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aealzx · 4 months

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“Hey lil guy! Glad to see you’re up!”

The disconnect between them being in a lair, and having the new figure distinctly not match who they were used to being in such a setting caused April to question if someone was actually there when she thought she felt a presence behind them. And Donnie had been so focused on Raph that the form had been ignored. Everyone knew not to suddenly grab him when he was like this. Other than Lil Mikey, but he had special privileges. And Leon as well, to a point, in very specific circumstances.

But this loud, rough, obnoxious, horrible brute certainly did not have such privileges. Therefore the contact and noise earned a startled hiss that quickly turned furious as Donnie recoiled from the touch, shoving the arm off his shoulders as though it were poison and retaliating violently with his fist. The man’s apology was interrupted by Donnie’s knuckles colliding with his nose and mouth, effectively knocking him away as Donnie hunched protectively over April and ushered them a few steps in the opposite direction.

“Donnie!”

“Mya-AH!”

Raph’s voice was a painful stab to Donnie’s mind, but he accepted it since it was Raph. But Mikey’s startled yelp as he woke from the commotion was a stab to the mental barrier Donnie was scrambling to create, cracking the form before it could even begin to complete. With the obviously distressed noise from his little brother Raph had formed his ninpo avatar around himself to allow him to move on his own, scrambling up from the couch and practically falling over the top of Donnie and April as his arms and ninpo protectively enveloped them. With the physical barrier now guarding him, Donnie released April in favor of wrapping his arms around Raph’s forearm, feeling a minor sense of peace as Raph’s other hand smothered half of his back in comfort even as he sagged to his knees.

“Dang it Casey! What did I tell you about him? Do you want to lose a finger?!” Raphael’s voice joined the noise this time, drawn from his previous location from the uncommon sound of Donnie hissing, and the impact of flesh and fist.

“I was just being friendly,” Casey protested, voice muffled by his hand covering his bleeding nose.

“Yeah, well not everyone likes to be manhandle- SHELL!” Raphael’s response broke off with a startled half curse as a blue static of energy brought Leon into the commotion, a drawn sword for the long distance portal fading to flecks when he noticed there wasn’t an actual brawl. Yet.

“What did you do to him?!” Leon demanded after a short glance over to locate Donnie and make sure he didn’t have any additional injuries.

Where Mikey would normally feel comfortable interjecting to try and diffuse the situation, he hadn’t actually seen what happened and therefore remained where he was peeking over the back of the couch. Maybe Leon’s anger was justified? If it was, Mikey didn’t want to scold Leon for being protective of his brother. He seemed a little distressed along with the anger though, which was definitely concerning. Did he think they would actually intentionally hurt them?

“Relax, kid. It was just a-” Raphael started to consol, cutting off with a slight flinch back when Leon lashed out at him almost immediately.

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Leon snapped, rounding on Raphael even as April wiggled out from the barrier of Raph’s ninpo encased arms to stand between the two groups just in case. “I asked you not to bother him-”

This time Raphael’s eye twitched. “Hey, I heard nothing of the sort,” he snapped, shifting his weight towards Leon.

“He and the girl were already here when I got here,” Casey added in a half complained attempted rebuttal as Don and Mikey reached the group from the kitchen, as well as Leo from the meditation room.

“We didn’t get the chance to tell the others yet,” Don explained, currently the quietest voice of the group. A strange blessing considering everyone else was yelling.

Leon made a slight hiss of his own in response, but didn’t seem to have an immediate verbal response this time as he was forcing himself to pause to take a moment to question his previous reactions. It made sense, Don hadn’t even left the kitchen after Leon told him Donnie wanted to be left alone. The quieter tone was also nice, and didn’t grate on his nerves. And for half a heartbeat he wasn’t sure why he was so upset? Or if it was even his nerves that were getting scraped.

“...April, I think Leo’s-” Lil Mikey whisper, shuffling closer to April after rapidly analyzing the people in the area.

“Is everything- WhAT HAPPENED?!” Mom April was the newest addition to the commotion now, taking one look at Casey’s dripping nose and having her anxiety spike. The shrill outburst earned a distressed noise from Donnie as he clamped his hands over his ears, trying to keep ahold of Raph at the same time. Mom April didn’t notice though, reaching towards Casery to check how bad it was. “Why are you bleed-”

“Would you shut up?!” Leon abruptly snapped, a snarl pulling his lip up as he whirled on Mom April, her voice feeling like nails driven into his brain. His brain?

“HEY! Don’t yell at my wife!” Casey thundered in retaliation, shifting his broad form to get between Mom April and Leon.

“Casey, hold on,” Leo interrupted, rushing forward to place a hand on their old friend’s shoulder to push him back. Even considering the fight they’d got into before, Leon was strangely antagonistic now. Was this a flashback like Don had mentioned might happen? It was so different from before when Leon had been lashing out from fear. Now he just seemed angry and horribly disoriented, raising his hands to his own head as though he wasn’t sure it hurt or not.

“You shut the hell up too! You’re all so damn loud!” Leon snapped at Casey, relayed venom lacing his words as he returned Casey’s step, refusing to back down.

“ALL OF YOU SHUT IT!” April’s voice unexpectedly snapped through the group, causing various levels of startlement, especially when she almost stomped forward to slap both hands on Leon’s cheeks and yank his head to bring his gaze to her. Raphael’s retort caught in his mouth as it snapped closed, and both brows rose as he looked to April. And when Leon tried to protest April just shook his head slightly and squished her hands harder. “That includes you. You’re spiraling off Donnie,” she chided, lowering her voice for a moment before opting for complete silence and pressing her own mouth shut. While she took control of Leon, Lil Mikey was taking care of addressing the others, giving a slightly pained and pleading smile as he pressed his palms together in a silent request for them to listen to April’s demand.

The blunt revelation and command from April caused Leon to suck in a short hissed breath, effectively silenced and decidedly shifting his attention to her. Her bellow had hurt, but her comment afterwards made it painfully aware why. It wasn’t his pain. It was Donnie’s. He’d just been lashing out as a projection of Donnie’s responses combined with his own desire to help.

Pursing his lips together, Leon gave April a single nod to show he understood, drawing a shaky breath and raising his hands when she let him go. And then, to the elder inhabitants’ surprise, Leon started making deliberate motions in front of him. A quick point at Donnie, still smothered in Raph’s tense form. Upturned palms with fingers snapping to grip at the air. One hand raising almost like he was catching something next to his head. Then pointer fingers curled with the thumbs and second fingers spread as he dropped them slightly.

April’s expression became saturated with worry even as she pursed her own lips. After a moment of hesitation she raised two fingers and shifted her hand side to side twice.

At that point Don drew in a slow gasp of realization. “Wha-?” Raphael started to ask before Don clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth, holding a finger in front of his own lips. Gesturing at Raphael to hold on, Don took a moment to turn to Mom April and gesture for her to take Casey to the infirmary to address his bleeding nose. She didn’t seem happy, but considering Don looked like he knew what was going on she didn’t protest. After she ushered Casey away quietly, Don motioned for his brothers to come closer to him as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app.

| It’s sign language. | Don typed where his brothers could see, even as Lil Mikey moved closer to Leon and April and was trying to make one handed signs back. | They all know sign language. |

His excitement was obvious to see, something between the two groups that was so drastically different. But Raphael didn’t find the merit in knowing that particular detail, giving Don a confused and blatantly questioning expression.

| Considering April told us to be quiet, noise must be a problem somehow. | Don typed back.

That was enough motivation for Leo to start working on fixing the problem rather than debating about it. Especially when he glanced at their guests again and noticed silent tears slipping from both Donnie’s and Leon’s eyes. Pulling his own phone out and typing in a note, Leo approached the group of three and held it out to them. | What’s wrong? How do we help? |

Leon ended up flinching back in confused surprise, but April’s expression brightened slightly while Lil Mikey looked ecstatic. When Leon started to repeat some of the motions he had done before, Lil Mikey being unable to explain, Leo shook his head and pushed the phone towards him.

Giving a slightly annoyed huff, Leon took the phone and rapidly typed out a response after rubbing the tears in one eye again.

| D is overwhelmed. He needs somewhere quiet, but there isn’t one. |

Watching carefully as Leon typed, Leo accepted the phone when Leon shoved it back and added his own response. | Anywhere quiet? |

That earned a confused look from the three, but after a moment Leon gave a hesitant nod. The ideal situation would be somewhere that was familiar. But that wasn’t going to happen, so the basic requirement was just to have somewhere with as little sound as possible.

It was enough for Leo to work with, and he started to head towards Raph and Donnie. His course was halted though when Leon immediately latched onto his wrist, grip almost strangling the limb. But Leo just turned back to meet his gaze, raising his other hand to rest softly on Leon’s grip and giving him a reassuring smile. He remembered what it had been like when everything was just too much. Every comment his family made only made him angry despite how much they wanted to help. How even the drop of water in a leaky faucet would grate on his nerves. How his siblings whispering made him want to lash out at them. After a stretch of time just watching Leon’s expression shift subtly, Leo silently mouthed ‘Trust me?’ to him.

And after a few flexes in Leon’s grip strength he eventually, almost reluctantly let Leo go.

The action earned a thankful smile from Leo, and he gave Leon a soft nod before turning back to his original task. It seemed he’d have to gain the trust of more than one brother though, for when he knelt down in front of Raph he could hear a soft growl of wary warning from the huge form. It admittedly sent a slight chill down Leo’s back, but he knew Raph was just being protective. And so Leo was careful to raise his hands in an inoffensive motion as he sat on his feet, remaining still until the rumbles from Raph stopped. Then he carefully tapped on his phone before showing it to Raph. | I just want to see if he wants to go to the meditation room. It’s sound proofed. |

The message caused Raph to blink in mild surprise, but Leo could see his form significantly relax. His hand moving away from Donnie slightly while Leo set his phone down was enough to prompt Donnie to open his eyes to check the surroundings for what was changing. And when he saw Leo so close he also let out a quiet hiss of warning.

Leo almost chuckled at the reaction, for it had lost so much of the venom Donnie had had before. It felt more like a sleep irritable kid weakly shoving away the hand trying to wake them up. Something about missing his battle shell and wearing such large glasses made him less intimidating in appearance. But Leo wasn’t sure if even the soft noise of a chuckle would bother him, so just gave a small smile as he raised a finger in front of it. No need to be loud. He understood the need for quiet now. And he held his other hand out in offer for Donnie to take, nodding his head in the direction of their meditation room when Donnie squinted at him suspiciously.

Neither of them moved for long enough for Lil Mikey to start shifting in anxiousness, raising a foot to rub against the back of his leg and glancing at Leon. Who then in turn gave Lil Mikey a slight glare before averting his gaze completely and folding his arms with a slight huff. Donnie’s gaze flicked to Leon for a moment, then slid back to Leo’s offered hand as he frowned slightly. Leo thought for a moment that Donnie would decline his offer then, but to his pleasant surprise Donnie’s hand released it’s grip on Raph’s arm to move halfway to Leo’s fingers. Then after a slight pause Donnie gingerly rested his fingertips on Leo’s palm, glaring up at him in a slight pout as if daring him to prank him.

Leo couldn’t help being guiltily amused at the response, and just shook his head with a worried smile as he looped his hand underneath Donnie’s, just like he’d done once before. It was a motion that caused Donnie to blink and inhale slightly in surprise, but Leo could see some of the wariness practically melt from him because of it. He could take it slow, and wait for Donnie to follow when he was ready. He’d already shown that once before, and apparently it was enough for Donnie to trust him once again. So when Leo shifted to stand up it didn’t take much for Donnie to follow. Just a slight pause in anxiousness and having to detangle his feet from the blanket and Raph’s limbs. The blanket stayed with him though. Haphazardly gripped around him and over only one shoulder with his other hand as the one was being used by Leo to guide him to another room.

The meditation room was blessedly dimmer than the rest of the lair. Soft candle lights that barely shifted in their steady flame instead of the blaring LEDs. There wasn’t much of anything else in the room either. Just mat floors with several soft, well worn cushions. The most important part though was the foam sheets glued to the walls and ceiling, effectively muffling the outside world, especially when Leo mostly closed the door behind them. Seeing Donnie’s shoulders droop, and his expression relax halfway, Leo felt he could risk letting him go now. Letting his hand slip from his loose grasp, Leo moved back to the cushion he’d been sitting on just moments before and folded his legs under him. Then he offered Donnie another smile, and patted the other cushion next to him a few times before closing his eyes. He wanted to make sure Donnie knew he hadn’t dragged him in there to talk at him. Just give him somewhere peaceful to relax and collect his thoughts if he needed.

It took a minute before Leo heard any movement, but it was only seconds before he could feel a warmth nearby. And after a few moments of shuffling sounds the room stilled to a quiet calmness broken only by two sets of lungs. One calm, and one just a little shaky from sniffles. Cracking an eye open just a peek to check on Donnie, Leo almost let out a soft laugh when he saw the teen had chosen to flop on the floor and smash half his face into the cushion while hiding the rest of himself by being curled up in a tight ball under the blanket. Leo half raised a hand to reach out and gently pat his form, but then decided against it and let it lower back to his knee. Apparently having someone sling their arm around him had been the cause of the issue in the first place. So it would probably be better to just leave him alone now, and let him recover in peace.

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I already had this part written when I posted the previous one |D that's why the fast update. I just don't like to spam more than around 1 - 2k words per post. Also I really like drawing pushed expressions so there was easy motivation to draw this next X'D

kudos to sokda-lal-ashes on tumblr, and lighthawke and Fangirling101B on AO3 for guessing right that it was good ole dumbass Casey being a brute X'D

And then mild concern for the rest of you jumping to biting. ô_ó My gosh the kid just woke up and hasn't eaten in half a day and you're all thinking he's gonna want to put filthy human in him mouth again.

And then a few of you went straight to murder and that's a bit higher in concern. 8 |

I did enjoy every comment though X'DDD it was a riot.

Fun fact I had 鹳之心弦 by Vanguard Sound playing on repeat while writing this whole thing. X'D

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #long post #writing #fanfic #disaster twins #donnie #april #leo and donnie twins #heavy headcanon ahoy #cross dimension kidnapping #rise + 2003 crossover

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yunjinkisses · 5 months

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hey author!! if you do g!p reader, may i request a kim minji x g!p lesserafim!reader gym crush?

minji and reader goes to hybe gym everyweek, and minji has been pining on reader for the longest time, but one day something happened (anything you want, i cant really think of one but, can it be smut?) tysm author! take ur time!!

KIM MINJI X F G!P LE SSERAFIM MEMBER READER

what’s ahead:,pet names,creampie,degradation,praise,dom minji,sub reader

enjoy!

me and my members aswell as newjeans’s members , we were practicing to perfect night , newjeans decided to join for practice , i kept sneaking looks at minji,all my members knew i had a crush on her , they’d always tell me how she liked me as-well but id never believe them

“alright guys i think we did really well!,especially you guys! you did super well for your second time doing the perfect night choreography!”

yunjin spoke up , and newjeans gathered together as we were all in the hybe gym room,everyone started to exit , but hanni was whispering to minji and minji nodded,i hung back to grab my phone that was playing the music connected to the speakers , minji stayed back , as hanni exited she gave minji a thumbs up which confused me but i didn’t pay any mind to it

“uhm y/n-ah?”

“yeah minji unnie? what’s up?”

i spoke as i picked up my phone disconnecting it from the speakers,looking back at her , she seemed nervous

“would you wanna practice together , just me and you,im having trouble with your perfect night choreography,and i wanted to ask if you could help me!”

i smiled softly and nodded

“of course i can help you let me set up the music again and let’s get started!”

i set up the music and started to show her how to do the moves properly

“so for this part you’ll wanna pay attention,you’ll have to move like this”

i showed her an example

“like this?”

she seemed to struggle a bit with this part so i grabbed her hips and arms not thinking about it , and showed her how to do it properly guiding her movements

“sorta but it’s more like this!”

i started to move with her to the music , accidentally grinding against her ass a few times , making me get a bit hard , so i moved away from her a bit still guiding her movements , not paying any mind to my hardness,i continued to move with her , she was clearly nervous , blushing and scared

a few more times practicing the same part , a few more times of brushing up against her , making me more nervous,making me stutter as i spoke

“u-uhm a-and you just-“

“hey y/n-ah is everything okay? your stuttering all of the sudden”

she turned around to look at me , i quickly covered my crotch with a hand , and looked away

“yeah i’m fine! l-let’s keep p-practicing!”

minji looked down and saw my covering my boner , she moved my hand , she was much stronger than me so it was easy for her to do that

“y/n-ah,are you getting turned on by this?”

“u-uhm i-“

minji wrapped her hands around my neck and whispered into my ear

“you know i’ve had the biggest crush on you for the longest time , so why don’t you just kiss me already”

i tried to speak but i couldn’t i just stuttered and she decided to kiss me, i kissed back , she brought me over to the sofa , sitting us down,her sitting on my lap,im sure she was able to feel my hard member through my shorts

she broke the kiss and left a string of saliva between us,her hands wandered up my shirt and groped my boobs under my bra , she decided to unclasp my bra and take my shirt off,aswell as her own,it was a gorgeous sight to see

“you gonna keep staring?”

“sorry your just so…fucking beautiful god..”

i spoke up and she giggled a bit , her lips latched to my nipple and her other hand played with the other boob , making me moan,my hand playing with her hair

“m-minji unnie..m-more..”

she detached from my boob

“hmm you want more? why didn’t you say so baby~”

she slowly took off my pants and boxers revealing my dick,she licked her lips at the sight , she proceeded to take off her own shorts and panties and than sit herself onto my dick , us both moaning,the feeling of her tight pussy around my cock felt amazing

“y-y/n-ah!~ your sooo big~”

“m-mhm!~ y-your so tight!~”

minji started to go up and down on me , making me moan,aswell as her , my hands went to her boobs to play with them,she giggled a bit

“m-mhm!~ you like unnies b-boobs?~”

“m-mhm!~ l-love them!”

“of course you do! stupid slut!”

her words made my eyes roll , i went to kiss her as i played with her tits , breathy moans between kisses,she pulled away to speak

“your so needy! such a good girl!~ such a needy princess!~”

“m-mhm!~ all y-yours!~”

“that’s right! all mine!~ this dick is all mine!”

she started to go faster on me,making me feel closer to cumming

“f-fuck minji - unnie!!! gonna c-cum~”

“me too baby,come on princess,fill unnie up like a good girl!~”

her words sent me over the edge , i gripped her hips sending my cum deep inside her,my head flew back , us both moaning loudly

“that feel good baby?”

“god yes..”

minji spoke and i replied , kissing my cheek as she hopped off me , grabbing our clothes for us to get dressed , we walked out the room for hanni and danielle to be outside listening to us

“oh u-uhm we were just!”

“we know what you two were doing,hope you guys had fun doing eachother!”

#kpop gg #yunjinkisses #wlw ns/fw #girl groups #newjeans #kim minji #newjeans minji #kim minji smut #minji x reader #minji #newjean smut #nwjns #nwjns minji

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jolenes-doppelganger · 27 days

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Gentle Hands (Part Three)

Stalker Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: Fights, make-ups, another fight, a badly arranged foreplay and cameras. What does good for Ilsa really look like? And what cost does it come at?

Warnings: Allusions to a physical fight between R and Ilsa, angst, losing Mario Kart because of Toad, brief panty sniffing (Ilsa you creep), bad foreplay that results in hurt feelings (brief), consensual SMUT (oral Ilsa recieving, masturbation via partner (Ilsa touches R), sweet talking, breast fondling, Ilsa being a creep with cameras).

A/N: Took a break mid-smut sequence to complete tasks for the big green bird. He is sated (for now).

Word Count: 5.4k (Eat up gremmies)

It had been a week since Ilsa had abducted you. Ilsa, not Lisa. She insisted that you call her by her ‘correct’ name now that it was just the two of you. Ilsa was horrendously efficient at erasing your past life. She sent in your urgent notice of resignation the morning after she’d taken you into her apartment. She’d also installed brand new locks inside your home, all electronic, finger-print coded locks. They were high-tech, you couldn’t fake it with a thumb print on a piece of tape. She allowed you to move between her house and your home, mostly to move your things into her town home. You were never allowed outside without her knowledge. You also couldn’t open any windows without an alarm going off. Every single exit in the home was barred, and every single moment of your life was spent with Ilsa.

“Darling, can you make us a cup of tea?” Ilsa asked, brow furrowed as she cracked into another bank account.

Ilsa’s new hobby was re-establishing her wire transfer network. By this point you knew she was a former intelligence operative, or more likely a seasoned criminal. She had connections and skills that didn’t make sense otherwise. Your new hobby was Mario Kart and baking. You cooked incessantly, as it was the only thing that felt ‘normal’. That and making lattes. You could really only make two for yourself in a day. Ilsa wasn’t fond of you increasing your caffeine intake more than what she deemed ‘healthy’. She was so fond of ‘healthy’ endeavours. So you worked out with her in the mornings. She was teaching you how to box. It was therapeutic, getting to take out all of your frustrations on the person who was the root of them. Mostly. Ilsa had a nasty habit of getting too into it and treating you too roughly.

“Darling?”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m on it.”

You moved into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and preparing the two mugs. Ilsa liked her coffee bland. Cream. Zero sugar. In Ilsa’s mind, sugar was the devil. Mostly because she made up for it in alcohol. With the cup of black tea with just a splash of cream, Ilsa was back at work. You left her side, hoping to skip out on the mandatory ‘morning couple time’.

‘Ah, ah. Not so fast. You come back here.” Ilsa chuckled.

You sat back down next to her.

“Why so frigid, hmm? Come, sit in my lap for a bit.” Ilsa gave a sly smirk.

You remained put, and Ilsa sighed, giving a playful pout.

“You’re no fun.”

Crossing your arms and ignoring her comments felt like second-nature at this point. You were upset with her, as was reasonably so. She’d abducted you and disconnected you from the outside world. It was infuriating, watching her snip off the connections you had to society, to your family bit by carefully timed bit. But last night was the worst. Your Mom had called. You’d tried to send her some sort of message that things weren’t fine, that you were being held against your will, but Ilsa wouldn’t have it.

‘Are you still upset about Bella?”

At the sound of her name, the cat let out a soft ‘meh’ sound, stretching out her fur-encased arms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Holding a knife to my cat’s throat? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isa sighed softly, giving you a soft glance that said, ‘I know, I know’. Her eyebrow and lip were still taped up.

“I paid for it, I knew that it wasn’t fair to you, and I paid for it.”

Moreso, she’d let you hit her. You’d lost count of how many punches you’d given before she finally restrained you. There was a bruise on one of your knuckles. You didn’t feel vindicated, the contrary. Hitting her felt weak. She was stronger than you, quicker, skilled in a thousand ways that you weren’t, and she’d taken the punches until she deemed that it was enough.

“I’m angry.” you huffed. “Why couldn’t you have used a different method.”

“Like what? Holding a knife to your throat? We both know I’d never mean it. I couldn’t intentionally harm you, but if it came down to it, I’d do a lot of awful things to keep you around.”

“I thought you liked Bella!”

“I do, princess, I do. It’s just that I needed you to not raise suspicion.” Ilsa sighed.

“Yeah, not tell the fucking truth about what’s going on.” you spat back.

“I know you don’t like this life, but I have given so much to ensure it’s better than your old-”

“Better how? It was my life before! Mine! It wasn’t perfect, but at least I was working towards a better future with honest work!”

Ilsa laughed.

“Oh, and what I do isn’t honest?”

“I don’t steal.”

“No, you were stolen from. You were spending hours working one of the most difficult, draining jobs for sub-par pay and zero safety net aside from the government’s shitty one.” Ilsa scoffed. “I steal, sure. But it’s from people who steal from people like you. And I steal a small amount from a lot of wicked, evil people. And I’m using it to protect something good.”

“Exhausting, isn’t it.”

“Oh come off it.” Ilsa groaned.

“Your personal fable is maintained at the cost of morality-”

“Do you really think I have what society considers to be ‘morals’?” Ilsa cut you off.

“No.”

“Then stop wasting your time. You’re upset, you’re angry, and I’m not doing anything to make it better. You’re not getting your old life back, accept it and move on.”

Ilsa reached for her desk, grabbing a cherry vape and inhaling slowly. She pushed out a series of rings, momentarily focusing on vape tricks.

“I’m not in the mood for couple time.”

You made it about three paces out of the office before Ilsa’s arms were around your waist and restraining you. She pulled you back into her office, attaching a handcuff from her chair to your wrist.

“This is supposed to make me hate you any less?”

“Forced proximity does wonders for the mind.” Ilsa mused, taking another hit off of her vape.

“So Stockholm syndrome?”

Ilsa chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“The academic.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And look where it got me? Working at a damn coffee shop.”

Ilsa hummed, amused by the interaction.

“You know what you need?”

“My freedom.” you cracked back.

“Day drinking.” Ilsa rolled her eyes. “This little mood swing would just fade away with some alcohol.”

“I’m not getting drunk so you can fuck me.”

The former agent groaned, turning off her computer. She wouldn’t deny it. She did want that, but not while you were intoxicated. She had some morals.

“I can’t work in such a hostile work environment.”

“Wasn’t your entire thing working in hostile environments?” you smirked, poking at her ex-operative past.

“And I’d never go back.” Ilsa sighed.

She was nice enough to unfasten your cuff, giving you free reign, or so you thought.

“No, no, no.” Ilsa chided, pulling you back into her body. “You and I are going to do something fun.”

You were out of one-liners at this point. In all honesty, it was exhausting being angry with her. That’s all you were, angry with her. She led you through the kitchen, and then she opened the door to the garden. It was a decent day, but chilly. Ilsa shoved a sweatshirt over your head, which you begrudgingly put on all the way. The fresh air felt good.

“Bella, goddammit!” Ilsa swore, the fat tuxedo evading the dirty blonde before she could catch her once more.

“Just let her outside. She deserves it as much as I do.”

Ilsa sighed, shaking her head.

“Only because you’re upset with me.”

“Kills you, doesn’t it?” you snarked back on instinct.

But the barbed jab you expected in return never came. There was just silence, which Ilsa broke by clearing her throat. You’d inadvertently hit the nail on the head. She was upset, and she was anxious. You’d forgotten how much she did care. Ilsa didn’t just abduct someone because she could. She wasn’t a ‘because I can’ person. And the arguments you’d been having all morning, all week really, they were upsetting.

“I’m not going to feel bad just because you’re playing the victim card.”

“Stop. Just fucking stop.” Ilsa’s voice broke. “Get your ass back inside.”

“Ilsa, I’m-”

“No, nope. Inside.”

You walked inside the house, shutting the door behind you. You never did get a good glance at Ilsa’s face, but you didn’t need to. Through the screen door, you saw her slump to her knees on the back door steps, and her shoulders heaved. And there was that guilt again. Bella had slunk inside with you again, pawing at the door in confusion.

“I can’t let you out.” you whispered.

“Meh.” she protested.

“It was your own fault, you should’ve stayed outside.”

The walk upstairs to yours and Ilsa’s room felt a lot harder than was reasonable. You knew that it wasn’t all that rational to feel guilty about tormenting someone who was equally, if not exceeding you in torment. But you could empathise with her pain. She was doing a lot for you. And even though you couldn’t go outside without her, even leave the garden, she was doing a lot for you. The food in the fridge, you didn’t pay for. The furniture and games you wound down with hadn’t been out of your pocket, and the skills she was teaching you, the boxing, the german, the little tricks for hacking, those were all things she’d given you for nothing much, other than a few small requests.

Out of the second story hallway window, you could see Ilsa leaving the garden, slipping into her Benz. She’d be gone for hours, probably. And your time felt… Hollow. Mario Kart was repetitive and infuriating. Language learning with help from the green bird didn’t amount to shit, even with Ilsa’s super membership. Nothing you did was fulfilling. So you did as your cat did, slumping into the bed and taking a nap. But still, that didn’t feel right. With great mortification and a small degree of realised irony, you picked up Ilsa’s pillow and buried your face into it. Then, and only then, did you sleep.

<->

Ilsa didn’t do anything but drive. She ended up in a farmer’s field, sitting behind a hedge and just fucking fuming. She was mad. Mad at herself, mad at you, mad at her life. In another life she could have pursued you normally. In another life where she could walk into a supermarket at rush hour without fear of an anxiety episode, she could have struck up a conversation with you there. But she wasn’t normal. And so she’d resort to abnormal methods to get you, because something with you was better than nothing.

“Bella, you silly girl.” Ilsa sighed as she walked into the house, blocking the fat tuxedo from getting out.

It was quiet, too quiet for Ilsa’s tastes. She rushed through the house, looking for you in every room until she eventually burst into the bedroom. You were curled up, sleeping. Ilsa slumped against the doorframe, letting out an audible sigh of relief. And… Was that her pillow? Jesus Christ, you were precious. Ilsa took off her shoes and her overcoat. She was wet from the rain, so everything came off, aside from underwear and a sports bra. Slipping into bed with you felt so right. Ilsa needed that physical contact with you, and she’d sneak it where she could. The pillow was replaced by her arms, a delicate act of shifting. You smelled so good to Ilsa.

“Oh… Princess.” Ilsa whispered, almost ready to cry again.

This week had been the most infuriating week of her life. You almost never touched Ilsa, unless it was in a boxing set-up. Training you had been a lovely way to break tension. She could guide your posture, adjusting your body with her hands. Showers were the best thing for Ilsa. She’d let you finish up a few exercises while she showered, using the head to relieve the ceaseless aching that came when she was too close to you for too long. And the emotional whiplash. Ilsa was fatigued of the constant bickering, arguing and overall tension between the two of you; not the sexy kind. Drugging you again was a thought that flicked through her head daily. Just long enough to cuddle you, to breathe in the smell of your skin without the threat of you waking up.

“Mmph.” she heard you softly complain.

You shifted your body, wiggling deeper into her arms. With every exhale, your breath would ghost over her neck and it was driving her insane.

“Princess, don’t tease, I know-”

“Shut up.” you mumbled, clumsily pawing at her face to get her to stop talking.

Ilsa let out a startled laugh. She’d forgotten you were a light sleeper.

“Shh… Let me sleep.” you continued to complain.

Ilsa rolled her eyes, holding you closer, half-listening to your complaints.

“Let me hold you.”

And this time you didn’t push her off. She was warm, body temperature raised from her run, or wherever she’d been. She smelled like hay, for whatever reason. Bella, sensing the cuddle puddle, hopped up on the bed, sniffing around the two of you, turning about four or five times before she slumped into the bed, yawning.

“Are you still upset with me?” Ilsa eventually asked.

“A little.” you admitted. “It would be hard not to be. I don’t like feeling guilty for making you upset.”

“Because you want to hurt me for what I’m doing to you?”

You let a frustrated sigh. When she put it like that, it made you sound like an asshole. It was complicated.

“I don’t like that I can feel myself starting to like you. Because you’re not mean, you don’t hurt me, and you take so much of my shit. I’d be lucky to find someone like you, but you’ve taken my entire life.”

Ilsa hummed, shifting you in her arms. She took another deep breath, and you felt her thigh graze your pant leg.

“Are you just in a bra and panties? Seriously?”

And just like that, whatever understanding you were going to reach disappeared. She was a constant voyeur. When you baked, when you read, and you suspected when you were changing. You’d never seen one of the cameras, but you were sure they were there somewhere. Hence you hadn’t been masturbating at all. It was infuriating, the lead up to your period didn’t make it too difficult, but still. A week with nothing?

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ilsa sat up, trying to pull you back. “Stay on the bed, I’ll go change. My clothes were wet, Jesus Christ.”

Ilsa grabbed a change of clothes, shutting the bathroom door behind her. She stripped completely, mumbling something under her breath about ‘not catching a damn break’. That’s when she saw them. You never left your clothes out anymore, shoving them in the hamper. You were religious about home cleanliness with nothing else to do, so most laundry was collected and washed. You’d left your panties out after your morning shower, probably because you still had Bella on your mind.

“I think I’m just going to take a shower, my hair’s all wet.” Ilsa called from inside the bathroom.

“Yeah, whatever.” you called back.

Ilsa turned on the shower, stepping in the water for a moment, then stepping right back out. She needed her body wet to maintain the lie, long enough for her to enjoy the remnants left in your panties.

“Oh my.” Ilsa whispered to herself.

Her body heated up almost immediately, nasty thought after more damnable nasty thought flicking through her head. She wanted to pin you to the bed so badly. What would you smell like at the source? And the taste? How rich it would be, how debaucherous and unsoiled. Not these cloth remnants. She dropped the cloth garment to the floor, staggering back into the shower. She needed to focus, to breathe, to run her fingers over the dripping wet seam between her labia. It wasn’t enough. When had this stopped being enough?

<->

You hadn’t seen Ilsa since she’d gotten in the shower. You were fully awake by the time she had left the bed, and there was no sense hanging around. Not for her, anyways. By this point in the mid-afternoon, day drinking seemed excusable. So you slipped into the basement and found one of Ilsa’s wine bottles. You weren’t a wine drinker. Especially dark wines. But alcohol was alcohol. A glass of wine and Mario Kart on a weekday afternoon? The lap of luxury, truly.

“Hey.” you heard a breathy sigh near your ear.

“Hi Ilsa. I’m busy.”

The woman sat next to you. She smelled nice. Vanilla cashmere lotion. How long had she been grooming for? Not that you cared.

“Can you be a little less busy for me?” Ilsa asked.

You turned, looking at her full on as you paused the game. You opened your mouth to snark at her, but she looked… Good. Her hair was a little damp and she’d taken pains to get herself clean.

“Umm, what is this about?” you gestured to her sweats that were just a little too tight.

Ilsa took a deep breath in.

“I want to spend some time with you. Do you mind if I pour myself a glass of wine?”

“It’s your house and your wine, don’t ask me for permission.” you shrugged.

Ilsa chuckled, a breathy sound. What was up with her. You didn’t care, you just unpaused the game, returning to the high stakes race that was ‘Rainbow Road’. Ilsa busied herself, pouring herself a glass of wine. She settled beside you, eyeing the glass of wine you’d barely touched.

“I keep thinking…” Ilsa whispered in your ear. “About that night you came over with my friends…”

She was distracting, and you had to fight to stay on course.

“Ilsa, please, I’m trying to get a trophy right now.”

Ilsa had other plans. Better plans. Plans that involved you paying attention to her. So she scooted closer, using the distraction of your hands on the switch controller to place her hands on your waist.

“Just wait, I’m almost fini-”

The former spy leaned in, her mouth meeting your neck. Wet, sinful kisses placed one after the other on your rapidly accelerating pulse, tongue slipping out just past her lips, tracing lines and patterns over the sensitive skin.

“I can’t get your taste out of my mouth, I can’t unhear your little moans.” Ilsa whispered, a distinct reediness to her voice, like she was speaking with a sore throat.

“I have one more lap, please, Ilsa.” you groaned, searching for anything to get away from the woman, even briefly.

But was it her you were trying to get away from, or yourself? You couldn’t deny how hot it had been to makeout with her, how sexy and commanding she had been. And her hands were slipping lower, squeezing and releasing your hips in time with those kisses trailing up your neck, to your jaw, to your ear.

“You said you didn’t do hookups, but I think we can both agree that it wouldn’t be a one time thing.”

There was a lump in your throat. You had to cough to dislodge it. You were in first, you could let down your guard for a-

“Fucking toad!” you growled, all of your senses back in gear to win rainbow road.

“Toad can wait.” Ilsa growled.

She swung her leg over your lap, settling her pelvis in the space created by your crossed legs. This time her mouth was hungry, nipping, sucking licking. Over your neck, your jaw, biting and sucking your earlobe into your mouth. The grip on the controller grew lax, and you shut your eyes, not even caring that it caused your car to slip off the race track right before the finish line.

“I’m listening, I’m listening, Jesus.” you swore.

Ilsa looked into your eyes, nibbling on her lip with mixed desire and anxiety.

“One night.” Ilsa begged. “Just one.”

You opened your mouth to say no. But that look in her eyes… One night couldn’t hurt. She was a good kisser, she’d treat you right… And then you could go back to hating her in the morning. But a little steam. Just letting loose a little.

“... Okay. Just one night.”

Ilsa didn’t delay. She didn’t wait. Her mouth was on yours, and she let out a sound in between a hum and a huff, like she was relieved and yet still frustrated that it had taken this long. Placing your arms around her waist felt right. She had a firm, muscular backside, but in the jumper she was wearing, she had a softer feeling. And though her mouth was demanding and needy at first, Ilsa slowed down, pressing her lips against yours slowly, tongue lightly gracing your bottom lip with every soft smooch. You opened your mouth just a little, gracing your tongue with the feeling of her bottom lip, her tongue. Ilsa held your head steady, leaning in and drawing your tongue out, just long enough to divert it so she could slip her tongue in. She tasted like red wine, and… She’d been chewing that cherry tobacco again. She tasted like sin. One of your hands slipped beneath her jumper, tracing those abs that were always peeking out below her sports bra. She had a soft layer of tissue above the muscles, like a padded layer making her harder points comfortable.

“Princess, take off that t-shirt for me.” Ilsa whispered.

You chuckled.

“I will, but you’ve got to tell me why I’m ‘princess’ in the first place.”

Ilsa smiled, kissing your jaw softly.

“Innocent, gentle, and those hands.” Ilsa smirked, cupping one of your hands against her bare waist. “Princess hands, so dainty and gentle.”

You blushed, and you didn’t resist as she brought one of your hands to her mouth, gently kissing your palm, your knuckles, and then eventually, enveloping your fingers in her mouth entirely.

“Mmm…” Ilsa hummed, a wrinkle relaxing around her eyes. “Finally.” she whispered, kissing your hands again, one after the other.

There was a gentle beat, and then she reached for your t-shirt, pulling it off as you raised your arms. Ilsa spent a good minute just looking at your bare chest. She reached out, aiming to touch one of your breasts, but she paused.

“May I?”

There was irony here in her asking consent, but you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on those soft eyes and how they twinkled with excitement.

“You may.”

She reached out with both hands, cupping your breasts, humming softly. She didn’t stay in one place for long, massaging your sides and gently kissing your collarbone. It was easy to relax, even as she lowered you to lay sideways on the couch, it was easy to relax. You helped her take off your pants and your panties, and Ilsa was quick to pull off her sweats, leaving her in nothing but a sheer, see through bra and panty set.

“I didn’t know we were dressing up.” you flushed, trying to hide your arousal.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d have ripped off whatever you were wearing anyway.” Ilsa husked, settling atop your hips, crossing her arms.

“... Do you know that Ankah meme?”

Ilsa rolled her eyes, not giving two shits about you and your little memes. Her lips attacked your neck again, urging you to just get lost in the moment. Her hair was soft under your fingertips, and her back… You wanted to take a moment to just admire every curve of her spine, of her trapezius, her deltoids, her latissimus dorsi. She made you smarter, you realised. It was her training, her attention. She’d taught you the names of these muscles, and she’d teach you more, you realised.

“I can’t be slow, honey, I’m so sorry.” Ilsa whispered.

You met her eyes. She looked so…

“What do you need?”

Ilsa tugged off her panties, then the bra. You watched in shock as a literal string of arousal extended from her entrance to the cloth of the panties, before eventually snapping back.

“Oh.. My go-”

Ilsa wasn’t in the mood for talking, rather only in the mood for one thing. She shoved the soiled panties into your agape mouth, nearly causing you to gag.

“No talking, none.” Ilsa huffed.

She slipped one leg over your hip, the other leg slipping beneath one of yours on the opposite side. Ilsa was going to press your bodies together, but the shocked look on your face gave her pause.

“Sorry, I’m not thinking.” Ilsa sighed, pulling her panties out of your mouth. “Do I have your consent?”

“Can we maybe slow down?”

Ilsa let out an angry noise. You weren’t expecting her to just… Get up and leave.

“Woah, woah, this isn’t effective communication, you’re not telling me what you need!” you ran after her, noting how her ass would jiggle a bit with every step.

“I’m too frustrated, and it’ll be better for me if I just do it myself.” Ilsa spat.

Now you were confused. She’d begged you to have sex with her, and now she didn’t want it.

“Hey, hey, let’s talk about this.” you tried, snagging her elbow.

Ilsa had tears in her eyes. Now you felt like an ass, and it must have showed on your face, because Ilsa blubbered out reassurances immediately after.

“I just… I am so frustrated, it hurts.” Ilsa stammered.

It was those eyes. It had to be those eyes, because you wouldn’t have done what you did next without some explanation. Taking her hips, you pushed her against the hallway wall, falling to your knees in front of her, hooking one of her thighs over your shoulders.

“Just let me take care of you, hmm?”

Ilsa groaned, tangling her hands in your hair, tugging at the roots. The tension in her body evaporated as your arms glided up her thighs to rest on her hips. Your eyes looking up at her, so glassy and reassuring. Your mouth open, wet, hot, air ghosting over the mess that was her core. And then those lips, closing over her entrance, tongue parting her labia, drawing steady strokes up and down, igniting pleasurable sensations that slithered up and down her spine. Ilsa relaxed, letting out a long, satisfied moan. All these months of stalking, of monitoring, of tirelessly working to get you here… And now you were on your knees, gently servicing her with those wet, warm lips. She nearly cried when you wrapped your lips around her clit, licking and sucking, drawing steady circles over the buzzing nerve.

But for you… This was a different experience. You were nervous, anxious to please, anxious to bring her relief, and almost too focused on the process… That was until her fingers drew up and down your scalp in little scratching motions. You moaned into her, to which she gasped, and whimpered. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. You trailed your hands down, parting her outer labia and pulling the clitoral hood up, only to let out a deep moan around the nerve.

“Fuck!” Ilsa cried out, her hips bucking. “Oh my god, pleaseeee.”

You hummed again, licking and sucking at her clit with full abandon. Her hips canted in circles, grinding herself into your mouth, against your chin. You felt a mix of saliva and her own arousal slipping down your chin, to your neck.

“Just like that, oh goddd.” Ilsa whined again, struggling to stand.

She grabbed the hallway cabinet to her left for leverage, her muscular thighs rippling as she focused on the sensations of your blessed mouth tracing patterns over her hyper-sensitive clit. You pressed your face deeper into her, spelling out sentences with your tongue, letter by letter, suckling in between the messages. ‘Lover’, ‘Sexy’, ‘Needy baby’. Whatever you could think of, whatever her whines and moans stirred in you, that was what you wrote.

“Oh.. Oh.. Oh, oh oh!” Ilsa panted, the motions of her hips growing desperate.

You knew better than to stop, so you doubled down, drawing your tongue in steady circles, even as your jaws ached, as your head buzzed, as your neck screamed. Both of her hands flew to your head, shoving you into her. You moaned as she tugged on your scalp again, and that is what sent her over the edge. Ilsa’s back bowed, her thighs tensed, and she threw her head back in a silent scream, followed by intermittent pants. She held on for as long as she could, but her legs were too wobbly to safely remain standing.

“Coming down.” Ilsa warned, sliding down the wall and into your arms.

She was panting and flushed, you were panting and massaging your jaw which ached like a bitch. Ilsa took several moments to just commit the image to memory.

“Turn around.” Ilsa rasped.

You sat down on your back, giving your sore knees a break. You’d have tender bruises there soon, visible or otherwise. Awkwardly shuffling around, you managed to slump into her back, to which Ilsa let out a sound that almost sounded like a purr.

“Hike your legs over mine.” Ilsa cooed.

You flushed, placing your knees on either side of her bent ones. Her lips returned to your neck, her hands sliding up and down your front. One of her hands found a breast, gently toying with one of your nipples again.

“Ilsa…”

“Shhh, princess. Let me make you feel good too. You deserve it after loving me so spectacularly.” Ilsa murmured, pressing slow kisses to your jaw.

Her other hand travelled lower, parting your glistening labia. Two fingers held your labia taught, the middle finger drawing slow circles over your clit, a gentle stimulation.

“... Oh.. Ohhh.” you hummed.

It felt better than when you touched yourself. She wasn’t doing anything unusual or otherwise groundbreaking, but it felt so good when it was her hand. Ilsa smiled against your neck, gently kissing over your neck. Her lips attached themselves right above that flickering pulse of your artery, sucking, leaving her mark. You shut your eyes, letting her just work you over.

“Moan for me, let me hear how good it feels.” Ilsa whispered, kissing your ear.

The spot on your neck where she’d sucked an angry hickey throbbed, electrifying the other senses her hands were creating on your body. You let out a tentative moan as she sped her fingers up just a little.

“Can you talk to me?” you whispered.

Ilsa chuckled, nibbling your ear.

“Of course I can, princess. I’ll tell you all about how wet you are for me, hmm? And how good you’re doing, sitting so pretty with your knees in place…”

You whimpered again, and you were rewarded with a bit more pressure from her finger.

“Oh, good girl. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Having your body loved like this?”

A head lean into her and another needy moan was enough assurance that Ilsa was doing what she needed to do.

“Mhm, just like that, are you feeling yourself getting close?”

A shuddering breath and a soft head nod was enough for Ilsa. She gently sped up her fingers, drawing harder circles over your clit until your thighs trembled and your hips bucked.

“Ilsa!” you moaned, arching your back against her hand.

Ilsa cooed softly, continuing to roll her fingers at that steady pace until your hips relaxed, and her hand with it. Her arms wrapped around your sides, and she kissed you up and down your face, your jaw. She smiled, cuddling you to her. In the dark light of the hallway, Ilsa looked up, noting the little red dot that flashed. Once was enough for now. She could replay this on her laptop as many times as she wanted to now, she could see the angle of your body from the front as you bucked into her arms. She’d recorded this, after all. And she’d save it for as long as she needed to.

This was just the beginning.

Tags (For previous askers and people who might want this): @lakita-fisher, @ilovehotactresses, @gay-and-sad-tm, @needyformilfs

#rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson x you #rebecca ferguson #wlw #lesbian #ilsa faust x reader #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #lesbian smut #spicy #dark #ilsa faust smut #ilsa faust x reader smut #ilsa faust x you smut #spice

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crystalflygeo · 1 year

Text

Safeword. ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: a bit of anxiety/panic attack, bit of dirty talk but it's all praise, bit of nipple play and fingering, safeword use, bondage (tied arms, blindfold) hurt/comfort, aftercare, just reader in general dealing with negative feelings but being comforted PLEASE BE WARNED IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. READ THE TAGS.

notes: I literally just woke up and wrote this in a rush in my phone lmao what. Listen my mood jumps between depressed and horny and I've always loved safeword use and aftercare done right, it is very important and intimate. Also who doesn't want Zhongli softly soothing and kissing them? I almost made this gender neutral reader but I ended up being self indulgent so sorry.

Everything felt hot, too hot, but not in a good way. It was... sticky, ah, uncomfortable.

You squirm a little, shifting on your legs until you feel Zhongli's hands slowly caress your skin, making you shiver. His breath fans your neck "Good girl.” He mumbles at your shoulder, and kisses there.

Yes, this was fine. This is what you wanted, to just let go and release that pent up energy.

Right?

"Hmm... you've been so stressed lately, darling, haven't you?" His strong hands start massaging and kneading at your shoulders and you groan, it feels pretty good.

Until one of his palms lowers to your chest and starts playing with one of your nipples and you hiss. It hardens under his attention, sure, but feels... odd, it kind of hurts.

You shift again awkwardly, and the rope holding your wrists together digs into your skin.

You don't know what's wrong but something is. You don't feel the same lightheadedness as usual, in fact you're hyperaware, parted lips panting but the pressure is not on your lower belly, it’s at your chest instead. It feels cold, empty, oppressive.

Your hands clench into fists and you whimper.

Zhongli kisses around your chest down to your navel and that feels good too, tender, loving. His voice soothes you, even though you feel oddly disconnected.

"You look so beautiful my dear, laid out like this."

Did you really? The anxiety starts gnawing at you, body tense. Your mind is far away, going over some dumb mistake you made some days ago, some stupid thing you said last week...

You've been so frustrated lately, feeling sad, and angry, and disappointed and-

Zhongli's thumb circles over your clit and you gasp and keen, hips jerking on reflex.

Oh. That felt good, but-

But then why did you feel so wrong?

"Z-Zhongli." You hiccup. Voice wobbly, you feel your eyes start to water. What is wrong with you? You're suffocating. Choked up. Sweaty and awkward and-

His fingers dip inside you and you clench on them, crying out.

"Fuck... Y/N you're so tight." He rasps.

It's too much, you can't, you can't-

"Hng r-red. Red!"

In an instant you feel the mattress dip and shift with his weight as Zhongli quickly takes off your blindfold, and just like that the damn breaks. You start crying and hyperventilating as he curses and immediately frees your hands.

"Y/N, my love, are you alright? I'm so sorry." He starts, and though his voice is leveled as ever you can feel the slight stutter of panic. "It's alright, everything is okay, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, crying into your hands, you want to tell him it's not him. It's never him. But words fail you, you breath stutters.

You know he won't touch you without explicit permission, so you lean into him, your smaller frame trembling as you press closer to his chest. You need this. You need him.

"May I embrace you darling?" You nod frantically and feel his arms curl around you just so slightly, as to not make you feel trapped. One of his hands sweeps your hair over your shoulder and starts rubbing circles on your back, soft. "Is this alright?" He asks.

You nod and try to find your voice again "S-sorry. Sorry... don't k-know... wh-what's wrong."

Zhongli shushes you gently. "Please my love breathe, focus on calming down, slowly. It's ok. Just breathe. I'm so glad you used your safeword. You did well."

You placed a hand at your chest feeling your fast paced heartbeat and trying to calm down a little, regulating your breathing, leaning onto his comfortable touch and words.

You made Zhongli worry, you panicked out of nowhere and still don't know why, you feel dumb, needy, annoying. "S-sorry I'm-" You sob. "Don't know what's wrong...” You repeat unable to find words to express that creeping cold numb feeling that took hold you. “Please d-don't be upset." You add quietly.

You hear him sigh, his hand never stopping tracing soft shapes on your skin. "May I kiss you?" He asked instead and you gave a weak nod. Zhongli planted a soft kiss on your hair, on your forehead. "My dear, I would never be upset. I love you. I'd never wish to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry I didn't notice in time." Zhongli sighs again, heavy. "But right now, I need you to calm down, you don't have to explain or apologize at all, what matters is that you're safe, and I'm here for you for anything you need."

Your eyes flutter close and minutes pass by while he holds you, whispering sweet nothings, your breathing calming down to a steady rhythm. You place a small fleeting kiss against his shoulder and he replied by nuzzling at the top of your head. After a while, you shift and look up at him, red puffy eyes staring at his beautiful cor lapis ones.

"Better?" He asks, swiping his thumb over your cheek tenderly. You nod. "Would you like to eat something? Or I can prepare a bath for you?"

Oh he's so doting, your heart flutters. "Zhongli I'm- I'm sorry I didn't want to make you worry." You can see he's holding back from objecting again but lets you continue. "It's just... I've been so stressed lately and I thought, if we... played... I could let out all that. I-It did feel good! But then it was just... too much. I don't know." You avert your gaze. “It wasn’t you I promise, I just got overwhelmed and everything felt… wrong.”

Zhongli caresses your cheek with his knuckles softly "As I said, you have nothing to apologize for dear, and I'm glad you spoke up. I'd be happy to offer you whatever support you want and take care of you. You're beautiful, hardworking, strong, kind, and I love you."

You feel your cheeks heat slightly and let out a small smile. You're truly literally blessed to have him. "C-Can I... take you up on that bath offer?"

He chuckles, and it's so refreshing. "Of course." He kisses you again and you nuzzle into his touch this time.

"I love you too, Zhongli. Thank you."

#genshin smut #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #crys writes #fem reader #please I don't know if I can/should tag this as anxiety or panic or what those terms are lost to me #I've had those feelings and symptoms I just don't know what to call them and don't want to be wrong #man how I wish I had someone to shush and care for me during those times//hit #like you just crave some affection and intimacy you know?#also Zhongli would be the absolute best at caring for his partner's boundaries fight me #man is the god of *contracts*#and he's so kind and tender and aaaaaaaaaaa

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sky-kiss · 8 months

Note

Okay hear me out. This isn't exactly a request unless...👀

But the Raphael x Tav dynamic where he is the only one who can poke fun or give them a hard time is eating my brain.

Like "I can call them a vapid little fool, but if anyone else does the exact same thing it's hellfire and brimstone for them. For a hundred years."

He'd call it affection if it was in his vocabulary.

A/n: This is short, but I’ve been doing a lot of Carrot!Raph and not a lot of Stick!Raph. Some gore and torture ahead. XD Also I don't think this is what you wanted RIP.

__________

“All this caterwauling! You should really feel blessed, little lamb! I rarely sully my hands these days.” Raphael folded his hands at the small of his back. Isolated from the scene around him, the devil would have appeared perfectly genteel: his doublet remained pressed, hair immaculate. Only the eyes were different, violently bright in the prison’s omnipresent gloom.

Souls and prisoners howled around them, some in agony, some in a desperate attempt to catch the Master’s attention. He didn’t hear; only his guest mattered.

The cambion stopped, lingering just outside their field of vision. They’d finally stopped screaming, lapsing into hiccuping sobs, slumped in on themselves. Not his finest work, he’d be the first to admit, but the rage had come upon him too abruptly for a more cerebral punishment. He reached out, fisting his hand in the sweaty mass of their hair, and tugged their head back. Terror flooded their eyes; their mouth tried to curl back in horror but failed to manage it. His claws left the cheek a ruin of tissue. He tapped a nail against the wound. They knew better than to twitch away.

“Remind me why I’m entertaining you, little one.”

It took three attempts before they could finally choke the word out: “Duchess.”

“Ah, yes. How forgetful! You will have to forgive the indiscretion.” Raphael stepped closer. He’d made quite a mess, honestly. Bones jutted from strange, haphazard angles; he’d removed a few in a fit of pique. He didn’t believe they were essential, but it was always so difficult to tell with mortals. He yanked, and the little thing screamed their anguish. “And what was it you said? Be specific; your life depends on it.”

“W…whore. Whore queen. Raph…” they winced. The mouth couldn't form the words, an ever-increasing disconnect between the body and brain as blood loss took its toll. “Your cunt.”

“An inelegant summation.” He wiped his hand on the thing’s shoulders, glancing across the chamber. “Care to vouch for them, duchess?”

His pet chuckled. What a sight! His finest treasure, her gown set with gems, gold chains hanging about her horns. He had created art with her. “It is they say, my duke.”

“And that bodes well for you, little one.” Raphael knelt beside them, stroking hair back from their face. They turned their face into the motion, an awful pantomime of intimacy. “Though…perhaps not as well as you might have hoped. I guard my treasures so zealously, and she is first among them. You understand, don’t you?”

They nodded, miserable.

“But I am not without mercy. Should you apologize to her…we could start fresh. Would you like that, little one?” He pitched his voice lower, speaking as if in conspiracy. Two friends, ready to make peace. They released a shuddering breath and nodded. Raphael held out his arm to his duchess. She came to him with vibrant eyes and a smile, a pretty reflection of all he’d accomplished. His conquest, his might, his pretty love. “Begin, wretch.”

“Beg…beg forgiveness, dutchess. Please…gods, please, forgive us…”

His duchess hummed. “You are forgiven, wretch.” And to Raphael, “My love, must you play with your food? Are you nearly finished?”

“Very nearly, little mouse. First,” he withdrew a vial from his doublet, a draught of restorative waters. He held it to his guest's lips. Like magic, flesh mended itself! Wounds shrunk and disappeared! In a matter of moments, they were whole once more.

“Merciful King, kind lord,” they sobbed, crawling towards him. The wretch painted the toe of his boot with kisses. “Never again. Not a word against you or the lady will pass my lips.”

“No. I imagine not.” He nudged their ribs with his boots. “Alas, our fresh start will have to wait. My duchess requires me.” The imps crawled forward, hungry and eager. “I leave you in my staff’s ever-capable hands.”

#raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #asks #my fic #cw: torture #cw: gore #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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astro-b-o-y-d · 3 months

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 3 - An Unwelcomed Guest

— — — — — — —

Bill’s head hurt.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body.

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past.

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later.

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate.

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate.

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees?

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious.

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

“Stop talking.”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze.

Oh, he was real mad.

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You’re really getting dull in your old age, Fordsy.”

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably.

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Heck with it, he couldn’t resist the chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons. To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted?

If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home.

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation.

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track.

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better.

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist, nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place.

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight.

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened as he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him.

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “But seriously, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good—”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said, pressing a weary hand to his temple. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He took a sweeping glance around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.”

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out.

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.”

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind.

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents.

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kinda—”

She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.”

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to his knees, and he gave the two of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids.

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side.

When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

His hand once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — —

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe?—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated.

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

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

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

It didn’t bother him.

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise.

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back.

Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack.

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write.

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him.

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned.

Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year.

A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull.

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet lightly bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn��t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause.

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—his everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head.

A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay.

And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can’t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Hmm, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “I can’t even hear just how much this chair is probably screaming from the way I’ve been rocking it back and forth.”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the guy’s absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed.

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!”

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I believe was on my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects.

What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react.

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Bill Cipher #Stanford Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art)#(Stan and Mabel get some decent screentime in this chapter as well)

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in-halingstardust · 9 months

Note

hiii!!! if its ok, can I requests smut oneshot for dottore (specifically the webtoon verison i love him so much) with a female reader where you're his assistant and he's down bad for u pls :3

A/N: I haven't heard of the Dottore manhwa version of him in for-e-ver omg. Like not since I was a 1.0 players. So like- I re read it and I was like, "ohmigod he would be so down bad for you". I hope you enjoy and thank you for being my very first request hehe ~°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° dottore x f!reader_assistant Tags: doggy is down bad for you, slight yangere/possessive vibes, frottage, biting, praise, just...really down bad for you.

You weren't in love.

No... it was something more twisted than that.

He pushes you against the desk and sucks against the small opening between the color and the leather choker he makes you wear, marking you as his. You tilt your head to the side as he gives you hickies that will be clearly visible tomorrow during the test periods on the subjects.

He grips your ass swatting papers, flasks, tools off the table as he sets you upon it.

You tug at this hair, pulling him back a little just to let you breathe. His hands wander towards how your tight blouse tucked into your pencil skirt, trying to unbutton and free your breasts from the constricting material. "Il- wait you're too-," a gasp comes out of you as you throw your head back, "insatiable!"

Your front is now exposed, lacy swirls of pink and white cup your breasts as he nips on a ribbon right near your nipple, thin fabric the only barrier.

He groans, rutting against you like an animal, your pencil skirt hiking higher and higher, exposing a matching set of panties protected against a thin layer of nylon. "God, is this the new set?" He rubs against your core and you let out a hitched breath, "Fuck, I'm going to get you lace stocking too. Just for us!"

With his gloved hand he moves your cup, pink, perked nipple peaks out for a moment before being devoured. His other hand kneading into you; you're left using your arms to support you as he has his fill.

It's rough, fast and dirty. Just like all your quickies in the office before the next experiment. Sometimes it will be a fast blowjob which would usually spill out of your mouth, other times he rips off any clothing covering you and has you against the table if not be for you complaining about how much pantyhose you went through in a week.

On rare days, he cum just from touch alone and a few words. You wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer. He felt perfectly slotted against you and fuck- you might come as well.

He's shaking, but the edge in his voice is still there. "Can't get enough of me, my dear assistant~?"

You rub against him, and he lets out a moan. They are behind schedule, but doesn't this feel amazing? "I- we have more tests to run, Doctor." The friction is inescapable, "ngh! You're not quick enough."

The pace is becoming faster as he laughs against your ear, full body weight supported against you, body to body. He whispers.

"Tonight, let me fuck you again." Another pant. "Tear off your underwear and your goddamn stockings. I'll use my teeth and mark every part of your body."

It's so hot. You're close. He's closer as he rushes every thought into you. "Let me see how you moan. How naughty you are in bed! How ah! Fucking delicious you are. You be mine, forever say it. Say You'll Be Mine forever."

You feel your core wet, pressing against him. The warmth is tantalizing as you grunt out, "I-I'll be yours, for-forever..."

He kisses you, tongues mashing together before a slim string of saliva disconnects you both. "Say it like you mean it. That you can't live without me. That without me you be still be living in those filthy streets- say it."

"Forever! *gasp* Doctor I'll be yours forever." You cry out, legs pressing him, trying to never un meld from one another, "Together- till the end!."

It's a promise as you both cum.

He jerks against you, gripping you against himself. You feel the pulses of pleasure echo against your lower body. Focus is coming back to you as you look down bleary of the bruises and bite marks forming on your breasts. At least your stocking were still whole today.

Dottore, you peer into his face. At least what you can see of it behind the mask, pure red eyes, does not look satisfied yet. Even with the droplets of sweat across his hair, you push his bangs away.

"Why, my precious assistant looks like she could still continue."

You give a stare, fixing your clothes back into place. "Tonight." You say before removing a hand against your waist as your two feet touch the ground shakily, "Let's finish our work today."

"As you wish my dear assistant."

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x reader #dottore smut #.inhalingthoughts

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storiesbyrhi · 10 months

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Warning... answers may lead to endings. 2882 words.

Notes: Part of this chapter was penned during a writing session with @pastel-pillows. This one is for her.

1986

“I think I might be a bad witch… Not bad as in evil… As in… wrong, in some way. Not how I naturally should be.”

“If you’re a bad witch, I’m a worse vampire.”

You looked deep into his eyes. Maybe you had created a monster when you brought Eddie back, but if so, he was a monster you had no intention of slaying. Like Frankenstein to his creation or the stray cat saved from becoming roadkill, Eddie was bound to you and you to him.

Over and over again, you tried to draw any sort of a conclusion that linked him to your coven. It felt like some of your thoughts were in a language you didn’t speak, refusing to offer meaning and remaining disconnected from everything else you know to be true.

Before you could say anything more, your stomach growled loudly.

Eddie smiled. “When did you last eat?” he asked.

“Ah… I think I had an apple this morning?”

Peeling yourself away from the warm comfort of the bed, you made your way out into the kitchen, ducking under the clothes drying on Eddie’s makeshift clothesline. “I didn’t realise vampires were so easily domesticated,”

“Nor I,” he replied, a coy smile on his face as he sat at the breakfast bar and watched you open the door to the painfully empty refrigerator.

You huffed.

“I will gather food for you,” Eddie decided from his position at the door. You hadn’t seen him move there, but you were getting used to that. “You stole clothing for me. I will steal food for you. Tis only fair.”

With no energy to come up with an alternative plan, you shrugged and nodded, letting Eddie go. Flopping down on the couch, you closed your eyes. Even with all that sleep, you still felt sluggish.

Then, unfairly, the phone rang. You looked at it for a couple of seconds, hanging on the wall, squealing at you. If you didn’t pick up the call, Kelsey would find another more dramatic way of contacting you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, untangling the curled cable so you could sit on the floor.

“The lines were down. I’ve been calling all day,” she told you. It was hard to say if that was a Vecna thing or a ‘Hawkins is falling apart’ thing, not that it mattered either way. “Was it you? Did you stop him? He’s gone. Whatever was holding open the door between our world and his is gone. Everything is… quiet,”

“Hi to you too.” You could feel the unimpressed look Kelsey was giving you down the line. “Sorry,” you started again. “I’m sorry. Yeah, he’s gone. It was… Me. And the humans. I watched him burn to ash. He’s gone, Kels. And… and, yeah, everything is quiet… Hawkins feels… empty. They will rebuild though,”

“They always do,” she said solemnly. “We couldn’t see you. I mean, we haven’t been able to really see you since you got there. It’s like there’s a smudge on the window or something. There was no craft that would let any of us see into his world,”

“Maybe that’s for the best. It was not a world we were ever meant to see,”

“Does it seem… I don’t know… Anti-climactic to you too? The coven will leave the border up for a few days, just to make sure, but everyone is already going back to their lives.”

The battle still ached in your muscles and bones. There hadn’t been enough time between then and now to afford you the perspective to see it as climactic, let alone for this stillness after to feel anti-climactic. If you were honest, the fight for the soul of Hawkins and indeed the rest of the world wasn’t even the main event. It was just another photograph on the murder board. A sense of resolution would begin and end with Eddie. What shape that would take, you didn’t know.

“This is what we do,” you reminded Kelsey. “We should be so lucky that all of the wars are so brief and contained,”

“Yeah…” Kelsey remembered the same as you – the smell of burning vampire bodies at the cost of Penelope’s life, and only after the massacre of humans and witches alike. “You’re right. Maybe it just feels strange because we’re apart. It’s never been like this. We’ve never fought a war apart,”

“I know. I miss you too,”

“Are you coming ho- Wait. Wait, fuck. What happened to the bat man?!”

You were hoping on Vecna overshadowing the cursed bat situation, that you would have at least another day to come up with a good cover story before having to update Kelsey. Eyes darting around the trailer, you looked for inspiration but were coming up short.

Kelsey started to laugh at your silence. “What did you do?” she whispered; the glee evident. “You did something, right?”

“It didn’t work. He’s still a bat.”

She was trying to gauge your tone. “Did you kill him? If you did you can tell me. I know it was an accident!”

“Kelsey! I didn’t kill him!”

“Then why do you sound like that?! Did you fix him? Is that it? Did you turn him back into a man and he’s so unbelievably attractive that you have to keep him secret? Has your icy heart finally melted and you’re in love with the bat man?”

“You’re hundreds of years old, grow up,”

“Ohhhhh!” she laughed. “That was absolutely not a denial,”

“It was. He’s just a common brown bat. I’ve been busy with, you know, saving the world. Not really time to try to unhex a bat,”

“Yeah, yeah. You only get to say you saved the world because you were stupid and went to Hawkins. You got their first. We collectively would have stopped him otherwise.”

No, you thought, the coven wouldn’t have. Not unless one of them had a secret vampire too.

“Yeah, probably. The point is, a curse is hard to break. This is gonna take a while.”

Kelsey replied, but you didn’t listen. Your head had made a connection as you said the words. A curse is hard to break. A curse should be hard to break. It was meant to be hard to break. But… It wasn’t. It had been easier than expected once you’d committed.

A curse is hard to break unless the witch unbreaking it was the one who cast it.

“Kelsey!” you interrupted her. “What do you remember about the flatlands? About being here?”

She was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean? What part? We were there for so long,”

“Right, sure. But, the vampires. What do you remember about them?”

Kelsey did not like the mania in your voice. Still, she answered, measured as always. “We knew they were there before they attacked,”

“When did they attack?”

“Um… it was winter, I think? It was cold. 1835 or 6? We left in 45, and it had been about a decade of war… You know this though. You remember this too?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. It was how you remembered it. “I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about Penelope. How she experimented… and… I don’t know. Being back here has me nostalgic, I guess,”

“Nostalgic for what…? Killing vampires?”

You winced, felt your stomach flip on itself. “No. I just… I don’t know.”

Kelsey was quiet again. “What have you done?” she asked seriously.

But that was the problem. You didn’t know. You didn’t know what you had done, nor what had been done to you.

“I’m okay,” you told her. “Everything is okay,”

“You have to know that I know you’re lying, yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay.”

You heard her sigh deeply. Kelsey had an entire vocabulary of sighs at her disposal. Really, all witches did. Maybe, all women did. It was a secret language you could speak to each other in.

“Really,” you assured her.

“Alright,” Kelsey conceded. “Well… Call me soon, okay? These two weeks have felt like eternity,”

“I will. I love you,”

“I love you too.”

Eddie had returned but waited outside the trailer until your call ended. He listened as you hung the phone back on its cradle. You were breathing too fast, your heartbeat following suit.

He was pleased that his speed didn’t seem to bother you anymore. Eddie placed the bag of food on the kitchen bench and looked you up and down. You sighed and he wasn’t sure what it meant. The look in your eye, though, he could decode. You were sad and worried.

“I think I did this to you.” Your voice was small, as though the guilt muted sound.

Eddie moved slowly, came to sit next to you on the floor. “Why do you think that, little witch?”

“I… I mean, I don’t know for sure. But the curse was too easy to reverse. It’s easier to undo your own magic than another witch’s,”

“If so, why do you not remember?”

Shaking your head, you looked at him. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “I think there might be other things I don’t know and can’t remember.”

There was an impulse Eddie ignored, one that laughed at the notion of a dishonest sisterhood. He didn’t think your misery was funny though. Whatever guilt you felt about potentially being the cause of his hex, he matched with his own about being the cause of your sorrow.

Instead of apologising or asking if it was routine for a coven to conceal truths from each other, Eddie stood and began to take things out of the bag he’d returned with.

“Food is readily available,” he noted. “I assume it has not always been so,”

“Nope,” you said, standing and looking over his gathered goods.

“I can read but much of the packaging still lacked useful description… What is a Toaster Strudel?”

“Oh, they’re good!”

“They did not look good. Nor did Captain Crunch,” he told you, pronouncing the ‘captain’ so formally. You giggled. “So, I took what appeared to be real food.”

The image of Eddie stalking through an empty supermarket was so endearing. He’d collected fruits and vegetables, eggs and soft cheese. Fresh milk too. Things that were recognisable to him and his 1800s brain. You picked up the one thing that was out of place. A single pack Moon Pie.

“Curiosity got the better of you?”

“I wake to find myself in the future where Moon Pies are plentiful. How could I not?”

“You can’t… eat…”

“But I can taste!” Eddie defiantly opened the plastic wrapping, took a bite of the Pie, and chewed. When his jaw stopped moving, you snorted at him.

“You wanna spit that out?”

He nodded.

“Trashcan under the sink,” you pointed. “How was your taste of the future?”

“Dry…”

“Yeah. They’re not the best. Should’ve got Hostess CupCakes. But, the rest of this is good. Thank you, Eddie.”

While you made a pot of tea and drank milk from the bottle, Eddie watched like he was trying to learn the dance of your movements. You ate brie on apple slices, and fried egg and tomatoes. The food made you feel the closest to normal you’d felt in weeks.

As you washed the dishes, it occurred to you. “Have you… eaten?” you asked Eddie.

His lips tipped up into a smile. He nodded slowly. You nodded back in acknowledgment. The both of you were thinking it. He didn’t have to ask. He just waited for you to come to a decision.

“Tell me,”

“He may have counted as one of yours… but I doubt you’d claim him,” he began with a wicked smile that reminded you of what he was. “He was in the forest, looking for where she died,”

“Who died?”

“The… cheerleader? The gate is closed. All that remains is the valley he ripped into the earth. But… I can smell the blood there. Her's. It’s splashed against the trees. Still stuck to some of the fallen leaves. There was a man out there. He was looking for that place,”

“How do you know?”

“Ah, well, chatty young demon… He had a photograph of her. And a look in his eye. I asked him if he was looking for death. He misunderstood,”

“That’s it?” It didn’t seem enough. You agreed it was ghoulish to visit a murder scene for fun, but it certainly wasn’t enough to warrant death.

“No. Curiosity is natural. His candour though, almost supernatural. He was revealing in the darkness that has taken Hawkins. He could name all the people he was happy to have seen perish. The cheerleader was at the top of the list. He appeared to be quite infatuated with her. Moreso in death.”

Eddie’s dark eyes watched you for a reaction, any hint you didn’t want to hear about it anymore. Your expression was one of worry and anticipation. He continued.

“When I showed him where the blood was, he grew excited. In… every sense of the word. He asked if I was like him. Which, I fear, in some ways I am. But not in the ways he wanted me to be.”

It was a question of morality. Maybe even theology. And if there were things to question bigger than that – then those too.

“Do you think he has ever hurt anyone?” you asked, trying to form a complete picture.

“Yes. It was in his nature.”

What Eddie was describing was a budding sociopath. A potential serial killer. Or maybe just a run-of-the-mill asshole man that took pleasure in the pain of others, especially when those others were pretty girls like Chrissy Cunningham. Either way, there would be no more pain.

What pain had Eddie caused in his lifetime? Bloodlust wasn’t something alien to him. Why did it feel fair for the young man in the forest to die but for Eddie to live?

“Are you thinking about your murder board?” Eddie asked softly.

“Even if I had all the information in the world, I think there would still be questions that can’t be answered,”

“Perhaps it would do you well to exercise the thoughts. Turn your mental murder board into something real,” Eddie suggested.

Although you didn’t have a pinboard and coloured string, you did have notebooks and a multitude of pens. It was a good idea.

Eddie sat on the couch as you pushed your coffee table alter from the center of the living space, making room on the floor. Cross legged, you ripped pieces of paper and began to write out everything you knew for sure.

1830 – 1843 Eddie hexed, by who? Likely the coven, possibly me?

1845 Coven leaves Hawkins, some memories of my time here missing, coven vows never to return

1986 Something calls me to Hawkins, Vecna? (probably not), Eddie (probably not), what then?

You paused. It wasn’t a lot. It was nothing, really.

The Witches Who Came Before: warned against returning to Hawkins (why?), foretold that when fighting Vecna I would not be alone, ‘history will not repeat,’ ‘lore will be rewritten,’

Looking up at Eddie, he offered an encouraging nod. All you could do was shrug back. “I don’t… I don’t know how we can possibly get any answers without asking the coven.”

He could hear the frustration in your voice and responded by slinking down, pushing his arm against yours as he sat beside you.

“May I ask what the answers would do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Eddie tapped a long nailed finger against one of the pieces of paper. “Does it matter who called you to Hawkins? You came and you saved your humans. Is that not enough?”

You shook your head. “No, it does matter. Vecna didn’t know about me or what I was, so it wasn’t him. That wouldn’t make any sense. But, it wasn’t you. Unless it was and you just don’t know. That doesn’t… that doesn’t really make sense either though. But I don’t know what else it could have been. Prophecies and pilgrimages are usually voiced by The Witches Who Came Before, and it wasn’t them,”

“They are… Your higher power?”

“Uh, no. They are, like, literally witches who existed before now. Ones that were particularly powerful or noteworthy. They are on a different plane of existence. They can see beyond the limitations of our plane, beyond time and space,”

“Interesting… Why have you not taken your questions to them?”

All their vague words and unhelpful warnings echoed in your head. “They aren’t always… clear… or concise…”

Eddie felt like there were avenues to answers you were not willing to walk down. The Witches, for one, or other types of magic. With answers come endings, and maybe you didn’t want anything to change just yet. If that were it, he felt the same.

“I have questions,” he said then.

Of course he did, you thought. He had no idea who he was or where he had come from or why he was the way he was.

Eddie caught you off guard though –

“What does music sound like now?”

Studying his face, his sharp features and dark eyes, you looked for… You didn’t know what. A reason why he’d never felt like a threat, maybe? A reason why you felt at ease.

“I have tapes in my car.”

End Note: We have moved forward a few short hours in 1986 this chapter. Next chapter, we return to 1836. As always, I'd love to hear from you! xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/Reader #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader

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prof-peach · 8 months

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Hi again! Its me, idk if you remember but i sent you that weird horned shiny caterpie a long time ago. I had another question. My partner recently caught a pumpkaboo. He is also very much into haloween decorating, but hes afraid to carve any jack-o lanturns. I was hoping if there is a way to help his new pokemon and let him carve this year. Any advice would be wonderful.

-Bre

Ah yes, good to hear from you again, your caterpie is doing very well by the way, settled right into a small colony after an adjustment period and has made a lot of friends.

As for this Pumkaboo issue, it does happen, theyre sweet pokemon but struggle to see the difference between themselves and pumpkins, so the panic can settle in.

What we normally do is encourage them to use razor leaf as a move, and basiclaly play fruit ninja with them. As often as you can just throw fruits and get them to try to cut them up with the attacks. After a while, say a week or so, slowly introduce small pumpkins or gourds in. Say nothing and just mix them into the game of aim and slice. They are not usually perceptive enough to pick out what it is theyre attacking while its moving in the air, especially in daylight where their eyesight is a little less detail orientated, and will continue the game without further thought. Again, these are not overly intelligent pokemon on average, more curious or tricky, even timid (but there can be exceptions).

Once they eventually realise theyve been playing a game with vegetables by letting them examine the remians when you all clean up, they usually clock that vegetables and pokemon are not the same. they do not smell the same, nor do their insides look similar in any way. Its more about breaking the barrier between what they will and wont do out of nervousness, proving that they are not the same as pumpkins first hand, and that there is no scary or terrible concequence to attacking said vegetables.

Posing the idea of carving together after that tends to become far simpler, they can connect the dots of 'i am a pokemon and alive and sentient' and 'that is a vegetable and im not hurting anyone like me', most of the time this species wont partake due to a fear of the unknown, a hypothetical, or a disconnect in information, fill in the gaps and they tend to come around to it pretty quickly.

But theres always the alternative if you find youve got a real scardy cat: Paint the lanterns. Glow in the dark paints are easy to buy, so you can bypass the need for a candle or knife, and this way you dont have to front up something that may cause yoru pokemon emotional discomfort, though I personally would suggest confronting this nervousness.

It is a minor issue, and it's healthy to experience situations where you need to be in an uncomfrotable state and maintain calm composure. This is a great example of just letting them experience the world so they can handle their feelings and emotions in a healthy way instead of freaking out if they see something they don't like or understand, launching an attack out of fear and being a danger to themselves and others.

Good luck with fruit ninja, it doubles up as fun enrichment for all your pokemon, and is snack time so- win win!

#prof.peach #pokemon #peach talks #there are other ways but this is what we do #most of the time

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maxipad031 · 1 year

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hey girl! i loveee ur account! can we get a best friends to lovers fic please? Shuri and reader are like 20, and reader realises she isn’t straight because she starts crushing on Shuri.<33

i like you silly

synopsis: fluffy and short fic where you start to realise your growing crush on your best friend, shuri. you don’t know where she stands, but she soon lets you know and you begin to understand yourself more.

contains: shuri x black reader, cute crushing, fluff, brief sadness, make out session, best friend to lovers x

and thank you smmm!🥰

novacane by frank ocean blasted in your sony headphones as you bopped your head continuously to the beat, your hand moving rapidly as you scribbled down equations for your calculus homework. it was literally due the next day and you'd forgotten all about it until your friend reminded you like 30 minutes ago through a lengthy text explaining how she lost it. your room was flipping messy, clothes on the floor, on the bed, heaped upon your vanity chair. the curtains were basically closed but there was a peak of natural light as your purple LED lights dominated the room, making it glow a soft lilac. something about purple just put you in a focusing mood, so yes your room had to be covered in it. just as the song was about to change, it stopped abruptly, and you shifted your gaze over to your phone, confused. sighing, you realised a call was coming through and when you saw who it was, your heart leaped in your chest.

my shuri <3

was displayed on the rectangular screen and you hurriedly fumbled everything away to pick up your phone to answer, crunching the papers under your weight in the process. as you clicked the bright green phone button, her breath taking voice came through into your headphones, loud as fuck.

"y/n, are you busy?" she asked softly, waiting patiently for your reply. you glanced at the phone, your homework underneath you and your phone again, "nope!" you answered, maybe way too excitedly.

"ah perfect, can you meet me at café moon in 10?"

"of course shuri, ill be there." you assured, packing away all your papers and into their designated folders, "is everything okay though?" you asked, realising its unusual behaviour for shuri to be calling you randomly since she's always busy with her tech projects.

"oh yeah, i just want to see you, make sure you're okay." she replied, her voice laced with some kind of additive that made you want to hear it all the time.

"okay, see you hunnie buns." she didn't reply straight away, but you cut off the call as you didn't want to hear her reply to your bold action anyways. well, to be honest, it wasn't even that weird because in your....friendship, you called each other lots of things like bae, darling, love, honey. it didn't really mean anything....or so you thought. you disconnected your headset and slipped it off, resting it on your oak desk as you attempted to make your dorm room look at least a little presentable, just in case you both came back here. shuri was used to your room being a mess though, she always says "it adds to your character, " with that silly, cute eye smile she does that makes you want to just give her pecks all over her face.

your mind often wavered like this and at first it was just subtle, cute scenarios you'd imagine before going to bed, but now it's just full blown delusion, things that would never happen between the two of you; i'll leave that up to your imagination.

you'd always identified as a straight individual since all you did were date boys in high school, but after meeting shuri, all of that went straight out the window and you've only been able to look at her: everyone else is blotted out with a black marker pen. she's in the centre of your thoughts, running around in your head rent free. you'd never really had close friends, so you orignally thought it was your clinginess that made you so drawn to her, constantly wanting to be around her at all times. however lately, it didn't make sense that you'd been feeling this way for this long, almost two years now. you usually lost interest in other friends you had but this was different, it was so clear now,

you fucking liked her.

it was a hard pill to swallow, the fact you were probably bisexual...or a lesbian? actually no, because you genuinely had feelings for the guys you dated, so you're probably bi...you think? whatever, labels confuse you and you don't care about them. right now, you're shurisexual and that's all that matters.

you sat up on your bed to look in the illuminating mirror as you ruffled your tangled curls, to the left, to the right, just everywhere until it looked nice and presentable. you were already wearing a large purple hoodie, so you just replaced your booty shorts with baggy ripped jeans. quite motivated to look nice, you picked up your makeup pouch from the vanity table and began to touch up your face, only a little concealer and lip gloss. once that was done, you cleaned your room further, stuffing your disorganized clothes deep inside your closet and kicking any loose objects under the double bed. with a deep sigh, you grabbed your phone and the keys from the drawer before heading out, making sure to lock your door securely. you walked quickly past all the loud kids occupying the dorm hallway, and rushed down the spiral stairs to basically sprint outside. as there were no cars coming at that moment, you crossed the quite busy road and ran down to the café shuri had told you to meet her at.

by the time you arrived, you were huffing and puffing as you tried to catch your breath. you had no idea why you ran but it was probably due to the fact you were so eager to see your best friend again after like two days. the cafe’s large glass windows exposed it’s interior. it wasn’t that busy and looked calm as always, everyone minding their own business studying or talking. as you grabbed the door handle, you eyes flickered to a familiar presence . it was shuri, sitting on a high chair that was facing the window, which faced the street, and seemingly engrossed in something on her phone as she scrolled. you walked in and the bell above the shop door rung at your arrival as shuri’s head whipped in your direction. you adjusted your hair behind your ear shyly and watched as she flashed you a bright smile while you walked over towards her.

“heyy ma, how is my darling.” she greeted, wrapping her long arm around your torso as you hugged each other. her embrace was comforting, you never wanted to let go. unfortunately, you had to depart from her and when you did, you sat down on the high chair next her.

“shuri, you forgot about me for two days, huh.” you scolded jokingly, as you crossed your arms and fake pouted.

“you know that’s not the case y/n.” she laughed at your fake act, taking a sip of coffee that she just ordered, “do you want anything to eat or drink?” she asked in a caring manner as her hands nestled in her lap.

“nah i’m alright, thanks though.” you played with the hem of your hoodie subtly as you grew nervous under her gaze. this was such an unusual feeling, you were normally the one making people shy, not the other way around. she nodded and rested her elbows on the shelf-like table before you both. she stared outside for a minute, her sharp jawline flexing as her eyes travelled. she has recently cut her curly hair and it was shaved at the sides, leaving the top sitting nicely and dropping over her forehead. the day she sent you that selfie pic of her freshly-cut hair, a tear ran down your leg; it was so attractive on her and she definitely knew it. you were beginning to understand that you didn’t wanna be her, you wanted to be with her. she wore a purple tracksuit this day, kimoyo beads wrapped around her slender wrists and her sunglasses propped up the middle of her forehead. she clicked her tongue softly and spun the chair around to face you,

“i have something to say.” she announced. your heart jumped and skipped and hopped before falling back down into your ass. you knew she wasn’t going to say what you thought she was going to say, but it was nerve wracking nontheless.

“go on.” you said, eyes wide open in anticipation.

“i’m going back to wakanda in two weeks.” shuri replied, playing with her glowing kimoyo beads as her eyes darted around the small cafe, avoiding your eye contact.

“wait what, why?!” the corner of your lip twitched with disappointment.

“my brothers funeral, i must be there.” she said, smiling weakly as an emotion of sadness washed over her eyes simultaneously. seeing her grieve for her brother broke your heart into a million pieces and you wanted to do nothing but comfort her. you slowly reached over her lap to cup her cold hands in yours. you massaged it lightly as you looked up at her, “that’s totally fine shuri, i’ll be here waiting for you.” shuri shifted her gaze to you and you swear for a split second it was a look that said, “i love you so much,” but it also might’ve been your imagination. she gave you another hug, squeezing you so tight, you had to tap her shoulder for her to soften up a little, “you don’t know how much i appreciate you y/n.” she sniffed a bit as she pulled away from you, holding her head up ever so lightly so stop any welling tears from escaping.

“hey, why don’t we go back to mine.” you suggested, pulling her up off the high chair. seeing her upset broke you and you wanted to cheer her up as soon as possible. shuri grabbed her now cold-coffee with her free hand and nodded her head as she obliged. you both stood up to leave and you led her out of the shop. the sun was blazing above and you instantly regretted wearing a big hoodie. shuri seemed to notice your discomfort as you constantly pulled at the neck of the clothing,

“you should come to wakanda, you’d die if you wore something like that outside.” she commented picking up the pace to walk beside you, her infamous eye smile displaying itself and making you melt as you stared at her.

you chuckled before replying, “take me then, i’ve always wanted to go.” you unintentionally held her hand as you crossed the road together. shuri paused and stared down at the interconnection of your hands; she didn’t pull away but held on tighter instead. you didn’t even notice the small act of affection as you scanned the road, careful you both didn’t get hit.

“alright.” shuri whispered under her breath, seriously contemplating to take you with her.

~~~

“how dare you plus five me, what the fuck!” you yelled, as shuri aggressively put down a blue +5 card. you two had resorted to playing uno flip and right now, she had you fucked up. she’d never played it until now but boy did she pick up the game fast, she even knew tactics to stop you from winning.

“sorry but i’m not letting you win.” shuri smirked as she watched you reluctantly pick up five cards from the deck when you previously had two cards left. the game resumed and you stared menacingly at her, your competitive side really coming out. shuri had four cards left whilst you ended up with seven from picking some up. she put some reverses, which skipped your turn, but just before she put down the second to last card, you yelled out UNO before she could realise and you cackled maniacally, picking up two cards to give to her. shuri quickly realised her mistake and shook her head, “you didn’t even tell me i had to say uno when i had one card left.”

“yes i did? that’s the point of the game.” you arched your eyebrow.

“you didn’t.”

“wanna fight?” you asked jokingly, putting your cards to the side and pretending to pack up your thick hair.

“like you’d win.” shuri rolled her eyes and cuffed up her sleeves as she put her cards to the side as well.

full on ready to actually wrestle with her, you leaped from your side on the bed to hers and she surprisingly caught you, flipping you over and laughing as she pretended to punch you,

“please please please, let me live, oh mighty black panther please!” you closed your eyes as if you were scared, rubbing your hands together as a sign of mercy. you were the only one here in america that knew she was the black panther by accident, and you’d sworn to never tell a soul.

after you heard nothing, you opened your eyes to peek and saw her doing a funny face. you both then bust out laughing at your silly behavior, forgetting that she was still on top of you. your laughing started to die down before you suddenly realised the position you were both in and instantly start to panic. her face was literally inches away from yours, as her minty breath tickled your nose. completely rapt, you didn’t know what to do so you just lifted your hands up to hold the sides of her small waist. she felt the sudden touch, and looked down at you, also realising how close in proximity you were to each other. you could do nothing but stare at her lips, perfectly two toned, glistening from the lip vaseline she always uses, and slightly parted. the urge to kiss her was so strong and nearly overtook you but your mind started to ramble and it unfortunately transferred into words out loud,

“shuri, i’m so sorry, i know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but i like you, i really do, i’ve been liking you since i met you, i just didn’t know how to say it, i’m sorry, you probably don’t even feel the same way, but i just felt like i needed to-”

it seemed like shuri had the same thing in mind as your words were interrupted, by the feeling of her soft lips placed upon yours, maybe as a way to indirectly tell you to shut up. your eyes were wide open from shock but you shut them and kissed her back with a more needy approach. it felt like you were in another realm entirely, just you and her, together, nothing else mattered. your lips moved in sync as you held onto her waist tighter, liking the way her body felt on top yours. before you could slip some tongue in, she pulled away licking her lips as her eyes danced around the room, seemingly embarrassed by what just occurred. she gently climbed off of you and sat up, packing away the uno cards. you held yourself upright with your elbows watching her contently.

“shuri.”

she didn’t reply, focused on tidying up the bed.

“shuri!” you held your hand to stop her from her actions and she stared at you blankly before grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you into another kiss.

what in the world was happening right now.

her hands were enveloped in your brown locks and you pulled her closer, putting your hands on her shoulders to deepen the intimate kiss that was being shared by the two of you. shuri seemed like she wanted this for a long time, but so did you and you were going to make every second count. she was the first to slip her tongue in your mouth and you eagerly welcomed it. her muscular arms wrapped around your waist and propped you up onto her lap impatiently. you’d previously taken your hoodie off when you two came back and so you were left in a white tank top. her large hands rubbed against your chest area unintentionally and that riled you up even further. the kiss got hungrier, deeper as you snaked your hands around her neck, fingers laced in her tight coils as you devoured each other.

honestly, if this carried on, it was going to lead to something else and you didn’t think you were fully ready for that right now especially if shuri didn’t feel as deeply for you as well, so you hesitantly parted your lips away from shuri’s, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two of you. shuri breathed heavily as she looked up at you through her chocolate orbs, her lips having grown in size from the fervent make out session. you adjusted your top that had rode up from the touching and carefully got down from shuri’s lap,

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i don’t know what came of over me, i understand if you don’t like me anymore i’m sorry-” shuri blabbered, worried to death that she’d made you feel weird, hence why you stopped.

“no shuri, that was amazing, of course i like you silly, i just told you a whole essay about it.” you giggled, placing your forehead on hers lovingly, “i stopped because i just have a question to ask you.” you said mysteriously, as you sat up against the headboard of your double bed.

“go ahead,” shuri urged you to continue as she followed you, also moving so her back was against the headboard.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” you inquired bluntly. you didn’t think you’d ever say that to anyone but surprise surprise, here you were.

“i thought you’d never ask.” shuri hugged you for the 30th time that day and you hugged her back, filled with absolute bliss. you were so certain she’d reject you but her feelings for you might’ve been even stronger than yours for her; no that’s impossible. you couldn’t wait for what’s the future held for you two as well as how your relationship would work out. however, not everything was all roses and daisies as you remembered that’s she’s eventually going to leave you soon.

“wait shuri, aren��t you leaving, i’m not going to be able to see you.” you pouted, holding her hands as your head was down in woe.

“well, you said you wanted to come, didn’t you, i can definitely organize that.” shuri replied, lifting your chin up to look at her.

“what!? you don’t mean it...i can go to wakanda?! oh my god, no fucking way, i’ve always wanted to go! shuri, i could literally buy you a lamborghini right now.” you yelled out, full of excitement as you jumped off the bed and ran laps around your small dorm room screaming your head off like a lunatic, almost tripping on the loose objects all over the floor.

shuri laughed wholeheartedly at your thrilled uproar, loving how gorgeous you looked when you were happy. this was going to be a great few weeks for you two.

🫶

#shuri udaku #mcu shuri #shuri x black!reader #shuri #shuri fic #black panther #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #letitia wright #shuri smut #letitia wright shuri #shuri fluff #shuri black panther #best friends to lovers #lesbian #wlw #make out #cutecore #maxipadanswers

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