#we’re all weird and we can be weird and strange together

[ajortga]

can you keep a secret?

pairing: wednesday addams x werewolf fem reader

summary: you miss your girlfriend who's recently transferred to nevermore academy. your persistent whining is able to transfer you to nevermore and cling onto her the whole time there.

word count: 5k+

based off request!

-

W and R are in a relationship, W transfers to Nevermore. W and R may not have anything in common, but they do on some things, like R being an outcast as well (a werewolf ), R insists their parents that they transfer to Nevermore too. After they successfully did, R immediately finds W, the outcast's curious to what'll happen to R (obvi doesn't know they knew each other).. Basically every student in Nevermore sees them together everyday. One, asks W who R is to W, she answers truthfully, "They're My Lover." everything and everyone just goes crazy

-

“Cara mia, we live next to each other,” Wednesday says softly, brushing your hair back as you braid her black silky hair.

You hum, a little sad, finishing to braid her two tiny braids that hung low to her chest.

“But I won’t see you in school, baby." A huff escapes your lips as your girlfriend sighs, giving up on trying to coax your madness.

“Or at all,” you add, “you’ll have a damn dorm with some girl that you’ve never seen before. It’s not fair.”

The raven-haired girl rolls her eyes, “I’ll cut off my heart with the sharpest knife I know if I ever started to love someone more than you,” Wednesday suggests, trying to make you feel better.

She cups your cheeks as you refuse to speak and rubs her thumb gently around the pink tint covering them. A way to always make you feel better. Yet she knows better because you certainly don’t look better.

“We’re both outcasts Weds. My stupid parents just won’t allow me to transfer because they think Nevermore is weird. Yet they went to school there. That's not fair."

“They’re just trying to protect you. I'd feel that way too for our daughter if Nevermore had hurt me. If someone ever hurt you, they’re death will be a long one. Sufferable and miserable. So bad that they’ll beg for forgiveness before they bleed out.”

Usually Wednesday would expect you to smile and giggle, but you’re not. Why does your girlfriend have to leave you?

“Can’t you stay?” You ask, voice tiny.

“As much as I sneak out, Mother has already informed everyone including your parents not to let me stay the night. They are used to my.. Tactics per say.”

Your sharp nails from your growth as a soon to be wolfed out werewolf emerges, clawing the wood you attached to your wall when this kind of stuff happens.

"I can sneak you in and I'll even build you a door in my closet," you suggest.

"No, Y/N."

"What if we install a life-like robot and I'll sneak out with you?"

"No."

You huff angrily, slashing the wood.

Wednesday firmly takes your hand, and your hand almost scratches her, yet it stops as you don’t want to hurt her, “Stop that.”

“No,” you state, tugging your hand away and sinking them into the wood, so hard that a big ass dent forms.

Your girlfriend sighs, rolling her eyes as she sweeps her bangs away from her eyes, “I don’t know what you want me to do bambina. Maybe I could.. Sneak you away from this horrid place. But at what cost? Nevermore seems strange. Not strange in a way I’d want to discover in mysteries though.”

She sees the way you sigh, disappointed. Upset.

“You’ll be there for a whole school year, it’s far.”

“I’ll bring my typewriter. Distance won’t change that, swear on my cemetery. I’ll write you letters at night, secretly take the principal's mailbox and send them to you. Or I’ll threaten Thing in my backpack and crawl till he can give it to you.” Wednesday isn’t kidding, her stare is cold, well usually it was cold, but not towards you. “He can suffer in thorns, I’ll stitch him up, just as long as.. You’ll write back?”

You nod, yet you don’t care about the letters, you care about her.

“You’ll send them?”

“Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Yes.”

“What if you begin to stop when you feel like it’s not working anymore?”

“I won’t Y/N.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

"No you don't, you don't know the future."

"But I do know that I won't stop sending my letters. I can feel it."

You stop scratching the wood and you bury yourself on Wednesday, breathing in her scent as you try to comfort yourself. Yet even when the lights are off, your heart is pounding, feeling alone.

-

A tear falls from your cheek as you watch Lurch stuff his trunk, Wednesday talking to her mother and father, while hesitantly hugging Pugsley. 

“You’ll have so much fun.” Morticia says, with a smile, kissing her cheek and staining it slightly with her black lipstick.

“Define fun as boring and a punishment, sure,” Wednesday stiffly responds, yet softens as she looks at you. She takes her mother’s hand off her shoulder and approaches you.

“If you cry, it'll be raining all day. And you don't want it to be all gloomy for you? I don't want my socks wet. A poem, along with two pages written in a small font. One to express my day, and one to express that stupid love so you can sleep peacefully at night with nightmares.” Wednesday says, stopping for a moment, “sweet nightmares,” she adds.

You nod, yet your tear stained cheeks aren’t really helping, she reaches up and wipes it off with her thumb. Then let you hug her, you immediately bury yourself into her and she sighs.

“I’ll be thinking of you, till every grain of sand can be counted.”

You watch her approach the car, then slip in. She has the window scroll down, and you look at her. As the car engine roars, you bite your lip. And slowly watch it wheel away. Slowly jogging till it’s out of sight.

-

It’s been two weeks. And sure enough, Wednesday has kept her promise. She’s sent you letters you’ve kept in your drawer, they’re never repetitive, but always show you love. You like it like that, knowing that it isn’t a chore for her to write letters for you. If anything, they’ve lengthened in size as she's sent more and more.

It makes you miss her a little more. You have to hug your life-sized stuffed animal at night that she sprayed her perfume on. She also left half a bottle on your counter, just in case it runs out. Though it takes longer to sleep, it makes you feel a little better knowing there was something that was like a piece of her beside you.

Thing has visited you, and you know that little guy has a huge memory. You lost the letter you were going to hand Thing, and though you were a little sad, he moved his fingers and you realized you could speak to him for hours and he would tell Wednesday every detail. She had even wrote to you,

~

I owe Thing a thank you, yet he can be provoking at times. He had communicated to me for an hour, thirty minutes, and thirty two seconds about your day. I always wonder what secrets lay in the Addams Family. Yet I’m not quite comprehending why Thing has a big memory space.

Nonetheless, I think about you everyday. My roommate, Enid, has been unpleasant with her interesting taste of fashion and colors. It’s distracting. In a negative way. You’re distracting in a way where I can’t take my eyes off your enticing figure Y/N. Weems had bothered me the whole day, smothered me with questions and made sure I was doing fine. No wonder why mother got along with her so much. Those two are like the same person just one with smothered ink. But, something that sparked my particular interest was that you can dorm with two other people. Thing had told me that there was an accident at your school. If you’d like, which I’d appreciate, could ask your mother about transferring, say it’s dangerous. You aren’t a late wolfer, but convince her possibly that Nevermore can increase your chances. Wish you were here, I hate Mr. Tuesday. That white bunny is always staring at me during my typing time. But I can tolerate him a bit more, knowing you gifted it to me. You love Mr. Tuesday, so I appreciate your gesture. It’s not often I get visions, but they’ve almost made me want to experience them more. I see you in them, baking. Writing to me. It makes me almost happy.

Enid keeps trying to get to know me, she’s a strange soul, but she’s a werewolf, like you. You two are nothing alike, yet I think you two would get along a bit too much. Except you don’t blast random glitter pop music during the night. During my WRITING TIME. Even thinking about it rots my brain. But I miss you cariño. Sleep tight, I’ve left at least 300 things to hide in your house and you’ll never expect where they are. But everyone is special, it’ll make you at least smile a little when I tell you each night. Today’s item is snuck inside your bed, I used Mother’s chainsaw to cut through the wood, it’s a tiny version of Mr. Tuesday. I asked Thing the other day to sneak it in that spot and he sanded the wood back in. It should be a sort of door. But I crocheted it during my free time, there are times where I can’t think during my writing time. That is an understatement, but I only think of you. But I’m hoping you can enjoy it for today.

Love you, sleep cozily,

Weds

-

You smile as you look under your bed, now noticing the small outline from Wednesday’s chainsaw and you open the little compartment to see another crocheted white bunny of Mr. Tuesday. You nuzzle it and place it on your desk. You love him. You even spent a few minutes grabbing white yarn and attaching it to your tote bag.

You think about what Wednesday said, someone had gotten hurt in your school from being stabbed by a senior that was drunk. Obviously he didn’t mean it. But you had seen how anxious your mom got when she found out the news.

It was 11:23PM, and your mom’s room light was illuminated from the hallway. You get out of bed, ruffle your hair, and approach her room. Your only thought is Wednesday.

-

Before you could even ask, you already noticed her holding a black card, the logo of Nevermore Academy apparent. It said in bolded letters, 1965 Jericho’s long lasting Nevermore Academy. One for outcasts.

“Mom?” You said, your voice slowly quiet, and she looked up at you, waving you over.

“Hi honey,” she replies, “I’ve been thinking about the accident at your school. And I know you don’t like that place that much. And as much as I feel like I should keep you there. Your safety is important to me.”

Your excitement grows, you want to have that wide smile off your face.

“So?...” You question, wondering if she was saying what you were thinking she meant.

“And you keep bringing Wednesday up. So me and Morticia talked, and I talked with your father. We’re going to send you to Nevermore, but only if you want to. As long as you write to us every end of the week and call us. We want our little wolf to meet ones like her. It’s not often you find ones like us here.”

You nod.

“Yes!”

You didn't even think it would be that easy.

-

As soon as you get the news you squeal and call Wednesday early in the morning. She responds almost quickly, her voice on the other line, “What brings you to call me this early Y/N?”

“I’m transferring to Nevermore!” You say, you were much more excited but your tired voice betrayed you.

There’s a pause, then a small, “What?”

“I’m coming!”

A laugh and you can almost feel your girlfriend smiling with a toothy grin with her ear pressed to the phone.

“I knew your parents would let you go somehow,” she says, voice more excited, yet anyone else would not notice but you.

You can hear some rustling, “I’m going to ask Weems if you can dorm with me. I can kick Enid out for all I care, yet she isn’t horrible. Just, I’d rather spend it with you if she doesn’t allow a three dorm. Maybe I shouldn’t bring up a three dorm at all.”

“Thing, go back home and ask Father if Lurch can drive Y/N to Nevermore. Actually, include that if he won’t ask, I’ll shave his head off. Also make sure that he sprays two times of her favorite perfume, have her favorite sour candy ready, her headphones, her books, and tell him to pack some melon milk for her too. And her cow stuffie. Make sure he’s playing the playlist she made that’s saved in the car.”

There is a pause, and she makes a small, ‘oh oh’

“Baby,” Wednesday doesn’t call you that much, but when she does you’re over the moon. It usually shows that she’s happy. Really happy, yet her voice is still soft and composed, “I installed a door behind your clothes in your closet, guess we’ll unwrap the 300 presents when we go home. But I got another Mr. Tuesday there, he has some sort of costume on.” 

She pauses, you hear a random girl jumping up and down in the background, squealing about something as your girlfriend groans and presses her ear back into her phone, sending Enid an annoyed glare, “Pack your stuff, I’ll be waiting. I might as well cut my ears off if Enid won’t stop blabbing her mouth off.” You can tell that Wednesday turns her head to face her new roommate, she says louder, since Enid couldn’t hear her talking to you, “Better yet, slice her mouth off.” Then Enid’s squeals die down.

You grin through the phone as you grab out another version of Mr. Tuesday with a mushroom hat, you hug him tight.

The doorbell rings and you hear your mom open it, putting Wednesday on speaker phone.

“I’m almost done packing.”

“Y/N, honey. Mrs. Addams requests to see you,” your mother’s voice echoes through the hallway and you glance at the door.

You don’t know how Wednesday can hear it but she does, “I’m taking into conclusion that she received my message. Oh yes, she replied with those stupid icons. Yet it is one of a thorny rose and a gravestone.”

“Coming!” You stuff your bags, “Be right back.”

-

You almost choke as Morticia brings you into her embrace, hugging her back with an easing gentleness.

“Hello little one,” her soft voice says, the one you find comfort in as much as you do Wednesday’s. She gently rubs your hair, “I informed Lurch for your arrival, he’s outside whenever you’ll be ready dear. I’m so glad you decided to willingly join Nevermore. It has been a place that holds many memories. It’s where I met Gomez and fell in love. Maybe Wednesday and you can find the secrets in it. Go on journeys with her. Dig some graves, set them on fire."

It weird you out, but you smile, nodding, “To spend it with Wednesday is all I need.”

“You’re a special soul, a pure heart I can handle. Now go,” she waves you away, “Don’t keep him waiting for long.”

You give her one last grin and look over your shoulder before turning the corner.

-

After hanging up on Wednesday when you finish packing all your bags, your mother and father hug you goodbye and give you your favorite cranberry juice. Sweet.

It’s cozy in the Addams car, comfortingly with no talk, just the music Wednesday requested (forced) Lurch to play that lingers in your playlist. You feel like a butler with all the requests Wednesday smothered him with.

An hour passes and you can see the way the clouds slightly come into view, then you see the environment change as a sign that reads, “Welcome to Jericho! A Town of History”

Then, you finally see the academy in view, and Lurch arrives right in front, before taking your bags and guiding you to Principal Weems.

“It is my honor to have you here at Nevermore. This school has history, and where you’ll certainly grow,” her smile is wide, a little too welcoming it gets a little scary.

You just give small mumbles and nods, “Well, Morticia called me this morning and I quickly looked through your demographics. It also isn’t a coincidence that you have straight A’s. A 4.3 GPA. Many extracurriculars, and of course, you’re a werewolf. I see.”

“It is no surprise also that you had gone to the same school as another student who just enrolled, Morticia’s daughter, Wednesday. She sure is.. Different. But nonetheless talented. She had asked me yesterday afternoon if it was possible to have a dorm of three, and I’m assuming that you have been planning to dorm with her for the rest of the semester?”

She reads your mind, you immediately nod your head up and down, “Yes.”

“Well, most of the 3 dorms have been occupied, but her and Enid seem to have a slow relationship. I’ll have her in my office today, but by the end of the night or tomorrow morning I’ll give you my answer.” Weems scribbles on a note, writes some address and a name, “You’ll be rooming with Yoko, sound okay?”

You nod.

“Alright, I’ll call Enid up, for your guide.”

“..Guide?”

She nods, “Of course, we have many classes you can do, and people you can meet. She knows this place well, and I know that she’ll open up your shell.”

-

As Wednesday watches Enid leave, a soft grin forms on her face as she unties Thing from the random crocheted pink jacket Enid made for him.

Her eyes scan Enid as the door closes, then she turns to him, “I’m expecting Y/N is here. I’ve crocheted a questionable amount of Mr. Tuesdays.” She informs, “I shouldn’t have admitted that,” Wednesday sighs, as she pulls out the drawer next to her to reveal at least 40 assorted sizes of the same bunny. There were some in outfits, wigs. Wednesday almost finds it as therapeutic as her writing time. She crochets them whenever Enid leaves their dorm.

Thing smacks his head, and the braided girl glares at him, “Don’t judge me, I can cut off your fingers any time,” she threatens, seeing the way Thing surrendered with two fingers up in the air.

Then he moves around his fingers and does random hand movements.

“You think I’d follow Enid and try to make conversation with Y/N so much that Enid will get suspicious? You’d really think I’d do that?” 

Thing agrees.

“Then, you know me too well, let’s go.”

-

“Enid, glad you’re- Wednesday? It seems like you’ve tagged along,” Weems adds as she almost seems surprised, looking at her. If anything, the look in her eye is cautious.

“Yes,” Wednesday responds, trying to avoid the way your eyes almost smile as you look at her, but if anyone else were to look at you, they wouldn’t notice. “I’ve decided to accompany Enid, this is much more exciting than some other events at Nevermore,” she adds again, not entirely rude.

You sit in the middle while Wednesday takes the only left seat available, scooches her chair closer. Her hand rubs over yours after meeting under the covers of Weem’s desk. She takes note of how a small smile creeps on your face when Weem talks because of that.

“This is actually so awesome,” the blonde cheers next to you, making you turn your head and turn it, confused.

“We’re both werewolves silly! We should dorm 3 together! Wait, are there even any 3 dorms left?” When the principal shakes her head no, Enid sighs, “Then Wednesday can pair with Yoko. Actually, she barely even talks to Yoko, let alone handle her better than she’ll be able to handle me.”

You blink, glance at Wednesday for a moment and she shakes her head frantically.

“What if I dorm with her?”

The question leaves everyone silent, well everyone is surprised but Wednesday.

“You’d want to room with Wednesday while Enid rooms with Yoko?”

There's a lingering silence as you look around, “Why not? I'd like to get to know her better,” you lie. The most you want to do is get to talk to your girlfriend again.

"Oh. You don't want to, you know, get to know Wednesday before actually having to dorm with her?"

"Nope."

"Well, then that’s settled for your dorm. I’ll have to file Enid for a dorm change. But I’d like to ask if that is okay for both Wednesday and Enid.”

“Yes,” your girlfriend immediately responds, then coughs a little to cover up her excitement that’s masked behind her calm demeanor. “I can take a break from someone that is the complete opposite of me.

“I’d be happy to dorm with Yoko, at least I can have my music playing at night and my glitter-”

“My ears are bleeding Enid, don’t mention that word you just said.”

“Glitter?” Enid questions.

“No.”

You giggle from your girlfriend’s demeanor, squeezing her hand under the desk.

-

“This is Ophiela Hall! You don’t need to find your people here, you can make plenty of friends in other groups, but you have a group of werewolves! And what makes it even better is that we haven’t wolfed out!” Enid jumps up and down and you watch her legs bounce up and down, up and down. She’s like a whole party.

People give you two small looks, both you and Wednesday can tell they’re almost surprised she tagged along with someone whos new. It makes you smile a little.

Your girlfriend notices them whispering about you. Not anything bad, you seem like the sweetest person out of them all, but they’re whispering about the two of you. Even Bianca gives you a cautious look, but you’re too distracted to know what their saying as Enid keeps talking to you and dragging you along. Wednesday follows like a puppy.

“Enid, hey.” A boy speaks up, and you turn around at the new voice, he’s wearing blue and a beanie. The same tie everyone is wearing.

“Oh hi Ajax, this is Y/N. She’s new and I’m showing her around.”

A glare is thrown at Ajax as your girlfriend exhales. You give a small wave, “Hi.”

“You a werewolf too?”

You nod, seeing the way his hat kind of turns sideways, poking some peeking out snakes back into it. That’s scary.

The bell rings and you look around, confused, Enid grabs the paper you stuck in your bag.

“Oh, hey! Your next class is with Wednesday and I, it’s just plant anatomy with Thornhill. Come on.”

-

Somehow Wednesday gets Xaiver to move away from her, so now you’re sitting next to her.

“What the hell is this class?”

“Thornhill just talks about plants. The only entertaining aspect of this is that I like seeing Bianca fail to beat me. Though that goes in almost everything.”

The auburn hair girl turns around, with a wide smile and fairly big glasses for the size of her head.

“It’s a pleasure to have a new student, I’m glad to have you in our third period class Y/N.”

You embarrassingly smile, everyone looking at you, some with smiles and some with just small glances. 

“Could you give us the formula on how to turn this plant into a…” Thornhill goes on and you look at the plant, it seems it’s a Ghost Orchid.

You answer almost immediately, and Wednesday nudges you with her foot to almost say a ‘yay.’

Bianca stares at you as Thronhill clasps her hands together, “Exactly, you know your plants well. I’m sure you’ll excel here. Today we’ll have a change of assignments. It’ll be a challenge for duos against other duos and whoever answers first, and correctly for that fact, will earn a point till all the questions run out. Sound easy enough? Alright, let me get my cards ready.”

A knowing smirk grows in between you two, “We’ll win in no time,” Wednesday states, you look at the duos. It’s you and her, Enid and Yoko, Bianca and Divina, and other people you have no clue about, including Xaiver.

The game starts and before Thornhill can even get to the end of the question, you and Wednesday slap the bell, giving out the answer.

“Quick hands,” Xavier mumbles.

“That’s correct! Great job girls.”

The game goes on, and you’re tied with Bianca’s team. The silence can be cut with a knife as the two duos anticipately wait for the question. As Thornhill begins to read out the question, it takes you two a while to know the answer. Bianca and Divina seem stuck.

It’s several moments before the learning in your past catches up to you, slamming the bell and saying out the answer.

“Correct once again! You two win, great job! You can grab a succulent or stick to two pieces of candy that’s probably expired at the end of class.”

You and Wednesday high-five and to say the least, everyone is surprised because the braided-hair girl never let’s anyone touch her.

-

Weeks have past, and you’ve never been happier. Giving ideas for Wednesday’s stories that even she never thought about, helping her crochet more Mr. Tuesdays, so much that she had thing steal a laundry basket from Weem’s office, and even braid her hair and put black ribbons. She’s grateful to have you at Nevermore, her stories have been expanding because of you.

Your always stuck to her side, fencing playfully with her, even willing to go out in the woods with her. But she hasn’t went out since your arrival, knowing that you wouldn’t want to leave her side, and she certainly doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Even you and her worked together designing a matching cat on your black and white pajamas.

It’s fun when you two get to talk about life when you two are in your dorms, even better when you two are on the balcony and watching the stars. Wednesday plays the cello while you sing. She loves that she has someone that she puts her closed-off personality aside for.

“I love it, you look so pretty with bows baby,” you say, tying the ribbon.

“You look pretty with bows or without cara mia.” 

“Shut ‘p,” you say, smacking her arm lightly as she wraps her arms around you and rubs your hair.

It’s not long till Weems announce that it’s time for lunch.

Wednesday gets up, signalling you to come with her, but when you don’t, she comes back to sit next to you.

“I’m just looking for my necklace, you can go ahead, it won’t take long, promise.”

She sighs, and nods for a moment, then points at Thing, “Help her.”

Thing waves his hands as she blows a soft air kiss and closes the door.

-

It’s sprinkling a little bit when Wednesday is outside.

“How does Wednesday act so non-hazardous with Y/N? It’s honestly impressive.”

“That’s not impressive, how the hell does she not smack her or give her glares? Do you not see the way her eyes actually look normal when she looks at her? Not even normal, they’re gentle! Plus she was the first to go run and get a bandaid when Y/N accidentally got a paper cut.”

It’s like they summoned the girl, who’s holding a plate of her lunch.

Enid smiles and Wednesday sits down, looking at everyone.

“Are you seriously speaking about me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We want to know why the hell you are actually sweet with Y/N.”

“You could’ve used any word besides sweet.”

“Baby-like?”

“Even worse.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Bianca adds, somehow now being in this conversation, “You killed the biggest spider that was crawling to her, for her.”

“She doesn’t like spiders. Who wouldn’t use not being afraid of spiders to protect someone who is?”

Bianca blinks, then wrinkles her nose, “If it was me you’d certainly let it bite me.”

“Well that’s different.”

Everyone at the table groans, “Exactly!”

“What did I tell you?”

“The only person you’d not let it bite is Y/N, we just want to know why.”

“I’m protecting her because she’s my girlfriend.”

Everyone turns their head to her, “What?”

Enid slams her fists to the table, “I fucking knew it. I knew it! Ajax, you owe me five dollars. I CALLED IT.”

“The Wednesday Addams actually has a girlfriend?”

“Why didn’t we catch on?”

“They’re kinda cute together- don’t even speak or she’ll actually cut your head off if you say cute.”

Everyone is arguing with each other, going crazy. But by the time they cool down and look at where Wednesday was sitting, her seat is empty.

Then everyone looks around and sees her draping her black jacket over your tiny figure, she pulls you closer to her chest as you hold onto her. (Let’s say she’s atleast 4 inches taller than 5’1 in this.) You tug her big jacket over your shoulders as you hug her. She holds onto you and guides you to the table, kissing your forehead and brushing your damp hair.

Even when she comes back, she bends down and takes the butterfly that’s resting on your hair and places it on your hand. “I heard somewhere that if a butterfly lands on you, it means that they see you as a beautiful flower.” 

“I never heard that before.”

“I know, I made that up.”

Everyone starts screaming again, making your girlfriend and your heads snap at them.

“Look at them!”

“Aw! So cute!”

“I want to say this is disgusting but they’ll be my roman empire soon enough.”

You turn back to her, seeing her eyes soften, almost happily, "You told them?”

“I didn’t know why they didn’t conclude to that in the beginning.”

Bianca groans, rolling her eyes as everyone is screaming, then Xavier chimes in. "Back to that spider scenario. I definitely think Wednesday would kill it for me."

You glare at him, clinging onto your girlfriend a little more like a koala. She rubs your back as you tighten your arms around her.

"Your sense of self-love is filled with stupidity. I'd kill the spiders that are harmless to you and leave the ones that are most venomous and ugly looking for people like you."

Xavier goes quiet, making a defeated grunt.

Everyone does their little, 'awws' again. You turn to her, now that everyone knows about your status.

“At least we can kiss in the hallways?”

“Maybe save that for the dorms.”

“Can we kiss right now?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows lift up, and she sighs, turning you away from the group and giving you a light kiss, as your lips press together, she nudges a small Mr. Tuesday now with inverted colors, a black bunny. They're both holding hearts and have a star over their head.

"Now Mr. Tuesday has a Mr. Wednesday," she says softly, tucking her black jacket tighter around you as you continue hugging her.

"And Miss. Y/L/N has a Miss. Addams."

[struniolos]

bags.

“cant you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

chris sturniolo x fem! reader.

synopsis: the one time chris convinces you to sleep in his room instead of nicks, and the truth comes tumbling out.

warnings: smut. minors do not interact.

the sound of chris’ mindless humming fills the air of his room, as you watch from his plush bed the way he thoroughly reads through your mid-term college paper. his hair falls over his eyes, and his legs sit apart. you could watch him like this for hours, how he just seems so calm and present- you try and capture these moments in your mind, like you could take a photograph with your eyes.

“honestly, i don’t think you should include the part about when your childhood dog died.” he speaks up, looking back at you.

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, it’s not like it’s a core event that impacted my life which is exactly what the paper is supposed to be about.”

he quirks the corner of his lips upwards. “it’s just so depressing, you know?”

“my life is depressing.” you counter with a laugh, watching as he rolls his eyes.

“you asked for my feedback, and that’s what i’ve got. cut the dead dog story.” he says, trying to be as serious as chris sturniolo can possibly be.

you couldn’t help but smile at him, watching as he pushed his feet against the ground to sway his desk chair back and forth. his pyjama pants were definitely a sight to see, blue plaid. a secret, shameful voice in your head fantasised about how soft they would feel up against your skin. you glance down at your watch, which pulses to remind you of your sleep schedule.

“fuck, it’s 12am. i should probably head home.” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

chris looks up as if he were a puppy. you imagined if he had dog ears they’d be perked up. “it’s too late! what if you get murdered or something on your way?”

“in my car?” you question.

he nods, wide eyed. “uh, yeah, what if someone, like, pretends to have been hit by a car then when you stop and get out boom! they stab you.”

“you sure it won’t be you? seems like you’ve had that planned for a while.” you chuckle, shaking your head. chris always had such strange theories and scenarios running around in his mind- if it was possible, you’d love to open it up and take a peak inside. a part of you wondered if you had a place in there somewhere.

he wafts you off with his hand. “you can sleep over, you know nick and matt won’t care.”

you hum in agreement, not particularly wanting to drive home at this late hour, not because of the potential murderers, but the fact that you were ready to collapse in a heap from how tired your brain was. “alright, i’ll go ask nick to pull out his spare mattress for me.”

“it’s so strange he has a spare bed for all his friends when they sleep over, like, just share a bed?” chris rambles, as he stands up and stretched his arms over his head, his stomach peaking out from under his white top. god.

“it’s not strange, it’s very thoughtful. he’s even got a spare cabinet of toiletries for when people stay over.” you point out.

“jesus christ.” chris groans, rolls his eyes.

“whatever.” you scoff, beginning to stand up off chris’ bed, dreading the thought of having to walk up two flights of stairs to get to nick’s room.

chris frowns at you, tilting his head. “you don’t have to go. why don’t you just sleep in here?”

“uh…” you try to muster up something, some dumb excuse for why you couldn’t. because i’m madly in love with you? because i won’t be able to control myself?

“so you’ll have a sleepover with nick but not me?” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “don’t make it weird. we’re just sharing a bed.”

“yes, exactly the point of why it will be weird.” you laugh.

“come on, it’ll be fun. we could watch a movie?” he suggests, a smile adorning his plump lips.

this flusters you, the thought of being so close, watching a movie together, alone, in his room. there was always someone with you, wether it be nick, matt, nate or madi. but not tonight- and that scared you.

“alright, i’ll stay for a bit but i’m not sleeping in here.” you tell him firmly, trying to lay down boundaries before you did anything stupid.

this seems to please chris enough, as he smiles and jumps onto the bed ridiculously, the weight of him bouncing the bed and making it squeak. a dark part of your mind thought about the other ways his bed would make those noises, but you shut it down immediately. once you sat down beside him, with your legs crossed, you scrolled through the netflix catalogue on his tv. you finally settle on she’s the man.

you can see chris in the corner of your eye scrunching his face up. “oh come on, really?”

“it’s a good movie!” you argue, hitting his arm playfully.

he scoffs at you. “so you’ve said about a million other movies that were all shit.”

“actually, could we not watch a movie? i’m really fucking tired.” you yawn, snuggling yourself into the duvet. you remain on top of it though, in a way of telling yourself to not get too comfortable. “i cant be bothered arguing about what to watch, anyway.”

“okay, well what did you want to do instead?” he asks, turning onto his side to face you, now. the only light in his room was that of the tv which illuminated his pale skin, his bright blue eyes glistening. it hurt just how gorgeous he was without even trying.

you shrug. “sleep?”

he nods, now rolling onto his back. you assume this means he is in agreement, but he doesn’t say anything. he just stares up at his ceiling fan, breathing slow. you watch him deep in thought, like his mind is really tinkering over something and gnawing at his insides.

“why don’t you want to sleep in here?” he suddenly says, turning his head slightly to face you.

you sigh. “because chris, it’s weird. we’re friends- we aren’t like, dating or anything. it’s not weird with nick, but with you…”

“with me what?”

your mind fogged with a cluster of everything. all of the stolen glances, the going places you knew chris would be there, always being at his beck and call because you were a ‘good friend’.

you sigh, deciding if you didn’t say anything now, you’d beat yourself up for it. “because...because i like you, chris, and i know you don’t feel the same. i know how you feel about relationships, they scare you. so it’s just easier if i set boundaries for myself and-“

“you like me?” he cuts you off mid sentence, now propping himself up on his side on his forearm.

your stomach sinks. there’s no turning back now. “yes.”

there’s a thick pause between you, and you prepare yourself for the worst. you squeeze your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands. why the fuck had you told him? you’ve ruined everything. now he will never want to hang out with you, and it’ll be awkward with nick and matt and-

“why have you never said anything?” he whispers, quieter than you’d ever heard him.

you swallow, biting your lips hard. “because i didn’t want to ruin not only our friendship but mine with nate, madi, matt, and oh god especially nick.”

chris nods slowly, like he’s really taking to what you’re saying, like he understands the weight of it and why you’d never said anything. why you’d always stayed quiet, and admired from afar. he touched his hair, mindlessly twirling a strand.

“nick never told you?” chris said softly, his eyebrows knitting into one. he looked sad, almost.

“told me what?” you whisper back, your heart now beating in your throat.

chris was never one with words, so when he leaned over and pressed his lips softly to yours, you understood this was his way of saying i like you too.

your cheeks were burning, as he cupped them in his hands. you both slowly began to roll over, with chris now hovering above you and his knee between your legs. you kissed him pathetically desperate, your body keening against his. you lips didn’t seperate once, as if you were breathing air into each other’s lungs and if you parted you’d suffocate. his hair tickles your forehead, his nose pushing into your cheek. you were waiting for yourself to wake up, that you had fallen asleep and this was only a sick part of your mind playing tricks on you. but it was real, he was real.

“fuck, i’ve wanted to do this for so long.” he whispers against you, as his hands roam down your body.

you gasp at the feeling. “you have?”

“mhm.” he murmurs, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “can i take this off?”

you nod, batting your lashes to look at him, and god, he was beautiful as ever.

“this isn’t going to ruin things between us, is it? because i’ll stop right now if it means you’ll never speak to me again.” he pleads, doe eyes looking at you wide and earnest.

“chris.” you whisper, your hand coming to hold his warm, pink cheek. “i would never not talk to you. i want this, i have wanted this.” more than you know you wanted to add, but couldn’t find the willpower.

“i want this too.”

you both assisted each other in swiftly discarding of your clothes, leaving you both only in your underwear. you felt so exposed, the fact he knew how to you felt and that your body was on display. he stroked your thigh as it came to curl around his back, his kisses travelling to your neck and collarbone. you moaned softly at the feeling, his warm lips lighting little fires within your skin. he bit at the plush flesh above your bra before removing it, his hands coming to hold and massage each mound.

you guided one of his hands down to your heat, begging with your eyes. “please.”

chris snaked his hand under your waistband, his slender fingers softly touching your folds. it was all so painfully soft, how he rubbed circles at your core while kissing you slow and deep. he shimmied your panties down, leaving them at your thigh. he dipped a finger into you, your velvet walls pulsating around him. your body begged for more, and chris listened. he was in tune with you, without having to say a word. he pushed in another finger, which elicited a deep moan from within your throat.

“that feel good?” chris murmured, his lips at your cheek.

“god, yes.” you whined, your body curling against his.

he pumped his fingers in and out of your wetness, as you clawed into his shoulders and shuddered against his bigger frame. you could feel him through his boxers, as he ground down against you. his pace increased as he felt you clench around his fingers, the sounds coming from you almost pornographic.

you moaned and cried for him, “chris! i’m almost- ah!”

your orgasm came strong like a thunderous tsunami, your legs stretching and your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your mouth hung open silently as no noise could possibly explain how euphoric you felt.

“mhm, that’s it.” he cooed, riding you through your high and praising you in your ear.

you would never be able to see him the same, never look at him platonically ever again. you knew this would ruin you. he kissed you deep, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“i want to feel you.” he moaned, grinding his constricted mound against your heat. “i want to be inside you.”

the weight of him on top of you combined with his honeyed words began to make you feel all hot and tingly again, as you pulled him incredibly close, your lips puffed and swollen.

“i want that too.” you manage, grinding up against him, the friction euphoric.

he pauses, looking down at you, his chain dangling in your face and hair flopping over his face. “are you sure?”

“mhm.” you hum, “need you.”

chris gives you one last firm kiss, before reaching down to pull his boxers to his thighs. your face flushed a deep maroon, watching as his leaking, pink tip pulsated. he rubbed himself gently, and you reached down to help him. he guided your hand up and down his length, and you felt yourself getting wetter. you shimmied your panties the rest of the way down, kicking them off your ankles. swiftly, he reached over to his bedside table drawer to grab a condom, ripping the packet with his teeth and gliding it down his shaft. you clenched your thighs with anticipation.

the brunette lined himself up with your weeping entrance, as you stroked his hair. you both watched as he slid into you, his tip disappearing into you. your jaw went slack, a pathetic moan tumbling from your plush lips. chris slumped over you once he had bottom out, his face in the crook of your neck.

“fuck, you feel so good.” he groaned, his hair tickling the nape of your neck. “can i move?”

“please.” you beg, as he lifts his head to lock eyes with you. you could no longer see the blue, they were merely bands around his blown pupils.

the first thing you felt was relief as he began to thrust in and out of you, his forearms leaning at each side of you as he held himself up. you knew it was quite vanilla, but thoroughly enjoyed being able to see his pink cheeks and open mouth as he moaned on top of you. his thrusts were passionate and deep, something you least expected from him. it felt ridiculously good, your body overcome with a warm fuzzy feeling deep from within you.

“faster.” you whimpered, holding his head with both hands, clawing into his soft dark hair.

he did as he was told. he picked your legs up, pushing them to your chest so you were folded in half. he began to snap his hips against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. he was impossibly deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. he grunted and groaned as he thrust, while you whimpered and clawed at his back. the noises coming from your bodies were ridiculously erotic, the wetness of your pussy and the moans escaping your throat.

“i want to hear you.” he growled, eyes dark and swirling with lust.

“ah, chris yes!” you cried, as he slammed deep within you, his hands holding the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

he quickly slipped out of you, and you almost cried at the feeling of being empty. he flipped you over so quickly you didn’t have time to register, your stomach flat against the bed and his chest flush against your back. he sunk back into you, and you pressed your head into the pillows, muffling your cries.

“oh my- fuck.” you moaned, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

his hands found purchase on the flesh of your hips, gripping it tight and using it as leverage for his relentless thrusts. his body slammed against yours, fucking you into the mattress. he reached around between you and the sheets, rubbing your sensitive bud.

“i’m close! shit!” you swore, biting your fist as he continued to slam into you, your ass bouncing against his pelvis.

“me too, ah!” he grunted, “i wanna see your face when i fill you up.”

you moaned at the thought, hoisting one leg up and twisting your core so that you turn around to look at him. he had a sheen of sweat coating his body and his lips between his teeth, while his hair fell in his face and his arms tensed as he held you down. the bed frame squeaked rapidly, thudding against the wall. there was no way nick and matt couldn’t hear you.

“fuck!” you cried, your orgasm washing over you in a thick wave. your vision was blurred, and your body froze.

the feeling of you clenching around him must’ve sent him over the edge, as chris’ hips stuttered with a cracked moan coming from his throat. he thrust into a few more times, spurting his hot liquid into you. your eyes were lidded, a dumb smile overcoming you as you watched him puff and pant. he collapsed beside you, but you made sure to face him so you could admire his post sex haze. you both lay in silence for a while, basking in each other.

“i cant believe we just did that.” chris mumbled, his finger tracing mindlessly over your face.

“me neither.” you breathe.

he thinks for a moment, pushing his hair out of his face to reveal his pink cheeks, freckles spattered over his nose. “you think matt and nick heard?”

“definitely. secrets out now.” you say, scrunching your nose.

chris laughs, reaching his arms to envelope you into him. he switched the tv off, now leaving you in the pitch black. as you lay there, caged within his arms, you couldn’t help but let somber thoughts cloud you. you wondered how things would change, what would you two become? was this a one time thing? did he really like you back or were you just another warm body?

“do you really like me too?” you whispered into the darkness, nuzzling your nose into his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“i always have. i just never know what to say in these situations. i get stuck.” he confesses, his hands running through your hair soothingly. “girls scare me.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “who knew, huh? chris sturniolo, ladies man…is scared of girls.”

he laughs with you now, squeezing you tight. “shut up.”

you find yourself lulled to sleep by his breathing and the feeling of him pressed against you. you’d never felt so comforted, like you belonged somewhere, more than what you did in that moment.

[luveline]

there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u

love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k

“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.” 

James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation. 

“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath. 

Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in. 

“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.” 

You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute. 

What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple. 

You’ve been acting super weird. 

“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.” 

Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.” 

“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.” 

A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his. 

Poor girl, he thinks. 

“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks. 

Your boss sighs. “What about it?” 

James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness. 

You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.

James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force. 

It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes. 

But what’s not to like about you now? 

Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake. 

He doesn’t think he can. 

“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.” 

You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you. 

Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still. 

He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt. 

James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.

The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes. 

“Sorry, James,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.” 

That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them. 

“Did I miss much?” you ask. 

Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.” 

“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?” 

“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says. 

“Is he fixing it?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”

[misstycloud]

Can you do yandere boyfriend and yandere in-laws

You and your husband were driving up north to visit your in-laws. They were a nice couple who’d decided to move to a small town after retirement. It made sense to you, after decades of work and stressing over all that life throws at you, who wouldn’t want a little seclusion?

For the entirety of you and your husband’s relationship, he’d talk about his parents and how glad he was to have what they have; he loves you so much. They were his role models in just about everything. It was a bit weird to you how inspired he seemed by his parents relationship, sometimes. He could go on and on about how he was lucky to have you and you two were going to be together forever- like his parents who’s been married for a little over 30 years. He’d also never fail to mention on how he would give you everything and tread you right- again, like his dad does his mom. However, you shook it off as him admiring them and being very close, especially since he’s an only child.

That was not all. From the moment you met them in person, you had a strange underlying feeling regarding them. You hardly believed they were criminals or something of that kind, but there was something. For example, you’d catch his mother watching you from time to time. It could be when you’re outside in the garden and you’d notice her watching from the kitchen window, quickly averting her gaze and busy herself with the dishes. Or when his father insisted to accompany you to the grocery store despite his now-bad leg. You had told him he should stay at the house and that you didn’t need help or anything, but he dismissed your rejections. Not to mention their willingness to help your with just about anything, and your mother-in-law did not spare any expense in the seemingly random gifts she bought you. Mind you, this was back when you and your husband hadn’t even been together that long and you’d barely gone over the official couple threshold.

“We’ll be there soon, honey. It’s not far now.” Your husband said to you, giving you a quick glance before fousing back on the road ahead of you.

You smiled and responded, “That’s good, I can’t wait to get out of this car.” You sighed and looked at the fields passing by outside the car window.

With a frown, he asked, “Are you feeling nauseous? Does your back hurt? Are you sore anywhere? Should I stop?” Immediately he began ranting about your comfortablility like he’s done all through your relationship.

“No!” You exclaimed. “There’s no need to stop, I’m fine. Just feeling a bit cramped up is all. It’ll be better when we’re there.” You explained while grabbing his hand and showing that you’re good.

He side-eyed you for a second, as if he was trying to find evidence you were lying. Then he breathed out in relief, “Okay, I don’t want you to be in any pain or be uncomfortable in any way-especially now.” Your worrying husband let go of you to move his hand over stomach and stroke it in gentle movements. All while still keeping an eye on the road, of course. It wasn’t long until his happy mood bounced back. “I’m so glad we managed to come out here, it’s feels like ages since last time. And I know how anxious my mom has been to see you again.” He chuckled at his mothers attachment to her daughter-in-law. He would almost say she loved you more than him with how she fawned over you. Though, he didn’t mind.

You simply smiled in return.

When you finally were at your in-laws house, your mother-in-law was instantly at your side, trying to help you he out of the car despite you being very capable of doing so yourself. Your father-in-law scolded her and told her to let you be, in which she shushed him.

It wasn’t long until she started pushing gifts in your direction. Although, they were much appreciated this time around considering your current state and needs. The couple treated you to a nice home cooked dinner and the conversation shifted between different topics. After devouring the delicious chocolate cake being served as dessert, you felt it was time for bed. You had already been quite tired during your journey but it the fatigue was really hitting you now. You yawned and told the others you were going to bed, asking your husband if he was going to go with you.

He shook his head. “No, you go to bed first, sweetie. I’ll be right up, soon.” He reassured and kissed you on the forehead as a sign of affection. Then he gently ushered you upstairs and after you were out of sight, went back to his parents seated in the living room.

“Straight to bed, then?” Mother-in-law asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” Your husband answered.

“Oh, I do hope the bed is comfortable enough for her. I bought a new madress since your last visit. Lovely girl, was to afraid to say it made her back hurt. It’s rare to find such polite young people nowadays, wouldn’t you agree, honey?” The elder woman turned to her spouse, who nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, mom.” Her son said and sat down in a cushioned chair.

“I hope.” she sighed, “She deserves a good nights rest. You’re lucky to have her, son, don’t forget that.” She half-jokingly reminded.

He chuckled and responded with, “Of course not. I love her more than anything. She completes me.” Thinking back to all the wonderful memories, he adorned an elated expression. “Besides, weren’t you the ones to teach me to never let go of what I love?”

“Haha, got me there. In all reality though, you did a good job taking her back. You know, I was a little worried for a moment there, thinking the wedding might be called off. I thought she perhaps found out about your…hobbies.” Mother-in-law raised a brow at her son, leaving the question open.

“No, it was something else. Fortunately.” He added. “But we fixed things and everything is as it should be.” his attention was turned towards his father, who for the first time spoke up.

“Well, relationships have been known to be a bit tricky for us” he referred to their family. “We are known for being somewhat intense with our feelings which may not always be appreciated. However, it is the truest form of love one can give and I’m so lucky to have found a partner who shares this view.” He placed his hand over mother-in-law’s who awed. “You said everything is steady, but you should still be careful. It would not be beneficial for either of you if a last resort has to be used.”

“Of course not.”

There are many stories of evil mother-in-law’s who despised their sons wife for the simplest of reasons. They would be cruel and treat the wife worse than dirt, all while playing innocent whenever someone had payed a little closer attention. She hated those women. How could one treat their child’s one-and-only that way? Though, she knew her view on love and relation did not match the majority of society so that might have something to do with it.

She absolutely adored you. You were simply perfect for her son. Kindness, humility, beauty- these were only a small range of your qualities. In a way, you were like the daughter she wished she had. Of course she wasn’t disheartened with her son’s birth, she would love her child no matter what, but she couldn’t lie and say the thought of a little girl wasn’t tempting. It would be so fun dressing up, doing each others hair, teaching her how to do makeup if she was interested.

She wanted to do those things with you someday. Sadly, she could sense you being a bit apprehensive to her company at times. She knew it was likely due to the excitement she radiated. She couldn’t help it, though! You are just so sweet it makes her want to bite into you like a piece of cake(don’t worry she wouldn’t actually). Mother-in-law has reminded herself to keep things down as to not overwhelm you, but it’s hard. If only she had the level of control her husband did.

Father-in-law is a admirable, hardworking man. He is clear-headed and calm; rarely does anything get to him. Although most would think him somewhat scary and stern, you actually like him a lot. He is not all toughness as he might want you to believe, in fact, he’s been very kind to you. That’s not to say that mother-in-law hasn’t been, but it’s just different with him, somehow. You felt like the two of you had a mutual understanding of kinds, and you also liked that he understood not to smother you.

He thinks you’re a wonderful addition to the family, even if he wouldn’t shout it out for the world to hear. He’d be too embarrassed. You are a good person and great match for his son. You’ll make him happy beyond measure, which is what father-in-law wants. Now that you’re permanently in the family, he often thinks of the things he and his wife taught their son. Now, he doesn’t hope you’ll ever have to find out about them since he’s not sure how you’d respond to that knowledge; most don’t respond positively and it’s likely the same for you. They could damage you forever.

Father-in-law promises to protect you since you’re part of his family now, and he’ll do anything for his family.

[henry7931]

Babe It’s Okay, I’m Bi

James:

This beautiful man right here is my girlfriend Chloe. It’s a very weird situation so let me explain, a couple weeks ago Chloe was in some strange science experiment accident that caused her to swap bodies with this guy named Derek.

And from what information we’ve collected this may be a permanent situation. As you can imagine she’s been pretty upset the last couple of weeks. And I’ve been trying to be the best to support her while she figures everything out.

It’s been a challenge for the both of us especially since we just moved in together a couple of months ago. We’ve been dating for a while but I think we’re at a point where I’ve been thinking about proposing which this just messed everything up. Well not completely I guess…

I have been holding on to a secret from her for years now and I don’t know how to say it. Not that I ever thought it really mattered until now.

The truth is really don’t care if she swaps back to her old body, I love her. Okay let just say it, I am sexually attracted to girls but I also like dudes. Specifically dudes like the body she’s in.

She or he is so freaking handsome! He’s tall, tan skin, has this really sexy stash, and I can’t get over his tattoos. So hot!

But I’ve been trying to walk a very careful line with him. And we still low key flirt all the time but I can see his hesitation.

Which makes me sad, I just wish I can tell him without hurting his feelings.

On the flip side, it would so help since every time he asks me something about being a guy I get extremely turned on. Like why are his balls itchy from time to time, why is it easier to pee standing up, and the boners!

I don’t know if he even notices but he’ll walk around with a hard on in our apartment and it’s everything in me not to reach out and dig into his briefs.

Which makes me wonder, when the hell does he jerk off? I know he’s been staying busy lately, I’m just curious how he makes the time.

He’s been hitting up the gym a lot and when comes home. He’ll kick off his smelly shoes, workout clothes, and walk around sweaty in nothing but his undies. Which I can’t help but stare.

And the hardest part is at night, we still sleep in the same bed.

It’s my favorite part because he will cuddle with me in his sleep. I don’t think he even notices that I let him. But every night I’ll something poking my back and then his arm will wrap around me. He’ll start humping me in his sleep from time to time.

But I need to get this off of my chest. This is probably going to be permanent and I desperately want my relationship back!

So tonight I’m going for it. I’m going to let him know that I’m into him.

That Night:

I get off of work around 6 and the second I walk through the door I hear a light moaning coming from another room.

I walk to the outside of the door and peak inside.

That’s when I see Chloe stroking it on our bed with his headphones in. I don’t think he can hear me.

I hear his voice, “James..” so softly…

Fuck, he’s jerking to pics of me.

“James… baby I want you so bad…”

I start unbuttoning my shirt and I kick off my shoes ready to jump in any second.

“Holy shit! James!”

All of the sudden Chloe grabs a pillow and covers his massive boner.

I grin at him and say, “You don’t need your cover yourself I was enjoying the show babe.”

“Oh shut up you’re just saying that!”

“No, I mean it,” I say walking over and unbuckling my pants.

“Babe, you don’t have to pretend for me. I know this isn’t ideal but—“

I immediately grab the pillow and pull it away. His dick is fully exposed and he has this shocked look on his face.

Before he can react, I grab his junk and say, “does this look like I’m pretending?”

“But… but… I’m a guy!”

I start fondling his junk just lightly tickling his balls.

“Yeah and I haven’t been honest with you,” I say leaning in to his face.

“Yeah?” he says to me softly.

“I don’t really care what body you’re in, I’m attracted to you. And sides, you wouldn’t be the first guy I’ve been with.”

“What the hell James!”

I start rubbing his cockhead and he lets out a yelp noise.

“Can we talk about this later? I’ve been waiting to do this with you for a minute now,” I say right before kissing his neck.

“Oh my! James that feels so damn good.”

I kiss down his neck until I get to his nipples.

I twist one of them which makes his eyes roll back into his head.

I kiss down his chest to his happy trail until I’m at his thighs.

“God you have the nicest dick,” I say to him.

He grins, “thanks I think I like it too.”

“Well I think you’re going to like it more after this.”

“Huh?”

I wrap my lips around his dick giving it a very sloppy kiss. I begin to take down my throat which causes him to moan even louder.

“Holy shit yeah I love having a dick!!” he lets out.

I stop for a sec to let out a giggle.

“You know this is going to change everything for our sex life right?”

“What do you mean?” He says confused.

“Well, I’m vers but we don’t know if you’re a top or bottom yet,” I say grinning.

His eyes get wide, “I mean I’m open to anything but will it hurt?”

“A little at first but we don’t have to try right now,” I say back.

I look over his fully naked lower half, it’s the first time I’ve gotten to see it this close.

I rub his thighs down to his feet. I look up at him and say, “hey can I do something?”

“Sure babe as long as you go back to sucking this,” he says holding out his hard cock.

I lift up his feet and bring them to my face. I take deep breath before inhaling them.

“Are you kidding me?!? You’re not just bi but have a foot fetish?”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far, you just have some sexy toes,” I say kissing them.

“Yeah they are nice I guess, even for a boy.”

I pull off my pants and boxers, we’re both naked now.

“Oh I’ve missed your dick babe!”

“Aw thanks!”

“Can I touch it?” he says reach out.

“I would love nothing more”

I feel his hands touching all over my junk. It feels so good. Thats when I got another idea.

“Hey since we both have dicks now? What if we 69?”

“I’m not opposed!”

Chlo gets on top of me and starts to lower his crotch towards my face. I can feel his lips touch my dick. That’s when I feel his mustache which makes he squirm at bit.

It takes us a second before we have a full rhythm down. I’m sucking and we start pacing faster before Chlo lifts his head.

“Oh my god! I’m about to cum!!”

And with very little warning, Chlo pushes his 10 inch dick down my throat and shoots so much cum out.

As he pulls out it’s dripping from my mouth. It takes a second to register but his cum tastes pretty good.

“That was amazing,” he says panting.

“Well I’m not done yet,” I say pointing at my eager boner.

“Well how a nice surprise for you.”

That’s when he does something I’d never expect. Chlo wipes a bunch of cum off my mouth and proceeds to rub it on the soles of his feet.

“Since you like them so much,” he says with a silly grin.

He takes both of his feet and wraps his toes around my dick.

He begins to move back and forth with them and it’s so hot that I can’t even take it.

His feet touch my dick for like 1 minute before I burst all over them.

I look at the cum covered toes and I can’t help myself from licking them clean.

I go grab us a couple of towels and walk back in to see my beautiful boyfriend laying in bed grinning.

“You wanna go somewhere for dinner?” I say to him.

“Nah let’s do take out, I’ll be ready for round 2 here soon,” he says patting at the bed for me to come back.

“Fuck, I love you!”

“I love you too, even if you forgot to mention the whole liking guys thing.”

“Well babe, what can I say? I’m bi.”

[pucksandpower]

Playing Cupid

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: convinced that you and Max must be the most oblivious people on earth, the rest of the grid decide to take matters into their own hands

“Hey, I bet I can beat you to the debrief room!” Max’s voice carries through the paddock, his familiar smile in place.

You roll your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. “You always say that and yet here we are.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face, “Optimism, it’s just part of my charm.”

“You mean your delusion?” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

There’s a pause as you both make your way, the chatter of crew members a steady background hum as Max’s laughter and your shared jokes create a bubble around the two of you.

“You two are like the dynamic duo of Red Bull,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall with his signature grin stretching across his face. “Batman and Robin vibes.”

You glance at Max, raising an eyebrow. “Batman and Robin? More like Tom and Jerry.”

Max snorts. “Which one am I?”

“Definitely Tom. Always chasing but never quite catching up.” You stick out your tongue playfully.

Daniel shakes his head with a laugh, “The chemistry though! It’s electric. The entire grid sees it.”

You look puzzled, glancing at Max whose face mirrors your own. “What are you on about, Danny?”

Before he can reply, Max’s race engineer joins in, “He’s not wrong. It’s like watching two magnets circle each other, not knowing they’re meant to connect.”

Max shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed at GP’s observation, “We’re just good friends. Teammates. That’s all.”

You nod in agreement. “Exactly! Just because we joke around doesn’t mean—”

“—there’s anything more,” Max finishes for you, the two of you so in sync it makes GP and Daniel exchange amused glances.

“Whatever you say,” GP chuckles.

The day wears on, filled with the usual press conferences, race strategies, and banter. But now, there’s an underlying hum, a question that seems to have spread among the drivers and teams: what if?

In the evening, as you’re about to make your way back to the hotel, Lewis sidles up to you. “You and Max, huh? That’s something. The fans will love it.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re just teammates. That’s all.”

He winks. “For now.”

You just laugh it off, not sure how to respond.

Later that night, you and Max find yourselves in a private corner of your hotel restaurant, both tired but satisfied. “Did Lewis say something weird to you too?” Max asks, sipping his drink.

You nod. “About us. I mean, we’re close, but all this talk ... it’s a bit strange, right?”

He sighs, “Yeah. Just because two people get along doesn’t mean they’re ... you know, together together.”

You chuckle. “Exactly. We’re friends. Best friends. That’s all.”

***

“Truth or dare!” The booming voice with an enthusiastic Australian accent echoes across the lounge where a few of the drivers have gathered post-qualifying, hoping to unwind.

Max groans from beside you. “Do we have to? Every time it ends up embarrassing at least one of us.”

You nudge him, laughing. “Oh, come on. Scared of a little dare, Verstappen?”

Daniel’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Exactly. What are you so afraid of, Maxie? Maybe revealing a certain ... secret?”

Lando, lounging on a sofa, chips in, “Or maybe singing a serenade for a certain someone?”

Max’s cheeks turn a shade redder while you feel your own face heat up. “I think Danny and Lando are in cahoots,” you whisper to Max, who chuckles in agreement.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes, “Truth or dare. Bring it on.”

Daniel’s smile widens even further, a clear sign that he’s up to no good. “Okay, Max. Truth or dare?”

Max hesitates for a split second. “Dare.”

Daniel rubs his hands together with a surprisingly convincing evil smirk. “I dare you to serenade ...” He deliberately drags out the suspense, glancing around the room before pointing directly at you, “... your lovely teammate here.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. “Oh, this is going to be good!”

Max looks at you apologetically but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, alright. What song?”

You shake your head, already giggling in anticipation of what is to come. “Surprise me.”

Gathering courage, Max stands up, clearing his throat dramatically. He looks right into your eyes, a playful glint in his, and starts singing “I Want It That Way” … mostly.

“Tell me why … I keep crashing into walls. Tell me why … I can’t seem to win them all. Tell me why … I never want to hear you say, box box box box box.”

You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face. The room is filled with laughter, claps, and a few playful boos (mostly from Charles who seem partially traumatized by the mention of boxing).

“That’s officially the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your words.

Max takes a bow, still red-faced. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

As the night winds down and the group starts to disperse, Daniel sidles up to you. “Soooooo …. did the serenade work?”

You laugh, “It was entertaining, to say the least. But Max and I ...” You trail off, not sure how to put your relationship into words.

“It’s alright,” Daniel nods understandingly and for a moment you actually think he might stop scheming to get the two of you together. But then he winks, “Sometimes the best things take time.”

***

“Formula 1 is as much about connections off the track as it is on,” Lewis begins, his voice smooth, measured, a practiced art in front of the cameras during the press conference. Flashbulbs click and reporters scribble notes. “Sometimes those connections are ... more than what meets the eye. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You raise an eyebrow. Next to you, Max shuffles slightly awkwardly.

Before you can answer, Lewis continues, eyes glinting with mischief, “For instance, teams with two drivers who might be ... more than just teammates?” His gaze flits subtly between you and Max, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

Max laughs it off. “Talking about you and George? Or was it back with Nico?”

A ripple of laughter flows through the conference room and you bite back a smile, appreciating Max’s deflection.

Lewis grins, completely unfazed. “Good one. But no, I’ve heard some rumors about another team ... one that rhymes with Bed Rull, perhaps?”

Now you feel the need to intervene, “Rumors are just that, Lewis. Rumors. Max and I are teammates, good friends. Nothing more.” You keep your voice light but firm.

“But isn’t it interesting,” Lewis ponders aloud, “how two people can spend so much time together, share so many experiences, practically think with the same brain, and still not notice a ... deeper connection?”

Max’s eyes meet yours briefly, a momentary search for an answer, a reaction perhaps. But as quick as the look is, it’s gone.

After finishing up with media, Charles shoots a dimpled smile your way. “Quite the interview by Lewis, huh? He’s not usually one for gossip.”

You laugh. “Trying to stir the pot, I guess. Maybe he’s bored? Everyone loves a good love story.”

Charles nods, his gaze a bit more serious. “But sometimes … sometimes rumors are built on a foundation of truth. Even if you don’t see it.”

You mull over his words but before you can respond, Max joins the conversation. “Is everyone becoming a relationship expert these days or something?”

Charles just shrugs with an impish grin. “Maybe we all just want to see our friends happy.”

The comment gives you pause. Is that all this is? Friendly teasing? Or is there something more you’re missing? Something right in front of you that you’re not seeing?

But for now, as you and Max head back towards the Red Bull motorhome, you push those thoughts aside, determined to focus on the upcoming race and the challenge it presents.

***

“Fancy seeing you here!” Your team principal greets you, his tone feigning surprise as you walk into the upscale restaurant.

Max squints at him suspiciously. “You invited us both here, Christian.”

“Yes, a lovely team dinner. Just the three of us,” Christian confirms with an overly innocent smile as he guides you both to a table by the window.

The setting is intimate, with soft lighting and plush seating. A live harpist is serenading diners. It’s definitely not your typical “team dinner.”

“Christian,” you muse aloud, “this place looks a tad extravagant for a casual dinner, does it not?”

He shrugs, a smile still in place. “Consider it a treat for the team’s recent successes.”

Before you can continue your line of questioning, a waiter approaches to take your orders. You and Max share a conspiratorial glance.

“I’ll have the lobster bisque to start. With extra lobster,” Max begins, deciding to indulge.

“I’ll take the osetra caviar. You can bring the entire tin. With extra blini,” you add, grinning as you see Christian’s eyes widen.

Christian clears his throat. “Well, I actually just remembered an urgent call I have to take. Enjoy the meal, you two.” And with that, he hurries away, leaving you both chuckling.

Max leans in with a whisper, “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Absolutely. Let’s make him pay ... literally. He did say it’s on him.”

Safe to say that you both enjoy the finest dishes the restaurant has to offer. “At this rate,” you joke as the waiter opens your second bottle of ridiculously expensive wine, “Red Bull is going to break the budget cap because of catering. Again.”

Throughout the meal, you and Max discuss the recent upgrades to your cars, dissecting each detail with genuine interest and passion. The conversation flows easily but is entirely centered on racing.

Unbeknownst to you both, scattered around the restaurant are various team members and drivers in disguises, watching your every move. From Daniel donning a fake mustache as he pretends to be a waiter to Yuki wearing a chef’s hat peeking out of the kitchen, they’re all there and all invested in the outcome of the evening.

From his spot behind the bar, Lando, sporting a terrible wig, groans. “They’re just talking about tire degradation! This is so frustrating.”

Charles, disguised as a saxophonist with a carefully trimmed goatee, chimes in, “I thought this would be it. This setting is perfect.”

Back at your table, you raise your glass. “To another successful season and having amazing teammates.”

Max clinks his glass against yours, laughing. “Cheers to that!”

As you leave, completely oblivious to your undercover audience, the collective sigh of exasperation from the team members is almost audible even over the live music.

***

“What’s this?” You lift the elegantly wrapped package from your locker, examining the tag which reads: From Fernando - Enjoy the relaxation.

Max, peering over your shoulder, also pulls out a similar package from his locker. “Looks like we both got gifts.”

Ripping open the delicate paper, you pull out a luxurious pamphlet. The cover boasts a serene image of a spa, complete with candle-lit rooms and peaceful landscapes. Max’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s got the same one.

“A couples spa retreat?” Max reads aloud, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Really?”

Fernando, passing by at that exact moment, grins cheekily. “Thought you two could use some relaxation and a day off the track.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” you reply, peering up at him skeptically, “But why a couples retreat?”

Fernando shrugs, the picture of innocence. “It had the best reviews. Just trying to be a good friend.”

Max laughs, rolling his eyes. “Well, thanks for the ... thoughtful gift. Might as well use it.”

And so, you find yourself at the spa, wrapped in plush robes as the gentle hum of soft music and flowing water fills the air.

Max, his feet soaking in a warm tub and a clay mask setting on his face, looks over at you. “You think this was another one of their schemes to get us together?”

You laugh, dipping your toes into the fragrant water. “At this point, nothing would surprise me.”

The day goes on with various treatments — massages, scrubs, and mud baths. But instead of talking about personal lives or diving deep into emotions, you both end up discussing the possible benefits of the treatments.

“You know,” Max muses as he receives a deep tissue massage, “this technique might help with muscle fatigue after long races.”

You, getting a foot massage, nod in agreement. “Absolutely. And the mud bath we took earlier? Might help with detoxifying after particularly sweaty race weekends.”

The spa therapists, used to couples sharing intimate moments, are clearly bemused by your discussions.

Later, as you both relax in the sauna, Fernando sneaks a peek through a small window, hoping to catch a romantic moment. But to his chagrin, he finds you both animatedly discussing the aerodynamics of your cars.

“Did you notice the slight drag on the left during the last turn?” You ask, wiping away sweat.

Max nods. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. We need to discuss that with the team.”

Fernando sighs, leaning against the wall outside the sauna. “They’re hopeless,” he mutters to himself.

He approaches you both later, looking slightly defeated. “So, the spa day? Did it perhaps help ... bring you two closer?”

You smile, patting him on the shoulder. “It was amazing for our driving techniques. Thanks, Fernando.”

Max nods in agreement, “Best spa day ever. We’re thinking of making it a regular thing.”

Fernando groans, realizing that his plan, like all the others, has somehow backfired. “I give up. You two are impossible.”

***

“Beach volleyball? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, looking at the makeshift court that Lando and George have set up on the sand.

George grins, passing a volleyball between his hands. “Thought it’d be a fun way to unwind. And we’ve set the teams so it’s fair and ... interesting.”

Lando winks. “You and Y/N are paired up, of course. We thought you two could use some quality time together.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk that forms on your lips. “Let me guess, another one of your schemes to play matchmaker?”

Lando feigns shock. “Us? We would never.”

You laugh, pulling Max towards your side of the makeshift court. “Alright then, let’s do this. Prepare to be schooled, boys.”

What was meant to be a friendly match quickly turns intense. Max and you make a formidable team. The chemistry on the track seamlessly transitions to the sand, both of you equally competitive and always anticipating the other’s next moves.

“I didn’t know you two were this good!” George pants, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You wink at him, taking your position. “There’s a lot you don’t know about us.”

Neither you nor Max are willing to give an inch. Diving saves, powerful spikes, and clever feints — you both are in it to win it.

Lando, gasping and covered in sand, mutters to George, “This was supposed to be fun. Not an Olympic match.”

The final point arrives, with you and Max at an advantage. Lando, attempting a weak serve, sends the ball perfectly to you. With a powerful run-up, you spike the ball back directly towards him. It’s fast, precise, and ... it ends up hitting Lando square in his balls.

He collapses on the hot sand, groaning. The surrounding crowd winces empathetically but you and Max? You both burst into uncontrollable laughter, falling to your knees for an entirely different reason.

“Lando!” George rushes to his side, a mix of concern and amusement on his face.

Still on the ground, Lando whines, “There go my chances of ever having kids.”

Max, between fits of laughter, manages to say, “Sorry, mate. But that was ... epic.”

You nod in agreement, offering Lando a hand. “Next time, be prepared if you’re going to challenge us. We don’t do things by halves.”

Lando takes your hand to pull himself up. “Noted. No more volleyball with you two.”

***

“Whoa,” Max blinks, staring at his phone screen. “Did you just text me?”

You frown, looking up from your own phone. “No, why?”

He shows you the screen where a message pops up, supposedly from you:

I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think I have feelings for you

Your eyes widen in shock. “I definitely didn’t send that. Wait …” You check your phone, finding a similar message supposedly from Max:

Ever since we became teammates, I’ve felt something more

Do you feel the same?

Confused, you show Max the message. The two of you exchange bewildered glances. “What is happening?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

You shake your head. “Someone must think it’s funny to play a game with us.”

From a distance, behind the pit wall, Pierre Gasly is trying hard to suppress his laughter, watching the two of you. He nudges Charles who is next to him. “Do you think they bought it?”

Charles grins, “Knowing those two, they will probably figure it out. But it was worth the shot.”

Back at your spot, Max raises an eyebrow, “Did you by any chance get a new number recently?”

You nod. “Yeah, last week. Remember I gave it to you when we flew in? But only the team and our friends have it. Who would pull such a prank?”

Max smirks, “I have a few suspects in mind.”

You both decide to play along, typing away furiously. Max’s smirk grows wider with every passing second. “Let’s see how much our prankster likes the cards being reversed.”

Minutes later, Pierre’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from Max:

I’m so relieved you feel the same

How about dinner tonight?

Somewhere private?

Pierre’s eyes widen in surprise. He quickly checks your supposed response:

Of course I do!

Can’t believe we waited this long to admit our feelings

See you tonight? Let’s meet in the lobby for drinks and maybe dessert if you’re lucky ❤️

Pierre gulps, shooting a panicked look at Charles. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Charles snickers. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Later in the day, Pierre approaches with guilt basically stamped across his forehead. “Look, about the texts you got …”

You grin. “Figured it out, did you?”

Max chuckles, clapping Pierre on the back. “Nice try but despite what you may think, we’re not complete idiots. ”

Pierre sighs in relief. “Honestly, I thought I might have ignited something real for a moment there.”

You laugh, “I would hope any grand confession of love I receive happens through something other than sneaky texts.”

Pierre nods, smiling sheepishly. “Fair enough. But hey, if you ever do decide to go for a romantic dinner, let me know. It’s on me.”

Max grins, “Deal.”

***

The paddock is transformed. A massive screen is set up, loungers and bean bags are spread around, and fairy lights dangle from above as a large screen and projector take center stage.

“Rom-coms?” Max squints at the list Charles is holding, a collection of the cheesiest, most cliche romantic movies available.

Charles grins, unashamed. “Best way to set the mood, right?”

You laugh, “Still trying to make Lestappen happen?”

Charles blushes. “That was one time! Besides, I have moved on to more ... realistic goals.”

Lando pops up from behind a popcorn stand, “Like getting you two to finally see what’s right in front of you.”

You roll your eyes, playfully pelting a handful of popcorn at his head. “Enough with the matchmaking.”

The movie starts and it’s clear that every spot has been strategically taken, leaving just one chair available. Daniel points to your teammate with a deceivingly innocent expression, “Why don’t you sit on Max’s lap? Save space.”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Or you could give up your seat and come sit on my lap yourself.”

The surrounding drivers erupt in laughter as Daniel smiles widely, conceding the point. You both end up squeezing into the chair somehow.

As the movie plays, instead of getting swept up in the romance, you both start dissecting it.

“Why would she run in the rain after him? That’s just asking for pneumonia,” Max comments as the heroine dashes through a downpour.

You nod in agreement, “And those heels? Totally impractical. She should have changed into boots.”

Charles groans, burying his face in his hands. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

George pats his hair sympathetically, “You tried. That’s what matters.”

As the movie reaches its climax with a grand chase through the airport, you muse, “You know, airports have strict security. How did he even get to the gate without a boarding pass?”

Max nods, “And the plane? Totally off. They used the wrong model. That one can’t fly long-haul.”

Charles jumps up in exasperation. “That’s it! No more movies. You two are ridiculous.”

You grin, throwing an arm around Max. “Oh, come on. Admit it … you love us.”

Max chuckles, “Thanks for the movie night. Learned a lot about airport logistics and practical footwear.”

Charles sighs but a smile tugs at his lips. “We’re really not being paid enough for this.”

***

“Team-building exercise?” Max echoes. Both of you are seated in Christian’s office, a mysterious smile playing on the team principal’s lips.

Christian nods, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Dr. Amelia Foster, a top relationship expert.”

You exchange a hesitant glance with Max. “Relationship expert? But we’re not a couple.”

Dr. Foster chuckles, adjusting her glasses. “I’m not here for romantic purposes. I help partners of all kinds communicate better. Even teammates.”

Max leans forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

Christian clears his throat. “A simple session. See if there’s any room for improvement in your communication. I mean, you two are already a great team. Imagine if you were even better?”

Dr. Foster nods, opening her notebook. “Let’s start with a basic exercise. Max, describe how you feel when Y/N makes a risky move.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Concerned, I guess. I trust her skills but I also worry about her safety.”

You smile, touched. “And I feel proud when Max nails a difficult maneuver. He has an instinct during races that is unmatched.”

The session continues, delving into how you view each other’s strengths, weaknesses, and driving styles. As the conversation flows, Dr. Foster introduces various communication techniques.

“Now, let’s practice active listening,” she suggests. “Y/N, tell Max something, and Max, you’ll repeat it back in your own words.”

You nod. “Alright. Sometimes, when we’re racing side by side, I wish you would give me a tiny bit more space.”

Max considers then responds, “You’d like me to be a bit more cautious and ensure you have enough room during close races.”

Dr. Foster claps her hands. “Excellent! See? It’s about mutually understanding and validating each other’s perspectives.”

By the end of the session, both of you are genuinely engrossed in the exercises, seeing the potential benefits for your on-track dynamic.

As you both leave, Max turns to you, excitement in his eyes. “That technique where we visualize the other’s perspective? That could be a game-changer during races!”

You nod in agreement. “Absolutely! And the active listening can help during debriefs. Ensure we’re always on the same page.”

Christian, waiting outside, is initially hopeful upon seeing your animated discussion. “So, did the two of you ... connect?”

Max grins, “Oh, we did! I think our communication on the track is going to be better than ever.”

Christian sighs, realizing his matchmaking attempt has gone astray once again. “Not quite what I had in mind but I’ll take it for now.”

***

“I swear, rain at a race weekend is the universe’s way of telling us to slow down,” you quip, leaning back in your chair as the rain pours outside.

Max chuckles from his seat next to you. “Or it’s just weather. But I prefer your explanation.”

The sound of the rain has already lulled a group of mechanics to sleep. There’s an unexpected calm with the usual bustle of the race on hold.

You pull out your phone, browsing your music. “Let’s trade favorite songs. Bet I can surprise you with my taste.”

Max opens his own music app. “Challenge accepted.”

You play an indie track that has become your recent favorite. Max listens thoughtfully, “Never pegged you for an indie fan.”

You shrug, “Life’s full of surprises. Your turn.”

He selects a familiar classic rock track that makes you grin. “Bohemian Rhapsody? Really?”

He smirks, “Told you, surprises.”

“I’m mostly just surprised it’s not 33 Max Verstappen,” you tease.

As the afternoon stretches on, the music transitions to shared stories. You talk about your childhood, the early days of karting, the struggles, and triumphs. He shares his own tales, moments that shaped him, the highs and lows of his journey.

“Remember our first race as teammates?” He asks, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, “How could I forget? You almost ran me off the track.”

He chuckles, “Defensive driving. But you held your ground. Earned my respect that day.”

“And you earned mine,” you reminisce. “Not just as a driver but as a person.”

The atmosphere shifts, the mood turning contemplative. The stories become more personal, more intimate. You share your fears, dreams, and hopes. The raw honesty of the moment creates a bridge, a connection neither of you realized was missing.

Max looks at you, his gaze intense. “You know, despite all the teasing from the others, the setups, and the jokes, I never stopped to really see ... us.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’ve been so focused on the track, on our partnership as teammates, that I never paused to consider the possibility of ... something more.”

He reaches out to gently take your hand, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. “Maybe it’s time we did.”

You look into his eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back, and smile. “Maybe it is.”

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you both step onto the podium. The last race had been intense, with both of you claiming the top spots. Max, in first, and you, a close second. The excitement is contagious, the air electric.

Max turns to you, the gleam of victory in his eyes mirrored by another emotion that has been growing since that rainy day. Without another word, he pulls you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like a victory all on its own.

The crowd goes wild, cheering and whistling. But what draws your attention as you pull away, breathless, is the reaction of the grid below.

Lando jumps up, punching the air. “Yes!”

Charles grins, clapping his hands together. “Told you it’d happen on the podium!”

Daniel, laughing, shouts, “Pay up, everyone! I had this race in the betting pool.”

Confused, you turn to Max, who shrugs, just as out of the loop.

Later, as the celebrations continue, Pierre pulls you both aside, showing a clip on his phone. It’s a video from a few months ago, all the drivers and Christian huddled together, placing bets on a whiteboard labeled When Will Max and Y/N Finally Stop Being Blind?

You laugh, watching the clip. “Of course you all managed to turn our love life into a game.”

Max wraps an arm around you. “Well, they do say racing is all about strategy and timing.”

Lando approaches with a pout. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer? I was two races off.”

Daniel, counting his winnings, smirks. “Better luck next time.”

Christian shakes his head with a laugh but pulls both of you in for a hug. “Never thought I’d be so happy to lose 50 quid. Congrats, you two.”

Surrounded by the people who spent most of the season trying to make this happen, you realize that love, like racing, has its own unpredictable course. Because sometimes, the best races aren’t on the track. They’re the ones that lead to unexpected, beautiful destinations.

[yuutito]

true love comes from more than just the heart

yuuta x female reader, length: 1.5K CWs: yandere // reader has loose hair that can be tucked behind the ear // bruises A/N: This is a repost, lightly edited. banner by @/cafekitsune

Part of Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing series

Things with your project partner, Yuuta, have been awkward as of late. It’s been exactly three days, 5 hours, and 40 minutes since the moment he asked you if you wanted to go on a date and you’d let him down as easy as you could. You’d fed him some excuse about not wanting to date right now, not when you’re busy with classes and finals are approaching. But since then, he’s been missing from every group function, and every time your eyes meet in lecture hall it’s like looking at a kicked puppy. It’s eating at you from the inside out, and after said 3 days 5 hours and 40 minutes you can’t take the awkwardness anymore.

“Okkotsu-kun,” you sit down beside him in one of the libraries on campus. You weren’t sure if you’d find him here but somehow, every time you purposefully seek him out, he’s always within reach. “Can we talk?”

He has a laptop and a notebook open on the wooden table, which he promptly shuts as soon as you take a seat next to him. He tucks his arms under the table and looks at you with those very same soggy tired eyes of his. You wonder if he even sleeps at all.

“Sure. What do you need?” He tacks your name and the appropriate honorific on at the end, his voice dulcet and polite.

“I just… feel bad about what happened. We still have to work together on our project and besides that, I like talking to you… but it feels weird suddenly. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well you didn’t show up for recitation or group study yesterday… bailed on our project meeting the day before that…” you’re wringing your hands on your lap, and Yuuta’s staring at them instead of looking at you. “Are you listening to me?”

“I just needed some time to myself,” he tries to offer you a soft smile but it comes out more like a wince. 

“Aren’t we friends? We don’t have to cut ties just because of—”

“I dont want to cut ties at all.” His voice comes out a little harsher, colder than he’d wanted. In a lower, gentler voice he adds, “it’s because we’re just friends that I just… needed some time.”

“Yuuta-kun.” He looks back up at you directly, forced to by the fact that you’d used his first name and reached out for his hand. He feels his heart in his throat. “It’s not you, it’s just…”

How do you explain this to him, really? Because it is partially him—your best friend and roommate Nobara had drilled into your head that he’s bad news from day one. But in reality, to you, he’s something of a yellow flag, maybe even a pale green. Not red, not yet. Because there’s nothing really wrong with him at all. He’s just a little intense at times, when he’s not being nauseatingly polite and oozing with kindness and consideration. You don’t entirely see whatever darkness it is that Nobara sees in him.

When he perks up in his seat you imagine a dog with ears pointed up, turned at you. Cute.

“I guess I have really bad luck with guys and it’s been a bit nerve-wracking going about dating. I don’t think I’m ready for that again, not with you.”

“What do you mean bad luck?” He blinks, confused.

“Ever since university started, things have just been so strange…” you subconsciously try to pull your hands away, but Yuuta holds them close to his own. You feel a reassuring squeeze. “I’d get close to someone, they’d seem interested… maybe even flirt or meet for a date… but not long after that they’d just vanish and ghost me. Even as recently as a couple weeks ago, I’d been talking to a guy in civics who then stopped coming to class altogether… It’s happened enough times that I’ve just sworn off dating, you know? I guess it’s for the best—maybe the universe just wants me to focus on school, not on relationships with other people. It’s distracting, anyway.”

As you ramble, Yuuta’s thumb glides over your fingers, lulling you into a sense of comfort. It’s nice to talk about this with someone so patient, someone who isn’t as blunt as your roommate; she had blamed you for every person who would disappear soon after coming close to your orbit. You love her to death but coming to her with a hurt ego only makes the wound sting.

“It’s not you at all!” When he feels eyes on him, the other patrons of the library glaring at him for his outburst, he quiets his voice yet again. “You’re perfect. Anyone who doesn’t see that is wrong and doesn’t deserve you at all.” 

You smile at the sureness and totality in his voice. He’s entirely convinced you could do no wrong, and it feels kind of nice to have someone in your corner for once.

You take one hand out of his grip to push back a lock of your hair and in the process manage to look down at your intertwined hands. To your surprise, his hands are bandaged at the knuckles. How had you not noticed that? And peeking from the corners of said bandages are bruises, faded hues of blue and purple. They aren’t fresh, but they look gnarly, the skin taut over his knuckles just about to burst at the seams.

“What happened to you, Okkotsu-kun?” You twist and turn his hands in yours, and he finds that he likes the attention from you—likes it so much he doesn’t dare pull away. His hands go limp in your palms, soaking up their warmth. “Did you have these the last time we spoke?”

“Um… I’ve been working out with a friend these last few weeks. Boxing.” 

You laugh, a sigh of relief visibly making your tense shoulders sag. It’s with this that Yuuta realizes that you’re not the type to pry. You trust him.

“What made you take that up?” You release his hands, to his internal dismay. “Looks painful.”

He shrugs and tucks his hands back under the table, away from your line of vision. “Hmm… I don’t know. Just something to do, I guess.” 

“I never took you as the type to do anything like that.”

He tilts his head. You watch one of the small hoops in his earlobe sway with the movement.

“Really? Why?”

“You’re just always so nice. You give off such a sweet vibe. Like you help grannies cross the street in your spare time, or some shit like that.”

You both share a chuckle, the first time you’d both smiled at each other since before he’d tried to ask you on a date. You find yourself stuck on the curve of his lips, pink and slightly chapped. 

Why did you reject him again…?

The strand of hair that you’d tucked behind your ear falls forward again, and this time Yuuta is the one to tuck it back for you. It feels so natural for him to do it, that you stay still and let him.

“The Yuuta in your mind is such a gentleman, isn’t he?”

You giggle at his choice of words. Why’s he talking about himself like that? The look in his eyes is a little strange, but in your heart, you agree. He’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise.

“Yeah… he definitely is.”

“I’m glad.” He holds the end of the lock of your hair between his fingertips, curling your hair around his pointer finger. He inhales deeply—you smell like strawberries at this distance. It’s lovely.  

He sighs. His breath sounds so heavy, diffusing the tension between you. “I’m sorry I made things awkward. I hope we can still be friends…”

Your smile is bright. Incorruptible. It’s so fucking pretty—always is.

He lets your hair fall out of his grasp.

“Of course, it’s why I came here. I want to be friends… As long as you want to be.”

He wants to say forever. He wants to tell you he never wants to be apart and never wants to see that smile fade. He even wants to tell you about all the fantasies he has in his head where you’re married and tucked away in a forest somewhere, to be each other’s gravity, the entirety of each other’s universes. But he swallows the words instead—that’s just a little too much for you, right now. Even he knows this. Yet somewhere in his mind, he’s certain he’ll be able to say everything he wants to say to you wholeheartedly soon. 

He just has to be a little more patient…

“I do.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: Heloooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As promised, you’re shown to your new office by the end of the day. You put your meagre box of belongings on the desk and unpack a piece at a time. Isn’t an exhaustive task so you take your time. 

You put your watermelon post-its by the base of the monitor’s pedestal and your cell phone screen lights up. It’s been buried in your bag for much of the day but you took it out to reconnect to your work accounts. Melanie’s name fills the top of the screen. You still haven’t responded to her since the weekend. 

You swipe up your phone and cross the office. You answer as you shut the door, eking out a tiny hello as you turn back and bite your thumb. You pace aimlessly as your stomach knots. You don‘t think you’re mad at her, just embarrassed about how it all turned out. She knows how many times your excitement was burnt to disappointment, you hoped she wouldn’t have added to your pile ashes. 

“Hey, girl, you busy? I’ve been calling you all week.” 

It’s Tuesday, you think to yourself. 

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on at work--” 

“That’s great,” she interrupts, “did you see my texts? I really am sorry about the other night. You know, I was stressed. Clark was out of town for his job and I hadn’t seen him all week. Really, I didn’t forget about you, I just thought we were meeting Saturday, not Friday.” 

Your mouth slants as you weigh her excuse. You don’t know if you believe her but it could be true. How long have you been friends? Doesn’t she deserve the benefit of the doubt?

“Everyone gets busy,” you say with a brittle laugh, “I totally get it. Next time I’ll be clearer, that’s all. Make sure there’s no misunderstanding.” 

“Of course,” her voice is trills and is overly affected, “I just wanted to check in since Clark said you were so upset.” 

“He did?” You frown as you stop by the desk and take your stapler out of the box. 

“Uh, yeah, he did. So, in the future, if your upset, you can just let me know, hon,” her tone drips like syrup, “we’re friends, aren’t we? I mean, it’s a big city and we gotta stick together.” 

“Erm, sure, I’m sorry, I didn’t think... I wasn’t upset. I didn’t say anything, you know, I was just tired.” 

“Whatever, hon, it’s behind us now, isn’t it? You forgive me?” She pauses, waiting. 

“Y-yeah?” You answer. 

“Aw, that’s so wonderful,” she chimes, “anyway, you sound busy. You must be working so I’ll let you go. Ciao.” 

She hangs up and you hold the phone to your ear for a moment after the line dies. That was weird. Like she wasn’t really talking to you, but more putting on a show for someone. Strange. 

You drop your arm and a knock comes at the door. You wince and put your phone screen down. You face the door and fold your hands. 

“Uh, who is it?” You call out. 

The door opens and a throat clears, “just me,” Thor says as he enters, “wanted to be sure you got some of the leftovers.” 

He has a container in his hands. You try to blow off the tension and force a smile. You drop your arms straight and drag a finger up and down the seam of your pants. 

“Thanks, that’s too sweet,” you chirp. 

“Ah, I made sure to get you some cinnamon cookies,” he nears and offers the container. 

“Oh, my, I shouldn’t,” you accept the box. 

“You shouldn’t?” He wonders, “you’re not on some diet, are you? You hardly need one.”  

You laugh nervously, “oh, no,” you back up and spin to put the container on the desk. You go back and reach into the box, “I just... I have a rotten sweet tooth, you know? Sugar keeps me up.” 

“Mmm, well, you should indulge. Enjoy. Nothing wrong with allowing yourself the small things,” he goads, “so,” he claps his hands, the sound making you jump, “your office. How do you like it?” 

He looks around theatrically as he pivots. You take out your small blue mug with the teddy bear on it and follow his gaze, “it’s nice. Big.” 

“Yes, I suppose you don’t take up much space,” he remarks, “if you need any supplies, you can just let me know.” 

“Oh, um, I shouldn’t. I... I could just contact finance--” 

“Come to me,” he insists, “accounting takes too long.” 

“Okay,” you agree. 

“Are you excited?” He asks as he turns to you. 

“Sure,” you answer. 

“Mm,” he hums, “you’re sweet, but I don’t want you to stress. If there’s anything overwhelming me, don’t be afraid to let me know.” 

“I know, thank you, Mr. Odinson.” 

“Thor,” he corrects you with a wink, “you don’t know want to know Mr. Odinson.” He grins and you look at him blankly, “my father. He’s an old grump.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you put the cup down and rub your palms together, “it’s been a long day.” 

“It has indeed,” he checks his watch, “you’re almost done... I should let you finish.” He flicks his finger towards your desk, “tomorrow, the heavy lifting begins.” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. 

“Don’t forget your treats,” he points to the container, “you’ve earned it.” 

“Right, thanks again,” your smile trembles as fatigue nips at the corner of your eyes. 

“See you tomorrow morning,” he avows before he spins and goes to the door. 

You return your attention to the box as you sense him hovering at the threshold. You think he’s looking at you but you’re too nervous to check. Finally, the door closes and you exhale and close your eyes. You can’t believe how much today has taken out of you and the days to come promise much of the same. 

🏙️

You yawn as you come out of your building, eyelids heavy and itchy as you rub them with your knuckles. You hitch up your bag as you turn down the sidewalk and cross to the stop on the other side of the street. You barely slept through the anxiety and anticipation. The unknown stresses you out more than anything and you really have no idea what you’re walking into. 

You let your head lean back as you give another silent roar of fatigue. You roll your shoulders and urge yourself to wake up. You got to get with it. You can’t show up at the office half-asleep. 

The whir of an engine approaches and you look towards the direction of the bus route. Its too quiet to be a bus. Instead, there’s a vaguely familiar car that slows instead of passing. You squint and cross your arms defensively. You have to keep reminding yourself this is the city. 

The window rolls down as you bounce on your feet awkwardly, “hey,” your name rises in the deep timbre. 

You bend and find Clark smiling at you. Of course! That’s why you recognised his car. 

“Heyyyy,” you say, “what are you doing... here?” 

“Working on a story, actually. Was in the area and... what timing, huh?” He pushes his shoulder up as he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, “you on your way to work?” 

“Yup,” you answer brightly, swallowing another yawn, “bus should be here soon.” 

“The bus? Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to... that’s too far.” 

“Where do you work?” 

“Tempest,” you answer. 

“Tempest? That’s right by the paper. I’ll take you, no problem.” 

“Really?” Your brows arch dramatically, “that’s so nice of you.” 

“Of course,” he pats the passenger seat and the door unlocks with a loud click.

“I owe you one." You open the door and get in, tempted to melt into the seat. It’s so much better than the stiff ones on the bus. Ugh, your head is tenuous at best. It could start pounding at any minute. 

“How are you?” Clark asks as you buckle in. 

“Alright,” you repress yet another yawn, “how are you? How’s Melly?” 

“Melly?” He chuckles, “she’s fine, I think. I'm... fine too.” 

“Oh...” you twiddle your fingers in your lap as he slowly leans on the gas and pulls away from the curb, “just fine?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve just been... talking a lot. You know, relationship stuff,” he drives with one hand, combing his other through his hair. 

“Ah, right,” you nod, “hopefully it’s okay.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs and puts his other hand on the wheel, “you’re a good friend.” 

“I... guess,” you shrug. “I... I just think Melanie really likes you.” 

“Oh, I know she does,” he laughs, “doesn’t keep her from being... how she is. I like her too but we both know she can be very demanding.” 

“She can be,” you agree, “but I think that’s just her personality. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.” 

“Why would you want that?” he asks. 

“Er...” 

“I just mean, you’re you. Everyone’s different right and you’re just so sweet,” he says, “this world has enough Melanies.” 

“Maybe,” you turn your head and cover your mouth as you yawn at the window. 

“I’m dying for a coffee,” Clark says, his tone shifting smoothly with the topic, “how about you? Green tea?” 

You look at him. He remembers your order? You rub your cheek and drop your hand to your lap. 

“I’m okay, but thank you--” 

“Really, it’s no big deal,” he flips the blinker on, “I need an espresso so, how about it? Iced, hot?” 

You bite the inside of your lip. You really could use a boost. You don’t often get the chance. Your bus ride is too long to factor in a cafe run. 

“Could I get a matcha latte, iced? I have some change,” you open your bag and shove your hand inside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves you off. 

“Really, you’re giving me a ride. The least I can do--” 

“The least you can do is let me buy your drink,” he insists, “because I kinda have a big favour to ask you.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, uh, it’s for Melanie. You must know her birthday is coming up.” 

“Yeah, I know--” 

“I really wanna work through things with her and I figured if I threw her a party, maybe it’s better than all this talking,” he joins the queue for the drive thru, “and you’ve known Melanie a lot longer than me so you’re like an expert. Do you think you could help me out?” 

“A birthday party? Well, I... could try. Mel’s always been the one into parties and planning and all that.” 

“I’m not good at it either but you know what she likes. I could use help at least with colours or whatever,” he suggest, “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to. I’m not going to blackmail you with a car ride and a latte.” 

You laugh rockily, “well, I could try. It wouldn’t be so bad and I should do something special. We’re both finally living in the same city. Maybe this would help with us too.” 

“Us? You and... Mel?” 

You give him a look then look through the windshield. You fidget as he rolls up to the speaker and orders. You wait until he’s done. 

“Things were awkward the other day when I crashed your date night,” you say, “I’m sure you caught on.” 

“Yeah, yeah, she wasn’t very gracious,” his tone lowers sharply. 

“It’s okay. She didn’t mean anything. I’m not upset--” 

“Did she apologise?” He asks abruptly. 

“Uh, yeah, of course, but she doesn’t have to--” 

“I think you deserve the apology,” he interrupts again. “You know, you don’t deserve to be walked all over like that. Hell, if I had friend like you, I think I’d treat you a lot better.” 

“I’m not upset,” you assure him, his mood making you uneasy. It’s flattering he would be so upset on your behalf but you’d rather just put it all behind you, “she said sorry, it’s all good.” You wiggle your foot as you think, “alright, I can help with the party.” 

“Ah, yes, you’re a life saver,” he pulls up to the window and pays. He gets the drinks and hands you the matcha before he slips his in the cup holder, “great, I’ll get your number and we can throw around ideas when you have a chance.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, I could...” the cup soaks your hands in condensation, chilling you, “I’ll do my best. I have a new assignment at work so I’ll be a bit tied up.” 

“No problem, whenever you can. Hope you don’t mind if I send you a couple of pictures I saw,” he says, “tryna come up with a vision, you know?” 

“That’s cool,” you pause to sip the matcha, nearly sighing at the refreshing flow that coats your stomach, “thank you so much for the tea.” 

“Any time,” he says as he pulls out into the street, “anything you need at all.” 

[yandere-writer-momo]

Baki Christmas continues with Jack Hanma as the Nutcracker! Merry Christmas to @tearslikeglass-blog 🎄

Yujiro as the mouse king is the most cursed thing ever but please bear with me 😭😭 this is loosely based of the Nutcracker Barbie movie.

Yandere Baki Shorts: The Nutcracker

Yandere Nutcracker Jack Hanma x Afab Reader

(Your name)’s aunt had gifted her a nutcracker for Christmas. A simple toy that didn’t seem stellar, but it warmed (your name)’s heart regardless. The wooden figurine was quite large and had on a black and red uniform… the nutcracker had such striking cinnamon eyes and blonde hair… (your name) had never seen a blonde nutcracker before.

“Take good care of him. He’s special.” (Your name)’s aunt winked at her. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he has the heart of a prince.”

(Your name) chuckled at the memory as her fingers gently combed the blonde tuft of hair on the nutcracker. “A prince, huh?” She gently placed the nutcracker on her nightstand before she retired for the night. The young woman smiled as she drifted off to sleep. If only that were true…

In the early hours of the morning, she woke up to a loud crash coming from the living room. (Your name) quickly sprang up from her bed and ran towards the Christmas tree where her once inanimate nutcracker was now fighting off an ugly mouse with his fists. They brutally punched each other and her nutcracker was losing. The small toy laid on the hardwood floor in defeat. She quickly swooped in and flicked the mouse away from him before he smashed the nutcracker’s face in.

Before she could further assist her nutcracker, a strange magic encased her body and shrunk her down to the size of a mouse. The mouse was now a muscular man with tattered mouse ears atop a mop of messy crimson hair. He gave her a wicked grin and a wink before he scampered off, which caused the nutcracker to punch the ground in anger

“Great… you let him get away.” The nutcracker hissed as he rose up. The blonde looked less like a toy and more like a man. He stood at a massive height and was a wall of pure muscle but he was still made of wood. He was s lot more intimidating up close… “Did he zap all your brains away? Stop staring at me, it’s weird.”

(Your name) quickly composed herself and gave him a bow. “Oh, I’m sorry. You just look more like a man now rather than a toy-“ the blonde scoffed as he waved her off and tried to follow after the mouse king, but the mouse hole didn’t open a portal when the nutcracker walked close to it. “Just great!”

(Your name) walked over to the mouse hole, a bright light now shined into their faces. How on earth was this possible? “It seems we’ll have to travel together to go after him…” (your name) turned to the blonde with a smile. “I’m (your name) by the way.”

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He really didn’t need any extra baggage at the moment but it seemed he had no choice but to tag her along so he could get his revenge. “I’m Jack… stay behind me at all times. I don’t need anymore trouble.”

Jack then leapt through the portal, which made (your name) frown. He was such a joy.

“So what is the goal?” (Your name) followed behind Jack who told klong strides ahead of her, his guard never down once. “Is there someone we have to find in order to defeat that mouse?”

“That mouse is my father, Yujiro.” Jack sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose again. “And I have to find the Sugar Plum Fairy so I can become human again. Not that it’s any of your business.” (Your name) sighed as the blonde nutcracker continued to trudge ahead of her through the snow. She shivered from her lack of clothing which made the nutcracker pause mid stride. “Let’s stop at the nearest village for supplies. I don’t want you to be dead when we’re not even halfway to the castle yet.”

What a gentleman. Jack threw his coat around her and scooped her up into the crook of his wooden arms. His wooden body did little to warm her but his coat helped her warm up a bit… he smelled like pine.

The first week together was rough. Jack walked too fast and he was very bossy. Sometimes he’d pick her up by the straps of her backpack and carry her like some sort of purse dog. It was humiliating.

Despite being made of wood, Jack still required sleep and food. She wondered if every part of him was made of wood, but he’d always push her away every time she tried to put her hand over his chest. “Don’t touch me, I bite.”

She did her best to try to get close to her only companion but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. They had no similar interests… not that Jack shared much about himself. It was like talking to a brick wall that insulted her half the time. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up in the morning to see the wooden man vigorously training his wooden body to the point of splintering, but he’d somehow magically repair himself whenever she’d touch him. It was very strange to her and Jack just made it seem like it was something he could do without her… but why didn’t he repair himself prior to her arrival? Maybe she didn’t actually have powers and she was going crazy… yeah, that made sense.

The two spent the next four months together tracking the sugar plum fairy but their search seemed fruitless. (Your name) could tell Jack was getting frustrated when every lead they had lead them to a dead end.

Jack constantly protected her from Yujiro’s minions, but he’d get defensive whenever she thanked him. Sometimes he’d even make comments on how weak she was, which hurt her feelings… she couldn’t wait to finally be away from him. He was so mean

Jack saw her as frail and weak but a part of him couldn’t help but be so protective of her. Perhaps it was because she’s been his only companion in the last few years of his life? Or maybe it was how kind she was to him despite how cold and standoffish he was? Jack didn’t understand himself…

(Your name) tried to be civil with him, even friendly but the wooden man still remained as cold as the frozen wasteland of this world she was trapped in

Jack constantly pushed her away whenever she tried to sit or lay beside him for comfort. He never even thanked her for half the meals she’d cook for the two of them… he was nothing but a brute. She looked forward each day for the day she could return to her world. Where she’d no longer have to be around him

Occasionally he’d carry her bag for her, but it was only so she ‘wouldn’t slow them down.’ Jack was aggravating to be near but (your name) slowly began to stop talking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Jack wasn’t too happy about this change… not that he’d ever voice it.

The two camped a few miles from Yujiro’s castle. The young woman frowned as she glanced at the dwindling fire. It was finally near the end of their lonely journey together

“I think we only have a little bit of time left together.” (Your name) smiled softly at Jack who grumbled as he ate the soup she made. The blonde as stiff as ever. (Your name) sighed as she held her knees to her chest. “I’m looking forward to finally going home.”

Jack froze as he glanced over at her solemn form, his cinnamon eyes narrowed at her. He didn’t say a word as she shuffled to wrap her blanket around herself to sleep for the night. She didn’t utter a single good night like she used to and it upset him a bit. She would be going home wouldn’t she? Jack knew he should be happy about it, he’s wanted to be rid of her since the day they started this journey together… so why did a part of him not want her to leave?

Jack almost audibly gasped when he felt his heart beat for the first time in years since he’s became a nutcracker. Why was his heart beating again? Jack didn’t understand the feelings he felt in this moment. He felt so strange, it was a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was a child… he couldn’t be in love with her, right?

(Your name) noticed the smallest of changes in Jack. He’d stand closer to her whenever they’d travel on foot, he even began to carry her in the crook of his arm so she’d ’stop being so slow.’ She appreciated it but she was also a bit frustrated with his treatment of her. Why did Jack always make her feel so useless?

After another week of awkward travel together, they finally arrived at the castle. Jack set her down and charged straight for Yujiro in a fit of rage. His fist swung harshly into the mouse king’s face, but Yujiro only smirked at him. “All these months after me and you’re still so weak.”

(Your name) watched Jack continue to punch Yujiro despite the way his wooden arms began to splinter from the force he used. (Your name) nearly cried when Yujiro grabbed Jack by the scruff of his neck and threw him against the wall. The terrifying man turned to wickedly smile at (your name) who shivered in fear. “See? At least one of you know your place.”

Yujiro walked over to Jack, a cruel smile on his lips as he held his hand up high to crush the nutcracker once and for all but (your name) rushed forward and threw her body between them. A bright flash of light shined over them as Yujiro was reduced to the form of a mere mouse and Jack was now a man.

The blonde quickly sat up in disbelief as he reached out to crush the mouse in the palm of his hand like a grape. His breathing ragged as he glanced over at (your name) who began to cry.

“Why did you-“ Jack couldn’t utter a word as (your name threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. He remained motionless as his shirt became damp from her tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” (Your name) cried as she clung to him. “I just didn’t want you to die.”

Jack frowned as he wiped the mouse guts onto his pants so he could hold her. His heart hammered in his chest as he pulled her close. She cared about him? But he was so mean to her…

This whole time she was the sugar plum fairy, she was the one who was able to help him defeat his evil father… how could he be so blind to it all? Of course she was the sugar plum fairy… which meant she was destined to be with him right? They were meant to be together.

Jack buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. Had she always been this small and warm? So frail… she needed him to keep her safe.

(Your name) glanced over at the portal that opened up before them, one that was just like the one they leapt through all those months ago… she could go home.

(Your name) tried to pull away but Jack held her even tighter like a boa constrictor. “Don’t go.” He whispered as he shook like a leaf. He didn’t want her to leave… he didn’t want to be alone again. “You could stay here with me in this castle. You could be a princess.”

(Your name) frowned. She didn’t want to be in this world any longer and certainly not with Jack. It didn’t seem like he was able to make up his mind about how he felt about her until it was too late.

“Jack… I’m going to head home now-“ Jack suddenly pulled away, his cinnamon eyes stared deeply into hers. “This is your home.”

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter two: covid & carbonara

summary: in a time of isolation, you and carmy find unexpected connection in unexpected places: each other. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19/the pandemic, eventual smut.

word count: 4k

listen to: hot sugar - glass animals | hard to live in the city - albert hammond jr. | alone together - del water gap | foreign girls - bleachers

read: chapter one

March 2020: 

“Carmy, can you hear me now?” you ask, listening carefully for his response. 

“Yeah hold on. Wifi’s shit in this room,” he mumbles. You hear a rustle of sounds and the picture on your phone goes blurry for a second. This is just something you’ve come to accept is a part of your life now as you wait. 

Suddenly, the picture is clear again and it looks like Carmy’s in his living room now. He wears a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants as he tries to get comfy on the shitty sofa in his Flatiron apartment. 

“Ok there we go. I gotta-, yeah, I can hear you now,” he says, finally settling in. 

“How are you?” you ask as you grow more sure that you’re going to be able to talk now. “It’s good to see your face.”

“Yeah, no uh. It’s good to see you too,” he replies. “Shit’s so weird right now, huh?”

“Totally,” you agree. “So… what’ve you been up to? I mean… how are you spending your time?”

He sighs, shaking his head, as if to say that he barely knows how to answer that question. He thinks it over before answering with:

“I don’t know. Workin’ on some recipes. Tryin’ not to lose my fuckin’ head. You?”

“Same,” you commiserate. “Though… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been enjoying some of the down time, you know?”

He couldn’t agree less. 

Carmy tells you about the recipes he’s working on. You share with him the plot of the show you’re binge watching right now. He tells you he hasn’t really been in touch with family much and you let him know that you’ve been running errands for your parents where you can. It’s a fairly normal conversation for a very uncertain and strange time, but it brings you comfort – talking to Carmy. 

You talk about the state of the restaurant industry. The state of the world. The two of you wonder when the restaurant might open back up – if they’ll consider doing to-go’s. He’s not sure and neither are you.

It’s almost two hours later when you realize your phone is dying, and that somehow, time has flown as the two of you have been talking. 

“Shit, uh. My phone’s dying. I may have to go,” you say remorsefully. 

“Oh yeah! No problem,” Carmy replies, almost apologetically. “And I uh, if I get in touch with the people at World Central Kitchen, I’ll let you know. I’m sure they can always use more chefs and volunteers.”

“No, that’d be great. Uh… before I go,” you start, knowing that you want to tell him this. “I just wanted to say… I’m glad we did this.”

“Yeah me too,” he agrees, and you can tell he means it. 

“Maybe… we do it again? Keep each other company… you know. Virtually?” you propose, hopefully. 

“Yeah,” Carmy half smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And as the pandemic drags on, you find yourself FaceTiming with Carmy more and more. Once a week turns into once a week and a consistent exchange of texts. He shares with you the recipes he’s working on. You bounce ideas around with him on dishes he feels stuck on. You send him silly memes and TikToks, even though he refuses to get an account himself. Once a week turns into twice a week, and then phone calls, and soon enough, you don’t go a day without talking to Carmy in some capacity. 

You’re not sure how you’ve done it but you think that maybe you and Carmy just might be friends. 

May 2020: 

“Thanks so much for all the help guys. It means a lot. Especially having two chefs of your caliber,” the volunteer coordinator says, addressing both you and Carmy. 

“Listen, we’re just happy to be a part of something right now. With so much going on… it’s hard to know where to begin helping,” you reply with gratitude. You’re genuinely thankful that you’ve been able to be a part of World Central Kitchen’s COVID relief efforts, and you know Carmy feels the same. 

“We’ll see you guys next Friday?” the volunteer coordinator asks. 

“Heard,” Carmy answers, thanking the coordinator one more time before the two of you leave the building. 

Around the corner, there’s a bench that the two of you find. It’s an easy choice to sit down – neither of you are quite ready to go home yet. You sit on opposite sides before removing your masks as Carmy pulls out a pack of marlboros. 

“You want one?” he asks you, holding out the pack.

“Yeah,” you agree, taking one from him at a distance. You watch him light up, before handing you the lighter he keeps in his jean jacket pocket.

It’s nice to take a moment to pause. Between the chaos of being in a kitchen again to the chaos of the world around you, it feels good to smoke a fucking cigarette on a street corner with the man that’s so unexpectedly become your friend. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sounds of the city, each others’ company, and your fuckin’ cancer sticks. 

You break the silence between the two of you, letting out the smallest chuckle.

“What?” Carmy asks you, your laugh garnering his attention. 

“It’s just… it’s almost funny,” you say, continuing your giggle. 

“What?” he asks you again, a look of amusement on his face. He can’t imagine what must be so funny. 

“Just… seeing you here… Mr. Fine Dining…makin’ sandwiches,” you tease playfully. “Thought you were too fancy-pants for that.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes playfully, sucking on his cigarette as he inhales. You laugh again as he shakes his head, shooting you another look. 

He takes his time, exhaling the smoke out in the opposite direction, before addressing your playful remarks. 

“Nah. It uh-, actually reminds me of my family’s place a little. Back home,” he shares with you. 

It catches you off guard. Carmy rarely ever talks about home, let alone his family. 

“Yeah?” you ask curiously, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod, before placing the cigarette back in between his lips. 

To your disappointment, you realize that’s all he’s planning to share. You resign yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette as the two of you smoke to the sounds of the city. After a long shift at the volunteer kitchen, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you. It’s been a few months since you’ve had to stand for that long, and as exhilarating as it’s been, you can feel the fatigue in your back and your feet already. 

“So… I was thinkin’ about something,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

You angle your body towards him before asking, “What’s that?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.” 

He’s suddenly shy, and your eyes flicker over his cheeks that have turned a darker shade of red than they were before. 

“Carmy, what is it?” you ask, leaning towards him, now intrigued.

He avoids your gaze before he replies, “Nah. Nevermind. It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not! What is it?” you continue to press him.

You’re not going to let this go. 

“I shouldn't've said anything.” 

He sighs, taking one more drag of his cigarette before leaning forward and tossing it on the ground. His left foot hovers over the cigarette butt as he stamps it out, his forearms resting on his legs as he finally turns to you again. 

“I don’t know how you feel about it, and you can totally say no because like… shit’s still fucked, you know but-,” he starts, shyly. Was Carmy about to ask you out?

 He pauses, his eyes scanning the pavement beneath his feet before saying, “It’s just-, I’m not like, seeing anyone else in person. Except you.”

“Yeah, no me either,” you agree. 

Where was this going?

“Would you maybe wanna-?” he asks, before trailing off, his piercing blue eyes so intense it feels like he’s looking right through you. He nods towards the kitchen before continuing with, “... see each other in person. Like outside of here. As long as we’re being safe you know?” 

You nod, quick to put the poor man at ease, and only a little intrigued as to why it was so difficult for him to ask you that. 

“Yeah no. I’m not seeing anyone else in person either. And at this point if we had COVID, we’d probably already have exposed each other, right?” you reply. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

“Yeah, I’d be down. To… you know. Maybe move some of our FaceTimes… in person, if that’s what you mean,” you agree, a smile on your face. 

You’re not sure what you expected, but you weren’t expecting for Carmy to ask you to become his quarantine buddy – even if you’d already kind of been doing it anyways. 

“Cool,” he says, taking a breath. 

You can tell that it was a big deal for him – to ask you that – even if he doesn’t want to show it. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. 

You smile in return, “Yeah. And if you’re feeling wild… we can… pick something up on the way there. You can come up and hang.”

“No, yeah. That uh-, that sounds great,” he replies, something softer in his eyes this time. “If you don’t mind. I mean-, if you want the company-.”

“Oh shut up, Berzatto,” you roll your eyes at him. You shoot him a look, even though you’re kind of loving this softer side of him. 

“I wouldn’t have offered, if I didn’t.”

July 2020: 

Carmen Berzatto becomes an unexpected yet pleasantly surprising part of your support system, and your COVID-pod. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago, you thought the man absolutely hated you. He’s still the hot and cold, emotionally turbulent man you met last October, and he’s also become your friend. You’ve learned that he can be soft, that he’s terribly uncomfortable in any and all social situations, and that he’s the most single-minded, driven, obsessed motherfucker you’ve ever met. 

By now, the restaurant has pivoted and reopened for to-gos only. It’s nothing like the fine dining establishment it was before. You’re only open Thursday to Sunday and it’s a much more family style, to-go kit sort of operation these days: to-go cocktail kits, to-go curated menus, to-go assemble your own dishes at home. 

It’s strange. And it’s a strange time for all of you. 

You’re finished with your shift today, ready to head home and spend the next three days off. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get three days off in a row once all of this is over, so you’ve decided that you’re just going to embrace the slower lifestyle right now. You’ve been more creative in this chapter of your life than you can remember. 

“So you layin’ it down for Carmy or what?” a voice asks, jolting you from your thoughts. 

“Excuse me?” you snap, turning your head to a very smug looking Nate Walker, stripping off his face mask.

“What the fuck, man?” Tim exclaims, as he’s changing back into his street shoes. “Not okay to say.”

“What?” Nate defends himself. “I’m just wondering who I have to thank. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen the boss man.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Really nice, Nate.” 

You shake your head, before slinging your backpack over your right arm, exchanging a look with Tim. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Carmy and I are just friends,” you correct. “Ever think that some time off has been good for all of us and that’s why Carmy’s been chill?”

“‘S not like we’re working at the same capacity we used to be. I think it’s been good for him,” Tim chimes in, trying to offer you a little backup.

“Sure,” Nate replies, unconvinced. 

“What’s it to you anyways, Walker?” Tim asks, putting the spotlight on his coworker. 

“Nothin’,” Nate replies, defensively. “Just noticed you guys spendin’ a lot of time together lately. Besides, the guy could use a good lay.”

“You’re a child,” you snap with an eye roll. You slide your left arm into the other strap of your backpack, ready to leave. “Now if we’re done with the girl talk, I’m going home.”

As you begin to walk away, you can hear Nate defending himself as Tim points out how inappropriate it was for him to say that to you. You’re grateful for people like Tim, because you’re not sure that Nate would listen to anyone else lower in the French brigade system – let alone a woman. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Carmy asks you, as you're on your way out. He’s still in his chef whites because, as the both of you know, he’s going to be the last person to leave. A smile spreads across your face as soon as you see him. 

That’s right. You’re spending your day off tomorrow with him. 

“Yeah,” you smile with a nod. 

“Mine or yours?” he asks. 

You shoot him a look – a ‘I know you haven’t cleaned up your place’ kind of look. 

“Mine,” you reply. 

“Sweet. There’s a cool market nearby I wanted to check out. I’ll pick somethin’ up on the way,” he says back. 

“Heard.”

You wait a beat before adding, “Try not to work too hard, chef.”

He likes that you’re looking out for him. 

He smiles, “Heard.”

*

As much as you’ve tried not to let Nate Walker get to you, you can’t stop thinking about what he said the day before. Did people think you and Carmy were sleeping together? Did the whole staff think you were trying to sleep your way to the top? Your mind races, and you notice the anxious feelings you have have settled deep in your chest. Carmy moves around your kitchen, intentionally, and while you’d like to enjoy how happy he looks when he cooks for fun, you can’t seem to shut off your brain. 

“You sure I can’t help? I went to culinary school too, yknow?” you ask, trying to put on your best lighthearted tone. 

“Nah,” he dismisses, pulling together a sauce in one of the glass bowls you keep in your kitchen for prep. 

As Carmy steals a glance your way, he’s surprised to find that whatever weight it seems you were carrying when he first walked in, hasn’t gone away. He returns his focus to the stovetop, shaking the stainless clad frying pan that holds his precisely-cut lardons. 

“What’s up?” he asks you, keeping his back to you. 

“Uh… nothing,” you reply, trying your best to shake it off. 

He knows you’re lying, and he turns to look at you again, more intently this time. Your lips are pressed together in a thin line and there’s a new tension knitted between your brows that’s not normally there. As much as you’re trying not to let it get to you, your face betrays you and he knows that something’s been bothering you all day. He shoots you an unconvinced look and you sigh in defeat. 

Since when had Carmy learned what that look meant. 

“Just-, you’re gonna think it’s dumb,” you start, almost embarrassed that you have to bring this up to him. 

“What’s up?” he asks, patiently. 

You shrug, “Just something that Nate said yesterday’s been… bothering me, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a dry laugh as he asks you, “Well Nate’s a dick. What’d he say?”

“I-, I don’t know if I should tell you,” you admit hesitantly. 

“Why?” he asks, a pang of nerves hitting him right in the gut. 

You wait a beat, trying to figure out how best to convey what Nate said without freaking Carmy out. 

“He uh… he kind of… suggested that everyone thinks we’re sleeping together?” you say cautiously, your voice going up at the end of the sentence, almost as if it were a question. 

“Oh,” is all Carmy manages to get out. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“Well, we’re not,” Carmy replies, simply. 

Right. 

“Right,” you agree. 

You’re surprised by the feeling of disappointment that wells in your chest in response to Carmy’s reply. This had been eating away at you and for him to shut it down so quickly – like it was that simple – doesn’t quite make sense to you. 

Maybe it’s because men never bear the burden of an inappropriate workplace relationship, not that you’re having one with Carmy, but you know it’d be a bigger cost to you than it’d ever be for him.

“I just…” you start, beginning to understand why it’s bothering you so much. “Do you think… like is it a problem that we’re hanging out? I mean, you are kind of my boss and… I don’t know. I guess we never really talked about the ethical implications of… you know. Us. Being friends. And also working together.”

Friends. 

Right. 

Maybe because it’s because he’s never really had friends, let alone a girlfriend, that catches Carmy off guard.

You’re just friends, motherfucker, Carmy thinks to himself. 

It’s like he’d almost forgotten. 

Perhaps it’s the isolation – the way of the world right now – but he’s never thought about what you were to him. Ever since the two of you had decided to start spending time together, it had been you and him against a very scary and uncertain world. Carmy’s surprised to find that, hearing it said aloud, friends, leaves him with a feeling of dissatisfaction – like the word friend didn’t quite describe the way he felt about you. 

But he’s terrified to think about what that could mean. That anything else would probably scare you away – push you out of his life – and there’s no way in hell he’s going to let that happen right now. 

Because he likes this too much. 

Because he likes who he is when he’s with you. 

Because you’re all he has. 

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind for another time, because right now, you’re sitting right in front of him, and he’s got a problem to solve for you. 

“As long as we’re professional in the kitchen… I don’t see why it should be a problem,” he says. 

You’re not sure how it seems so simple for him, because it doesn’t feel this simple for you. 

“Yeah, no. I-, I agree,” you lie. 

Carmy returns to what he’s doing, and you accept that that’s probably the full conversation that you’re going to have with him. At least right now. You watch as he continues to cook, pulling together the sauce as he tosses the pasta and cheese in your frying pan. You open up your phone, scrolling through a few social media posts to try your best to get your mind off of your worries as Carmy finishes up in your kitchen. 

It’s not long before he’s returned to your small dining table. You set your phone down, watching as he approaches you. 

“I remember you mentioning that it’s hard to find a good carbonara so uh… thought I’d make you one,” he says confidently. Carmy hands you bowl containing a perfectly twirled nest of spaghetti, along with a fork he’d gotten from your kitchen. 

“How do I know it’s gonna be up to my standards?” you challenge him playfully. 

He shoots you a ‘don’t play with me’ kind of look and you giggle in response. You exchange glances with Carmy before messing up the perfectly plated nest by digging your fork into it. 

“Make sure you get a little bit of everything,” he reminds you. He watches as you twirl the spaghetti around your fork, making sure to scoop up a bit of crispy guanciale. You lift the fork to your mouth before taking a bite, your eyes closing as the salty, cheesy, bite hits your tongue. 

It’s perfect.  

“Holy fuck,” you practically moan in response to your first bite. You open your eyes and he smiles back at you, proud of the response he’s earned from you. Your face twists into a look that falls somewhere between ‘this is so good I’m angry and hello, I’ve reached nirvana.’ 

“This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude,” you say, as you continuing processing the most perfect carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. 

“No offense taken,” he says. 

You shake your head at him, “Best carbonara ever.”

September 2020: 

“So we go upstate, and we’re searching for outdoor activities we can do, you know, safely, at a distance, with masks on. And we end up at this goat farm,” Maya says, describing her and her fiance’s last few months spent in upstate New York. 

“...Was the goat named Milo?” Carmy asks, a humorous tone to his question. 

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, shooting him a look. 

“What?” he asks back. 

Both Liz, Maya, and her fiance Patrick send you questioning looks. 

“I-, it’s an inside joke,” you explain, shaking your head once again in response to Carmy’s very silly interjection. 

“Anyways, it’s so nice to be back in the city. Seriously, Liz, thanks for organizing this,” Maya continues. 

“Oh, I’m kind of getting really into this whole cute picnic thing actually,” she replies, in reference to the picnic she’s organized for the five of you. “Plus, the to-go picnic kit has been killing at the restaurant. Thanks for letting me run with that, chef.”

“No, yeah. You’re killin’ it. It was a great idea,” Carmy compliments. 

The five of you spend time in the park, catching up and enjoying time spent in person for the first time in a long time. You, Liz, and Carmy have been back at work, pushing through, what will hopefully be, the last month or so in the to-go only business at the restaurant. As the sun begins to come down, you all agree that it’s time to pack it up and go home. You’ve begun to collect all of the trash in a brown paper bag as Carmy offers to take it. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

As he takes a walk, in search of the nearest trash can, your friends are immediately on you about whatever the hell it is that you and Carmy are doing. 

“So what I’m hearing is… you talk every day, you have inside jokes together, and you’re basically quarantining together. How are you trying to tell us that this man is not your boyfriend?!” Maya exclaims. Her partner shrugs in agreement. 

“I know that what Nate said was hella inappropriate, but he’s not wrong… that this is the most I’ve seen him relaxed in… maybe since we met him,” Liz adds in as your friends make their case. 

“He seems into you,” Patrick offers. 

“I-,” you start, knowing you don’t have much time before Carmy returns. “I don’t know. All I know is… I like what we have. And right now, we’re friends so.”

“God, you’re so good at it,” Maya sighs. 

“What?” you ask, looking from her to Liz as they exchange glances. 

The both turn to you, before saying in unison, “Compartmentalizing!” 

Patrick holds his hands up as he says, “I’m gonna stay out of this one.”

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks, rejoining you and your friends. 

You can practically feel Liz and Maya staring at you. 

“Yeah,” you reply to Carmy. 

You say your goodbyes before going your separate ways, and Maya swears when Carmy isn’t listening that you’re not done talking about this. It’s just been you and Carmy for so long that you hadn’t thought about what it might look like to other people. Now that things were slowly reopening… you were beginning to get more questions, and maybe, you were beginning to have more questions too. 

But the last time you’d tried to bring up any conversation about your relationship with Carmy, he’d shut it down and distracted you with the best carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. Not that you were complaining, definitely not, but you were hesitant to bring it up any time soon.  As Carmy looks at you, there’s something about the way you look against the backdrop of the city, the setting sun, and the sparkling lights, that catches him off guard. He’s not ready to part ways with you yet.

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy offers, hopefully. 

“Sure,” you nod.

read chapter three

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[laundrybiscuits]

(soulmates AU continued from Part 1)

Eddie has a blotchy, uneven blob on his wrist. 

His jacket sleeve had been covering it up every time Steve had seen him in that long, terrible week, so when they’re finally let into his hospital room, Steve can’t help the way his face twists in surprise. He’s never heard of anyone with that kind of soulmark before. 

Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice Steve gawking. He’s cuffed to the bed and he looks so breakable in his thin hospital gown, blinking blearily at them before his gaze slides away again. 

“Hi, Eddie,” says Nancy.

Eddie’s mouth twitches up into what could be a smile before he winces. Half of his face is wrapped in big white bandages. 

It’s strange to see everything around him in whites and greys and pale blues. He looks more out of place here than he had in the Upside Down. 

“Hey,” he rasps. “Y’here for Red?” 

“Yes, we are,” Nancy says, crossing to his side. “And we’re here for you too. How are you feeling?”

“Like…what’s his name. Prometheus.”

Nancy laughs, and Steve folds his arms defensively. He hates when people talk about all that fantasy shit like it’s a normal thing to know. 

“The hell does that mean?” he snaps, before he remembers he should probably be a little nicer to Eddie. Nancy’s already glaring at him. 

“Greek guy,” says Eddie. He doesn’t sound mad or anything. “Dared to steal fire from the gods. Got his liver eaten every day.”

“Wait, every day? How does that even work?”

Eddie grins with half his mouth. “That’s the bitch of it, Harrington. He regrows it every time, just to get it eaten again. Poor fucker never gets to die, just—just keeps hurting.”

“Well, we’re very glad you didn’t die either,” says Nancy, patting his cuffed arm. It’s the one with the weird blobby mark, but she doesn’t seem like she even notices. “It’s so ridiculous that they’ve got you in handcuffs like this. I’ll talk to someone, maybe—”

Eddie waves his free arm languidly. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Wheeler. Prometheus, right? He always…always grows it back again.” He’s starting to slur his words a little, drifting. 

“Hey, man,” says Steve. “We’ll let you get some rest, okay? But we’ll—we’ll be back.”

“Ten-four, good buddy,” says Eddie, and closes his eyes. 

———

Steve wants to bring up Eddie’s weird mark with Nancy, but he doesn’t know how to not make it seem like he’s trying to get her back. 

So the next time he gets a chance, he asks Dustin as casually as he can: “Hey, you ever see Eddie’s soulmark?”

“Hah!” says Dustin. “No way. He covered it up years ago, before we ever even met him.”

“Wait, covered it up? Like…”

“Like, he decided to reject the uncaring hand of fate in a super permanent way.” Dustin pauses, squinting at Steve’s confused face. “He got a cover-up tattoo. Obviously.”

“Oh, sure, obviously. Totally normal thing to do,” says Steve, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, I’ve never even heard of that before.” 

Later, the unwelcome thought that’s been prowling around the edges of his mind finally takes shape: what if Nancy wants to get a cover-up? 

She wouldn’t, would she? 

He doesn’t want to remember the way she always preferred long sleeves, even when they were dating; how she’d slide her fingers tight over her wrist compulsively, clutching, sometimes for no reason at all that he could see. 

———

Soulmarks aren’t even that common, so he’s always seen his mark as kind of like a prize. It had felt like winning the lottery, when he’d watched the tidy script appear on his skin a few weeks after his thirteenth birthday. 

He’d been a little surprised when he met Nancy Wheeler for the first time, a whole year and a half later; he’d never thought he’d go for someone like her. But then she turned out to be smart and passionate and surprisingly pretty after all, and the knowledge of a future together had sounded better and better all the time. 

And now…Robin said, once, that maybe there was another Nancy Wheeler out there just waiting to meet him. The thought fills him with syrupy dread. He’s pretty sure Robin was trying to be nice and comforting, he just really hates the idea that he’s been getting it wrong all this time; that he tried so hard and felt all those things for nothing. But it’s Nancy’s handwriting for sure, just like it’s his on her wrist, and it seems pretty impossible that there’s also another Steve Harrington out there for her too. 

So it has to work out, it all has to fit together in the end. It’s going to. He holds onto that for a very long time.

———

Steve doesn’t really get another chance to look at Eddie’s shitty cover-up for a while. At first, he thinks visiting Max and Eddie can be something he and Nancy could maybe do together, but she’s pretty busy handling the legal side of things. From what Jonathan says, it sounds like she’s actually managing to get a pretty good deal for both of them, like maybe there’ll be a duplex in a not-too-bad part of town with the Mayfield-Munson name on it. She’s good at that kind of thing, according to Jonathan. Steve wouldn’t really know.

It’s really obvious that Jonathan doesn’t know how to be around Steve. Like, how do you hang out with the guy who’s got your soulmate’s name etched on his skin by destiny? But somehow they make it work. 

In fact, Steve’s started to take some strange kind of comfort from it. Jonathan’s probably the only other guy who knows what it’s like, this off-kilter funhouse vertigo of Nancy’s choice. It connects the two of them even more than it connects either of them with Nancy, probably. 

Steve doesn’t blame Jonathan anymore, is the point. If—when Nancy comes back to him, they’ll both be better off because Jonathan’s been in their lives. He gets that now.

Anyway, Nancy’s busy with paperwork or yelling at men in suits or whatever it is she’s actually doing, but Steve still wants to see Max and Eddie. Mostly Max, to be honest, but it’s not like he doesn’t want to see Eddie too. He barely knows the guy, but he thinks it’s pretty normal that he feels some kind of connection or bond or whatever. It’s normal, after going through some shit with another guy his own age, to want to get to know him a little more. 

Of course, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson isn’t exactly normal, so Steve tries not to feel hurt when he opens the door and Eddie’s whole body flinches back, arms coming up protectively, eyes big and scared. 

“Sorry,” says Steve, suddenly feeling like he should’ve knocked. “Didn’t mean to startle you, dude.”

Eddie bows from the waist, which looks fucking ridiculous when he’s sitting up on the bed hooked up to a bunch of monitors and stuff. He looks way better than the last time they’d been in the same room. 

“Not at all, good sir,” he drawls. “Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry I can’t offer you any refreshments; we’re shockingly low on pudding cups.”

“Right,” says Steve. He’d forgotten the way Eddie talks and how it makes him feel two steps behind sometimes. Like Dustin, kind of, but not as annoying for some reason. Maybe Eddie’s a little nicer about it, he guesses, though nice isn’t exactly a word he’s ever associated with Eddie Munson before. 

Without really meaning to, he glances at Eddie’s wrist. It’s tucked casually away against his stomach, half-hidden by the hospital sheets. 

“Yeah, uh,” says Eddie. “Henderson…said you asked about. You know.”

Steve feels betrayed, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He hadn’t told Dustin not to say anything, because it wasn’t—it wasn’t fucking relevant to anything, so why would Dustin even mention it? Goddamn asshole kid. 

Eddie holds out his arm, wrist up, fingers loosely curled. 

“Doesn’t bite,” he says, so Steve takes the invitation and comes closer. He almost reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, but that would be a weird thing to do, so he doesn’t. 

After a moment, Steve says, “I just don’t get why you’d do that.”

Eddie cocks his head. “No? You don’t get why someone might not want to do exactly as they’re told, Ozzy?”

Steve doesn’t know what he expected. Just the typical Munson rebel bullshit after all. But he’s here, and Max is sleeping, so he might as well throw himself into the shiny plastic chair and say, “Whatever, man. How’re you doing?”

As Eddie launches into a convoluted story about some nurse feud he’s been eavesdropping on, Steve makes sure not to let his gaze drift to the obscene blob blotting out the fine tendons and blue veins on his wrist; doesn’t wonder at all about what else that ink might be covering up, and definitely doesn’t wonder why Eddie would want to throw away his one and only universe-approved shot at true love. 

What would be the point?

[luveline]

May I request more Eddie and Roan? I love and miss them. 🥺

“Roan’s in the bathroom.” 

You look up from your book quizzically. “How can you tell?” 

Eddie can tell because his fiendish spawn has been quiet far too long this morning, that and there’s a strange groan of the floor whenever someone stands near the sink. 

“I thought she was still sleeping,” you say, closing your book around your fingers. “Free time is over?”

Eddie laughs at you. It’s weird for him to get to lie here and do nothing, but weirder to do nothing with you (weird in the best way, the only way he’d ever want it). You’re just sitting there in your rumpled pyjamas looking as beautiful as the day you asked him out, and he looks about as underdressed as he did then, he’s sure, his t-shirt rolling at the neck and his pants stained with jelly. He wonders if this is the best part of domestic life, getting to sit and know Roan is safe if naughty, and you’re with him. Not doing anything in particular, just sitting with him, your thighs and calves touching, two (three) against the world. 

“You can stay and finish your book,” he says. 

“I’d be here for hours.” 

Eddie takes your wrist and drags you toward him for a kiss too brief to bother closing his eyes. “Mm, if you want to. I’ll go see what miss is up to.” 

You shake your head strangely, so he waits before standing. The sheets are pushed to the bottom of the bed, your bare calves peeking out of ridden pants. He reaches for your ankle. “What?” he asks, giving it a squeeze. 

“Can we… can we try to spend as much time together today as possible?” 

Eddie doesn’t need to ask you what you mean, but he does, he wants you to feel heard, “You feel like we’re not spending much time together?” 

“Not as much as I want.” 

You look embarrassed, and there’s no need for it. He can hear a tap running in the bathroom and he needs to investigate sooner rather than later, but he thinks this is pressing too. “Okay. Deal, babe.” He remembers how badly he wanted you at the beginning. He still wants you, but there was this unsure nervousness that ate him every time you came around, wondering when you’d stop. You never did.

Eddie holds up his pinky. “Shake on it?” 

You wrap your pinky around his and shake. 

“You better get up then,” he says. “We gotta go see what trouble’s doing.” 

You beam and hold his hand, letting him lead you to the bathroom, where the door is open, and Roan is washing her arms in the sink. 

“Whatcha doing?” Eddie asks her. 

She turns with wide eyes. “I got too much soap on my hands!”

“Oh no!” he says, your scratchy laughter behind him. “How did that happen?” 

There’s soap on her sleeves, on the floor, bubbles all over the sink and even on her cheek. Eddie lets you go to come up behind her, to her adorable relief. 

“I was trying to get my hands extra clean because Uncle Steve said germs live on the toilet,” she says. 

“They do,” Eddie says, guiding her hands under the water, messing with the faucet when the water comes out cruelly cold. “Here we go, nice and warm for you, bub. Don’t scrub anymore.” He holds her hands apart. “Let’s just wait for it to wash off.” 

You drop a towel by their feet. Roan and Eddie step onto it. He can see her socks are soaked, as are her sleeves. “We’ll get changed,” he says, holding his arm back for another towel, which you give quickly. “Let’s just dry you off, sweetheart. Way too much soap. There are lots of germs on the toilet but one squirt of soap is enough for next time.” 

“Ohh-kay.” 

Eddie dries her hands, her arms, and kisses her cheek. “Good morning.” 

“Yes! Good morning!” she says back, turning in his arms for a hug. 

Eddie pulls her up into his chest. “Listen, me and Y/N have agreed to be stuck together today,” he whispers.

“Are you not stuck together most of the time?” she asks. 

You laugh again. “We are.” 

Eddie hikes her up onto his hip and drags you in on his other side. This is how you stay for much of the day, hip to hip, hands intertwined. You sit in thankfully dry pyjamas around the kitchen table eating dinner with your chairs unreasonably close together, Roan included. Eddie doesn’t find it suffocating for even a moment. This is how he likes it, his girls, their quirks, and a salad absolutely loaded with roasted bacon bits. 

“Yum,” Roan says as she grabs a cherry tomato off of his plate. 

Eddie squirms at her. “Not cool, babe.” 

You drop two of your tomatoes onto his plate. Roan steals another one as he leans down to give you a thank you kiss, but it’s fine. She giggles as she eats it.

Eddie goes princess style with it and cups the back of your head to feel you smiling into his lips. “Sick of me yet?” he asks. 

You murmur a sweet no and close your eyes again. Eddie kisses you quick and pulls you in for a hug, ignoring the fork in your hand. 

[familyvideostevie]

october sixth

day six: james potter james brings you to a campfire with his friends | fluff! james being flirty | 1.1k

It’s a bit of strange magic that you haven’t met James’s friends yet. Not officially, anyway. In passing, sure, and James has told you all about them. He talks about the boys and their antics constantly and assures you that the girls will adore you. It’s only a matter of time before you all get together.

Not for lack of trying, of course. But Remus was out of town and then Sirius had the flu which he gave to Marlene and then everyone was busy with an old schoolmate’s wedding and you were swamped with work and it’s been almost three months since your first date and you still haven’t been properly introduced.

It doesn’t bother you that much. In fact, you’re pretty sure it bothers James much more. “I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you,” he says. “It’s bloody weird that it’s worked out like this.”

The fix comes with the change of the seasons. Lily’s parents have a country house and invite everyone for a weekend of bonfires and warm drinks and general lazing about.

“A country house, James? Really?” you say when he tells you. He shrugs.

“We go every year. You’ll love it.”

So you agree. It’s not until you’re literally about to turn into the drive that the nerves hit you all at once. Your leg bounces in the passenger seat of James’s car and he puts his palm on your knee to still it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “No harm, no foul.”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

James grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I’d turn around right now if you asked,” he says. “Seriously.” His dark gaze is steady and warm.

“I will not ask that,” you say. “I want to meet them. I just —”

“They’ll love you,” James says firmly. “They know all about you and they are just as offended that this hasn’t happened sooner. They all blame me, actually.”

He turns off of the long road and the house emerges in front of you like a fairy tale. It’s a country house, sure, but it’s clearly large and nicer than anything you’ve ever seen.

“I hope you’ve only told them good things,” you say. James turns off the car and allows you to stall for a few moments.

“No, I’ve told them how you snore and leave your kitchen cabinets open all the time,” he deadpans. You laugh and he grins. “Have you got your silly bag?”

The tote at your feet is full of things you’ve brought with, despite James’s protests. Licorice for Sirius, cider for Remus, Lily’s favorite biscuits from town. You made sure to have a little something for everyone even though your boyfriend assured you that buying their loyalty wasn’t necessary.

“They’re already on your side since you put up with me,” he’d said.

But now you just nod. James gives your hand one last squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he says. You let yourself look at him, really look at him in the way you know he enjoys. He looks excited, almost boyish. Fall suits him with his sweater and waxed jacket, a hat tucked into his pocket. His hair is a mess and his glasses need to be cleaned.

You adore him.

“Let’s do it.”

You arrive at the front door to a flurry of activity. Everyone spills out and there are cries of your name and hugs and you hand off your items, feeling a bit shy.

“My god,” Sirius says, looking at his licorice. “She’s perfect, Jamie.”

Remus thanks you with an easy smile for the cider and Lily actually screams when you pull out the biscuits.

“She’s a keeper, Potter,” she shouts. “If you ever want to ditch him,” she says to you, “you’re welcome to. You can hang out with the girls.”

You get pulled from James and meet Dorcus and Marlene and they take you up to your room. The sun has almost set so they tell you to put some more layers on and come down to the bonfire when you’re ready.

“See?” James says as he spills into the room. He tosses your bags on the bed. “They love you more than they love me.”

“I am rather charming,” you say. He laughs and kisses you once, twice, three times. He backs you up against the door and you have to push him away. “They’re expecting us at the bonfire, James.”

He pouts. “Fine,” he says. “If you insist.”

The evening is a fun one. There are jokes and stories and games, everyone drinking to stay warm and snacking on junk food.

You wander back from a trip to the bathroom to find that the seats have reshuffled, the conversations moved. James waves you over.

He’s bathed in the light of the fire, the flames making the lenses of his glasses shine in the dark. The bench he’s on has no more room but he grins and pats his thigh.

You raise your eyebrows. Really? He winks.

You do as he asks and perch on his thigh, knees smushed into his other leg. He wraps his arm around your back to keep you from falling if you lean too far. Dorcus is telling a story about some adventure she and Marlene went on last week, so no one really looks at you.

James tugs on your ear. You lean down and his lips brush against your skin. “This is nice. Are you having fun?”

You nod. “I am,” you say into his hair. “They’re lovely.”

“Thank you for coming.” You know James is mostly happy-go-lucky, pleased as punch to do anything, a real sunshine boy. But you also know it has bothered him immensely that two important parts of his life have been separate until now. He’s worried endlessly that you think he’s not keen on your relationship despite your assurances otherwise. So you are glad that you’re here, even if you were nervous at the start. You just want him to be happy.

He kisses your cheek until you turn your head enough for him to capture your lips. You can’t wait to be in his arms in bed tonight.

“Oi!” Sirius yells. “Stop canoodling. It’s obscene.” He’s teasing, obviously, but you tuck your face into James’s neck anyway.

“Aw, let them,” Lily says. “You’re just bitter you’re single as fuck.”

“Hey!” Everyone laughs. You feel James’s chuckle more than hear it and you put your palm on his chest. His heart is beating steadily. You can hardly believe he’s given it to you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[peterman-spideyparker]

Strange (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been meaning to post this for months as the sequel to 6B inspired by this instrumental cover, but the actual inspiration to post it and get it out of my drafts folder has been lacking. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Summary: You've gotten to know your neighbor, Matt, and have grown very close to him over the last few months. Not only that, but his friend group has readily accepted you into the fold. But when they want to come and see a concert you're in and things start to go wrong, you're not only worried about the performance, but letting them down.

Click here for some listening inspiration!

Warnings: Fluff (Matt and Reader being sooo into one another but unable to just say it, kissing, Matt being supportive), angst (Reader has a panic attack)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 2,349

“You know,” Foggy says as he downs his drink. “I could have been a butcher.”

Karen and Matt groan, which means this is a frequent story that Foggy likes to tell anyone who can listen.

“Please, spare her this one,” Matt begs melodramatically. “You’ll scare her away.”

“Yeah, and it’s been nice for me these last few months to have another woman in this circle of weird,” Karen chuckles before she drinks her beer. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say with a small smile, sipping your drink. “Tell me.”

“Fine, we’ll go with the abridged version: I wanted to break ranks from cured meat, got into Columbia to do law, expected to get rich, and now get paid in bananas and strawberry rhubarb pie,” Foggy huffs.

“Yeah, but that pie means you’re doing good work helping the people that need it. And it’s a delicious perk of friendship with you guys,” you grin as you all clink your drinks together.

“Professor (Y/L/N)?” you hear a voice call through the noise of the bar.

You all look over, and you notice a small group of your students at a table in the bar. They wave and cheer, making their way over to where you sit.

“Hi guys,” you smile. “It’s nice to see you out instead of in rehearsal.”

“Well, even the workaholics gotta take a break,” one of your students says.

“We just wanted to say hey before we left,” another says. “We’re on our way to dinner at a friends. But we’ll see you in class and at your concert.”

At the mention of your upcoming performance, you feel a blush burn on your cheeks as you wave goodbye to them, knowing you're about to undergo the third degree.

“You’ve got a concert coming up?” Matt says, turning toward you, his knee brushing against yours.

“Yes,” you confirm with a sheepish dip of your head.

“Is she trying to be humble as a way to dissuade us from gathering more information, counselor?” he leans over to Foggy.

“I believe so,” Foggy hums. “Ms. Page, since the client is hostile, we are enlisting your investigative journalism talents.”

“My rates have gone up,” she chuckles as she brings her drink to her lips. “I don’t think you can afford it.”

“I’m assuming you’re gonna keep this jig up until I tell you what you want?” you interject.

“Ah, so astute, Ms. (Y/L/N),” Matt smirks.

“Saturday at seven in the Miller Theatre at Dodge Hall on campus. Happy?”

“Extremely. Nelson and Murdock always gets their case,” Foggy laughs.

“What kind of music are you going to be playing?” Karen beams with interest.

“Nothing special, really. I’m going to do some conducting, playing some covers, and some original pieces—.”

“Originals?” Foggy grins.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” you say softly. “I appreciate you enthusiasm, really, it means a lot.”

“But you don’t want us there,” Matt says softly, picking up on your tone.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you there, I just . . . it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Foggy repeats.

“But musicians want people to hear their music, right?” Karen continues.

“I love to share my music. But when people I know are in the audience—.” You shrug, an overwhelming sense of inadequacy washing over you. “It’s like I’m gonna disappoint them.”

The mood of the group is immediately changed, and you feel your face grow hot again.

“Listen,” you start again quietly. “I have to teach an early class tomorrow morning. I’ll see you guys later.”

You pull the money out of your wallet to cover my beers, giving a gentle squeeze to Matt’s knee as you wave goodbye to your friends. 

“(Y/N), wait!” you hear Matt call after you on the sidewalk. “Wait!”

You stop in your tracks, turning in time to watch him fold up his cane. “Matt, listen—.”

“No, please, let me,” he breathes as he comes to a halt in front of you. “I’m sorry if we made you feel weird. We just want to be here to support you. If us coming to your concert would make you uncomfortable, we won’t come, but we’ll be with you in spirit. But I can say with confidence that no matter what, you could never disappoint us—you could never disappoint me.”

You give him a soft smile, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Matt,” you tell him. “If you guys want to come, you can. Just keep the expectation bar low?”

A soft laugh falls from his chest, and it’s more beautiful than any composition you could have put together. “If it makes you feel better, we will keep the bar on the ground. Now c’mon, let me walk you back to your place.”

“You sure it’s not out of your way, Murdock?” you grin.

He loops his arm in yours and lets out a long sigh. “It’d be a bit of a hike, but, I’d only do it for you.”

“Please, please, please,” you breathe as you move into the audience, hoping this is one of the rare occasions that your friends didn’t listen to you. You almost burst into tears when you see Matt, Foggy, and Karen in the front row with flowers in hand. Before you can even move to try and get close to them, you watch as Matt gets up from his seat and unfurls his cane, slowly approaching you.

“Matt!” you call softly, watching him turn his head in your direction.

“You okay?” Matt asks you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re oozing nerves so much a blind man can tell.”

“I . . . no,” you whimper. “The last song is a duet—piano and violin. My pianist just called and has the stomach flu and is currently in the hospital for dehydration. I-I . . . Matt, I don’t know what to do. I’m freaking out—I don’t freak out, and I’m freaking out.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“See, I could do it, but I can’t play the violin and piano at the same time. I have to think of something new on the fly. I can’t think on the fly like this. I wrote that piece months ago for tonight, and now it’s out the window! I can improvise when I play, but I can’t think of a new plan on the spot.”

“(Y/N), you need to take a deep breath.”

“What does a heart attack feel like? I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Matt places your hand on his chest, square in the middle, mirroring the action with his own. “Take some deep breaths for me, okay? I’m right here. Focus in on my heartbeat.” You match your breathing with his, putting all your focus into your breathing pattern. “There you go. Nice and slow, just like that. Tell me how I can help.”

“Matt—.”

“Please. Let me at least try to help.”

You suck in your bottom lip and bite it, grabbing his hand and pulling him to one of the side rooms with a piano.

“You said you played piano in church when you were little, right?” you confirm as you sit on the bench, pulling him down next to you.

“Yeah, I did,” he nods.

“I’m really hoping that brain of yours is photographic-adjacent,” you say as you sit on the bench. You begin to press the keys gently, the notes softly reverberating in the room. You play it as you have a million times before, and you can tell by Matt’s laser-focused on how you press the keys: he’s absolutely astonished by each note, capturing the sound and storing it away in his mind. When you finish, you turn on the bench and look at him while he looks at you with nothing but affection. 

“That was absolutely amazing,” he breathes, sounding utterly awestruck.

You blush, immensely flattered. “Do you think you can mimic it?”

“I think it’s doable,” he says with a gentle but confident grin. "Can I ask, why me? There's a stage full of musicians behind the curtain."

"I trust you," you say, your heart racing once more. "And that's not to say I don't trust them, but, I think you're the only one that can help, and I trust you with every bone in my body."

He places his hand on top of yours. "Let me give it a try."

You move from the bench, allowing Matt to take your place as he replicates the piece note for note, sounding identical to what you just played.

“And just when I think you couldn’t get more amazing,” you whisper with a smile, almost on the verge of tears from being so grateful. “Are you comfortable going up and doing that at the end of the night?”

“Of course. For you, of course,” Matt breathes. 

You smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before you take his hand and pull him from the bench and back to the main performance hall. “I can walk you up to the stage when it’s time,” you tell him. “I’ll never be able to thank you for this, Matt. Honestly.”

“Save your thank-you’s for when the night is over,” he hums, giving your hand a tender squeeze. “You’ll be amazing—you are amazing. And I will be right there with you every step of the night, with every note you play.”

With a shaky breath, you squeeze his hands once more before you resume your position backstage, and give a pep-talk to your performers. By the time you make it to the stage, you go on auto-pilot, tuning into your performers, the audience, and how everything comes together as you lead them and play matching melodies with instruments of your own. You feel extra flushed when you reach the near-end of the program when you have to address the audience before your final piece.

“This next song will be the last one of the night,” you start. “I want to thank you all for taking the time out of your busy lives to come here and enjoy the music brought to you by these absolutely talented musicians. This last piece is an original duet I have put together over the last couple of months. New York isn’t my home. I grew up all across the country, but I first came to this city to get my degree from this very institution. Fate brought me back here, and even though I lived in this city for the formative years of my adult life, everything felt so new and different when I came back, but it also felt like I hadn’t left for a moment. It was strange. Upon my return to the city, I met a spectacular human that embodies that strangeness, but also oozes hope, kindness, empathy, and acceptance, and I’m honored that he has agreed to join me in my final performance of the night on the piano.”

Moving down from the stage, you meet Matt at his seat, offering your arm for him to take as you guide him up to the piano. As he sits, he squeezes your hand one more time, just as he has so frequently before, and you know that no matter what happens in the next three minutes, everything will be okay because Matt believes in you, even if you haven’t believed in yourself. Softly, you count off, Matt gently pressing on the keys for a few notes before you join in on the violin. Everything blends together beautifully—better than you ever could have imagined. You both play as if you were a duo that have been playing together all of your lives, and you don’t exactly process that the song is over until it happens and the crowd rises to their feet and erupts in applause. You put your instrument down, taking Matt’s hand and bringing him to the edge of the stage to take a bow with you as the curtains close. You wrap Matt in the biggest hug you physically can, burying your face into his neck.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you just did,” you breathe into him. “Thank you so much, Matty.”

He squeezes you tight, holding the back of your head and smoothing down your hair. “You were amazing, angel,” he whispers before leaning back from the hug. “Everything was so incredibly great. It all sounded so beautiful. I am so, so incredibly proud of you.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads all over your body, starting from your tummy and flowing outward, making your skin burn hot. Your lips part slightly, your heart skipping a beat when you notice Matt’s tongue poke out and wet his lips. 

“(Y/N), I—,” he starts, but you glide your hands up to cradle his face, pulling him in for a kiss. He gladly receives it, moaning into your lips and holding you close, squeezing your waist and dipping you slightly. Pulling back after you straighten, he rests his forehead on yours and gently brushes your noses together before leaning in for more soft, sweet kisses. “I’ve got some tulips with your name on it out in the front row,” he grins. “Foggy and Karen insisted on roses, but, I know you like tulips. Mr. Wilson at the corner florist helped me put the colors together for you.”

“How’d you know I like tulips?” you hum, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I might’ve talked to your students. They gave me some ideas.”

“Ah. Well, since I can’t kiss them as a thank you, I think I might have to give you a few more to show my full extent of gratitude.”

“Mm,” Matt happily hums, his hands moving down your body soothingly. “I’d like that. But not here. When we get back to our building. I have a feeling people are looking to congratulate you.”

“Okay,” you breathe, taking half a step back, slipping your hand in his so we can go into the audience. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“I hope you do.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 1- Return to the Falls

— — — — — — —

“Tree. Tree. Billboard. Gas station. Telephone pole. Tree. Billboar—hey, that one’s got a whale on it!”

The clink of metal to glass echoed through the nearly-empty bus as Mabel pressed her cellphone against the window. “I wonder why they always use whales as mascots for things like car washes?” she inquired. “It’s not like they can actually drive cars or anything! They’re too big to fit through the doors!”

Such a question drew an amused chuckle from the person on the other end of the phone. “I think the thought process there is, like…you use water to clean cars?” they guessed. “And whales live in the water? And then they figure everyone can make the rest of the connection from there.”

From the seat besides Mabel, Dipper looked up from his journal. “Whales are also filter-feeders,” he pointed out. “They filter their food through something called baleen plates, which kinda look like the flappy, hangy-down brushes and sponges in a car wash? Maybe that’s one reason.”

He pointed the tip of his pencil at Mabel. “Also, you know Dev can’t actually see the billboard over the phone, right? …Adding onto that, how are you getting a signal this far out in the woods?”

Mabel moved the phone from the window and pressed it tightly against her chest. “Through the power of love!”

“Yeah, well, I’m almost positive that the ‘power of love’ isn’t gonna make your phone magically grow a video screen and a high-quality internet connection.”

With a scowl, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Almost positive isn’t completely positive, Mr. Negative!”

She punctuated her remark with a raspberry, before turning her attention back to her phone. “Sorry, Dev, you know how Dipper is,” she said fondly. “The big dorkus always has to apply logic to everything.”

“He raises a good point, though,” Dev replied. “I wouldn’t’ve made the connection between baleen plates and car wash sponges on my own, so I’m glad he had all that off the top of his head.”

A laugh, before their tone grew more accusatory. “Almost as if someone’s in the middle of researching whales for a certain reason.”

Dipper shifted in his seat, his gaze suddenly and intently focused on a stain of unknown origin on the back of the seat in front of them. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“...Diiiiip, you promised we’d look into that story about those sky whales off the coast together!” Dev whined playfully. “We were gonna make a whole night of it once you guys got back, with a red yarn board and everything!”

“I swear I was going to wait!” Dipper insisted. “But, like, listen…we’re gonna be spending all summer with our great-uncles. And they’ve spent the last few months sailing around the world, hunting a bunch of cool, paranormal beings out there on the open seas.”

He pressed a hand to the back of his head. “And I thought…you know—”

“—you thought sky whales might be one of the things your uncles saw out on the ocean, and you wanted to learn as much as you could to look all cool and smart in front of them,” Dev finished for him. “Especially in front of the totally awesome, Multiverse-jumping—studier of all things weird and strange—Stanford Pines?”

A beat. “…The one you promised me you’d get an autograph from and I’m totally not using this as an excuse to remind you about that?”

This earned a laugh out of Dipper. “Subtly noted, but it’s just…they’re gonna have so many stories about the places they’ve been over the past nine months,” he elaborated. “The most exciting story I have is that Phoenix incident, and it wasn’t even a real Phoenix!”

Dev let out a groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me! Whose bright idea was it again to smuggle a chicken into Science class?”

“I guess that’s one mystery we’ll never solve,” Dipper added with a look of disgust. “But what we did learn is that burnt feathers smell like someone lighting their hair on fire in a barn.”

“No kidding, I’ll never get the smell of stale hay and dirt outta my nose.”

“This is why pigs are the superior livestock,” Mabel said, punctuating her point with an indignant harrumph. “No stinky feathers!”

Dipper nudged her with his elbow before he set his journal and pencil down on his lap. “Weren’t you complaining a month ago about how Waddles is too big to smuggle into school anymore?”

“That’s not his fault! It’s the fault of society and their inability to stop body shaming everything!” She pressed her hands, phone and all, against her cheeks. ”Especially the most adorable wittle piggy in the entire world and his fat wittle piggy tummy~!”

This earned a laugh from Dev. “They’re just jealous they can’t be him, I bet,” he agreed. “Either way, Dip, it’s no worries about the sky whales thing. Just means I’ve gotta start stocking up on new research material for when you guys get home.”

There was a light tapping sound from the other side of the phone, as if Dev were tapping the speaker with their finger. “And it means that you owe me one!” they insisted. “Which you can easily pay off by spilling all the deets about what went down up there last August!”

The twins exchanged a mirrored look. “Dev—”

“Come on, Dipping Dots, you can’t leave me hanging forever,” Dev begged. “I know it was more than just some weird weather patterns! Just…just give me a hint at least! Was it ghosts? Aliens? …Alien ghosts?”

Dipper shot his sister a look, one that she returned with an understanding nod. “Dipper, stop trying to steal my boyfriend’s attention with your nerdy-nerd talk!” she said, loud enough for Dev to hear. “I wanna get as much talking time as I can with him before we get to town!”

With a smirk, he gave her ribs another nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Dev was a part of the Paranormal/Supernatural Club before you two started going out!” he pointed out. “So technically—aha, stop!”

His words dissolved into laughter as Mabel retaliated by putting as much of her weight on him as she could. “Technically, schmechnically, you can’t do nerdy-nerd stuff with Dev if you’re flat as a pancake!” she said, her body vibrating with giggles as she smushed against him.

“Dev, help, I’m being smothered!” Dipper called to the phone, between bouts of his own laughter. “Tell Mabel she’s cute or something!”

This earned another laugh from Dev in response, one warm and full of affection. “Mabel Syrup, could you please stop trying to kill my best friend and Paranormal/Supernatural Club co-president?”

Smiling wider, Mabel straightened herself upright in the seat and held the phone in her ear. “We~ell, since you’re using that nickname, I guess I can be merciful today!”

With a dramatic gag, Dipper pointed a finger at his throat in disgust. “Ugh, I said call her cute, not break out the pet names.”

“It’s not my fault she’s as sweet as her namesake.”

“It’s not her namesake!”

“Boys, boys,” Mabel interrupted with a giggle. “As fun as it is to both flirt with my boyfriend and annoy my brother at the same time, I do think we should circle back to the point Dip made earlier about my cell reception.” 

She held the phone back up to her ear. “Since we’re almost at the Falls anyway, you wanna go ahead and hang up before the majestic oaks of Oregon do it for us?”

Dipper raised a finger. “Technically the trees around here are mostly firs and birch trees.”

“Oaks, Oregon…I wanted the words to sound all samey-samey,” Mabel pointed out. “And firs doesn’t start with an O.”

“...Neither does majestic?”

“Yeah, we can hang up for now,” Dev said. “I’m sure you guys probably wanna spend the rest of the day settling in, but if you don’t mind talking later tonight—”

“Uh, of course we can talk tonight~!” Mabel interrupted excitedly. “Not only that, I can introduce you to my Grunkles if they’re finished settling in by that point, too! And I’m sure Soos and Melody will want to say hi—ooh, and of course you can meet Candy and Grenda when we have our inevitable ‘Back In Gravity Falls’ sleepover—”

“Okay, maybe we slowly ease Dev into the weirdness that is Gravity Falls and everyone in it?” Dipper suggested. “Besides, I’d like some time to talk to them over the summer, too!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Dev said. “The first thing, not the second. Are you forgetting who sought you out to join your club in the first place? And brought his own research material to the very first meeting?”

Dipper gently pulled the phone towards him. “Are you forgetting who’s actually been to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“No, but I’m also not forgetting who’s keeping all the juicy details about what happened last summer to themselves,” Dev pointed out in return.

“Okay, okay,” Mabel said, pulling the phone back. “No more nerd talk about nerd things, you’re wasting all my minutes! Use your own minutes for that!”

She returned it to her ear with a wide grin. “But we can figure out a proper talking schedule later,” she said sweetly, then paused. “...After tonight though, because you already said we could talk and no take backs!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dev assured her. “Love you.”

“And I looooove—” Mabel wiggled her finger with a mischievous look before booping it against the screen of her phone. “—you~!”

“...Did you boop the phone?”

“Yeah-huh~!”

“Bye, Dev!” Dipper called as well. “...I know you two are having a moment, but I wanted to say bye, too!”

“Bye to both of you!” Dev replied. “Talk to you tonight!”

There was a click as the call ended and Mabel pressed the phone against her chest. “Ehehe, I love them!”

“So I’ve gathered,” Dipper said with a smile. “What’re you guys at now, seven months?”

“Seven months, and seventeen days~!” Mabel clarified, with a closing slap of her flip phone and a delighted kick of her feet. “Can you believe it? Last year I would’ve gone through at least seventy guys in that amount of time! Now look at me! Miss Lady-In-A-Serious-Relationship-With-One-Of-The-Best-Guys-In-The-World over here~!”

“You know that number’s a wild exaggeration, right?”

“You’re a wild exaggeration,” Mabel retorted, with a nudge to his shoulder. “And I like how you couldn’t even argue the ‘one of the best guys in the world’ thing, because you know it’s true! Well, he’s the best guy whenever he’s actually in guy mode, of course. Otherwise he’s just the best significant other! But right now, he’s the best guy in the world! 

With a wide grin, she snaked an arm around Dipper’s shoulder before once again smushing most of her weight against him. “Except for thiiiiis best guy in the world, of course~!” she said, words slightly muffled from how her cheek was squished against his arm. “Who knows he absolutely doesn’t count when it comes to me talking about the best guys in the world, because it already goes without saying that he’s the best guy in the world!”

She gave him a squished little smile. “He knows that, right?”

With a warm smile of his own, Dipper gently pushed her back to her side of the bus seat. “He knows that. Although ‘best guy in the world’ is starting to sound like a fake sentence.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mabel agreed with a giggle. “I used it a lot, huh?”

An oink beneath their legs turned their attention to the underside of the seat in front of them, where a fat, pink hog peered up at them with a lazy tilt of his head.

With a squeal of utter delight, Mabel reached down and scooped him up in her arms. “Aww, we can’t forget about the other best guy in the world~!” she cooed, cradling him like a baby. “Are you having fun crawling around and eating all the abandoned wrappers and gum stuck to the underside of the seats?”

Waddles let out another oink and contently buried his snout in the bend of her arm, as if he considered himself nothing more than a simple lap dog. Despite his own amusement at the sight, Dipper raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Seriously, you should probably stop letting him do that before the driver gets fed up and makes us walk the rest of the way.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mabel insisted. “This bus is probably the cleanest its ever been! If anything, the driver should be thanking Waddles for helping him out!”

After giving Waddles’ body a shake for additional emphasis, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Isn’t that right, you big, pink angel? You even missed your chance to say hi to Dev because you were too busy being the most helpful piggy around!”

“Too bad we couldn’t use him as a distraction,” Dipper said, and reached for his journal again. “You know Dev’s as crazy about him as you are.”

Mabel’s smile fell, and she tightened her embrace around Waddles’ body. “Right…”

Dipper’s hand froze less than an inch from the journal, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “The squishing me was a nice touch,” he said with a halfhearted smile of his own. “Really took his mind off the Weirdmageddon topic…”

With a sigh, he flipped it open to the page he’d been writing on and picked up his pencil. “You know, we could just ask Mayor Tyler if we can bend the rules a little bit and we can tell our buddy back home about what happened last summer.”

Mabel leaned her body back towards the window, her head hitting the glass with a light thump. “What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Who, Mayor Tyler? I mean, if we promised that Dev wouldn’t go blabbing it to other people and told him about how obsessed he is with the town, he’d probably understand—”

“Dev, Dipper,” Mabel clarified. “What if Dev doesn’t believe us?”

“Have you met the guy?” Dipper asked. “Out of anyone back home, I feel like he’d be the first one to believe us. I mean, are we forgetting that this is the same person who swears up and down that they've kissed an alien before?"

A pause. "Before following that claim up with ‘but I’d rather kiss Mabel before kissing a thousand aliens’ like the hopeless romantic he is?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mabel’s mouth, but disappeared just as quickly as it threatened to appear. “I mean, he does say that all the time. But…”

“But?”

Mabel let out an uncertain hum, but any further response was cut off by the sound of faint crackling from the bus’s loudspeaker. “Attention, passengers, we are approaching the city limits of Gravity Falls, and will be arriving within the town itself in a matter of minutes,” the driver’s voice rang out cheerfully. “Just in case anyone was interested in peering out their window as we passed by the welcome sign, for sentimental reasons.”

The twins shared a mirrored look before quickly scooting over to the window, just in time to see the familiar sign that marked the town’s border whiz past the bus.

It was a fleeting sight; one that came and went within seconds. But their silence continued for a just a bit longer after it passed, even as the endless line of trees finally began to melt into familiar homes and buildings.

Still keeping her attention fixed on the view outside, Mabel’s hand instinctively found her brother’s and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re back…”

Dipper nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “We’re back.”

They remained still, letting themselves be lost in the thrill of finally being back in that old, familiar town for just a few minutes longer, before the realization that they needed to be ready to exit the bus motivated them to finally move and start gathering up their belongings.

“Okay, since we’re now officially back in town,” Mabel began, setting Waddles aside so she could pull her bag to her lap. “What’re you looking forward to the most this summer?”

“Hmm, hard to say,” Dipper said, reaching for his own. “I mean, last year I spent most of the summer trying to uncover the mysteries behind the journal’s author, then spent the remaining time after that with the author himself!”

He unzipped the front and stuffed his journal inside. “Guess I’m just looking forward to spending more time with Grunkle Ford again, now that he doesn’t have to stay down in the basement and deal with all that Bill stuff,” he said. “I know I wanna tell him all about the stuff me and Dev have studied together, and—ooh, I really wanna introduce him to that DDnmD podcast we started listening to recently—”

“Hey, that was what I was looking forward to, too!” Mabel said delightedly. “Well, not the nerd stuff but the ‘spending time with Grunkle Ford’ stuff! You got to spend so much time with him last year, and I barely got to see him at all!”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, this year I’m determined to spend as much time with him as I possibly can! You know a guy who puts that much effort into his journals has to be a pro at scrapbooking!”

She reached into her bag and pulled something out with a wide grin, before holding it up for Dipper to see. “I even made him a personalized sweater, so he has another one to wear besides his red one!” she explained, pointing to a smiling picture of Ford on the front. “See? I knitted a happy little picture of him—” She moved her finger to the next one. “—and this one’s of the six-fingered hand that was on his journals—”

And finally her finger landed on the stitched writing at the bottom. “—and this part says ‘A-FORD-able! Not like ‘affordable’, but like ‘adorable with Ford!’’ …I was already halfway done when I remembered ‘affordable’ was already a word, so I just added that last part instead of undoing everything.”

While she stuffed the sweater back into her bag, Dipper added: “I think I’m also looking forward to just spending time with Grunkle Stan in general, too. I mean, sure, we got to spend a lot of time with him last year.”

He waved his hands. “But he was hiding such a big secret, one he had to deal with by himself. This year, he’s got nothing to hide!”

Mabel held up both pointer fingers. “Right! Because the something he had to hide is gonna be right there next to him! And the thing that was hiding no longer has to hide in any way!”

She smushed them together with silly little noises for emphasis. “And since Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are getting along now, it means we can all spend time together like one big happy family!” 

Satisfied with her own amateur pantomime, she dropped her hands and returned to her belongings. “Speaking of which, who did Grunkle Stan say was going to be greeting us at the bus stop?” she asked. “I know Soos and Grunkle Ford will be there, but I really hope Candy and Grenda can make it!”

She beamed widely. “Grenda said in her last letter that she’s been taking up wrestling, and that she learned a move that could possibly snap me in half! Although Candy discredited this claim with the fact that she only got a fractured disc when Grenda tried it on her, but you know what they say: practice makes perfect!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You guys can’t just hug each other?”

“We can hug as she’s breaking my spine in two!”

With a shrug, Dipper slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, to answer your original question; yeah, Ford and Soos are gonna be there. Other than that, I’m not sure. Your friends being there is something you’d know more than I would, and I can’t think of anyone else who would come.”

He tapped a hand to his chin as he thought hard for a moment. “I know Soos and Melody wanted to throw that welcome-back party for us tomorrow, though. So maybe they’ll only have a small group of people at the bus stop today. You know, to give us time to get settled in without being bombarded by a billion people?”

Mabel stuck out her lip and gave the seat in front of them a defiant slam with her fists. “Boooooo, I want to be bombarded by people! I wanna be able to give out at least three-dozen hugs before Grenda snaps me in half like a twig!”

“I once again ask why you guys can’t just hug each each other.”

“Bombardment!” Mabel chanted, slamming her fist in rhythm. “Bombardment!”

There was another crackle of the loudspeakers over their heads as the driver spoke again: “Attention, passengers; this is a follow-up to the previous announcement, but there might be a bit of a delay in getting you to the next stop.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a curious look, before Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth. “Why?” he called towards the front of the bus.

“Has the traffic here gotten that bad in nine months?” Mabel added.

Another crackle from the intercom. “See for yourselves, kids.”

At the driver’s suggestion, the twins scooted out of their seats and into the aisleway, remaining bags in hand and Waddles at their heels as they made their way to the front of the bus. As they came to a stop near the bus driver’s seat, their eyes grew wide at the sight that awaited them in the street below.

To the eyes of an unknown tourist, it would look like nothing more than a dozen garden gnomes stacked atop each other before a collection of golf balls spilled all over the road. 

To anyone who’d spent enough time in Gravity Falls, however—

“For the last time, Franz; either you cross the street quickly or we’re letting a car run you over.”

At the front of the collection of golfballs—or more accurately, small persons by the name of Lilliputtians who happened to strongly resemble golfballs—a blue ball crossed their arms with a sour look towards the gnome at the top of the pile. “And we’re telling you for the last time, Jeff, we’re going as fast as we can!” he argued in return. “It’s not like we can just stack ourselves on top of each other like you gnomes can!”

“You’re golf balls!” The gnome, Jeff, pointed out irritably. “You can roll!”

Franz scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh, so just because we happen to look like golf balls, you think we can roll everywhere?” he asked. “What about you gnomes, huh? Without linking up to each other, I’ll bet you couldn’t go more than a few feet without getting winded!”

Jeff crossed his own arms with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, well, you’ve never seen Shmebulock run after six nosefuls of mushroom spores.”

His point was emphasized by an enthusiastic “Shmebulock!” from one of the gnomes at the bottom of the snack.

From the bus, the twins shared a knowing look before Mabel turned to the bus driver. “You know what? You can just let us off here, we can walk the rest of the way.”

“And we’ll see what we can do about clearing the road for you,” Dipper added.

With a shrug, the driver opened the doors to the bus and the two headed down the stairs; Mabel bounded out the door and onto the sidewalk with a delighted laugh while Dipper followed behind with more reserved steps. 

Despite their different methods of stair descension, their smiles were equally bright as they looked to the smaller beings still crowded in the middle of the road. “So, what do you think’s going on?” Dipper asked.

Mabel turned back to the bus steps and reached out to grab Waddles, who had slowly and piggishly ambled down the steps after them. “Not sure, but isn’t it wild to see both groups just…out in the middle of the street like this?”

“Right?!” Dipper said with enthusiastic agreement. “It’s like—not even five minutes back in town and we’re already getting a taste of peak Gravity Falls weirdness!”

After setting Waddles down to the sidewalk, Mabel clapped her hands together with just as much gusto. “I know, isn’t it great?”

“I’m warning you for the last time, Jeff: get out of our way before we knock your bearded butts down like rolling pins!” Franz insisted firmly. “You wanna see how fast we can actually roll? Keep pushing my buttons and you’ll find out!”

The twins exchanged a look. “Right, we should probably do the thing we got off the bus early to do,” Dipper said. “Otherwise we just made getting to the shack harder for ourselves for no reason.”

“Well, at the very least you can add ‘breaking up a fight between golf ball people and gnomes’ to the list of cool stories to tell Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford,” Mabel pointed out. “I’m almost positive they haven’t had a chance to do that yet!”

Dipper let out a laugh. “Weren’t you just saying a little bit ago that almost positive isn’t completely positive?”

With a laugh of her own, Mabel pushed a lighthearted fist to his arm before turning her gaze to the groups bickering in the road. “So how are we doing this?”

A shrug. “I mean, smartest method would just be to ask them why they’re fighting.”

“Very true!” Mabel said. “And who knows? Maybe if we know why they’re fighting, we can help them work it out peacefully.”

“Or we can at least distract them long enough to get them outta the road,” Dipper pointed out. “Then if they wanna continue the fight on the sidewalk, we just start heading for the shack.”

“That is also something we can do~!” 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, boys! What’s with all the commotion and bus blocking?”

“Yeah, none of you are more than two feet tall, and you should probably get out of the road before cars realize they can just run over you,” Dipper added helpfully.

From his spot in the road, Jeff let out a scoff. “Maybe on our own, but we gnomes could always just—”

He fell silent, the delayed realization of whom he was speaking to finally settling in as he looked to Dipper and Mabel with wide eyes. And he was not the only one; the attention of both gnomes and Lilliputtians alike were now focused solely on Dipper and Mabel.

“Well, shiver me timbers, amongst other pirate-y exclamations of surprise!” One of the pirates piped up. “The Saviors of the Falls be returned to us at last!”

“The Hugelings are back!” A knight Lilliputtian added excitedly.

The rest of the group (both gnome and golfball alike) let out similar exclamations of delight, their crosswalk argument momentarily forgotten as they all hurried to the sidewalk to greet the twins. 

And once the bus driver took advantage of the cleared road to continue onwards, the commotion was enough to also draw the attention of other nearby townsfolk. Townsfolk who—Dipper and Mabel observed as they got a good look around—were not quite as human as they had been the year prior.

A fair number of them were still clearly human; Tad Strange could be seen purchasing a loaf of bread through the window of a nearby store, while the man known as the ‘Free Pizza’ guy was taking a leisurely stroll just a short distance up the road.

But there was also no mistaking the mermaid in a small, mobile tank at an outside table for the nearby bistro, pulling her attention from her waterproof phone long enough to look their way.  

Or the Abominable Bro-man stepping out of a nearby Jeep, the remaining three Bro-men still seated in the vehicle and pumping their fists in the air as they chanted his name with fraternal unity. A chant that quickly melted into the twins' names when the original Bro-man pointed them out with a look of pure, righteous elation.

And there was certainly no missing the flock of Eye-Bats resting comfortably on the nearby powerlines alongside a group of ordinary woodpeckers, or the Woodpecker-peckers that had taken up residence upon the original birds’ backs. 

While the peckers and pecker-peckers showed little interest in the kids, one Eye-Bat shifted its attention down towards them with mild curiosity, before turning to the nearest Woodpecker-pecker and shooting a burst of energy from its cornea. In a flash, the miniature bird had been transformed into solid stone, the extra weight causing the powerline to sag beneath the original—but otherwise unbothered—Woodpecker.

As more townsfolk—human and supernatural alike—also turned their attention towards the kids, Dipper cast an amused look to his sister. “You still in the mood to get bombarded by a bunch of people?”

Mabel giggled in response, and carefully picked up one of the Lilliputtians for a hug. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove, this is awesome! It’s like our own little welcome parade!”

“Well, if this isn’t a delightful delight of a sight~!”

At the sound of another voice, both turned their attention towards a thin man approaching them from further down the sidewalk. His overall demeanor was riddled with giddiness and a cartoonish banner that read ‘Mayor’ was displayed prominently across his chest. “Dipper and Mabel Pines! I was wondering when you two would finally get back to town!”

He waggled a finger at them. “And here I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow night to say hello to you kids again!”

“Hi, Mayor Tyler,” Mabel said, giving him a wave with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Lilliputtian, before using it to gesture to the rest of them. “I see someone’s been having a busy nine months~!”

Dipper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s so cool to see the gnomes and everyone else just…wandering around the town like this!”

From where the gnomes were gathered, Jeff let out a smug little chuckle. “Hear that, Franz? We got a personal shoutout and everything.”

Franz turned to glare at him. “You know he was only using you pointy-hatted jerks as an example!”

“I’ll make an example outta you, you round son of a—”

Their heated exchange from before returned in full swing as the two groups began to argue again, the Lilliputtian in Mabel’s arms leaping back down to join the fight with balled fists and a collection of gnome-targeted obscenities.

In response, Mabel’s gestured arm shifted to a pointing finger. “Oh, right, they were fighting in the middle of the street and blocked our bus.”

With a sigh, Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. "Again?"

Near his foot, a French Lilliputtian piped up with a mighty: "Sacré bleu!"— one that likely translated out to "Again!"—before he hurled his body at the nearest gnome.

While they watched this unfold, Dipper looked back to Tyler. “So is this, like…normal for them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied wearily. "They simply cannot stop butting heads no matter how I try to clear the air—oh, hold on, I worry they might start biting if I don’t do something—”

He moved towards the center of the combined groups, carefully tiptoeing between the small golf balls with an ease that implied he had done this countless times before, and came to a stop near both Franz and Jeff. “Now, boys, you know we’ve talked about this no less than a week ago!”

Franz pointed a finger at Jeff, eyebrows furrowed. “He was trying to rush us again—”

“—and I was pointing out how, again, they can just roll across the crosswalk!” Jeff argued in retaliation. “I just don’t understand how they’ve got the ability to move that fast, but then get mad at people for pointing out they have it!”

Franz shook a fist at him. “Oh, I’ll show you fast, with how fast I can ram my hand up your—”

“Okay, gentleman,” Tyler interrupted quickly, and took a knee so he could be closer to them. “Jeff, you know what I’ve said about antagonizing the Lilliputtians. If you and your boys can’t play nice, I might have to resort to—well, looking elsewhere for a crossing guard!”

“Wh—aw, come on!” Jeff protested. “That’ll be the fifth job we’ve lost in a month! Do you know how hard it is to nab the attention of a potential queen if we go back to being a bunch of unemployed chumps?”

Franz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s not the lack of a job they hate about you.”

“Why, you little—”

Jeff launched his entire body at Franz as the two of them began to squabble again, and Tyler reached out to grab them both by the back of their shirts. “Hey, come on now! I’m a fan of a good fight as much as the next guy, but you’re setting a bad example in front of our special guests—”

This earned a shrug from the twins. “I mean, we really don’t care,” Dipper said.

“One of them tried to kill us, the other tried to marry me,” Mabel added. “We’ve kinda already seen both of them at their worst already.”

“Need some help?”

A familiar voice from behind—followed by a massive shadow enveloping both of them in shade—turned both twins around, only for them to be greeted by the sight of a tall Manotaur towering high above them. But what really grabbed their attention was the teenager seated on his left shoulder, smile wide as she hopped down to the sidewalk in front of them. 

Her hair was much shorter than the last time they had seen her, just barely peeking out from beneath the faded hat that she had swapped with Dipper for her own. And her original green flannel shirt had been exchanged for an unbuttoned red one over a white tank top. 

Despite the differences in her appearance, however, there was no mistaking who she was—and her old hiking boots had barely touched the pavement before the twins rushed to embrace her in a joint hug. “Wendy!”

With a laugh, Wendy slunk an arm around each of their shoulders to hug them in return. “And here I thought you squirts would beat me up to the Shack,” she said, moving her hands to playfully noogie the tops of their heads. “What’re you doing all the way down here?”

Mabel gestured to the small crowd before them. “Well, our bus had to stop because—”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy interrupted with a sigh, before looking over to Tyler. “Are they fighting again?”

From where he stood—desperately holding the two leaders at arm’s length to prevent more blood from being drawn—Tyler’s expression melted into a look of relief. “Wendy! Thank goodness you’re here!” he said. “Uh, would you and Chutzpar mind—”

She crossed her arms with a miffed look. “You know, people are going to think it’s unprofessional that the mayor has to keep getting help from outside sources to solve the town’s issues—”

“Wendy, please?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, and looked up towards the Manotaur beside her. “Whaddaya think, Big Guy?”

“Many months ago, I would’ve encouraged the idea of using violence to solve one’s problems,” Chutzpar said stoically. “And I still would, were it not an inconvenience to Mayor Tyler.”

He held up a finger. “Punching out your feelings is not inherently a bad way to solve some issues, but there is a time and place for it,” he continued. “And right in the middle of town where people are looking to enjoy their day isn’t the right time nor the right place! So KNOCK IT OFF or I’ll knock YOU OFF!”

He punctuated the last sentence with a warning stomp of his left hoof, one strong enough to rumble the sidewalk beneath everyone’s feet. And once he was finished, he looked to Wendy hopefully—as if he were expecting her to praise him for his answer—and she gave an approving nod before looking to the crowd: “You guys chill now, or does he need to do that again?”

Thankfully the fighting had immediately ceased at Chutzpar’s warning stomp, both gnome and Lilliputtians alike trembling in shock. “H-hey, that’s a really rude way to get someone to stop doing something, you know!” Franz said irritably.

“Yeah,” Jeff piped up in agreement. “You can’t just use your Manotaur buddy to push us around like that!”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll stop fighting when Tyler asks you to stop first,” Wendy said. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You guys are actually agreeing on something and have chilled out a little bit, right?”

Franz and Jeff exchanged a skeptical look, before they both turned away in disgust with halfhearted mutters of “I guess so.” and “Whatever.” in unison.

“Guys...”

Jeff crossed his arms. “Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter how long they take to get across the street," he said defeatedly. "Besides, the longer we man the cross work, the more chances we get to snag attention from potential queen candidates."

“And I guess we could speed up a bit when we walk,” Franz added. “We’ll probably have to now, if we wanna make it to the sticker store and back to the golf course before our lunch break is over.”

Tyler clasped his hands together. “There, you see? Problem-solving!” he said delightedly. “Now, let’s clear off the sidewalk and give Dipper and Mabel some breathing room, okay?”

With only a small handful of grumbling, the gnomes and Lilliputtians shuffled back towards the crosswalk. Once they had properly dispersed, Tyler stood up to full height again and clasped his hands together. “Thank you so much, Wendy, you are an angel in lumberjack’s clothing~!”

Wendy crossed her arms again, expression souring at his compliment. “I meant what I said; you’ve really gotta get a handle on doing stuff like this by yourself,” he said. “The town’s not gonna take a guy who can’t even break up a fight between some gnomes and sentient golf balls seriously.”

Tyler chuckled nervously and once again pressed a hand to his forehead. “Well, regardless, your help is always appreciated!” he said, with a look to Chutzpar. “And thank you once again for all your help, big fella. I’m actually glad I caught you, I was actually on my way over to the lumbermill to discuss Thursday’s plans with Dan—”

This earned him an annoyed scoff from Wendy, while Chutzpar simply nodded. “Yes, that is the reason we were on our way to see you—”

“I was on my way to the Mystery Shack.”

“—why we were on our way to see you, before we made our way to the Mystery Shack,” Chutzpar continued, paying no mind to Wendy’s interruption. “I come with a message from him. And a gift.”

He looked to Wendy, who gave him a nod far more halfhearted than his own, before he held out the small object he had been carrying in one of his mighty fists. 

It was a small, wood-carved animal (a bear to be specific), and it was clear that every notch in the wood had been carefully sculpted with care. A care that Tyler recognized with a look that was far less whimsical than his usual demeanor, and more of a genuine tenderness as he took the carving in his hand. “Oh, that darn man really knows how to spoil me rotten, doesn’t he?”

His smile widened as he looked back to Chutzpar. “You said he also had a message for me?”

Chutzpar nodded and reached into his pocket for a small stack of index cards. After taking a moment to shuffle them, he cleared his throat and began to read: “‘I am looking forward to Thursday. I was wondering if you would wear the panther shirt to dinner that I bought you in that two-for-one special. Panthers are powerful, and could tear a puma to—”

He casually flipped to the next index card, before gripping the entire stack tightly with both hands and ripping it in half a powerful yell of: ”—SHREDS!!!!’”

He held his stance for a moment, before slipping back into a more relaxed pose. “He specifically requested that I rip them up when I said ‘shreds’,” he explained. “It was an opportunity to be needlessly loud and violent in a healthy fashion, so I was in full support of the idea.”

“Aww, a show of force and a clever pun?” Tyler said, pressing his hands to his flushed face. “He really does know what I like~!”

He gave Chutzpar a wink. “Well, you be sure to tell Dan that I will certainly be wearing the panther shirt on Thursday!”

“Super,” Wendy said, her tone deadpan. “Can we go to the Shack now?”

“Of course, sorry for holding you up,” Tyler said with a laugh. “I suppose I should be getting back to work as well. This town’s not gonna mayor itself, after all~!”

“It might if you don’t learn how to break up fights without help,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

Tyler gave the group a little wave with the hand that held the wood carving. “Oh, and welcome back to town, Dipper and Mabel~! Can’t wait for the party tomorrow!”

With that, he turned and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the group, leaving Wendy to turn her attention to the twins. “So, you guys need a second to unpack everything that just happened, or are we good to continue on to the Shack?”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, before Dipper took the initiative: “Yeah, so I have about a dozen questions—”

“What are the gnomes and Lilliputtians and all the other creatures doing walking around town?” Mabel interrupted quickly, with a wide gesture of her arms. “What’re you doing with a Manotaur? And why’s he giving Mayor Tyler gifts from your dad?!”

Dipper pointed to his sister. “Actually yeah, she covered pretty much all the questions I had,” he said, turning his full attention to her. “Except for the last part, because I feel like that’s pretty obvious, Mabel.”

Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Duh-doy, I know it’s obvious. I just want to know when it started being a thing,” she explained. “I don’t remember hearing about it in any of the letters we got.”

Wendy made a face. “Yeah, it’s…kinda new.”

“They have been dating for four months,” Chutzpar pointed out.

“It’s new,” Wendy said flatly, before giving a shrug to the twins. “Anyway, the other stuff’s pretty easy to answer. Wanna swap stories as we head to the shack?”

“Yeah!” they answered in unison, before Dipper looked further up the road. “Kinda wish we’d asked the bus driver to stick around, though. The walk to the shack from here’s going to take forever.”

Wendy looked up at Chutzpar with a smirk, and he nodded knowingly in return. “Sounds like the two of you require a ride.”

Before either twin could question what he meant by ‘ride’, they suddenly found themselves being scooped up from the sidewalk and settled onto his muscular shoulders.

Wendy watched with a smile as they adjusted themselves. “You two chill up there?”

From the left shoulder, Dipper gave a thumbs up. “All good!”

Doubling over in a fit of giggles, Mabel reached over and grabbed hold of Chutzpar’s horn to steady herself. “Oh, this is way better than taking the bus~!”

Wendy let her gaze fall to the sidewalk below, where Waddles was staring up expectantly. “And while he’s got you, I’ll get—”

She bent down to pick him up, lifting him with just as little issue as his owner, and adjusted him until he was situated comfortably in her arms. “Woah, buddy, you feel a lot heavier than fifteen pounds this year!”

“I’ve fed him only the finest of leftover table scraps,” Mabel said proudly.

“And he used to sneak into my junk food stash at least once a week before I found a way to stop him,” Dipper said, giving Waddles a pointed look.

Waddles gave him a proud snort in response as Wendy took another quick glance at the sidewalk again. “Alright, no bags or any other random pets that you might’ve picked up since last year?”

“Bags are in our arms,” Dipper said, giving his a pat for good measure.

“And sadly no,” Mabel added in a solemn tone. “Mom said owning Waddles is like owning three pets in one. She says it as a compliment, because that just means he’s three times as lovable. But like we said before, he also just eats about as much as three animals so she don’t see any reason to get a fourth.”

This earned another proud snort from Waddles and a laugh from Wendy. “Sounds like an okay to begin walking, then.”

Chutzpar nodded, the sidewalk rumbling with every thunderous step he took as the group began their trek towards the winding trail on the edge of town.

— — — — — — —

“Mr. Pines, there’s no need to be so nervous.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?”

From beside Soos, Grenda raised her hand. “The fact that you’re pacing in a circle so much, you’re practically digging a new bottomless pit with your feet?”

Candy turned to her, eyes bright with inspiration. “Ooh, if there are two of them, maybe they could be advertised as twin bottomless pits!” she said, holding up a finger on each hand. “Twin pits for twin pairs—“

She brought her fingers together with a smile. “—of twin Pines!”

Grenda let out a loud cackle, and gave her shoulder a hearty slap. “God, Candy, save some of that genius for when Mabel gets here!”

While Candy rubbed her now-sore shoulder with a wince, Soos gave the two of them a thumbs-up. “But I’m adding that to the list of attraction ideas when we get back to the shack. It’s a good one, dude.”

Stan looked down at the thin dent in the gravel that he’d worn down with his shoes, and crossed his arms with a gruff sigh. A sigh that was interrupted by the familiar sensation of a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

His mouth curled into a smile as he locked eyes with the hand's owner, a near-identical set of features to his own staring back at him. “They raise a good point, Stanley,” Ford said. “Mostly about the nervousness, not the second bottomless pit idea.”

At that, he gave the girls a thumbs up. “But that is some impeccable wordplay, Candy!”

“My name gives me plenty of chances to make puns in everyday conversation,” Candy informed him with a smile. “It’s second nature to me at this point~!”

Stan tsked at that, although his smile didn’t disappear. “And who’s to say that pit-idea of theirs ain’t exactly what I’m doing?” he said. “Building some kinda new, twin-themed shack attraction with my feet?”

Candy held up another finger. “Shack-traction!”

“I said, stop! You’re gonna use up all the good ones!”

While the girls chattered on, Ford turned his gaze from them to Soos. “Actually, Soos, don’t you and the girls want to go, uh—” A pause. “—discuss that second bottomless pit idea further?”

Grenda ceased her attempt to give Candy a noogie of approval, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? He already said we’d—”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Pines!” Soos interrupted quickly, taking each of the girls’ hands in his own. “I’ll keep ‘em busy!”

Ford gave him an appreciative nod, one that Soos returned with a smile as he lead them away; not too far from the bus stop, but far enough to give the older men some space.

Once the three of them were at a distance that would make eavesdropping impossible, Stan playfully nudged his brother’s arm. “Real subtle there, Poindexter.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ford said, as he turned back around to face him. “And even if I was, it’d be a lot more convincing than you’re trying to be about not being nervous.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m the King of Subtlety! Or are you forgetting the New Jersey Lil' Wise Guy Subtlety Competition of 1956, where I took first place?”

“It was 1957,” Ford corrected him. “And I distinctly remember you quite literally taking the first place medal and attempting to pawn it off to one of the customers in the shop. Which failed, because you were three.”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “Was it? Could’ve sworn it was—” With a huff, he waved it away. “Whatever, so maybe I’m a little nervous about seeing my great-niece and nephew again for the first time in nine months,” he said with a halfhearted shrug. “So what?”

“As I’m sure we’ve discussed at least two dozen times on the ride back to town—”

“Three dozen.”

“—there’s no reason to be nervous about seeing Dipper and Mabel again,” Ford finished. “If all the letters they sent to the Mystery Shack are anything to go off, they’re just as excited to see us as we are them.”

Stan waved his hand again, this time with the addition of a scoff. “Oh, I’m not worried about all that,” he explained. “I know the kids love us, and I know as soon as they step off that bus, I’m gonna put on the tough-as-nails, no-nonsense Grunkle act and pretend I wouldn’t erase my own mind for ‘em again if they needed me to—”

“Don’t joke about that.”

A shared look of somberness crossed their faces for a brief instant, before Stan’s gaze fell to the ground again. “It ain’t us I’m worried about,” he repeated. “They headed outta this place only a week after we barely managed to save it from going to heck in a handbasket. Barely managed to save them…”

His gaze returned to Ford. “Just don’t want them comin’ back to a whole boatload of new things to be worried about, you know?”

The hand on Stan’s shoulder moved to Ford’s own hair, which he pushed back with a tired sigh. “Don’t I know it. I’ve had this pit in my stomach for about two weeks now, both from the excitement of getting to spend the full summer with my great-niece and nephew and—”

He paused, before letting his hand fall back to his side with a weak laugh. “Well, I guess it was inevitable that our return to town would be accompanied by some…complicated emotions.”

Forgetting his own nerves for a moment, Stan’s attention immediately snapped to his brother. The shift in Ford’s features was subtle, as it always was whenever the topic of Bill came up in passing. But the pain behind Ford’s eyes, a pain that held the weight of the past thirty-plus years, and the way his entire body tensed from the memories that Stan could only assume made up that weight—

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh. “Psh, listen to me gettin’ all worked up over the kids, when I should’ve been asking if you were alright.”

Ford looked to him, eyebrow raised. “Wh—no, that’s not the point. The point is—”

He was cut off by Stan slinging an arm around his shoulders, his knees buckling slightly from the extra weight. “The point is we’re both stressed,” Stan said. “And if we’re both stressed, then the kids are gonna end up stressed as well and that’ll just have the opposite effect of what we want. Like that law. You know, from that one guy?”

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers thoughtfully as he racked his brain for the answer. “Somethin’, somethin’, every action’s got a reaction and it’s opposite?”

An amused smile spread across Ford’s face. “Are you referring to Sir Isaac Newton and his laws of motion?” he asked. “Those laws by that world-renowned philosopher?”

“Hey, you’re the one that finished high school, Smart Guy, you tell me!”

Satisfied with his answer, he shifted the arm around Ford’s shoulder to pull him into a proper headlock. Ford attempted to slink out from beneath his brother’s embrace with a laugh, but unfortunately the past forty years had done little to weaken Stan’s technique and kept him locked as firmly in place as it had during their childhood.

On the other hand, three decades of wandering the Multiverse had provided Ford with a few defensive maneuvers of his own. Combined with spending the past nine months on a fishing boat together, it had taken little time for him to readapt to his brother’s attempts at rough-housing—

His gaze fell to Stan’s exposed ribs, to which he delivered a light—yet firm—jab with his elbow.

—and even less time for him to find the most effective methods of countering them.

Sure enough, Stan released him with a surprised yelp, one that melted into a fit of rough laughter as Ford effortlessly slipped out of his grasp. “Cheap shot.”

“I believe you’re the last person to talk when it comes to fighting dirty, Stanley,” Ford replied with a smug grin.

“Oh, I’ll show ya dirty—”

The laughter doubled as the two of them spent another moment attempting to one-up the other in lighthearted fisticuffs, until the distant, rumbling sound of tires against asphalt pulled them back to reality. And if the sight of the approaching bus alone hadn’t been enough, Grenda’s boisterous cry of “THE BUS IS COMING!” as the rest of the group hurried back to rejoin them would’ve done the trick.

As they straightened themselves out again in preparation to greet the kids, the brothers exchanged another look. One that clearly displayed their shared nervousness that even rough-housing hadn’t completely eliminated.

It was Stan who broke the awkward silence first, mouth curling into a halfhearted smile. “Guess we’d better give that Newton chump a call, huh?”

Ford managed a weak smile in return. “You realize you’ve wildly misinterpreted the laws of motion and their relation to the situation at hand, don’t you?”

“And you realize you’re a giant nerd, right?” Stan countered.

“Well, regardless of misinterpretation, you do raise a good point,” Ford said. “If we’re both stressed, then the kids are bound to pick up on it and get stressed in turn.”

He inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower. “It’s a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over.”

“You know it,” Stan said, lightly touching his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “And hey, uh—that doesn’t stop at summer. We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

They exchanged a look, silently lingering in their shared understanding for a moment before Ford spoke again: “You’re right, Stanley. We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

The two remained still for a moment more, before Stan reached over to give him a nudge. “And y’know, if that doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure I saw some kinda zombie-summoning spell in one of those nerd books of yours.” 

He crossed his arms. “I know we chucked them down into the Bottomless Pit, but I also know for a fact that you’ve got one’a’those smart-guy photographic-memories and could probably recite it off the top of your head.”

“Are you suggesting I use necromancy to summon Sir Isaac Newton?” Ford asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “To prove his first law that you seem insistent on misinterpreting?”

“I mean, I ain’t telling you to give him a kiss on the cheek or nothin’,” Stan said.

Their smiles widened in amused unison as the bus finally slowed to a stop, the creaking of the brakes echoing loudly through the forest around them. Almost as if they were announcing the long-awaited arrival of the teenagers on board to anything within earshot.

And as the group watched, the older adults with tense shoulders while Soos and the girls all leaned into each other with excited anticipation, the doors of the bus slid open to reveal—

“Are you all looking to get on?”

—nothing more than the bus driver.

Candy blinked in confusion. “Have Dipper and Mabel turned invisible since we last saw then?”

Stan’s brow furrowed, balling one hand into a warning fist as he stared at the driver. “Yeah, pal, what gives?! Where’s our kids?”

“The ones from earlier?” the driver asked. “Oh, they got off somewhere in town. There were a buncha golfballs and gnomes in the road, said they’d take care of it and for me to just go on ahead without ‘em.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. "Good kids, though! The bus floor's practically sparkling thanks to that pet pig of theirs!"

“Did they tell you if they were going to walk the rest of the way or not?” Ford asked.

“I believe that’s what they said,” the driver said. “But seriously, is no one here going to get on?”

A varying chorus of ‘No’s earned the group a closed door, before the bus continued onwards down the road. After it eventually descended down a hill and out of sight, Grenda’s shoulders fell. “Aw, man! I was gonna pile drive Mabel into the ground as soon as she got off the bus! Now our whole ‘Welcome Back To The Falls’ greeting is ruined!”

Candy patted her arm sympathetically. “I am sure she would’ve appreciated the effort regardless.”

“Of course she would!” Grenda lamented, her loud voice booming through the nearby wood. “She’s an angel who appreciates when we go the extra mile!”

“Back in town for five minutes and they’re already getting caught up in some kind of weird shenanigans,” Ford said, swelling with pride. “They’re a couple of Pines, alright.”

Stan slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down the rest of his face. “Yeah, a pair from your side of the family, maybe.” 

It was said in exasperation, but there was an undeniable fondness in his tone. One that transferred to his expression as he turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, on one hand: the kids know the way to the Shack like the backs of their own hands and they’ll probably get here just fine on foot,” he pointed out. “On the other—”

“Getting here could take a while and none of us want to wait that long to see them again, so we go and meet them halfway?” Soos guessed.

“You got it.”

From beside his brother, Ford shot a glance down the road from whence the bus had came. “Looks like halfway might be closer than we think.”

He pointed a finger for emphasis, and the rest of the group followed his gesture to the sight of an approaching Manotaur coming up the road. One that was delightfully conversing with the two thirteen-year-olds seated on each of his shoulders, and the sixteen-year-old walking beside him.

A conversation that had been clearly happening since the four of them had been back in town, Dipper and Mabel’s attention fully fixed on Wendy as she continued to speak: “—and after everyone teamed up during Weirdmageddon, the vibes of the town just kinda shifted. As if a lot of the weird stuff in town suddenly realized: ‘Hey, we’re not much of a mystery anymore so there’s not really a reason to keep hiding’, and the people in town realized they weren’t as weird and terrifying as they originally thought.”

She pressed a finger to her temple. “Combine that with the Society of the Blind Eye going belly up and leaving no one around to go blasting memories out of people’s heads—” Then pressed her hands together and laced her fingers for emphasis. “—everyone and everything just kinda started mushing together over time.”

“Manly Dan caught news of us Manotaurs when we were forced to relocate our Man Cave,” Chutzpar added. “Impressed by our manliness and feats of strength, he offered us jobs in his lumberyard. We told him we’d only accept if the toughest combatants from his family defeated us in battle.”

“And you guys lost to him?” Mabel guessed.

“Not to him.”

Chutzpar cast a gaze down at Wendy, and the twins followed suit in the hopes of further elaboration. “Originally, it was just going to be Dad and my brothers in the fight,” she explained. “Not because Dad didn’t think to ask me; I was at work at the time and happened to come home just as all of them were getting their butts handed to ‘em on a silver platter.”

“It was a mighty battle of strength and determination,” Chutzpar said in a faraway tone. “They fought well, even if their efforts were inevitably in vain.”

“Nearly in vain,” Wendy corrected. “But then I showed up and volunteered to finish the fight.”

“And they let you?”

“Of course not, the big meatheads all laughed at the idea of fighting a girl. But then I punched one of ‘em in the gut, and suplexed another into the ground, where he got stuck by his horns.”

This got a laugh out of her. “Taking down the rest wasn’t too hard, since Dad and the others had already worn most of 'em down. But even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been difficult. Their fighting style was all punch, no technique. Even an amateur could’ve taken all of them down with a few well-placed hits.”

She shrugged with amusement. “That was also why Dad wasn’t able to win against them; he fights the exact same way. It was just lunkhead against lunkhead out there, swinging fists wildly until at least one of ‘em hit something. And unfortunately for my lunkheaded family, they didn’t have as many fists as the Manotaurs to keep swinging around. Until I showed up, at least.”

While the twins giggled at the visual image, Chutzpar gave a stoic nod. “The Manotaurs lost the battle that day, but it was a loss we hold with pride,” he said, with a shift of the arm that held Dipper. “One that taught us that—between her and the things you taught us last year, Destructor—we have plenty to learn about what it means to be men.”

He gave his chest a hearty thump. “And that sometimes that manliest men among us are actually girls!”

Dipper raised a mildly-confused eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “Eh, they’re still a little confused but it’s better than where they were last year,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Not to mention being called the Manliest Man in Gravity Falls kinda hits in a way I’m not complaining about—”

“Kids!”

At the sound of another voice hailing them from further ahead, Dipper and Mabel turned their gazes forward to see their welcome party hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. Grenda and Candy were bringing up the rear with Soos, while Ford was keeping a steady pace in the middle. 

But at the very front of the group, Stan was charging towards them with a speed and passion that couldn’t be matched by anyone else.

Except perhaps by Mabel, who had quickly jumped down from Chutzpar’s shoulder at the sound of his voice and began to sprint towards her great-uncle at Mach speed. “Grunkle Stan!”

It was a miracle that the two of them remained standing, with how hard they crashed into one another in a bone-crushing embrace; Mabel linking her arms around Stan’s neck like a spider monkey while he spun her around with a hearty belly laugh. 

Only for that miracle to shatter when the embrace of two became three as Dipper caught up to them, and all of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of laughter. “What, are you kids tryna kill me before we even get to the Shack?” Stan asked, slinging an arm around Dipper’s body. “I don’t remember the two’a’you being this big last year.”

Mabel let out a little giggle and pressed her hands to his face. “Yeah, well, you weren’t this hairy last year!” she pointed out in return. “I mean you were still really hairy, but now you’ve got a full-grown beard!”

“Sure do!” Stan said brightly, and patted the hair covering his chin. “Ol’ Poindexter and I made a decision early on that if we were spendin’ our days as men of the sea, then we were sure as heck gonna look the part!”

Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You sound like Dipper at Hanukkah! He was soooooo excited to show Grandpa Shermie his beard~!”

The last word was said with clear amusement, and Dipper shrank a bit before slapping his hands over his face. “Mabel, come on, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, didja grow one too?” Stan asked, peering at him. “Come on, Slick, let’s see those Pines genetics at work.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dipper nervously lowered his hands and Stan leaned closer to examine the few, noticeable hairs on his chin. “I know it’s not much,” Dipper explained quickly. “But it’s more than I had last year! A-and Mom says that I’m bound to get more as I get older!”

With a proud laugh, Stan reached up to ruffle his hat. “You kidding? That’s more than I had at that age!” he said. “You be proud of those few hairs, and don’t let your sister steal ‘em for her scrapbook.”

“Too late,” Mabel said brightly. “I stole both one from the chin and one from the shin~! He has some there, too!”

Dipper gave her a pointed look, before turning back to Stan with a more confident smile. “I’d be more annoyed at her for that if she wasn’t right,” he said, and held up his leg. “Because look, I got so much on my legs, too!”

“Woa-hoh, get a load of Mister Big Man over here!” Stan said, and brought him closer for a noogie. “Those genetics really are kickin’ in early for you, huh?”

“He’s not the only one they’ve kicked in for,” Mabel added. “Or should I say—”

She kicked out one of her own legs with a cheeky grin. “—kicked~!”

There was a moment of pause, before she gave her leg another wiggle. “You get it because—”

“Mabel also got leg hair,” Dipper clarified. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“I tried shaving it at first, but it just made my legs soooooo itchy,” Mabel said. "So now I just have built-in leg warmers!”

“I’d suggest the fire method, but it’s far more effective at removing facial hair than body hair,” a voice behind them said. “Also something tells me that your parents wouldn’t be too happy if we sent you back home with burns on your legs.”

The trio looked up to see Ford standing before them, a hand outstretched. “Room in the dirt for one more?”

A series of grins were exchanged before three hands reached for Ford’s in unison and pulled him down to the ground with them. “It’s good to see you again, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper said. 

“Especially since we actually know you exist now!” Mabel added. “This time last year, we still thought Grunkle Stan was you! And then when we did find out that you were you and he was him, we only got to spend a little bit of time with you!”

Her arms moved from around Stan’s neck to Ford's, her spider-monkey grip once again unbreakable as she hugged him tight. “But this year, we get to spend aaaaallllllll summer with both our Grunkles!”

Ford’s smile widened and he slinked an arm around her as Stan piped up with: “That’s right, Pumpkin! No more mysteries or weird demons or monsters or anything that’s gonna get in the way of me spendin’ time with you kids and my brother!”

“Well, I mean, a monster here and there’s not a bad thing—” Ford begin, just as Dipper finished with a: “I wouldn’t mind a mystery or two, honestly.”

The four of them doubled over in laughter as the remaining party from both directions finally caught up to them. “Aww, you guys are having a cuddle pile in the dirt without us?” Grenda piped up unhappily.

“Candy adds a dash of sweetness to every cuddle pile!” Candy added.

“Or did the squirts knock you down ‘cause you’re older than the dirt you’re sitting in?” Wendy chimed in, as her and Chutzpar also came to a stop.

“Watch it, Corduroy,” Stan said, pulling his arm out from around Dipper so he could point a finger at her. “Just ‘cause I’m not your boss anymore doesn’t mean I can’t ask Soos to fire you.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow in Soos’ direction. “Would you fire me if he asked?”

“Uh…” Soos shifted uncomfortably in place. “Do I really have to answer that?”

This got a disbelieving “Wow.” out of Wendy and a delighted cackle out of Stan, one that was cut short by a grunt of pain as he shifted in place. “Ow, maybe we should get up outta all this dirt and gravel,” he muttered. “I got rocks in place I don’t wanna mention in front of a bunch of impressionable teenagers, my brother, or Soos.”

Soos offered him a hand. “Maybe we can move the cuddle pile to the Shack, then? Then Melody can join us!”

With a look of disgust, Stan took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Pass. Last thing any of us needs is for you two to start making kissy faces at each other.”

“Keep that in mind,” Wendy muttered with a grin.

“Soos does raise an excellent point about making our way the Shack,” Ford said. “The sooner the kids get settled in, the sooner we can exchange stories.”

He emphasized the last word with a knowing look to his brother, and Stan’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he offered his own hands to the kids. “Hey, yeah! You squirts wanna hear about the time your Grunkles tore the head off a Kraken along the coast of Texas?” he asked with a wink. “‘Cause lemme tell ya: when they say everything’s bigger down there, they mean everything!”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a unanimous “Yeah!” as they were also pulled to their feet—

“Nope! I said I was giving Mabel a proper ‘Welcome Back’ pile drive, and I’m gonna do it!”

—and Mabel was immediately brought back down to the tampered dirt path by a charging Grenda, any pain from the impact momentarily drowned in a fit of giggles as she hugged her friend. “Oh, it’s just as spine-shattering as I hoped it’d be!”

“Don’t forget Candy, for a dash of sweetness!” Candy piped up, as she flopped over the other two with a laugh. “I made that pun already, but it was so nice, I had to say it twice!”

“Agreed, it was hilarious!” Mabel agreed, arms going around both of them in a tight embrace. “Ugh, I missed you girls sooooo much! I’ve got loads to tell you since my last letter—ooh, also I’ve got a phone now!”

While Mabel attempted to fish her phone out of her pocket, Wendy cast a smirk to the adults. “Anyone wanna bet that we won’t get to the Shack until nightfall?”

Chutzpar looked down at her. “I respect a show of friendly violence, but should I intervene again?

“You know you don’t have to listen to me,” Wendy said, folding her arms. “I’m not, like, actually in charge of you guys or anything.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t take any bets I know I’ll lose,” Stan said, and snapped his fingers at the girls. “Hey, come on, I know we’re all excited to be seein’ each other again.”

He pointed a finger at Grenda, which shifted between her and Candy. “But I already told you two that I need at least one night without wondering if a family of bats moved into my attic, or if you girls are tryin’ to break the sound barrier with your squeals.”

“Seconding that,” Dipper piped up quickly. “I would also like a buffer between now and the inability to sleep in my own room, please.”

The girls let out a disappointed chorus of ‘Awwwww’s as they untangled themselves and returned to their feet. “But Grunkle Staaaaan, I missed my people!” Mabel argued.

“And her people missed her!” Grenda added, squeezing her close.

“Never said you couldn’t hang out with ‘em after tonight,” Stan pointed out. “Plus there’s that party tomorrow—”

“Oh, yeah!” Grenda said excitedly. “We can catch up at the party!”

“We can catch up on stories while we tear up the dance floor!” Candy added with an excited wiggle, before she raised her fists to the air. “And remind this town who the real party animals are!”

She let her arms fall again. “Plus my parents said that I needed to come home after we said hi to you, anyway,” she explained further, then added as an afterthought: “Hi, Mabel!”

With a giggle, Mabel replied: “Hi, Candy!”

“And I got my pile drive in, so I guess I did everything I wanted to do today,” Grenda added with a shrug.

While Stan leaned close to Ford with a quiet: “I’d point out that it was more of a tackle than a pile drive, but also I don’t wanna be out here longer than we hafta be.” (earning a “Smart call.” from Ford in return), Mabel tightened her grip around the other girls. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait another day to hang out with my beeeeest friends in the whoooolllllle world~!”

Candy’s gaze moved over to Wendy and Chutzpar. “By the way, we saw that Dipper and Mabel got a Manotaur ride up here,” she said. “Is there an option to catch a Manotaur ride back to town?”

“Ooh, me too! Me too!” Grenda added. “Wendy, make him give us a ride!”

“Once again, I’m not in charge of the Manotaurs,” Wendy pointed out, with another look to Chutzpar. “It’s up to you, pal. You offering rides back to town?”

Chutzpar held out both hands for them to take. “Small girls who greet their friends with violent pile drivers are worthy of a ride,” he said, before raising an eyebrow at Wendy. “But will you be alright getting home?”

“I can always hitch a ride from someone,” Wendy assured him. “Or—”

She reached into her pocket for her phone, and glanced at the screen for a moment. “—yeah, or I can just spend the night at the Shack if I really need to.”

“Aw, what?” Grenda said unhappily from Chutzpar’s shoulder. “How come you get to spend the night and we don’t?”

“Good-bye, girls,” Stan said, and gave Wendy a pointed stare. “Tell the big guy to go.”

“I’m not—” Wendy started to say, then shrugged it off and gave Chutzpar a wave of her hand. “Go ahead.”

Chutzpar gave her a nod in return, and turned back towards the direction of the town. “Let’s make haste, small female children,” he said, and began to walk. ”I have a response from Mayor Tyler to deliver to Manly Dan about their Thursday plans.”

“We are teenagers now, you know,” Grenda pointed out with a mild huff of indignance. “Or at least I am.”

“Ooh, is the response a loooove message~?” Candy added delightedly. “Are the plans a date?”

“Oh, you know it—!”

Chutzpar’s voice echoed through the wood with amusement, the volume only matched in power by Grenda’s laughter as the trio drew further and further away from those who had stayed behind. Eventually though, even their powerful baritones could not be carried such a distance, and the forest around the group fell silent again.

Silent, until—

“So, we’re not gonna question the big man-cow thing?” Stan asked. “We’re just acting like he’s been here the entire time, then?”

Ford shrugged in response. “He was clearly a Manotaur, and one that seemed to be on good terms with Wendy and the kids,” he said. “Didn’t see any reason to question his presence.”

“He’s visited the Shack several times,” Soos chimed in as well. “Also he was staying with us in the Shack during Weirdmageddon.”

“Did he?” Stan said. “Huh, feel like I should remember that.”

“I also met him and the rest of the herd last year,” Dipper added, just as Mabel chimed in with her own: “The Manotaurs work for Wendy now, and also Manly Dan is dating Mayor Tyler!”

Wendy made a twirling motion with her finger. “What they all said, minus the ‘working for me’ thing. They’re part of my dad’s logging crew now, and even if they listen to me when I ask them to do stuff, I don’t want anything to get weird with that.”

“And the part about your dad and Mayor Tyler?” Stan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Wendy’s expression shifted for half a second, before her usual, disinterested grin took its place. “Hey, here’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say: let’s stop standing around and doing nothing, and get to the Shack so I’m not late for my shift!”

Soos raised a hand. “Uh, but Wendy, I’m your boss and it’s your day off—”

“Race you knuckleheads there~!”

Wendy took off like a shot before Soos could finish his point, taking great care to lightly plap a hand against the heads of the younger twins and deliver a loving fist to the arms of the adults as she zipped between them and ran towards the direction of the Mystery Shack.

With a laugh, the younger twins sprinted after her in a rush with cries of: “Wait for us!” and “How are you running that fast with a pig in your arms?”

The adults watched them go for a moment, before Soos turned to the Stans: “...We don’t actually have to run all the way back there, do we?”

Stan, who had been watching Wendy and the kids race ahead, pulled his attention back to Soos. “Absolutely not,” he said flatly, and pressed a hand to his back. “Especially not after the kids knocked me down like that.”

He winced as the three of them began to follow after the kids at a much slower pace. “Gonna be feeling that for at least a few days.”

“Well, at least it’s a sign that we won’t have to give Sir Isaac Newton a call,” Ford pointed out with a smile. “With the way the kids tackled you, there’s zero doubt that they’re thrilled to be back.”

Once again, Stan mirrored his smile with one of his own. “Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

Ford’s expression tensed for a moment at his brother’s joke, but any unease passed just as quickly as it had come when the sight of the familiar old cabin peered into view ahead of them.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Mommy!May: Arrangement

Content Includes: Mommy!Seonghwa x demisexual fem!reader, messy….MESSY, angst (so much of it), protected sex, touch-starved reader, kissing, foreplay, oral (f receiving), cum play, fingering (f receiving), swearing, 18+, based off true events. 

Word Count: 3.1 K

You never thought you would end up being this desperate for a man’s touch. 

Years of pent-up emotional and physical celibacy are now being broken for a scheduled dick appointment with a taken man. 

It all started over a tipsy conversation with you and your best friend, who’d you had known for years, the two of you making quiet conversation on the couch as a Netflix romance comedy played quietly in the background. 

‘I don’t get it, why don’t you just fuck a guy off Tinder? It’s simple, you just fuck, cum and leave’. 

You choked on your wine glass and stared at her in annoyance, rolling her eyes as you began a conversation that had been repeated many times. 

‘It’s not that simple for me, I need to have those feelings there, I can’t just fuck a guy without a connection, it’s not pleasurable for me’. 

She sighed in response and reached for the wine bottle, talking as she filled up both your glasses with the red liquid. 

‘Well, you have to do something because it’s clearly having an effect on you’.

She put the wine bottle back on the coffee table and reverted her attention back towards you, watching you stare into the glass as a means of feigned distraction. 

‘I don’t know anyone who’s gone for as long without sex like you have and you’re getting lonely, you’re not as upbeat as you used to be’. 

The words hit you deep in your heart and not because she was being so casual about her chosen words, most would find it offensive but your friend was painfully blunt with everything she said, so you had learnt to take her words as they were. 

The words hurt because it was fucking true and your defenses were up, navigating the conversation the best way you knew how. 

Humour. 

‘And what? You think you can change that? How? You’re going to loan me your boyfriend for the night? See if he’ll fuck the loneliness out of me and make me feel better?’ 

The snarkiness was strong in an attempt to hide the twang in your chest and your choked breath, taking a much needed swig out of the glass before shifting your attention back to your friend. 

Who was now quiet and looked at you with curiosity, her body open and relaxed. 

‘What?’ 

‘Would you want to fuck Seonghwa? I could ask him, you know? He’d probably say yes’. 

Your eyes widened and cheeks went red out of embarrassment at even questioning such a thought, curling your body away from her. 

‘What! I was just being sarcastic, he’s your boyfriend…why would you even say that?’ 

She leaned down to place her wine glass on the table, crossing her legs and leaning further towards you. 

‘Honey…Seonghwa is my person and we’re happy, you know that and besides, you’ve known him for as long as I have- so I’m sure that connection is there right?’

Anxiety stirred in your chest at even the thought of such an idea. 

And the shame was even more overpowering once you realised how enticed you were by the offer. 

Seonghwa had a beautiful heart and he adored your best friend, they were so perfect and cheesy together and it was gross and disgusting and OMG how you yearned for even just a fragment of it. 

You may have been jealous of their relationship at one point and sure-you may have checked out Seonghwa more than a few times. 

But that was a moral boundary you would never cross and never intended too. 

‘I mean…yeah but wouldn’t that be weird? I don’t know if I can fuck your boyfriend and then just act like nothing happened’.

‘Why not? It’s just for one night, then we’ll never discuss it again, we can move forward and just forget it ever happened’. 

The conversation continued with further discussion, more notably with how protection would be used and of course, she would have to get Seonghwa’s opinion first. 

It was strange but exciting- the situation was never one you expected but the idea of being cared for by a man you felt safe with, even on an emotional level. 

It sparked a desire in you that you hadn’t felt for awhile. 

And so, with all thoughts of rationality leaving your mind. 

You did the unthinkable. 

You said yes. 

…

The expensive fragrance of your perfume was the final touch needed for your outfit, giving yourself a quick glance in the mirror for any needed touch-ups. 

You smoothed your hands over the black, lace dress that had adorned your body, your special occasion dress that made you feel beautiful every time you wore it. 

The feeling of uncertainty still lingered in your belly as you admired the stockings you wore…and heels. 

There wasn’t really a point to it because you were just wearing them to your living room but they made you feel pretty and Seonghwa was apparently a legs man. 

Fuck, you can’t believe that he actually agreed to this. 

A few days after your friend’s ‘kind’ offer, you had received a message explaining how he said yes and you both organised a night where he would come to you. 

Which you were thankful for because whilst this wasn’t cheating and all parties were enthusiastic and consenting. 

The idea of you fucking your friend’s boyfriend in their bed wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to experience. 

And so you had spent the day buying new sheets and lingerie, purchasing a fresh bottle of wine and a scented candle because I don’t know-maybe the candle might make things better? 

The lights were dim, your hair was shiny and your face lightly made up and you almost felt calm and grounded. 

Until your phone pinged. 

And the screen lit up with a familiar number. 

‘Hey, I’m outside :)’

…

‘Oh wow, thank you. I wasn’t expecting this’ 

You chuckled out of surprise as Seonghwa handed you a single red rose, sniffing it lightly as you ran your eyes over Seonghwa’s attire. 

Black silk shirt with sleeves unbuttoned, dark jeans, boots and his dark, shaggy hair parted to the side. 

He looked gorgeous, desirable and wow- this was a level of effort you were not expecting. 

‘There was a lady outside selling them and I know you like roses so…’ 

He spoke as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. 

‘Well, thank you’ 

You reached out to rub his arm lightly in a gesture of fondness. 

‘I really appreciate it’. 

Seonghwa took a step towards you and there was a soft smirk on his face as he slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, the smallest of intimate touches already sending your heart ablaze. 

‘You’re welcome’ 

He whispered in your ear. 

And his voice alone was enough for your breath to shudder lightly, anticipation stirring in your chest. 

‘Would you like some wine? I haven’t tried it before but the lady at the store said it was pretty good so…yeah’ 

Mindless small talk was exchanged between you and Seonghwa as you stood in the kitchen, pouring wine into two glasses as Seonghwa leaned against the kitchen bench. 

‘So…how long do I have you tonight? I wasn’t told much, do you need to be out of here by a certain time?’ 

His fingertips grazed your wrist as he took the wine glass from you, the touching was so indiscreet you weren’t entirely sure if he was doing it on purpose. 

And he absolutely was because he could feel the nerves radiating off your body the moment he handed you the rose. 

Seonghwa chuckled half-heartedly at the response as he took a sip of wine, his bright teeth calming the air of tension that lingered. 

‘No- Do you think I’d fuck you and just leave? We have all night together’. 

Seonghwa’s abrasiveness left you surprised and you could feel the blush creep upon your cheeks, he really was a no-nonsense man. 

‘Well-I just wanted to prepare myself for what I was expecting’. 

You fiddled with the lace of your dress and stared down at your shoes, trying to figure out how a mindless conversation in the kitchen will turn into Seonghwa’s body on top of you. 

A gentle brush of fingers was felt on your arm as Seonghwa placed his wine on the bench, delicately removing the nearly-empty glass from your hands and placing it next to his. 

‘I’m not being a good guest am I?’ He teased, his voice low and a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

‘I almost forgot to tell you how beautiful you look right now’

His hands ran down your shoulders and settled near your waist, crowding you against the bench and you felt so small under his touch, your hands tentatively moving to his sides. 

‘You look handsome yourself, I still don’t know why you chose to do this’ 

You chimed as your hands slowly ran up his body, feeling the silkiness of his shirt under your fingertips. 

‘Because I know you feel safe with me’ 

His hands reached up to gently cradle your face, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look into his eyes and they were no longer filled with humour but serious, almost intimidating with how intense his gaze is. 

‘And you’re lonely’. 

A soft pair of lips was felt against your forehead and you could smell Seonghwa’s cologne soaking into your skin, making you giddy, making your skin warm with need. 

‘And I can’t give you what you need’.

You could feel his thumbs stroking your cheekbones and his nose almost touching yours, the energy was so strong, you could cut it like a knife. 

‘But I can give you tonight’. 

He kissed your mouth softly, almost timidly and he pulled away with a soft sound. 

‘Does that sound good?’

It had been so long since you had felt a man’s hands on your body, so long since receiving any type of attention or care at all. 

‘Absolutely’ 

You breathed out before leaning up and kissing him again, it was chaste and clean but it had been years since you’ve even made out with someone, you hoped kissing was an artform you hadn’t forgotten. 

‘Tell me’ Seonghwa spoke in between each kiss, his hands wrapped around your forearms. 

‘When was the last time you had sex?’ 

A shaky breath was felt in your chest, okay did he need to be this forward?

I guess he did. 

‘Years, it’s been years’. 

‘Really?’ 

He responded with a shock he couldn’t quite contain, the comment surprising him and he cleared his throat, attempting to hide the unexpected. 

Seonghwa knew you were a romantic and an emotional connection was needed in order to have sex, he knew about your failed attempts with men and the rejection you received. 

Unbeknownst to you, his partner told him absolutely everything about your friendship. 

He had seen you cry and gave you tissues and sweet words of comfort when another worthless man rejected your advances. 

He saw the sadness in your eyes whenever he showed affection to his girlfriend whilst you were there. 

‘Yeah…I know it’s been awhile…but I’ll try my best to make it good for the both of us’. 

The words wobbled in your throat as you spoke them, the intrusive thoughts expanding in your mind and spiralling. 

If you’re going to fuck one time, then you’ll give your best performance so he’ll remember this one time. 

‘Precious’ 

One final, gentle kiss. 

‘Don’t worry, I’m already enjoying tonight, I’m enjoying being with you’. 

…

Your mind and body were in a daze from euphoria and forgotten sensations. 

The trail of Seonghwa’s fingers on your bare skin, the look of care and need in his eyes as he undresses you, fervent kisses on your breasts, his warm and wet tongue on your clit. 

Everything felt heightened, sensationalised, electrified. 

Your mind was knocked back into the present when you felt Seonghwa’s mouth form a hard suction over your clit, his fingers gripping into your thighs, forcing them apart. 

‘Fuck…ahh!...it feels so good’ 

Pants and soft moans filled the room with a strewn arm thrown over your eyes, his relentless tongue and mouth almost becoming too much-so overwhelmed from so little. 

And he wasn’t even inside of you yet. 

‘You’re dripping precious, want you to cum all over Mommy’s face’. 

‘Wait-what?’

A tilt of your chin was all you needed to look at Seonghwa’s reddened face, revealing he said something he definitely did not mean too. 

‘Mommy?’ A questioning tone was heard in the room. 

‘Y-yeah, I thought she would have told you?’ 

‘I thought she was joking, I mean, I can see it but I thought she was fucking around’. 

Seonghwa started to lift himself, wiping his mouth as he spoke. 

‘We can just move on from it-’ 

‘No’ You frantically yelled out, a frenzy going over you as you threaded your fingers in Seonghwa’s hair, wanting him to lick you again. 

‘I don’t care, I’ll call you whatever you want, I’m so close…please keep going!’ 

Tears were pooling in your eyes from the frustration and being wound up, maybe you would think about it in the future. 

But right now you just don’t fucking care. 

Seonghwa groaned darkly, his voice vibrating through your core as he began eating you feverishly, almost like he could fully let go now. 

‘I thought you were a dirty girl’ 

Seonghwa moaned as his tongue flicked at your clit, his hips grinding into the mattress. 

‘You just needed Mommy to show you how dirty you are’. 

The teasing settled into the pit of your stomach and the coil was tightening, your whimpers growing and…

With a soft nibble to the underside of your clit, the band snapped. 

A palm clasped heavily over your mouth was used to stifle your cries, feeling your hips kick back into the mattress and your cunt clench around his fingers. 

Wet kisses against your core sent you spasming lightly, like Seonghwa was attempting to delay your orgasm for as long as possible. 

‘When I look at you from now on’ 

Seonghwa spoke as he trailed lazy kisses up your body, making his way up to your face. 

‘I’ll remember how sweet you taste on Mommy’s tongue’. 

The messy comment felt like cleanliness to your heart-starved mind, a pandora’s box disguised as pandora’s pleasure. 

‘But…’

An eager hand removed your palm, holding your wrist against him as Seonghwa looked at you with a warning glare in his eyes. 

‘Don’t hide your moans from me, Mommy wants to hear how good I make you feel…okay?’

‘O-okay’ His gaze was borderline intimidating, feeling almost trapped under his primal-like stare. 

‘Okay?’ His eyebrow quirked. 

‘Okay…Mommy?’ 

His gaze softened into something sweet, with a soft and affirmative smile. 

‘Good…good girl for Mommy’. 

Seonghwa’s plush mouth pressed against yours, tasting yourself as he licked your bottom lip. 

‘You listen so well’. 

‘Take deep breaths, just try to relax while I get myself ready’. 

The warmth of his body left yours and you stared mindlessly at the ceiling, hearing clothes drop to the floor and the sound of a condom wrapper tearing. 

Is it going to hurt? Am I wet enough? 

It’s been so long, I hope I’ll remember what to do. 

I hope it’s good-for both of us. 

A tap on your hip brought you into the present as you felt a pillow shoved under your hips, averting your gaze to see Seonghwa’s naked body and the thin latex covering his cock. 

‘You ready?’ 

‘Y-yeah’ Your voice cracked with uncertainty, shifting to get your hips comfortable. 

‘Just….’ You reached out to grab Seonghwa’s hand, clenched with worry. 

‘Go slow…please?’ 

Seonghwa’s warmth in his eyes and his smile helped to soothe the tension lightly, his nurturing energy and all-round care for you helped cement your reasoning in this being the right decision. 

At least right now. 

‘Of course, tonight is about you. You’re Mommy’s priority right now’. 

His tip prodded at your entrance and your body clenched in response to the foreign sensation. 

‘Mom-mommy’ 

You gasped out, clutching his forearms as Seonghwa hovered over you, his hands pressed beside your face. 

‘It’s okay…breathe’ He kissed the tip of your nose, ‘Mommy’s got you’. 

Jolts of electricity surged from your core down to the balls of your feet as Seonghwa breached you, the feeling of being split open was so prominent it was borderline painful. 

‘F-fuck, you’re so tight, I can feel you pulling me in’

His head hung low and his fringe brushed over his lashes, shiny mouth, taut muscles and sweat on his brow. 

Seonghwa looked ethereal, glowing and wrecked in all the best ways possible. 

You already were fucked. 

From this moment, you know you would never forget how LOVED you felt with this man on top of you. 

And as Seonghwa began to slowly move in and out of you, your legs locking him against you fingers tightly interlocked with his and cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with pleasure. 

His heart twisted in a way he wasn’t expecting, his girlfriend forgotten, the brevity of this situation forgotten. 

All he could focus on were how desperate you felt under him, the need to PLEASE and the need to be GOOD overwhelmed his senses that he hadn’t experienced before with his partner. 

A particularly hard thrust had you crying out in surprise, tears pricking your eyes and fingers pressing into Seonghwa’s knuckles. 

Seonghwa panted out, his thrusts slowing down and he released his hand to cup your face. 

‘Are you okay? Mommy got carried away’. 

Your arms wrapped tight around Seonghwa’s shoulders as you held him taut against you, holding him like he was your lifeline. 

‘Keep going…please Mommy’ You whined out, brow all scrunched up ‘Don’t stop’. 

You didn’t finish and you weren’t expecting too, the feeling of being held and cared for was enough for you. 

The warmth of Seonghwa’s release was felt with Seonghwa’s whine in your ear, evoking a sense of happiness in understanding you were good enough for him to finish. 

‘You did so well’ His eyes were hazy as he rubbed your shoulders, your body still tense and holding him to you. 

You knew you had to let him go eventually. 

You just didn’t want to. 

‘Thank you for doing this, it was incredible’ 

A lingering kiss was shared, one that might not be shared again. 

‘Mommy will stay awhile precious, make sure you’re okay’.

The night ended with Seonghwa’s body pressed close to yours, feigning sleep because you knew he’d be gone by the time you woke up. 

If only at the time, you knew. 

How messy a simple arrangement can be. 

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