#i did like what i saw of the first two ESPECIALLY Catching Fire i really like that movie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quinnsdesk · 1 month ago

Text

Caught off guard

tim bradford x inexperienced!fem!reader

synopsis: you never expected to find tim in such a vulnerable moment. walking into his office, you freeze as your eyes land on him, intensely focused, caught in the middle of pleasuring himself. the unexpected intimacy between you stirs a confusing mix of embarrassment, curiosity, and something deeper. as tim quickly recovers, the tension between you shifts, opening the door to a new kind of connection neither of you saw coming and maybe him teaching you a new thing or two.

requested by: my lovely @sleepymissy author's note: yet another amazing req from my lovely Missy. this is a longer one and also not proofread, sorry but the ideas were just flowing! (join the taglist)

content warnings: mdni, age gap, mentions of sex work, mentions of violence, masturbation (m), hand jobs, fingering, virginity loss, p in v.

word count: 7.4k

You felt amazing. It was amazing. You were finally P2. For the longest time, it felt like your time as a rookie would never end, but finally, you'd made it. Thank goodness Grey had paired you with one of the kindest and most good-hearted men you knew. John Nolan.

John was everything you could’ve asked for in a training officer. He was patient, gentle when needed, tough when necessary, and always willing to listen. He guided you through your toughest calls and celebrated your wins like they were his own. His group of friends welcomed you easily, all warm smiles and helpful advice.

Well, all except one.

Tim Bradford.

He was stoic. Intense. Controlled. Tim was quiet in that unnerving way that made you wonder what he was thinking. His eyes, a piercing ocean blue, always seemed to be working something out that he never let anyone in on. He wasn't even part of patrol anymore. He was working metro, and yet he was always around.

At first, you didn’t understand why. He was in metro, a tight knit group who wouldn't really hang out with those outside their clique, especially not with Nolan and his easygoing friends. But Lucy had explained it one day, a little awkwardly. They used to be something. More than just partners. Because a superior dating a subordinate could put both their careers at risk, Tim had transferred to metro to make things easier. So, there was history.

And for a while, it had worked. Things between them seemed good. Solid even. But eventually, it fell apart. Lucy moved on. She went back to Chris, saying she needed something more grounded. Something stable.

"Look at you! P2." Lucy grinned as you walked into the station. She stood beside Tim, who, as always, remained composed.

"Congrats, Boot. Didn’t think you’d make it this far." His tone was dry, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. The word Boot was meant to be a jab, something to get under your skin, yet coming from him, it rolled off you like water off a duck's back.

"Thanks, sir." You smiled sweetly, catching the faint flush that crept up his neck.

Tim would be lying if he said he didn’t notice you. You were younger. Confident. Attractive. And the way you called him sir, even now that you didn’t have to, did things to him he didn’t want to admit. Maybe it was the tone you used, teasing and respectful all at once. Maybe it was the way your eyes lingered on him a second too long. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to you. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

___________

“So, any celebration plans now that you're a P2?” Aaron asks, his hands steady on the wheel as he cruises down the road, eyes flicking between the traffic and you.

You shrug, watching the city pass by through the passenger window. “Hm, not really. I mean… is it really that big of a deal?”

Aaron scoffs. “Uh, yeah! Most rookies wash out before they even get to this point. But you didn’t. That means something.”

You hum in reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “If you need, I know the best caviar place."

You turn to him with a smirk, but before you can fire back, a rapid pop-pop-pop shatters the rhythm of the moment. Gunshots. Close.

Aaron’s posture snaps straight, and your hand instinctively drops to your holster.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, eyes scanning the buildings, already flipping your body around in the seat.

“Yeah. That was automatic.” He flicks on the lights and sirens, making a sharp turn onto the next street.

You both move fast. No hesitation. Radios crackle as you key up. “7-Adam-19, we’ve got shots fired near 5th and Valencia. Requesting backup and an airship. Possible active shooter.”

The tires screech as you roll up to a narrow alley choked with shadow. A black SUV is parked half-on, half-off the curb, the driver’s side door still swinging open. Shell casings glitter on the pavement like cursed confetti.

“Shit,” Aaron mutters, parking at an angle for cover. “You see anyone?”

You shake your head, already stepping out, weapon drawn, scanning.

“Clear right,” you whisper, and he answers, “Clear left.”

The two of you move together, backs tight, eyes sharp. Halfway down, a steel door slams shut at the far end of the alley, and a shadow flits behind a dumpster.

Aaron lifts his radio again. “We have movement. Possible suspect fleeing eastbound. Need Metro support. Now.”

Crackling static fills the radio before Tim’s voice cuts through. “Metro en route. ETA three minutes. Hold position if you can.”

Your grip tightens on your gun at the sound of his voice. Not because you're nervous—no, because lately things between you and Tim have felt... off. Since you made P2, he’s been distant. Guarded. You don’t know what shifted, but it lingers in every interaction like smoke in the air.

You and Aaron hold the position, watching the far end of the alley until Metro arrives. Tim’s team pours in with practiced precision, clearing the buildings, chasing the trail. But the shooter’s already fled.

When the adrenaline fades, you're left staring down at the glittering casings and the bloodstain near the SUV’s tire. A reminder of how close chaos always is.

Tim finds you shortly after. He says nothing at first, just walks over, scanning you for injuries, for damage. His eyes are sharp, unreadable.

“You good?” he finally asks.

You nod. “Yeah. We held perimeter until Metro showed. Suspect’s gone.”

He studies you for a second longer than necessary. “You did good.”

It should feel like praise. It should feel like validation. But instead, it lands heavy, like there’s something he’s not saying.

"Thanks." Aaron chirps in to cut the thick air, it was meant to come out as a joke, but he only earned a smirk from you, Tim remained his usual grumpy self. Tim nods in goodbye before joining his metro buddies. "Damn, I didn't think Tim could be grumpier than he already is." Aaron turns around with you, greeting Nyla and Angela as they walk onto the scene. "Hm, I noticed that too, I mean he's always been a bit of an ass but lately he's been a huge dick." You whispered not wanting anyone to hear your conversation.

Suddenly you went quiet, it was pathetic honestly. The image of Tim flooded your mind, his cock in hand, his heavy blue eyes on you, and only you. "Hey? You good?" Aaron opens the passenger door for you to enter, being the usual gentleman he is. "Hm? Yeah, just thinking about celebration plans." You lied.

The drive back to the station was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled not from lack of things to say, but from the weight of everything that had just happened. The adrenaline was still ebbing in your bloodstream, leaving behind the telltale ache in your limbs and the faint thud in your temples. You stared out the window, watching the city blur past in amber streaks of streetlight, but your mind wasn’t on the buildings or the traffic.

It was on him.

You tried not to think about it, about him, but the moment kept replaying behind your eyes like some slow-motion loop you couldn’t shake. Tim, storming into the alley with Metro, taking command like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bulletproof vest snug against his chest, sculpting his torso like a second skin. You knew the man was fit, had seen him train, seen him in uniform day in and day out, but something about him in that moment hit different.

Maybe it was the way he moved, fluid and sure, eyes scanning, body tensed for danger. Or maybe it was the way his biceps strained beneath the sleeves of his black tactical shirt, the fabric clinging and flexing with each movement like it could barely contain the power underneath. It looked like the seams were moments away from surrendering, and you hated how easily your eyes had locked there.

And his jaw, God, his jaw. Clenched in that firm, focused way, like he was holding back an entire storm of emotion, pushing it all down so he could stay sharp. Professional. In control. The muscle ticked as he gave orders, his voice calm but edged in steel, and the way he held his weapon? You’d trained for that. Practiced that. But when he did it, it wasn’t just muscle memory. It was precision, dominance, command.

You remembered the veins on his forearms, too, what a ridiculous detail to get stuck on, but they stood out, thick and pronounced as he moved with purpose. They pulsed beneath the skin, mapping a trail that had your stomach tightening in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. It was... distracting. Maddening.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if you could dislodge the image. You shouldn't be thinking about him like that, especially not after an active shooter scene. But the image lingered. Branded into your thoughts like heat against cold metal.

Next to you, Aaron drove in silence. Maybe he was lost in his own thoughts too, maybe he was giving you space. Either way, you were grateful. The last thing you needed right now was to talk. Especially not about what had just happened, or who had just happened to show up like a real-life action hero.

You rubbed your fingers against your thigh, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help much.

Because despite the calm in the car, your thoughts were anything but. And no matter how hard you tried to focus on what came next, paperwork, statements, the debrief, all you could think about was Tim Bradford. Clenched jaw. Veined forearms. Gun in hand.

___________

“Hey, I heard about the shooting. You okay?” Lucy’s voice cut through the low buzz of the station, her concern evident as she approached you and Aaron. Her brows were pulled together, eyes scanning your face for any sign of strain.

“Yeah,” Aaron replied quickly, before you could even open your mouth. “Perp got away just as Tim and his team made it to the scene.”

Lucy winced. “Shit,” she mumbled, her gaze drifting toward Grey’s office. Tim was already inside, standing tall, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he gave his debrief. His expression was unreadable, locked down and professional, but you could see the muscle twitch in his jaw as he spoke. Always in control. Always wound just a little too tight.

You were about to excuse yourself to change out of your tac gear when Grey’s voice rang out across the bullpen.

“Can I see you in my office?”

You froze for a beat, then nodded quickly, wiping your palms on your pants before crossing the floor and stepping into the office.

Tim barely looked at you as you entered, though you could feel the heat of his stare lingering just beneath the surface. He stood beside Grey, who didn’t waste time.

“We think the shooter was tipped off,” Grey began, his tone clipped and direct. “The plates on the vehicle match one of Elijah Stone’s known associates.”

You swallowed hard. That name wasn’t just any name, it carried weight. Violence. Power.

“We need someone on the inside,” Grey continued. “Someone new. Unconnected.”

Tim finally looked at you. Really looked.

“Ever worked UC, Boot?”

Your stomach tightened. Grey’s brows twitched slightly at the nickname, but he didn’t comment. Tim didn’t apologize either.

“Uh… n-no, sir.” Your voice hitched embarrassingly under their dual scrutiny. Both men stared at you like they were weighing something, like this moment mattered more than you realized.

“Chen will brief you. Get ready. Wheels up in 30,” Grey said, voice firm. Then he added, without looking up, “Unless you think you’re not ready.”

You didn’t miss the way Tim’s gaze bore into you—sharp, questioning, challenging. Like he wanted to see if you’d flinch.

“No,” you said, straighter now. Stronger. “I’m ready, sir.”

You didn’t know then what that really meant.

It hit you like a slap once you saw the outfit.

The wardrobe Lucy laid out for you was, well, it was a lot. You were being posed as a hooker.

The low-cut black tank top was tight across your chest, just barely appropriate enough to conceal the small wire and mic strapped beneath it. Over it, a cheap faux-fur jacket that reeked of desperation and stale perfume. The mini skirt was metallic gold, short enough to reveal everything with one wrong move. Paired with thigh-high black stockings that clung to your legs like a second skin, and silver platform heels that looked like they belonged on a stripper pole.

Lucy had gone full out with your hair and makeup, your ponytail was teased to high heaven, your lips glossed a sticky cherry red, and your eyes smoked out with so much liner you barely recognized your own face. The gold hoops in your ears caught the overhead lights like a beacon.

You looked… older. Edgier. Dangerous.

And, okay, hot. You couldn’t deny that. You looked like a problem.

When you stepped out of the locker room, the reaction was immediate.

Aaron let out a slow, impressed breath, shaking his head. “Damn. If the undercover gig doesn’t pan out, you could start charging entry to walk into a room like that.”

Lucy grinned with pride, arms folded like a fashion designer watching her muse strut the runway. “I told you,” she said to Angela, “this girl has range.”

Angela gave you a once-over, clearly impressed. “Lucy, you need to dress me up for date night with Wesley,” she joked, before fist-bumping Nyla.

You, on the other hand, tugged at your skirt in a useless attempt to cover more skin. “This feels like it’s… too much,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

Your hands instinctively went to your thighs, trying to smooth the fabric, but all you succeeded in doing was drawing more attention to your legs—especially the toned lines of your quads and calves, made even more pronounced by the heels.

Tim was standing off to the side, silent. You looked up at him, and that was when it hit.

He wasn’t just quiet. He was avoiding looking at you.

His jaw was tight again. His eyes flicked to you once, briefly, before darting away like your body might physically burn him if he stared too long.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s focus,” he said, but his voice was slightly hoarse, betraying him. You swore his ears had turned red. You stood a little straighter after that. Maybe the outfit was too much. But from the way Tim couldn’t meet your gaze or maybe it was just enough.

"Looking good," Grey said with a small, almost reluctant smile as he walked into the bullpen, his eyes flicking over the outfit you were reluctantly wearing.

"Thank you, sir." You gave a nod, awkwardly tugging at your tank top in a half-hearted attempt to cover a bit more cleavage. It didn’t help. The outfit was designed to draw attention, and unfortunately, it was doing exactly that. You felt the subtle stares, the quiet shift in energy from every nearby officer.

The group made their way into roll call. As the chatter died down and everyone took their seats, you remained standing near Grey at the front.

He cleared his throat. "Tonight, one of our own will be going undercover as Candy Simmons. She’s a low-level prostitute working the corner our suspect, our shooter, Luke Graham, is known to frequent."

The room tensed. The atmosphere changed in an instant, eyes sharpened, jaws set. Protective instincts quietly stirred.

“If you see her on the street, you treat her like any other working girl. Cuff her. Book her. Say it’s for solicitation. Stay in character. No exceptions,” Grey instructed firmly.

Nods went around the room, some hesitant, others grim. Lucy shot you a quick look, half support, half concern, while Lopez folded her arms with an unreadable expression, clearly not thrilled.

Tim stood up near the back and stepped forward, voice cutting clean through the quiet. “Let’s be clear. Catching Graham is the mission. But no suspect is worth losing one of our own. Her safety comes first."

His eyes flicked toward you for half a second, something unreadable behind them, controlled, but heavy.

“If she calls for backup, you respond. Immediately. And if anything starts going sideways, we pull her out. No discussion.” He barks.

You swallowed, nodding once. You weren’t a stranger to danger, but this was different. This wasn’t a vest and a badge, it was heels, makeup, and vulnerability. You were walking into this as bait.

“Understood?” Grey asked, scanning the room.

A chorus of affirmatives followed.

As roll call ended and officers filtered out, Tim caught up with you just outside the door, lowering his voice.

“You sure about this?” His tone was calm, but his eyes searched yours, clearly looking for any hint of hesitation.

You forced a confident smirk. “Candy Simmons doesn’t scare easy.”

He didn’t smile back, but you can tell he's holding one on the inside. He just gave a curt nod and walked off, shoulders tight, fists lightly clenched at his sides.

___________

"New girl! This is my corner."

The voice rang out sharp and territorial. You turned to see her, she had a short blond bob, fishnet stockings hugging long legs, and a skin-tight, hot pink dress that shimmered under the dull yellow streetlight. She looked like trouble. The kind that earned her turf.

"Plenty space for all of us," you replied, your voice dipped in a deliberately cheap Boston accent. You gave a casual smile, pulling a cigarette from the pack in your bra and handing it to her. "Candy."

She gave you a once-over, eyeing the cigarette, then you, then the cigarette again. She took it. Truce.

"Candy, huh? Bit cliché, don’t you think?" she said as she lit up.

You gave a shrug. "It sticks."

"Peach," she introduced, smoke curling from her lips. "That’s Felicity—" she nodded to a girl with dark curls and hollow eyes, "—and Nina’s the one in the silver heels."

Felicity stepped closer, arms crossed. "Where you from, Candy? You look familiar."

You blinked, maintaining your cool. “I get that a lot,” you replied with a small laugh. “Boston. Just moved down. My old man said I’d make better bag here.”

"Uh-huh," Felicity muttered, still squinting, not entirely convinced, but not ready to push either.

A car rolled up with black, tinted windows, and the window slid down with an electric hum. The man inside leaned over. “Hey, baby, wanna have a good night?”

Peach strutted forward in practiced rhythm, leaning against the car door with ease. “You’re lucky,” she cooed. “Tonight, you got options.” She winked back at you before climbing in, the door shutting with a low thump.

This was all too surreal. You shifted on your heels, cold breeze dancing up your barely-there skirt. You kept your body loose, expression indifferent. Candy Simmons might be fake, but the environment wasn’t.

You were about to reposition yourself further down the sidewalk when you felt it, a presence.

A man. Tall, wiry, with greasy hair pulled back into a thin ponytail. His clothes hung loose on his frame, and he reeked of alcohol and something more chemical. He staggered forward, eyes locked on you like you were a meal.

"Don’t think I’ve seen you around here," he slurred, stepping too close. “Fresh meat, huh?”

You forced a laugh, taking a step back, trying to remain in character. “Just workin’, baby.”

But he didn’t back off. Instead, his fingers reached out, brushing your arm, then gripping it.

“I asked you a question, bitch,” he snapped, voice low and menacing. “This corner ain’t charity. You pay to be here.”

You froze for just a second. Not from fear—you had backup close—but the sudden shift in his demeanor. He wasn’t just posturing. He meant to hurt you.

"Yo!"

The voice sliced through the night.

You turned your head to see Tim, he wore a filthy flannel, with dark jeans and his crisp white t-shirt underneath, something he obviously threw together no more than 5 minutes ago. He was storming towards the two of you.

"The hell you think you’re doin’ with my girl?" Tim barked, squaring up to the man. His voice was rough, laced with threat, and dripping with territorial menace. He was completely in character. Your so-called pimp.

The man raised his hands, backing up a step. “Hey, man, chill, didn’t know she was spoken for—”

“She’s mine,” Tim growled, shoving his way between you and the creep, now nose to nose with him. “You touch her again, I’ll bury you in a goddamn alley.”

The man stumbled back, hands shaking, and then bolted down the sidewalk like a rat scurrying into a sewer.

Tim turned, his expression still hard. He grabbed your arm—not too tight, but enough for the role—and hissed just loud enough for the mics to catch it: “You good?”

You nodded once, quick.

His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before letting go. He looked you over and muttered under his breath, "You need to sell the act, but don’t forget what’s real. I’m right here." Was Tim being genuine and caring?

Then, louder, his voice changing back to his in-character bark, he snapped, “Get your ass back on the sidewalk. You’re not here to flirt, you’re here to work.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, flipping your hair. “Whatever, baby.”

As you returned to your post, the adrenaline still buzzed under your skin. The mission was still on, but so was something else. Something hot and tense that simmered beneath the roleplay.

And you had a feeling the night wasn’t done testing you.

You watched as Tim walked away, a heavy feeling lodged deep in your chest. He didn’t look back. Not even once. You told yourself to shake it off, to focus, to stay in character. You didn’t have time to fall apart, not when the target was walking right toward you.

Graham stumbled out from the alleyway, reeking of cheap whiskey and bad decisions. His brunette hair was unkempt, eyes bloodshot, and a toothpick dangled lazily from the corner of his mouth. He scanned the sidewalk, eyes eventually landing on you like you were just another item to collect. You were playing bait, and he was taking it.

"You new?" he asked, voice slurred, eyes trailing your figure as he took a slow, cocky step closer.

"I am," you purred, smiling sweetly. "But I’m also unforgettable." You placed a flirty hand on his chest, fingers brushing the edge of his jacket.

He chuckled lowly, leaning in with a disgusting grin. "Mmm, I like that."

"Yeah?" You tilted your head.

Quick as a whip, your hand closed around his wrist while your other slammed into his chest. He staggered, caught off guard, and you used the momentum to body slam him into the hood of his car. He grunted loudly, face mashed against the dirty metal.

"LAPD," you growled, yanking his arm behind his back. "You're under arrest, Graham."

But he wasn’t going down easy.

His elbow rammed back, catching you in the ribs, making you stumble. You regained your footing just in time to dodge a wild punch. "You bitch!" he snarled.

He swung again, this time grabbing at your shirt. The fabric tore at the collar as you twisted away, but you didn’t let go. You landed a solid knee to his thigh and grabbed his hair, yanking him forward and off balance.

You slammed him into the pavement with a grunt, cuffing one wrist as he thrashed beneath you. "Stay the hell down!" you snapped, breath hot with adrenaline.

He kicked out, but Nyla arrived just then, gun drawn. "Graham, don't be stupid."

Seeing backup, Graham finally stilled. You locked the second cuff into place with a loud click, panting hard, shirt torn and sticking to your skin.

“Good work,” Nyla said, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him up. “You good?”

"Peachy," you muttered, brushing hair from your face, trying not to notice the cool air hitting your now-exposed bra as your torn shirt shifted.

You turned—just in time to see Tim approaching, eyes scanning over the scene.

But then his gaze landed on you.

He froze for a second, eyes darkening as he took in the ripped fabric across your chest, the pale strap of your bra peeking through. His jaw tightened, and without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and moved toward you.

"Here," he said quietly, draping it over your shoulders in one swift, protective motion before anyone else could get a good look. His fingers lingered just a second too long at the collar, eyes meeting yours, filled with concern. "You okay?"

You swallowed, nodding as you tugged the jacket tighter around yourself. It was warm, and it smelled like him.

"Yeah. Just... need a minute."

"Take it," he said, his voice gentler now. "I’ve got the scene."

And just like that, he stood between you and the rest of the world—shielding you without saying a word.

___________

As you walked back into the station, you felt every eye lock onto you like lasers. The usual buzz of the bullpen evaporated into a weighted silence. No one spoke. No one moved. The only sound echoing off the polished floors was the sharp clink of your heels.

Tim's jacket clung tightly to your chest, shielding the torn remnants of your shirt underneath. It was far too big on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but it felt like armor, thick, warm, and safe. You kept your gaze forward, refusing to let them see the rawness in your expression.

"Back to work!" Grey barked, snapping the room out of its daze. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but their eyes still followed you.

He stepped toward you then, placing a broad, reassuring hand on your shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding.

"How you feeling?" he asked, his voice lower now, more personal.

You gave him a tired smile, reaching up and gently touching the bandage taped just above your brow, courtesy of Graham’s flailing elbow. The area throbbed dully, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded only an hour earlier.

"Like I need a drink... or ten," you muttered dryly, earning the faintest tug of a smile from Grey.

He nodded, the concern in his eyes briefly eclipsing the usual stoic facade. "Get changed then go home. Rest—you need it," he said in that fatherly tone of his, the kind that brokered no argument but carried care underneath.

"Yes, sir," you replied softly, your voice laced with exhaustion.

You turned and walked toward the locker rooms. Your muscles were already beginning to stiffen, the ache settling in like an unwelcome guest. The bruises hadn’t fully bloomed yet, but you could feel them forming beneath your skin like slow fire. You’d be sore tomorrow, no doubt about it.

After changing back into your jeans and a soft, worn-in t-shirt, you stuffed the ruined blouse into your gym bag and zipped it shut. You paused for a moment, running your fingers down the heavy fabric of Tim’s metro jacket. It still smelled like him, faint hints of cologne, clean sweat, and the worn leather of the car seat he practically lived in. You slipped it over your arm.

Then, you headed toward his office.

As you walked down the hallway, your boots clicking softly against the tile floor, you heard faint mumbles coming from ahead. At first, they were indistinct, just low, almost rhythmic sounds, the kind your brain tries to dismiss as nothing more than background noise. But then, in the spaces between footsteps, you caught something more specific. Your name.

You stopped dead in your tracks, brows furrowed. 'Did I hear that right?' The station was quiet, unusually so. It was after hours, and most people had gone home. You’d stayed behind to finish paperwork, but now curiosity itched beneath your skin. It was probably nothing, you reasoned. Maybe you were tired, hearing things after an already stressful night.

Still, something pulled you forward, an invisible thread tugging at your gut.

As you approached Tim’s office, the muffled murmurs grew clearer, layered with something else now. Moans. Quiet, ragged moans. Your breath hitched as you stood frozen just outside his door. No way. Your heart began to pound in your chest. A dozen rational explanations raced through your mind, maybe he’d clicked on a bad ad while researching a case, or maybe some video started playing unexpectedly. Maybe he was listening to something with headphones, not realizing how loud it was.

But when you leaned in, just slightly, just enough to press your ear gently against the doorframe, you heard it again.

"Fuck… yes, baby..."

The voice was deep, raw, strained with pleasure. You recognized it instantly. Tim.

Your hand, without thought, drifted to the doorknob. Not turning it. Just resting there. Your mouth had gone dry, and you blinked hard, trying to process what the hell was happening.

It was probably a video; you told yourself again. It has to be a video. Or maybe a phone call. Maybe he’s not even alone in there.

And then you heard it. Your name. Not once. Twice. Moaned like a prayer, broken and desperate.

Every theory you had disintegrated in that moment.

You flinched back as if burned. The thought of knocking had completely slipped your mind, replaced with the dull roar of blood in your ears. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, a brutal rhythm of disbelief and something else. Something darker. Hotter.

Your name. He said your name.

You should leave. You should walk away, forget you ever heard anything, pretend none of this happened. That would be the smart thing to do. The respectful thing.

But your feet stayed planted.

Slowly, cautiously, your hand turned the knob. You didn’t even realize you were opening the door until it gave way with a soft click and swung inward just a few inches.

Enough to see.

Tim sat behind his desk, slouched back in his chair, his head tilted against the headrest. One hand gripped the armrest in a white-knuckled hold. The other disappeared beneath the edge of his desk, rhythmically moving.

You couldn’t see everything. Just enough.

His eyes were shut, brows furrowed in concentration, jaw clenched tight as if he were holding back groans that threatened to spill over. His chest rose and fell in staggered breaths.

"God..."

Then he said it again. Clear. Intense. Like he meant it.

You sucked in a breath and instinctively stepped back, heart thundering.

The soft scuff of your shoe must’ve been louder than you thought.

Tim’s eyes flew open.

For a second, maybe even less, you both just stared. He looked startled, flushed, pupils blown wide with shock. And then his face twisted in panic and embarrassment as he registered what was happening. His hand shot away, grabbing at his desk, a clumsy attempt at covering what couldn’t be unseen.

“Shit!” he barked, scrambling upright. “I- what the hell—why are you-?”

“I- I didn’t mean to-” you stammered, your eyes darting toward the floor, heat blooming across your cheeks. “I heard, something, I thought you needed help-” You watched as he quickly stuffed himself back into his jeans.

“You heard something?” he snapped, standing up fully now, still clearly rattled, trying desperately to regain composure. “Jesus Christ.”

“I didn’t l-look. I swear, oh my God I'm so sorry!" You threw your palms over your eyes as he sat back down and sighed, his hands running over his clenched jaw. "Tim... say something please..." Your throat was tight, your plea coming out softer than planned. "Get over here." He ordered. Your mouth went dry. "W-what?" You stumbled towards him, his two hands on each of his muscular thighs, you could see his hard cock straining beneath his jeans.

It was almost as if he could tell from your facial expressions that you weren't used to this, not just with him but with anyone.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked again, not out of mockery or dominance, but curiosity, laced with something softer. Something deeper. He was reading your face like a case file, dissecting your reactions, watching the way you flinched, not with shame, but with exposure.

You hesitated, then gave the smallest of nods.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, fingers curling slightly against the polished surface, heart thundering in your chest. The air between you was thick, as if time itself had paused, stretching each second out like molasses.

And yet, his eyes didn’t waver.

A flicker passed through his expression. Something primal, restrained. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move toward you. If anything, he stayed grounded, seated, steady.

“Such a sweet, innocent girl,” he murmured, voice roughened with want, but low, measured. “No one’s ever taken their time with you, have they?”

You could barely speak. The world felt like it had shrunk to just the space between you, the weight of his gaze, and the heat building low in your stomach. You weren’t used to being looked at like this. Not with hunger, but reverence. Like you were something valuable. Worth unraveling.

His eyes dropped, trailing down your legs and back up with a purpose that made your skin flush.

You swallowed thickly. “W-what were you thinking about?”

Your voice cracked slightly, and you hated how unsure it sounded. But you needed to know. You needed to understand what it was about you that had pulled this version of Tim to the surface, unguarded, raw, wanting.

He didn’t flinch.

“You,” he said. “And those perfect legs. The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. The way you always act like you’ve got something to prove, like you’re afraid no one’s ever going to see how brilliant you are unless you burn yourself out trying.”

You weren’t sure if it was adrenaline or something else, but your hands trembled. Not from fear, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in your body right now. Just anticipation. An ache you didn’t know you’d been carrying.

His thumb traced the seam of his jeans absently as he leaned back in his chair, still watching you like you were the center of gravity in the room. And for him? You probably were.

“I shouldn’t be saying any of this,” he admitted. “You're were a rookie not too long ago."

He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to release the tension that had coiled tightly in his shoulders.

“And yet…” he looked at you, voice barely audible. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

There was silence again. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was thick with unsaid things. The kind of silence that hums in your chest, waiting for someone to make the next move.

Your gaze dropped to the floor. You were overwhelmed, your body, your thoughts, your heart all screaming different things.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted quietly. “With any of this.”

“I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I’m going to teach you every step of the way. And make you feel so good, if that's what you want?" He brushes a strand of hair to exposed more your neck and collarbone. "Yes... please." You whined as he sat back down on his chair. He patted on his lap for you to sit down before unbuckling his belt and releasing his cock.

You gulped nervously as he stroked himself a few times, taking a deep breath and inhaling your scent. You slowly take his cock in your hand and stroke him. "Hmm.. doing s'good baby." He hums before closing his eyes, releasing a deep breath. "You can go a bit faster if you want." His one hand gripping the armrest while the other is rubbing your back. You sped up earning a groan from Tim. "L-like this?" You peep, watching as his smirks. "Fuckin' perfect." He throws his head back.

You unintentionally let out a whine as Tim pulled your hand away, fixing himself up before making you sit on his desk. "Relax baby, I don't wanna cum just yet. Gotta savor the moment." He helped you pull your jeans down before spreading your legs.

"Tim!" You gasped as he slowly pushed one of his large digits into your soaked cunt. "That's it sweetheart." He cooed watching your big, beautiful eyes grow from pain and pleasure. You arched your back as he rubbed is thumb on your clit, you almost saw stars. Tim placed a hasty kiss on your lips as he grinned, watching your chest rise a fall from the stimulation.

You felt a coil form in your lower belly, but you hadn't recognized it, "Gonna cum baby?" He looks up at you as a little bead of sweat rolls down your temple. You nod, realizing you were approaching your orgasm.

"Hey!" You yelped as he removed his fingers, unbuckling his belt for the third time before pushing your legs back apart. "I need to be in you." He groans, gripping his desk before aligning his cock with your folds. Your eyes grew at his size, surely there was no way he was going to fit without a fight.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He looked deep into your eyes, "We'll stop at any time." You nodded again, wrapping your legs around his lower torso. He slowly pushed himself into you, a loud whine leaving your lips as Tim stretched you out. "Shhh baby, you're bein' so loud." He placed his large palm over your mouth before continuing with his painfully slow thrust.

"God, baby yes." He groaned into the nape of your neck as he finally reached your hilt, your hymen now torn. "Thank you so much, sweetheart." He slowly pulled back out before thrusting back in, making sure to maintain a slow pace to help you adjust to his size. "Tim.." You moaned as you felt him filling you up. "Yes, c'mon, just like that." His hands were planted on his desk on the either side of you, as you held onto his shoulders and your legs maintained their grip around his torso.

"Cum baby." He panted, his head in the crook of your neck. You moved one hand to grip the back of his head, as your involuntarily clenched around him. "Tim!" You whined cumming all over him and arching your back as you felt his heavy cock pulse inside of you. "Pull ou-" You panted as Tim's thrusts got sloppier and lazier. "What?" His voice was high pitched, you swore you almost heard a voice crack. "Pull out, Sir!" You moaned a little too loud, you felt him pull out - almost too late and cum all over your lower belly and thighs.

"Shit." His body went limp on top of yours, your muscles were on fire. Hell, your whole body was on fire. "Here." He used his spare shirt to wipe you up, the gesture being more sensual than Tim had intended it to be. "Tim... you don't have to." You were still sitting on the edge of his desk; he was now kneeling in front of you. "I want to." He gently padded the swollen and painful area, feeling back every time you winced before handing you your jeans.

“Can I walk you out?” Tim asked quietly as you slung your gym bag over your shoulder, the soft hum of the nearly empty precinct wrapping around you like a late-night secret.

You glanced up, catching the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes, and smiled warmly. “Of course.” You locked your phone in your bag and slipped your arm through the strap. Together, you stepped out of the bullpen, the lights dimmed to just a few overhead bulbs casting long shadows down the hall.

The station was nearly deserted now, only the night shift remaining, their murmurs and shuffles barely audible. The usual clatter and buzz of daytime activity had faded, replaced by a calm hush that seemed to hold its breath.

Tim walked beside you, his steps steady and easy, but there was a tension to him you hadn’t noticed before, something in his jaw tightening, in the way he kept his gaze low. Finally, as you reached the row of cars outside, he sighed, the sound heavy and a little vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low.

“For?” You looked up at him, unlocking your car doors and balancing your bag on the roof.

Tim swallowed, hesitating before he looked you in the eye. “I didn’t—well, I didn’t want your first time to be in… there.” He gestured vaguely back toward the station.

You smirked, leaning forward to place a deliberately innocent kiss on his cheek. The warmth of your lips made him shift under your touch, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

“Are you kidding? I don’t regret it at all.” Your smile deepened, the playful glint in your eyes promising a little mischief.

He chuckled softly, the sound rough but genuine, and leaned casually against your car. “If you let me buy you dinner tomorrow night… maybe we can spend most of the night in my bed. I still have a few more things to teach you after all.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest as you studied him with amused disbelief. “Who are you? And what have you done with the real Tim?”

His grin widened, and he playfully punched your shoulder. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire and the thrill of possibilities yet to come.

You turned back to him, a mischievous smile curling your lips. “So… what you were doing in your office earlier, is that a regular occurrence?”

Tim’s face flushed a deep shade of red, his eyes darting away for a moment. “N-no, God no. Not at the office.” His voice was hurried, almost defensive.

You cocked your brow, the corner of your mouth twitching into a knowing smile. So it was a regular occurrence… just not at work.

He cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed but also a bit cocky now. “But seeing you tonight, dressed like that, the way you owned that op, the way you called me ‘baby’…” He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “I couldn’t wait to get home. It was only a blessing that you walked in and made my fantasy a reality.”

The confession made your heart skip. Tim, usually so controlled and composed, was nakedly honest in a way that made you want to reach out and pull him closer.

You moved toward him, fingertips brushing along his jaw. “Good,” you breathed. “I’m just getting started.” He grinned.

His eyes darkened, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah?” you teased, voice thick with promise. “What else you got planned?”

He smirked, “Dinner first. Then… well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Tim chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose. “I don’t mind waiting. As long as you’re by my side.” You smiled.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sound of traffic on the street. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

You leaned your forehead against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your skin. “Thanks for walking me out.”

“Anytime,” he murmured. “Hell, I’ll walk you anywhere.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your smile softening into something more sincere. “Then don’t be a stranger tomorrow night.”

“I won’t,” Tim promised, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I’ll text you the time.”

As you slid into your car, he gave you one last look, equal parts tenderness and hunger, and you knew this was only the beginning. Not just of something new, but something worth fighting for, worth savoring.

Driving away, your mind replayed the night, the feel of his hands, the way he’d looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. And with a smile, you knew one thing for sure:

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

tags: @jessewesmitchellfan @w1ldf1owers @mrsmaugic @jaded222 @cosavuoi-me @winchestersbgirl @bradleybeachbabe @whatasadlittlelife @thesupersecretboyband22 @vinos-things

#divider by v6que #the rookie #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford smut #eric winter #the rookie smut #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x reader smut

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girlinterupptedsblog · 5 months ago

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You love being brat and pissing rafe off because it turns you on

Pairing: dom!Rafe Cameron x Brat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, degradation, rough fingering, dirty talk, choking, slight dom/sub dynamics, power play, toxic dynamic, Rafe being aggressive and controlling, reader enjoys anger/roughness, cursing, overstimulation, possessive behavior, jealousy, (fingering), mildly embarrassing arousal, manhandling, general smutty tension — 18+ ONLY

You loved getting Rafe mad.

No—loved wasn’t even the word. It was your favorite game, your favorite pastime, and honestly, probably your worst habit. But there was just something about the way his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt, and how those thick veins in his neck and arms would pop, that did things to you.

And you’d been doing it since the two of you got together—pushing his buttons on purpose, picking petty fights, saying reckless shit just because you knew it’d make him lose it. And when he lost it. God. You could practically come untouched. His voice would raise, his tone sharp and biting, and your thighs would press together like it was muscle memory—your body betraying you every damn time.

It was embarrassing.

It was dirty.

And it turned you on more than anything in the world.

At first, Rafe hadn’t gotten it. He used to think you were just being difficult, being bratty because you were bored. But somewhere along the way, he figured it out—noticed how you’d bite your lip when he got in your face, how your breathing got shallow, your pupils blown wide when he’d call you out, snap at you, manhandle you.

He knew.

And the sickest part. He liked it, too.

You were his girl—his problem, his obsession—and as much as you drove him insane, he’d never leave you high and dry. Even when you didn’t deserve to be touched, especially when you didn’t deserve it.

Today you had really pushed it.

He was beyond pissed, and for once, he wasn’t playing. You’d been poking and poking all damn day—hanging out with people he hated, talking back, running your mouth like you wanted him to snap.

"Get your ass over here. Now."

His voice was low, deadly, dangerous. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, blue eyes like fire. His chest was heaving and his teeth clenched so tight his jaw looked like it might crack.

You swallowed thickly, eyes flicking down to his arms, watching as his biceps flexed when his fists curled. Veins thick and prominent. He was fuming.

You should have been scared.

Instead, you were soaked.

You didn’t move fast enough. His patience, already threadbare, snapped as he crossed the room in two quick strides, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him roughly. His hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in, forcing you to look at him.

“You’ve been pissing me off all day, and now you think you’re gonna stand there and play innocent?” His voice was venomous, his breath hot against your lips. “You think I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your brain was mush, your panties ruined.

He let out a bitter laugh, his hand sliding down from your jaw to your throat, gripping—not tight, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You love this, don’t you? Love getting me mad. You get wet from it.”

Your silence betrayed you. He felt the slight tremble in your legs.

“Fucking sick little girl,” he hissed, pushing you backward until your knees hit the bed, and you fell onto it with a small gasp. “You’ve been begging for it all damn day, but I’m too fucking pissed to give it to you.”

Your heart sank for a second, arousal turning into needy frustration. “Rafe—”

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone was sharp, and your mouth snapped shut instantly.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, jerking your thighs apart, not giving a damn that you were in just a shirt—his shirt—and panties. The way his eyes darkened when he saw the damp patch on the fabric made you whimper.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to be used?” He yanked your panties down roughly, tossing them aside. “Not gonna fuck you. Don’t deserve it. But I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll remember who owns this pussy.”

His fingers were rough, thick digits plunging into you before you could even breathe, let alone adjust. Your back arched off the bed, a loud moan ripping out of your throat.

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it.” His voice was low, brutal, his fingers pumping into you at a brutal pace, knuckles deep, curling in just the right spot. “You wanted this, didn’t you? This is why you’ve been acting like a little brat.”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes from how hard he was going, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars.

His other hand came up, gripping your throat again, harder this time, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. “You get off on me being mad, huh? Fucking filthy, baby. You’re such a dirty little slut for me.”

Your legs were shaking, breath coming in ragged pants, hips trying to jerk away from the relentless assault of his fingers, but he didn’t let up.

“You’re not going anywhere. Take it. Take it like a good fucking girl.”

Your vision blurred as your climax slammed into you like a freight train—loud, messy, shaking with the force of it as you sobbed his name. But he didn’t stop.

“Not done. You wanted to play, now take the consequences.” His fingers didn’t stop. If anything, they went faster, harder, dragging another orgasm out of you so soon it was too much.

You were crying by the time he finally pulled away, your thighs soaked, pussy wrecked, his fingers glistening. He wiped them on your inner thigh, eyes dark and full of possession.

“You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it.” His voice was still harsh, but softer than before, and he leaned down, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“And next time you want to make me mad,” he murmured, biting your lip, “I’m fucking your brains out.”

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bonbunzi · 1 month ago

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‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ bf!enhypen (ot7) as things my bf does

peer reviewed by my bf, enjoy :3 (this was so self-indulgent obvi)

heeseung ✶ late night gaming sesh + has at least two snacks opened and within arms reach + heeseung: "baby can you feed me chips while i play rocket league?" + lets you sit on his lap & attacks you with kisses the moment he dies in game + played fortnite with you once & had you obsessed for 3 months

+ you: "OMG BABY I JUST GOT MY FIRST VICTORY ROYALE!" + heeseung: "LET'S FUCKING GO YOU'RE SO HOT AND SEXY THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND!" + spends maybe a bit too much time gaming late into the nights + you: "hee, i'm tiredddd, let's go to bed" + heeseung: "just wait my love, i'm almost done with this game-" + you: "if you don't get off you're not getting cuddles tonight" + heeseung: "NONONONO OK I'M DONE GET IN BED LET'S CUDDLE"

jay ✶ cooking dinner + always finding new recipes on tiktok and instagram + jay: "we should totally make this for dinner tonight" + loves hugging you from behind, especially when you're cooking at the stove or washing the dishes + has a separate freezer for only meats because he needs "the gains" + jay: "love, did you flip the chicken yet?" + you: "no, i thought you said you were gonna do it..." + *fire alarm goes off* + for some reason thinks it's cute yet funny how easily you bloat after each meal + the both of you making jokes about food babies + *placing his hand on your bloated stomach* "how many months? boy or girl?"

jake ✶ playing tennis + rediscovered his love for tennis after finding his racket in the closet + jake: "babe, you have to learn how to play so that when my friends get girlfriends we can 2v2 and win" + is surprised by how easily you picked up tennis when you guys went to practice at the courts + jake: "holy shit why are you actually good at this? i'm gonna go try hard on you now" + you catch him online shopping for tennis skirts and other accessories for you + jake: "babe, i just saw that pink tennis balls exist. do you want?" + takes his shirt off mid-round because it's getting "too hot" (definitely not because he wants to show off his muscles and distract you) + every now and then he'll lose a quick set to you but doesn't even care and glazes you about your tennis skills

sunghoon ✶ getaway trip + suggested a getaway trip for your guy's anniversary + lowkey your sugar daddy with the way he paid for the hotel, dinners, your clothes, almost everything really + leaves the itinerary planning to you because he knows you'll always find the best spots + you: "god damn hoon, how much was this hotel?! this shit is nice as fuck" + sunghoon: "it's our first getaway trip together, of course i had to splurge" + absolutely loves the fact he gets to wake up next to you every morning + tries to secretly photograph you for "candids" + aquarium dates are a must-do + sunghoon: "hey look, this fish looks like you heh" + you: "wHAT DO YOU MEAN IT LOOKS LIKE ME IT'S SO UGLY?!"

sunoo ✶ long distance dating + sends you 'good morning' and 'good night' texts everyday + calls and texts you all the time + constantly sending you goofy ass instagram posts and tiktoks + always gushes about how good you look on facetime + sunoo: "you actually look so beautiful right now, oh my god. how did i bag such a baddie?" + saves every photo that you send him and makes one his new wallpaper + whenever he travels he always sends a text of the view captioned, "wish you were here with me right now :(" + loves doing virtual activities with you like watching movies or playing silly games on roblox + makes sure to call you before bed to debrief about your days

jungwon ✶ shopping mall date + lowkey hates shopping but doesn't mind when it's with you + follows you around the stores like an abandoned kitty + has questionable fashion taste + jungwon: "oohh what about this shirt?" + you: "i love you baby, but that looks like something my grandma would wear..." + carries all your shopping bags even though there's like a billion of them + came along for the food, stayed for your dressing room fashion shows + mandatory stop for a sweet treat (auntie anne's iykyk)

ni-ki ✶ painting nails + thinks you're so talented for being able to do your own nails + ni-ki: "damn, you did them yourself? my girlfriend is so talented" + helps you pick out your inspo + will occasionally let you paint one or two of his nails + thinks you could make a side hustle out of it + chats with you the entire time, even if it takes you four hours and it's 1am + you: "i don't know if i like this set...they're kinda ugly and messy-" + ni-ki: "you just spent four hours doing your nails and you think they're UGLY?! they're genuinely salon level expertise, don't say that they're bad" + loves getting head and back scratches when you have long nails

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ckret2 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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firelilyfox · 1 year ago

Text

Crush

Dune : Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: None / just fluff

You have a crush on Paul & he might have the same feeling about you

This is my first fanfic on this platform & my first about Dune. Please forgive me for mistakes (English is not my first language)

comments/reblogs are appreciated :]

If you have any ideas what scenarios I could do next then let me know because this is fun!

——————————————————-

The sun was setting as you finally arrived. It was a long and hard day and you are longing for some comfort, but everyone of your friends was busy with drinking and making fun of the believers like Stilgar. Even your best friend Chani was nowhere to be found.

Only he was there. Paul Arteides.

The One. The Voice… or some bullshit like that. You weren’t one of the believers. In your eyes Paul is just a normal human being with a talent for big speeches.

You never really talked to him more than three words because the thought alone made you nervous. Since he joined the Fremen two months ago you had a little … crush on him. And obviously you weren’t really good at smalltalk. Especially when all of your people have eagle eyes on the boy you wanted to talk to.

But tonight he was alone. Nobody paid any attention to him as Paul was sitting in a shadowy corner by a small fireplace, sipping a drink. For a second you wanted to turn away and just going to bed like every other night, but something tells you to do the opposite.

„Can I join you?“ You asked bravely.

Paul looked up with a little smile on his face. „Please do. I’ve been waiting.“

You hesitate for a moment, frowning but you sit down right next to him. „What where you waiting for?“

He chuckled softly. „For someone like you to talk to me.“

„Someone like me?“ You asked confused and watching his smile getting even brighter. Paul has that kind of smile, that makes you want to smile too instantly. All you can hope for is that the flickering light of the fire conceal you’re blushing.

„Yeah. Someone who truly dislikes me.“

You smirked. „What makes you think that I dislike you? Oh, mighty Duke of Arrakis?“

A warm laughter escaped his lips and for the first time ever you really saw his face light up in enjoyment. „Oh please don’t say that. It sounds awful! I only said it because I was in the heat of the moment.“

„I liked it.“

His laughing froze for a moment and he looked surprised. „You liked it? Are you having a stroke or something?“

„No!“ You laughed. „I really liked it. Sure it was a litte … dramatic but in the end you have a talent to bring people together and give them hope. That’s pretty impressing.“

He shrugged his shoulders. „Nah, I’m just good at telling people what they want to hear I guess.“ He hesitated. „Chani told me that you weren’t one of the believers and that you think this whole Lisan al Gaib thing is just bullshit.“ Paul is offering you his cup and you accept to take a sip. Immediately the taste of wine fills your senses. While you process his words you lick some of the wine from your lips and catching him starring at them.

Did you just imagine how his gaze darkened for a second or did that really had an impact on him?

You clear your throat because all of the sudden your mouth got dry again. „You talked to Chani about me?“

A crooked smile shows on his lips. „Yeah I did. I was … I wanted to…“

„I thought you were good with words?“ You say to mock him with success.

„I am good with words! But you have the talent to make me forget what I wanted to say and how.“ His eyes are locked with yours and you are able to feel how your heart skips a beat.

You wanted to say something but your mind were blank. Paul moves closer to you, slowly to make sure that you were able to stop him at any time.

„I like how you unsettle me“, he whispered. You could feel his breath against your lips. „Every time I see you I find new strength. But I never found the courage to talk to you.“

„But you … you always seemed so … full of courage“, your voice was not more than a scratching.

„I’m good at pretending“, Paul swallows hard and his eyes darted to your lips again. „Sometimes.“

„Sometimes?“ You asked.

„I can’t pretend that I don’t want to kiss you right now.“

You wanted to say something, but before you were able to even catch a breath his lips laid on yours. Soft like the morning wind in the desert. His hand holding your cheek and pulling you closer as you gave in to the kiss. Your fingers find their way up his chest and into his curled hair.

A little moan escaped your throat as he intensifies the kiss and as an answer to your reaction, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

„I think Muad’Dib is enjoying his time with the Fremen!“ You two were interrupted by some drunk Fremen men cheering and applauding from afar.

Paul and you are giggling like kids. Both with red cheeks and swollen lips. „Your people like a good show, mh?“

„Only if the mighty Duke of Arrakis is involved.“

——————————

⌛️Paul Atreides Masterlist ⏳

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #dune part two #dune movie #dune part one #fluff #paul atreides fluff #dune fluff #timothée chalamet #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you

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brandoscomet · 4 months ago

Note

hello!!!

SFW & NSFW hcs for p1 dio please? Thank you!!

Hiii!! Man, I feel like PB Dio is so underappreciated. Don't get me wrong, I love our mysterious vengeful diva Dio from part 3, but he was such a fun character in part 1 when he was just a dude who was evil just for the sake of being evil.

------------------------

Dio Brando (Part One) Bf headcanons!!

------------------------

SFW:

Lowkey? Doesn't know what he's doing. At all.

It takes him a while to get past the initial denial of the fact that he's fallen in love, as well as the fact that Dio hasn't had a positive relationship with pretty much anybody ever.

While he hates everybody and considers nobody as important as himself, you're the one exception.

He likes when you come to watch his rugby games/fights (like the boxing thing he did against Jonathan). As much as he feels like he doesn't need anybody, he's never had anyone really be there for him or show up for things, so he unconsciously really craves your support/approval.

He shows visible disgust when other people show romantic interest in him, and makes it very obvious that he isn’t interested.

He’s really possessive.

Assuming you stay with him after he turns into a vampire, things get very hectic. He asks you to go with him after the fire at the Joestar manor.

He cares SO MUCH about you. He's so apathetic towards any other living thing, but he would do anything for you. You really have this man WHIPPED. His worst nightmare is losing you.

Really bad in arguments. As much as he loves you, he's immature and prone to lashing out (as we saw in the anime). He grew up in a household where "love" was fighting, so it makes sense. He's really lacking in self-control, and something that really upsets him is him being wrong/doing the wrong thing/being questioned. He gets over it with time, though. You just need to be really patient with him and approach disagreements with his way of thinking in mind.

Speaking of arguments, he feels TERRIBLE afterwards. He'd do anything to make it up to you, though. He works hard to hold himself back when you two are fighting, but he's not very good at it at first.

He likes giving you things and showing off his abilities. His love languages are definitely gift giving, service, and words of affirmation.

He gives you expensive things because he didn’t have much growing up in an impoverished household. Now that he’s out of it, he wants to make sure you get the best and only the best. It seems materialistic, but he’s simply giving you those things to fill that void vicariously through making sure you have stuff.

He can be really awkward when he's trying to be nice to you. Again, he wasn't raised in an environment where kindness was valued at all.

It takes him some time to work his way out of viewing love and relationships how he was raised to view them, but he tries his absolute hardest.

He's not necessarily a sweet guy by any means, but he goes against everything he's ever known by being in love with you and attempting to be a good partner.

He asks you to become a vampire with him. If you say no, he doesn't push it but he can't understand why. If you accept, (assuming you survived the fight with the Hamon users) he most likely takes you along with him on his mission to go get Jonathan's body and plans for you to end up in the coffin with him. After all, you'd both be immortal, and he wants to keep you safe with him for as long as he possibly can.

NSFW BELOW!!!!

------------------------

NSFW:

Another freak. Dude is into EVERYTHING. Biting, bondage, s&m, pegging, frontwards, backwards, upside down, sideways, on the wall, on the ceiling, on the floor, in the air, you name it, he’ll do it.

He’ll talk super dirty and he’ll top you any day, but the moment you take control and try to flip the script, he gets so flustered and turns into a blushing mess. Especially if you catch him when he’s not expecting it. He acts all big and tough but if you catch him off guard it’s all over— for a few minutes. He takes control back soon enough.

He’s BIG big. So the first time y’all do it, you go slow. But once you’re used to him he’s gonna be going CRAZY crazy.

He thinks it’s really hot when you call him “Lord Dio” like the other vampires do. He definitely has a thing for dominance/superiority.

He’s really into oral, both giving and receiving. And he’s good at it, too.

He loves it when you leave marks on him/let him leave marks on you. It shows everyone else that you belong to him and he belongs to you.

He really likes it when you pull his hair or dig your nails/teeth into him. He likes the sting of it.

He hadn’t even thought about aftercare the first 1 or 2 times y’all did it, but after that he started totally pampering you.

#jjba x reader #PB Dio x reader #Dio Brando x reader #Dio x reader #part 1 Dio x reader #Phantom Blood x reader

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burningcheese-merchant · 5 months ago

Note

So there's this Shadowvanilla fic on Ao3 Im fairly certain you know about, and in It SM and PV link up to eachother's minds/feelings/souls via their souljams touching, and its pretty sweet since since they're on their chests, the two basically have to hug to connect.

Which made me think, what about the other beasts and ancients? BS and GC would be by far the weirdest imo bc she would have to touch her forehead to his chest??? Which depending on the size difference It could still just be a hug.

SS and WL would touch their weapons (sword and staff), which can comes off as distant or cold, despite the fact they're about to peer into eachother's very being.

ES and MF suffer because their's are on their forehead and their ancient's are on their weapons😭😭 imagine HB shield to EG's forehead, that'd be awkward af

I'm not actually sure what you're referring to 😅 is it Jambound? I think something like that happens in it? I don't really remember, I read the first 3 chapters a while ago and that's it haha (I really don't have the time to read fanfics, especially not ones as long as that one (it's like 15 chapters long now and still going with no end in sight, isn't it??? Goodness)). I never really did much of anything on AO3 tbh, I honestly just go there to write and post my own dumb garbage and then vanish into the aether again

Regardless. I always vibed with the concept of the Ancients and Beasts connecting/strengthening their existing connection through their Soul Jams. But the way I've tried to get around the fact that most of their placements are... cumbersome and don't really lend themselves to that (White Lily's staff and Silent Salt's sword, for example) is, I think of it as... Through the sharing of the Soul Jams, they're all already bound to one another, yeah? So do they NEED to have them be a component in the physical aspect of this? Do White Lily and Silent Salt NEED to have their staff and sword clink together to express that intimacy? Or can they simply embrace each other nice and tight, staff and sword set aside nearby, and their souls can resonate just with that action? The Soul Jam not physically being in their hands doesn't really mean it's left their ownership and they've completely lost access to its power, I don't think; we saw that with how the Light of Abundance refused to answer to Smoked Cheese when he took it, and how Golden Cheese could keep fighting Burning Spice for a while even without it (albeit weaker). So idk if they need the Soul Jams to touch so they can feel closer to each other. I think they've all been naturally imbued with that power at least to some degree and thus don't really 100% need the physical Soul Jams to facilitate that closeness. If I'm already super glued to somebody then not putting my hands on their belt buckle or whatever isn't going to make us any less stuck together ykwim

With that said I like to imagine BS's being particularly sensitive since it's embedded in his chest. GC can press her hand down on it, or lay her head against it, and feel his heart beating through it, if only faintly. Maybe it feels warm to the touch, and grows warmer and shines brighter the faster his heart races. Maybe his breath catches in his throat when she touches it because it feels different there than it does when she touches any other part of his body. Maybe it acts as a cute little nightlight when they're curled up together in bed. Maybe it burns hot like a coal and glows like the fire in a hearth when they're deep in the throes of passion. Maybe, as a charming little gesture, she actually will touch her forehead to his chest so they can listen to that soft little clink that sounds the little kiss Abundance and Destruction shares. Maybe a certain something stirs within them both when she does it, maybe not. But it's cute. They're so in love that even their Soul Jams want to make out. Lol

Also any excuse to put her face in those big strong man titties is 👌👌👌 in her opinion

#y'all just come let me know how Jambound ends whenever it does bc I really cannot be bothered to read all of that lol #i don't have the time or patience anymore. i just don't. every time i peek at it the total chapter count doubles #does the author actually have an end goal in mind or are they just belting out chapters until they run out of steam lol #don't mean to sound harsh. Jambound is wonderful from what i remember. I just don't think I understand what the point of it is anymore haha #maybe I'm just really sad bc i remember the author being a way better writer than I am/ever was and I feel worthless compared to them idk #it doesn't really matter. who cares. just yammering for no reason again #did anything i said actually make sense? i haven't really slept in a few days idk i can articulate my thoughts well rn haha #burningcheese #goldenspice #beast x ancient #that's probably the easier tag as opposed to spamming aaaaalllll of the actual ship names lol

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phoenix-writer2 · 1 year ago

Text

lipstick love

mastelist

synopsis: Percy loves red on you, especially on your lips.

College!Au

pairing: Percy Jackson x fem!reader daughter of Dionysus

warnings: fluff, kissing, lipstick, Percy being Percy, make out (but no smut), love, no prof reading, writing on phone because my laptop died two days ago, if I forgot anything say it

Note: I love lipstick and Percy Jackson. So I thought I this could be good. Enjoy it♥️

Word Count: 1004

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Everyone knew that Percy Jackson's favourite colour was blue. If you asked one of his college mates or a complete stranger from his school, everyone knew the answer. But what nobody knew was that Percy also liked another colour. One that he had only discovered for himself a few years ago. And this time it had nothing to do with the sea, Sally's freshly baked biscuits or the colour blue in general.

Quite the opposite. The colour red was very different from blue. While blue was like the peaceful ocean, red was like a blazing fire. And the reason for this fire was none other than you. You who made Percy's world glow. You who gave him a reason to strive. Not to save the world, not to please the gods, no, just to be with you, to make you proud. And if he was really honest with himself, he would bring Olympus to his knees for you.

There were two sides of Percy. The one where he chased after you like a lost puppy and tried everything to get your attention by constantly saying your name and turning his sea green eyes into puppy eyes, the side where he brought you sweets and treats for no reason, and the one where he was sarcastic and cheeky. The side where he showed off your relationship, kissed you and pretended there wasn't a whole class watching. Whichever side of him it was, Percy didn't care what the people around him thought.

Red was a colour for him, which reminds him of you. He always says "I love this colour" whenever you wear it. But what he loved the most, was the red on your lips. He loved to smear the red and leave his marks behind. Loved to see your reaction after he was done painting his lips and your neck in red. He just adored the sign.

"Hey Darling, can you give me hairbrush?"

Percy was shaken out of his throughs. Your voice was like musik in his ears. Angels melody in the air. He was standing at the kitchen counter, when you came in, preparing a bowl of cereal.

You were dressed in a high waist baggy jeans and a black crop top. Your hair was messy and Percy knew you just had awaken from your nap. He looked to his right and saw the wooden hair brush laying there.

"Sure love"

He grabber it and tossed it to you. The objective almost hitting you on the head when you were still to sleepy to realize that it was flying toward you. But lucky enough did you catch it before you got a red hit mark on your forehead.

"So" asked Percy as he watched you how you tamed your hair. "Where are you going at this time?"

You pulled out a mini mirror from your pocket and an all too familiar red lipstick. You always wear it, so it had become your trademark. No y/n without red lips. Which, if Percy was completely honest, delighted him.

"Just to Annabeth", you mumble as you apply the red color to your lips. Percy watched enchanted as the color stuck to your lips. As if on automatic, he pushed himself away from the counter where he had been standing eating cereal and made his way to you.

You saw in your mirror only you and nothing else, so you didn't notice at first when Percy did get in front of you. While you were completely concentrated not to mess up your lips, Percy did get in front of you. He was a bit taller than you, around 3 inches. You didn't mind that because you liked to look in his see green eyes when looking up. Still concentrated on your lips, Percy took the little flip mirror and closed it. Now your attention was on him and only him and this made him happy.

You lowered your lipstick and put it back in your pocket to look at him. Your boyfriend had this shit eating grin on his lips as he looked at you with adoring eyes. You sighed.

"Darling", you began, but his lips were already on yours. The taste of see and salt stayed on your lips and a contented sigh escaped you as your arms wrapped around his neck and played with Percy's messy hair. Percy, as cheeky as he was, had made it his goal to spread your lipstick. Not just on your lips, but on his and your neck too. So when he moved his slightly chapped lips against yours, he transferred the red color to his lips.

His hands rested on your hips as he pulled you up and settled you on the counter of the kitchen. Your sweet sense overwhelmed him as he detached his lips from yours. You little disapproving noise escapes you and Percy smirked. He lowered his lips again, but this time on your neck. You sucked a breath as he began to spread the lipstick.

"Damn you Perseus Jackson, what would Dad say?"

Percy smirked against your skin. "Mr. D? He would turn me into a dolphin for touching you and kill me for making out with his only daughter."

That was no lie. Dionysus was short lived as he found out you and Perseus Jackson or, what he liked to call him Perry Johnson, were dating. Percy literally had to run from the god, while you calmed your father down.

While Percy picked your skin with kisses, you looked at the clock on the wall of your college department.

"Percy", you whispered. "I have to go"

With a little pout he take if from you, but the sign was it worth. All over your skin were lipstick marks from him. "Let's see what wise girl has to say to that", he smirked and pointed at the marks. You rummaging through your bag to find your mirror to see how bad it was. A goan escaped you when you saw the work Percy was very proud of.

"You're impossible", you scolded. Percy grinned again. "But you love me." you sigh again before smiling. "Yea I love you."

And with that your lips were on his again. Maybe Annabeth had to wait a little bit, bevor you showed up. But she already knew that because she knew Percy Jackson. So she waited without a care in the world and a book in her hands until Percy was satisfied with his lipstick smearing, which he called lipstick love.

Don't copy my work!

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #college au #x reader #fem reader #kisses #couple kissing #heroes of olympus #lipstick #daughter of dionysus #rick riordan #jason grace #annabeth chase #hazel levesque

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iridescentxstars · 1 year ago

Text

-> 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 .ೃ࿐ [ — bangchan ]

➳ published: 13.07.24 ➳ credit: banner & divider: @aaagustd || beta: @wooahaeproductions ➳ brother's best friend!au || genre: smut || rated: m ➳ pairing: brother's best friend!bangchan x reader ➳ summary: it's been a few years since you saw chan, your older brother's best friend and the first guy you ever had a crush on. a few years can change a lot of things, unexpectedly, especially when a fantasy becomes reality. ➳ word count: 3.2k ➳ warnings: age gap (7 years), masturbation, voyeurism/exhibitionism ➳ author's note: i don't think i've ever written an age gap before like this so let me know what you think. ➳ taglist: @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu @sanjoongie @honey-andmilktea (please let me know if you want to be tagged in future works)

your thoughts and feedback are always welcomed and are always appreciated. let me know what you think of my work so i can continue to give works and know they are enjoyed.

It was an accident.

You need a change of clothes and know that your brother had kept some of your clothes in his room from your last visit, so you went to grab them. All you want is to get changed. All you have to do is head upstairs, take the first left, and head into the first room on the…

Mm.. mmm…

You freeze, hand on the door handle, mid turn. Did you hear that right? Your body temperature rises, thoughts running rampant through your mind as you try to wrap your head around what you had just heard. The sound is unmistakable even if you are trying to figure out whether you’ve finally gone crazy or not.

Ah… fuck…

Swallowing thickly, you turn your head tofind Chan’s door ajar and see the sensual red lights spill across the threshold, stopping at your feet as if tempting you to take a step closer. You’ve always had a crush on Chan, the actual cliche of it all not being lost on you when you finally realised and accepted those feelings while doing everything in your power to chase them away. You dated, compared everyone to him, and always managed to find your way back to him when your heart got broken.

Like that… yes…

At twenty-four, you are a catch. Beautiful, stunning, drop dead gorgeous but Chan never really paid attention to you like that. Why would he? Your older brother is his best friend and there is nothing that could come between them, their bond is unbreakable, and you? You’ve always been the rosy-cheeked little sister with your hair in pigtails, missing a front tooth, chasing after the teenage boys to be included. At twenty-four, you are a woman who has men chasing after her but there’ll always be one man who’ll take the podium alone.

Chan.

You tell yourself you never stood a chance because he’s known you since you were a kid, the seven year difference between the two of you being as much of a deterrent as the lisp you had when you lost your other front tooth. You tell yourself that Chan has never seen you as a woman and that the right thing to do when hearing the faint wet sound coming from his room is to turn around and walk in the opposite direction. You tell yourself that you don’t want to know, that it’s wrong listening to him without his knowledge…

…hss… ngh… good girl…

His door is open. Too open to be an accident. It’s not like he’s rushed into his room and slammed the door but it didn’t catch… It’s… open enough that from across the hall, you can see the foot of his bed, his shirt thrown carelessly onto the computer chair you can see half of– God, you need to walk away.

Yes. Smart.

You let go of the door handle and turn to leave, only to find your feet fighting against the logic being communicated from above. Keeping out of view, you stand with your back against the wall beside his door and clench your eyes shut as if it’ll either hide you from anyone coming up the stairs or keep you from listening to the filthy sounds coming from his room.

Catching Chan in the act was an accident but this? This is you playing with fire.

Chan had come back from the gym, having gone straight there after work and while he knew that you were going to be over, visiting while on holiday for university, he didn’t know that within the last few years of barely seeing you – you would have become an attractive young woman. It hit him like a freight train and while he felt like he was betraying your brother for lusting over you in his mind, part of him certainly liked the way those sinful thoughts were playing out.

You’re his best friend’s little sister. When you were thirteen, he had you drool all over his shoulder when coming back from the beach, he remembers doing your hair before the school play where you were playing the female lead, and he remembers sitting with you in the kitchen as you devoured three chocolate oreo ice cream sandwiches when you had your heartbroken for the first time. Chan knows as much about you as your brother does because he watched you grow up.

He should not be acting like this. He’s better than this, or so he likes to think he is.

It didn’t help that you were helping your brother clean his car, a water fight ensuing when Chan closed his car door and greeted you two only to see that your shirt was soaked. You looked so cute, blushing slightly and smiling up at him as you folded your arms over your chest to hide your breasts from his eyes that had made their way down. “Hey, it’s been a while.” He says, gaining composure after licking his lips and looking back into your shining eyes. You throw yourself at him and Chan chuckles as you wrap your arms around his neck, your chest pressed against his as you wet his shirt. His hands land on your back to give you a small squeeze. “Careful now, petal, Jax might think that you’ve missed me more than him.”

Pulling away, he doesn’t miss the colour in your cheeks darkening as your brother clears his throat and Chan chuckles as he lets you step out of his reach. Fuck, you felt so nice in his arms. Your body has grown into that of a woman with soft curves in all the right places and it’s only because Chan isn’t the type to push anything unless he knows he’s not mistaking the signals that he let you go. “If you want, we can clean your car, too?” You smile up at him and Chan hums softly in thought before returning the warmth in his own smile.

“Sure,” he passes you the keys, the words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue but he’s smart. Smart enough not to risk a right hook from Jackson. “I’m heading in to shower.” A simple lie falling off his soft lips – Chan showered at the gym. He needs to stop looking at the shirt clinging to your body and teasing him with thoughts of you. Escape seems to be the only way to keep his sanity. “We can catch up afterward, hm?”

He can’t get into his room fast enough, the door left open in his haste as he pulls his damp white shirt off and throws it in a random direction. He wants to erase the image of you from his mind as he runs fingers through his slightly messy black locks, trying to keep the image of you pure, sweet, innocent – failing miserably in doing so.

Where the fuck did this come from?

He’s always known, Chan thinks about it, he’s always known that you’ve had a crush on him because he saw how you’d behave when you started going through puberty and avoided being near him for the longest time. A girl who was always so happy to give her big brother and his best friend a hug, who would hold Chan’s hand whenever you crossed the road, and who would squeal with joy when he’d give you piggyback rides. You never shied away from his affections until you were fifteen and couldn’t look him in the eye.

He figured it out quickly but never once did he mention it because he didn’t see you like that. Sweet, innocent petal who shines as bright as the sun. That’s what you’ve always been to him and he thought that he’d always think about you that way until…

Were you even wearing a bra? The way your nipples pebbled against your shirt… “Fuck.” He groans, collapsing onto his bed and closing his eyes while taking deep breaths as if it’ll erase the sinful thoughts plaguing his mind.

He can hear the laughter coming through his open window and Chan knows that the only way that he’s going to be able to survive spending the rest of the evening with you is to get off before facing you again. He’s lying to himself, praying that he can believe it as he closes his window curtains and sets the mood to help get through this easier. Chan’s not one for masturbation, he’s not opposed to it either but he’s always preferred mutual satisfaction over solo pleasure, however, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Like fucking his hand while thinking about taking you on the hood of his car.

Ambient music plays, the hexagon LED lights set to a sensual red as he lays his head on the pillow with his eyes closed. His large, calloused hands run over his body, gliding along the dips and rises of his abdomen slowly before moving back up; he’s painting a picture in his mind, a fantasy that he usually wouldn’t play with considering he’s not one to be touched during sex but wouldn’t you be curious? Wanting to map out his body with the same need that he’d have to learn yours, watching to know where to touch, what pressure to apply, and committing every inch to memory.

To know it like it’s his own.

Mm… mmm…

He’s working himself up, fantasising about everything his mind can play as his heart races and his body temperature rises. The way you’d feel beneath him, how wet you’d be as he plunged his fingers deep into your core so that you were well and truly worked up. “Ah… fuck,” Chan bites his lip as he palms his erection, the hardness evident in his grey sweats and he looks down at how much of an effect you have on him in such a short amount of time. His imagination goes wild; his large hand being replaced by your smaller one as it rubs slowly over his clothed cock and the ache that comes with wanting to stroke himself grows with the fire in his abdomen. “Like that… yes…”

Chan has been one for delayed gratification. More so his partner than himself but it’s not unusual for him to drag it out… especially when his prize is on the other side of the door.

“Hss… ngh… good girl.” He breathes out as he grips the throbbing member wanting to be released. His hand pauses for a moment, so close to reaching inside and releasing himself as he opens his eyes and hears movement on the other side of the door. A smirk plays on his bitten lips as he realises you’ve caught him and tried to hide. He doesn’t know when you had made your way upstairs but it seems that your timing couldn’t have been better because Chan is only just getting started and nothing fuels the man more than knowing the effect he has on someone else.

If there’s no indication that you’ve tried to run away then he knows you’re caught up in him as much as he is caught up in you.

Moving slightly so that he can release his thick cock, the member slapping against his abdomen now that it’s not restrained, Chan reaches beside him and grabs the lubricant next to his bed. Usually, he’d use some proper lube but it’s been a while since he’s masturbated alone and a man has to use the resources around him.

Unless… fuck, his cock throbs at the thought of being buried deep inside you.

Using just enough to allow for a smooth glide, Chan wraps his hand around his cock and begins to stroke, groaning at the feeling and knowing that you’re listening. Are you wet? He wonders, thinking about you standing there in the hallway rubbing your thighs together. How long would you last before you’d need to feel some friction in between your legs, feel some stimulation against your engorged clit while having your nipples pinched and pulled?

How long until you’re begging him to fuck you?

You can hear the lewd sounds coming from his room and from the way he’s moaning, you know that those wet noises are his hand stroking his cock. You don’t know what to do. You do know what to do actually, it’s simply that you aren’t moving.

Escape. Rush back downstairs and tell Jax that you’ll get changed later for any reason that you can think of that doesn’t involve mentioning Chan masturbating.

Except you stay pinned to the wall.

Listening.

Biting your lip.

Imagining the sight.

“Just like that, baby,” You listen to the way Chan speaks, the deepness in his usually dulcet tones stoking the fire that’s building inside you. Clenching your fists, you close your eyes as you’re trying to will yourself away from the wall but all that happens is you moving towards the door and peeking around into his room.

Your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had already figured out that you’ll be unable to look Chan in the eyes again, but this is the moment that it finally sinks in that you will never be the same again. How could you be normal after this? How will you even be able to think about anyone else again when this is all that’ll be in your dreams?

Trying to avoid looking directly at his cock, your eyes move to his face, contorted in pleasure as Chan’s brow furrows and he bites down on his soft lips. Oh, how you’ve thought about the way they would feel against yours, the closest thing you’ve ever come to feeling his lips against you is when he’s kissed your forehead. It’s always been difficult not to wonder how they would feel trailing down the curve of your neck, the way his tongue would trace along your jugular as his hands ghost over your chest, not quite touching but teasing enough that…

A soft whimper leaves your lips as you clench your thighs together because now your gaze is wandering from those bitten clouds of lust down to his chest, body showing off that he does work out and take good care of himself and along his arms. You can see the shadows of his veins, something you’ve always noticed about him, the way his veins are always prominent in his arms and hands. You know exactly how his hands feel from the times you’ve played with his hands, trying to steal the bracelets that adorn his wrists only to have him wrap those large hands around your wrists.

Hands that are now wrapped around…

“Oh my–”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so loud, you didn’t mean to bring attention to yourself but how were you meant to keep your reaction subtle, quiet, when Chan’s thumb was circling the tip of his cock and you imagined it being your tongue instead? How were you meant to keep yourself from nearly falling through his door when Chan let out the deepest grunt as he rolled his hips like that as he fucked his hand and made you want to be riding him?

Simply put, how are you meant to remain sane when in this moment, you’ve lost all sense of rationality?

There’s no denying that Chan caught you, that you brought attention to yourself and his eyes are on you, burning with an intoxicating mix of sex, lust, and sin. He holds your gaze, not letting go of his throbbing cock as he moves so that he’s now stroking himself while he plants his feet on the ground and sits on his bed to give you a full view. Abdomen tensed, free hand placed behind him so he can lean back as he rolled his hips.

“So pretty,” he says, barely loud enough for you to hear it but the world has faded enough so there’s nothing else that could steal this away from him. “How about you come here, princess?” You take a cautious step into his room, and then another, and that’s when your fate was sealed.

There’s no turning back now…

“Yo!” You hear Jax call your name and you freeze. Chan pauses, eyes on yours to keep you glued to your spot. “Have you changed yet?”

It’s not wise, Chan knows this, it’s not wise to tempt both of you into the abyss that’ll consume you the moment you succumb to it but what is he meant to do? You look too tempting for him to pass up a chance even if it means being caught. It's a risk that logically he wouldn’t make if it was anyone else, but if he’s always thought you deserved the world, why not make you feel on top of it?

“So pretty,” his lips pull up at the corner as he takes you in. Your shirt is damp, see through and he’s sure that you’re cold and needing to change from the goosebumps erupting over your skin but it could be whatever is charging the air between you. He sees the way your tongue peeks out and wets your lips before slowly being dragged back inside and without saying the words, Chan knows you’re thinking about wrapping your lips around his cock.

Fuck, maybe next time.

“How about you come here, princess?” He uses his free hand, the hand that propped him up, to reach out and encourage you closer. It shouldn’t be making his cock twitch with the way you’re so obedient, so caught up in the moment that you aren’t thinking about anything else other than him – until the moment is hit with a cold shower called reality.

Jackson.

Chan watches the conflict in your eyes as you think about the consequences of this and while that should be his thought as well – he’s not letting you get away. He’s quick, pants pulled back over his cock as he makes his way to you, pinning you against the wall. “Where are you going, princess?” Chan looks down at you, his messy hand wrapped around your waist while his other tilts your chin up so that you can see the desire in his eyes. “Do you not like what you see, hm?”

You stutter, “n-no, it’s just…” wow, you’re adorable, he thinks to himself. As you shake your head and try to figure out the reason why this could be a bad idea, Chan pushes his knee in between your legs, and almost as if your body is already under his control, you grind against him. “What if…”

“Good girl,” Chan whispers, lips so close to yours as you try to say coherent thoughts while grinding on his thigh. “Give it a minute, hm?” You nod and Chan doesn’t know whether you’re agreeing because he’s right and Jackson will leave, whether you trust that he wouldn’t lead you into trouble, or whether you’re just as horny as he is and don’t want to ruin the moment.

Whatever the reason, whatever it is that keeps your back against the wall, grinding and making him want to take you right now, he’s thankful for it. It doesn’t take long for the front door to close, and your brother decides to carry on without you. Chan looks proudly at your flushed cheeks as you try and reach that high you desperately want. “That’s a good girl~.” He praises and watches the way it affects you, “now, I think you deserve a reward. What do you think?”

You moan, biting your lip, “mm, yes.”

Chan tilts his head victoriously, a glint in his eyes, “Yes what?”

“Yes, please.”

#kvanity #straykidsland #iridescentxstars ©#scenario ; bangchan #brothers best friend ; bangchan #au ; brothers best friend #g ; smut #group ; skz #bangchan scenario #bangchan smut #bangchan fic #bangchan fanfic

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juniperjellyfish · 2 years ago

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ALRIGHT NOBODY PANIC

BUT IT CAME OUT IN ENGLISH

youtube

I absolutely loved it. Here are my thoughts:

They should’ve renamed it “Fan Service” instead of Dream Team

I DID NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH I MISSED SEEING THE NINJA BACK TOGETHER

Izzy going on a tangent about Ninjago WilFilm and the other one that I forgot is amazing

That random girl talking about the ninja and their powers, and how Lloyd, “Despite being a fan favorite, the writers haven’t really-“ was so funny to me

OMG THEY MENTIONED THE HANDS OF TIME I was about out of hope for my boys Krux and Acronix

Seeing Nya’s new samurai suit was so good. It didn’t get enough love in Crystallized

Cole’s right! They don’t say Ninjaaaa Gooooo enough.

Zane being a little pissed about the cavalry was amazing

ELEMENTAL MASTERS OF SAND AHAHAH YES!!! I want more elemental masters

Speaking of which, the ninjas’ first reaction to time power stuff being those two is just so cool to me

Same with the little nightmare gremlin things. Lloyd thought they were Oni which is just- so cool.

Jay having a crisis is so on point

Kai and Logan bickering is everything to me. Especially Logan telling Kai he has a dumb voice

Jay making fun of Kai for losing is power is so funny. So plasmacoded

Poor Kai can’t catch a break. He just wants his powers, but NOPE!

Cole hanging out with the emo chick? Gays and lesbians unite!

PIXAL I MISS YOU! I LOVE YOU!! COME BACK!!!

As soon as Pixal showed up, my little sister started freaking out. I’m so proud

A little disappointed that she didn’t have any voice lines, but at least we saw her.

“But the Bounty always crashes!” CACKLING! YOU THINK THE NINJA WOULD THINK OF SOMETHING DIFFERENT BY NOW

Izzie freaking out over the fact that the ninja are there, and going up to Nya first just made me so happy. Because Nya, both in universe and out, gets the short end of the stick, so seeing Izzie go to her first was really sweet.

Seeing Kai and Cole on screen together reignited my passion for Lava Shipping

And seeing Jay and Nya together just made me so happy

Lloyd had a dragon!!!!! Hehehehehe

Omg I was so happy to see the og golden weapons again

I miss the bounty… the one Lloyd made just isn’t the same, it needs a dragon head and the tendency to die.

Kai taking to the kid at the end and fixing his crown was adorable

Now THIS is how you do a crossover!

So are the ninja just stuck there forever now? Are they like copies of their real selves? What’s the deal? Will Kai get his fire back?

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #jj speaks #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #ninjago lloyd #ninjago zane #ninjago wu #lavashipping #Ninjago pixal #Lego dreamzzz #dreamzzz #dreamzzz izzie #dreamzzz logan #Youtube

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ardentprose · 6 months ago

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The Newly-wedded Nelsons: Part 3

A/N: This mini series is dedicated to @fire-joestar! Enjoy!

Type: Foggy Nelson x wife!Reader; fluff, 18+

Length: 1.6k~ | 5 min.

Warnings: sexual themes; cursing; female reader

Feel free to message me if a warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: The first year of being married to Foggy Nelson is no less than a prime example of what it means to really get to know someone.

Part Three: Melodies and Memories

Your wedding ceremony was decently sized, with Foggy’s large family contributing to the high number of guests. It wasn’t a wedding to rival the stars of Hollywood and sink you into unfathomable debt, neither was it void of all the fantasy you dreamed of having.

Rather it was a compromise suited to both your preferences and at the end of the day, regardless of any minor mishaps, the most beautiful day of your life.

Not to brag, but your opinion of how perfect the day was is shared with the witnesses who saw you and Foggy publicly swear yourselves to one another for eternity.

(Foggy’s favorite legal proceeding by far)

Your wedding was talked about and fondly reminisced over for the next two months by those who attended.

Needless to say, your wedding day was filled with copious amounts of laughter, dancing and singing, with enough affection to put a blockbuster rom-com to shame.

And for those long, but wonderful 24 hours, everyone was in love with how in love you and Foggy were with each other.

But there comes a time

when public displays of affection become public nuisances to by standing witnesses.

By no means is Foggy obnoxious about his love, but he sure as hell is not ashamed of it either.

He’s adapted to your level of comfort in public and is satisfied simply standing beside you.

Still, the man has his tendencies.

An arm always finding its way around your shoulders or waist

A hand lying on your thigh

or brushing knuckles with yours if not outrightly holding your hand while walking the city streets

Shoulders bumping into yours so often you tend to glance around if you don’t feel the subtle shift of his presence beside you

And quick pecks to your head for greetings, comfort and outbursts of love.

Like when you are laughing the hardest at his story and he can’t help but reward you with a kiss to the temple in gratitude.

PDA is generally tolerated in your social circle, mainly due to the fact you two are so naturally affectionate with one another that most of your friends don’t think twice about it.

You and Foggy just make sense together.

In fact, Karen thinks it’s endearing every time you visit Foggy at the office and flitter about him like a butterfly around a flower.

Especially before big cases.

You worry more than the lawyers combined and will pull Foggy by the forearm to the side to fuss over him until the last minute.

You’ll brush stray hairs into place, adjust his tie with a firm tug, and brush dust off his shoulders for the umpteenth time.

All the while, Foggy gazes at you with a lovesick smile and knowing eyes.

The third time your hands go for his tie, he catches them in his own and redirects their path to his lips.

Kissing your fingertips, then your palms, he pulls you to step impossibly closer into his space.

“I’ll be fine.” He murmurs, nose brushing yours. “Have a little faith in us.”

“I know, I do. I just….you’ve worked so hard and I don’t want-“

Foggy presses a comforting kiss to your lips, pulling away with a broad smile and twinkling eyes.

“There’s no doubt in my mind I’m going to win, if only for your sake.” He kisses your lips again, squeezing your hands and steps back with a wink.

“Can’t have my baby anxious. What kind of husband would I be?”

You roll your eyes and wish him luck, trying not to worry your lip or your mind over your husband’s case.

And more often than not, Foggy returns triumphant, pulling you in for a victorious kiss and a teasing smile.

“Told you I would win. Did it just for you.”

“And our clients, right?” Matt claps Foggy on the shoulder, entering after him.

“Yeah, always, dude.” Foggy says, between swaying you in his embrace and kissing you over and over.

Even still, you’ll repeat your anxious habits every case, but if anything, it lights a fire under Foggy’s determination to win

According to Matt, since Foggy has gotten married he’s become a beast in the courtroom

So everyone wins.

Except on Thursday nights

Thursday nights are karaoke nights

And while yes, everyone does indeed love you two together and generally is supportive about your PDA

karaoke brings out the worst in them

because it brings out the best in you.

Foggy knew you were his soulmate when you confessed you were a karaoke fan.

He fell in love the first time you two ventured out with a group of friends to a karaoke bar and you belted out some of the greatest hits of the past decade.

Two of those songs being his all time favorites

Little did he know, you had invited him out with your friend group and chosen those songs specifically for him

because you were already in love with him badly, but didn’t have the courage yet to risk the friendship.

So instead, you drunkenly sang your overwhelming feelings for him through various songs like

Feels Like the First Time by Foreigner

Fantasy by Mariah Carey

and Love Again by Dua Lipa

This went on for months until your friends stopped agreeing to go out with you because all you were really doing was putting on a solo concert for the man you were in love with and using them as cover.

Foggy was so enamored he didn’t notice any of this.

One night he was so enamored, and drunk, that when you let the last note fade and lowered the microphone he wandered onto the stage

Staring at you with awe, jaw dropped and eyes aglow

“Will you sing this song with me?”

Endless Love by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross

You did

And the audience was….highly uncomfortable with the sexual tension between the two singers eye-fucking each other on stage

Then he asked if you would go out with him on a date

You did

And later, when he asked you to date him, he joking said “Will you be my karaoke partner?”

You said yes

And though he was joking you took that as a challenge.

Now, the newlywedded Nelsons bring down the house when they get on stage together

Obnoxious as hell

Yet highly entertaining

Leaving everyone rolling their eyes yet applauding ---

It would be remiss to suggest you two never fought in the first year of your marriage

Of course adjusting to living arrangements and working out social cues brings up some small disputes

But hardly ever anything substantial enough to last more than a conversation or two

The one time it was substantial, however, you and Foggy really got into it.

It also happened to be the day before your anniversary.

As most arguments do, it began as a misunderstanding but quickly spiraled into a full blown argument

Debating a lawyer was extremely annoying too

“Oh so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its ‘intelligent’ and ‘really cool’, but when I do it I’m ‘petty’ and ‘need to let it go’?” Foggy challenges.

“You’re not a fucking bird, so yeah, you’re being petty as hell.”

“It’s not petty, its concern. Why can’t you understand I’m concerned over how this "alleged" friend is treating you?”

“They apologized and it was a month ago!” You insist.

“Yeah, about that! Why did you feel the need to hide it from me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let it go!”

“I’m not gonna apologize for looking out for my wife. They’re not good for you!”

It was a painful and brutal 24 hours. But eventually, when tempers cooled and friends were sought out for advice, you realized your husband’s intentions were good at heart, despite your doubts about his opinions.

You sorted out the protectiveness from the fear, the concern from the insults, and the love from the anger.

Foggy did the same on his end and you two had an honest conversation with plenty of tears, apologies, hugs and reassurances.

Despite everything being water under the bridge, you still wanted to lighten the mood since your anniversary was the next day. Just as extra reassurance that you loved your husband, even when you got upset with him.

You come up with a brilliant idea

To search anniversary gifts on Tiktok

And after a few hours of scrolling you find the perfect treat.

On the day of, Foggy walks into a candle lit kitchen, with you standing proudly holding up your creation.

A personal sized cake coated in white icing

With your kisses pressed to every inch of it.

A bit of the red icing is still smeared on your lip, which Foggy takes the opportunity to swipe with his thumb once he approaches, sucking the sugar off his finger.

“What’s this?” His voice is hushed, the heat in his eyes saying he already knows.

You step up to his chest.

“A cake to celebrate our anniversary, and say I’m sorry once again.”

“Honey,” The endearment is saturated sweetly, Foggy’s desire quickly rising.

“There’s not an ounce of fucks left I give about our fight. You don’t need to apologize again.”

His eyes flicker down to the cake covered in lip prints.

“But I gotta admit, I am a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I’d prefer if you used your mouth to cover me in kisses instead.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You place the cake down a safe distance away on the counter.

Stepping to him, you wrap his tie slowly around your fingers before tugging him into you.

Your mouths collide and all is forgiven and forgotten.

You spend the rest of the night covering your lover in kisses

every single inch of his skin under the attention of your mouth at some point

And he tastes delicious.

The End!

Prev: Part One | Part Two

#foggy nelson #foggy nelson x reader #foggy nelson x female reader #foggy nelson fic #foggy nelson fluff #foggy nelson drabble #foggy nelson blurb #daredevil #marvel #arden answers asks

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pastapaint · 2 months ago

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My Robin - The Graysons Death

CW/TW for death. It’s the Graysons if you don’t know I’m guessing you are new to DC

Some people say that Mary Grayson's last word was Robin. I didn't really like that idea, especially going off this depiction of their death in the 2004 animated show being one of the most common versions to see. It makes more scnes to me she would say her child’s name, but would would be a situation where she does say that as her last word ? What was she thinking when she said that nickname for one final time?

----- ----- -----

The performers from the previous act were taking their final moments in center stage. In the shadows of the tent's focused lighting, 3 performers got into their positions on top of the post stands. The flying Graysons were quite a famous couple in the performing world, then came Richard John Grayson; born to John and Mary. Known for their death-defying acts and fame for not using a net.

Most called the young boy, Dick. While he’s only 8, he started gymnastics as an infant and trapeze work at 4. He wasn't encouraged to do shows, especially when they didn't perform with a net, but by 7, he hadn't fallen in just over 2 years, so he was permitted to do the occasional performance. He was used to the spotlight; he was a Grayson, born to fly.

Standing on the platform as the light focused on the ringmaster, Haley; Mary pulled Dick into a small side hug whispering to him;

"I can't wait to see you fly, my Little Robin".

The nickname was a new one, while being called ‘bird’ or ‘birdy’ by his parents wasn't an uncommon statement. The title Robin had only been used once before, when they first were trying on the leotards they wore now. Mary was a Bright Red and Yellow, which looked like Fire, while his Father wore the same Red paired with Green. Dick had a Red top with Yellow and Green throughout the outfit. He had hated the color choices, finding the red to be the most annoying of the bright colors. Mary laughed, saying he looked like a Robin; "You were born to fly my baby bird, now we know your species, my baby Robin". (My baby was said in Romani in contrast to the rest of her sentence. Dick was raised fluent in English and Romania along with learning other languages.)

John stood across from them on the other platform. Within a moment the lights were focused on Dick and his parents, and he took a small step back. The three all wore pale yellow rods counseling their outfits; they had performed twice before in them, but this was still the first season with these outfits and sets. His parents pulled off their robes as Haley spoke, starting off the routine. For the last two performances Dick would start the runtime with his Dad but tonight they changed it so his mom was starting with him. As the lights panned out to highlight their set, John leaped, flying through the sky, his skill so well mastered. Mary jumped, joining him on the bars. Flying to meet him, catching his arms back and forth, they flipped. She was facing Dick reaching for the bar closest to the platform when it happened. The wires flung up from where they were meant to be bolted down above them. Within a second, they came undone.

There was nothing to grab onto, everything was falling. She was, and so was John.

They were trained to pick up on the smallest of details, you had to when performing, especially when your life was on the line while doing so. She saw it, Dick didn’t know what she saw but he did react to her fear as quickly as it crossed her face.

The bar she was reaching for, her only chance to even try and get back to the platform, wasn't where she could reach it. There was nothing she could do, as her momentum shifted and she started to fall. She couldn't see her husband, but he probably noticed by now. They both knew this wasn't going to end well. Her focus quickly snapped to who was in front of her, what she could see in that moment:

"Dicky, my baby” “My Robin" she had said that allowed with that last gasp of air she had and then he was out of her sight.

"I'm sorry, please, please, please. Don't let this clip your wings. You were born to fly, my darling. You are a grayso-"

Splat

(Sorry, not sorry. I think it's funny in a dark way, and technically that was what happened.)

Bonus:

He couldn’t think straight; everything felt in pain, but it was so dull and numb that he barely cared. His sight was dark at the edges, and his head was pounding. Mary was turned away from him. Where was his arm? He had to try to reach for her. One last time, see her face, hold her cheek, her hand, just feel her. He tried, but his strength was gone.

His hand twitched. He tried to lift his arm, but he couldn't. There was a spike of pain and then nothing. It was just dark.

If anyone was watching closely, they could have seen his hand move just slightly as he tried to reach out his arm before his whole body went completely slack. She had died on impact; he didn’t suffer for too long in those moments, but just long enough to have tried.

No one would have been able to save them once they hit the ground. Maybe if someone with super speed was there, they could have grabbed them before they hit the ground, but once they fell, it was over. Fate for the future was sealed.

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moonsandmischief · 1 month ago

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Broken Once, Bound Forever Series

Chapter 4: Rage

Series Masterlist

Summary/Context: Loki abandoning you sends you into a spiraling rage that leads to a deep depression. You find yourself finally fulfilling your plan to escape Asgard, but even that isn't enough to calm you. Moving to Earth leads you to discovering your superhuman abilities and becoming an Avenger. You slowly better your mental state over time, exchanging your rage for a state of numbness. That is, until Loki's return drags up all of the rage that you had quelled. And the catch: Loki only seems to want to fuel the fire.

Warnings: mentions of the following- nonconsensual s*xual activity/forced intimacy, intense anger and depression, numbness spiraling, dark mental state, isolation, abandonment, hookups, bottled up emotions, enemies and slight mind games/arguments

Taglist: @soulpiercing

Author's Notes: Now we enter into the enemies-to-lovers trope... hang in there y'all, the fluff will be coming in this series, I promise! We're going to revel in the angst a bit first.

Word Count: 4,089 words

After Loki’s plan failed and he left, you entered the darkest part of your life.

You had known Loki wasn’t dead, and not just out of suspicion, but due to a binding spell Loki had cast to link the two of you. He said that the spell was simple, and your gut intuition would tell you if one another were dead since your souls were linked.

When Loki returned to Asgard some time later from committing crimes on Midgard, the rage inside of you was past control.

You were lashing out at everyone, completely inconsolable, and you spent the majority of your time alone. Your state only worsened as your husband was forcing you to actually engage in your marriage with him, pressuring you to produce an heir with him. You were forced into many uncomfortable situations that you didn't consent to, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You were beginning to snap, your rage consuming you just as you feared it might.

You only saw Loki once after he returned — the day they brought him in in chains. He didn’t see you, that you made sure of. You never wanted him to see you again after he abandoned you, and especially not after learning of all of the horrible things he did on Midgard.

You didn’t recognize this Loki, the one you loved being far gone, lost in a blinding pursuit for power.

Thor found you after Loki was supposedly murdered by the Dark Elves to inform you personally of his death, but again, you had a gut feeling he was still alive with the soul link. However, you didn’t tell Thor, not wanting to be wrong if, for some reason, the magic faltered.

You were still upset, nonetheless, to hear of what had happened. Your hurt deepened when Thor told you about the good that Loki did to help him, and your mind wondered if your Loki was still in there deep down. You couldn’t help but be hurt, having a feeling Loki faked his death again and wouldn’t be bothering to come back to you.

Thor also introduced you to Jane, who you quickly became friends with. You both talked for a long time, and you opened up to her about your unhappiness on Asgard. Jane expressed to you that you sounded more human-like than Asgardian to her, and that she thought you would fit well on Midgard. The more she described what it was like, the more you were convinced that your escape plan could really become a reality.

And that is what led you to run away from Asgard to live on Midgard, or Earth, with the help of Thor and Jane — and without a word to anyone else about where you were going.

You didn’t immediately become an Avenger. You actually spent about a year on Earth before joining the team, as you didn’t discover your superstrength until several months after your move. Just like Thor and Loki, you had the Asgardian strength advantage over humans, and also knew a few Asgardian magical spells. You were also very well-read and intelligent from all of the reading you had done.

During the year before being an Avenger, it was a rough adjustment. You struggled to navigate Earth for a while and had a hard time making friends as you worked on managing the rage you felt inside of you. Once you joined the Avengers team, things settled out for you, and you were relatively content despite echoes of your rage still plaguing your mind, especially when you learned that Loki was in fact found to be alive, and on Asgard with Thor.

You discovered your superstrength and magical abilities when you started taking self-defense classes. On Asgard, you had been given basic training by Loki, learning basic fighting styles and magical protection spells. You had never really needed to use it much on Asgard, as you were generally always safe from danger. On Earth, however, everything was different. You were on your own, and people generally had a lot more freedom, so crime was a lot more common.

You never wanted to feel powerless again, so you took it upon yourself to use the resources available on Earth to learn to fight. This led you to discover your abilities, which eventually led you to enlist as an Avenger since your strength and intelligence were such an asset.

Other than your work as an Avenger, the rest of your life was very complicated. You had two pastimes: partying or isolating.

You were admittedly messy for a long time, going from one extreme to the next. Deep down, you were just trying to find something to distract you from the pain of losing Loki and all of your traumatic memories from your life on Asgard.

Some days, you barely felt like getting out of bed, so you would sleep your life away if you had nothing else to do. Other days, you felt so restless that you could crawl out of your skin, and would go out clubbing or attend various parties around town.

You flirted with many men, occasionally losing yourself in a one-night stand a few times. You did limit your intimacy most of the time, not looking to get attached to anything serious, especially when a lot of your flings ended up becoming complicated.

It was all a distraction at the bottom line, and eventually, you stopped partying and dating entirely. It became too exhausting and seemed pointless, so you began to spend time with your two closest friends, Natasha and Wanda, or isolate yourself from any interaction altogether.

You had come to the point where you felt you were fading away, your true self lost in the background of your own mind and life. You were going through the motions, living what felt like a dream, an illusion, but you were shrouded in numbness all the while.

It was like you were stuck behind a wall of glass, peering in at your life but not having the ability to actually experience it.

Sometimes, you would break down, feeling as if you were broken. Every part of you knew you needed help, but you supposed it was your pride that kept you from actually seeking it. You knew you had people in your life who would support you in a heartbeat – any of the Avengers would – but you couldn’t muster the energy to reach out.

You supposed you were exhausted because of the endless loop you had become stuck in – distracting yourself and bottling everything up until you had to face it all, then not knowing how to deal with it, then self-destructing and isolating, and then going right back to square one.

The moment you looked into Loki’s eyes, suddenly all of the numbness had vanished.

It was as if you could finally feel the weight of the years of grief and pain that you had buried, trying to protect yourself. Now you could feel that familiar rage from before consuming you once again. This was the same rage that Loki was once the sole person to soothe, and now he was the cause of it.

What didn’t help your mental state was Loki’s seemingly incessant need to try to weave his way back into your life.

You noticed immediately the way he was lingering around you at first, and could tell he was trying to find ways to weasel his way into talking to you. You, however, avoided him at all costs, remembering his methods all too well. You had become an expert at his game, and he didn’t even realize it. You’d spent years being haunted by the memories of him, and now you understood his tricks more than anyone.

The second time you saw him was at breakfast the morning following the day he arrived. He was gathered with most of the Avengers, sitting next to Thor at the table as they all chatted, occasionally curiously asking Loki questions.

You refused to show him that he made you uncomfortable, keeping your head held high, but not necessarily seeking out eye contact or interaction. You distanced yourself from him, grabbing your breakfast and sitting at the island counter, your back facing him. You could sense his eyes burning into the back of you.

Natasha asked Loki a rather personal question, seeming to be trying to interrogate him gently. She was prying into why he felt like he should join the Avengers. You listened to their conversation intently, wanting to hear what he could possibly have to say.

“Well,” he started, but paused in thought for a second. “I suppose I will admit that I have realized many things about myself. Perhaps I don’t wish to destroy Midgard after all, and maybe there is nothing better for me to do than use my powers to be helpful to a good cause.”

All of the Avengers chuckled in slight shock at his response, but seemed pleased with his answer and commended him. You rolled your eyes, although no one could see you. It was a classic Loki response – he was only just being a crowd pleaser.

They continued to question him for a while, and each response only made you cringe further. It really seemed like he hadn’t changed all that much, still having the same charm and wit, and for some reason, that pissed you off beyond belief.

Just then, Bruce Banner asked a question that made you freeze in place.

“Are you sure your reason for becoming a good guy isn’t about that woman Thor told me about?” Bruce asked him, a teasing tone in his voice.

The room became deadly silent until Loki cleared his throat. You couldn’t see anyone, but sensed the energy shift into a tense atmosphere.

“What woman?” Loki questioned.

“The one you were in love with,” Bruce responded.

“That was a long time ago,” Loki said quickly, dismissively.

“He doesn’t like to talk about her,” Thor jumped in, obviously trying to save his brother.

“That just makes me want to know more,” Tony joked, and the others laughed in agreement.

But the silence from Loki was deafening, and the conversation’s subject quickly changed.

You didn’t move, tense as a statue. You glanced at Natasha and Wanda, finding Natasha’s eyes when she was already staring at you. She raised her eyebrow at you, as if to question your distance from the rest of the team. You shook your head, quickly standing up and leaving the room, not wanting to be questioned any further. You ran to your bedroom, praying no one would follow you, and no one did.

The next time you saw Loki was at the meeting that day, and reality began to set in for you that seeing him several times every day would now be the new normal. This thought only intensified your anger further, and you were finding it hard to keep your panic at bay. You steadied yourself as you always did, cementing your backbone and attitude, and carried on as stoic as you could be. You couldn’t just allow the man who broke your heart and ruined your life for years to hurt you any more than he already had -- he could not have that much control over you.

At the meeting, you could feel his eyes on you. For a while, you refused to look at him despite his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. You steadied your breathing and did your best to focus on the debrief Fury was detailing, but every part of you wanted to turn around, march over to him, and slap him silly for having the audacity to stare at you like he was.

But you wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction.

Eventually, as Fury finished up his last few notes and everyone prepared to leave, you turned around and found his eyes on you, challenging him with a dead stare. Your face was deliberately expressionless; you didn’t want him to know what effect he was having on you. That is, until he finally broke eye contact, and you smirked in satisfaction, turned back around, gathered your things, and made your way out of the room to head to training.

However, just then, you heard him chuckle distantly, and your satisfaction fell away, anger returning. This was all amusing to him.

When you got to training, you were practically seething. You met up with Natasha, your training partner, and faked being friendly and positive with her.

When you began workouts and training, you could feel all of your frustrations building, and knew this would be the way to release them. Physical exertion always helped with your anger, so you hoped you would be able to release it all and calm down after training.

Midway through, Natasha and you were doing boxing sequences when suddenly, Natasha stopped you, shouting your name. You froze, looking at her worriedly, suddenly realizing that you had been lost in a trance, hitting the pads on Natasha’s hands a lot harder than was necessary. She was shaking her hands around, then, trying to get rid of the pain from your strong punches. You ran to her, grabbing her hands gently to check them for injuries.

“Hey, I’m okay, [Y/N],” she said softly, grabbing your shoulders to make you look her in the eyes. “I’m more worried about you, love. Are you alright?” You sighed, shaking your head at yourself, at your mindlessness.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you said to her, taking a deep breath. “It’s just another one of those crazy episodes I have. I’ve told you about them before, where I get really upset for no reason.”

Natasha nodded, but didn’t let go of you as she looked you over. She pulled you into a hug, then, and you sighed in her embrace. She really was a great friend, and somehow always knew just how much space you needed. Sometimes you thought that her and Wanda understood what you were going through more than anyone else ever had, despite not even knowing the start of what was really going on.

“I just want you to know I am here for you always, okay?” she said, and you nodded into her shoulder. “You can always talk to me or ask me for anything if you need help in any way.” You nodded again.

“I know, Nat,” you told her. “Thank you, truly.” She squeezed you one last time, and at that second, you looked up to see Loki and Thor entering the training room. She pulled away, and you faked a smile at her.

“Do you want to finish training solo today?” she asked you, knowing that giving you your space to release everything helped you. You nodded at her again, and she smiled at you and nodded before going back to her training by herself.

You looked up, making eye contact with both Thor and Loki as they approached you. You smiled at Thor, going in to give him a hug whilst barely glancing at Loki.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Thor said endearingly, hugging you tightly before pulling away. You smiled up at him, bidding him a short hello.

“How is your training going today?” he asked you, smiling down at you as he gently patted you on the back.

“It’s been rather relieving today, actually – a quite pleasant session,” you lied smoothly, eyes shifting to meet Loki’s.

It occurred to you that this was the first time Loki was hearing you speak since he returned. You held eye contact with him, refusing to break it once again as if to challenge him. He only smirked at you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” he greeted you. The way your name rolled off his tongue made you shiver, but you responded with a tight smile as you held eye contact.

“Hello, Loki,” you said with a menacingly false sweetness. “Have you finally found your way out of your grave?” Thor looked at you with wide eyes at your bitterness as Loki only chuckled.

“I suppose I have, although it didn’t feel like it until I got to see your ravishing beauty again yesterday,” he flirted with you rather boldly, and you only narrowed your eyes at him, frowning.

“Well, good for you, but I don’t need your flattery,” you replied, and he broke eye contact as he looked at the floor and chuckled. You continued to stare him in the face. “Especially when you can’t even hold my eye.”

He looked back up at you, and you raised your eyebrows at him. He looked as if he was searching for something to say, but you beat him to it.

“Especially because we both know the woman you were in love with sure as hell wasn’t the reason you became a good guy,” you said coldly, referencing the conversation at breakfast, before turning to walk away from them and returning to your training next to Natasha.

You could feel his eyes on you the entirety of the time you were finishing your training. You didn’t feel one bit of regret for being harsh with him — in fact, you felt relieved more than anything. You had wanted to say so many things to him over the years, and you were finally getting your chance to release some of your thoughts.

And so, this became the new normal. You would see Loki generally three or four times a day: breakfast, morning meeting, training, and sometimes at dinner. He would usually try to flirt with you at least once a day despite your obvious intention to avoid his presence, and you would shut him down harshly every time or simply blatantly ignore him.

His persistence to talk to you only seemed to intensify your rage towards him. You were getting to the point where you wanted to just isolate yourself so that you wouldn’t have to see him.

And then came the day you were to be going on your first mission with Loki on the team.

Your task was to infiltrate an illegal weapons compound, take down the organization running it, and confiscate the powerful and dangerous weapons.

Loki simply would not leave you alone. You had picked a seat close to Natasha on the plane, and he had conveniently chosen the one closest to you on your other side. You wanted to scream, because not only was it irritating, but it was blindingly obvious he was trying to get under your skin.

As Steve gave orders to everyone, he finished discussing yours and Loki‘s duties, moving on to the others. Loki suddenly leaned closer to you and you quickly jerked away from him. He chuckled, but still whispered what he wished to say anyway.

You were in charge of leading a line of a group of Avengers through the compound, including Loki. He told you to let him know if you needed any help with navigation in the compound, and the way he said it, as if you were helpless, struck a deep nerve in you. Your jaw clenched, and you didn’t respond.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Loki said charmingly, smirking at you. “I was only offering help. I do not doubt your capabilities for one second, for I know you are brilliant.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him. You gave him a glare, and he only smirked more.

“Don’t be so harsh, darling, I’m only trying to reassure you,” Loki pressed. You sighed again.

“Loki, I don’t need your reassurance,” you said flatly, turning away from him.

“My apologies darling, I only thought it might comfort you,” he said.

You had had enough of his pretending.

He was flirting with you like he actually cared, and even if he did, it was aggravating you to no end. He had returned from being gone for years after leaving you, and as if he had done nothing wrong, he resumed his place in your life like it was his choice that he got to be in it.

“Loki,” you turned to him, a sternness to your voice you had never had with him. He looked at you in slight shock as you shook with anger.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m definitely not the soft and sweet girl you knew anymore,” you said, glaring at him intensely.

“Oh, I never remember you being simply soft and sweet,” Loki said smugly, his eyes traveling further down your body than you were comfortable with. You stood up suddenly, walking over to him and grabbing him by the collar, staring him dead in the eye.

“Loki, you were the biggest fucking heartbreak of my life,” you growled at him quietly. “I don’t wish to speak to you, so leave me alone.”

You released him and stormed back to your seat, staring down at your shaking hands to avoid eye contact with anyone else. You could feel several sets of eyes on you due to your outburst. You wanted to isolate so badly in that moment, but you were actively on the way to your mission. It took all of your self-control to keep tears from forming in your eyes, so angry you felt like you were going to explode. You reminded yourself to focus on your task and closed your eyes, trying to calm down for the remainder of the ride to the illegal weapons compound.

You’d thought your warning would have been enough to stop his incessant persistence, but it didn’t end there. For the entire mission, Loki felt the need to share his input on which direction he believed was best to go, even though you had studied the building map and knew what you were doing. You wanted to rip his head off, and when he had distracted you so much that you got lost, you nearly did.

Loki was suggesting another path to you without being asked for his opinion, and you turned to him suddenly, standing toe to toe with him.

“Loki, I did not ask for your input!” You growled at him, trying to keep your voice low. “Your incessant suggestions are the reason we are lost. You have distracted me so much you are compromising the entire mission, you bastard!”

A flash of anger crossed his eyes, and he began to breathe heavily.

“No, we are compromised because you wouldn’t listen to me!” He disagreed, and you growled in frustration.

“You’re just mad because you can’t boss me around and control me!” You hissed back at him, beginning to breathe heavily as well as you glared at him.

“That’s a ridiculous suggestion,” he shook his head, glaring at you.

You began to go back and forth, blaming one another, eventually to the point you were nearly shouting. The other Avengers with you had to split up your argument before your volume actually did compromise the mission.

In the end, the mission was successful, but only after lots of arguing. You spent the ride home in complete silence, refusing to look at Loki or speak to anyone, so full of rage you were afraid you were going to snap at any moment.

When you arrived back for a mission debrief, you and Loki were called to stay over. You sighed, knowing exactly what this would be about. Fury lectured the both of you about arguing on missions, taking missions seriously, and working as a team as colleagues despite anything else. He told you if you couldn’t work together, one of you would be required to sit a mission out each time. You both agreed to stop fighting, and he advised you to take at least two days to cool down.

You spent the entire two days in isolation, trying to self-soothe your building rage, but you were unsure what to do. Loki picking fights with you during a mission and getting you in trouble with your boss had crossed a line you couldn’t let go of, even though you knew you had participated in the fight too.

It was as if he were intentionally trying to get a reaction out of you, and you could not understand why. You just wanted him to leave you alone -- to stay as far away from you as possible. You didn’t know how you were going to survive working with him every day.

Something would have to change, and soon, or you feared you would be sent over the edge. And you didn’t even know what you would do if you got to that point.

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