a week, you decide to clean yourself up, the kids visit Billy twice a week to accompany Max.

Sometimes Steve, Robin and Nancy also join in to visit Billy, and also make sure you're okay.

Max is at school, you keep convincing her to focus on school and you will take care of Billy. You were cleaning up some leftover food on the patient's table, tying your hair back and leaving some strands of hair on your right side because Billy loved it.

"I told you it's better on the right side, right?"

The familiar voice that dives into your eardrums makes you flinch, startled, remember a thousand languages and your feelings are mixed and you can't explain how.

You turned your head and saw Billy who was smiling, you quickly hugged Billy very tightly, "Be careful, there are holes in my body." His words made you chuckle in between your tears.

You broke away, "I'll call the doctor." But he held your hand and buried you against his body, for a moment you felt comfortable, but you were afraid of making him hurt, so you made a little distance from him, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"It does. But you're my medicine, aren't you?"

You smiled, “I really missed your voice.”

He was the first to realize that you were crying, tears came out of your eyes, he wiped them with his fingers, while you were still looking at him with your sobs, "I fucking hate seeing you cry. Why are you crying?"

You choked on your sobs, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, if I hadn't told you to do the terms of that stupid sentence maybe you wouldn't..." You couldn't even finish your sentence.

Billy tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, while you took a deep breath, "What if you don't make it? If the monster does—"

Billy stroked your back, he was so calm, "Sshh.. It's okay, I'm fine, you're fine. That's what's important now, understand? Look at me, do I look like I didn't make it through that maniac incident?"

Your crying began to calm down, you sighed, holding the wound on his stomach carefully, "Yes, a little."

Billy chuckled, he kissed your hair, “I missed you.”

You shook your head, "No. I missed you, asshole."

There he is. The hug he gave seemed to say that you would be safe from whatever would happen to that cursed town, you really hoped that Billy was still Billy after this incident. Just hearing his heartbeat makes you calm, and you don't feel guilty anymore.

Author's Note : Thank you to all the issea who have read it to the end! I really appreciate it and sorry if this sucks because I can't get straight to the romantic story— but I'll try it! ♡

#Spotify #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #dacre montgomery #stranger things #x reader

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something-special-you-are · 2 months

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yahh this is my ch1 of my first nellfia fic. it's a modern art student au set in the darkroom. go read it babay!!!! pasting it onto tumblr for convenience if u like.. feedback (or reading it at all) is appreciated so much.. i love u

Chapter One:

dead art/impossible things

Nell cursed herself.

She had a free afternoon, and owed Charles a favour - never, ever a good place to be. They were both Foundation students at Broadwater School of Art in Tottenham: old friends from the same year, though rather different disciplines. After a darkroom-related incident that he refused to dig into the details of, he had found himself in Sofia Blancheford's bad books - arguably an even worse place to be. She took rules and regulations very seriously, and though she didn't technically hold any power over what Charles did with his life, the lab was essentially her domain.

"You're not scared of her, are you?"

"Yes! Yes, I am. Please, Nelly, she likes you."

"No, she doesn't."

"Well, she tolerates you a little more than she tolerates me. Which is a big deal."

"Get Amadin to do it, she actually likes him."

"He's a busy man, Nell, and he hates conflict, you know this."

"What, and I love it, do I?"

Claiming pitifully to be banned, he had sent her downstairs to print the photos from a black-and-white fashion shoot of his, tooled with a thin plastic wallet containing the strips of negative film, a contact sheet with the best photos circled along with some numbers, and clear-ish instructions. Holding the sheet up close, they were lovely photographs, Nell thought - they displayed some of the elaborate costumes that Charlie had been crafting over the past couple of months. He was currently upstairs in the main studios, absolutely going to town on an embroidery hoop, desperately trying to finish the details of some decorative garment before the fashion crit next week - meaning he was especially grateful for her help.

The sculptor herself hadn't been in the laboratory since last year, and found it a generally disorienting place, smelling too strongly and all decked out in old, heavy, menacing equipment.

Unfortunately, she was a good friend - and since she rathered Charles not be killed, she stuck by her favour. Hopping down the stairwell, she passed the entrance leading out to the sculpture yard, where early March sunlight and fresh air pooled into the building. Clay dust floated from her jeans to swim around in the pale rays, and she walked a little slower. She turned the corner onto a hallway she rarely came by. The lightroom door was invitingly open.

As soon as she walked in, the harsh vinegar-like smell filled her lungs, and she grimaced. She'd reek by the end of the day. It wasn't a tiny room, but it was packed full; a chemical-stained metal basin stretched the length of the wall, which displayed dozens of safety information sheets, and grids declaring measurements; strings hung from the ceiling, dotted with paper hanging from wooden pegs; plastic equipment that Nell couldn't identify overflowed the shelves above the counter opposite. The door to the darkroom stood to the left, heavy and foreboding and plastered with warnings that Nell didn't bother reading.

She pushed it open and let it click shut behind her, allowing the pitch black to swallow her. Memories of a short, dark corridor returned - there was a second door up a few yards ahead, and all Nell had to do was find the handle - easy enough, but the consuming darkness disoriented her slightly. Fumbling with the final door, the dull red lamps that lined the darkroom ceiling were revealed, along with the quiet, albeit spooky whisper of running water. The light blue trim of her dirty white t-shirt turned grey. It was like stepping into another dimension. She knew the enlargers she needed stood against the walls, so clutching her materials, she moved blindly, and a little too confidently, away from the door - it was not as straightforward as that. She made it not two paces before colliding with an inky, fluttering shape that materialised in the middle of the room. Nell jumped and scrambled to get out of the way.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Watch yourself! And knock, please," they replied indignantly, clearly ruffled.

"I can't see a bloody thing! I thought I was alone in here, you scared me!" Nell protested, then regretted it slightly, because she had no way of knowing who she might be arguing with.

Squinting to adjust her eyes, she made out a dark head of hair and a sharp, cross little face. It was, indeed, Sofia Blancheford. She was not so lucky to have the lab to herself. They were classmates, and vaguely knew each other through Amadin and Charles, but rarely crossed paths - mainly because Nell was usually out and about in the yard, or bouncing around the studios, and Sofia was usually locked up in here. Nell had seen her work during crit; she was a fantastic student. She probably knew more about the darkroom than the technician did. As well as this, she was also reserved, aloof, and a little moody - not unkind, but no class clown, indeed. And now, Nell Trotter had waltzed into her domain and almost knocked her right to the ground without so much as a hello, how are you.

"It says 'knock,' in big red letters on the door," she snapped.

"Right. Well. Sorry. I'm not a big reader," Nell offered, somewhat sarcastically, somewhat flustered. Sofia gave a sigh of exasperation in response, and mumbled something about how it's a good thing I wasn't holding anything dangerous, strutting over to the basins to continue whatever sorcery she was up to. Nell rolled her eyes under cover of darkness, and located an enlarger to work on.

It was time to dust off her photography knowledge. According to her expertise, there was one thing she would need for certain.

"Um, where's the paper?"

There were a couple seconds of silence following Nell's sheepish request, before a curt voice crossed the room in response.

"In the fridge."

Low humming suggested the refrigerator running gently in the corner.

It glowed crimson on the inside to match the rest of the room, and was stacked with boxes of paper and film. She browsed the labels, and made the brave choice to crack a joke.

"No chance of me getting to store my lunch in here, is there? Only, the shared fridge is-"

"No," came the voice again.

Nell smiled to herself and picked the most familiar A5 package, and retrieved a few sheets. They were nice and cold on her fingertips. She inspected them as she sauntered away.

"People keep nickin' my sausage rolls, see," she lamented, to a resounding silence, and arrived back at her station.

Zoning back in, she fiddled with knobs and buttons until she felt confidently refamiliarised, and set to work inserting the first set of slides into the top of the enlarger; she adjusted the size and position, then happily lined up a sheet of paper under the projection, ready to print. She began to feel quite relaxed. The darkroom disoriented her at first, but the ambience of the low light, the gentle hum of electricity, and the soothing, aquarium murmur of the waterbath brought her peace.

She couldn't get too comfortable, because just as she was about to slide away the red filter and expose her paper to white light, Sofia broke the silence once more.

"Is it in focus?"

She was back at her own station, just a few paces to Nell's right, and poked her head around at her classmate's hasty setup.

"Huh?" Nell replied astutely.

"Your slide, is it in focus?"

Before she could protest, Sofia had already floated into her personal space, holding what looked like a little microscope.

"Is this Charles' work?" she interrogated, more than asked.

"I'm doin' him a favour."

Sofia hummed in response.

"Interesting," she muttered, in a way that made Nell wonder why it was interesting at all. "The paper's upside down."

Nell cringed at Sofia's blunt observation, and shamefully flipped it right-side-up, the shiny, light-sensitive layer revealing itself. The shorter woman leant over the paper, placing down her little tool and scrutinising it through the lens.

"It's not in focus. It's blurry," she confirmed, and twisted a little knob around in minute adjustments. For all her proud independence, Sofia was certainly a busybody.

"There. Look now," she ordered, and Nell peered through the little magnifier the same way her classmate did. She saw crisp shapes, the finest grains of the film emulsion. Not really caring, she stood up straight and attempted to shove the tool back in Sofia's direction.

"Right. Thank you. I can get on with it now, if that's alright," she dismissed, eager to be left alone, but Sofia was occupied by squinting at the numbers lit-up on Nell's equipment.

"You're going to overexpose this, surely?"

Nell sighed and shrugged, not really sure how to respond.

"Give me that," Sofia gestured at the contact sheet, somehow making it sound polite. Nell surrendered it reluctantly, and she scanned the digits Charles had scrawled.

"He's written them down, and everything, it's right here," Sofia uttered with confusion. It made Nell feel stupid. There's no reason why she should know what those numbers mean.

"They're his photos, I don't know why you care."

"If you're doing a favour, do it properly. I'll set the ISO and exposure for you, and you can print the rest," she announced decisively.

Nell threw her hands up, because she knew saying 'whatever,' out loud would earn her a nasty glare. She watched as Sofia turned a numbered wheel at the top of the enlarger. The image below got dimmer. She then adjusted the little control panel on the desk, decreasing a digital countdown timer from twelve seconds to four.

"There."

Nell mumbled an ungrateful thank-you, but it was clear Sofia didn't really care whether her help was appreciated or not. She was already busying herself on a different enlarger, once again consumed by her own work.

Turning back to the paper in front of her, Nell decided to just get on with it. She turned the projection off, removed the filter, and pressed a button, and it came back on in pure, gentle, white light. After four seconds it automatically shut back off with a pleasing click, and Nell whisked away the paper, satisfied.

Both students approached the basins with a piece of paper each. The station was a metal rectangle that jutted out at least ten feet from the wall, and was divided into three sections - two long, shallow troughs than ran side-by-side, and the waterbath, which took up the outermost end. The two dry areas had three labeled trays in them each, likely leftover from a workshop, and a tap and drain against the wall. There were pairs of metal tongs in each tray. A handy glow-in-the-dark clock overlooked it all, second hand turning, and a poster listing development times was displayed alongside. Sofia submerged her paper into the first tray, opposite of Nell, checked the clock, and began to tilt the liquid back and forth. Nell did the same, into the tray labeled 'DEV' - she was to leave it in there for sixty seconds, according to the poster. As time ticked by, she watched the magic happen before her very eyes. Under the shimmering reflections of overhead light, the paper at once went from pure white, to clouded with faint grey, to painted with deep, varied tones as the image shyly revealed itself.

"Holy shit," she muttered to herself in awe, and Sofia concealed a genuine smile.

Sixty seconds passed, and they transferred their prints to the trays labeled 'STOP'.

"Yours is dripping everywhere, let the developer drain off a little first. You'll dilute the other trays," Sofia nitpicked.

"Yeah, yeah."

Ten seconds passed in the stop-bath, and Nell scooped the photo up between the tongs.

"Try it this time, don't make such a mess."

Nell rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, and transferred the paper neatly to the final, stronger-smelling tray, labeled 'FIX'. Two minutes would pass in this one, and they passed without words. Sometimes Nell would glance up at Sofia, watching her waiting, and sometimes Sofia would glance back. It didn't really feel as awkward as it should have. Nell lost track of the clock, and snapped back to the task when Sofia moved hers into the wash. They mirrored each others' actions the whole way through. Nell drained hers properly before plunging it in, and they stood at the end of the station, looming over the inky water. Both prints spiralled around in the current amongst other unclaimed pieces.

Nell's (or, Charles') photograph had come out beautifully. The scribbled numbers were correct, and Sofia had adjusted the settings perfectly - the image appeared in sharp focus, with intense tones and exact contrast. She felt a subtle buzz of relief that she might not fuck up the entire batch for him.

The constant water flow babbled over the silence. They lingered there, watching the intricate, mottled images as they somehow contained themselves into neat little squares and swam hypnotically through the blackness. Sofia looked down at them fondly, before delicately rolling up her sleeves and dipping her hand in. The nebulous reflections on the water's surface scattered at her touch. Nell had a feeling that she might react similarly, in its place; Sofia's hands were fine, but agile, and professional in everything they did; they were tools of creation, or magic, or whatever you wanted to call it, and they were at work. She fished out her newest piece, after dragging it to and fro a couple of times under the surface to ensure the chemicals were washed away. Nell instinctually copied her, and the cold water felt good as it swallowed up to her wrist. Her own hands seemed rough and clumsy in comparison. Sofia made a habitat out of the lab; she belonged there, she suited it, in all her witchy, gossamer mystique. They were symbiotic. The woman's probably got night vision.

They inspected the prints together. Some kind of wispy double-exposure shimmered between Sofia's finger and thumb. Nell saw a drapey figure, barely there, disappearing into itself amongst the various other ethereal shapes. Most of it looked like fabric, a spectral veneer of some sort that gathered and stretched, and it glowed. A light source - a flame, maybe - made its way up the composition. The black space was minimal, but it located the subjects in an otherworldly, all-consuming nighttime.

Nell clutched a nonspecifically historical-looking portrait of Charles. Half of his monotone, made-up face was hidden by both a large, ornate fan - cradled in a silk white glove - and the shoulder of an absolutely huge velvet coat, the texture of which had been captured in soft, minute detail. Embroidery, feather trims, buttons, novelty seams, decorative tassels and lace all made for a display of delightfully handcrafted camp. His mouth was hidden, but his eyes smiled coyly at the camera - there was no trace of satire in his expression, or his pose. He might have been in character. He was elegant, feminine, sincere, and squinting in a manner she could recognise anywhere, from behind any outfit - for all of his elaborate, transformative costumes - to Nell, Charlie was distinct.

"He looks quite pretty," Sofia remarked. Nell smiled back at him.

"Yeah, he'll be thrilled to bits with these."

She looked back over at Sofia's work, struggling to find words for the deep, vague mourning - the intense feeling that she is missing something, that an opportunity has been left behind, that the past is running away from her faster than she can catch up with the future - that the picture brought onto her. Water trickled down her forearm and sank into her t-shirt.

"What's, um, your project about?" she asked, rather plainly.

Sofia's eyes flicked between Nell and the photograph, then tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I'm interested in impossible things."

Nell wasn't sure what she as expecting, but the answer intrigued her.

Sofia continued - "Imagine going back in time three hundred years, and showing this to someone. They wouldn't believe it. I can barely believe it. I'm interested in what we don't believe in - the supernatural, if you can call it that. Three hundred years ago, they would hang me for witchcraft, because they wouldn't believe this to be possible without witchcraft." She laughed, even at this morbid thought, without sarcasm; Nell couldn't help but smile at the usually no-nonsense woman's passionate affection for her work.

"I like the idea of comparing traditionally inexplicable myth and legend to the mysteries we've now since solved, and the technology we have today. We're always trying to rationalize things - I mean, analogue photography itself: we can study chemical reactions all we want. We can explain it and write research on it 'til our brains melt. It will never become simple, or dull, or earthly. Just because we understand it doesn't mean it isn't magic."

She looked up at Nell, in a genuine search for connection. She spoke every word like it meant the world, and to her, it really did.

"People can get focused on the most efficient way to get the most predictable end result. They look for corners to cut, control, replicability - making these reactions happen by hand is the antithesis of that. They treat it like a dead art. I love the process. I need the magic."

The whimsy her words held was like nothing Nell ever would have expected from Sofia Blancheford. She watched as those glittery eyes drifted gently back down to the print. Her hands and face were hazy and velvet in the crimson glow of the safelight; there was a mole under her lower lip. A halo of downy black hair incandesced in a similar hue above her head. Nell realised she must have been staring, and felt her own face turn a deep scarlet to match the party - she hoped it camouflaged well. She cleared her throat.

"Well, you're very smart, and the pictures are really good. I hope you write all that down. Very handy for evaluation."

Sofia smiled at her shyly, appreciating even the bluntest of praise. Nell dunked her print back into the cold water.

"I'd better do the rest of these bad boys. Thanks for fixing my stuff."

With that, she turned away briskly and attended to her station. The time passed rather smoothly after that - Nell fell into a peaceful, focused rhythm of work, and Sofia nursed her own creations a couple of enlargers away. Every so often, Nell would crack a joke into the comfortable silence, and Sofia would either ignore her, or crack a funnier one back. If she ever actually laughed, she did it very quietly. To begin with, the company was disappointing at best, and intrusive at worst, but now Nell found herself feeling content to work alongside Sofia - that was, when she wasn't being told off for something inconsequential. Gradually, she hated Charles less and less for getting in trouble and putting her into this situation.

There were around a dozen chosen photos he had circled, and each one was a treat, so it didn't feel like much work at all. He wanted to work in theatre, making costumes and puppets and the like, and his portfolio agreed with him - in the second, he wore a bandit's mask around his eyes, an excessively feathered hat, and a very meek pencil moustache.

In another, he wore a huge, cascading cloak of some sort, patched and quilted and embroidered with dozens of images, flora and fauna and people - a testament to his patience, it seemed. He looked away from the camera, and the garment took up most of the image. It was more of a textile artwork than a functional costume.

Someone lay on the ground in a landscape composition, crowded with faux-fur and other heavy textural materials. It could have been Charles under there, but it was impossible to tell. From the shoulders up, they were obscured by a large sculptural boar's head; it was papier-mâché - Nell had seen it before. It lay there as if dead; it was weathered and off-putting, but Nell's favourite of the bunch. Its monstrous nature, and the ambiguity of the wearer underneath, recalled ritual folk costumes depicting spirits and the like, blurring the line between man and beast. Things like this had interested her for a while. She supposed it wasn't all too different from Sofia's proposal - a deep fascination with the far-fetched - realizing all the wild, inconceivable stories that people must see to believe, and once they believe, they go in terror of.

"Very interesting work," came a voice in her ear.

Nell almost leapt out of her skin when she noticed Sofia peering at the photos from over her shoulder. She hovered like a phantom, wispy hair brushing against Nell's cheek; she didn't seem to care a bit that she had almost stopped the taller woman's heart, and just frowned at her.

"No need to be jumpy. There are only a few vengeful ghosts living down here."

Breezing behind Nell with a dry tray in her arms, she began fishing out the other prints floating about.

"I don't know why you decided to help with Charlie's stuff, if you're so annoyed with him."

Sofia cocked her head innocently. "Why would I be annoyed with him?"

The rather cutthroat photographer wasn't one to hide a grudge, and Nell wondered if she had gotten the story mixed up. Before she could ask any further into it, Sofia gestured to the small pile of wet papers.

"I take it you're all finished? Are you coming to dry them off?"

"Yeah, alright, don't rush me," Nell replied, and deposited her handiwork into Sofia's tray, who waited impatiently by the door for her protégé to gather her other belongings.

"Thanking you kindly," Nell bowed as she passed through the first door that Sofia held open considerately, but was called back with a sharp, "Wait," quicker she could rush to open the second, risking flooding daylight into their little liminal realm.

"Always wait for this door to shut. You could ruin someone's work. It's also why you knock," Sofia ordered.

"Right, wonderful. Well, to my knowledge, literally nobody is in there. Unless they've been extremely quiet."

"It's about the habit," she insisted. By now, the interior door had long since shut and they were arguing in pitch black. Nell didn't care to stay longer than she needed. She swung open the entrance to the lightroom and squinted at the sudden contrast.

"Christ alive, it's like coming out of a casket."

She turned to see Sofia emerging from the gloom - dressed in practically mourning clothes, long hair matching the tone, face as pale as a vampire.

"Explains a lot, actually."

Sofia looked up from the tray, not listening.

"What?"

"What are we up to, then?" Nell diverted, coming to stand annoyingly close to the other artist's side. She hadn't yet seen her under proper light that day, away from the dreamy veil of the laboratory, and gave her a once-over. She wore black, corduroy trousers, that flared slightly over equally black, practical boots. In a tasteful shade of very dark charcoal, she wore a thin, long-sleeved black top that came up high on her throat. The bright blue lanyard almost spoiled it. You'd think she was trying to camouflage in there. No wonder I knocked into her, Nell thought, wear a bloody hi-vis next time.

Sofia didn't care enough to budge, and instead handed Nell a small stack of prints.

"Peg these up, for now."

She turned on a rather loud drying machine and began to feed some photos through; Nell turned to the basins, where strings were suspended wildly from above like vines. They fell into another comfortable silence, facing opposite walls, and the clock ticked closer to the end of the day.

Eventually, Sofia turned the machine off (its absence was noticeable), and she came to busy herself alongside her classmate with a few contact strips that were too small to go through. After a minute, she glanced over at the taller woman, diligently working, and turned thoughtfully to face her.

"You've got a striking side profile," she casually commented. She reached up to Nell's jaw in her fingers and tilt it for a better view.

Nell felt her insides scattering and turning over themselves, like those silvery reflections in the waterbath. She was taken by surprise, but barely thought twice about letting the smaller woman pose her around like a show pony - before she came to her senses and batted the hand away.

"Buy me a drink first, yeah?"

Sofia didn't dignify her with a laugh.

"I don't do many portraits, but I should have you model for me."

She didn't really phrase it like a question. That was the thing about Sofia - she didn't need to speak in hypotheticals. She had that sure-of-herself, naturally commanding presence that seemed to come with being a bit posh.

"Not in a million years, sweetheart."

"I remember when Charlie swindled you into it. You're a bit of a natural. I'd put my own spin you," she reasoned, as if it were an offer she couldn't refuse.

Nell remembered that shoot too, from a few months ago, though fuzzily - it gave her feelings, ones she couldn't place. Sofia was there, to help with the setup, and so was fashion student Polly, as another model. The work was fantastic, but for all of Nell's can-do attitude and brash personality, she was implausibly camera-shy.

"I owed him, again."

"Then I'll have to find you in my debt, somehow."

Again, it came with being posh - but Sofia's intonation did make it sound slightly flirtatious. Nell stood her ground.

"Not happening."

Sofia placed her hands on her hips thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes at her stubborn classmate.

"I have given you my time this afternoon."

"I never asked you to. And that weren't for my benefit, it were for Charlie's."

"I could just as easily have left you to figure it out on your own. You'd have been here 'til dusk."

She raised an eyebrow. Nell squirmed under Sofia's persuasive gaze.

"Let me pick my clothes," she bargained, "And I'll think about considering it."

She held out a handshake, which Sofia suspiciously, hesitantly, reached for. A mistake - Nell, like obnoxious lightning, yanked it out of the way and ran a hand through her hair instead. It was an admittedly smooth execution. She sucked air through her teeth awkwardly as if it were an accident, and grinned mischievously at Sofia.

"Ooh, I ain't that easy, love. Cheers for the science lesson, though, yeah?"

Sofia did not smile. She very clearly seethed, but spoke calmly as ever.

"You are insufferable."

"Good one. I'll see you around, Sof."

The clock struck four. With a suave wink and click of her teeth, Nell took her folder (and blinding grin) and bounced out of the department door, disappearing out of sight - leaving Sofia alone with a flush of furious embarrassment and the familiar notion that something important had slipped through her fingers.

#renegade nell #nell jackson #sofia wilmot #nellfia #renegade nell fic #fanfic #my writing #nell x sofia #louisa harland #alice kremelberg #renegade nell au

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jjtheresidentbaby · 4 months

Note

no rush if you’re not into it at the moment, but could i get some sbg headcanons of Aiden being a chaotic toddler regressor? hes such a cool dude and seeing as how unhinged he already is i think he’d make a pretty crazy regressor o_O

— 🐝

Little Aiden Clark headcanons

a/n: god you are so right about him being completely chaos. this got long asf sorrrryyy

warnings: don’t like don’t read! (specifically putting this here for the sbg fandom), swearing, talk of canon events/fighting/phantom dimension, slight taylor/ben- pretending the asylum plot dosent exist bc this is my post and i get to play god <3

he regresses pre canon with just ben around to watch him and it’s not as chaotic as he is in canon but it’s a lot

his parents & ben’s leave them home alone all the time or at some random hotel while they’re doing work things so aiden is free to bounce off the walls as he pleases

one time he steals a maintenance cart in the hallway of a hotel and ben nearly has a heart attack trying to stop him from going down the stairs on it

will put anything in his mouth.

he’s peak toddler ‘don’t eat that!’

ben doesn’t talk so instead of telling him not to eat things he has to write it down or he just bangs his hand on the table/available surface til aiden spits it out

sugary cereal enthusiast

since he spent so many mornings at hotel he grew accustomed to eating the provided cereals, ie those small boxes of cereal

him & ben definitely stole half the supply and shoved them into ben’s backpack for later when aiden inevitably asked for more

cannot sit still as is but when he’s regressed it gets really bad

many many park trips or beach trips when allowed

him & ben used to play “catch” but it’s more like fetch… as ben would throw the ball as far as possible and aiden would get it just to bring it back to be thrown again

no they never thought about strange this was until taylor said something when she found out about it later on

when canon happens aiden stops regressing for a while

mostly because he can’t get into his headspace when he’s that stressed out but also he’s too exhausted to do his normal kiddo activities so he ends up sad and mopey while regressed

ben hates this.

every single time aiden has said he was going to regress and he needed ben to watch over him only for an hour to go by and aiden hasn’t done a single activity pulled out for him and has just sat there looking depressed- yeah it pushes ben one step closer to losing his shit in the phantom dimension

eventually it gets to a point that the rest of the group gets concerned because ben is angrier than normal and aiden is sadder than normal

they have an “intervention” of sorts and sit the cousins down to talk

ben’s anger deflates as he listens to aiden mumble out how he hasn’t been able to regress and how it’s making him emotional

cue everyone in the room having their heart BROKE cause he sounds & looks like a kicked puppy stg

ashlyn already knows what age regression is (cough she regresses cough) and is able to fill the others in with logan’s help as he also knows what it is

taylor is instantly jumping to take care of aiden and help him regress

tyler goes into Big Brother Mode™️ and tells aiden extremely seriously that he will watch over him and protect him

they don’t realize aiden’s regression is pure chaos yet

but anyway- they schedule a day at aiden’s house where his parents won’t be around and he can regress with all his friends there to encourage him and help him feel better

cue the insanity and impulsiveness that is happy regressed aiden

he is climbing counters, trying to tackle tyler, stealing logan’s glasses to put on and run around in (he runs face first into a door cause he’s already uncoordinated & now has strong ass glasses on), he drags taylor around the entire house giving her a “tour” where he gets side tracked in each room and leaves a mess behind for later aiden to worry about

he doesn’t bother ashlyn much during the day, honestly a little worried with how she’s taking his regression as she struggles showing lots of emotions in expressions and little aiden relies on expressions a lot

but dinner time rolls around and ashlyn and ben start to cook and he’s suddenly very interested in the task

she gently guides him through what each step is, calming him down a fair amount in the process

taylor may or may not have a million photos from this day in her camera rolls & in polaroid form

somehow aiden convinces tyler & ashlyn to play tag in the backyard after dinner

logan & taylor have videos of aiden hiding in the bushes just to jump out onto tylers back while yelling for ashlyn to come tag him

he thinks he’s smaller than he actually is

since he regresses so young he forgets that he’s actually taller than ash and about the same height as tyler

he gets very disappointed when tyler says he’s too heavy to carry around - yes tyler does immediately pick him back up and run around with him on his back for a good fifteen minutes

taylor sits in a patio chair with aiden in front of her so she can pluck the sticks & leaves out of his hair from being outside (ben might be falling in love with her who’s to say)

he demands bedtime stories from logan and tyler

they do the voices & the bedtime stories he gets with ben are audio books that ben flips through at aiden’s bedside so it’s special to have the others read them (ashlyn may or may not have to leave the room cause she can feel herself slipped listening to the stories)

by the time aiden is asleep everyone in the group feels like they need a weeks vacation (only they have to go fight phantoms in a couple hours :/)

however logan says it was good as they now know what to expect when aiden’s regressed

with everything going on it’s still difficult for aiden to find the energy/time to regress so the group comes up with a babysitting schedule to try and help

aiden’s favorite days are when it’s tyler, ben & ashlyn or taylor because he just terrorizes tyler the whole time with whoever else is there to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand

lord have mercy if aiden ever regresses at school

once the group tried to stick it out til the end of the day but from then on have realized that it’s better to just skip the day and head back to whoever’s house is empty

as chaotic and normally happy aiden is while small- the phantom dimension still has an impact on him and can cause him to get emotional or upset when certain things happen

he usually goes to ben or ashlyn when this happens and will happily curl up with them on the couch with a comfort movie going to distract him

he buys everyone in the group a Mother’s Day & Father’s Day gift (gender doesn’t matter) but also makes them cards while small

no tyler & ben don’t cry what are you talking about

taylor gets her cards framed to keep on her desk as a pop of positivity when things get hard

each member of the group actually has a lot of art from aiden while small - they like to compare pieces and pin things on the fridge

some of aiden’s favorite things to do while regressed is to go get ice cream with everyone than go to the park

yes he’s covered in chocolate ice cream & dirt by the time they go home but he’s having fun and that’s what matters

#jj headcanons #school bus graveyard agere #little!aiden clark #aiden clark #🐝 anon

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magixfairyix · 2 months

Text

Return to Sender (S.S.S.)

MAJOR SPOILER regarding a plot point of the third book of Snow, Shadow, and Storm. I am sharing it only because I don't know how long it will take me to get to it considering I am only halfway through book one.

I will share this on here but not on AO3, for spoilers sake.

TW: Violence, very bad gore, swearing

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda was on Ovrum, the dusty and decaying city just as she remembered it from all those years ago. The night before she had a dream, and the day before she got her last wings torn off and was possessed by Lilith's returned spirit; the only one out of the Ancestral Witches who survived.

The Council of Magix decreed that she either forcefully finish the class change from a fairy to a witch, getting her Cosmix and Inseimix wings torn off, or lose her magic and be exiled to Earth.

She chose the first and got possessed by the remains of Lilith that afternoon, her magic close enough to the spirit and mind hurt enough for the possession. Lilith almost controlled Iorda to jump into Rockeluche Ravine to destroy her, but at the last minute, she snapped out of it.

The night after that she had a dream.

Lilith threatened to control Iorda and make her kill Darcy, along with the rest of her friends. She threatened Iorda to do… horrible things. Gruesome thing that she didn’t even want to think of.

That’s why she was here. Iorda would get controlled by Lilith—who still wanted to take over the Magical Dimension—knowing she would lose. Inisemix was more powerful than the Ancestors, and the only thing that would stop her friends from killing her would be that it would be her body fighting them.

Iorda sent a message to Icy, Bloom, and Tecna before she cast a portal to Ovrum from Alfea: Kill me if you have to.

Now the girl stood, breathing in the dusty air. In the center of what would’ve been an arena centuries ago was the second tree of life, its bright green branches and buds reaching a height twice as tall as her. No pixies guarded it; it was a backup and its location had to remain hidden.

A slight breeze began to blow around the area, lifting up small clouds of sand. The wind was not reassuring, and Iorda could feel the darkness in it. She stopped herself from wrapping her arms around her midsection. A sense of dark magic could be felt behind her, and she turned around to see the spirit of Lilith several meters away from her.

“Lilith,” Iorda greeted diplomatically, glaring.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda walked through the main hall of the Council Building, fabric of the Inseimix form trailing behind her. Deep inside her body she could feel the need to run away, to stop this before it was too late, but all she could feel was a deep anger. Lilith was bringing all her resentment up from where it was buried to that nothing else could be thought of; no rational thought, only anger.

Anger became fuel for her magic, stirring a need for revenge.

At the end of the hallway two tall golden doors etched with gemstones flew open and several guards holding various phantom-weapons rushed out. A shrill ringing sounded out through the hallway, the warning light above the door flashing red desperately. Iorda focused on the one with short black hair, bringing her anger up to the surface as she flicked her wrist, snapping the specialist’s neck.

He fell. Not dead, but dying.

Iorda wasn’t going to give any of them a quick death.

The battle only went on for several minutes. Trained specialists rushed forwards after hesitating, swinging or firing their weapons. Iorda had more power, but less experience. At least she would have had less experience if she wasn’t being controlled by one of the Ancestors.

She transported out of the way of attacks, creating shards of darkness at the same time that she fired. Specialists were pinned to walls from the force of it, either by their limbs, neck, or straight through their skulls. There was no mercy.

When all of them were restrained, screaming in pain on the ground, or even dead, Iorda brushed her hair out of her face. She both shuddered and relished the smell of the blood, but she didn’t care for the first. With a merciless expression she walked over the dead bodies, shoes coated in blood.

It was all Lilith controlling her, bringing up past anger and resentment that drove her to this. Or maybe it was the opposite. She’d been mind controlled before and this moment felt more peaceful. She didn’t know, all Iorda wanted to do was to make them suffer.

She rested a hand on the towering doors, and inside would be the council chamber. Orue and Ycrea would be in there; the two council leaders. A small smile played across Iorda’s face. She waved her glowing hand and the doors slowly swung open, creaking, slowly revealing the council chamber; a room with a long table spanning the length of it, Orue sitting at the two ends of it, running about the room.

“Fire!” Orue screamed, and Iorda felt content at the unease in his voice.

All the magea and specialists in the room turned towards Iorda and began firing spells and magic bullets, some transformed and levitating, some rushing forwards with blades. More magic was focused to Iorda’s mind than ever—Lilith—and she, deep down, felt fear before it was snuffed out.

Her eyes glowed dark purple, focusing on her mind and everyone else's besides Orue’s, and heard a snapping sound that didn’t truly exist. Everyone fell to the ground, blood spilling out of their mouths and some their eyes. Psychic magea do not truly just control thoughts, but manipulate the brain and its areas. With enough power it is easy enough to make one’s brain snap and bleed.

“You’re alone now,” Iorda said cruelly, her voice her’s but the tone was Lilith’s.

“S-stay back, witch!” Orue yelled, backing up against the wall with an emergency phone in hand. There was no worry if he’d call the authorities or not, because they’d be killed if they ever decided to come.

“Witch,” Iorda said, tasting the word on her tongue as she slowly walked closer, hands waving and bringing up shadows from the ground. “You said I wasn’t enough of a witch a few days ago. Ordered my last two wings to be torn off, or else I would lose my magic and be exiled to Earth.”

“Y-you—” Orue stuttered, firing a powerful sphere of magic that Iorda destroyed within seconds. “Your magic was unstable. You were a danger to us all—”

“Do you know what it's like?” Iorda asked darkly, stepping closer to him until she was only a meter away, wisps of shadows undulating and swirling around her. “To go through that kind of pain?” She pursed her lips. “But you’ll learn.”

“You—” Orue narrowed his eyes. “Fine you fiend, I apologize.”

“Apologies aren’t enough,” Iorda said darkly, eyes and hands glowing brighter. She wasted enough time talking, and deep inside she had to get revenge. That sensation itched deep within her soul, the need to see those who made her suffer go through it tenfold.

Shadows began to stir below her, the ground below undulating, and with her hands she guided the shadows around her. It was like a sort of serparted snake. Iorda knew what she would do to Orue, and as she flicked her hand forwards she did it.

The wisps of shadows flew out towards Orue that he failed to avoid, disturbingly going through his mouth and through his body, bringing agonizing pain as he gasped for air and for it to stop. Iorda felt a smirk that wasn’t her own come across her lips, and a feeling of satisfaction that was her own.

That is… until she felt familiar energies appear behind her.

“Iorda,” Icy said, hands out peacefully but her voice wavered. All the Winx as well as Darcy and Stormy were watching closely. “You have to calm down.”

“This isn’t you,” Bloom said slowly. “It’s Lilith.”

“Of course it’s me,” Iorda—Lilith—said while tilting her head, the shadows still mutilating Orue so much that his screams were silent. “Do you really think the girl would have enough strength to exact revenge herself?”

“Then she’s still in there,” Stella said quietly to the others.

“Leave. Now,” Iorda said with a half smirk, glaring. “The agreement was that you all would be left unharmed if the girl agreed to be possessed.” She paused, the darker and more solemn side of Iorda wanting to come out but failing. “Do you truly know how much your friend wants revenge?”

“Iorda wouldn’t kill people!” Musa snapped.

“That’s her main emotion she uses for her magic,” Iorda said while smiling, her expression struggling between a smile and an agonized frown as she glanced at the group. “Vengeance. You know that, don’t you? How deep the need inside the girl to get revenge goes?”

Aisha frowned before stepping forwards. “We know you want vengeance, but… Iorda you’ll hate yourself if you do this—”

“Oh right,” Iorda interrupted with a smirk, hand still glowing and Orua still in agony. “You went through something similar, didn’t you? When your precious Nabu died?”

Aisha bit back a glare, and Darcy rested their hand on her shoulder. “It’s Lilith.”

“Iorda is stronger than you,” Bloom said angrily, hand glowing orange. “She will get out of this and fight your control. You won’t win.”

“Oh I’m not an idiot,” Iorda said as she tilted her head. “I know the girl would get back control eventually and fight all these deaths she’s causing, but why do you think I’m saving the best for last?”

Darcy thought to themself. They knew that Iorda did have a lot of people she resented, and they knew for sure who she wanted revenge on the most. Ame was in Light Rock trying to be rehabilitated, and for all the scars—mental and physical—she left on Iorda during their brief relationship that was only a way for Ame to get rid of the 'threat' Iorda was; believing that she was the cause for the trouble the Magcail Dimension had faced.

Lilith could very easily tempt Iorda to get rid of her.

Darcy saw the brief look in Iorda’s eyes that was hers before Lilith smirked.

“Seems like my business is done here,” Iorda said with a chilling smile, snapping her fingers and… Orue fell to the ground, blood leaking out of his mouth. She shook her head, wincing slightly before smiling again. “You’d do well to stay out of my way.”

With a wave of her hand, Iorda transported away with black and purple light.

Darcy breathed out shakily, unable to move.

The rest of the group rushed over to the bleeding bodies, but Orua had no pulse.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda walked through the empty halls of Alfea. Her anger felt more prevalent than when she killed Orue, more her’s and easier to control. But Lilith was still there, locking away all of Iorda’s hesitation so all she could feel was the suggestion of the witch and her own need for revenge.

When Iorda entered the school Headmistress Faragonda had told all of the teachers and students to go into lockdown until either the Winx or Trix would get there. Iorda had Inseimix, and she could very easily kill who she wanted with her own power and Lilith’s. Steps echoing through the hall, Iorda walked towards a very specific classroom.

She reached the door, hearing very quiet voices from inside. With a slight smirk, she tried to open the door only to find that it was locked, and she rolled her eyes. With a wave of her hand, the edge of the door shattered and she slowly walked in to see transformed fairies and a transformed Dufour on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes locked on a specific target: Alyssa.

For a long time, Alyssa had been a pain to Iorda, calling her a witch while she still learned at Alfea, and saying that she didn't belong when she began to fully become a witch from a fairy; Lilith's magic within her finally becoming too much for her to remain a fairy.

Dufour waved her hand and a glowing white sphere shot out towards her, but Iorda scoffed and waved her hand, a small shield of darkness appearing in front of her that quickly snuffed out of the spell.

“Leave, Iorda,” Dufour glared, hands glowing again. “Lilith.”

“Lilith, Iorda…” Iorda mused in a playful tone, one that with most definitely Lilith’s, hand resting on a desk. “Who cares who it is? The only thing that matters is that I suggest that all of you try to make this easy on yourse—”

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the fear in Alyssa’s eyes that made her think of herself. Of all the fear Iorda felt during those weeks several months ago, being locked up in that cell while Ame slashed a knife over her face, calling her a monster. Her hand began glowing purple and she let out a cry as she tried to push back against Lilith’s magic.

“Stop!” Iorda screamed, stumbling back, before her head rolled as if stretching and she resumed a smirk. “Irritating. Now…” Her hand glowed brighter, and a small shard of darkness started forming in her hand. “I think you all know who—”

Within a quick and horrifying second, Iorda gripped the shard tight, half under her own control, and stabbed her own hand that was on the desk. She screamed shrilly, throwing her head back as tears fell down her face. She hated Alyssa with a burning passion, but she knew the fairy was just the result of a fucked up system full of prejudice.

Towards witches, those who weren't 'good.'

She trembled, knowing that she deeply wanted to kill Ame next and that she would once Lilith encroached on her control again; on her thin restraint. Iorda focused her magic, shaking as she pulled her hand away from the shard stuck in the desk, tearing flesh but she didn’t trust herself enough to not throw the shard at Alyssa if she got it out of the desk.

She transported herself away again, to Ovrum.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The Winx and the Trix rushed into the classroom, eyes widening when they saw the shard of darkness stabbed into the desk, the blood on the ground, and Dufour comforting a shaking Alyssa at the back of the classroom.

“What the ome happened?” Stormy questioned, forcing himself to look away from the blood.

“S-she—” Alyssa stuttered, hunched over herself. Dufour rested a shaky hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “She stabbed… stabbed herself to… t-to stop herself from… k-killing me…”

Darcy’s eyes widened with worry. “What?”

“In… in the hand,” Dufour said, realizing that Darcy’s mind went straight to the worst case scenario. “She was going between herself and… Lilith. She had stabbed herself in the hand to get some control back, at least that is what I assume.”

“Where did she go?” Tecna asked immediately.

Darcy closed their eyes for a short moment, realizing that Iorda’s energy was no longer at Alfea. The two of them could feel each other's presence—being each other's magical balance—if they focused. After a few seconds with the group staring at them expectantly, Darcy opened their eyes.

“She’s on Ovrum.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda was on her knees hunched over herself, hands digging into the brown stone of Ovrum. It was the only way she could keep herself controlled temporarily; staring at her mutilated hand that rested and bled on the stone, giving her fear and horrible memories, but it kept Lilith away for the time being.

She knew it wouldn’t last long.

For a brief second still in her consciousness she felt familiar energies transport onto Ovrum across the dusty plane. Iorda remembered in her last second of control that she asked Icy, Bloom, and Tecna to kill her if needed. She accepted that.

Her mutilated hand didn’t seem as bad, as startling, and she stood up slowly before turning around. Iorda could feel her bitterness at the interruption, her desire to kill Ame after this was done, and the only part that was Lilith was the lack of restraint Iorda had, of second-guessing.

“You’re here,” Iorda stated, a small calm frown that was her’s.

“Iorda, it is you…?” Flora asked slowly—all of them knew that the last event at Alfea meant that Lilith’s control was lessening and lessening. The group waited, not moving.

Iorda paused, glancing across the group before speaking. “More me than Lilith, if that’s what you’re asking, but…” She shrugged coolly. “You are all going to let me kill Ame. That’s the only person I want dead, and I will do it.”

Bloom and Icy shared a hesitant look, but it was Musa who spoke. “You killed Orue, remember..?”

“He deserved it,” Iorda said bluntly, and Musa jeered back. She crossed her arms in front of her calmly, hands only slightly glowing and barely noticable. “They both do.”

“I want Ame dead just as much as you, Iorda,” Darcy said slowly, trying to stay calm. Tecna raised a brow at them. “She does deserve it, but you’ll hate yourself if you do this.”

“I can deal with the hate,” Iorda said venomously, voice shaking with anger. She could feel her restraint lessening even further. “What I can’t deal with is that the only repercussion Ame got was Light Rock. For all the bullshit she put me through!”

She breathed shakily, tears burning in her eyes. All of her pain and agony from what happened was going through her, but above else, all the anger. Her hands glowed slightly brighter, and her arms were no longer calmly crossed; they were at her sides, hands clenched into firsts.

“She deserved worse, yes, but if you kill—” Tecna started.

“If she’s dead then at least I’m not staying up at night!” Iorda snapped, stepping forwards. “At least I can fucking rest knowing that she’s not still alive and that I don’t have to worry about her coming for me again!” She breathed out shakily, tears falling down her face as she chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face. “She’s alive. She’s alive and I—I have to go through what she did.”

There was dead silence, no one knowing how to stop this.

“You know what?” Iorda said after a pause, smirking, a horrible sight with her bleeding hand and the tears soaking her face. “I’m going to put her in the ground, and if you all want to stop me—NO!” She screamed, gripping her injured hand with the other tightly and she screamed before the dark smile returned. “Then I am not above fighting you all”

Iorda waved her hand and focused on her magic, hands glowing. The Winx and the Trix transformed in a second, all of them in the Inseimix transformation. They would win against Iorda, but the only question was at what cost they’d be able to stop this when she had Lilith’s magic along with her own.

While levitating around the battle—the group trying to fire spells to retrain her, Iorda simply transporting out of them—Iorda could only feel her rage towards Ame. Deep down she felt fear of hurting her friends, but Lilith would never let that feeling break through enough for her to stop.

Darcy, Musa, Aisha, and Icy flew back down to the ground, trying to catch their breaths. Icy was concerned that the only way to fix the situation was to do what Iorda requested, but Darcy breathed in shakily.

They had another idea.

“I’m…” Darcy glanced at Musa, voice full of hesitance. That was a desperate situation and the witch knew it, even though they'd regret doing what they planned to Iorda. “I’m going to try to… mind control her.”

Musa paused before speaking. “Would… that work?”

“Even if it doesn’t it might lessen Lilith’s hold on her mind,” Tecna said, and the four of them shared a worried glance before nodding. Icy and Musa flew up to tell the other of the plan, and they all began fighting Iorda again with the new intent of letting Darcy get close enough.

It took a long time of tiring fighting, but eventually Iorda stumbled back with a tear-filled glare as a convergence spell between Bloom and Stella hit her shoulder, wincing in pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder as felt an influence that wasn’t Lilith’s, and before she knew it she had whipped around to face Darcy with another shard of darkness in her hand.

“Iorda, no!” Flora screamed from above.

At the last moment before she would stab Darcy, Iorda stepped to the right while in motion so the blade just barely missed the witch’s side. She couldn’t. She couldn’t do this. Iorda gripped the blade with her hand and stabbed it into her midsection, screeching out in pain as she fell to her knees.

She sobbed, hunched over herself as she sobbed.

She had some control.

But when she felt the influence again as a trembling hand rested on her shoulder, she welcomed it immediately and let it take over her mind before her head dropped. Iorda’s eyes closed, falling forward before arms wrapped around her.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Note: Well guess I'll post one-shots here on Tumblr/story moments that are related to the S.S.S. storyline.

At this point of the story, Icy and Bloom are dating, Musa and Stormy are dating, though Iorda and Darcy are still platonic.

Buzzkills and Butterflies (B&B) is the tag for S.S.S. storyline moments cause likely there will be more XD

#sss #winx club fanfiction #B&B

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