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a-aexotic · 2 years

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could you do a rafe imagine where reader is a pouge and she’s working at the country club as a server or as a bust gal and kelce says something about her but rafe secretly likes the reader and he defends her and gets pissed at his friends for talking bad about her or saying something degrading or ojectifyinfg about her and then the reader finds out rafe defended her from topper ?? Bc topper is secretly kind (apart from the fire tbh) and reader confronts rafe about why he defended her

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. sooo much fluff, degrading language towards women, a fight (kinda), out of character top/rafe, lmk if i missed anything!

summary. rafe has a crush on you and topper makes it his top priority to get you two together after you confess your feelings, too.

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You were exhausted at this time of day and you just wanted to go home and rest. Your eyes were heavy and your feet hurt from these stupid heels the club makes you wear. You had one last table before you could clock out; you could already feel the warm bath you were going to draw tonight.

Until you saw who you were serving; Kook royalty themselves. Rafe, Topper, Kelce and a few guys you don't recall the names of. You prepared yourself for the longest hour serving these boys.

You walked up to them, a big smile on your lips. If you were going to serve some snotty Kooks you might as well get a good tip. "Hey, um. I'm Y/N, and I'm your waiter for tonight. Can I get you started with any drinks?"

You handed out the menus and you could already feel their stares at your body and face, making you feel a tiny bit self conscious. In the corner of your eye you saw Kelce turn to one of the boys to whisper something and he immediately turned red before letting out a chuckle.

You saw Topper and Rafe make eye contact before Rafe rolled his eyes, making Topper sigh.

"Sure, for me, I don't know about the others though." Topper nodded politely as you smiled.

"Yeah, I'm super thirsty." One of the boys had commented as the whole table (minus Topper and Rafe) erupted in laughter. You were disgusted and honestly disappointed, I mean, how low could these jerks get?

Rafe cleared his throat and the whole table became quiet once again. "Me and Top are going to get some Old-Fashion's. I don't know about the others."

"Make that three more." Kelce added and you nodded politely, jotting it down quickly on the notepad.

"Okay, I will be right back with your drinks. Take a look at the menus, alright?" You walked away with another big smile and as you turned, it immediately dropped.

You didn't necessarily hate Kooks; well, not to the extent of JJ or Pope. You could honestly stand them; sure, they made you uncomfortably sometimes but at least at the end of it, you have a good tip.

"Take a look at those menus, more like take a look at that ass!" The boy had said and Kelce and other one let out another laugh. Rafe couldn't stand it.

The jokes weren't funny and were low blows, they were some of the worst jokes he'd heard in months. It was stupid. Rafe held in all his anger because he didn't want to cause a scene, especially here or in front of you.

He's been trying to make a move on you for months; giving extra tips, complimenting you, asking if you could help with the golf cart. And now all his hard was going down the drain because you're going to think he's shallow and idiotic because of his 'friends.'

The only person he actually liked right now was Topper and that's saying a lot. He felt bad for you as well. Rafe didn't really feel empathetic towards anyone but seeing you put on a fake smile and nod off the joke like it was nothing reminded him of someone.

"God what I would do to take her to bed." One of the boys sighed as the others agreed. Rafe bit his tongue as they continued.

"I'm sure she would," Kelce took a drink of his water. "If you tipped her enough."

"You're right, she's a Pogue. I'm sure she needs the money."

Rafe was disgusted. Is this really what they thought about? "Shut the fuck up, dude. That's not funny."

The table went quiet as the guy turned to Rafe. "What the fuck is your problem man, you've been in a bitch mood ever since we came in here. I mean, come on, it's a fucking joke."

"A joke? You call that a fucking joke?" Rafe started raising his voice. "You're the fucking joke here, dude. Who the fuck says that shit? Especially while she's literally over there."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, have some decency. Y/N's actually so sweet."

The two boys looked at each other before laughing. "Oh I see what's goin on here. You two are acting like you're all above this, above us, so she can see how gentleman-ly you are and let you tag team her, huh?"

"Not everything is about sex, dude. Maybe we actually think she's nice and a human being that deserves a little respect. She's, y'know, a living breathing human with thoughts in case you've forgot." Rafe was seeing red and he was about to throw a punch before Topper kicked his leg.

"What, dude? It's true." Rafe looked at Topper before he sighed.

"Let's just finish the drinks and then we can go, alright?" Topper was trying to calm things down and Rafe took a deep breath before nodding.

You had come back with all the drinks on a platter. You felt the shift in energy, it was a lot more tense now than it was. "Alright, have you guys figured out what you guys wanted to eat?"

You passed out the drinks.

"That would be it, can you uh, get the check please?" Rafe's voice was much softer and politer than usual and you nodded. You appreciated the manners; you don't see a lot of that in the country club.

"Okay, sure. I will be right back with the check." You smiled at him and his cheeks turned a little red as he turned away. Topper noticed this and was a little confused.

Rafe had never mentioned liking you in anyway. He was now wondering if he had just started liking you or if this was something that's been happening for a while now.

"Okay, Kelce, how much would you pay me if I went up to her and asked her out on a date?"

"Nothing, dude. You'll be getting the award, why would I have to pay?" Kelce responded, drinking a little of his drink.

Rafe flared his nostrils as he kept in his anger once again. He didn't want to blow up again, people were already staring.

"Dude, you won't do it." The other guy laughed. "You're a fuckin pussy."

"There's no way she'll say yes." Kelce added.

The other guy rolled his eyes, "How much do you wanna bet?"

Kelce laughed, "100$ easy, dude."

He laughed, "Okay, I'll be a 100$ richer."

"You're definitely going to lose that 100, man."

You came back and put the check down with a small smile. "Is that all boys?"

"Yes." Rafe quickly said, taking the check and putting his card in. The others exchanged looks. Before you could away, the boy had started to say something.

"Y/N, right?" He looked at your nametag then to your low V-cut shirt before looking back at your face. "I was wondering if you could let me take you out later this week, maybe... Saturday? I'm havin a big party, I'd just love for you to come."

Rafe was angry he felt like his eyes were going to bulge out of his eyelids as he stared daggers at the guy.

You stood there, a bit shocked. There were a few seconds before you could respond. "I would love to. But uh, I'm already dating someone."

"Really?" Topper looked confused, you'd never mentioned one. You glared down at him before smiling and nodding. Rafe felt like his world had come crashing down. You had a boyfriend?

"Yup, JJ. Two months!" You said dramatically. "Sorry... About that."

The guy looked pissed, turning away from you. "You weren't even that pretty anyway." He muttered.

Your eyes widened and immediately took that as your que to leave, walking away. "Okay.."

Rafe quickly got up after you, taking out his wallet and taking out a 20$, handing it to you.

Your eyes had widened at how much he was tipping. "Whoa, are you sure?"

"Very. My friends were douches to you and I apologize. I don't even know the other two dudes' names."

You laughed, the first real genuine laugh you've had all day. It was a like breathe of fresh air. "Me neither, but I can't take this, that's so much." You pushed away the money.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can." He put it in the pocket in your shirt before sighing. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

He walked away to the rest of his friends and you smiled at the nice gesture. Rafe, despite the opinion of your friends, was actually kinda sweet. I mean, he was sure as hell better than the rest of his friends (minus Topper).

"Dude, that took you long enough." You heard one of them groan.

"Shut up." You heard Rafe reply as you smiled to yourself. You immediately shook away the smile, sighing. Why was the Kook prince making you smile? Wow, you were in desperate need of a bath and a good meal, 8 hour shifts aren't your strong suit.

You were surprised and confused at Topper's words.

"Yeah, he was like, genuinely pissed. I've never seen him that mad and that's saying a lot."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, "Wait, wait. So he defended me?"

Topper looked at you like it was the most obvious thing of all. "That's what I've been saying for the last half an hour, have you been listening?"

You rolled your eyes at Topper's unnecessary sassiness, "Yes, Top, it's just been really hard to process."

"What's hard about it? Rafe has literally never had a soft spot for anyone except Wheeizie, like ever. And he's rich. He can spoil you and you're literally set for life-"

"Whoa, okay." You started laughing. "Let's not go that far. I am not marrying Rafe Cameron." ok girl...

"Okay but think about it." He smiled. "We could be like kinda related. If Sarah marries me... or if Rafe considers me a best friend, I could be like your brother-in-law."

You started laughing harder, "Sarah's not marrying you."

He didn't look too amused by that. "Okay, shut up, seriously. Rafe likes you."

The more you imagined his face and his smile, his dad outfits and the way he literally is an asshole to everyone except you, the more hot your face felt.

Topper smiled as he playfully pushed your shoulder making you laugh. "He's cute."

"Cute? Don't call say that to his face, he'll get all flustered and then roll his eyes."

You already imagine his face, making you laugh a little harder. "Okay, okay. If... if I were to like him back, how would I approach him?"

Topper sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Okay, uh. Maybe just talk to him and flirt before he asks you out."

"That's so obvious-"

"He tipped you a 20 last night and you're worried you're making it obvious? Are you serious?"

You rolled your eyes. You reminded yourself to talk to Topper about his attitude problem later because it's getting a bit much. "Okay. Fine. I will."

Other than being a waitress at the country club, some days they put you on the Beverage Cart duty. It was probably because they were short in staff that day but honestly you didn't mind. You'd rather be out on the golf course then cooped up in the restaurant. You also get double the tips than you would inside.

Plus, you had a cute golf outfit on with the cute visor; you felt like a true Kook.

As you were going around, selling drinks, you saw Topper and Rafe. Of course they were going to the club today; it was nice Saturday afternoon. You face palmed yourself. You already knew what Topper was going to do.

Topper saw you as well, a smirk forming on his lips. "Rafe, uh. Remember Y/N?"

Rafe felt himself blush at the mention of you. He shook it off, nodding. "Uh, yeah. Doesn't she work here?"

"Yep. Also, I was uh, talkin to her the other day and she called you cute."

Rafe's mouth flew open as he whipped his head towards Topper. "What?"

Topper smiled. "Yeah, she called you cute. Like, really cute. She was blushing and shit."

Rafe smiled and he didn't even feel it. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, dude. And, oh! Speaking of the devil, there she is."

Rafe's eyes widened as he looked over at you and shook his head. "Oh, uh."

"I know you like her, man." Topper added as he looked to Rafe.

He shook his head. "No, I don't like her. I think she's cute."

Topper rolled his eyes. "And you blush around you, you stumble over your words, you tip her real good. You were practically on the floor kicking your feet in the air and blushing when I told you she said you were cute."

Rafe frowned at Topper's wording and before he could protest, he started pushing Rafe towards the cart. "Dude, hold on."

"Ask her out, man."

"Not now, dude, I've been plotting for months now, I can't just-"

"Dude, do you trust me?" Topper stopped and looked dead in the eyes.

"No." Rafe stated before Topper rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the fifty-th time that day.

"I don't care, now come on." He pushed Rafe towards the cart before grabbing the back of his collar, making him walk towards you. If this was any other situation, Rafe would've landed a punch to Top's jaw but he didn't wanna scare you off, so he kept his cool.

You stared the two as they approached the cart. They seemed too... normal. They were both smiling and you felt like they were plotting. You know for a fact that Topper is.

"Hey."

"Hi." They both said in union, making Rafe look back at Topper, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What can I get you two?" There was unnecessary awkwardness between the three of you as they both looked at each other.

"Two... sodas."

"Sodas?" You looked assumed. Were they 12?

Topper looked back at you. "Yes."

As you reached for the cooler, you heard Topper make an 'O' sound. You turned around.

"Oh shit. I forgot my wallet, I will be right back. Rafe, you stay here and get us the sodas, alright?"

Rafe looked back with his teeth gritted, a warning to Topper. "Topper."

He shrugged. "I'll be right back." He jogged away as you and Rafe made eye contact.

You knew that he knew what you had told Topper. And then, Rafe realized the same thing. He didn't know what Topper had told you but he just hopes it wasn't too embarrassing.

"Um. I never asked but um, what sodas do you want?"

"Ginger ale. I'm pretty Topper wants something girly like Diet Coke or something like that." Rafe mumbled the last part but you heard it. You let a horrendously loud laugh because you knew Topper would get a Diet Coke.

You suddenly felt embarrassed but it melted as you heard Rafe's small laugh as well. Butterflies filled your stomach as you heard him.

"Okay, then. One ginger ale and uh... a Diet Coke." You laughed a little after, making Rafe smile.

As you handed him the Ginger Ale, your hands touched and you felt like your face was on fire. You quickly pulled away.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe started. "Did Topper say anything about me?"

"In what way?"

"Um, I don't know... something involving you?" Rafe inquired as you smiled.

"Did he say anything to you about me?"

"Maybe." He dragged out the 'e' sound as you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"Topper may have mentioned a few things about you. But they weren't bad. They were actually a little... admiring to hear."

He went red as he looked down at his feet. "Topper just loves to run his mouth."

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He definitely loves to gossip."

He laughed at your wording. "He said some stuff about you, too. It was... admiring, too."

Your cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling this hard and it'd been only a couple minutes.

"Okay." Rafe sighed. "Are we talking about the same thing-"

"Yes, we are. I think."

Rafe was going to have to push all his pride and ego just this time. "I think that you're really pretty... and if you're not with JJ, I'd love to take you out on a date."

You had forget he heard that part. "I'm not with JJ."

"Okay, then what do you say?"

"Yes, Rafe." You smiled at him and he swore his heart did a little flip at the sound of that.

"Okay," he sounded breathless.

You then turned in your cart, looking for a piece of paper and your pen. You found one and then wrote down your number. You turned back and handed it to him. "Text me and then we can sort out the details, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Topper finally walked back, wallet in hand, a big grin on his tanned face. He looked down at the paper in his hand and gave Rafe a proud pat on the back.

"Here's your Diet Coke," you held in your laugh as you gave the drink to Topper. Rafe smiled back at you as Topper opened it quickly and took a big gulp.

"Thank you. I knew you'd know my favorite drink, Y/N." He took out a 5 dollar bill and gave it to you before winking and you felt yourself cringe at Topper as you took the 5.

He and Rafe walked away and you stood there, your heart beating fast as you watched them walk away.

"What'd I say? Trust me, Rafe, I promise it'll work out and look, it worked out!"

"Yeah, for once, dude."

"Oh, shut up."

You heard their argument and laughed to yourself, getting back into your cart to drive to the next course.

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thir10th · 5 months

Text

are you in?

summary: compilation of short blurbs of your's and Emily's relationship before the team knew. Some based on actual chapters. it's just basically how you managed to keep it a secret TW: I fucked up the show's timeline so try to forget all you know about it, "only one bed" but reverse (it may be shit lol), suggestive content, i think that's it A/N: Writing this one has been a pain in the ass because every time i edited it i'd loose the changes so there are parts that i don't actually like at all but here it is nonetheless. As always: English isn't my first language. Reviews are appreciated. Like and reblog <3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ new blouse?

A near death experience really deserves some kind of celebration

and you suppose a near-job loss experience does too

a week had passed after Emily and Hotch had rejoined the team on that case on Milwaukee, and Emily's head injury was almost just another scar, so when Morgan had asked you if you wanted to go out for drinks, you had looked at your girlfriend and said:"yeah, wny not"

and there you were, sitting at a table right next to Penelope, waiting for your girlfriend to bring all your drinks, and overhearing a conversation she was having with Hayley and Hotch, who seemed very relieved to have the night for themselves. You were supposed to be a part of that conversation, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to listen.

All your focus was deposited on your girlfriend, she had her arms rested on the counter trying to get the waiter's attention, a pair of dark jeans accentuated her figure, and all you could think about was getting home and ripping that blouse off of her.

You would have to settle for just staring, for now. Emily turns around to take a look at your table and catches you starring, you blush instantly, but she just smiles and gives you a wink, which makes you smile too, and suddenly your taken out of the trance by a voice.

"y/n are you listening to me?" Penelope says trying to grab your attention

"sorry, yes, what is it?" she looks at you suspiciously, as if with just her eyes she could decipher what was going on inside your head. She can't go on because Emily comes back with all your drinks, leaving them on the table and sitting next to you , maybe just a little bit too close but you could not complain.

She simply joins the conversation like it was nothing, meanwhile you sip on your drink hopeful that the alcohol will help you take your girlfriend away from your mind. However, Emily has different plans for you, as she rests her hand on you thigh behind the table so no one can see, dangerously high, she can't be bothered at all, she just keeps talking to Hotch as if nothing was going on, but all you can think about is her.

Morgan, who had spent a good hour on the dance floor, collecting girl's phone numbers, comes around, he grabs Penelope's hand to take her to the dance floor with him.

She shoots from her sit, swinging her hips to the rhythm of the music, Morgan guides her, a huge smile on his face as he pulls her to dance with him.

To everyone’s surprise Hotch pulls Hayley to dance with him as well, and just like that, in a matter of seconds, Emily and you are left alone.

When you turn your head to look at her, she places her face closer to yours, dangerously close, you’d say, but you can’t bring yourself to separate.

“Are you having fun baby?” She asks, a soft smile on her lips “yes, but it’s getting hard not to touch you” she smiles, her face closer now you can almost feel her lips brushing against yours. Her hand, which was still on your leg, starts caressing your thigh, setting progressively higher. You’re starting to lean into the contact when you suddenly remember where you are. Anyone who looked at you right now could see the whole scene.

“Em, stop” you say, drawing her hand away from your leg and separating your face form hers “they’re gonna see”

“Ok, yeah, sorry” she says, fake regret on her face as she takes another sip of her drink

“So, I caught you staring at me before, what was it that was so interesting?” She says like it’s the most innocent question ever, but you just know she wants to bother you a bit more. You would never admit how much you love it.

You check no one is looking at you. Both Hayley and Hotch are in their own little world, and Morgan and Penelope are too focused on each other to care. So you lean into her to whisper in her ear

“I was thinking how hot my girlfriend looks and how much I want to rip that blouse off of her” she chuckles and you go for another sip

“Thank you, it’s new” she says louder, like you just asked her the most simple question about her clothes

She leans into your ear this time, with the softest, sexiest voice she just whispers, the feeling of her breath on your ear is suffocating now

“I would love to let you take it off however you want. Do you want to go?” She asks, you eagerly nod your head, begging her with your eyes to take you home right now.

“C’mon, I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and I’m driving you home” she smiles at you and winks, you follow her to the back of the bar where JJ and Spence are, to let them know you’re leaving.

For your surprise, JJ walks up to you too.

“We have a case” she just says, and you look at each other with disappointment.

Looks like Emily’s blouse was staying on for now.

𖨆♡𖨆 3x03 scared to death

It had been a weird morning.

You woke up with a headache. After your last case you had arrived at Emily’s apartment, and parked your car outside so you could get to work on different cars the next day.

You were thinking about having a calm night. A bottle of wine, a movie, Chinese takeout, falling asleep early enough so you wouldn’t be so tired the next day, all that.

Little did you know Emily had some things in mind for you.

The first glass of wine was alright, you were barely feeling it, but after that one another 3 followed, you came up with this stupid game of drinking every time the movie had a cringe scene, and lucky for you the movie was really bad. You would sometimes forget that particular wine affected your girlfriend to a certain level, so one thing leading to another you had fallen asleep at more or less 4am.

Next day you wake up to a very loud phone call. You turn around confused by the phone ringing, but you’re not sure where exactly it’s coming from. It had flown away yesterday night along with your clothes and had landed on the bedroom floor.

Emily's arm was wrapped around your waist, your leg on top of hers, you were both just a mess of sheets and naked bodies. You get out of bed, waking your girlfriend up, who lets out an angry groan.

You finally find the phone behind Emily's pants, JJ's name appearing on the screen. "Hello?" you answer "Hey, we have a case, I can't reach Emily, and you're both late, do you know where she could be?" she asks. You check the time

8:15am

Shit

shitshitshitshitfuckfuckfuck

"yeah, I'm sorry, ugh... i don't know where Emily is, i had a problem with my....kitchen sink...but i'll be there as son as i can ok? bye JJ" you don't even wait for her to answer, you just hang up the phone and run to wake Emily up.

"Em! Baby wake up its 8am we're late!" she finally opens her eyes, her somnolent face tries to decipher what you just said. Her body starts moving first, siting upright.

"JJ just called, we have a case, you have to call her back, tell her there's traffic or something, I'll leave first ok?" you run around, trying to find something wearable. You already had your own drawer at her place for times like this.

You fly around the apartment checking you have everything with you, car keys, purse, phone... You walk up to Emily, still getting dressed, only a pair of pants on and her bra, she’s looking around for something to wear with the pants.

You grab her waist, pulling her in for a kiss “I’ll see you there ok?” You tell her. She smiles at you, then grins, still half a sleep, and you leave.

You weren’t exactly sure if it had been the wine, or the 4 hours of sleep, but you were hoping the meds you had taken with your breakfast (a coffee) would start acting quickly, because your headache was starting to get unbearable.

Sitting on the round table, you revise the file with the case, when Emily arrives, excusing for being late, but Hotch hasn’t even arrived yet and we hadn’t started, so she’s technically still on time.

As soon as you look up to catch a glimpse of her, your headache magically disappears. You regret it immediately because now she’s all you can think about.

It’s ridiculous, you spent hours last night with each other, hell, you spent all day with her! You should’ve had enough of her by now! But how could you when she was wearing that red tank top?

You stare at every movement she makes, taking her jacket off, uncovering her slightly muscular arms, you cannot physically take your eyes off of her, following her every move. Red was definitely her color, there was no argument about that. You could not focus on the case anymore.

After the usual “wheels up in 30” they all leave the room, but you grab your girlfriends arm last second, trying to keep her from leaving. “Em wait a second” You’re both left alone, looking to see if there’s anyone left in the room, everyone has left and far from you two.

"What is it?" she asks

You feel the need to whisper although there's no one in the room anymore "You look so good in this I'm genuinely considering going down on you now" you say tugging the red fabric between your fingers. She smiles widely, getting closer to your face.

You aren't sure where this renewed confidence is coming from, it's just that Emily made you feel like that sometimes.

"was yesterday not enough?" she says in a teasing voice, but you can tell she's feeling just like you. Her face mere inches from yours, you are almost begging her for some action.

"we still have 30 minutes" she twirls her head as if asking you, and you nod, unable to form any words

"ok you go first, I'll meet you down" you're already crossing the door when you turn around, check for anyone who could see you, but there's no one even close to your vicinity.

You rush back, giving Emily a peck on her lips, and separating to go run downstairs.

˚☽˚｡⋆ Can I join?

It's almost time. You can even taste it.

A free night. It's been some time since you got one of those.

You could even see it. A wine glass, your big ass bathtub, a dozen candles, some exotic scented bath products and your wonderful girlfriend.

You look across the room for her, she's working on some files still. You could say she literally feels your eyes on her, because she turns around and catches you staring at her, smiling warmly at you and winking, which makes you instantly blush.

"Any plans for the night, Prentiss?" Morgan asks her coming by her desk, you're already walking up to them so you don't miss a thing from their conversation.

"yes. I got a date" she just says like it was nothing.

A weird sensation runs through your body, a mix between jealousy and excitement. You obviously knew you were the date, but the jealousy came mostly from the fact that she could not mention it was in fact you.

"really? who's the lucky one?" Morgan asks rising his eyebrows

"hot tub" she answers like nothing, just playing it cool, but the grin on her face suggests she has been picturing your night just like you had.

"oh, that sounds like a party" he teases, but she doesn't lose a single second on it "you're so not invited"

"am i?" you come from nowhere, you are right behind Emily, who turns around, holding back a smile, she gives in the game, after all, this is the perfect way to make them not suspect a thing.

"now you, i could consider it" she answers, and you lower your head, smiling to the floor so no one sees it.

"Now that sounds like a better party" he mutters.

.•°•.•. .•.•°•.

The soft bathrobe hugs your body keeping it warm, a wine glass in your hand, resting your back against the sink, you wait as your girlfriend finishes the bath.

The whole scene is idyllic, candles lit all around, low warm light illuminating the stance, Emily's black hair falling on her shoulders, her robe barely closed, she lights the last two candles, and checks the water temperature before walking up to you

"ready?" she asks sweetly, untying the knot in your robe, she takes off hers and gets in first, giving you a hand to help you get in, yourself.

You lay back, resting your back against her, relaxing immediately into her touch. White bubbles around both your bodies. She kisses your neck from the back. Breathing out, you groan at the feeling, she caresses the skin of your ams with her fingertips, gently.

"do you think Morgan can even begin to imagine this?" you ask her, she stops her ministrations to answer you

"i really hope he doesn't, but teasing him is fun" you chuckle

"well, imagine how we'll blow out his mind when we tell him" you begin wondering. She kisses the sensitive skin on the curve of your neck, nipping at the skin, you close you eyes leaning on the contact.

"are you thinking about it?" she stops to ask

"Morgan? hell no" she chuckles

"i mean about telling Morgan" you turn around to look at her, making a bit of water overflowing the tub

"well, yeah, I mean, I think about telling all of them" she twists her head trying to understand

"not now though! Not yet... at all" you can see her relaxing instantly, a smile begining to form on her lips

"Em, this past months have been...amazing, and i want to keep that for ourselves just a little bit more... also the sneaking around is very fun" you both laugh in agreement "but?" she asks waiting for you to add something more

"but, that doesn't mean I'm not excited for our friends to know, you know? I mean, going out together and actually kissing, dancing together, to be able to say we are, well, together tonight... basically just doing it all together" her big brown eyes linger on to you, she's full smiling now, you know she feels the same, but she just wouldn't be the one to tell you.

"i love you" she mutters, you smile, holding to her shoulders for support, warm drops of water running down your arms, you kiss her gently in approval.

"well, i say let's enjoy the meantime then" her hands fly to your waist to hold you, and you kiss her deeply again.

𓇢𓆸 Care to share?

Hotch had decided to call it a day, it was too late, and you all knew how difficult it could be to function when you don't get enough sleep.

You had't had time to check in earlier at the hotel, so when you got there and saw it, you knew that wood creaked like shit.

You had expected nothing less, being in a cold state, the hotel reception had a big fireplace which kept the ambience cozy and warm, the wooden planks creaked behind your feet even behind the thick carpet.

Hotch turns to us, with the room keys in his hands "I'm sorry but this is a small village, this was the only place that still had spare rooms, and they're all packed up this week so some of us will have to share" he says.

"how many?" Morgan asks concerned "two double, three single rooms" Hotch says

"well I'm not sharing with pretty boy here" he complains

"Dave and i can share one" he says "Well, y/n and I also don't mind sharing" Emily rushes to say. You walk up to her "right?" she asks as if she needed to make sure "yeah of course, no problem" you say, smiling at her. Her quick willfulness to share with you and you eager reaction winning you a suspicious look from JJ, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, because tonight none of you would have to sneak out, waiting till it's late enough for the rest to have fallen asleep, you wouldn't have to wake up early to get back to your room, you had your place tonight.

"alright, thank you" you think it's funny, you should be the one thanking Hotch, not the other way around. You grab your key and Emily follows you upstaris.

.•°•.•. .•.•°•.

You can tell the place is old just by the keys, it's an inn more than a hotel. You turn the key in the lock, opening the door partially, when you feel Emily's hands on your waist, grabbing it, you close your eyes as soon as you feel her lips on yours, and she kisses you deeply, possessively.

You surround her body with your arms for support, leaning into the kiss, closing the door behind you with your foot. Tugging your hands on her hair, you surrender to the connection and just give in, not caring who could've caught you mere seconds ago on the hallway.

She pushes you agains the door, her hands finding the way behind your shirt, touching you everywhere, she moves to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, the skin behind your ear, leaving a trail of wet warm kisses, finding your pulse point you let out a needy whimper in approval.

"you think JJ knows?" you ask breathlessly "she suspects something, but she can't technically prove it" her lips brushing your neck with every word, her soft breath warm on your skin.

"Well, she should start paying more attenti-" your mouth falls open. It was the first time you had tken a good look at the room since you entered "Em, look" you say trying to stop her ministrations much to your distaste to make her look around.

Emily turns around and takes a look at the room. You should've guessed this would've happened. Hotch would never slept in the same bed as Rossi, and you shouldn't have to do that ether, right?

"Two beds?" she says, in awe. "what do you suggest?" she asks

"should we join them?" you try "we'll end up falling through the middle" she says "ok, then. You chose"

Next day you wake up completely wrapped around Emily, your nose buried in her neck, inhaling her scent, you were almost thankful for the small size of that bed.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

A/N: this one took me a long ass time to finish so i hope its not shit. Like & reblog, any feedback is greatly appreciated. Also I'm open to requests because I'm almost out of ideas

#criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss lesbian #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #sapphic #criminal minds #criminal minds one #criminal minds oneshot #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss fanfiction

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thezombieprostitute · 6 months

Text

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.”

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space.

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself.

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.”

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair.

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities.

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.”

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop.

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.”

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back.

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #soulmate au #tw kidnapping #dark!lloyd hansen

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halfhoursonearth-writes · 6 months

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Can you recommend fanfiction that you personally really like?

Yes! Love this ask. I’ve never made a Zutara fic rec list partially because I’ve read so many wonderful stories over time that I find the prospect daunting!

But there are absolutely certain stories that I have a personal soft spot for, that I return to again and again. And that’s my criteria for what’s included below. This is a sampling of fics that I find myself coming back to, in no particular order. I may come back and add more, because this list is so far from exhaustive. A mix of ratings (marked), so keep that in mind.

Wish I Was the Moon by Like a Dove (T), post-canon: There’s so much that I love about the way this one-shot explores Katara’s character and what she faces post-canon, how she frees herself, strikes out in the world and finds her way home. Her feelings for Zuko, and her inner-conflict around them, are rendered tangibly, both through scene and subtext. A really good example of how an author can show a character’s lack of/journey to self-knowledge without breaking voice.

Refraction by caroes3725 (E), post-canon: When I started reading Zutara fanfic (for me this was in 2020), this was the fic I was looking for—a deep, realistic-to-canon, in-character exploration of how Zutara could unfold after the events of ATLA in a way that gives Katara in particular the arc she deserves. Really well-done development of the Fire Nation court world, well-developed characters, shining dialogue. An amazingly well-worth-it slow burn.

Wildfire by rainstormdragon (E), post-canon: To me this story is kind of a steamy Zutara thesis. The characters are so spot on and alive, their flaws are on full display in a way that feels realistic, and their chemistry is powered by their compatibility—matched in passion and stubbornness, and also in what they want from life. And I think it really gets Aang, too, which is something that can be hard to find in ZK fic. Also really hot, but that's only part of what makes it really shine.

Partners in Learning by evergreenonthehorizon (T), Modern AU: One of the things I love in modern AUs is watching an author weave that invisible string between these characters. Sometimes, it’s by writing narrative arcs that parallel the series, and sometimes it’s by drawing out the personality traits that make the characters both lovable to readers and such a compelling match and watching that spark bloom into flame. This beautifully written story does that so, so well in a really compelling Modern AU setting. Zuko and Katara here are so wonderfully lovable, and it’s a joy to watch them fall for one another, too.

Journeys by Smediterranea (E), Modern AU: In real life, I want to see my friends in relationships with people who can recognize why they’re so particularly amazing. That potential, I think, part of the appeal of ZK as a ship, and that’s part of the special magic of this fic. Watching these two characters get to know one another—really see one another—and fall in love deliciously sweeps the reader up. Plus, really fun, in character cameos from the rest of the Gaang along the way.

Spark, set fire by marijayne (T), Modern AU: literary fanfic, and I mean that in the best way. This story is beautiful and bittersweet, the latter is not often something I seek out in fanfic (where I hide from life), but here it’s gorgeous and worth it. The world building here is really cool—allows the author to explore some of a set of cultural issues/interactions that both echo the ATLA world and ours. The characters are so tenderly drawn (dadko especially)—and the connection between them builds beautifully and tangibly—and the longing is…chef’s kiss.

Wrong when it's right by nire (T), Book 1 Canon Divergence: Before I read this, I couldn't imagine wanting to read a Book 1 Zutara. After, I wanted more. Bickering, bed-roll sharing, shared heat, tenderness and common ground. A delight from start to finish.

Anyway, thanks for asking and happy reading! <3 And if you want more recs, let me know.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fanfic #zutara fic recs #zutara fanfic reccomendations

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razzle-n-dazzle · 7 months

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Excuse me, I hope you have a good day! If your requests are open I would like to request Blitzo with an enemies to lovers trope kind of with perhaps the reader being a concubus (gn succubus) with Verosika's posse, and the two have a competitive streak with each other. They both are supposed to be enemies (because they are loyal to Veroskia) but they don't realize how hard they are falling until they accidentally save Blitzo/IMP one time... Which turns into them saving them other times all by mere "coincidence" but it's really because they started looking out for him crushing hard and wanting to keep him safe. Even if they feel like they can never admit it because of Verosika. Happy ending or not, Blitzy requesting! <3

ᯓ★ "Lust, not Love . . . Love, not Lust?" Biltzo / concubus! Reader | Drabble Warning! - not proof read (we die like Adam), implied sex, hate-make out but not really hate-make out scenes, light gore, name calling

ᯓ How the fuck did you even manage to get here? Being pushed onto Blitzo's desk was the dusk of the night was settling through the drawn window. On either side of you laid his hands, pinning you in place as though he thought you would make some cheap shot and move away; Which, you were half tempted to do. Yet, instead, you would wrap your legs around his waist and draw the Imp closer, harshly cupping his cheeks so he could shove his tongue further down your mouth. Fuck, it felt so nice! Your eyes would flutter as you felt Blitzo groan, his clawed hands reaching up to squeeze and kneed your thighs needlingly. "You're fucking gross," He would groan, not even being able to wait until you both broke for a quick puff of air, causing you to snicker into the heated kiss. "Oh, shut it, you know you like it!" You would bite back, reaching to tug on one of Blitzo's horns. You knew it would rile him up; Verosika talked all the time about how Blitzo was a slut for his horns to be pulled, tugged, played with. And was it a sweet sound that escaped his mouth, a flustered gasp for air paired with a growl, making him all worked up and pretty. The glare he gave you sent shivers down your spine.

ᯓ And shit you kind of needed him too. Even if logically you know you should be pushing him off, running far away from the Imp out of loyalty to Verosika, there was something that just made you stay. Something that tickled your stomach and your heart all at once, that drove you insane, that had you crawling back to the pathetic Imp, Verosika's ex, on all fours.

ᯓ Gladly you never publicly did that, only in your mind . . . sometimes. And yet you could never tell anyone what happened here, that night under the cover of the shadows and in the arms of an Imp. That would be a secret you had to keep to the grave; Even if he did give you the best time you've had in a while.

ᯓ But how the hell did you even end up in the Imp's arms in the first place?

ᯓ Well, it started when Verosika had moved her headquarters to the same building that I.M.P. was in; gaining the same floor, stealing their parking spot, and well just being a bitch. You had a hunch she did all this in spite of Blitzo, hating his guts so much that she wanted to torture him after they broke up. Which, before you met or saw him, made you think he was some sort of sexy Imp who could turn anyone's heads. Then you saw him and was, well, disappointed. Verosika was getting her panties into a twist over some short Imp who couldn't even stand up to her at first. He had to send one of his workers in before he even stepped foot into the studio! To you, he was a waste of time. A nobody who got a shot with a popstar and blew it for not being able to love properly, or something like that.

ᯓ So, you no attention to him at first; why should you? He was someone who, when the competition was a complete, would be a no body to you! Just another bad decision from Verosika you would have to hear about every so often just because you worked for her . . . and sometimes it made you question whether or not you should have accepted that job offer from her.

ᯓ Your interest for Blitzo first began at that very competition, or demon duel, which you had little interest in yet participated in because 1) it was good way to gain more magic and fulfill your hunger and 2) Verosika told you to. Persuading humans to fuck you, along with the others, was easy enough to do, even easier when it's a bunch of horny teenager son spring break; A simple look and or a flirty wink and you had them hook and sinker. Even if it left you feeling dirty by the end of being banged by 3 different people in a row, not being given a chance to properly breath as Verosika seemed oh-so-determined to win that bet. You were a concubus, sure, but fucking people you didn't know wasn't exactly your style; Which was always pointed out as weird, but you gained more power by fucking someone you knew or wanted . . . desperately.

ᯓ So all this was doing was both wearing you out and making you feel like a whore, which in turn made you feel like absolute shit! Can't exactly fucking people if you're feeling yourself or your body. Which led you to wondering away from the crowd, shoving past the tangled mess of naked or half-naked bodies attempting to fuck into each other, to get some air away from the scent of sweat and sea water and booze. "Fuck me. . ." The mumble left your lips as you trailed along the beach, dragging your aching legs. Wanting nothing more than to go home and shower, maybe take some pain killers and go to sleep, never brought you closer to relief. It only lead to you sitting on a barrel under the bridge that was over the beach. And, you know, you weren't trying to attract attention. You really weren't. Yet, it seems like everything you wanted never went your way anyways, "Oh, look! I knew I smelled something fishy." Blitzo's voice drawled out, his words instantly as sharp and thrashing as his tail behind him. And if you hadn't just been fucked by three guys, two at once, you would have probably gave him the anger he wanted out of your reaction. Yet you couldn't, "Oh fuck off, Blitzo! Go bash someone's brains in and jack off, I know it's your kink." You could already feel the way his eyes narrowed at you, the hostility basically seeping out of his pores to drown everyone around him. "Can't exactly fucking do that when you're stinking up the whole place! Shouldn't you go be getting your holes filled, Whore?"

ᯓ People often say that first impressions are always the most important, but you choose to say different. While they can be important to judge people off of, you've heard too much about Blitzo before you even got to know him! So, you never did get a proper first impression. Instead you got the pleasure to know how long his dick was before you even got to know his face! Thanks, Verosika. And yet, even if that did technically count as your first impression, or first meeting, with Blitzo it didn't change much about your impression on him. At least, not in that moment. He was still the dick bag cunt ex of your boss and you had no intention of sticking around and talking to him. So, as he turned to talk to some hellhound that was by his side, you snuck off and walked down the opposite side of the beach. No need to stick around if he already ended the conversation on a sour 'Whore'.

ᯓ You know, you never really understood the concept of 'love' before Blitzo. That was something you realized when you had woken up after your fuck session on his desk after that . . . strange dream of the first time you spoke to him. You would groan as you shrugged yourself to sit up, feeling a weight on your chest that caused your eyes to drift down and meet with an all too familar jacket, and yet no Blitzo. It caused you to blink once more, maybe again for good measure before you rubbed your eyes just to make sure they were squeaky clean before taking in the sight below you. Oh fuck. . . I just fucked my boss's ex. Was the thought that ran through your head, panicked and crazed, as you quickly glanced around frantically. You had to make sure no one saw you and that you could still wear your clothes!- Fuuck. What were you going to tell Verosika? Hey, I slept with your ex sorry about that, didn't mean it, it was hate fucking, you know how it is! No, you couldn't!- Ugh, shit. The fact that you had been abandoned on Blitzo's desk, with no Blitzo in sight, hadn't even crossed your mind. Even as you raised your hands, drawing his jacket up to your face to hide in, hoping that some freak accident would happen and just kill you.

ᯓ That would, sadly, be better than facing Verosika's wrath.

ᯓ Love! Such a crazy concept and you defiantly shouldn't know it or even feel it! You were a concubus, you were a demon made out of the pure essence of Lust and Craving; You got your magic by fucking people, your body, hip curves and plush thighs were made to be admired and fucked. You were like a sex toy, you were a sex toy to most, and yet. . . there was this weird feeling that had began to fester in your chest. A feeling that grew the more of Blitzo's scent wafted into your nose.

ᯓ Shit, when had this even started? Was it that day on the beach? You doubted it. You felt nothing but tire and ire from talking to Blitzo while trying to hide from your duties. Was it the days after? No, you never got much of a chance to dwell on the thought of him nor did you get much of a chance to talk to him. So when did it start? No, not when you had noticed it, you remembered that day well enough, especially since you almost died trying to save that Imp and his team. But, when had the feeling started to festered in your chest, implanting it's way into your heart and igniting itself in a way you've never felt before? In a way that had started to make you crave him in a way you never experienced? Should you talk to Ozzie about this, you were relatively good friends, yet . . . would he even understand? You doubted it; He dealt with Lust, not Love. Love; shit! No, no, you can't name it Love even . . . even when it felt so right.

ᯓ Rescue day was as clear in your mind as though it had happened yesterday; It was around the time you had been watching I.M.P. for a good month or so, just 'curious' about what they were doing, where they where going, who they were going to go kill, and who they were doing it for. It was all in pure curiosity, you had reassured everyone else in the office, and yet you think you had just been lying to yourself; Trying to shove down the prodding and poking feeling, shove it deep, deep down until it couldn't be felt anymore. But what kind of bitch who isn't a psychopathic maniac in love with the thrill of dying would go to such lengths you had to save I.M.P. from uncertain doom?

ᯓ "What the fuck? How did you even manage to do this shit, fucktard!" You would yell, your body flushed with the flesh of your human disguise which made it so much more uncomfortable to run. Though you still hand onto Blitzo's wrist as he used his free hand to shoot back, trying to kill anyone who was daring to follow the group. "What-" Moxxiewould mumble, quickly jumping over a trash can that had been thrown carelessly on the sidewalk. He stumbled before regaining his footing, "Aren't you like- working for Verosika?! Shouldn't you be helping them get us, not . . . saving us? Is this even saving us? We're just running!" Though his confusion would fall onto death ears as Blitzo shot another bullet out of his gun, watching as it pierced through an officer's head and gushed out brains and guts on those behind him. You would shutter as Blitzo yelled, "I don't know, maybe someone," He would cough, obviously fibbed, "MOXXIE!" Again that fibbed cough, "shot the wrong target! And then the human police were called and they're on our ass because we KILLED SOMEONE, GENIUS! How else did you think we got here?" "Oh, I don't know, I thought you may have tried to FUCK a police officer!" You quipped back, "Oh, sorry, you fucking can't because you're scared of sexual relationships, my bad. I forgot!" "Oh please, you can't fucking forget because I know Verosika shit talks me to you every day! DON'T BE FUCKING PLAYING THE INNOCENT CARE ON ME." Blitzo would shoot back, not noticing as Moxxie had tripped over his own foot and almost fell; Though thankfully Millie had been there to catch him, lifting him up into her own arms so they could keep pace with the others. Loona, who was tired of having to hear the gunshots and the bickering betewen Blitzo and you, snapped; "Can we stop hate flirting for a second and fucking get out of here before one of us get shot?!"

ᯓ "WE'RE NOT HATE FLIRTING."

ᯓ "Yeah, because it's so much more convincing when you both say it at the same FUCKING time." Sarcasm dripped out of Loona's tongue as she slung her bag over her shoulders, bringing it in front of her. She began to rustle around for something as you feel a sudden coldness in your hand; Blitzo had drew his own wrist away from your touch. Cold, that's all you felt; and it stung sharp and harsh. Pitiless.

ᯓ You really had to stick out your neck for someone like that? Someone who now left you up and dry on his desk after 'hate-fucking' you? Why would you ever fuck someone as pathetic as that, had desperate had you been? . . . Had you even been desperate? You couldn't remember feeling desperate, like you usually forced yourself to feel when you fuck someone for power, or a purpose other than the alternative which isn't important. It couldn't be important when you were clearly the only one who felt the same and Blitzo just wanted some- "Oh good, you're awake." The sound of the door opening and closing jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to scurry and cover yourself. "I thought I was about to have to drag your ass to sleep on my couch, and that would have been a whole 'nother fucking problem." Blitzo would mumble, coming up behind you. You felt him linger, you wondered if he wanted to do something yet was too scared to do so; Which, you guessed was true because he walked around the desk without doing anything and sat down on his chair, sat down in front of you. Which was weird. This was all weird, you didn't know how to react seeing Blitzo, who was dressed, sitting in front of you drinking his coffee like you weren't literally butt ass naked on his desk. "What?" Blitzo muttered, noticing your staring. You would simply point at him and then the desk, trying to formulate the words that didn't want to stick together: "Are . . . we going to fucking pretend that you didn't just fuck me on your desk last night?"

ᯓ "Do you want me to pretend like I didn't just fuck you on my desk last night?" The question lingered in the air, bringing with it silence. Your eyes were kept on Blitzo's before they faltered away, looking down at the ground. Did you want him to pretend that he wasn't grunting and groaning your name last night, that you hadn't been clawing at his back and screaming his?

ᯓ Was that really what you wanted?

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ckret2 · 9 months

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On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble.

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow.

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you."

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub."

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly.

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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clarisse0o · 2 months

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Camp Wiegman-Part 32

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, January 8; 12:45 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I'm packing my suitcase while Alexia watches. The latest news has lifted my spirits. I've got the green light everywhere. Wiegman is allowing me to leave after my clean week. I was on time every day and didn’t snap back at any of my teachers when they provoked me for talking too much. Classes have become dull since we returned, as we're nearing the end, and there's nothing left to do. In two weeks, we'll finally change classes, and to my surprise, I got accepted into my first choice. Lucy couldn't resist filling me in on what went down in the meeting. It seems I barely made it, thanks to the support from Wiegman and my homeroom teacher, who found my efforts more than impressive. I managed to raise my average from six to twelve in just two weeks. That was proof enough for them of my hard work. I can't wait to find out about my new class and schedule now. Alexia, meanwhile, got into sports with her sister and Laia. As for me, I learned that I'll be with Leah, Alessia and Lotte. I'm pretty happy. At least I won't be alone.

- "What are you planning to do this weekend?" Ale asks me.

- "Nothing special. And you?"

- "I don't know yet. I really want to see Jenni, but I'm going to my grandparents' place."

I give her a sad smile. I feel sorry for her that she can't stay. I don't dare tell her that, unlike her, I won't be bored. Lucy is hosting me at her place this weekend. I've never been this excited, even though I try to hide it to avoid drawing attention. I'll finally get to see where my mentor lives. It’s a big deal.

- "Isn't Bronze coming to see you today?"

Oh, screw it. I'm tired of keeping secrets from her.

- "I'm going to her place..." I mumble quickly.

- "What?" she asks, her eyes wide.

- "Sorry... I know I should have told you earlier, but after your last reactions about her, I didn’t dare..." I say, biting my lip.

- "You could have told me! You know I'm not the one to criticize your relationship with Bronze."

- "Whoa, hold on. Our relationship doesn't go beyond friendship... At least, I think so. That's what she said we are..."

She chuckles at my nervousness. I playfully shove her, which makes her laugh even more.

- "You seem awfully nervous for a simple 'friendship,'" she teases.

- "It's Mapi and you who make me feel this way. I feel like we're doing something wrong. I assure you, I'm not interested in her the way you think."

- "Don't take it that way," she smiles. "I wasn't even talking about that kind of relationship. Anyway, I'm happy for you, or rather, for you. She never offered me friendship, so enjoy it."

- "I wanted to ask her about your relationship to see what she had against it, but I haven't had the chance."

- "Oh no, don't do that. The reasons don't matter to me. Besides, since you've been around, I feel like she appreciates me a bit more than before. But still, I've always wondered how you got close to her."

I sigh in resignation. Looks like it's time to explain everything to her. Mapi had already advised me to do so before she left — more like forced me. She argued that Alexia has a right to know if I trust her. I won't get a better opportunity to bring it up. I just hope Lucy never finds out...

- "To be honest, I confide in her about my past. She helps me deal with my demons, and that’s what brought us closer."

- "Oh," she says, surprised. "So she knows more than I do?"

- "She knows even more than Mapi," I chuckle at her expression. "I don’t know... Lucy has this way of making it easier to talk. It's like she understands my situation and has all the answers to my problems."

- "That's good, then. As long as it helps you, that's what's important, but be careful not to get lost in your feelings, because that can happen fast in situations like this."

- "Yeah... I know," I say with a small smile. "Well, I have to go. She's waiting for me outside."

- "Yep," she says, checking her watch. "I have to leave too. By the way, did you tell her about your nights?"

- "No."

- "You promised me you would," she scolds.

- "I know, but nothing's happened since then, so I didn't."

She gives me a stern look, showing her disappointment, as I expected. I can’t help it if she's naive enough to believe me. I've already got Lucy on my case about so many things. I don’t need her on this too.

- "It won’t come back to bite you, I promise."

- "Yeah, right. I wonder who knows her better between the two of us."

- "I'll take responsibility if she finds out. But I really have to go now. She'll scold me for taking too long."

- "Hmm... Have a good weekend," she grumbles.

I hug her and wish her a good weekend in return. Then I leave the room with my suitcase and backpack. Now that I’m out of sight, I smile with excitement. I reach Lucy's car, which she parked in the same spot as last time. I leave school without any regret. She might have refused to let me go back to Miami, but at least she didn’t stop me from leaving school. I told my mom that I’m staying with friends in Seattle using Alexia's phone. I also told Mapi the truth. I wanted at least one person to know what's going on. I’m not sure if Lucy has seen me yet. I assume she has when she opens the trunk from inside. Yet, when I join her up front, I find her on her phone. I give her one of my brightest smiles, expressing my current joy.

- "Hey," I say.

- "You're late," she reprimands, raising an eyebrow.

- "Sorry, Ale held me up."

- "Hmm."

- "Grumpy!"

- "No, that's you," she retorts with a wink.

I laugh as she drives off. She’s not wrong. Between the two of us, I’m the grumpy one. I always voice what’s wrong out loud. She tells me we need to stop by the supermarket to get some groceries first. It reminds me that she lives at school just as much as I do. It's strange doing something so mundane with her. I’m not used to seeing her outside of school. As usual, I watch the scenery go by, humming along to the music playing from the car speakers. After the second song by the same artist, I realize Lana Del Rey is playing.

- "I didn’t know you liked this kind of music."

- "Now you do. You don't?"

- "Oh, I do. I like it, even if I don't listen to it often."

- "I didn’t either at first," she laughs. "I ended up liking it."

I smile as she sings the chorus. It’s the first time I’ve heard her sing, and I enjoy her voice. I turn back to the window. I can’t tell where we are. I imagine she’s heading towards her neighborhood. We arrive at the supermarket she mentioned earlier. She hands me a token to get a cart. This scene is a déjà vu moment from a few months ago. Without complaining this time, I fetch the cart and join her at the store entrance.

- "Anything particular you want for tonight or the rest of the weekend?" she asks as we go down the aisles.

- "Are you planning on cooking every day?" I ask, surprised.

- "There’s more to life than fast food, in case you didn’t know," she laughs.

- "No, my question was more about whether you know how to cook... You’re not planning on poisoning me, are you?"

- "Now that you mention it, that’s a tempting idea."

- "Ha, ha, ha! You’re really sadistic when you want to be."

- "I know," she smiles. "And yes, I can cook."

- "I can’t wait to see your cooking skills then. I might even compare you to Sam."

- "What I didn’t tell you is that you're going to help me."

- "Oh... Well, it’s up to you if you want your kitchen on fire," I joke. "Sam doesn’t trust me enough to let me help."

- "You’ll help, and I promise to make sure you don’t burn anything," she teases, stopping at the butcher's counter. "But seriously, what do you want to eat?"

I glance at the perfectly displayed meat. At least it looks appetizing. I choose chicken cutlets, and she picks up some other things that I don’t pay attention to. We continue down other aisles as she gradually fills the cart while I follow her.

- "You really can’t cook?" she asks, picking up the conversation again.

- "I never had the chance to learn. When we moved to Barcelona, Sam was always there. And in Portugal, I used to bake with my grandmother sometimes, but that’s it. I tried cooking with Mapi once, but it was a disaster. Sam really scolded us that day when he saw the state of his kitchen," I laugh, remembering.

- "You must not be very good," she laughs. "I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few things this weekend if you’re up for it."

Her offer surprises me. No one has ever asked me if I wanted to learn how to cook, not even Sam. I smile and nod. I like the idea. I’ve always wanted to learn deep down.

- "Why not. How did you learn?"

- "I’ve been living alone for several years now, so I picked it up over time. I was like you at first," she admits. "So you’re not a lost cause, I promise," she says, ruffling my hair.

- "Can you tell me more about yourself...?"

- "Why?"

- "I don’t know, I’d like to get to know you... The real you, outside of school. You know a lot about me, so I thought... Maybe it could be mutual now."

- "We’ll see. You might learn a few things about me this weekend."

My eyes light up. It’s the first time she hasn’t flatly refused this request. I was expecting her to brush me off. Our shopping comes to an end. At the checkout, she confirms that we’ll be going out with her friends tomorrow night. She asked me about it yesterday, and I was pretty excited. I’m curious to see what kind of people she hangs out with. Although I was hesitant about not knowing anyone, she reassured me by saying Ingrid and Jenni would be there. Once done, we head back to the car where we load the groceries in the back seat since the trunk is full of our stuff. I bombard her with questions until we arrive at her place, such as, "Are we in your neighborhood now?" and "How long have you lived in Manchester ?" She surprises me by answering everything. I learned that she’s been living here since her college years and moved here with Jenni. I gathered that their friendship and bond go way back and that they’re both from Portugal. Their friendship seems similar to the one I have with Mapi, though theirs probably goes back much further. She told me they were roommates in Jenni’s apartment before she got one of her own after they both started dating. Since then, she’s been living in the apartment she’s in now. This conversation kept us occupied until we arrived in front of a building. From what I can see, it’s a quiet, upscale neighborhood. The building’s exterior is inviting. I thought she would park outside, but she pulls into an underground garage with multiple parking spots and garages. I’m not sure if she has a garage, but she parks in a space.

- "Please tell me... Either you live on the ground floor or have an elevator, because I'm not climbing all those stairs with all our stuff."

- "What? Aren’t you in need of some exercise?" she teases. "Oh, right. You don’t like jogging.

"- "Ah, ah, ah! You told me we’d pick it back up when the weather was better outside!"

- "You pick it back up," she corrects me. "I never stopped. Come on, Miss Lazy, let’s move. We’ve got an elevator waiting."

I don’t hide my relief. I quickly follow her outside to help with our suitcases and the grocery bags. It’s a good thing there’s an elevator with all the stuff we have to carry. I learn as we press the elevator button that she lives on the seventh and second-to-last floor.

- "Thanks again for having me."

- "No problem. I hope you’ll like it."

- "I’m sure I will. It can’t be worse than school."

The elevator dings, and Lucy lets me exit first, pointing to her apartment door. She sets the grocery bag down to unlock the door. Once again, she lets me enter first. I step in hesitantly, taking in her apartment. I’m left speechless just seeing the living room. I didn’t expect something so beautiful and... my style. She gives me a gentle nudge so she can pass by and head toward the kitchen while I explore the space. It’s a large open-concept living area that stretches horizontally. I move towards the kitchen, which is in the back right corner. Everything is new. It’s a true American-style kitchen, just the way I love. It’s separated from the rest by a bar that hides the countertop. There are high stools in front, just like in my kitchen in Miami. A large light-wood dining table sits just in front of the bar, with black chairs that contrast with the brightness of the room. Most of the furniture matches the table’s color. When I look the other way, I notice that all the walls are white except for the left one, which is covered in dark gray brick. It blends harmoniously with the rest. A TV is mounted on that wall, with a large sectional sofa and a small wooden table. The two spaces are clearly defined. I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping, but even if she offers me the couch, I think I wouldn’t mind since it looks so comfortable. It’s probably more comfortable than my small bed at school. I only have one word: Wow. It’s a dream apartment!

- "Do you like my apartment?" she asks with a playful grin.

- "If you ever think about selling it... You’ll think of me, right?"

- "I’m not planning on selling it," she chuckles.

- "In that case, can you take me as a roommate? I promise I’ll be quiet on the couch!"

She laughs, saying she’s glad I like it so much, but unfortunately, she’s not looking for a roommate. I finally take off my jacket and help her unpack the groceries. I’m not much help since I don’t know where most things go, but she shows me where everything belongs. All her cupboards and the fridge were empty, proof that she’s hardly ever home.

- "Why get an apartment on your own when you’re almost never here?"

- "I wasn’t alone at first. I just kept it because I needed a place to go outside of work. Plus, you said it yourself... how could I give up an apartment like this?"

- "True, but still!"

I put away the last item in my hand, then settle on one of the high stools as she offers me a drink from the other side of the bar. I accept when I see her pouring herself something. She places it in front of me before leaning on the counter.

- "Why stay at the camp when you have an apartment like this? Seriously, if I were you, I’d come back every night."

- "It’s mandatory to stay... well," she corrects herself, "I volunteered to stay at first, and it just stuck."

- "But you never do night patrols."

- "Other instructors handle night surveillance."

- "Really? How many are there?"

- "Six. One per floor on both sides."

- "Still, your job really isn’t conducive to a normal life. You can’t even have a family life! Doesn’t that bother you? Well, I guess it wouldn’t if you don’t want a wife and kids."

- "Of course I’d like a relationship and maybe even a family if the person I’m with wanted that."

- "Then why don’t you leave the camp?"

- "I don’t plan on staying there forever. I have plans."

- "Really? You never told me. You’re not going to abandon me in the middle of the year, are you?"

- "No. If I leave, it’ll be at the end of the school year."

I sigh with relief. I can’t imagine finishing the year without her. She smiles at me before downing her drink in one go.

- "Come on. I’ll show you your room."

- "I’m not sleeping on the couch?"

- "Why, do you want to?"

- "It already looks more comfortable than my bed at camp. It’d be fine by me."

- "It is, but I also have a second bedroom. Which do you prefer?" she teases.

- "I think the bedroom will do," I say, making her laugh.

We grab our suitcases, and I follow her to the double doors in the middle of the living room, between the kitchen and the living room. She opens them to reveal a hallway with five doors. She skips the first two and opens the second one on the right.

- "Here’s your room. Mine is right across."

- "Thanks for welcoming me like this. You didn’t have to."

- "No problem," she smiles softly. "Well, I’m going to put my things away. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is there if you need it," she points to the door between the two bedrooms.

I nod, and she disappears into the room opposite mine. We leave our doors open, but I quickly lose sight of her. The room she’s offering me for two days is cozy and modern. I have a large double bed where I’ll likely sleep very well tonight. There’s also a desk and a chair that complete the room, along with two large lamps as decoration. For storage, there’s a large built-in wardrobe near the window with three large sliding doors, one of which is a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I love this type of wardrobe. They don’t take up much space and are very practical. The walls are white, but the dark furniture contrasts again. I put my suitcase down without unpacking. I don’t plan to impose myself by using the wardrobe. I don’t even know if there’s anything inside, and I don’t want to find out. I leave everything in place and go to join Lucy, leaning against her bedroom doorframe. I watch her put her things away in the same wardrobe as the one in my room. Her room is just as large as the other. There are just more personal items, and the desk is replaced by a small couch facing a small TV on a matching stand.

- "Already done?"

- "I just dropped off my suitcase. Your room is cool."

- "Thanks. You can come in, you know," she invites me.

I step timidly into the room and decide to sit on the bed, watching her put her things away.

- "Is yours okay for you?"

- "It’s perfect. Nothing could be worse than the one at camp anyway."

- "True," she chuckles. "And the one at home?"

- "Slightly bigger than this one."

- "You mean twice the size, I imagine."

- "Well... yeah," I laugh. "I can’t help it if my mom has money."

- "Oh, I didn’t say anything."

- "Your apartment would be perfect for me. It’s really nice."

- "Glad you think so. Do you want to go out tonight?"

- "Honestly? I’d rather stay here and do something low-key if you don’t mind."

- "Not at all. I was just suggesting. I’d rather stay in too. You could use some rest. You’ve had dark circles under your eyes lately."

- "Movie night?" I suggest to change the subject.

- "Why not. We could make a pizza to eat in front of the TV. And maybe some popcorn for dessert."

- "I love that plan. You know I adore you, right?"

- "Doesn’t take much, does it?" she laughs.

- "It’s nice to have a normal evening in a normal apartment."

She offers me a sympathetic smile. A comfortable silence falls as she finishes unpacking her things. She lives the life I’d like to have. I sincerely hope to get there someday.

- "Can I take a shower before all that?"

- "Sure, of course. You can go now. The bathroom is next to your room."

- "Okay, thanks."

I go to grab my bath things and pajamas from my suitcase. I step out of the room at the same time as Lucy. She decides to accompany me to show me how her shower works and to make sure I have everything I need. I doubt her instructions are necessary when I see how modern the bathroom is. She has a walk-in shower and even a clawfoot tub right next to it. It makes me feel like her apartment is huge. She has storage under the sink and a column next to it. There are also shelves where her towels are stored. She places a large and a small towel beside the sink for me. The last thing she does before giving me space is show me where the essentials, like the hairdryer, are. I put my things where there’s room, then undress to step into the shower. I close my eyes to enjoy the soothing hot water. I don’t stay too long, remembering I’m not at home. When I get out, I wrap myself in the large towel and do the same with the small one for my hair. I dry off quickly to put on my pajamas, which consist of an oversized T-shirt and shorts. She’s seen me in worse, so I shouldn’t feel self-conscious. Before returning to the living room, I dry my hair a bit more and make sure to tidy up and fold my clothes. I smile when I see her behind the bar, cooking. The environment feels strange, but it’s very pleasant. She smiles immediately when she sees me. I blush when I catch her eyeing me with surprise. She quickly regains her composure. For the first time, I see a hint of embarrassment on her cheeks.

- "Sorry, I didn’t expect you to come out dressed like that."

- "No worries... I thought it wouldn’t be a problem."

- "It’s not," she reassures me.

- "Do you need any help?"

- "No, it’s fine, I’m almost done."

I sit back on the bar stool I used earlier. I watch her sprinkle a handful of grated cheese over the freshly made pizza. I’m a bit disappointed she didn’t wait for me to make it.

- "It looks good."

- "You can tell me what you think when you taste it," she says with a small smile. "Can you keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn while I take a shower?"

- "Yep," I reply as she puts it in the oven. "Can I make myself useful in the meantime? Set the table, for instance?"

-« If you want. You can bring everything over to the small table. »

She points out the cupboards and drawers before disappearing into the hallway. It's funny how easily we manage to coexist. I could easily get used to this. I take advantage of her absence to bring everything over to the small table in the living room, as she instructed. The TV is already on a music channel. I allow myself to sit on the couch and flip through channels to find something interesting. I realize it's been ages since I’ve done something so ordinary. My moment is interrupted when I hear the bathroom door open. Lucy’s return leaves me speechless. I fully understand the effect she had earlier. Unlike me, she’s wearing a tank top that flatters her perfectly, and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun that makes her look very cute. I can't stop staring at her. But she ignores me and checks the pizza in the oven. For the first time, I notice a tattoo on her arm. I didn’t even know she had one. I quickly turn away when she finally glances at me.

- "Caught staring, Batlle."

I blush furiously. I'm glad she can't see me right now. I don’t remember ever seeing her this undressed before. She must have been like this in front of me during my withdrawal, but I don’t recall. It has more of an effect on me than seeing her in her regular clothes instead of her uniform. I jump when her hand touches my shoulder.

- "I’m talking to you, Ona."

- "Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What were you saying?" I ask, mustering the courage to turn around.

- "I was asking if you’ve already picked a movie? Or maybe even a show?"

- "Hmm, I’m not sure," I say, thinking. "Harry Potter?"

- "Harry Potter?" She raises an eyebrow.

- "I’ve seen them all, but never in order. If you don’t want to watch them, I’ll do it alone when I have the time."

- "No, no, that works for me."

- "If you don’t like—"

- "I like the series," she chuckles. "I was just surprised by your choice. »

I smile and nod eagerly. I get up to retrieve it at her direction. When I return to the living room, Lucy has put the pizza on the small table and is sitting on the couch. I smile when I notice she’s serving us.

- "What do you want to drink?"

- "Water, please.

Lucy is already using the remote to find the first Harry Potter movie. This is even better than the evening I imagined. I take a sip of my drink as she starts the movie. I shift to find a more comfortable position. I groan when I realize I forgot to get my plate. Lucy laughs, understanding my dilemma, and brings it over to me.

- "Thank you," I whisper.

- "Go ahead, give it a taste."

She says this before taking her first bite. I had set out utensils, but it seems she doesn’t plan on using them. One thing is for sure: it looks delicious. I don’t waste any time digging in, making sure to keep my plate under my chin to avoid messing up her furniture. I moan in pleasure as the pizza’s flavors hit my taste buds.

- "Oh, damn. This is amazing!"

Lucy laughs at me. This pizza could be compared to one of the seven wonders of the world, and I mean that.

- "How did you manage to hide your culinary talents for so long?"

- "It’s just a pizza, you know," she laughs.

- "Exactly! I can’t imagine what it would be like if you made a proper dish. Sam has made me pizzas before, but they were never as good as this one."

- "We’ll see how yours turns out when you make one for me someday."

- "I already told you I’m a walking disaster. Sam even banned me from using his kitchen when he’s not around."

- "I’m not surprised," she laughs. "You seem close to him."

- "Yeah, he’s become a close friend. He’s really cool. I really should introduce you to all of them sometime."

- "That’ll be hard."

- "Not if we keep in touch after the school year ends..."

- "We’ll see," she smiles.

Our evening continues with various conversations while we enjoy her pizza. The movie serves as background noise. I don’t mind. The first Harry Potter is probably the one I know best from watching it so often. We waited until it ended before putting our plates in the dishwasher and making popcorn. We moved on to the second and then the third movie before deciding we’d had enough for the night. We were both exhausted from our week—especially me—so we decided to head to bed. I was more than happy to crawl into a comfortable, cozy bed where I had no trouble falling asleep.

Saturday, January 9th, 03:20 AM - At Lucy’s place.

I sit up in a panic, realizing that I’m trembling. I look around to remind myself where I am, which only makes me more anxious. I hope I didn’t scream or anything, but I quickly realize my hopes are in vain when the bedroom door flies open to reveal a worried Lucy. I try to hide my shaking, but it’s impossible as it worsens. Lucy quickly understands what’s happening and grabs my cheeks to make me look at her. I see her lips moving, but no words reach my ears. She pulls me into her chest. I resist at first, but eventually, I collapse into her embrace, desperately clinging to her shirt. It takes five minutes or maybe more for her voice to finally reach my ears. My senses slowly return. I bury myself deeper into her when I feel her fingers gently running through my hair.

- "It’s going to be okay. I’m here now."

- "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," I repeat over and over between breaths.

- "It’s nothing, just a nightmare."

Tears stream down my face ever since she arrived. I’m sticky with sweat, but that doesn’t stop Lucy from holding me close.

- "I-I should have... I should have told you... Ale told me to."

- "Shh, calm down. I already know."

- "W-What?"

- "Alexia came to talk to me. I already know. I asked her not to tell you so you’d come to me yourself, so calm down."

She gently rocks me. It’s soothing, but not enough. Especially after what she just revealed. I panic when she tries to pull away from me. It only makes me cling to her tighter.

- "Hey, I’m not going anywhere."

At those words, I allow myself to pull back. Fear flashes in my eyes the second she gets up from my bed. She smiles at me tenderly.

- "Relax, I’m not going far. Do you want to sleep with me?"

I look at her in surprise. I didn’t expect her to ask that.

- "You don’t mind?" I ask, lowering my head. "Isn’t that crossing the line for a student-instructor relationship...?"

- "I suppose we can overlook that detail in this situation, and besides, we’ve moved past that point a long time ago... Come on, go lie down in my bed, I’ll get you some water, okay? I won’t be long."

- "Thank you..."

She helps me out of bed, and we leave the room. I walk straight ahead while she heads to the living room. The little light is on in the room. At least I won’t bump into any walls or furniture. I slip under the covers, choosing the spot near the wall. I think I picked the right spot, feeling the coldness set in. I pull the blanket up to my chin, clutching it tightly to find warmth. Lucy wasn’t lying when she said she’d be back quickly. She brought me a glass of water, just as promised. I sit up to drink it all in one go before handing it back to her. She places it on her nightstand and then lies down beside me. I immediately feel her warmth.

- "I didn’t know which side to take..." I say timidly.

- "You chose well," she reassures me. "Do you feel better?"

I nod, though it’s not entirely true. Her presence is comforting, that’s all. She gives me one last smile before turning off the light. I feel her shifting to get comfortable. Not sure how to react, I lie on my back, staring into the darkness. I jump when her arm drapes over my stomach.

- "Relax, Ona. Turn around."

I do as she says and turn my back to her. I’m not sure if this is the position she wanted, but it’s the one I want to avoid facing her. She doesn’t say anything, simply pressing her chest against my back. Her hand rests on my stomach, gently stroking it. She’s so close that I can feel her breath against my hair. I feel strangely safe. It’s as if my panic attack never happened.

- "Thank you..." I whisper.

She closes the small gap between us in response. Before I fall asleep, I let my hand rest on hers, as if to make sure she won’t leave.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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deafsignifcantother · 5 months

Text

the baby

♥ summary: almost loosely based off of this by @ukor02. This is really just a small little writing thing I did at 4am. ♥ relationship: no direct romance really, just some cute stuff between Lucifer and reader. ♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ notes: no childbirth mentioning and this is written like just as summaries of the situation tbh, almost like a bullet point format without the bullet points, the entire cast are characters, hospital scene, I made Alastor a main character and her main bestie because of course I did, reader is happy to be a mother

You wanted to give your baby a chance to get into Heaven, even if it meant they'd leave without you. Hell is no place for a child. Both you and Charlie knew that.

"What a pleasant surprise," you sign to Alastor when you see that damn smiling demon right outside your hotel room.

He laughs; aw, you're describing his arrival as pleasant. Did he make a good impression on you when you saw him last when he introduced himself in person in Pride Sign Language? You never seemed to have paid any mind to him, giving one motion signs as responses whenever he tried starting a conversation. But even when you interacted with him like that, he couldn't help but wonder why you always looked at him with your sweet, shy gaze. It's not on purpose, which is the worst part.

Pleasant, you called it a pleasant surprise.

"It's good to see you too, my dear!" He signs, bowing a bit and pushing past you into your room. "What have you been up to?"

What an obnoxious question.

You close the door, squeezing the doorknob tightly. This is going to be a long evening. When you turn back to Alastor, he's in your living room examining the decor, your random art pieces taped to the walls and organized together, though not concisely.

He waves his hands. "I love what you've done with the place."

"I've been bored." You sign with a slight nod to yourself. It's awfully isolating, which is obvious. Still, it has never hit you as hard as it does now as you watch another person walk through your chambers.

"I'm glad I can be in your company then." His smile widens, and the static he emits gets heavier. His ear twitched a bit, which you noticed but tried not to directly look at. Was it a good or bad thing?

"But it's often relieving to be alone," you start and look him up and down.

"You're quite used to being alone, aren't you?"

Your lips tighten, your hands stiff, and you are unable to finish your sentence. Absentmindedly, you rest them on your plump, pregnant belly. Alastor does his best not to let his eyes draw down to analyze it. Still, his head tilts, even just a little. He hates looking at your hands when you touch your stomach. Did his mother hold her belly like that when he was inside of hers?

"Don't you have others to talk to?"

"They're out on their little journeys, you know them."

"Of course."

Alas, he lets his eyes trail down to your stomach. It's not quite full, but it's obvious enough to gain attention from others. Charlie will put her hands on it every day, waiting for the baby to show its presence. She can feel the heartbeat, and so can you and Vaggie, though everybody else can't feel a thing. Alastor refuses to put a hand on your stomach. Life is precious and loud, and the few who were never human understand that differently than the others.

"I wanted to check in on the baby."

A twitch of your eyebrow makes his smile widen.

"Why?"

The day before, Lucifer arrived.

You try on your best clothes, laying them flat against your front, looking at your belly in the mirror. For the king, should you try to hide it or show it proudly? He has a daughter, but does that affect his thoughts about Hellborn pregnancies? Gosh, what do you have to worry about? So stupid.

With the other people, your new friends, you stood with your head proud.

He swirled with the dragons and hugged his daughter as if he hadn't seen her for years. What a kind man, unusually kind. His eyes... Those soft, precious eyes. And when they landed on you, your heart almost stopped. He looked at you as if you were an angel. When his lips started to move, the smile you didn't even know you wore faded.

Charlie put her hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him. And there came Alastor, saving the day.

"The idiotic king was just telling you how happy he is for you." With the signs came the grinding of his teeth.

Lucifer approached, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He addressed Alastor with aggressive hesitance. 'Tell her...' he said.

Charlie smiled excitedly, Nifty kept nodding, and Sir Pentious's eyes started tearing up.

Alastor grimaced. "He's asking if he could feel your stomach."

As always, you've put a thorn in the flow of interactions.

Still, you put on a smile. "Of course."

And there you stood, the King of Hell's hands gently holding you. You could feel the cold of his touch even through the fabric of your shirt. The heartbeat vibrated through both your body and his. The baby was alive and well; you could tell through the pure glee that spread across his face. Beyond your tiny ounce of worry, you knew he'd find hope within your baby.

Alastor watched with a terribly strained smile.

"Why?" You ask again when he doesn't answer. "What's with the sudden worry?"

"Worry? No, no." Alastor waves you off. "More like..."

You watch with interest as he trails off, a vulnerability you love.

He squints his eyes and clenches his fists, but only for a moment. His lack of vocabulary kills him. "...Intrigue."

You crack a smirk. "Are you finally gonna feel my stomach?"

Another pause. Alastor considers it, but all he can imagine is his claws accidentally drawing blood.

"No."

"That's okay." Again, your hands rest on your stomach.

Alastor has been watching it grow, but so has Lucifer. Charlie's father scarcely visits, and you've convinced yourself it's to see you. Every time he enters the hotel, he asks how you are. He tries to lift his hands to sign but finds no words forming. A language was created in his world, and he has yet to learn how to learn it.

Whenever he presses his hands against your belly, he can feel the liveliness of the soul forming inside you, and he can feel your appreciation at his care.

Begrudgingly, he always has to ask Alastor for advice on communicating with you. Alastor always has a cocky smirk when he teaches.

Charlie has to ask Alastor for help, too, but more willingly. Alastor raises his chin and squares shoulders when people ask him for help. Charlie went to him for help on a conversation you knew she was going to start with you:

"You're not going to stay here for the battle."

"I know." There was no argument on your behalf. Charlie's cheeks still went pink.

"But I have to figure out where it's safest for you. Alastor told me Cannibal Town, but uhh... Maybe not."

"They'll all be here anyway. Maybe they'll distract the angels from going over there."

Her bright eyes widen a bit. "Do you think so?"

"I can stay over there, even if they try to eat me." They won't, and even if they try, they know Alastor would end their lives, don't they?

She fiddles with her fingers before lifting them up again. "I suppose..."

She's so quickly convinced it's cute. You're right, though, of course. Cannibal Town might be the safest place, specifically under the hands of Rosie, who Alastor had previously told you would be more than willing to help you. You can imagine her smile at seeing your belly, twice the size as when Alastor first told you about her. Unbeknownst to Charlie, he's been planning this for a while.

Your stress for their safety irks you more than you expected.

You place a hand on Charlie's, lifting your other one. "I'll be okay."

Before you left for Cannibal Town, you met Lucifer once again, a more loving side of him. He cradled your head and held the back of your neck as he did. His cold body felt like warmth to you. He whispered things to you; you could only tell from how his breath constantly brushed against your ear in sing-songy waves. Was he singing to you? A lullaby? He pulled away and finally signed to you. "You're going to be a great mom."

A moment before, Alastor finally put his hands on your belly. His hands were warm. Like Lucifer, he was whispering to himself, holding silent words from you. In another life, you'd imagine they were prayers. At that moment, only an instinct, you put your hands on his, and he allowed it.

The stress of their safety worsened when they were left alone in Cannibal Town without a word of winning or losing.

The winning of Hell was all you wanted to focus on when you noticed the contractions getting worse, spaced out in purposeful ways. Oh goodness, you found yourself thinking, oh my God.

What if Lucifer dies on the same day your child is born?

But after the battle, he was right there to cradle the baby in his arms, his heavenly grasp relaxing the tiny baby. The rest of the group sat in your room, Sir Pentious absent, tears in their eyes at both the birth and the death.

Beyond Lucifer's cradling, Husk was the only one who touched your child that day. He placed his furry paw against the baby, feeling the body heat that they admitted. Life could be beautiful, he decided.

Vaggie's sense of revenge deepened. She sacrificed Heaven to save a child, and now she's even more than willing to kill her sisters to save yours.

While Charlie stares at your baby with tears, Alastor smiles warmly at you. He knew you could do it: birth something beautiful and worth protecting.

Your eyes are locked on Lucifer. He's an amazing, supportive dad to Charlie, and your heart begins to swell. Your heartbeat increases, and a blush weakly forms on your already flushed face. His rough hands hold a forgiving softness. He's beautiful.

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