#like it’s all gonna come out jumbled and a mess and offensive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tswwwit · 2 years

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Have a very long post with many dumb jokes and also pornblography! I do not have a title for it yet because my brain is very bad and titles are hard. Again, NSFW! And it's just about 16k words so beware of Long Post.

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Dipper shoves himself out of the water, shaking mud out of his hair. He coughs, twice, then gasps, sucking in the air.

Did it work-?

He struggles to his knees, churning up the muddy silt from the lakebed, and looks over towards the treeline.

Smoke from the explosion drifts over the treetops. The forest is rife with birds flying away and scattering animals, the fire low in the distance - And judging by the state of the beach, uh.

There’s a jumble of stuff that looks like charred driftwood. Until you look at it closer.

Dipper sits back, water sloshing around his waist. He lets out a slow, shaking breath.

Yeah. It worked.

The other monstrous mess on the shore is standing among the wreckage. Intact, smug, handsome. Other adjectives that are less flattering.

And he’s doubled over laughing.

“You shoulda seen it!” It wasn’t that funny, damn it. Absolutely not knee-slappingly funny, but try telling that to this asshole. Bill does it again, cackling. “You took off so fast it was like-” He makes a gesture that might be a fish leaping, or a particularly inelegant human flailing in an arc. “And the landing!”

Dipper lifts a hand from the muck to flip him off. Not very seriously; he’s too relieved that it’s over with to get truly mad.

A stupid insane plan. An effective plan. Not entirely Bill’s idea, though he went along with it easily enough; he loves danger.

Though Dipper’s pretty sure Bill’s contribution to the explosive curse could have been at least halved. It’s something to keep in mind for later.

He gets up slowly, wiping off the mud and what water he can from himself. Trudging to the shore, wringing out his shirt. Now he really needs a shower.

Bill glances over him, hands on his hips. “You look like a drowned rat.”

Dipper gives his husband the same lookover, slowly, to make a point. “You look like a burned one.” Bill’s suit is almost entirely ruined. “With jaundice.”

Bill makes a mock gasp of offense, clasping a hand to the remnants of his shirt. It’s quickly followed by the resurge of the grin.

“It mighta messed up my style a bit, sure.” Bill says with a shrug. The remnants of the yellow suit jacket cling to his elbows, and his hair’s a mess. “Yet somehow, I’m still better dressed!”

“That’s a matter of taste.” Dipper shakes his feet, trying to get some of the clinging water out of the cuffs of his pants. He knocks his shoes against the ground to clear some mud off. “Yours is bad.”

“This coming from the guy rocking ‘slime monster from the deep’.” Bill shakes his head. “That went outta style in the fifteen hundreds, easily.”

Dipper narrows his eyes, stalking closer until they could almost touch. He leans in, very close - Bill matches it, beaming with pleasure.

And with a satisfying ‘smack’, Dipper plants a palmful of mud right on his smug, asshole face.

Bill splutters, and Dipper trails muck down his body in a straight line. One heading right from his stupid face, down over all the clean bits of his shirt.

“I dunno, Bill.” Dipper says, taking a step back as Bill’s expression turns from surprise to absolute indignance. Now he’s the one smiling. “I think it suits you.”

Bill blinks for a moment. Mud dripping off his chin, annoyance sliding off his face.

His grin switches back on, wide and white.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it for that insult,” He purrs. Dipper tries to dart back, but Bill already has a grip on his waist. “Come here.”

Dipper kicks his legs, he struggles and he swears - This impossible, terrible monster picks him up again, swinging him around.

And he’s laughing, despite all of that, when Bill dunks him right back into the lake.

When they walk back to the Shack together, it’s long into the evening. The sun’s gone down, and the last bit of red is fading from the horizon.

Bill swings their joined hands, humming a tune to himself. The other one lights up the way back, a bright blue flame over his palm.

“Gotta love a good date,” He says, sounding deeply self-satisfied. The pace he’s taken is fast enough to make Dipper speedwalk. “It’s been too long!”

“You’ve been busy,” Dipper reminds him, nudging his husband with an elbow. Some crusted mud flakes off at the contact.

Bill breathes in, looking like he’s about to retort. Then sighs. “Yeah, fine. Gotta give ya that one.” Bill’s mouth purses in irritation. “What can I say! I got a lot of plans that need attention right now.” His eye glimmers in the dark of the evening, gold and brightly lit. “A lot of plans.”

None of which he’s telling Dipper about.

“Have fun, I guess.” Dipper’s not going to ask. He knows better. “I hope you fail.”

Bill’s got his evil, demonic business - but to balance it out, Dipper’s got his own, human stuff. Sometimes, like their date, Bill even helps out with it. Despite being a demonic king of nightmares and torment, he’s easily coaxed into other stuff, if it’s entertaining.

Though sometimes, it only means spending time with Dipper.

Bill always claims he didn't have anything better to do. There’s no guessing how true that is.

“You’re a menace,” BIll says fondly, though his grin starts to fade. He slows in his tracks as the Shack comes into view in the distance. “And speaking of, I gotta get back.”

Dipper halts in place. Turning towards his demon with an incredulous look. “Again?”

A few days apart is okay, Dipper guesses. Pretty normal, they have their own stuff to do. They text or call everyday they can’t meet. That’s fine.

But it’s been way longer than a few days.

It’s been ages since they’ve even seen each other, much less hung out, and they’re married. They finally made time for a date, everything was going well, Dipper was… kind of expecting more to the evening -

And Bill’s just leaving? Now?

“I said I’m busy, sapling.” To his credit, Bill does sound like he regrets it. He winks, clicking his tongue. “I know, I know, you’ll miss me! Now c’mon, do the honors.”

The Mindscape, right. Sending him back to his realm of nightmares.

Dipper sighs. “Yeah, alright.” It’s part of their contract, anyway.

He sets a palm on Bill’s chest. It’s warm, with a rapid pulse under his palm. Some more mud flakes off from where it’s dried on the ruins of Bill’s shirt. He starts to concentrate -

“Ahem.” Bill clears his throat. One eyebrow raised. “Not the honors you should start with.” He leans in. This time, Dipper leans away.

He knows what Bill wants. And he’s not doing it. Not in this state, and especially not when he’s ditching Dipper for some godawful reason.

Bill remains undeterred. “It’s demon stuff, Pine Tree,” He says, sounding a bit pouty. Knowing Dipper’s annoyed - but clearly not getting the reason, if he’s still taking off. “You don’t wanna hear it! Or get involved with it.”

And yeah, Dipper doesn’t.

That doesn’t mean he can’t hate it from afar.

Bill moves in for a kiss again, and Dipper turns away. Again. They’re both filthy and he doesn’t want mud in his mouth. Spite, though, is definitely part of it.

“I’ll see you later, Bill.” He says, and shoves his idiot husband back into his stupid demon realm.

Bill vanishes, instantaneously. Sometimes Dipper’s not a fan of the transition, it’s literally quick as thought - but this time it means Bill doesn’t get to try whatever excuse he was coming up with..

Dipper shoves his hands in his pockets, head down. Stalking back home, and frowning.

‘Demon stuff’.

Under any metric, their relationship is. Weird.

Dipper stumbled into the demon side flirtation, and Bill knows how humans do things. They’ve been meeting somewhere in the middle ever since. Dipper’s learned a lot, and Bill knows humans. He’s even willing to dip his own toes into the typical human stuff, with surprising insight and the appropriate success.

Bill was even having fun earlier, with purely human things, that - had some violence, admittedly.

But the explosion wasn’t what made Bill smile, and the litter of body parts didn’t make him laugh.

…Unless it did.

Dipper drags a hand over his face. He can’t deny that he’s hip-deep in the demonic side of relationships. It’s how they got their start.

No normal human would think exploding a corpse-eater was a date. It was demonic to its core -

…And. Not a great one, apparently.

Bill’s whole MO Is demonic stuff. He’s made for it, spent eons on it. It’s entertaining. Running off to do some ‘big plan’, sure, that makes sense for him. It’s more interesting.

Why his husband doesn’t rank on Bill’s priority list is-

Dipper drops his arm back to his side, before he burns another handprint into the doorframe.

Whatever version of demonic ‘seduction’ Dipper’s managed to cobble together. It must not be very compelling. Bill’s interested, sure - but not enough to linger once things get boring. He thinks it’s totally fine to just take off at any moment.

Dipper rubs at his eyes. He stands in the doorway of the Mystery Shack, looking up into the wooden slats of the ceiling.

But then Human romance never worked out for Dipper. Then demon romance.... Kind of did? By accident. Under anyone’s critique, he’d rank far below expert.

Maybe…

He’s missing something?

Obviously Dipper’s never going to catch Bill’s eye with human stuff, when it’s never worked on other humans - and while he’s gotten a hang of demonic flirting, he’s never been a dating expert.

Dipper drums his fingers against the doorframe, eyes narrowing.

If it weren’t for everything else he has at hand. He might have been at a loss. But part of being married to a demon, and visiting his infinite terrible realm, means Dipper can get to things no other human could.

He nods once. Firm, and certain, clenching a fist.

It’s time to do research.

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

Finding information about demonic courtship ends up far easier than he expected.

And less convenient than he hoped.

Dipper should have remembered before he came up with this idea. His phone only works for contacting Bill whenever he wants. It’s powered by an infinite, triangular battery, its network hitching off a ride on a life-bond.

It made it easy to forget a very pertinent, pivotal point for his research.

There’s no internet in the Mindscape.

No demon worth their salt would give out free information. Sometimes they write things down, in diaries, dangerous tomes of spells, etcetera - but they’re hoarded like the precious things they are.

Instead, they go in hard on gossip. Everything’s up for trade as a favor, or used as a bribe. Knowledge is power, and in demon society? There’s always a power play going on. It’s a constant game of keeping their friends close, and their enemies closer. As far as Dipper can tell, the two are often the same thing.

Deals were completely off the table, for marriage reasons. Bribes were okay, but hard to figure out. It could even have dragged Dipper into demon drama, which is something even Bill avoids. It could have been an ordeal that came a huge cost, one he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - pay.

For once in Dipper’s life, he actually got lucky.

Turns out being Bill Cipher’s spouse opens all kinds of doors.

A few comments, a couple of bribes - snack cakes are popular, he’s noting this all down later to share with Ford - and a few memorized threats? All while name dropping Bill?

It got him everything he could ask for.

….Considering the topic, there might also be gossip going on - but he’ll deal with that later.

Right now, Dipper kicks his feet up on the ottoman, and clicks his pen. Notebook ready, research material at hand.

No other human has ever had this much demon-made writing to go through. Not without having their eyes burned out of their skull, or their soul taken in a bargain. Dipper spends a moment feeling proud.

It might be dangerous, but Dipper’s smart. He’s cautious. He’s got demon magic built right into his soul. He’s also got plenty of time, no sleep to worry about, and piles of resources, carefully gathered.

He’s got this.

Dipper picks a bit of spiderweb off the top magazine on his pile, and flips through it. Skimming over articles, pen at the ready.

And pauses.

He flips a couple more pages, leaning back a little in his seat.

This. Isn’t what he expected. It’s also not not what he expected, but. It might be a fluke, so he tosses that issue aside, picking up another.

Then another.

Dipper flips through a few more, with increasing desperation.

In every issue - in every magazine - The article titles shout back at him with their bright exclamation marks:

How To Get Them To Fight You In 10 Easy Steps!

Obtuse or A-CUTEY - How To Get In Shape For Summoning!

Top Twelve Exoskeleton Buffs for YOUR Intended!

Simple Ways To Even Out Your Angles In Just One Century !

Do They REALLY Hate You? Find Out With This Quiz!

Dipper rubs at his eyes.

Not… his best call. Getting his hopes up. Even thinking he’d get some kind of academic article was downright dumb. He knows that isn’t up most demon’s alleys.

Bill would know where to find studies, and statistics. If they exist. He likely has entire tomes on the subject, if only to laugh at them -

And he’s the last person Dipper can ask.

He ditches that idea, as well as the issue of Cosmophage he was skimming through. He picks up a Playbaal instead.

More of the same in this magazine. Though a lot more racy. Dipper makes a face at the letters to the executioner section - they’re gory and unbelievable. No human is that dumb, and that’s coming from him. Nobody offers themself up on a literal silver platter.

Two hours later, Dipper’s still made zero headway. He’s also slumped in his seat, almost lying down in the chair.

At this point, it’s getting boring.

He is learning a lot about demonic fantasies, and something of their proclivities - but he’d already known the basics. It’s only extrapolating from stuff he was already aware of, to absurd, insane degrees. It might as well be the internet for how true any of this bullshit sounds.

Dipper keeps flipping through them, out of sheer repetitive motion. In this one, there’s a couple glossy pages in the center, easily opening to lie flat in his lap.

He blinks. He stares.

Dipper sits up with a sharp jolt. After a moment, he shakes his head, centering himself.

Right. It’s. The pinup photo. Magazines have those.

He quickly checks the cover - it’s from about two hundred years ago. He makes a face. Still pretty weird.

…..He didn’t know Bill ever did that kind of thing.

In the photo, Bill - true Bill - lounges on his side, top point in his palm. His hat is off - weird - and there’s an artful drape of silk over where his tie should be. Or is? It’s impossible to tell if it’s on or not under the cloth. Likely that’s the point.

Dipper snorts, tapping the picture of Bill’s eye, twice. Then remembers - shit - startles, and claps the magazine shut, looking up and around.

Thank hell, he’s still alone. Bill must not have been paying attention.

God, if Bill caught him with this, he’d instantly make a whole host of assumptions, and grin like a maniac. Even worse, his ego would balloon into impossible dimensions.

Dipper thinks for a moment. Tapping the magazine on his lap. Then he shrugs, and carefully tears out the glossy photo pages.

If he hides this in the right place, Bill might find it within the month.

Dipper crumples the rest of the magazine into a ball, glaring off into the distance, before dropping off the side of his chair.

At least one good thing came out of this quote-unquote research. He’s barely learned anything. Other than that demons can be as absurd as humans, and he already knew that.

But.

There has to be something here. These wouldn’t be the most popular works about demonic romance, among demons, if they didn’t have some grains of truth buried within. He just has to find them.

He’s already mastered parts of demonic seduction. Even started doing the regular kind, a little. He’s probably better at it than any other mortal around.

But that isn’t going to work with Bill this distracted.

Dipper clicks his pen, heaves a long-suffering sigh - and starts taking notes.

He might as well try some new ideas.

Three Easy-Fake Injuries To Tempt YOUR Lover!

With a swear, Dipper stumbles, and falls. He hits the ground a little harder than he’d like, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Shit.”

Bill’s attention snaps towards him instantly.

“What’s up?” Now he’s frowning, dropping his prey. “You trip or something?”

The demon Bill was berating shudders, sliding down to the floor in possibly boneless relief. They scuttle away over the black bricks on all twelve limbs.

“Mh,” Dipper grunts, shutting his eyes and hugging his leg himself. Keeping composed, and his face scrunched up. Holy shit, this actually worked - “Ow.”

"You gotta be the most unlucky human I've ever met." Bill stalks over, giving Dipper a derisive look. "Where'd you break this time?"

“Shut it.” Dipper says, annoyed. He couldn’t totally fake a fall, he’s not an actor. Bill would have seen through him immediately. Then admits, “It’s my ankle.”

Bill sighs, rubbing at his eye. His phone rings in his pocket, and he grumbles something inaudible. “Of all the-” He crouches down. “Alright, what’s the damage?”

“It’s fine,” Dipper says, honestly. Then Bill yanks his leg out of his grip, and okay, maybe this wasn’t the best approach.

DIpper winces, lying back on the floor. Bill rolls his eye, tugging his leg out further.

Adding some verisimilitude was the goal - but it ended up being a little too thorough. Bill glares at Dipper's ankle like it's insulted him, and Dipper finds himself doing the same. It's less painful than he's acting - but more than he wanted it to be. Which was any.

Though as long as he has Bill here…

As Bill examines him, Dipper shifts his other leg away. And maybe tilts back a little. When he scoots a little closer on the floor, it helps to ‘accidentally’ pull his shirt up a bit.

Bill hums for a long moment, eye narrowed as he toys with Dipper’s ankle, turning it this way and that. His eye flicks over Dipper, lighting up for a split second as it takes him in.

Then he sighs, and stands.

“Uh. Hey.” Dipper says. He clears his throat. Then smacks the floor next to him. “Bill, I’m really vulnerable here.”

“Eh, you’re fine. It’s not even a sprain!” Bill shrugs, apparently dismissing him. He turns and glares down the corridor, hands on his hips. “Where the hell did that caterer go?”

Dipper leans back, elbows on the floor and legs spread. Glaring as he watches Bill walk away without even another glance.

Okay, technically that worked. Temporarily.

But Bill’s too clever to be tricked by minor setbacks, and Dipper’s not willing to inflict something serious.

He’ll have to move on to something else.

Exotic Mortal Treats - GUARANTEED To Spice Things Up!

“So, uh.” Dipper winces at the crunching sounds. It’s louder than two granola bars combined. “How is it?”

“Mh.” Bill sucks some unidentifiable goo off his finger, pulling it out of his mouth with a pop. “Nice, sapling!” He grins, and winks. “You should bring me snacks more often.”

Dipper offers an awkward smile.

Bill shoves another scorpion in his mouth, and starts to crunch. His mood’s definitely picked up, at least. He starts picking some carapace from his teeth, leaning forward in concentration.

Beyond that, he doesn’t seem to react.

Dipper pulls a chair over. He scoots a little closer, watching Bill work with… whatever he’s working with. He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

Bill’s manipulating some magical array with stars and planets slowly rotating on a field. He makes a face at it, muttering under his breath.

“I’m feeling like some of these idiots should help out with the setup,” He says irritably, smacking the wheel of not-space and making it spin. A long line of celestial bodies Dipper can’t identify line up in a long string, and a beam of light shines through them to another point. “Who’s doing all the heavy lifting here, anyway?

Dipper shrugs. He gazes moodily into the empty terrarium.

So much for that advice. He might as well have bought a bag of chips. It’d have been way cheaper, and he’d actually be able to eat some.

Bill’s busy with his project, and Dipper’s taking a backseat to some demonic ongoings. Which is. Y’know. Fine. It’s part of their deal; they both get to do their own things.

Dipper taps his foot on the floor. Waiting.

But, no. There’s no reaction. Hell, now that he thinks of it - If this was going to have an effect, Bill knew what he was eating. He would have gotten the implication, first thing.

Eventually, Dipper sighs. He leans on Bill’s chair. “What kind of party is this?”

Bill looks up, one eyebrow raised. Somewhat surprised.

Dipper doesn’t budge. Nudging Bill, and staying firm. Which only makes Bill look more surprised.

Not without reason, either. Normally Dipper wouldn't want to know what Bill’s getting up to. They have kind of a live-and-let-live agreement regarding morality, each of them doing their own thing. Usually he prefers to not be in the loop.

This party has been interfering for way too long.

“Eh, it’s one of those cosmic convergence shindigs,” Bill says, and shrugs. He leans back in his chair, rubbing at his eye. “Not mine, technically. But it’s a big deal!”

Dipper glances over the map of celestial bodies, spinning again in the lit-up illusion.

Okay. Not a common occurrence. He’ll give it that. “...How often does this happen?”

“About once a millenia.” Bill stretches his arms behind his head, starting to smile again. One of his first loves - over-explaining. “I’ve hosted it the last twenty, thirty times? Something like that.” He buffs his nails on his shirt, looking proud. “Nobody’s got a better event plaza.”

So that’s it, then.

Dipper slumps back in his chair. He lets his arms drop to his sides.

Bill must get a text or something, because he checks his phone and starts frowning instantly. Starting to sulk a little as he fiddles with his map, and something else on a lit-up diagram. He makes a face, muttering under his breath about idiots, incompetents, and other idiosyncrasies.

…Setting up this party must be a headache and a half.

If it’s an event that only happens every thousand years, it’s got to be important. No wonder it’s taking up so much time.

On the upside, once this awful event is over with, it’s not going to come up again soon. Bill can’t get distracted by it - Hell, Dipper won’t even be around for the next one.

A thousand years is longer than Dipper can imagine. Ten times longer than he could ever live. A human’s life is pretty small, compared to most supernatural beings.

On the timespan Bill’s working with, it’s barely a footnote.

Demon events have gotten between them before. Dipper’s own plans have caused scheduling conflicts, too. Interruptions happen, life throws curveballs at them, and they both get busy -

But not for this long.

Dipper starts to say something - then hesitates. He’s not sure what to say.

Bill sticks his tongue out, his focus torn between something with that array of spinning stars, and texting someone back. He’s muttering to himself, frowning. A foot tapping the ground in irritation.

…As far as Bill’s concerned, Dipper might as well have faded into the background.

Dipper rests his chin in his hands. Waiting might be pointless, but. He’ll stick around for a bit. In case it works.

He wants Bill to throw him into a lake, or tell him he’s stupid, pick him up and insult him. Or at least care that he’s around when he’s sitting right there -

He drums his fingers on his knee, other leg jogging in place.

Bill doesn’t seem to notice.

Dating The Vain Type? How To Get ALL Their Attention on YOU

“This tie?” Bill holds one up in front of himself, facing the mirror. “Ooor this one?” He holds up another.

Dipper doesn’t say anything as he stalks into the bedroom, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Or this one!” Another tie pops up out of nowhere. “What’s a good look?”

Dipper shrugs. It doesn’t matter. Who cares, anyway.

“Speak up already, I need a second opinion!” Bill’s reflection in the standing mirror shows a slightly confused expression. “What’s with you?”

Dipper glares at his husband’s back, shrugging again. Bill makes a miffed sound, but so what?

All Bill cares about is this event he’s throwing. He’s complained about it for weeks now, he’s had plenty of time to prepare. One small human’s opinion isn’t going to matter.

And if Dipper has to hear one more word about this godawful party…

“It’s happening tonight, kid!” Bill jogs both tie options in his hands, prompting. “It might not be my favorite occasion - but that’s no excuse for not looking sharp!” He turns towards Dipper with a wink. “C’mon, what’s good?”

Dipper stalks over towards Bill, ignoring his questions and the weird look he’s being given. He knows he’s tense, that he’s stomping on the carpet, and that this is pretty stupid -

But it was in the article.

And he’s kind of wanted to do this before, anyway.

He meets Bill’s eye, flips him off - and shoves the stupid standing mirror over.

The entire thing, brass stand and all, goes toppling to the floor. The metal hits the ground hard, sending the mirror shattering into a million pieces - and Dipper jumps in place, startled.

Bill merely watches. A blank expression on his face, staring as his narcissistic toy gets moderately obliterated.

The brass stand clangs on the floor for a while, then settles down. There’s a brief silence.

Dipper takes a step back, awkwardly clearing his throat.

Shit, he thought that would be more durable. Most things in Bill’s place are impossible to break. Now there’s a billion tiny shards on the floor, glimmering up at him.

Though. The articles were technically correct. It did get Bill’s attention.

Dipper’s not sure what to say now.

Even Bill doesn’t have anything to say. He looks between the shattered mirror and Dipper, obviously surprised even seconds later.

“...I take it that’s a no on both of ‘em.” He says, eventually. The smile doesn’t make a return. He glances over, blinking rapidly. “What, did you wanna join the party?”

He’s still thinking about - how could he be -

Dipper clenches his fists.

Time after time after time, Dipper’s heard about the drinks selection for a party, or the guest list. Even the games Bill has planned. He can’t help but ramble in his enthusiasm, until Dipper either has to leave the room, or cover his ears against it.

There’s been none of that for this event.

It’s taken longer than every other one. It’s commanded too much of his time. Dipper hasn’t felt Bill watching him through either his regular gaze or his supernatural one, for weeks, and they only had one date this month.

Instead, Bill’s been doing setup - which he grumbles about - and worse, he’s had to organize. That always puts him in a bad mood. He’s bitched and complained, he’s made disgusted faces at his phone. He hasn’t rambled, or bounced in place. He hasn’t once looked happy about it.

Hell. It’s not even his in the first place.

“I don’t know why you’re spending so much time on this crap.” Dipper meets his husband’s eye. He throws his arms out, incredulous. “Bill, you don’t even like it.“

Bill, for once, doesn’t have a response.

He opens his mouth to say something - shuts it again. He blinks rapidly, expression changing as he tries to work something out - it turns into a grimace -

“I’m gonna go to take a bath.” Dipper says, shoulders rising - and stalks off.

Behind him, Bill remains silent. Thoughtful, and still.

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

Spending time at Bill’s place isn’t Dipper’s first preference. Spending time with Bill is the main reason to do so, because Dipper likes his time linear, his spaces Euclidean, and his company not cannibalistic. For every upside, there’s a definite down.

But if nothing else, the Fearamid has luxury in spades.

Dipper blows bubbles under the water of the bath. It staunchly refuses to stop being warm and comforting.

The stupid soap even smells nice; Bill must have changed out the options. Dipper knows Bill’s paid attention to some parts of what he wants, including the little things like ‘no more titan arum scented stuff’. He knows Bill’s made it slightly more human-safe, because none of the water comes out literally boiling anymore.

Dipper knows Bill knows these things. He knows a lot of things. Hell, he’s supposed to be ‘all-seeing’, so there’s no good reason some things still get overlooked -

He also knows he’s sulking.

Bill can’t read his mind. That’s been a fact from the start.

Without that advantage, Bill has to rely on all his other knowledge, and extrapolate. Most of the time he predicts him well enough that Dipper never gets a chance to speak up -

So it strangely sucks when he doesn’t.

Sulking’s good, though. Dipper manages some impressive bubble piles, sloshing around in the water.

He already knows what he should do. It’s the sensible thing. The human thing. It might even get Dipper what he wants, it just.

…Also kind of sucks.

If he stays any longer in the bath, his fingers are going to get all wrinkly. Or Bill will leave for the party, probably. He’ll miss his chance, and then, how will he bring up -

Wait.

There’s music, somewhat muffled through the wall between the bathroom and bedroom.

Dipper sits upright, shaking some bubbles off of his face with a frown.

Bill’s playing piano. Which is weird. He only does that when he’s relaxed, and lately he’s been anything but.

And if ever there was a sign, then he supposes this would be it. He tilts his head back, breathing in slowly.

There’s the music.

Time to face it.

Dipper gets out of the bath, sitting on the floor near the edge. Kicking idly in the water as the music continues. Something bright and jaunty. A tune of self-satisfaction, and a perkier mood. He spends more time than he should toweling off. Pacing, back and forth between the hundred baths on the floor and on the walls.

Eventually, he brushes his teeth, staring into a mirror that’s bigger than he is tall.

Dipper makes a face at his own reflection. Walking into the bedroom with that expression is going to let Bill catch on, fast.

….They should really be better at this.

It’s been years.

Whenever Dipper has to say something, it always comes out awkward. He doesn’t know how to do it right.

With Bill, he hasn’t had to come out and talk directly very often, which is something of a relief.

He guesses it’s not a surprise, really. They’re the worst combination for true sincerity - a socially awkward nerd, and emotionally stunted jackass. The fact that they get along at all is nothing short of miraculous.

They’ll just have to…Sort it out.

Dipper nods at his reflection. He takes a deep, calming breath, and lets it out.

The good news is he looks more certain than he feels, even as he heads towards the door.

Their bedroom is the same as always - once you allow for the fact that it changes on a whim, parts clicking in and out of place on sheer demonic will - and the carpet is soft on Dipper’s bare feet.

He drops the towel to the floor, and tries to finger comb his hair. It buys him time, while he thinks about how to start. He doesn’t want to turn towards Bill, feeling weird about their earlier interaction - but he glances over, just once.

Where Bill’s leaning from his perch on the piano bench, tilted at a dangerous angle.

Dipper looks away again, face feeling hot. He walks in a little further, and Bill tracks him, following his every move -

…How Bill keeps playing when nearly horizontal is a mystery.

On the plus side, Bill’s fine. Cheerful, for the first time in a while. And the mirror’s gone too, which is a relief. The tightness in Dipper’s chest loosens a bit.

Then he frowns, setting his hands on his hips.

Where the hell is the dresser with his clothes. Bill better not have vanished it again.

There’s a low whistle behind him.

“Shut up,” Despite himself, Dipper smiles. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“And I’ll see it five thousand times more!” Bill changes the song he’s playing. It’s lighter, and brighter. “At minimum.”

Likely he’s right about that. Dipper wishes he had something to toss at him, but he already dropped the towel. He rubs at one of his arms.

Being eyed up is. Not weird, but oddly comforting. Bill always ogles him like a creep. Always wanting a peek, or a look, or suggesting revealing clothing with a smile and wink, like the jerk he is. Partly because he is kind of a creep, but mostly because -

Because Bill thinks he’s hot.

Even if Dipper knows he’s watching, Bill’s not going to stop watching, even if it’s awkward. Part of him must like the awkward, he’s never failed to find Dipper compelling, even when most human people would say he’s a huge dork.

Bill literally has his eye on him, all the time. Always wanting to know what’s on his mind.

Dipper rubs a thumb over his left palm, and hears Bill make an annoyed sound. In his mind, he’s shouting at himself.

Why did he bother with ‘research’? He was overthinking, again. He always does this. Which, if he’s right, and Bill likes it - must be extremely compelling.

Behind him, Bill makes a curious noise. The bench makes a creak as he scoots over.

And Dipper shifts from foot to foot.

If he’s going to do this, then. Second-guessing himself is going to get them nowhere.

And all that demonic advice was terrible.

Obvious Come-on? More Like Obvious Turn-off - 10 Mistakes To Avoid!

For the second time tonight, Dipper does something he’s wanted to do before.

Damn it, he doesn’t know what a seductive slink should look like. They’ve done it a lot, Bill’s never complained - but Dipper’s never intentionally looked sexy.

In the end, he doesn’t bother. A walk is fine, if it gets him where he needs to be.

Bill doesn’t move from his seat on the bench. He straightens up as Dipper approaches, looking pleased. He tracks Dipper until it’s impossible - he can’t turn his head 180 degrees.

Once Dipper’s behind his target, he shuts his eyes. He’s got this. This will work - reassuring himself, while Bill keeps playing. Though his head is slightly tilted, listening. Expectant.

Bill isn’t expecting Dipper to drape himself over his shoulders. His shoulders rise as Dipper wraps his arms around them. There’s a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry about the mirror.” Dipper squeezes his idiot husband, tight. Likely Bill doesn’t care, but someone has to have morals in this relationship.

“I don’t care,” Bill says, very dry. Dipper can almost feel him roll his eye. Bill’s chest puffs out a bit as his posture changes, and there's a smirk in his voice. “Nice you’re still here, sapling.”

Dipper breathes in, and lets it out.

Slowly, he runs a hand over Bill’s chest. The shirt is thin enough that he can feel the warmth underneath, easily - and Bill’s not wearing his tie. By his standards, he’s already a quarter naked.

So. This isn’t that weird. Half of the work is done for him.

When Dipper starts unbuttoning Bill’s shirt, he misses several notes.

“Hello,” Bill says, a bit distant sounding - before realizing that response was semi-brainless; he shakes his head. Looking down at his slowly opening shirt. “What’s this about?”

“I’m getting your attention.” Dipper smacks him on the side. Now that the shirt is half opened, he slides a hand underneath the fabric. “Jerk.”

“Done,” Bill sits up straight, raising his hands like he’s held at gunpoint. Dipper slides a hand over the warm skin of his chest, feeling the heart pick up its pace. “Actually, you can have all of it!”

And when Dipper strokes a thumb over a nipple, Bill gives a full-body shudder, and a soft sound from the back of his throat.

Holy shit, it did work. It’s working perfectly - Dipper feels a surge of triumph.

Not only did this do the trick, it was easy. It was simple. It’s even fun to slide his palm over Bill’s chest, to toy with a nipple, listening to him grunt a little and start clasping Dipper’s arm.

Bill thinks he’s hot, after all. Bill wants him.

Why did he think he needed to make it complicated?

Dipper presses a few kisses onto Bill’s neck, feeling his chest still in a held breath - then moves onto the shell of Bill’s ear. He draws the earlobe into his mouth, biting gently.

“And come to think of it…” Bill’s tense, muscles drawn tight. Like he wants to surge up, while also not moving away. He raises one imperious finger, his voice is slightly rough. “I have been meaning to lavish my attentions on someone, recently.”

“Good plan.” Dipper hugs Bill tighter, then adds, “Since I wasn’t giving you a choice,” As he drags Bill backwards off the bench.

Bill nearly falls on his ass. Grabbing onto Dipper’s arms as he struggles to find balance, squirming in the grip, even the piano bench gets kicked over -

And all the while, he laughs like a maniac.

He’s too quick, though. After only one severe stumble, Bill’s back on his feet before Dipper can react.

Bill seizes Dipper in an instant, gripping his upper arms tight. His grin maniac, and his eye glowing bright. “Oh, sapling.” His voice is a low hum, teeth white and bared. “I'm gonna make you pay for that.”

“You can try.” Dipper says. He gets a grip on Bill’s lapels, hauling him in until they’re face to face.

God, finally. This is what he wanted, and it came so easily. Not only that, it’s way more fun than -

Bill’s phone starts ringing again.

Both of them glance down. Bill grimaces. He stops petting Dipper’s side to pull the offending item out of his pocket and glare at it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

And Dipper… lets his arms drop.

Another interruption, for an important event. Bill’s powerful, but even he can’t change time, not in any meaningful way.

Priorities mean that. Something else gets put on the sidelines.

“Screw ‘em.” Bill declares suddenly, and hurls his phone across the room.

Dipper looks up just in time to catch the motion, as the offending object cracks against the wall over the headboard, bouncing onto the bed.

“Total waste of my time.” Bill brushes his hands off, dismissive. “If they can’t pull the convergence off without me, they didn’t deserve it in the first place.”

“Oh thank god.” Dipper didn’t mean to say that out loud - but now Bill’s looking at him weird, so he adds. “You’re not going.”

“Decided not to half an hour ago,” Bill says, with a shrug. That’s why his mood has picked up - Dipper stands a little straighter. “They shoulda gotten the picture when things got started without me.”

It’s already started. Bill should be there, and he’s spent a lot of time on this thing - Dipper hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely! You see- Hm.” BIll starts, then hems and haws. He’s also, very unsubtly, backing Dipper towards the bed. He takes a few moments, face scrunched up, before admitting, “You had a decent point.”

Dipper blinks for a moment. Wow. Now that’s rare.

But he’s not too surprised to let it slide.

As Bill pushes, Dipper lets his feet dig into the carpet, and adds a palm on Bill’s chest. It draws them to a slow halt. “You’re serious.”

“As a broken femur.” Bill declares. He squeezes Dipper’s waist, while a smile creeps back onto his face. “I’ve hosted this shindig nearly two dozen times, and every millenia they make it more of a drag.” He sticks his tongue out - then chucks Dipper gently under the chin. “Quick life tip, kid - if it sucks, stop doing it!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dipper grabs onto Bill’s lapels again. There’s a smile threatening to emerge. Though, admittedly, he could be trying harder to hold it back.

“Good choice! It’ll keep ya from getting stuck in a routine.” Bill shudders dramatically, and starts backing Dipper up again. After a second he pauses - and presses a quick, wet kiss on Dipper’s forehead. “Your little reminder came in handy.”

Dipper reaches up from Bill’s lapel, and cups his cheek. Feeling his demonic grin widen under his palm - and feeling oddly touched.

Though he knows Bill can be fooled, it doesn’t make the rare moments when he is less surprising. Knowing that Dipper was right feels triumphant, and good. Knowing that Bill could have gotten stuck without a reminder.

It's also a reminder for Dipper. He is smart, and Bill likes that -

Dipper’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he jabs his husband in the chest. Very lightly, not more than a prod. "Not going to miss the party?"

“Hardly! That crap’s about as amusing as paperwork.” Now Bill’s grin is truly, monstrously wide. He tilts Dipper over the bed, gripping tight to his waist - and winks. “I’d have way more fun playing with a drowned rat.”

“Asshole,” Dipper says, and kisses him.

Bill returns it with enthusiasm. More than a bit of groping. A slow lean over, that Dipper lets happen until he’s nearly horizontal, only his grip on Bill’s shirt keeping him upright.

Part of him feels warm, and good. Another wants to push Bill on the bed, but mostly he’s amused, because Bill messed up.

He went and admitted something.

“You can’t take it back now, Bill.” Dipper sits down on the bed, escaping Bill’s grasp. Albeit temporarily. As Bill pouts over his temporary loss of prey, Dipper smiles, and jerks a thumb at himself, “You think I’m fun.”

“Eh, I’ve met worse.” Bill takes a hold of Dipper’s shoulders, slowly eyeing him up and down. “If I knew how fun you were gonna turn out in bed, I woulda kept you all to myself.” He kisses Dipper once, then moves onto his cheek, and his neck, leaning him further onto the bed. “Shoulda taken you back home and never let you leave.”

“So. Kidnapping, basically.” Dipper braces his elbows on the bed, letting Bill work over his neck, then his shoulder - then grimaces. “That… would have been a disaster.”

If Bill pulled that, Dipper would have been too alarmed to respond the way Bill wanted. Taken away from his home to a strange place. By a total stranger, with unknown motives. Not to mention how Bill back then was… not the worst about bedroom things, but he was still a major asshole. Between Bill’s brash confidence and Dipper’s paranoid anxiety, that entire thing would have been -

“See, this is why playing doctor didn't work out, Mr. ‘I need to see your medical license’.” Bill smacks Dipper’s hip twice. It pulls him back into the moment. Bill raises an eyebrow. “It’s a game, sapling. Don’t take it so seriously.”

Damn it, he has a point. Roleplay always falls apart once Dipper starts picking at it; it doesn’t kill the mood, exactly. But it rarely works as intended.

Dipper wants this to continue. He wants to have fun, he wants to have sex, and Bill’s ideas are usually good in that regard -

Screw it, it is just a game. No reason to make it too complicated.

In essence, it’s pretty standard ‘ravishing by a demon’, and they’ve done that before. This time it’s with a distinct twist, one he hasn’t considered - Dipper glances down at himself - and his traitorous dick is responding.

He wonders if he should have brought the collar. But technically speaking, if he was just kidnapped he wouldn’t have that yet. That’d be something Bill would give him later on, after -

Also, he might be overthinking again.

Maybe he should stop doing that.

“Alright, I’m into it.” Dipper admits. He spreads his arms wide with a shrug. “Have at me.”

“Great!” Bill beams, clapping his hands together. “Then let’s get our party started.”

And without warning, Bill hauls him up, lifts him bodily and chucks him onto the mattress. Dipper bounces in place, getting his bearings as Bill eases his way onto the bed. And over him.

“Glad to have you here, Pine Tree.” Bill leans in, bearing an ominous smile and too many levels of smug to unravel. He has more presence than he deserves. “You didn’t make that easy.”

“Why would I?” Dipper says, keeping his voice level. Slipping into the role is easy; and glaring is practically a habit. “You kidnapped me.”

“Chin up, sapling.” Bill says with a smile. Taking Dipper’s chin in hand, he tilts him up to meet his eye. “You’re really gonna like what’s in store.”

“Cipher,” Dipper hisses, gripping the sheets tight. He scrambles back on the bed, slow enough to let Bill follow at a crawl. “Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it.”

“Is that so?” Bill raises an eyebrow. Eying Dipper, up and down with a slowly growing smirk. “You’re a little underdressed for thwarting, kid.”

Dipper jerks back, indignant. “You stole my clothes.”

The accusation in his voice isn’t entirely feigned. The dresser was gone when he came back from his bath, damn it. He should have noticed. He tries to haul the sheets up around himself, but their mutual weight stops him.

“Surprise!” Bill says delightedly. He wiggles his fingers at Dipper, sitting up on his knees. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while.”

Dipper manages to turn his laugh into a grunt, close-lipped.

“What do you want from me?” He presses his back against the headboard. Retreating was useless - Bill only needs to lean in and he’s caged in by his arms.

“Hm. Decent brains, interesting body - way more into demons than you’d admit,” Bill says, nonchalant. One hand presses Dipper’s hip down firmly, holding him still. A thumb traces over his skin, a short distance away from his rising cock. “And packed chock full of lust.”

“That’s not an answer.” Dipper’s face is red now. He braces his arms against the wood behind him. “I’m not -” But that’s visibly a lie - “I mean. What does lust have to do with-”

“Oh, you and I are gonna do some things!” Bill’s thumb slides over the soft skin on the inside of his thigh. The other hand rises, and snaps its fingers. “Lots of things.”

Sudden, rapid thumping makes Dipper nearly jump off the bed, as a shower of ropes, sex toys, and other lewd accoutrement plummet out of nowhere.

A dildo poings off his thigh, and something rubbery bounces off the mattress and rolls off the side. There’s a scatter of ropes at the foot of the mattress, while leather manacles manifest on the headboard.

Dipper gives all of it a cursory look. Then another, more cynical one at his idiot husband.

“Pretty much all of these things.” Bill says, with no shame whatsoever. He grins down at Dipper like he’s about to unwrap a present. “Along with everything else I can think of!”

“Now I get it.” Now Dipper’s glaring in earnest. A few things would make sense, fine. This is just overkill. “You’re a pervert.”

“Takes one to know one!” Bill grabs Dipper’s shoulders and pulls, startlingly fast. Dipper’s head thumps softly against the pillow. His legs are spread around Bill now, and there’s a palm planted on the center of his collarbone. “Glad you could join me.”

Dipper grabs onto Bill’s wrist with both hands, squirming under the weight. He tugs, but not hard. “Why would I sleep with you?”

“To have the most fun of your life, duh.” Bill says magnanimously. He looms over him, pressure building on Dipper’s chest from his weight. Bill grins down at him, teeth bared in a vicious smile. “We’re gonna have a great time together.”

Dipper shuts his eyes.

With Bill over him like this, dangerous, half-feral, and smug - that sends a tremor through him, going right to his dick.

“See? I knew you’d like this, sapling.” Bill beams, and takes Dipper’s cock in his hand. Not firmly, just… touching. Hot enough to be tempting, loose enough to make Dipper want more of it.. “I’ve seen your dreams.”

“You-” Dipper can’t think of much to say. He lets go of Bill’s wrist, holds onto his arm instead. There’s a retort, somewhere. Except Bill knows how to touch him, and he’s stroking in earnest now, moving faster, holding tighter- “Damn it.”

“You’re real interested in demons. A downright obsession, some might say.” Bill’s voice is low in Dipper’s ear. He nips at it once, thumb spreading wetness over the head of Dipper’s dick. He rolls it around, listens to the groan - and chuckles. “Imagination doesn’t compare to the real thing, does it?”

God, Bill’s warm, and he’s talking, the bastard. That’s never good for Dipper’s stamina. Even worse, Bill slows down, staying firm enough to make him - Dipper pushes his hips up into Bill’s circling fingers- “Ah.”

“Feels good, I know!” Bill starts chuckling. He squeezes again, smacking Dipper’s thigh, just near his butt. “And there’s more where that came from.”

Dipper clamps his mouth shut. Adding a palm over it, for extra coverage. Another sound escapes, softer this time. He grits his teeth and turns his head, he can’t watch if he wants to last longer. “You’re - too much.”

“Oh, please. We’ve barely gotten started! You don’t know what you’re really in for.” Bill says with pleased fondness. He lets go suddenly - Dipper tries to chase his hand for a second, then balls his fists in the sheets. Bill’s sudden grin is feral, and smug. “Lemme give you another taste.”

Dipper props himself up on his elbows. watching Bill duck down. Starting to plant kisses down his stomach, tongue trailing over his skin. He’s-

Dipper swallows, he tenses his thighs. Bracing for the inevitable.“Oh god.”

If Bill’s hand is unfair, his mouth is worse. He doesn’t give Dipper a break, just sucks him in. Too hot, extremely wet, with tongue sliding up the underside of his dick that takes Dipper’s breath away.

“That’s-” The groan Dipper lets out is wholly his own. “Fuck you, that’s not.” He needs to take time to breathe, going tense. He slides fingers into Bill’s hair, feeling them shake on his scalp. “That’s not fair.”

Bill hums a laugh - the vibration makes Dipper’s mind go blissfully blank - then reaches up. Dipper already has a loose hold on his hair, but Bill tugs his hand closer.

“God.” The prompt is obvious. That's what Bill wants - and Dipper sits up. Bill’s tough, he can handle anything, including Dipper. He wants him to fuck his mouth, to pull his hair - a little pain, Bill loves that - and when he does, Bill lets out a moan that would be obscene in any context.

Dipper curls around Bill, gripping tight in his hair, pulling him down sharply and eyes rolling back as Bill just. Takes it. It’s heat and wet and good, it’s been too long, Bill’s firm tongue working clever designs on his dick as he rises back up -

And pulls away, the asshole. He watches Dipper whine, dick hard and red and needy - and merely laughs.

“How many times have you jerked off thinking about that?” Bill asks, grinning. Dipper feels heat rush to his face - “Been a while, huh?” Bill takes his cock in hand again, starting to stroke, slow and lazy and absolutely not helping the heat Dipper feels, in his chest and in his groin - “Don’t worry, kid! It’s gonna be way better with me helping out.”

Which is right, but only because Bill already knows which buttons to press. Where to touch. He never shuts up and he knows what ideas will make Dipper think too much.

Dipper shudders. He hasn’t been touched in a while, and this is helping in ways he didn’t realize. Bill shouldn’t leave him like this, and he really wouldn’t if given the chance, doing all kinds of things to him. Like this tight grip, this surge inside him, building to -

“Wait.” He fumbles, gripping tighter on Bill’s shirt, breathing faster now. Feeling himself twitch, the heat rising in his groin, quicker than he wanted. “Wait. I’m-”

“You don’t even have words for the ways I’m gonna make you come,” Bill’s voice is a low purr in his ear, tight pressure on his dick, Bill never stops talking, it does horrible things to Dipper’s imagination - “Not stopping ‘till you’re a completely fucked out wreck.”

He would, he will - he’d make Dipper take his fingers and his cock, he’d touch him everywhere, until he -

Swears. Dipper arches up, gasping, coming in Bill’s hand, grabbing at his shirt, at his shoulders. Bill grins wide, palm cupped over his cock, catching his release.

He’s still chuckling to himself as Dipper drops back against the mattress. Blinking, slowly, at the ceiling.

Okay.

Not… the longest Dipper’s lasted. But it has been a while.

Bill hums a low, pleased tune, kissing Dipper on the temple, then the cheek. He leans back a bit - then cocks his head to the side as he looks at his palm.

“Seriously, though - you were really pent up.” Bill raises an eyebrow, breaking character for a moment. He examines the results with amusement, then takes a quick lick before wiping his hand on the sheets. “You shoulda said something.”

Dipper sighs. This jackass. “I was trying to.”

A light clicks on in Bill’s head. He sits up, suddenly alert. Eye darting around, thoughts racing - and he looks back down at Dipper.

Dipper doesn’t meet that golden gaze. He clears his throat, covering his eyes with his arm. Suddenly he’s embarrassed.

Bill’s not stupid. He noticed Dipper’s attempts; he could hardly miss the obvious. None of them were normal to begin with. They probably weren’t that common for demons, come to think of it - and zero of them are things Dipper would come up with on his own.

“Pretty strange approach you took there,” says Bill, patting Dipper’s thigh. He tilts his head to the side curiously, and his eye narrows. “What put those ideas in your head?” There’s a very tiny, miniscule amount of tension in the question. Dipper thunks his head against the pillow, rolling his eyes.

Bill’s probing at something most people wouldn’t consider. But spend enough time in a demon realm, and well - Bill’s not entirely wrong to worry that Dipper might have been messed with. It’s just…

Dipper sighs. He knows what the reaction will be. But. He should say it now, too, before Bill gets the wrong idea.

“Um,” He says. Tapping two fingers together, and offering an awkward smile. “Demon Cosmopolitan.”

Bill blinks for a moment.

"Shut it." Dipper says. Already pre-annoyed.

“Mh.” Bill’s lips are pressed tightly together. “Mhm.” Amusement scrunching up his face, clearly holding back. He lets out a loud ‘pfffft’, shoulders rising.

“Demon dating advice sucks,” Dipper insists.

Bill’s amusement is irrepressible. Even though he nearly chokes holding it back, it breaks through - and he starts laughing outright.

Dipper swats at him, not very hard. He has to admit it wasn’t his greatest move.

“I can see it already!” Bill rolls off him, raising his arms in the air. “You doing your ‘research’!” He sterns his expression, a mimicry of Dipper’s - though his thinking face isn’t that dumb looking - and clicks an invisible pen. Nodding to himself, very seriously. “Gotta take notes on this copy of Playbaal.”

“It’s not that funny,” Dipper mutters. Not that it stops Bill. He straddles this jerk instead, and thumps him on the chest.

Another note to make - burn the notebook before Bill finds it.

Bill’s always too pleased with himself, including his own jokes. His dumb, shitty quote-unquote 'impression' has amused him to the point where he’s lying back, arms over his chest. Cackling at his own cleverness.

Accurate or not - which it wasn’t - it’s still really goddamn stupid.

Dipper rolls his eyes, feeling Bill’s stomach bounce with laughter under the palm of his hand. No point in protesting. Let him have his fun.

Still annoying though.

Bill himself looks pretty stupid, anyway. Splayed out on the mattress like that. His shirt half-undone, his hair slightly mussed. An obvious tent in his pants.

…Clearly distracted.

Dipper looks around at the toys strewn on the mattress. At the headboard, and Bill’s arms.

Now a thought’s brewing, in his own head. A tempting one.

Not that long ago, Bill started proposing new ideas. Dipper hasn’t had too many himself, he’s less experienced in this area. And while Bill makes bedroom stuff easy, as much as he can, Dipper’s still… awkward in general.

Even so - Inexperienced or not - He'd be an idiot to miss this opportunity.

Dipper crawls over his idiot husband, sitting down on his stomach with aplomb. Bill perks up, even as a bit of breath huffs out from the impact. He also raises his arms to get them out of Dipper’s way, which is perfect.

Dipper lets his fingers trail up one of them, lifting it by the wrist -

Where some experience comes in handy.

If he hadn’t been on the other side of this before, he wouldn’t know how to do it so quickly.

“Hello there,” Bill says, grinning wider now. He glances down at Dipper’s hips, so close to his face now. “Nice to see ya.”

“Uh huh.” Dipper’s trying for subtlety, he doesn’t have a witty retort. He’s busy sliding fingers up Bill’s other bicep.

Said subtlety instantly fails, as Bill tries to grab his butt, only to be held up with a jolt. His eye goes wide, he snarls and yanks again, torso jerking upwards with his sudden surge. He nearly rises off the mattress, even with Dipper sitting on top of him.

Dipper tightens his legs, keeping himself steady. Blinking in surprise.

Bill nearly bucked him completely off, which is. Not… really the reaction he expected. The second arm is free, and it’s gripping Dipper’s thigh, tight -

While Bill’s dominant hand is neatly tucked into the leather manacle.

After a second, Bill tilts his head back. Tugs his arm a few times, almost testingly - then looks up at Dipper with surprise.

“What?” Dipper asks. They’ve done… stuff before. He didn’t expect that much of a reaction.

“Huh.” Bill says, calmer now. Then, frowning slightly. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Huh.” Bill says again, with the usual amount of helpfulness. Looking less annoyed, and more contemplative. He purses his lips, tapping the manacle thoughtfully. “Gotta say that’s a first.”

Oh.

All of the awkwardness Dipper was repressing surges back to the forefront.

Okay, that’s. He didn’t - well maybe he did think - was he thinking at all, holy shit -

“Um.” Dipper hesitates. What does he do now, besides lean over to touch Bill’s forearm. “Is this-”

Somewhere in the sheets, Bill’s phone starts ringing again.

Bill lets out a disgusted groan, thunking his head against the pillow. Dipper starts scowling.

Bill twists one way, then another, looking for the source, while Dipper feels around for the damn thing without giving up his seat, fumbling in the silk. He finds it half-under Bill’s back, just next to his knee.

Dipper fishes the phone up, and glares at it. Ringing, incessantly, with the same stupid ringtone. Likely it’s important. Something going wrong, or going right. Another demonic thing that’s demanding Bill’s attention.

They don’t know they have competition.

Dipper picks up the call, tucking the phone against his ear. He feels Bill take in a sharp breath under him.

“Fuck off.” Dipper says in clipped tones, before the being on the other end can say anything. He glares down at Bill, squeezing his chest between his legs. Almost daring him to interject. “He’s busy.”

There’s a sound on the other end of the call - but Dipper’s already hung up, and thrown the stupid phone right to the floor.

Underneath him, Bill’s eye goes wide, blinking fast. It also starts glowing bright gold.

Dipper runs a hand through his hair, and tries not to feel awkward about that.

He isn’t really… Being forceful isn’t how he usually goes about things. But they’ve had enough interruptions from that godawful party already, and this one felt all too personal.

Bill shifts suddenly in place. Enough that Dipper has to steady himself, jolting back to the present.

Shit. Right, he’s got to get back to Bill. Who’s -

No longer thinking, apparently. He’s come to a decision with his usual speed. Bill’s propped his other wrist against the empty manacle. Hell, he’s halfway slid it into the thing, waiting for the clasp to be shut.

He’s also wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Dipper snorts in amusement, and says, “Okay.”

He leans forward again. There’s an odd flutter inside as he sets Bill’s other wrist in the manacle. As he sets the clasp, and tightens it. Fiddling with the leather is a decent excuse not to see the results, just yet.

Bill gives it an experimental tug, face changing as he thinks - then shrugs, and relaxes back on the bed. Humming a little tune to himself.

Dipper sits back. He swallows, though his mouth feels dry.

Right.

There’s Bill, underneath him. That body, warm muscle shifting against his thighs as Bill gets comfortable. A heartbeat, if Dipper presses a palm against his chest. His arms flex in the restraints, muscles tensing and shifting around before they relax again.

He’s… Not, exactly, at Dipper’s mercy, because Bill’s too strong, he could break out - hell, he made those restraints, they don’t have to exist, he could escape at any time - But.

Dipper licks his lips. Normally he’s good with ideas. It’s not working right now.

Bill. Held back for once. Powerful, impossible, insane - and lying there on the bed, grinning at Dipper. Waiting for him. That hat half-opened shirt exposing his chest, like an invitation to explore.

When Bill Cipher is.. is trapped like this, Dipper’s free to touch him wherever he wants. Or - or not touch him, if he wants, or only at the right moments, teasing until he’s the one shaking with sensation for once. Dipper could do pretty much anything, and Bill’s looking up at him, head slightly tilted to the side, like he expects him to-

“Um.” Dipper sits in place, blinking, at a loss. It’s like his brain has short-circuited, repeating the same thoughts in a circle.

After a second, Bill shrugs. “Well, well, well. Guess my new pet has a couple of tricks up his sleeve.” He lies back on the bed, nonchalant. He tilts his head back to examine his nails, since his hands are raised over his head. “What do you think this little stunt is going to accomplish?”

Dipper narrows his eyes.

If that’s the game, then…

“Who’s captured who now, Cipher?” He jabs a thumb at himself, starting to smile again. He shifts back, settling down on Bill’s thighs. “Guess I was smarter than you thought.”

“If you were real smart you’d be running.” His sneer belies the tent in his pants, hips shifting up as Dipper moves closer. “You know what happens to mortals who try to bind demons?”

Dangerous, always. Deadly, usually. If there’s even one fault in the binding. Even the slightest mistake - and the demon bursts free, able to wreak whatever havoc they like - usually on the hapless mortal who tried to keep them bound.

In this case, Dipper’s feeling very reckless.

“I’m not running away from all the secrets of the universe,” Dipper says. He feels oddly light inside, excitement building as he starts to undo the rest of Bill’s shirt. Fumbling, slightly, his fingers are uncoordinated. “You’re gonna tell me everything.”

“Ha! You’ve got no leverage, kid. Nothing to offer, no way to convince - and you don’t seem like the torturing type to me.” Bill eyes his progress, mouth quirked up with amusement. “Watch the fabric, that’s expensive.”

“Oh, I can make you talk..” Dipper rips the rest of his shirt open. The last couple buttons bounce off into the room, and Dipper slides his hands up that chest, down again to Bill’s stomach. It’s all smooth skin, hot to the touch - “The hard part is getting you to shut up.”

Bill lets out a sharp laugh. Being an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not self-aware. Dipper forces a smile off his own face.

When Dipper undoes Bill’s belt, he chuckles. When Dipper tugs the pants down, underwear and all, he lifts his hips to let them slide off. Bill even kicks the fabric off his legs, too, which is helpful; Dipper didn’t want to fiddle with that part.

It leaves Bill naked, except for the still-opened shirt. Fully hard, cock resting on his stomach; still grinning, and still impenetrably smug.

Dipper narrows his eyes, trying to keep his face stern. Squeezing Bill’s thigh, and feeling the muscle jump under his palm.

“I get it.” He says, shifting lower. His hands stroke the inside of Bill’s thighs, up his hips. “The great Bill Cipher thinks he can resist anything.”

“Sure can!” Bill grins, head rising to track Dipper’s descent. He shifts his legs apart, making it easy to kneel between them. “I can’t imagine you’ve got anything in stor-”

Dipper ignores him. He keeps his eyes on Bill, tongue flickering out. A quick, wet thing, licking against his length..

“Nh.” Bill grunts. Eye fluttering shut, he swallows visibly. "Taking a new tactic, huh.” The smirk returns, sharper now. “That's hardly fair!"

“All's fair in lust and war.” Dipper recites the old demonic phrase. He pulls Bill’s cock upright, watching him suck in a breath - and smiles. “You're going to do what I want."

“You can try,” Bill purrs. His teeth are bared in his wide, pleased smile. “Do your worst.”

Taking Bill in his mouth is a guilty pleasure. Not that he should feel guilty, as Bill’s often repeated, with great enthusiasm - but Dipper groans as he takes Bill in, hand gripping the base of his cock.

It’s hot and hard, twitching again as Dipper idly rolls his tongue around. He opens up, mouth drawing in the thick length of him, cheeks hollowing out. Bill lasts a whole ten seconds before his hips rock up into it; a couple quick jerks. Soon he’s trying to fuck into his mouth, bracing a foot on the mattress, knee raised.

Dipper pulls back and plants a kiss on the head. Underneath him, Bill swears and his hips hit the mattress with a thump. He’s slightly pink in the face, arms tense and eye shut.

Teasing. Taunting. Downright tormenting - now he sees what Bill sees in this.

The appeal.

He licks his lips as he draws back, to see Bill’s cock jump in place, a muscle in his thigh twitch rapidly - then taking it back in, groaning around Bill’s cock as his hips make short, desperate motions..

Bill wants to fuck his mouth, he needs to feel more - he can take it, he’s immortal, but Dipper can too, he’s good at this - undulating his tongue on the underside as Bill hits the back of his throat, and hearing a loud, breathless swear.

Bill might be all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-too-put together in most situations.

He’s not now.

Instead, he’s swearing, low. Repeating and the same word, over and over again. His face is flushed and his chest heaves, rising and falling with heavy breaths. He’s starting to sweat a little, turning his head to the side, trying so hard not to admit he loves this.

There’s pleasure in seeing Bill come so undone by this. Pleasure in knowing that he’s doing this, and fuck, it is good to suck his cock, Dipper’s already getting hard again himself.

“You-” There’s a clang on the headboard as Bill tries to reach out, and gets held up. He swears again, under his breath. “Gnh.”

Dipper draws away. But he takes it slow, drawing it out far longer than Bill did. Bobbing back down briefly, and feeling Bill try to stay in until Dipper finally lets his cock fall from between his lips, dropping wet and throbbing onto Bill’s stomach.

“Is it good?” He asks. He strokes Bill’s length a couple times, watching Bill shudder. Bill lets his head drop back on the pillow, grunting something incoherent. One of his legs is shaking in place, not quite kicking out.

“You can come in my mouth, if you want.” Dipper says, hearing Bill make a soft groan, nearly needy - but wait, right, the roleplay - “Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Bill bares his teeth. Breathing slower now, like he’s controlling it. His eye darts around under the closed lid, jaw tense.

Dipper licks up the underside of his dick, kissing just under the head. Bill’s cock twitches again, and he keeps up his assault with no small amount of pride.

There’s no way Bill can resist much longer. He’s already so close.

Bill breathes in, and lets it out, shuddering and slow. He pauses for a long moment. Then, slowly, he looks up from his pillow.

“You…” Bill starts. His tongue flicks out over his lips, and he flashes his most charming smile. “Are so goddamn good at this.”

Dipper feels a burst of embarrassed pleasure. He ducks his head a little, trying not to smile. “Um.”

There... There’s usually a retort Dipper can offer. But that wasn’t an insult. So. “Um.” He repeats, like an idiot.

Underneath him, Bill’s smile slowly, smugly widens into a full-blown grin.

“So, yeah,” Bill makes a dismissive gesture with his bound hands. “Go ahead, take your time! I could watch you sucking me off all day.” He settles down on the sheets. Acting perfectly relaxed - though his cock tells a different story. “You’re giving me enough jerk off material for eons.”

“Bastard.” Dipper’s really trying not to smile, and he knows his face is red. Even his ears feel hot by now. “You’re-”

He stops. The protest dies before it fully forms.

Because Dipper knows Bill. All his tells. When Bill’s bending the truth, or when saying something he doesn’t believe. When he’s straight-up lying it’s obvious, and Dipper could pinpoint a misleading phrase from a mile.

This time, Bill’s not lying. It’s true.

All of it.

“Oh.” Dipper doesn’t have a followup. The burn of embarrassment flares in him; he must be blushing down to his chest at this point. Bill really -

He looks down - Bill’s dick, almost straining in his hand - but looking at his face isn’t better, Dipper tucks his cheek against one rising shoulder, face feeling hot on his own skin.

“I’ve been watching you, sapling. All the time.” Bill’s smug grin remains; he’s almost too pleased with himself, even though he’s still telling the truth - . “You have no idea how good you look. How hard you make me.” His eye trails over Dipper, and his cock twitches against his stomach. “Every time I come, I think about how much better it would be if I had you in my bed.”

God, and he does, too. Bill’s not playing a role - or at least, not making this up. They’ve done so much together and Bill’s loved it, every moment, enough to make a mental video of them - and there’s proof of Bill’s lust, wet from Dipper’s mouth and hard in his hand.

Dipper doesn’t know what to say. He has Bill in one hand, himself in the other, moving a little faster now, and it’s hard to focus. He shuts his eyes, trying not to pant.

”You’ve got a great mouth on you, kid. But it looks absolutely perfect around my cock.” Bill pulls on the restraints, lifting himself up to meet Dipper’s eyes - he lowers his head, avoiding it - “You’ve got a talent.” Bill strains to follow his gaze, headboard creaking at the pressure. His cock jumps in Dipper’s grip, grinning sharply. “Put it to use? And I’ll give you everything you want.”

Dipper had already ducked back down. It’s right there - and hell, sucking Bill’s dick is less embarrassing than listening to what he was saying. Dipper tastes him, opens for him. Feeling good, with the thick weight in his mouth, on his tongue. He holds the rest of his length with his other hand, face burning.

“That’s it.” Bill’s breathing hard, voice low. He tilts his head up, watching with his eye half-lidded = and a growing smirk. “Good boy.”

Dipper makes a noise that’s nearly a choke, a soft, gagged whimper. Good at this, he’s good - he moans. Bill tastes of skin and salt, a heavy warm weight that feels good to suck. He pulls back to the head, cheeks hollowing and tongue flickering, before swallowing him down again.

“You- Nh.” Bill curses, tossing his head to one side. One of his legs starts jogging in place, his teeth clenched. “Gonna-”

Dipper doesn’t stop, he strokes and groans in encouragement. Feeling Bill twitch as he comes, swallowing slowly. Bill chants something low under his breath before it all melds into a low moan. Even when he’s finished, Dipper keeps going, just to watch Bill shudder under him like he’s being pleasantly electrocuted, eye rolling back in his skull.

When Dipper finally sits up, Bill’s downright dazed. Splayed out, blinking unfocused. Dipper wipes his mouth, and pats his thigh. A warm glow of pride overcomes the warmth in his cheeks.

So what if he’s got an infinite, powerful demon. Or if he’s a nerd. When it comes to this, even Bill Cipher isn’t his match.

“Ten outta ten.” Bill says, after a moment. He spent a good ten seconds blinking at the ceiling, eye unfocused. One of his hands gives a lazy thumbs up, then droops in its manacle. “A million stars. Would come back again, for eternity.” A quick smirk. “Give the server a massive tip.”

Dipper slaps his hip, just to make a point about puns. Then pauses. He’s uncomfortably hard himself, and now that he’s not distracted - Bill’s dick is flagging, but there's more than a few toys scattered over the mattress, there’s lube. Everything he could use to help himself out. He leans over -

“No toys,” Bill snaps, and Dipper jerks to attention. He hesitates. Already his hand hovers over the lube, just next to something that’s smaller than Bill, but -

“Aw, you’re lonely, aren’tcha?” Bill interrupts again. Starting to shake his head in mock pity. “I know what you need - and I’m better than any of those.” He glances down at own groin, a cocky grin on his face. “I could make you come without you ever touching yourself.”

God, Bill’s being oddly truthful today, and again, he’s right. He has managed that before, Dipper can feel his dick jump at the very idea of it. It’s... Intense, and rough. Feeling that demanding demon over him, around him, deep inside of him - and actually, coming on Bill’s cock sounds extremely fantastic right now.

Dipper fumbles the lube for a second, he reaches to stroke Bill into hardness again, get him ready-

“Ah ah ah,” chides Bill. He rolls his hips to the side, dodging Dipper’s touch. “Where’s the romance?” He flutters his eyelashes, his face in a mocking pout. “You can’t even gimme a kiss first?”

Dipper nearly snorts. They’re in the middle of - Bill’s an all powerful demon. He knows so much. He controls an entire nightmare realm, and so many beings think he’s ‘cool’. Unassailable. Unflappable.

Bill Cipher is all of those things - and he says he married a nerd. Which is, okay. A fair statement.

But It takes one to know one.

“Fine.” Dipper moves up closer, cupping Bill’s cheek. He’s trying not to smile, and failing. “Just one, though.”

Less than two seconds later, he proves himself a liar. Kissing Bill never stops with just a peck. They spend longer than they should, tangled together. Dipper lying halfway on him, Bill rising against his restraints to meet him, and his tongue flickering into Dipper’s mouth

Dipper finally gets a hand on him, where Bill’s already halfway to attention. Spreading lube over him in slow firm strokes, feeling him harden quickly, hot under his palm. Bill’s thick length slides easily under his touch, he can feel a vague pulse through it.

Dipper ducks his head next to Bill’s reaching behind himself. He just - needs to prepare a little, and then- he bites his lip, slipping fingers inside.

Reaching behind himself never gives him the right angle, but. Dipper tucks his chin against his chest as he works himself slowly, twisting his fingers. He hasn’t done this in a while. It’s hard to relax. He breathes slowly, controlled - maybe he needs to spread his legs more -

Which is when Bill surges up underneath him, body arching up like a bow. “You- Don’t be a tease, kid.” The words come out in a low growl, too eager to be anything but honest. “At least turn around and let me watch.”

Dipper stops out of sheer surprise. He pauses, looking up into a wolfish grin.

“C’mere. Sapling. You want some help? Let me give you a hand.” Bill licks his lips. He’s trying to nudge him with a hip, his cock hard again, and his eye alight. “I wanna touch you.”

Right, that would be better. Ten times better than Dipper doing it himself. Bill’s long fingers, pushing inside him - he swears under his breath, scooting upward, and it’s only as the tips of his fingers touch the manacle that he thinks enough to pause.

Dipper looks down at Bill. Bill blinks up at him, eye full of desire -

After a moment, Dipper glares.

The corner of Bill’s mouth quirks up, a bit wryly. “Go on, do it.” He wiggles his fingers in the restraints. Almost teasingly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Dipper gives him a long, long look, before rolling his eyes.

“Fine.” He repeats, smiling this time. “You jerk.” He undoes one of the restraints.

The clasp opens, the leather parts. Bill stretches his arm out, raising it up front of himself with a pleased grin. Dipper moves onto the next manacle, bracing himself on Bill’s chest for balance -

Bill yanks his other arm, hard. The chain on the headboard snaps with a sharp, metallic clink, and there’s not even time to flinch as Bill lunges up from the bed.

Dipper gasps, half a second after the fact. Much too late, at that. Already there’s a strong arm around his waist, a firm grip in his hair. Dipper didn’t think about how fast Bill can be before he was already caught.

“You really thought you could bind me, of all demons.” Bill shakes his head with slow amusement. He pulls Dipper’s head back and to one side, exposing his neck. “And they call me arrogant”

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Bill continues, beaming. Starting to nose against that exposed skin, pressing his lips against Dipper’s rapid pulse. Dipper grits his teeth, letting out a soft grunt. He scrambles for purchase on Bill’s shoulders. “It’s adorable.”

“I-” Dipper cuts himself off. Bill’s just licked his neck. Then his ear, teeth grazing against the lobe - now he’s kissing just behind it. “That’s-!” Then. Teeth, on his neck, a mouth on his skin - DIpper swears, and clasps a hand on Bill’s neck in return - “Not fair.”

Bill laughs against Dipper’s shoulder. “All’s fair in lust and war!” He starts trailing kisses up the shoulder, to his neck. “Get used to it.” His mouth sucks in the soft skin tongue flicking over it and absolutely leaving a hickey. Marking him up.

There’s a strong, searching hand between Dipper’s legs, sliding up the back of his thigh. But even when he does struggle, he can’t pull away. Bill’s all over him, surrounding him. Making him his. He’s been captured, there’s no escaping his attention -

Dipper shuts his eyes. He shuffles his knees further apart.

“You could have run, but no! That’s not what you wanted.” Bill slides slick fingers inside him, deeper than Dipper could reach - right there. They spread him open, then press together, then flex - pleasure bursts inside him, god it’s been too long - “You wanted this.”

Dipper shakes his head, but that’s pointless. And obviously a lie; Bill grins as he continues. “You wanted to get fucked. But you’re a skeptic, I get it.” The way he splays his fingers makes Dipper ache, in a good way, he digs his nails into Bill’s back - “You just needed a trial run, first!”

Part of Dipper wants to say that it’s a logical move. That if you’re going to be someone’s… If it’s going to be a sex thing, you should find out if -

Then overthinking takes a backseat, Dipper’s mouth shutting with a click as Bill keeps pressing. Because Bill, the bastard, has clever hands, and a cleverer mind for angles, and his fingers are pushing in so deep. He barely hears Bill asking, “How’dya like it so far?”

“‘S good. Yeah.” The words fall senseless from Dipper’s lips. Very good. He was right, perfectly so, he made absolutely the right choice. When Bill curls his fingers there’s a bright spark, and Dipper pushes into that point of pleasure, grabbing at the back of Bill’s neck, at his shoulders, fumbling in sudden desperation. “More. Please.”

“In a minute.” Bill’s hand never stops, fingers sliding in and out. Avoiding the hitting quite right, now, the bastard - Dipper can feel his breathing pick up, hot on his shoulder. The leather of the manacle is still around Bill’s wrist, cool on Dipper’s skin. “You’re so tight.”

Dipper tugs at him, trying to draw him in. It doesn’t work, even if he really pulls - until Bill finally caves, sliding his fingers out. “And demanding.” He eases Dipper back then, pushing him down on the bed. “I picked exactly the right mortal.”

Dipper tries to get comfortable on the sheets - but Bill hauls him in by his hips. He’s kneeling, which leaves Dipper’s legs splayed over his own. Bill’s cock bobs obscenely over Dipper’s, a rude comparison. “You sure you want this?”

Dipper flips him off. This jerk. Like he can’t see how much he wants it, it’s right there. He’s been hard for a while, extremely so, even now his dick taps on his stomach with urgency, jerking at the very thought of Bill inside him. Bill’s just being a tease.

He nods, anyway, just to move things along.

“Alright, kid. You got this.” Bill shifts up slightly, a smile in his voice. He holds onto Dipper’s hip, starting to guide the thick tip of his cock inside. “You can-” The blunt head of it slips inside, Dipper can see Bill pushing in and feel it, hot pressure entering. “Take all of it.”

Which Dipper’s done before. He’s ready for it. It’s thick and hot as always, but with this angle it’s - Dipper feels his toes curl, he tosses his head back with a whine - Just right. “Yeah.”

“That’s a good boy,” Bill purrs, thrusting shallow, a quick in-and-out, easing himself deeper, a long stroke following - “All mine. My perfect little pet. ” Each word emphasized with another thrust, another push deeper, more firm pressure inside that leaves Dipper breathless. The last bit of chain from the manacle is chill against his hip. “My personal plaything.”

Dipper shoves a hand over his face, whining a protest. He’s - he’s not a - that. But he is, a little. He wants Bill to ‘play’ with him, a lot. He’s wanted it for a while, and now he has it, Bill’s totally inside him, hot and thick. Taking his time, not really fucking him like he could, and Dipper wants more so much he could almost - “Ah.”

“Now that. Is a fantastic look for you.” Bill’s voice is nearly a growl, his grin truly feral. He tugs Dipper closer, shifting up on his knees as he sets a quicker pace. “I could look at that face all day. Or night, as it were.” He draws back slightly, running his thumb around where they’re joined, eye glowing bright. “Or just at you stretched out around me.”

Dipper nods again, helplessly. He can feel it, like it’s bigger than usual, but whether it’s the angle or the time he’s spent alone, he can’t tell. There’s a hot burst of pleasure each time Bill fucks into him; he’s sweating and the sheets getting damp under his back, and in his hands. Holding on tight, and trying to hook his legs around Bill.

“Gonna have you over and over again.” Bill mutters. He's urgently pulling Dipper closer, leaning forward as he rises up slightly. “And you’ll love it.” In this position his cock sends stars swimming into Dipper’s vision, it's so much. His legs are tense, and they’re starting to shake. “Every time I fuck you. Every time I come inside you.”

Damn it, Bill keeps talking; he never stops when he should - All things Dipper can picture in his mind, clear as if it were a dream. He wouldn't have to get Bill’s attention, Bill would be all over him, Dipper would be naked and ashamed and attended to. Whenever he wanted, Bill would be touching him. Kissing his neck, and his chest, shoving him down and fucking him like this, leaving Dipper shaking and waiting until he did it again, getting fucked and touched and adored -

“Use you whenever I want.” Bill rises up to his knees, holding Dipper fully by his hips with unnaturally strong hands, fucking into him rough and urgent. “Let you wait for me, naked in my bed, with all that cum inside you. Touching yourself. “ Bill leans in, teeth bared, breathing hard. He squeezes tight enough to bruise - “Until I bend you over and fill you up again.”

The steady pound of Bill’s cock is building up pleasure too quickly; Dipper can feel it deep in him, ready to make good on his words; every time Bill fucks into him a bead of clear precome drips from his cock, Dipper’s so close he aches - “‘M gonna come.” Dipper blurts, holding onto the sheets, tight. Back arches, nearly whimpering- “Gonna come, please.”

“Sexy little mind. Cute goddamned body. Too eager.” Bill hisses the words out, keeping a steady, near-violent pace, his skin shining with sweat. “Too cute.” He yanks Dipper in tight, arms shaking slightly, and Dipper can feel his cock twitch inside, the added pressure makes him groan - “Everything I wanted.” Bill pants, teeth bared as his eye flutters shut, pressing their hips together. “Fuck, I love you.”

Dipper comes with a sharp, sweet shock, gripping at the sheets, mouthing at the air. Bill holds him close, hips jerking in place, balls deep, pulsing inside him.

Bill squeezes him a little tighter, dropping back onto his seated position. Dipper collapses, boneless from his orgasm - and relieved at the lack of strain on his back. He can feel Bill pulsing inside, hips still jerking faintly in the last few motions.

Dipper lets his head drop back. Trying to catch his breath. Bill stills in place, breathing slower. Eye shut. Until he eventually sighs. He pulls back and away, only to drop on top of Dipper, cheek resting on his chest.

After a moment, Dipper reaches up to card his fingers through Bill’s hair.

Sleeping with Bill is always… interesting. In one way or another Over time he’s been introduced to things he thought were only on the internet, not something people actually did. Hearing Bill say something vaguely normal is strange.

And nice.

They lie there for a bit. Spending time in a calm post-sex daze, comfortable and dozy. Bill raises his arm, and Dipper obligingly unlatches the broken manacle, letting it drop.

With a sigh, Bill turns his head. Finally, totally relaxed, humming in contentment against Dipper’s chest. Dipper keeps petting him idly. Still thinking. Maybe too much, but he’s never going to not.

Even if it was said during sex… there should be a response. Right? If anything, it’s one of the few times he doesn’t have to feel awkward saying it out loud.

“Love you too.” Dipper leans up, planting a quick kiss on Bill’s head, before dropping back. He hugs his idiot demon a little tighter.

Bill makes a low, pleased sound, getting comfortable - then suddenly jerks in place. His head doesn’t rise, but Dipper feels him go tense.

“Ahem. Cute, kid. But you musta misheard me.” Bill clears his throat without looking up. And raises a finger, wagging it. “I said I love fucking you.”

“Uh huh.” Lies, again. Weird one for him to pull, though. Bill doesn't say that sort of thing often, but he’s never outright denied it before. “Sure.”

Dipper keeps running his hand through Bill’s hair, ruffling it slightly. Bill lets out an annoyed grunt, but doesn’t move, face planted on Dipper’s chest. For some reason the tips of his ears are pink.

But. Wait.

Demons do things backwards.

Hell, Dipper’s just read more articles than he’d admit about this exact topic. He should have figured. Though he was… distracted. When it happened.

“Well. If you had said something that kinky,” Dipper continues, feeling Bill mouth a swear against his skin. He thunks his forehead against his human pillow, and Dipper starts to smile. “I would’ve been really into it.”

Bill looks up. Eye narrowing.

Watching his expression turn from annoyed to conflicted is the third best thing that’s happened today.

“Kind of a shame,” Dipper adds, dropping his hands to his sides. He shrugs, then tucks his arms behind his head. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t be that sexy.”

“Hey!”

A brief tussle ensues. Not a fight, and not quite a wrestle. Mostly, it’s Bill jostling Dipper around and Dipper fending him off, neither with much force. He gets two sharp nips on his ear, then gentle teeth on his shoulder. Bill worries the flesh for a moment - a token gesture - before rolling off Dipper with a satisfied grunt.

Dipper follows, throwing an arm over his demon. And when he cuddles up against Bill’s side, he feels Bill adjust to meet him.

Bill lets out a pleased sigh Relaxed, for once. Settling into that lazy, post-sex lassitude that Dipper only sees on rare occasions. Radiating smugness, too; he’s obviously congratulating himself. Dipper could see that in his face from a mile away.

Dipper narrows his eyes. It’s nice when Bill’s calm - but he’s also telling himself he's the greatest, cleverest, most superlative demon ever. That gets annoying.

He’s proven correct moments later, when Bill starts to chuckle.

“I can’t believe you thought you needed advice to seduce me.” Bill says. He shakes his head, almost incredulous. There’s a fond grin on his face. “I married a moron.”

The buried complement is in one of its shallowest graves yet. Dipper narrows his eyes. He would hit him with a pillow, but he’s using Bill for that right now. So he won’t.

“Fine.” He pats Bill’s chest instead. Feeling warm, and pretty relaxed himself. “Next time I won’t let you leave.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll interrupt everything,” Dipper insists. He props himself up on one elbow, glaring without any heat at Bill’s stupid handsome face. “You’ll never get any plans done.”

A smirk, and a lazy shrug. Bill even rolls his eye, grinning wider. “Hey, you can try.”

“You asked for it, Bill Cipher” Dipper’s smiling now. He rolls on top of his idiot demon, cupping his face, shaking it in his grasp just to watch Bill get grumpy. “Prepare to be bored senseless, hanging out with some human all the time.”

“Pfft, hardly!” Bill waves that off like it’s not even an issue. He also grabs Dipper’s butt. “You’ll never manage it.”

Hearing Bill practically perform necromancy on the usually buried compliments is - The only retort there is kissing him stupid. As always it disarms him; a demon, easily subdued. An idiot, who thinks just because his tongue is in Dipper’s mouth that he’s won.

All demons are stupid in the ways of romance. Research alone has proven that. And… real life has kind of proven that Dipper’s… not the greatest either.

Too bad for, Bill, though. Infinite knowledge, insane power. And stupid, and overlooking things. A gossip and a nerd. He admitted it already - too easily seduced, if you’re the right person.

It’s too late for Bill to win this one. He’s already met his match.

“Leave the gossip rags outta the bedroom, sapling.They’re made by idiots, for idiots. Terrible advice, all round.” Bill adds, once they’ve parted again again. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s back, running a hand over the back of his neck - then makes a face, as a thought strikes him. “I’m just glad you didn’t try the starfruit thing.”

Dipper…. Probably shouldn’t ask. If Bill thinks it’s bad, who knows what it looks like to a mortal. But hell, he’s always curious. Dipper sits up. “Sorry, the what thing?”

“Oh man, I gotta show you!” Bill perks up. He shuffles into a seated position, leaning against the headboard. One snap of the fingers, and magazine blinks into existence on his lap. “It’s horrible.”

Dipper scoots up and over, resting his head on Bill’s shoulder. Watching, as he flips to the advice column.

Turns out Bill has collected more than a few issues himself. Not for advice, but out of sheer amusement.

If Dipper thought humans gave each other bad advice, holy shit. He’s amazed he got anything useful from his own research. For every drop of decent advice, the rest are insane by any standard. Demons have to be actively fucking each other over, they can’t truly believe any of this crap.

Most of the time, Dipper bickers with his husband, while Bill finds points to argue right back. It’s more fun than Dipper will ever say out loud, and Bill enjoys it immensely.

This time, they’re sitting together. Bill nudging him to read another article, and Dipper pointing out how bad demonic advice is about humans. There’s more than a few magazines, and they comb over every single awful inch of them.

Reading how dumb and wrong other beings are. How they’re ridiculous and stupid and terrible - it’s another contest, kind of. Bill’s creative with his wordplay, mocking every single aspect. Dipper, though, has more pointed insights, and one of them makes Bill laugh so hard he nearly chokes on his own spit.

It’s different. It’s new.

And it’s fun.

Spending time with Bill is both unusual, and insane. It defies all natural laws, every legal one, and common sense is completely tossed out the window. Demons would think half their dates are boring. Humans would think the rest are insane.

For once, Bill had the right sentiment when it came to other people..

‘Screw ‘em’, is pretty good advice.

“Y’know, I had a centerfold in onna these things a couple centuries ago.” Bill admits, on the fifth issue. He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Can’t recall which one, though.”

“I bet it was awful,” Dipper lies. He hopes the corner of glossy paper hanging out from under his mattress won't be too obvious. “You’re the worst.”

“I am,” Bill says, with the usual amount of pride. His chest puffs out a little, he raises his chin.

Dipper takes Bill’s hand in his own, squeezing tight. “You are.”

Fuck it. They don’t have to make sense to anyone else. Bill’s incomprehensible to nearly everyone as it is, and Dipper barely understands himself half the time -

But the more time they spend together, the more they get each other.

And it’s never, ever boring.

Bill beams at him, pulling Dipper in for a kiss. Before he has a chance to take charge, Dipper puts his tongue in Bill’s mouth first. Another contest, that Bill easily takes him up on, surging in for another kiss - He only breaks off halfway through to start laughing.

Demonic, human, or otherwise - No matter how normal or weird it gets -

Dipper smiles, and holds Bill tighter. Feeling his chest shake with amusement, a warm body lying on him.

He knows they’ll have plenty of time together.

#Not Safe for the working #familiar!au #This really needed another editing pass but maybe I'll do that if I ever put this up on AO3 #I just reached the point where I couldn't look at it anymore and had to get it out of my brain for a bit #My apologies that this is all I have to offer you #At least it may bring you some amusement #Uhhh usually I have fun tag facts let's see #Oh yeah the event Bill was hosting was absolutely a demonic invasion of some sort #It's just that demons *see* it as a party #And wouldn't you know it it helps if you've got a major heavyweight for your scheduled shenanigans #Because you know that when it's on a timetable your party favors/victims are going to mount a defense #Imagine some demon hanging up after Dipper throws the phone #Another asking 'so is Bill gonna show up'#A slow shake of the head - if they have a head - 'he's getting laid instead :('#Sorry Dipper you made it pretty obvious what was going on #And then the 'party' was an absolute disaster #Bill says it serves them right; Dipper is mostly unaware of all of this #Does this mean that Bill will let himself be in this situation again??? Yes. Yes it does #Bless you Dipper you pulled out several stops but you didn't know what to do once you had said stops pulled #Anyway hope it wasn't too awful guys!! I'm working on other stuff too #I'm gonna go lie down now

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anopenblogtomyparents · 3 years

Text

(eating disorder/disordered eating patterns and related content TW)

does anyone else with dysmorphia or DEPs feel uncomfortable using ‘fat’ as a descriptive word when trying to explain to someone else how you see yourself??

like it feels wrong- i am visibly underweight and it’s like if i say that i think i look fat, i’m playing into a stereotype or grabbing for attention or something like that. like someone who actually is overweight is going to judge me for using a word i clearly don’t fit.

i have a hard time talking about what i see in a mirror bc ‘fat’ and ‘gross’ aren’t synonymous but in my stupid, disordered head, the only way i can avoid saying ‘fat’ is by substituting it with ‘gross’, which just makes it sound worse.

i guess i’m more worried about offending someone by trying to get my meaning across properly than actually focusing on my illness lmfao. sounds about right

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umikawa · 3 years

Text

this was written at 3/4 am...so sorry if it’s bad..

Semi Eita x Gn reader. Best friends to lovers except I cant write best friends to lovers properly. 1.4K words

Warnings: fifth-grade humor of laughing at poop. Cursing, I think. The tiniest smudge of angst. The ocean?

“It’s cold.” His face was scrunched up, nose red from the harsh wind.

You don’t look at him, staring down at the flower in your hands. “It’s the ocean, what did you expect?”

“Hot weather with hot babes!” He shouted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “No offense.”

“Why would I be offended, you’re not looking so hot right now.”

He smirks, tilting his head at you. “You think I’m hot?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at your blunt answer. Even though he had expected it, it caught him off guard. Mouth agape and the reddening of his cheeks not coming from the cold winds.

He zips his jacket up to his chin, putting the hood over his head. “Whatever, let’s just go somewhere else.”

You smile at his back, following after him. “Okay.”

The ocean trip became a regular thing, complaints spewed from his mouth multiple times yet, he never bothered to change the date you two would go. Always opting for that January day, never before, and never after.

“Eita, I’ve been meaning to ask something.”

His fingers stop strumming his guitar, the slight echo of the strings filling his ears as you looked at him. “What’s up?”

“Why this day?” He perks a brow at you, confusion etched over his face. “Sorry, I mean- we take this trip every year on the same day and I’ve always wondered why.”

He blinks, rubbing his cheek. “I actually don’t know. I just figured it’d be routine to do it, almost like a holiday.”

“Anniversary?”

He looks at you, your head tilted and he can feel a smile making its way to your face. “Yeah, an anniversary.”

A seagull passes above you, waves crashing against the shore. A splat resonates through the empty beach, stifled laughter coming from him before he bursts into a fit.

It was childish sure, laughing uncontrollably at the sound of droppings splattering against the pavement. But, the way his eyes are screwed tightly, how his arm clutches his stomach, and tears prod at his eyes. It’s all perfect.

He finds himself coughing a second later, his laughter dying down as he struggles to catch his breath, fanning at his eyes to dry the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Eita are you okay?” You ask him, rubbing his back.

He nods, reaching behind you for a water bottle, chugging down every last drop, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with every sip. “Yeah, sorry I got too ahead of myself.”

“It was a bit childish.”

“Well, I’m sorry for having the humor of a fifth-grader.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

He blushed, yet another reoccurring thing that comes along with the trip, he always ends up blushing at something you’ve said.

“Shut up.”

And every time, he brushes it off as nothing despite the rapid beating in his chest.

“When are you gonna tell them.”

He jolts at the voice, looking to his left to see Tendou a little too close for comfort, staring at him like a fish out of water.

“What are you talking about?” He asks.

The red-head shoulders slumped, fingers rubbing his temple. “When are you gonna tell (Name)-Chan you’re in love with them?”

He blinks, the tips of his ears growing red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, so you don’t like them? I guess I should tell Kenjiro, he’s been wanting to ask them out.” He says, waving with two hands as he exited the room, leaving Semi alone with his thoughts.

“You’re acting weird.”

He jolts at your voice, sheepishly smiling as he rubbed his neck. “I don’t know what you mean! I’m perfectly fine.” You stare at him, letting the silence overcome the two of you, sweat building on his forehead at your stare. “So did Shirabu talk to you about anything?”

You tilt your head at him, “what do you mean? Why would he talk to me outside of volleyball?”

He nods, it’s not like that second-year cared about anything other than grades and setting to Ushijima. “Oh sorry, I just thought he’d ask you about something.”

“Oh, that’s what this is about.” He looks at you, expectant eyes waiting for a response. “He didn’t know how to confess to the person he liked so he asked me for help,” you looked around you, leaning closer to him. “But don’t tell him I told you, he threatened to serve a volleyball at my head.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, at the threat and himself. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so hung up on something that didn’t even happen.

He freezes, Tendou’s words filling his mind.

“When are you gonna tell (Name)-Chan you’re in love with them?”

Shit.

“Ei, I think I’m stuck.”

He looks around for you, not seeing you but he can still hear your grunts. “Where are you?”

“I’m down here!” He sees your hand poke out from a hole in the sand, the color draining from his face before he runs to you.

He lays on his stomach, looking down at you. “How’d you even manage this?”

“I got bored so I dug a hole.” You say, staring at the crab that had unluckily dug its way into the hole. “Save him Ei, he must return to the sea.” You said, holding the grab above your head as if it were a deity.

He snorts, picking the crab up from your hands. “You’re such a weirdo.”

You glance up at him, his cheeks burning when you puff out your cheeks at him. “Whatever, just help me out.”

He props himself up on his elbows, smiling down at you. “No, I think I’ll let you stay down there.”

“But Eita!”

“No buts.” He said, wagging his finger in the air. “Though, I must say,” he starts, tapping his chin. “If you are quiet for a couple of minutes and let me talk I’ll get you out.”

The word deal falls from your mouth in a snap and his heart pounds in his chest.

He’s quiet though, no words are coming from him but his mind is a jumbled mess, words popping up in his head a mile a minute but he doesn’t speak.

He’s scared.

Scared of losing his best friend. Scared of losing the person he’d cry to at night when the nightmares wouldn’t stop coming. Scared of losing the one who baked him cookies the first night he stayed in the dorms away from his parents.

Terrified of losing you.

“Eita?”

He looks down at you, concern written all over your face and you look around, trying to get out yourself so you can hold him, tell him he’s fine even if you’re the reason why.

Time stops, and the ocean crashes against the sand.

“I love you.” He says, and time begins again.

Your head feels foggy, the three simple words he’d uttered occupying the space in your heart.

Semi Eita loves you.

“In what way?” You ask, clutching the hem of your, no his jacket, blurred eyes looking at him.

“In the, I want to kiss you really badly and take you out on dates, show you off to my friends and classmates, kind of way.”

“You didn’t have to make it rhyme.” You say, wiping under your eyes. “I love you too.”

He beams for what feels like the first time in forever, cheeks tingling at the heat that rushes, as well as the stretch of his smile.

The weight in his shoulders fades when you smile back at him, pushing yet another crab out of the hole, wincing when it pinches you. He laughs at you, reaching down for your hand, pressing a feather-light kiss to the finger the crab pinched, watching you turn your head away from him.

He grins, picking up the tiny shovel you used to dig the hole you were trapped in, “Now, let’s get you out of there.”

Bonus!

“Gee (Name), I don’t know how you do this so easily.” Semi groaned, fist-pounding against his thigh. “Damn it burns like hell.”

“Eita, it’s just face wash.”

He sits up, accidentally hitting his forehead against yours, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” He exclaims, fingers hovering over the spot. “Does it hurt? Do you need ice?”

“Eita.”

“What?”

“Kiss it better?” You ask, innocently smiling at him.

He stills, heat rushing from under his shirt, to the tips of his ears. A snicker comes from behind you, Tendou and Shirabu sharing a knowing look before whipping out their phones.

“Oh, (Name)-chan, mind moving to the right a little bit?”

#3am fics hit different ok #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #semi eita x reader #semi eita imagines #semi eita scenarios #eita semi x reader #eita semi imagines #eita semi scenarios #parker.writes

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operationcavill · 4 years

Text

Untangled - Part 3

Does Henry finally get Y/N number? Does Y/N remember to ask for his? Keep reading to find out!

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

Part 1 | Part 2

The über driver jumps when he hears someone shout as they slam his door, “You didn’t give him your number, AGAIN?”

“I panicked, S/N!” She puts her hand to her forehead, “He didn’t give me his number either.” The elevator to their room is silent, mostly due to the fact that her brother in law looks like he might lose his drinks any second.

Making sure they got in safely she hugs her and checks the time. Her sister has hit her needy buzzed phase of the night, “You sure you don’t wanna stay for a bit? We could watch Drag Race.

Not wanting to invade on them any longer she shakes her head, “Nah. I’m gonna head home and hopefully sleep through this storm. I really don’t want listen to B/I/N vomit again anyway.” She gives her sister a peck on the cheek as she shuts the door to their room. Y/N walks down the hall toward the elevator, praying she doesn’t get stuck inside of it if the power goes out.

The ding brings her back to reality, “Hello there.”

What is it about a man with an accent, “Oh, hi,” She bites her lip.

“I didn’t know you wanted to run into me so soon. You following me, Darling?”

The way he says, ’Darling’ puts her on her toes, “My sister is staying here. Are you following me?”

Henry crosses his toned arms, “Just a very nice coincidence.”

“I take it this isn’t your floor?” She enters the elevator, pressing the lobby button.

He lets the doors close, “No, but I don’t mind sharing a ride back down,” He takes note of the sound of her boots on the laminate floor. He liked to see her in nothing but those boots. They were tall, black, cutting off at her knee and letting just enough room to show a bit of her thigh. They reminded him of something 60s, go go boots and all that. She was dressed very well but looked so comfortable. A simple dress with what she would later call ‘a fun cardigan, not a sweater,' “How’d you know it was gonna rain like that?”

She looks at him, smudged eyeliner making her look even more endearing somehow, “Hmm?”

“How’d you know it was gonna rain?”

She shrugs, “It’s just one of those weird things.” She taps her toes while the elevator beeps, still paranoid about getting stuck in the small space.

“Is it terribly forward of me to tell you how cute you are?”

“No,” She looks as if she’s embarrassed to be complimented, and he can’t understand why.

Henry moves closer, “Well, Y/N, I think you’re lovely.”

They approach the lobby, “I, um, need to catch my Uber.”

He licks his bottom lip, “What a shame. Can I wait with you?”

She tries to hide her smile but it quickly falls as she notices the rush of people coming from outdoors, “Ugh. Frickin’ rain."

“Don’t like storms?”

“I don’t mind them. I live in an older building so when it storms, we usually lose power for the night.”

“Ah, I certainly hope not. It’s surprisingly cold tonight.” He would love to keep her warm on a night like this.

“It is. Getting stuck in the rain didn’t seem to help,” Oh, what a playful look she gives him.

He laughs, “I admit I was wrong.”

“Shit.”

“Everything ok?”

“My ride cancelled on me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” His hands find themselves in his pockets again, “Um, well I can give you a ride if you like.”

“Oh that’s super nice of you but the bus runs—“ He almost rolls his eyes, the bus?

Henry hates the idea of her riding a bus alone at night, and in this weather? She could get sick. He couldn’t have that, “Please, I insist.”

He receives a quizzical look, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,”

“Ok, well, I’m telling my sister you’re giving me a ride. You know, just in case you turn into a psychopath or something. No offense,” Y/N laughs nervously.

“None taken, car’s this way,” He returns the smile, hoping she’s not too bothered.

She follows him to the cold garage, “I hope you have heated seats. Should’ve worn jeans,” She wouldn’t say it out loud but the wind was making her butt so cold that she could have worn it was going numb.

Henry grins as he opens her door, “You’re in luck.”

“Thank you.” Her sweet smile.

“So, where am I headed?”

Y/N suddenly get a bit more animated, waving her hands about, “Outside Squirrel Hill, when you pull out, go left, “ She points, ”and pop on Irvine.”

“Alrighty.”

“And at the second light, make a right.” She zoned out on his hand on the gearshift, he has very nice hands. They look soft, but not too soft.

“So, how’s your legs?”

She was too preoccupied by his hand movements to hear what he said,“Hmm?”

“Your legs were cold?”

Thank god its dark in this car, she blushing and wants to jump right out of the car, “Oh, yeah, the heated seats, they’re fine. “

“Good, it is rather cold. I should’ve brought a jacket.”

“Extra cold for the beginning of October,” A loud clap of thunder makes her gasp, “Oh!

He jokes with her, “Not scared of storms, huh?”

She sighs, “Took me by surprise is all,” The rest of the ride is quiet, a soft song playing and the rain violently hitting the sun roof.

——————————

He parks in front of the brick building and gives a sympathetic groan, “Well, I’d say your electricity theory was correct.”

She sighs, “Listen, would you mind walking me up? There’s a creepy guy on the 3rd floor that I wouldn’t exactly like to meet in the dark.”

His stomach drops, is she safe here? “Of course. Are you ready to brave the rain?”

No.“Count of 3?”

“1-2-3,” They both open their doors and bolt.

“Uh,” Y/N feels the icy cold drops hit her thighs as she runs.

He grabs her hand and encourages her run faster, “Hurry!”

“Oh my god,” She’s shivering now, and she notices the thinness of his shirt once more and the body underneath it, and that he’s still hold her hand.

Regrettably, he lets go to shake the water off his arms, “I think we might make a puddle in the lobby.”

She shivers, “Right. Steps are over here.”

"What floor are you on?”

She groans, “I’m on 5.”

“Well, you know what they say. Never skip leg day.” Henry huffs and gets a head start leaving her to skip to catch up.

As they reaches the 3rd floor, the creepy guy is waiting just as Y/N thought he would, “Who’s ya friend?” She moves so that she’s walking beside Henry, “You gotta name?” They continue on, rightfully ignoring him.

He goes wide-eyed, “Jesus. He is creepy.”

Y/N sighs and shrugs, “He makes everyone uncomfortable.”

“I can see why. Those emergency hallway lights aren’t exactly doing him any favors either.”

“So, here I am.” She’s suddenly very aware of her lungs. Her chest feels tighten as she looks at him.

‘Here you are.” If she was in a movie, this is what they meant by calling men ‘Dreamy’. His thick eyelashes and soft lips, even his stupid scruff is beautiful.

“Thank you for the ride. And walking up here with me,”

“No problem, it was good to see you, again, so soon.”

Another loud boom of thunder rips through the night, “God!”

He tries not to laugh, “I think you might be a liar about hating storms.”

Her voice falls, showing her shyness all over again, “I think this one just has me particularly jumbled.”

“Oh really?” Henry moves closer, mere inches from her face.

She swallows, “Yes.”

He’s so close to her face that she could feel the warmth of his breath, “Why’s that?”

“You’re just—,” Y/N is distracted by movement in the corner of her eye, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

Henry watches the creepy man from the third floor descend the stairs and looks back toward Y/N, “Does he do that a lot?”

“No, I’ve never seen him up here, “ She looks startled and he instinctively walks back to her with large strides, briefly touching her arm, “Do you care to come in for a second? I don’t really want someone eavesdropping on me.” He nods, shuffling inside with her.

She eagerly shuts the door, locking it, but bumping into henry as soon as she turns back around, “Oh, sorry. It’s really dark.”

“It’s ok. I have some candles and stuff. You want some tea? The good thing about these old buildings is that they always have gas ranges.” The light from her phone helps her navigate and see Henry standing there with his wet clothes, looking ridiculously attractive. She awkwardly takes her boots off before kicking them to the side.

He can’t contain a chuckle, which earns awkward silence from her, “I don’t mean to laugh, you looked very cute struggling.”

“That’s a weird compliment, you know?” He shrugs with his hands in his pocket. She motions at him even though they can barely see, “Take off your shoes, please. With my luck, I’ll probably slip and fall on a single drop of water. Come on, let’s make that tea.”

Henry walks behind her very closely, making Y/N’s heart race in the best way, ”Thank you for letting me come in.”

“I guess knowing a superhero came in handy.” She laughs, “So, tea?”

“That’d be great.” He watches her look through drawers, sifting through things with her aid on her phone light.

“I think I put all the candles in the hallway,” She hums before speaking,“I don’t have anything warm to offer you besides the tea. Unless you want to wear a robe with little gold stars on it.”

His mind goes off with how adorable she must look about of the bath. Her skin all flush and warm bundled up in a robe, “Ohh, sounds very fashionable but I’m ok. Thank you, though.”

“I’m going to dry off and change before I turn into an ice cube. I’ll be right back.” Henry looks around her kitchen and tries to make out all her knickknacks from the barely there light of the small window above the sink. She returns in a sweater and leggings, and a towel in her hand. Soft. Y/N bumps into him a second time, “Sorry, I can’t really see. Got you a towel,” She clears her throat, “Got the candles.”

He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her body against his, “S’alright.”

She finds a lighter and joyfully announces, “Let there be light!”

“You are an exquisite hostess.” He rubs the towel in his hair, leaving it a curly mess.

“Thank you. I do try,” she searches her cabinet after filling the kettle, “black tea, green tea, or um, more black tea.

Henry looks offended, “I’m British.” He sits down in one of the wooden chairs in her small kitchen, somehow looking right at home.

Y/N puts on her best fake accent, “Oh, my mistake, Mr. Cavill.”

He attempts to wink, “Cheeky.”

“So, you’re in my kitchen and I barely know you. I’m either very stupid or very smart and pulled the hottest man in the world inside my apartment.”

“Should I say thank you?”

“Probably.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N plops the tea bags in the mugs, “Let me know if I’m keeping you. I didn’t really mean to just drag you in here. That guy is just such a weirdo,” She fills the cups, “I kind of panicked.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Sugar?” Sweet like her.

There goes those thoughts again, “Yes.”

“I, um, dont usually invite strange men into my house. So, I hope you’re not a complete crazy-pants.”

“Please, if you’re uncomfortable I can go. I don’t want to over stay my welcome, or make you think I’m a crazy-pants.”

“No, it’s ok. I actually like having someone here tonight. He’s never came up here before, and I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he sits up straight, “and I like your flat. Cozy, it feels like a home.”

“Thank you. I try to make it my little hideaway.”

“It’s nice. Especially in this storm.”

“I can’t believe how bad it is. I don’t think it’s rained this hard since the beginning of summer.” A bolt of lightning and loud clap of thunder shakes her, “Jesus!”

“Whoa.”

A buzzing noise comes from the counter, “Well, my phone is on 3% and there’s a flood warning.”

It’s then that he remembers his phone is in his car, “That’s cheerful news,” he watches her in the dim light. She picks at her sweater, seemingly avoiding his gaze and the glow of the candles make her all too alluring. Even when she isn’t speaking, she says a lot. Y/N’s body talks, and he wants to answer. “Ok over there?” She grants him pleasant smile with a nod.

She grants him pleasant smile with a nod, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” He can barely handle the few seconds of anticipation.

“Do you mind staying — would you want to stay here for a little bit?”

He hates that he gets excited by these words, because maybe she’s too scared to be alone or maybe he’s misread the situation entirely, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t like the thought of you driving in this, or being responsible for Superman’s death. I’d feel better if you’d stay until it lightens up. It looks like there’s a bit of a blackout, I can’t see really see anything out there.”

He smiles widely, “Well, I’ll stay and chat if you’ll have me.”

Before they know it, two and a half hours pass by. They share their favorite books and what music they like. They both agree that they could eat gnocchi for ever meal. He struggles with jet lag and Y/N has never been overseas. She misses her niece and mentions how she’s always loved to paint, too. Henry finds her passion for her craft and love for her family endearing, and it’s something he can understand. He always misses his family when he’s away, but his drive to work is practically unstoppable.

“What time is it,” she stretches, accidentally giving him a glimpse of her stomach. He wants to touch her skin.

He pulls up his sleeve to expose his no doubt expensive watch, “Oh, it’s just past 1,” He shrugs, “time flies when you’re having fun.”

She yawns, “It does.”

“You’re cute.”

“Stop it.” Y/N sits up straight, ready to argue for no reason. She’s bit grouchy when she’s sleepy and not even Henry’s good looks and charming accent can beak that seal.

“No.” He can tell she’s holding back a smile.

Ok, maybe Henry’s charm can break her out of it, “Yes.”

He shifts forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Your cute sweaters and your stupid cute mugs.”

She gasps, “They’re not stupid!”

“Yes, they are, they’ve got blue frogs on them. Your cute smile and your cute sleepy voice,” She leans back against the chair, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

They stare at each other, the candle light flickering between them.

“Do you always pout at compliments?” He enjoys that she cocks her said to the side, gearing up to return the banter.

“No, In fact-,” A knock at the door cuts her off.

He shares confused glance, “I take it you’re not expecting anyone?”

Y/N gets up but stops to grab his forearm, “Come with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to grab a candle and guide her, but her hands are so cold he can’t help but clasp his hand over hers, “Your fingers are freezing!”

Y/N is too worried to appreciate the sweet gesture, “Shut up and see who it is!”

“It’s your apartment!” He guffaws and rolls his eyes.

“Henry! Just look through the thingie.” The way she’s said his name could leave him melting right in the narrow hallway.

“Fine.... I don’t see anyone?” He tries not to show his concern in order to save her from worrying even more.

She squeezes his arm, “What?

“No one is-,” Another knock comes from the hall.

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message!]

@igotkatiepowers @xxxkatxo @lunedelorient

#my posts #text #my writing #henry cavill #henry x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill blog #superman #dc #hc #henry cavill fan fiction

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imagining-supernatural · 4 years

Text

The Second Check-In

Part 12 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You and Sebastian discuss how to handle dealing with the press and media now that word is out that he’s married, then you go to the second-check in and see how your tumor is doing.

Word Count: 2,644

The picture that was taken when you were getting into the car showed half of your face and it was splashed everywhere. It seemed like the entire world wanted to know who Sebastian Stan’s mystery wife was. You’d decided it was probably best if he didn’t take you to the hospital on Monday and he’d reluctantly agreed. So, while you enjoyed your anonymity a little longer, he had a video conference with his agent and PR team.

As you got ready to leave after your infusion, a nurse stopped you and let you know that Dr. Chowdhury wanted to see you before you left.

“I am an old man, but I do have grandkids,” he started off. It was an odd beginning to a conversation between a doctor and his patient, but your life was one whole jumble of weird, so you shrugged it off. “So I see the headlines sometime, and, if I’m not mistaken, the man who comes in with you so often has been hitting headlines lately. Or, rather, you have been.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“You don’t need to worry about the hospital staff. Patient confidentiality, you know. But the other patients are not bound by the rules we are. I do not want to cause any undue stress, but it is imperative to your treatment that you remain in a positive frame of mind. So I was wondering if you would prefer we move you to a private room while you are here.”

“I—that’d probably be smart.”

He nodded and made a note in your chart. “Good. Also, tomorrow we’ll run you through some more scans. I want to see the progress this new medication is making.”

“What if—” You really didn’t want to know the answer to this question, but you needed to ask it anyway. “What if there hasn’t been any progress? What if the tumor just won’t shrink?”

“We have one more course of action we can take should it come to that. We aren’t giving up on you, Y/N. Don’t give up on us just yet.”

“This journalist said they like my hair,” you mentioned conversationally as Sebastian puttered around the kitchen, making dinner.

“It’s good hair.”

“It is good hair, isn’t it? I’m glad neither of my treatments caused hair loss.”

Besides the photo that leaked from the Vegas wedding and the one from the diner, no other pictures or new information had come to light. So far, you hadn’t seen any outright negativity in the news regarding you or Sebastian. Mostly because the headlines were focused on you as a Mystery Woman. As soon as the veil lifted and the truth came to light, you were sure things would turn ugly. But for now, you would enjoy the neutrality.

“You haven’t read any comments, have you?”

“Nope. I promised I wouldn’t and, as Dr. Chowdhury said today, it is imperative that I maintain a positive attitude for my treatment to work,” you said, trying your best to match his Indian accent. However, much like your aptitude for foreign languages, you were downright dismal at accents.

“You talked to Dr. Chowdhury?”

“Yeah.” You set down your phone and waited until Seb looked at you. “Can you come with me tomorrow? We’re running scans and he’s gonna let me know if this treatment is actually shrinking the tumor. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go alone, considering how I reacted last time.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What time’s the appointment?”

“Two. I know you’re going on some talk shows here in the city this week. Will that work for you?”

He nodded. “I’m going on Late Night with Seth tomorrow. Should have enough time.” Sebastian checked on the soup on the stove before rounding the island and taking a seat next to you. “Speaking of… Have you thought any more about what you’re comfortable with me talking about on TV?”

“A little. As much as I’d love for you to veto all questions about me, I think your PR team is right. You probably should acknowledge the elephant.”

“Are you calling yourself fat?” He gasped in fake offense.

“Elephant in the room, you idiot.”

“I’m your idiot, though.”

Okay, so you knew you were technically married to the man, but it still felt wrong to feel butterflies in your stomach when he teased you like that.

Friends. That’s all you were in actuality.

“And as my idiot,” you kept it going, ignoring how much you loved saying those words, “I think you should definitely acknowledge that you’re married. I don’t think I’m comfortable with my name being out there, though.”

He nodded. “I figured that. And I agree.”

“Part of me wants to play it safe and pretend like we’ve known each other for a while. Like, long-distance relationship thing. But another part of me hates the lie. And also, as someone who grew up on Harry Potter fanfiction, this accidental marriage trope would just be eaten up by your fans.”

“Which means we’d probably stay in the spotlight longer,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. And you’d have to explain why we stayed married. Mentioning that your wife has cancer is kind of a downer for a talk show like Seth’s.”

Wife. Rather than think about how the word applied to you, you chose to replay the John Mulaney segment in your head as a nice distraction from those damn butterflies in your stomach.

That’s my WIFE!

“Do you feel comfortable with me telling everyone you have cancer?” He asked.

At some point during this conversation, you’d grabbed his hand and were now playing with his fingers. You kept your eyes on where your fingers were massaging his as you contemplated the question. It was the only one you hadn’t come to conclusion about before now.

“I don’t know…”

“Think out loud. Maybe I can help.”

“Okay, so, on one hand, if you mention I have cancer, that would be a great time to ask for privacy. You know. Play the pity card. Say how I’m going through treatment and the stress would make it harder for me. Which is the truth.”

“On the other hand…” he prompted.

“If you leave that part out I might seem less interesting and the spotlight might move on faster, you know? And I’m a private person, as you know.”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. I remember, Y/N no-middle-name Y/L/N.”

His reminder of the first day you were in the city made you laugh. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago. If only you’d known that you would be putting your entire life in his hands less than two days later…

“You know what? I trust you, Seb. The only hard line I’m drawing is my name. I want to keep that out of the light as long as I can. For the rest… you’re better at this publicity thing than I am. You’ve talked to your PR team. I trust your judgment.”

“That’s so sweet,” he cooed, freeing one of his hands to wipe away imaginary tears. “You’re making me cry, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up and check on the soup.”

“You asked me to be here so—”

“If I’d known you’d be so annoying I wouldn’t ha—”

“Just give me your fucking hand, dammit. I’m trying to be supportive!” Sebastian scooted his chair over and grabbed both of your hands out of your lap, gripping them on the armrest victoriously. “Now I have both of your hands. Whatchu gonna do ‘bout that, huh sweetheart?”

Glare at him, was your answer, though the shock of the new pet name dampened the fire behind it. It was a few minutes after two ‘o clock and you were waiting in Dr. Chowdhury’s office. A nurse let you know he’d be a few minutes late which immediately made your blood pressure skyrocket.

And that’s how you found yourself arguing with Sebastian about him holding your hand.

You huffed, but shifted in the seat so you could more comfortably keep your hands in his.

“Glad to see you two getting along so well,” an amused British accent you hadn’t heard in a few weeks said, alerting you to her presence in the room.

“Helen!” Seb released your hands for long enough to stand, give her a hug, and shake Dr. Chowdhury’s hand before sitting back down and expectantly putting his hands on the armrest of your chair. Neither doctor said anything as you stared down your husband. It was only when he quirked his eyebrow that you sighed and gave him your hands again.

“Sorry ‘bout that. He’s trying to become the personification of the phrase way too over-supportive,” you shot both doctors a tolerant grin.

“There is no such thing when it comes to treatment,” Dr. Sharpe said, grinning as she sat next to Dr. Chowdhury behind his desk.

“Told you,” Seb muttered to you.

“Shut up, the adults are talking,” you whispered back. To the doctors, you said, “So, I don’t know whether to be scared or happy that both of you are here.”

“We are seeing progress, Y/N,” Dr. Chowdhury said simply.

“Progress,” you repeated softly. The word felt foreign in your mouth.

“What does that mean?” Seb asked, squeezing your fingers.

Dr. Chowdhury sat forward, clasped hands resting on his desk. “It means that your scans showed that the tumor is shrinking. Slower than we would have hoped, but it is shrinking.”

“And before you say anything,” Dr. Sharpe broke in, “It is enough. While the progress is slower than we planned for, we both agree that if it continues like this, the tumor should grow small enough to remove it. It just might take longer than we planned for.”

“It’s shrinking,” you whispered, still processing this good news. Despite your better mood, you’d still been expecting bad news when you came in.

“It’s shrinking,” Dr. Chowdhury confirmed, smiling.

This treatment was working. There was progress. It was shrinking.

“How much longer do you think it will take?” Seb asked.

Dr. Chowdhury nodded his approval of the question. “That is why both Helen and I are here today. You have a decision to make and we are both of different minds. As you know, I have kept Dr. Sharpe appraised of your progress during this study. We have conferred frequently, so though this is my study, her opinion is very much valid. And both options are medically sound.”

You nodded, ready to listen.

Dr. Chowdhury went first. “I would like to adjust your infusion cocktail one more time. This approach is quite aggressive, but my hope is that the tumor will begin to shrink more rapidly and you can have your surgery at the time we originally planned for.”

“I believe,” Dr. Sharpe took over the conversation at this point, “That it would be best to continue your infusions as they are. We estimate you will have to continue treatment for a month longer, at least, before surgery. But the progress you’ve made in the last week is promising, and you will not have to go through another period of adjusting to the new medication.”

“Option one is a more aggressive treatment plan that would keep us on schedule, and option two is to continue on with the current treatment and wait longer for the surgery?” Sebastian summarized. Both doctors nodded.

“One concern my doctor back home had about more aggressive treatment options was that my body would be too weak for surgery.” You looked at Dr. Chowdhury. “Is that a concern with the more aggressive treatment?”

“It is always a concern. One that I have considered. With how you’ve responded to the increased dosage over the last two weeks, I believe that you will not have to worry about being too weak for surgery. However, if I am wrong about that, there are a few courses of action I have in mind that would help so you can still have the surgery.”

You and Sebastian asked questions for a few more minutes until you felt you had enough information to continue the discussion alone. Since this decision wasn’t as time-pressing as the decision to begin treatment had been, Dr. Chowdhury suggested you two go home and come back the next day with your decision.

Before heading back to the apartment, Sebastian had Sean, your driver, drop you two off at the grocery store. There were a few things you both needed and, for the first time in a while, you felt up to walking around for a bit. So you braved being in public with Sebastian and only teased him a little for his choice of hat. Hopefully it would help keep his anonymity, and by extension, yours.

“Oreos?” You asked hopefully, knowing full well Sebastian wouldn’t say no. You were eating better, but any time you got excited over some food, you could see him mentally putting that dish on a list of meals that you were sure to eat. And even though Oreos weren’t healthy, they were food nonetheless.

“Regular? Double stuffed? Mint?”

“Mmm,” you considered, looking up at the shelves upon shelves of cookies. Your energy was slowly depleting, and you found yourself leaning against the cart more and more. Still, you were enjoying the little trip. “Regular is better to dip in milk, but double stuff is better if you don’t have milk. And you can never go wrong with mint…”

“You want all three?” He shot you a look with an amused eyebrow quirk.

“I mean, yes. But that’s a lot of Oreos to eat before they go stale. Why don’t they have a triple pack? Each row is a different kind? That would sell great.”

Surprise covered his face. “That’s… actually a good idea.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I have good ideas every once in a while.”

“After you made me watch that one movie about the sexually transmitted demon, I’m not so sure.”

Your laughter rang down the aisle. “Okay, fair point.” Rolling the cart forward, you grabbed a pack of mint Oreos and tossed it by the boxed brownies you’d also conned him into getting. He tried talking you out of it, saying you could stop by the bakery down the street and get better brownies, but your counter point that you couldn’t eat half the brownie batter from the bakery had won you the round.

“What’s next?” you asked. “Ice cream?”

“You’re supposed to be eating healthy,” he pointed out.

“Look, can we just be happy that I’m finally getting my appetite back? You can lecture me about calories or saturated fats or whatever tomorrow.” Giving him your best puppy dog eyes, you pouted out your bottom lip. “Please? I might just wither away if I don’t have cheesecake ice cream tonight.”

He mumbled under his breath before starting to walk away.

You followed him, ignoring the squeaky wheel on your cart. “What was that?”

“If you spend more than two minutes choosing which flavor of ice cream, you’re not getting any,” he replied. That wasn’t what he had mumbled, you were sure, but you let it go.

“I’ll do you one better. If Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake isn’t stocked, I won’t get ice cream at all. Deal?”

“Deal. So, ice cream, produce section… anything else?”

With a head shake, you pushed forward until you were walking right next to Sebastian. He glanced at you and you gave him a soft grin. “Thank you, Seb. You’re the best.”

He tossed his arm around your shoulder and pulled you slightly closer. After pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head, he gave you a cocky grin. “I know I am, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

First in Dr. Chowdhury’s office and now here. That damn word was going to be the death of you, you swore.

Any ideas what it was Seb said under his breath?? And how do you think the interview later tonight is going to go?

Chapter 13: The First Interview

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian x reader #Marvel Fanfare #mcu

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messagefromtheveins · 4 years

Text

Losing Control

A/N: Sooo... until last night I didn’t think I’d ever write a fic about Steve. But thanks to my overactive and overly-curious brain this happened 😂

(sidenote: I decided to just take the Chris Evans Taglist and also use it for Cap fics. If someone has a problem with this, please let me know!)

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: Steve/Reader

You were so sure you had done everything right this time.

The compound was nearly empty, most of the Avengers on a mission that Steve hadn't been able to join because of a leg injury- something he claimed wasn't a big deal, but must have been more serious seeing as no one had allowed him to go. The way he had pouted while watching the others leave had been too adorable.

So instead of fighting evil, he had cuddled up with you in bed. A movie- that you knew had a rather saucy sex scene- was playing on the TV and you were wearing your best lingerie set, just in case. You hadn't even needed the sex scene to get things started.

He had distracted you with kisses and innocently wandering hands barely 20 minutes into the movie, the frustration of not being able to be part of the mission slowly fading away with every new kiss until he was completely relaxed in your arms. One of his hands rested on your butt in a gentle touch while his lips eagerly moved with yours, exhaling sharply through his nose as you moved your leg over his hip and pushed yourself up against him.

You could feel how hard he was under his sweatpants and a feeling of excitement bubbled up in your chest. You and Steve had been together for over half a year at this point and you were beyond happy with him- happier than you had ever been with anyone else. Of course, when he was gone on missions you worried, spending nights awake in the bed you usually shared with him, sending silent prayers that he would come back well and in one piece. But the sweet relief of seeing him step into the compound was always so strong that you immediately forgot about all the restless nights until he would leave again.

You knew about his complicated past- the serum, Peggy, the ice, Peggy. You knew that even though he was technically really old he didn't have a lot of experience with love and relationships, though you weren't sure just how inexperienced he was. He had never talked about it. So when you had carefully tried to initiate sex a bunch of times just to be silently rejected, you hadn't taken it personally.

Until now. You were so sure you had done everything right this time.

He went willingly as you pushed him on his back and crawled over him, straddling his hips and letting your hands roam his broad chest without interrupting the kiss. The TV was nothing but an unnecessary background noise at this point, though neither one of you bothered to turn it off. His hands grabbed and squeezed your waist and hips, sending thrills of anticipation through your veins as you slowly started to put more passion into the way you kissed him.

It was a subtle movement, just a slight shift of your hips against his throbbing hard cock, but it was enough to draw a low groan from him. And suddenly you found yourself on your back, a smirk playing on your lips as you looked up to him, though it faded rather quickly again. Insecurity and self-doubt was written all over his face, a heavy feeling settling in your chest as you reached up to cup his cheeks in your hands.

Shaking his head, he avoided your gaze as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, placing a few soft kisses there. "I'm sorry," he whispered so quietly that you barely caught it, your eyes falling shut and eyebrows furrowing.

"You don't need to be," you whispered and combed a hand through his hair, the other rubbing back and forth over his shoulder blades. "Stevie?" you asked, receiving a soft hum from him, "can you answer me one thing?"

"Anything," he murmured, nosing along your collarbone in a tender way.

Opening your eyes, you stared up at the ceiling for a moment before you spoke up. "I just need to know… Is it me?"

Lifting his head, he looked at you with confused eyes. "Is it you what?"

You tightly bit your bottom lip and didn't meet his gaze. "Am I not doing it for you?"

He needed a long moment to fully understand what you were asking, his eyes even more confused as you hesitantly looked into them again before they widened. "Fuck, no," he rushed to get the words out while frantically shaking his head, "no, please don't think that. I'm so sorry that I made you feel this way. I didn't- you're perfect, doll. You're so perfect in every possible way." His eyes didn't leave yours as he spoke and he could still see the doubt written in them. "Fuck, I should've explained things earlier," he sighed and shook his head to himself, "instead I was so relieved that you never caused a scene after I rejected you over and over again and- fuck, I'm so stupid."

Letting himself fall to his back next to you, he ran his hands over his face while you curled up like a cat, facing him. "Explain what?" you asked quietly. The defeated sound in your voice broke his heart, his conflicted eyes meeting your sad ones.

"Ihaveneverdonethisbefore."

His cheeks were crimson red as a jumbled mess of words left his lips, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

His heart was pounding in his chest in a way that made him wonder how you didn't hear it, his lips parting as he took a shaky breath. He had never felt this nervous and insecure before in his entire life. "I have never done this before," he admitted in a much calmer voice, though he felt far from calm. He knew you would laugh in a second.

Instead one of your hands placed around his cheek, your touch so tender and gentle that tears filled his eyes, his vision getting blurry as he stared at the covers. "Steve?" you whispered and patiently waited for him to look at you, your thumb gently caressing his cheek until he finally tilted his head up.

The second his gaze met yours, the words came spilling from his lips. "I know it's ridiculous considering how old I am. But before the serum girls wouldn't even look my way, much less want to have sex with me. And afterwards I only had eyes for Peggy," he gave you an apologetic look as he brought her up once again, but you only shook your head and gave him a smile, still caressing his cheek, "but before anything could've developed, the ice happened and suddenly everything was different. I mean, the opportunity presented itself several times, but I didn't want it to be a cheap hookup with some random girl from a bar. Damn, I sound like such a virgin."

His chuckle made you also laugh, your body shifting closer to his and your forehead playfully knocking against his after he had turned to lay on his side. "No offense, Cap. But you are a virgin."

Mouth dropping open, he looked at you with absolute surprise written in his eyes before an amused grin spread over his lips. "How dare you," he laughed and brought his hands to your sides, a squeal falling from your lips as he immediately found all your ticklish spots.

"Steve, stop," you protested with a giggle that warmed his heart and squirmed away from him. He followed you, but instead of tickling you further he wrapped his arms around you, a rather serious expression settling on his features again.

"Fact is," he started with a deep sigh, "apart from receiving a sloppy blowjob a few years back I'm absolutely inexperienced. And in some really stupid way I was scared to tell you because I know that you're a little more experienced and I'm just... not."

Placing a hand on the back of his head, you looked at him with pure love written in your eyes before you moved closer to him. His eyes fell shut as you placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, his tense muscles slowly relaxing before you guided his head into the crook of your neck. He immediately shifted closer and pushed himself up against you, arms tight around your middle and face burying into your chest in a way that made you smile softly. "I wish you would've told me about this earlier," you whispered, his hands sneaking beneath the hem of your T-shirt to place on your lower back, "but I want you to know that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed to talk to me about stuff like this, yeah? You know I'm not judging you."

Nodding, he slowly looked up to you again, still a bit of insecurity written on his features. "I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to apologize," you shook your head with a soft chuckle, gently brushing his hair off of his forehead. "But I have to admit, I feel better now that I know that it's not me," you grinned.

"I can't believe you thought you're the problem," he sighed before a smirk spread over his lips, "clearly you haven't noticed what you're doing to me sometimes."

"Oh, I have noticed," you giggled, one of his eyebrows raising in an amused and yet cocky way, "we're gonna take it slow, okay? No rush. No pressure. Whenever you're ready."

Your voice was soft and calming in a way that made him feel at ease immediately. "Thank you, doll."

Forever and Ever Taglist: @waitonmedarling @hugefangirl-22 @pastelshawns @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @ultradreamologistblog @justanotherfangurl272 @my-elevenoutof10 @disaster-rose @kellymat

C.Evans Taglist: @tacohead13 @bval-1 @tastebaldwin @sullyosully @kind-sober-fullydressed @pastelcorg @patzammit @katiew1973 @notbexmader @thegetawaywriter

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers writing #writing

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buckysdiary · 4 years

Text

It Doesn’t Matter (Pt. 9) FINALE

Warnings: Swearing, Character Death, Violence, Angst, Masochistic behaviour Pairings: Kylo Ren x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 - You are here!

Read this on DeviantArt!

Summary: After Han Solo and Finn break you out of Hux’s impromptu prison cell, you finally find Rey. However, shortly afterwards, Kylo Ren murders his father. You, Finn and Rey all try to escape into the woods, but you know Kylo Ren isn’t far behind. But now, you will both face each other, each in a new light: you’re not under his mind control any longer, and he has nothing to hide from you.

Word Count: 6,624 (Holy cow guys, this is a mega chapter...)

Warnings: Swearing, Character Death, Violence, Angst, Masochistic behaviour

Finn and Han were sprinting through the Starkiller Base headquarters, and Chewie and I were sharp at their heels. Now and then, I would hear the chaotic sounds of blasters firing and people screaming, telling me that there was some sort of brutal attack on the entire base. We raced past dozens of empty rooms, having to conceal ourselves every so often from Stormtroopers rushing to the scene of the chaos. Finn led us through winding corridors and hallways, seemingly knowing where to go, even though it felt like we weren't making any progress in this maze of a base. I was keeping an eye out for the girl I had seen earlier (Rey, I supposed), but at least an hour had gone by, and she had yet to show up.

The shock of knowing that my squadron was alive, after believing for months that they were all dead, had been replaced with anger. Anger at my own stupidity, anger at my weaknesses, but mostly anger towards Kylo Ren. He had lied to me about everything - and because of that, I was in a completely different situation than I would have been, had I known the truth. My perspective of everything had changed; I realized that, whether General Organa had been searching for me or not, I still owed everything to her. Even if Alavai and Jaxx were dead (which they weren't), I still should have continued to push myself away from Kylo Ren, instead of finding comfort in him. I owed them that much, if not more. And Kylo Ren... I was disgusted with myself to have let him get close to me. He was a large part of the threat on the Resistance, and I had let him touch me, let him walk by my side. I still wasn't sure if what I had felt for him was a part of his control on me or not, but either way, I was horrified that I had ever even spoken with him.

As we reached the end of the corridor, Finn and Solo pushed themselves against the wall, and I followed. Several workmen jogged by us with blasters at hand, shouting orders to each other.

"Is that a PLX 2M?!" Solo whispered.

Finn looked at him confusedly. "How do you know so much about First Order artillery?" he said.

"I knew a guy who used to sell them in the underground market." Solo replied. "And, boy, what I wouldn't give to have that missile launcher right now..."

Chewie let out a small cry, holding up his crossbow.

"Yeah, Chewie, but sometimes you want to put more than just an arrow in someone's gut." Solo rolled his eyes.

Finn slowly crept to the other wall, followed by the rest of us. Across the room was a large, metal door; through it's window, I could see racks and rows of different weapons. Being a natural rebel, it was a sight for sore eyes, and I was anxious to get my hands on it all.

"Well hello beautiful..." I mumbled, unable to hide the excitement on my face.

Solo chuckled. "She sounds more like me than my own son." he said.

"Ok." Finn said, ignoring our comments. "First things first, we need some better weapons..." He gestured towards Chewbacca's crossbow, "... no offense. Then we need to get the shields deactivated on the base. The rebel squadrons will be coming in pretty soon, and they won't be able to deal any damage if we don't get those shields down first."

As Finn continued to describe his plan, my attention was locked on someone else. A chrome-clad Stormtrooper marched down the halls towards the weapons room. Their armor revealed their elevated status, along with the cape that draped over their shoulders. Granted, I had no idea who they were - I hadn't seen them on the base, despite having wandered almost the entire thing.

I tapped Finn on the arm. "That might be our ticket to the artillery room." I whispered.

"Perfect!" he said. "Alright - Solo, you cut them off by the door - just grab their attention for a second. I'll come up behind with Chewie, and then- "

Before he could finish, we heard a loud, animalistic cry, followed by a crash. Through the corridor, Chewbacca had thrown himself on top of the high-ranking officer - despite their attempts to throw him off, his weight held them in place. He looked back at us and gave a victorious yell.

"You idiot!" Finn said, exasperated. "You could have blown our cover!"

Solo pushed past Finn. "He is an idiot, don't get me wrong. But at least his heart's in the right place."

Chewbacca let out a defiant cry.

"Oh- I'm sorry, your highness, thank you very much for taking the initiative in this."

Chewbacca pulled the officer back up on their feet, and held their arms securely. Finn approached them and glared angrily through their helmet. "We need access to the artillery room."

"And what makes you think that I would give a band of fleas such intel?" she said calmly.

"Huh." I stared right through her helmet. "Never thought the First Order would give such a high rank to a woman, given how they treat them."

She turned her head towards me. "For your information, I earned my rank. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's interest in my skill had nothing to do with my promotion."

"'For your information', bitch," I held my blaster under her chin, "... Kylo Ren doesn't give a shit about you. He doesn't give a shit about who's behind that helmet. All he cares about his himself. So stop pretending that you're the favorite one here and give us the code to the damn room."

For a moment, she stared back at me. "You're right..." she finally said. "As I recall it, you were his favorite, actually."

My cheeks grew hot from her remark. Angry, I hit her across the side of her helmet with the end of my blaster. She recoiled a bit, and her chrome exterior now had a scratch across it from my gun. Han grabbed me by the arms and pulled me away as I tried to slug her once more.

"Calm down, feisty!" he spun me around and stared at me in the eyes. "We need this thing alive, remember?"

Chewbacca growled at Solo, pointing at me.

Han sighed. "I don't know what she meant, and I don't care, ok? This chick has been helping us long enough through the base, so I'm counting on her as our way out."

Finn spoke up. "What did she mean, you're Kylo Ren's favorite?" he gave me a suspicious look.

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" the officer spoke again. "For a while now, she's become his pet. He's been keeping her in his chambers and providing protection for her. He even fought my general to keep her out of harm's way. I don't know what information she gave him to change him into her protector, thought it must have been important."

"I didn't give him any information," I said angrily. "... he said he- well, it doesn't matter what he said, I didn't make him do anything."

"Sorry girl, but it does matter." Solo looked me in the eyes again. "What did he say to you?"

My cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. I felt like a child being reprimanded for doing something I shouldn't have. Is he really going to make me say it? "He said... he said he loved me." I mumbled quietly.

"Huh?" Finn said.

"He said he loved me!" I responded, a little louder than I wanted to.

Solo now had a look of disbelief on his face. "And you believed him?! You gullible sack of scrap metal- "

"Are you kidding me?!" Finn said, and looked like he might vomit.

"Look, I get it, it's stupid!" I shouted. "You don't understand how dumb I feel for falling for it! I think he was controlling my mind with that dumb force shit, that's why I believed him!"

Solo ran a hand over his face. "Oh my god, kids these days..."

"- but I swear, I didn't tell him anything! I didn't give him information, I didn't trade anything for protection... he just, sort of did it. All by himself."

"Ok, look here, kid." He looked back at me, serious once again. "I don't care what happened. You seem alright to me, and like you've got your senses back. You've helped us so far, so I'll trust you. But so help me, if you step one foot out of line- "

"I swear, I won't."

"- you're going to be his dinner." He pointed to Chewbacca, who growled in agreement. "And it's been at least four hours since he's eaten, so he's hungry."

I looked at Chewbacca, who gave me a rather toothy, yellow grin. "I promise, I won't."

Solo nodded, satisfied with my answer. "Good. Now, what's it gonna take to get you to open the artillery room for us?" He looked at the officer.

Finn thought for a moment, before answering confidently. "I know where the trash compacter is."

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

After upgrading our weapons, Finn, Chewie, Solo and I continued to sneak around the corridors. Finn kept mentioning the "Rey" that he was hoping to find, which made me wonder why everyone in the galaxy was searching for this girl. Solo and Chewie continued to mumble passive aggressive remarks to each other, despite Finn's shushing. I followed closely behind them all, still fuming about Kylo Ren's lies and the officer's remarks. My emotions were a jumbled mess from being pushed away for so long, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep them at bay.

Eventually, we had found Rey (after nearly slamming into her when turning corners). She was the girl I had seen earlier, and was much less threatening than I had assumed. Although I couldn't tell why she was so important to the First Order, I decided not to question her origin and intentions. She seemed trustworthy enough, and it was evident that Kylo Ren had traumatized her enough as well.

Upon seeing each other, she and Finn had embraced for a while, while he mumbled apologies to her and she cried. I stood there in silence, awkwardly watching and wondering how long they had been apart. Chewie stood next to me and grumbled impatiently in the silence, to which we then continued our journey through the base. At some point, amidst the chaos and commotion of personnel running around the base, fighting whatever was attacking them, Han Solo had separated from us. Chewie told us (translation provided by Rey) not to worry - that he could handle himself.

Finally, we arrived at a large, dark tunnel that ran deep into the ground - so much so that it was impossible to see the bottom. We carefully made our way across the thin platforms and bridges, making sure to avoid any of the Stormtroopers or officers below.

"Where are we headed?" I asked quietly.

"Out." Finn replied. "The Resistance is planning on blowing up the entire planet, so we need to get out of here fast."

"The Resistance is here?!" I said in disbelief. I wondered if Kiera and Delmi were there too. For their own sake, and so I had a chance to beg their forgiveness later, I hoped they weren't. "Do you know how much time we have?"

"Not long. Hopefully we can get back to the Falcon in time."

"Look!" Rey cried out, and pointed to a platform below us.

Upon peering over the ledge, my breath caught in my throat. Han Solo was standing on a bridge, right in front of Kylo Ren. My heart stopped at how close they were to each other.

"What is he doing?" I said, leaning over the railing to get a better look. Kylo Ren's body was shaking and his shoulders slumped, and with every word he said, Solo's lip would tremble. My intuition was telling me that, whatever was happening down there, it wasn't going to end well.

Rey furrowed her brow. "Is he reconciling to his father?" she asked.

Like hell he is... "We need to get him away from Kylo..." I said sharply.

"But it looks like Solo might have finally knocked some sense into that kid!" Finn was staring anxiously at the scene below. "Is... is he crying? What a big baby- "

"He's not really crying!" I said, holding my blaster into position. "He's faking it, that son of a bitch!!"

"Hey, watch it- "

The sound of my blaster firing drowned out Finn's concerned voice. I never let my weapon down until I made sure it hit its mark - right in the back of Kylo Ren's leg.

Even from the distance, I could hear his anguished cry as he keeled over. Solo looked up at us with shock and anger. He was obviously shouting in wrath, although none of us could make out what he was saying.

"What the hell did you do?!" Finn shouted, and snatched my blaster before I could fire again. "Are you crazy?!"

"I may have just saved Solo's life! That boy is a liar who would sell his own soul to get what he wants, and you can't trust a damn thing he does!!"

"Or you could have killed him!!" he shouted back.

"She's right." Rey chimed in, still watching the scene below. "He won't change. We need to get Solo out- "

Before she could finish, the sound of a lightsaber slashing echoed through the hall. We looked back to Kylo Ren and Han Solo on the platform; Kylo's lightsaber was buried deep into Solo's abdomen.

"NO!!" Finn shouted. Rey gasped in shock, followed by an anguished cry from Chewbacca.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Kylo Ren throw Solo over the edge of the platform. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach as he disappeared into the gaping hole below. I was frozen in shock. "God, no, no no..." I muttered the words over and over, hoping it was a dream.

"He's gone..." Rey said shakily. "Solo, he's gone. Oh my god, Leia..."

Kylo Ren looked up at us, before locking eyes with Rey. If he could have had any more hatred on his face, he did. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber tightly, as if he were going to throw it.

"Go, go!!" Finn directed Rey away from the ledge as fast as he could. Chewie and I continued to stand there in shock, staring down at Kylo Ren. He now stared back at me, somewhat shocked.

How did you get here?! His words were full of rage and resentment. I could feel him trying to dig into my mind again; that same, painful scraping from before, when he had tried to interrogate me. Yet, I didn't succumb to the pain. Instead, I was able to feel his emotions. Leaking through the wrath on the surface were sadness, regret, and pain of his own.

"Why?!" I leaned over the railing and screamed at him. "He was your father, you bastard!!"

He glared up at me, furious that I could feel his emotions. Come here, NOW.

The pull was stronger now - I was fighting the urge to obey his command, and it was harder than ever before. I closed my eyes and focused: don't do it, don't listen to him, think of something else. I directed my attention to my hands, gripping the railing as hard as they could.

"What's wrong with you?!" Finn's shout snapped me back to reality. He ran towards me, Rey close behind. "We need to go, now!!" He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the edge.

Chewbacca began firing his blaster at whomever he could and yelled in rage. I took one last look at him - although he was beastly, I could see the pain in his expression. He was fuming and hurt that he had just lost his life-long partner, and that it was to the man's own son. He disappeared behind the walls of the room, his cries echoing, as we fled the scene.

Finn led us outside the dark and sleek interior of Starkiller Base. When I stepped out into the snow, my eyes forced themselves shut; the world around me was so white, from the snow that completely covered the planet, to the cloudy sky above. I hadn't seen such a bright setting in ages, and it was painful to look at. I followed closely behind Finn and Rey, trying to focus on their footprints ahead of me as I fought to keep my eyes open. Above us, I could hear the sounds of X-Wing and TIE Fighters firing at each other. Debris from destroyed space crafts rained from the sky, nearly hitting us as we continued to run.

Eventually, we entered into the woods. The sky was blocked out by the towering evergreens around us, but the snow still fell heavy. I could hear Finn's and Rey's strained breaths, as well as my own pounding heartbeat, now that the commotion was well behind us.

"Wait!" Rey shouted, slowing to a stop. She put her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath.

"What is it?" Finn stopped next to her, concerned.

Rey took some deep breaths before looking back at Finn and me. Her face was covered in tears and sweat and her hair was a mess. "Where are we going?"

Finn looked around: although he knew where the fight was going on behind us, there was no other indication that we were heading towards safety. Or, furthermore, if there even was such a thing. The sky was growing darker with each second, making it even more difficult to tell what direction to go in.

"I'm not sure," he finally said, "... but we just need to get away from the fight. We need to get you back to the Resistance fleet."

"And what about Han Solo?!" I said angrily. "We're not going to talk about what just happened? That his own son just killed him, and that we had the chance to stop him? But we didn't?!"

Finn sighed. "We don't have the time for that right now, if you hadn't noticed! And there was nothing we could do!"

"There was!!" I stood firmly in front of Finn, staring at him with anger. "I tried to save Solo and you stopped me! I could have killed Kylo Ren that moment, but you wouldn't let me!"

"You had plenty of chances to kill him!!" He matched my volume. "You pranced around with him for who knows how long, and you didn't do a damn thing! You're not any better than me, or even him!! Why didn't you kill him, huh?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Why didn't I kill him? There were so many chances I could have taken, why didn't I even think about it?

"Face it, you've become one of them, haven't you?!" He continued.

"Fuck off!!" I screamed as I tried to slug him across the face. Finn grabbed my arms and tried to fight back, although I held my stance firmly and continued to try and punch him.

"Stop it you two!!" Rey shouted.

We both looked at her. She was standing straight, her hands balled into fists, and a look of frustration hanging from her face. "What happened was awful, and I don't know what to tell Leia. But we'll have time to discuss it later. We need to get out of here, stop wasting your time and your energy being idiots!"

Finn and I looked at each other, and instantly I felt foolish. I quickly moved away from him, and he let go of my arms. We both stared in opposite directions of each other.

I understood what this was - for the first time in a long time, I was finally free of Kylo Ren. Now, all of the emotions that had been pushed back were rising up, more intense than ever. I had to control this, before I couldn't. I didn't want to be like Kylo Ren, who didn't care where his anger directed him.

"Ok." Finn broke the silence. "So what now?"

Rey looked around her, as if an answer would pop up out of the snow. "I don't know. Just keep heading away from the center of the base?"

I nodded in agreement. "That sounds good. We should be safe for a little bit - I can't hear him right now."

Rey and Finn both looked at me in astonishment. "What?" they both said.

I froze. Shit! Panicking, I frantically searched for an explanation. "Wh- uhh... y- you don't hear him too?"

"Hell no!" Finn stared at me like I was a creature he'd just discovered. "What do you mean, 'hear him' ?"

What now, what now, what now... "I, uhh, sometimes I hear him, like he's speaking to me. Directly. But, it's... it's in my head. But I hear his voice, just... in my... head."

They continued to look at me in shock. I shifted my weight in the uncomfortable silence. Stupid! Why the hell did you say that? What's wrong with you?!

"How?" Rey finally said.

I quickly shrugged. "I don't know, it just happens. He can hear me, too."

"What?!"

I slapped my forehead and sighed. You fucking idiot!! "I mean, he reads my thoughts! Erhm, but not all of them. I've been getting better at blocking him out."

"Oh, so you've been practicing with him, have you?!" Finn crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a suspicious look. Rey continued to hang her jaw in disbelief.

"No! No, that's not what I meant, just- "

Suddenly, Rey was launched into the air, screaming as she collided with the tree behind me. She was instantly knocked out as her head hit the trunk.

"Rey!!" Finn cried out, rushing towards her as she fell to the ground. I began to follow him as well - when I heard it.

Come.

I froze, fear rushing through my body. He was close. Kylo Ren was close to us. I had to get as far away from him as I possibly could.

"No..." I answered, searching for an escape. I let my feet carry me in a random direction as I tried to find any sanctuary from the situation.

Finn looked back at me desperately. "I need you to help me get her out of here!"

"I'm sorry..." the words fell out of my mouth, barely a whisper. "I can't stay here, he knows I'm here- "

"Of course he knows!" Fin shouted angrily. "He knows we're all here! We're all in deep water, not just you! If you run away now, you only put yourself in more danger, or you abandon your friends to die. Is that what you want?!"

Finn's words quickly sank into my brain. Of course I didn't want that. Just like I didn't want to leave Delmi and Kiera behind. I didn't mean to abandon them, I was just... running away. Saving myself. Finally admitting this to myself made tears flow from my eyes. I never even thought how leaving them behind would affect them, not just my own self. How could I have done that, and truly called myself their friend? "Oh my god..."

"Look, I almost ran away too." Finn said. "And it didn't just affect me, it affected Rey. I let my fear put my friends in danger - I was a coward."

"I'm not a coward." my voice shook as I spoke, more to myself than Finn. Although I knew the words were a lie.

"Then help me help her. So we can all get each other to safety." he pleaded. "If you really aren't a coward, you won't leave her behind."

I looked at Rey, still unconscious in the snow. She needs both our help. Don't abandon them again. Don't abandon Kiera and Delmi.

"Ok." I said, still shaking. I knelt down next to him. "What do we do?"

Finn searched his mind for a plan. "Chewie should be getting help... we just need to keep- "

He was cut off mid sentence by a stone colliding with his head. He was knocked back into the snow, right next to Rey.

"FINN!" I cried, dropping next to him. There was a small trail of blood running down from his forehead, although not too much; he was just unconscious, but that wasn't good either. I scanned the woods around us, searching for Kylo Ren. Strangely, the trees were the only things surrounding the area. He was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell?" I whispered, still in shock. I looked at the stone on the ground, just a few feet from me. It was smooth and glossy - too artificial to have been lying around in the woods. So where did it come from? And further, stones didn't just fly around for no good reason. It was Kylo Ren, it had to be.

I shook my head, clearing the panic from my mind. I had time to get Rey and Finn to safety. And right now, that mattered more than myself.

I quickly spotted two fallen trees, one leaning against another. It made a small shelter against the wind, and anyone who may have been coming from behind us. I scooped up Rey into my arms and carried her behind the trees. She was lighter than I had expected, and barely made a dent in the snow. Finn, on the other hand... I resorted to dragging him by his arms, and struggled to throw him over the two trunks. He landed heavily on his side, his head resting in the snow.

Come here.

A chill ran down my spine. It was him. The voice was calm and gentle, but it was him. Fear quickly flooded my veins and my heart pounded. How long has he been here?

Trust me.

"Don't you fucking dare..." I whispered, anger building in my chest. "Don't you dare think that after everything you did- "

I kept you alive. I spared you. I gave you a chance no one else had. You should be thanking me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew he was lying, it was obvious now. Yet there was still a part of me, an innocent, gullible part, that thought he was right. And I couldn't drown out that thought.

You're tired. You need to rest.

"No!" I shouted, sinking to the ground. I buried my head in my knees and held my ears shut, trying to block out any thought, any lingering of him.

I know you.

"You don't know shit about me!!"

Come here.

His voice resonated throughout my head. I couldn't hear the wind anymore, I couldn't hear my own heartbeat... it was just those two words, over and over again, beckoning me to move towards Kylo Ren.

"STOP IT!!" I screamed. "Get out of my head!! Just get out!!"

Come here.

"No!" I shouted again. "I won't! Stay away from me, stay out of my head!!" I clawed at my head in attempt to distract myself from his words. They were oddly alluring to me. Instead of them being angry and violent, they were gentle. Almost as if he was cooing at me. I knew it was all a trick, but my mind was used to the softness of his voice. I was so tired, so weak, and so desperate, and the sound of his words were so enticing.

Snap out of it!! I thought to myself. Whether the words were kind or not, this was Kylo Ren; the man who manipulated everyone and lied about everything. I shouldn't have been interested in anything that had to do with him. Yet, even as I mentally screamed at my weak will, I continued to feel the want to get up and go to him.

Eventually, I couldn't resist the urge.

"I'm not crazy..." I mumbled, pushing myself off of the ground and making my way to him. I didn't know why, but I didn't bother to question it.

He was standing in front of me - where he came from, I had no idea. Upon seeing me, he removed his helmet and dropped it in the snow. His lightsaber was ready at hand, glowing menacingly against the white of the forest surrounding us. His expression was calm, though I could see a hint of anger and frustration in his eyes. I stopped a few feet away and stared at him.

"I'm not insane." I repeated - like a broken record.

"Do you actually think that?" he spat, his voice shaking in anger. "Can you even think for yourself anymore, after what I've done to you?"

What does that even mean? I thought, and Kylo Ren heard me.

"Would you believe me if I had told you that you haven't acted of your own free will since the day you got here?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't answer, I couldn't even make any facial expression to show my pain. But the inside of my head was screaming with agony, at his words and at his hold on my mind.

"Keeping you in that cell," he continued, "that was just the beginning of breaking you down. I knew your will was too strong to succumb to physical pain, and may have only gotten stronger through the torture. So I waited - it wasn't easy, and you know I'm not a man of patience. But I could see that leaving you alone in that cell was destroying your sanity. You became desperate for any sort of comfort or consolation, that it didn't matter from whom it came. Naturally, I took the opportunity, right when you had told me you had given up. You were at your weakest point, and I was able to control your emotions without you ever knowing it. I made you feel safe, at ease... and because your will was so broken, so defeated... it was simple, almost too easy, to make you think and do what I wanted. I could make you believe anything, trust anything, feel anything, all with a small thought of my own."

"If you could do all that," I said, trembling, "...if I was so broken, then why did you drag it out so long? Why didn't you just get the information you wanted and kill me?"

He didn't answer right away, as he calculated his answer. "Simple boredom." he replied. "Which was my mistake, of course. There's nothing to do on this base besides giving and taking orders. When I realized that I had created such a puppet out of you, I decided to have fun with it. Although I believe this attack could have been long avoided had I just retrieved the location of the base and disposed of you."

My brain was hazy under his trance. Each word he spoke made me think of when I had trusted him, when I had felt comfortable around him. But the memories were sour now, and tainted with the realization that it was all a game. "You..." I began as I glared into his eyes, to which he seemed intimidated. "You are nothing but weak, and you know it."

"Quiet!!" he cried, bringing his lightsaber up to my neck with a menacing expression. "You've been lied to since the moment you got here! You can't possibly know what I am!!"

"I saw what you were moments ago!" I shouted back at him, ignoring the lightsaber at my neck. "You're a monster, and a murderer! But more than that, you're the rotten bastard, a disgraceful, son-of-a-bitch- "

"I SAID QUIET!!" he growled.

"- lazy and immature coward!!"

"ENOUGH!!" Kylo Ren drew back his lightsaber and slashed it across my torso. I collapsed against the tree behind me, though he used the force to keep me standing up. I seethed and bit my tongue as I stared at the new mark on my stomach; it didn't cut through me, but it left a long stripe, stretching from one side to the other.

I looked back at him. "Just kill me!!" I screamed angrily. "You've stated your intentions, and you've shown me how I'm not a piece in this game anymore - so just kill me for god's sake!!"

Kylo Ren clenched his jaw, still fuming. "You're not going to bother asking why I'm explaining all of this to you?!"

"I couldn't give a fuck about you or what you have to say!"

He ignored me. "I'm telling you this now because, well... because I couldn't tell anyone else what I was doing to you. I've kept our secret for months, lest anyone find out the fact that I was just having fun. And as you should know, any type of isolation - whether it be keeping a secret, or not being able to speak to anyone but my own conscious - it's a wretched feeling. So, that is why I am explaining my plan to you. It doesn't matter if you know, since I'm going to kill you."

But-

"But what?" he sneered. "Did you really think I felt affection towards you? Did you honestly think I was telling the truth?" he spat the word out, as if it had tasted sour. "I must have been doing a very good job of it, then, since even now, you still believe I had feelings for you. That, or you must be terribly dense." he walked to my side, disappearing from my vision. "Think to yourself - why would I ever admire you? Why would I be so infatuated with such an insignificant person? You mean nothing to me, and you never have. Nor will you ever."

He allowed me to speak, only to answer him. "You said that I entranced you. That you were intrigued by my resilience to the force. You said - you said you loved me." I felt stupid and ashamed repeating his words - they were obviously lies. It was so damn clear now, it made me want to vomit. And I had been so blind to believe that they were true. It was sickening to know that I had ever accepted them to be real. It made me realize how weak I was, how gullible I had been.

"Not all of that is a lie." He stated, as I got back up on my feet. "I was interested in you. You had the strongest willpower of the pilots in your squadron. Possibly, of all the pilots I have come across. I was confused in how you were able to remain reserved under the force. But I never loved you." he chuckled to himself. "It's funny to think that you believed me when I said that. All it took were a few lies, and I was able to control you, little by little."

He sighed, turning to look me in the eyes. "It is, however, disheartening, to think that all this work I put into you still resulted in nothing. I had hoped that in a few weeks you would have revealed the location of the Resistance Base, but then they had to come and initiate an attack. I wasn't able to fight them off and keep you under my control. Even the most experienced Jedi can't control that much at once."

Anger welled up in my chest, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch, scratch, kick, do whatever I could to injure Kylo. However, the restraint holding me back from hurting him only fueled my anger, which led to tears falling down my cheeks. Everything he was saying was so painful, but now that I knew, I wasn't shocked by any of it. It was something I had expected from so wicked a person, yet every second of listening to him speak was torture.

"You think this, right now, is torture." he said. "But wait until I finally kill you."

This caught me off guard; I chuckled to myself a bit. "You know what? I've been waiting for it for weeks." I said with a sneer. I knew he hated that, and I didn't care. For the first time in a long time, I felt liberated. Kylo Ren was about to kill me. I was going to die - death was right in front of me, shrouded in black and angry that I had managed to escape his grasp more than once. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't giving up, either... I just felt at peace.

But of course, he wasn't going to let me have that. "I will thoroughly enjoy this, my dear."

As he said this, he pushed the cross hair of his lightsaber into my abdomen. A fierce heat flowed violently from the lightsaber and into the rest of my body, and my muscles twitched and seized instinctively from the wound. Even though I was still under his grasp on my mind, I stuttered and shook in pain. Tears began to fall harder, and I could feel the lightsaber cauterizing as quickly as it tore through my skin.. It was warm, but it only made the pain worse as time went on. My breath was heavy and cold, and my heartbeat had quickened drastically. I felt the pain; I knew it was pain, and it made me want to scream and writhe in agony. But all I could do was stand there and stare Kylo in the eyes, until he either released my mind from his grip, or finally killed me. And I was sure it would be the latter.

Fear

But I wasn't afraid.

Father. Han Solo.

These images and thoughts in my mind weren't my own...

Pain

These were his thoughts. Kylo Ren's thoughts. Why could I hear them? Why were they so loud in my head?

I can't do this.

I looked at him in the eyes. Does he know I can hear him? I thought. The pain from the lightsaber subsided as I continued to listen to his thoughts.

Suddenly, I noticed his expression change; he seemed angry, as if I had insulted him. His eyes widened, and leaned in closer to my face. "You will not break me!!" he spat.

The next words that slipped from my mouth... I'm not sure where they came from. I can't even say that they were my own.

"I won't be the one to break you, Ben."

Upon hearing me speak, he wrapped his hand around my throat and began to choke me. The lack of oxygen was excruciating, however, I continued to be numb to the pain.

"What did you say?" he growled.

I struggled against his grip, trying to pry away his fingers with my own. I attempted to answer him, but his hand only tightened around my neck with each gasp.

Suddenly, a blue light raced past my head. Kylo was forcefully knocked to the ground, tearing his lightsaber away from my side. I could feel the force being pulled from my head, and almost instantly, pain replaced it. I fell backwards into the snow, screaming in anguish from the pain in my abdomen. My muscles convulsed involuntarily, my head seared with pain - it was all so much at once. Only moments before, Kylo was holding me back from reacting to the wound, and now that he was gone, all I could feel was the searing heat in my side..

I weakly pushed myself up against a tree, trying to cover the wound with my hands. The blood was almost invisible on my dark clothing, but I could see the snow beneath me becoming redder and larger. My head was swimming with dizziness and I began to see spots. I could faintly hear the sound of lightsabers clashing together, and Kylo's distant shouts.

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africahip34 · 3 years

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Next Caller Pt 33

A deal was had and on your way back Thorin slipped into the room next to yours to use their shower and thankfully with the heavy duty hair dryer mounted up combing out your curls. Back into your jeans and a fresh shirt and underwear you hopped into your socks, at the door opening you looked up at Thorin in his fresh set of clothes with hair and beard primped perfectly. “Did I do anything weird? He didn’t make me bark or anything?”

Smirking at you he replied, “No, your hand started typing though.”

“Bet that was interesting.” You said as he walked around you to add his suit to join yours in the bath hanging from the washrag bar to dry.

“I am glad you feel better. Frerin picked a film, did you want to join them?”

“Sure.”

An actual theater was what you had walked into and with the blanket you grabbed on the way in seats were taken. Dinner again found you with the elders and desserts on the balcony came with a box of pictures brought to you luring a few glances to your friends nearby. Though the pictures actually had you more in awe of what lands they had to offer instead of their actual goal of finding where you would want to get married. All the same your interest only hinted to them and others, including Thorin, that you might actually be getting wedding planning fever.

Again though you found yourself in the same bed sitting up with your arms on the blanket pooled in your lap, on the bed next to you he asked, “Can’t sleep?”

“Last time I slept I ended up forcing you to move in with me.”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“I highly doubt your family would take well to that.”

“It’s only going to get colder.”

“Hard not to believe that wasn’t done on purpose.”

“You and me both, come on.”

“Fine, but if we end up having to be married at dawn it’s on your head.” Out of bed you slid bringing your comforter with you that you flicked out over his bed then eased into the space he made for you by lifting up the covers. In your stretching turn over you shut off the lights and settled down facing your own bed, over you he lowered his arm that crept down around your side. “Are they really expecting me to pick a location for a reception?”

“Don’t worry about that, Frerin is making sure they get misplaced.”

“The guys won’t miss you moving out?”

“They won’t be far, Frerin picked a house between yours and Dwalin. Paid it off and there’s only three months left on the lease giving them time to plan.”

“Didn’t you just paint? Why would he move so soon after?”

“He caught the house bug, and the landlord likes the paint, should help to sell quicker.”

“Insane,”

“Little bit.”

“Have you told Roac yet?”

“No, couldn’t spot him earlier, no doubt singing Dot’s praises to his family. He’ll be thrilled, don’t-,”

“Worry?” you asked then yawned making him smirk in your settling into the bed right after, almost instantly falling asleep tugging him right along with you encouraging his slumbering curl around your body.

Vili again was sent to fetch you, though this time with you as pillow to the Dwarf nuzzling his head into your back with arms tucked around you tightly. Out of your warm cocoon you eased nearly falling out of the small bed laughing at Thorin’s fall when he tried to roll back allowing you space. Out of the mess of covers he popped and grabbed his shirt laying on top of his suitcase and the pair of you joined the golden haired chuckling Dwarf leading the way to food. A close eyed try to rub your eyes had him smirking to himself at your bump into his back on a stop to allow another Dwarf couple out of their hall first.

Food was gathered and again with full plates Thorin added tea to the mix and sat down starting with, “I think we should discuss rent and the finer details before I were to move in.” The bold topic brought up in front of his clan a clear declaration that you had accepted the compromise of cohabitation from your beard tugging night. A chance for him in front of his clan to prove his intentions openly and for them to weigh how easy a task you were going to make this on him. Excitedly Mal and the boys especially chewed on their bacon and toast eager to see how this would go.

“Ok.” You replied and in slicing another bite of your breakfast wondering why he was bringing this up now unaware of Balin’s phone out so he could take notes.

“I would like to pay half.”

“Half? I mean, we’d be splitting in a sense but isn’t that a bit steep compared to your place now splitting four ways?”

Fili and Kili said, “We don’t pay rent,” you looked at them and Fili said, “It’s a conditional term contract for our stay with Uncles. Based on schooling and work. We sort of pay into a fund from our wages at work each month and complete various clan requirements before we’ve earned the right to pay rent fully.”

Blinking through that confusing jumble you looked to Thorin who said, “I assure you with our utilities and such it would be roughly the same amount each month.”

“Wouldn’t that be a huge chunk of your wages? I mean how much, do you even get a check from the shop?” He smirked as you added, “I don’t mean to be rude it’s just a bit puzzling to me how that works.”

“We don’t get paychecks per se, but annually we do make roughly 180k, though this year looks as we might be making closer to 220.”

“And that’s split three ways?” He nodded and you said, “But you can’t pay rent with that, can you?”

Weakly he chuckled, “That is our profits, post payroll and expenses. I have more than enough funds to cover rent. Plus enough to aid in furnishing the house.”

You shook your head, “Wouldn’t that be embezzling?” Mal took a large mouthful to keep from making any sounds while Dis smirked at your verbal jab.

Thorin’s brows inched up and Dwalin chuckled out, “Embezzling,”

You sigh, “That’s not, what I mean is that’s company money you can’t go paying rent or buying furniture with that.”

Half amused with how you were challenging him on this, in the most possibly romantic way for Dwarves, through contract terms, “How is that?”

“Ok, let’s say you go to work one day and the roof has collapsed.” His brow inched up seeing how in depth you were going on this, focusing on home safety and that of his company as well, “As co owner you are up for a third of the costs. Now if you go buying things with that money then what happens to those two, they have babies. No offense but babies can eat money like a black hole.” The pair chuckled again as Dis’ grin settled as you continued your argument. “Plus while you rebuild you still have to cover the rent, the partial wages and medical for your employees-,”

Thorin, “Oh, we don’t have medical yet.”

Dwalin, “We have a family friend we send them to though for good deals.”

Balin, “We are working on that.”

Thorin said, “I have other forms of income, investments that pay monthly dividends,”

“Like the off the stock market? Isn’t that a bit changeable?”

“Actually it’s a rugby team but I have mentioned my trust before and we also have a sort of deal with a taxi service that feeds past our shop that can be used as a pick up location that we get funds from, which could also be lumped into the work funds. But I assure you that all my investments are not risk based and if you would prefer I use my trust to pay the rent I wouldn’t object for your comfort in the deal.”

Diaa asked, “You’ve discussed your trust before?”

In a glance at her you said, “When I got the trust from my father’s inheritance. To give me ideas on what to do with it.”

Again he said in an assuring tone, “We are in agreement then? I pay half the rent with work funds not to be touched for recreational use.”

“It’s your money-,”

“I understand fully, I merely mean in terms of purchases and costs for the house?”

“Alright, half, no work funds.”

“Good, and since you barely create any waste I think it best until I adjust accordingly I pay the trash fees since you’ve been there and have barely filled a bag of trash.”

“I suppose that seems fair.”

He nodded, “Alright, now as far as the furnishings go I would like to buy the mattresses for your guest rooms,” your lips parted and he continued, “You know my family and there is no doubt they will pop up so I have a charge account with a top notch mattress company. At least consider for the beds you already have frames for, let me order those and pay them off and at a later date as the other frames are constructed we could discuss my adding those as well.”

“I-,”

“And I would also add the terms that if things were to go south and I was to move out anything that I have purchased for the home in a communal area would remain in the home. I wouldn’t be repossessing anything based on who purchased them, furthermore that would also go for any investments or business ventures before this deal is struck, with only any joint investments in the future to be discussed for possible division.”

Shifting your gaze for the moment to partially awed Mal wondering if this was more of a pre-nup than a roommates agreement you drew in a deep breath and met his eye again, “I’ll give you the mattresses but you are not just going to go through my list of what I’ve found or would want for the house and buy it all.”

With a nod he smirked and replied, “Agreed.” Beside him Balin noted the term and then he said, “Now for myself I am not adept at hand washing things so I would also put purchasing a washer and dryer up for discussion as well.”

You shrugged and said, “Sure. I’m not gonna force you to use my barrel system.”

“Good,” as you took another cautious bite of your meal he stated. “The dishes in the apartment can stay with Frerin and the boys though I do want to know what sort of appliances I would be able to bring?”

“Just no blenders,” Mal said drawing his eye seeing you were still chewing.

Dis said, “Yes, Jaqi did state her birds enjoy blending through her harvested fruit. Does not allow blenders.”

Thorin said looking at you, “Surely if I got one of those single cup ones that would be acceptable. I could easily hide it when I was through with it.”

“We could try it. I could always put a lock on the chilled pantry where I keep the fruit.”

“I’ll make sure to keep it locked up and if they do manage to find it I’ll clean up the mess and buy you as much fruit as you like until you can have more to eat from home.”

You nodded again, “Sounds fair.”

“Speaking of the greenhouse, I have a supply of herbs,”

“You’re asking if you could plant them?”

“Yes,” he said finally taking a second bite of his food after several minutes.

“I have that bare planter you can have if it’ll suit them. Not like I could bar you from planting your own buds and keep the whole thing to myself. Honestly, just un-Hobbit like.”

“I didn’t think you would refuse, still I would have to ask,” he replied with a smirk.

“I suppose next you would be assuming I would make you park outside as well?” His smirk deepened and you narrowed your gaze at him, “Hmm.”

Gloin stated, “If you need aid in adding his face to your hedger’s databank I would be glad to help.”

In a lean of your head you caught the excited gaze of one of the lead BomBairns, “Thorin mentioned painting his room.” Thorin smirked when he caught your eye again and you said, “You’ll have to pick how you want your bath decorated too. Haven’t gotten to it yet.”

After swallowing he nodded, “I will.” And he asked, “Was that a yes on the garage?”

Weakly you giggled and shifted your head to get your bangs out of your face, “Yes you can park your car in the garage, I have a spare clicker and I’ll even give you a set of keys to the house too if you need to make note of that.” He was starting to blush in the spreading grins of his family on how easily this was all settled and how sharply you had dug in that jointly the goal was to ensure business and home were to protected and thrive for the pair of you. Signs of a good future and partnership to come severely hinting that you did have intentions of seeking a future settled courtship in the near future.

Alone without a clan to aid in bartering and you had so surely defended yourself and reminded him that the future was not to be sacrificed just to pacify seeking to share your dwelling. Mal especially wondered how you had managed it, knowing fully she was baffled as to how she would barter for a future dwelling with the duo in the years to come once they all had sturdier roots to broach the discussion with their clans. Fully cleaned up you were on your way up to the room again to change while Thorin remained behind with his family and Mal eagerly trotted up to your side when her dishes were added to the cart.

“You have to tell me how you did that.”

Looking up at her you asked, “Did what? Eat breakfast? Was it just me or did that sound more like a prenup than a roommate agreement.”

Mal said, “That’s what a roommate agreement is.” You stopped and looked up at her, “Especially with courting or possibly courting pairs. Even Bilbo and Dwalin had theirs, took a couple days for them to hammer out what you managed over breakfast.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mumbled in Vanyar.

“You were amazing. So calm, so sure and the way you ensured his future income would not cross over into the clan business. Flawless.”

“It’s just common sense I can’t just take money from his business, and I didn’t mean to step on toes with my wording or to ask about his salary in front of everyone-,”

She patted your arm shaking her head, “No, no, that was the brilliant part. Clearly he knows about your finances and assured anything before the move that’s why he added the clause that before then everything is separate and nonnegotiable for splitting if the relationship dissolves. Clearly you have him eating out of your palm.”

“Really? Then why isn’t he here?” For a moment you paused then you asked, “He’s drafting the contract isn’t he?”

She nodded in a grin, “Yup.”

“Great.” You said shaking your head. Again she was off and changed into shorts and a t shirt you curiously wandered through the Palace searching for a quiet place.

Tucked in the back of a turn between wings you found an old music room with a lounge around it just off of the massive library. Shut off from the dozens milling by in search of the activity they wanted before you were snatched off to plan the wedding of the century you ironically were off planning a proposal.

From your satchel, now holding the sticker sheets you would pass out later, you pulled a notebook and sat sideways in a deep armchair crossing your legs. Using the arm as a desk to delve into the fabled proposal speech from Durin that would ultimately be turned down only building his adoration for his One’s doubts of being accepted soon causing all his people to rally and join in on the courting welcoming her fully. It was the ultimate proposal, one every Dam hoped for and here you were, a non Dam trying to match this. Though in a usual habit a song however would take the place after an overheard comment by the relentless King. Though in your twist on the tale Durin would fall to a dark sage’s influence and rallying his forces it would be Bunny to rescue him in a bloody unforgettable siege to free him. Of course ending with bloody and battered Durin teasing her, “You saved me.”

To which she responds, “You had my favorite pen. I was saving my Twiggimins.”

Sing song he teased back, “You saved me.”

“Entirely by chance.” The tale always luring out laughs from the soldiers listening.

Soft hums followed by your try to remember the notes you had imagined in that freighter you stole escaping from Ruun.

Verse by verse you wrote out the lyrics you couldn’t forget only to try and blend out the notes again. An eventual shift to the piano was how you were caught, and how an eager elder from the Firebeard clan, Dain’s great uncle, who had heard that you were here flew out specifically to see you again after having been on that island and freighter. A usually sullen Dwarf who all but lit up hearing the familiar tale and voices once again.

Following the out of place Firebeard Thorin and his siblings and closest cousins joined in on his search only to linger in the doorway seeing your shimmering self humming around the pen between your teeth with fingers working out a melody. Lowly the grinning Dwarf whispered in Khuzdul, “That’s Durin’s song of rejection.” Parting their lips only for a sneeze heard through the open doors behind the group to turn your head. In looking at the fiery haired Dwarf up front Dain readied an introduction only to see a bright smile from you, “Djinny Djannt!” Swinging your legs over the bench you giggled crossing the room to the Dwarf who met you halfway and scooped you into a tight hug. When you were on the ground again you giggled out, “Wow, last I saw you, you were my size. Who did you eat and are they still hunting you for it?”

Loudly he chuckled and guided you to the lounge where you sat in the sea of intrigued Durins. “I knew it was you. Had to be. I’d know that story and those voices anywhere.”

You giggled again and reaching for your bag you brought out a sheet you passed to him then passed out the rest. “They gave me 20 at the station.”

He chuckled and passed the sheet saying, “I already ordered a bundle, best keep it for them. Our whole troupe still listens diligently.”

Gorgo said, “Venture Productions is actually in the process of getting the first novel of the series published.”

He laughed again, “Well I cannot wait for it. And I will let you get back to tormenting Durin,” Making you giggle again and nod. Though he paused to chuckle again looking you over, “Must have been fate, a stranger on that island telling me tales of home. I told you I’d introduce you to a Durin one day, and now I find you in their clan hearth.” His hand patted his chest in a kind unspoken gesture meaning you were always in his heart and prayers.

Out he slipped with Dis guiding the others with her leaving Thorin and Gorgo, the latter who asked, “I wondered if I might be able to come by on Monday?”

You nodded and said, “Might be a bit crowded with the moving crew.” You looked to Thorin, “Did you want to borrow some of my empty chests?”

He nodded, “That might help, yes, Gran says our plane leaves at eleven.”

“Wow,”

He wet his lips then said, “Well, the storm that came through when we left won’t be clear for our landing till then. That way I suppose you could get a nap in before the flight.”

Gorgo asked haltingly, “Does it bother you to talk about Ruun?”

“Not really. Though it seems to bother others.”

She shrugged, “It’s just hard to imagine you there.”

Pointing to the door you said, “It wasn’t hell, it was an island. A dump in the middle of an ocean full of millions of stories. Every copy of banned and confiscated Dwarf books to fill a library.”

“Really? Like the ones in the Hogden Museum?”

“The very same.” Her head tilted slightly, “When we readied to take the ship we sailed home on me and him loaded up every discarded Troll trunk we could find. I still have a few. We dropped them off on their doorstep with a note,”

She finished your sentence, “Be kind.”

“Half sun damaged but between all the copies I’m certain they got a full copy of each. It’s only a prison if you do nothing.” In a glance at the door you asked, “Am I missing an event?”

Thorin shook his head, “No, he was curious to see you. We could swim if you like, the teens are out riding our goats.”

You nodded, “Always easier to remember on my own piano, its humming sort of fills it in somehow.”

Behind the closed door to your room you looked at Thorin once at your suitcase and as your fingertips tapped across it silently he turned to face you. “The wine sort of blurred things in Rohan, you asked me about Ruun, but, I’m not too certain on how far into it I got.”

In a hopefully soothing tone he replied, “You told me that was where you met the Countess. Pretty much where you became Bunny. I haven’t told anyone, I have teased to Dwalin in who you might have been voicing, but I would never betray your trust. The wine might have eased it out and I thought you might not have remembered so I was waiting for you to share that with me on your own.”

You nodded, “Good, sharing a house would make it hard to hide the songs and recordings and the weekend late night typing.”

“You told Gorgo?”

In a sigh you opened your suitcase, “It didn’t feel right, I mean I know her husband and family we’d run into each other and she’s been waiting so long for the book and, I didn’t want it to come out and for her to feel like I had lied to her all that time.”

“I get that,” he said on the way to his own suitcase. “Did you bring another wrap?”

You looked up at him, “No,”

“Ah,” he said turning from his bag to enter the bathroom and back out again, “Seems our suits and your wrap are being washed.” Opening his bag he said, “I know I have another in here.” Shifting his clothes he searched for the second suit only to smirk saying, “Found it.”

You giggled seeing him all but waving the tiny shorts over his head giddy that he found them, “You can change first then.”

For the few minutes it took for him to change you added your satchel to your suitcase and stared at your black and neon top and navy bottom set, when the door opened you just lifted the black pair and closed the bag. Stripped again you eyed the suit only for Thorn to smirk hearing you sigh, “So many straps.” The bottoms eased on simply and hugged you perfectly, though showing off a bit of your cheek no matter how you adjusted it if you wanted your butt crack to be covered. Over your head once you removed your bra you wiggled yourself into the single piece top, inching it around yourself your lips pursed in focus until the cups sat just right hoisting your cleavage with the crossing strips over your ribs. Turning around in the mirror you subtly shook your head feeling like you were fully on display without your wrap, a single stroke of your finger over the odd shaped birthmark in the center of your back.

Out you went holding your things and without looking up you could feel the wide eyed gaze scanning over you. Adding your things to your bag you said turning to face him, “It didn’t look so, hoisty, on the dummy.”

Shaking his head he fired back, “Not hoisty at all.” In the clearing of his throat he stepped back unconsciously flexing his upper body in allowing you to pass him once he reached the door he opened for you. Instantly however from his sweep over your curves his eyes honed in on the white battle ram silhouette right in the center of your back. The mark was small but distinct and all the way down he began to ramble on about what sort of washer and dryer you would want to distract himself.

“Washers, what are you looking for?”

Peering up at him you asked, “Me?” You shrugged, “Not a clue.”

“Which features did you want it to have?”

“I don’t know, big?”

“Big?”

“But not too big you can’t reach it. Like those double stacked ones, they kind of bother me. I keep thinking they would tip.”

“Ok, no doubles, what else?”

“I use a barrel, it’s mainly yours though, just pick.”

“This is serious, come on.”

“I am taking it seriously,” you said passing another group of pausing teens at the top of the stairs.

“But they’re communal, we have to pick together.”

“When would I use them? I have my barrel.”

“What about your sheets and pillows. Comforters take a long time to air dry. Especially for your guest sheets!”

Reaching over you patted his arm instantly catching his melting gaze at you almost making you blush in confusion then say, “Just, I don’t know, if it runs well and I guess doesn’t waste water?”

“Color?”

“They come in colors?”

“I’ll look through some variations and by lunch we can decide so I can have them over nighted.”

“Ok,” past the same lounge you walked and he saw Tili looking you over in her own similar two piece with crossing straps in deep gold. A subtle nod of Thorin’s head had her flashing a grin and coming over, and her joining you both had you grinning, “Hey.”

She grinned back, “Hey,”

Avoiding a planter your gaze dropped and Thorin leaned in to whisper to her, “Look at her back.”

In her eyes catching his they darted to you and in front of you she walked saying, “I love your suit,” reaching out to touch your arm in a circle around you only to see what had caught Thorin’s attention. In a ‘tell me I’m crazy’ gaze from him she subtly nodded back confirming you had his mark on your back and since he had looked up the meaning of your last name his inspection into pear blossoms hit home to him as it matched the bunch of white blossoms on the side of his hip.

Back to your side she walked only to join you in your walk to one of the long stretches of the pool that you walked into then got to doing some laps in the empty pool wondering where Thorin had gotten to. Though by the second lap you sank lower under the water when she had climbed out, once you reached the lazy river part you surfaced up next to a slow moving floatie with a familiar red braid dipping into the water. Resting your hands on the side of the floatie you kept inching closer creepily inching your cheek closer to hers wondering how close you could get before she noticed you.

The bright blue bikini showing off all she had to offer had the boys who had come to find her again falling into the pool. The splash of water across her had her eyes open and finally sensing someone was close to her had her turning her head with a shriek. Dipping underwater you swam underneath her to her other side instantly luring her wide eyed gaze to you only to scoff at you spraying a stream of water between your lips at her. “You’ve been around those owls too long.”

“Oh you love it.” Around you the boys surfaced and you grinned saying, “back to my laps, I’ll leave you to your beaus.” Winking at her and dipping under the water to swim away. Another lap however ended at the hand dipping down in your path. Upon surfacing you saw Thorin, and you swan to the wall asking, “Where’d you run off to?”

Shifting to his side he brought a laptop over showing you what he had been looking at, “What about teal? Dwalin mentioned your teal sewing cabinet in the living room.”

“Sure, ya, if it runs the best and you like it they look good.” Poking his bent knee his brows inched up, “Oh, and I can move the cabinet, since it’s a communal space, I only broke it out for the curtains.”

“You don’t have to. There should be plenty of space.”

Looking to the screen you said, “The teal looks nice.”

He nodded, after wetting his lips he asked, “So I have a question, in my closet I have this table, from my Gramp, on the Hobbit side that he made for me years before he passed, and I wanted to ask, you have the parlor open-,”

Right away you nodded, “Ya, I mean I have no clue about what to do with the room, so ya, since you say the family will be over, it could be like a card room, or, something-,”

The suggestion alone that it could be his touch to a room now centered around entertaining his family in your soon to be joint home split a grin across his face, “We do have game nights occasionally, and it would be a perfect room for entertaining.”

“I think in that sense then you should probably decorate it to how that would work. I mean, I’ve been over every other room it seems, it would be only fair to let you have a common area that you can have your touch on. Not that I wouldn’t be open to collaboration in the living room or dining room,”

“No I don’t think that, you have great taste, and yes we can work the spaces out together if you would like. A game room sounds great to start with.” He looked you over again and said, “I’ll order these and come join you.” In his rise to his feet you watched his path back to the table where he shared with Balin, whose laptop he was using, he spilled all the news of the game room spreading smiles on the faces of the toddler watching Dwarves there. A splash on your right however had you giggling and finding Frerin smirking after having taken his own decided way to confirm the mark on your back. His distracting swimming path zigzagging across the pool soon had Thorin joining you saying, “Rin, we are switching the parlor to a game room with Gramps’ table.”

Frerin smirked saying, “Nice.”

“What’s this I heard about you buying a house out of nowhere?”

Frerin chuckled, “Couldn’t help it, though of course I would have to ask your help in decorating the place, Sis.”

“Clearly you like different styles than me.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t still spectacular in designing a home. I’ve been gathering ideas and in a few days I’ll bring it over for your expert opinion.”

Lunch however was called for and pushing yourself up out of the water you walked with the pair hearing, “What’s on your back?” Sharply however Frerin had his arms around his nephews’ shoulders he promptly led away leaving you to glance at Mal who shrugged in return and walked closer tilting her own head at your mark.

“You have a ram on your back.” She stated matter of factly making you peer over your shoulder.

“Is that what it is? I keep getting different answers and I can’t ever get a clear look at it.”

Thorin asked, “What did you think it was?”

You glanced at him, “Last I heard from a doctor was it looked like, you know that illusion image with the candlestick with two faces?” he nodded, “That. Before that I got a lot of naked trees.” Lunch filled with questions of what touches you might like to add to the parlor for your own place in game night bled into a curious interest in the bonfire in the distance.

Downing your drink you went up to shower and change, and came back out again, barefoot with Thorin leading you into a full blown dance the returned teens had put on. Smirking fully at the Hobbits leading this next dance you caught Mal watching the same circle being drawn and at her pout that the boys didn’t know this dance you stepped in luring out her giggles.

An outstretched hand was met by hers and backwards you stepped and like the other leads in the dance back flipped into the circle landing to offer a hand for the partners guiding them into the weaving hopping dance. Twists, switching between giggle filled arm tunnels for others to pass through and even over in a few dramatic crouches the pairs would then break off again in a dizzying mess of bodies to the high paced tune. A whip of looped arms had her spinning again while you on your toes turned around her readying for your own finishing turn. A one legged pirouette had the partners resting on the raised legs of the leads in a rapid turn with arms still arched together with shrieks and excited giggles flooding the group. Down again they hopped to spin their leads before being dipped themselves for the giggling end to the song.

It had been so long since you had danced with anyone but pushing past the occasional deliriously tired times you joined Mal in her impatient dance moods in the break room at work, this was nice and leaning together in a giggling mess you ended the dance. Then somehow in a set of nudges you were now being lined up by Thorin for the next. With Fili up to try the next Hobbit sized dance with Mal. Keeping his hands on you wasn’t hard and wine wasn’t needed for you to be a flirtatious giggling mess for the oddly bashful and yet attentive partner who couldn’t take his eyes off you or stop smiling to save his life.

Dinner though came to spoil the fun. And again at the table you were promised another set of pictures to be copied and sent to you on a usb stick. Grating you ample time and clues as to how their Blue Mountain home was perfect for this supposed wedding you wondered just how much time ‘plenty’ allowed you before having to actually plan it and inform some key members of your party especially.

Separately you returned upstairs for your designated nap time and alone in your bed is where he found you, smirking to himself he fixed your cover higher over your shoulder and went to lay in his own bed behind you since he had no invitation to join you in yours. But sleep was short lived and post gentle nudge awake you were packing up to get ready for the eleven flight home again.

Pt 34

#Thorin x Reader OC #Fili/Kili x OC Mal #the hobbit #lotr

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crackimagines · 5 years

Text

Axe To Grind (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Byleth orders Annette to change classes from a Magic user to a Warrior.

Not wanting to back down from the challenge, Annette works hard to show that it can be done.

The results...are terrifying.

author’s note: I DIDN’T KNOW ANNETTE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A MAGE AND NOT A BRIGAND, I REGRET EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE

------

“Um...Professor?” Annette asked holding a paper, visibly confused.

“How can I help you, Annette?”

“Well...it’s what you wrote down. I’ve been trying to understand the reasoning, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Byleth had written down to change her goal to focus on her axe skills instead of her magic. This confused her to no end because she had studied at the school of sorcery to become a magic user, not a barbarian.

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ve been carefully looking at your skills. At the moment, our class has far too many magic users. Mercedes, Dorothea, Marianne, Linhardt, the list goes on really. I saw beforehand that you were training in axes as a means of self defense, but why not have you learn it as your main offense as well?”

“B-But, I’m not exactly the strongest girl around! I’m not like Ingrid!”

Byleth shook his head.

“No need to compare yourself to others Annette, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Trust me, with enough training you’ll be swinging around axes like they’re paper!”

Annette nodded, although she didn’t look too convinced.

“I-I’ll try my best, Professor.”

“That’s all I ask, Annette. Tell you what, we have a freeday right? I’ll personally help you with your training, does that sound good?”

“That sounds great, professor! Thanks!”

He smiled, and got out of his chair, following her out of the class.

“Good. Bring some papers for some practice questions for the exam, and a training ax around noon tomorrow.”

They both said goodbye, and Annette walked over to Mercedes who was waiting by a bench.

“Annette, how did it go?”

She sighed sitting down next to her.

“Professor Byleth is insistent that I use axes!. I have no idea either, do I look that physically strong to you, Mercie?!”

“Well, he has an eye for hidden talent. I didn’t know that I could learn other magic besides healing, yet here I am!”

That was true. Originally Mercedes was skeptical as soon as Byleth told her to max out her reasoning skill. Then just recently, Mercedes had destroyed an entire bandit camp with just a single spell that looked like a meteor had dropped onto them.

...And that wasn’t even her using the actual spell where she DID summon Meteors.

“I don’t know...As true as that is, I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to hold an axe properly. I can barely hold some boxes as it is!”

“Well, I say don’t worry about that! That will come second nature soon enough like magic. What I’m most concerned is your written portion...”

“For a warrior class? Hah, that can’t be any more complicated than magic! What, is one of the questions is ‘How to make the bad man stop moving’?”

Mercedes frowned and cleared her throat reciting one of the questions.

(joke is from this post)

“...Oh no.”

A week later...

After training and studying to become a warrior, Annette had finally succeeded in passing her exam. She was still unsure about it despite being able to wield an axe like a pro, so Byleth decided there was only one way to test her new skills.

On the battlefield.

“LET THE LESSON BEGIN!”

Byleth hit one of the bandits with the sword of the creator, sending him flying and instantly killing him.

They were sent on a job to defend a town from incoming bandits, and there was no better way to test out everyone’s skills. Of course, he’d make sure that everyone would be safe as well.

Mercedes had insisted that she test out one of her spells to warp an ally to her, and Byleth decided that’s when Annette would make her debut.

“Ingrid, Felix!” Byleth shouted.

“With me, we’re taking out the ones coming from the side!”

“Got it!” “Let’s go!”

Mercedes rushed forward with Dimitri and Sylvain, taking out the ones coming head on.

Once they cleared out everyone, they saw the leader walking forward with a massive lance, cackling.

“They sent a bunch of brats to us?! Here I thought I’d have a challenge!”

Dimitri and Felix backed off while Mercedes calmly walked forward.

“Surrender now without resistance, and your end will come painlessly!”

“Big talk for a girl like yourself! What exactly are YOU gonna do?!”

“So be it...Now, what was it that Byleth told me to say...?”

As several bandits began to rush her, she finally remembered.

“Ah yes! Ahem...

AWAKEN, MY QUIVERING ABS!”

All the bandits stopped where they were upon hearing that sentence, and Mercedes raised her hands into the air, casting rescue.

In the next second, what the Bandit leader saw stunned him in complete shock.

What stood before him, was the most jacked little girl he’d ever seen in his life.

(Annette) “Thanks, Mercie!~”

(Bandit) “WHAT THE F-”

Before he finished, Annette cleaved him in two with one swing from her killer axe, making the rest take a step back.

“What kind of twisted joke is this!?” One of them shouted. He shook his head and charged.

Annette turned towards him while taking out another axe, and chucking it forward at him. When the axe connected to him, he went flying several feet back from the sheer force of the impact.

The rest of the bandits dropped their weapons and ran away while Annette and Mercedes slowly walked up towards the Leader.

“Cowards! ALL OF YOU! RUNNING FROM A LITTLE GIRL?! I’LL SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE!”

He ran forward with his lance, impaling Annette through the stomach while she didn’t even bother to move.

“HAH GOTCHA-”

NO DAMAGE!

Popped up over her head, which made his smile quickly disappear. When he looked towards Annette, she was certainly bleeding from the spear coming through the other end of her stomach.

Whether or not she was feeling anything from it was up for debate.

The only thing it really seemed to do was piss her off.

Annette walked closer, as the spear went deeper and deeper, to the point where it was ready to fall off the other side with how close she was standing to him now.

Even though he was several feet taller than her, he felt ready to wet himself as soon as she made eye contact. She grabbed his face with her palm covering his head.

He felt the hand tighten, and then his skull began to follow. He tried hitting her several times, but nothing even made her flinch as blood started spurting from his head.

There was a loud crush as all his limbs stopped, and like a marionette who’s strings had been cut, fell to the floor in a jumbled mess.

The rest of the bandits had watched in horror, and soon as she turned around, they took that opportunity to run.

The bandits around Fodland had a new name for her...

The Tiny Destroyer.

----

Classroom...

“YEEEES!”

Annette held the paper up into the air cheering loudly once she saw an ‘A+’ written on top of the paper.

It was her certification test for becoming a brigand, and she had passed with flying colors.

“Thank you so much for your guidance, Professor!”

“It’s what I’m here for. I’m sure Mercedes will be thrilled to hear it, so go have fun!”

“Will do!”

She ran out the classroom joyfully while Byleth smiled.

“Look at my little children, off to destroy people.”

#shitpost #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses headcanons #annette fantine dominique #mercedes von martlitz #byleth #blue lions #ingrid brandol galatea #ingrid galatea #felix hugo fraldarius

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domesticatedantelope · 5 years

Text

fluency

Pairing: Colt x MC

Rating: E | NSFW 18+

Word Count: 2150

Summary: The one where Colt’s had just about enough of being left out.

Or, @brightpinkpeppercorn speaks magic, and I get the honor of writing it into being.

@choicesarehard @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @client-327 @zaffrenotes @octobereighth @liamzigmichael4ever @navigatorholmes @sibella-plays-choices @lovehugsandcandy @dr-casey-lahela

They’re doing it again.

Colt sets his wrench down, popping his stiff knuckles with a swift clench of his hands. Caged under the body of a car is not the place to lose his head; he repeats this to himself as the first hot licks of anger creep steadily up the back of his neck. He cracks the muscles there as well for good measure, but the tension lingers.

He can hear their voices drifting over from the front room, just barely audible above the din of static fuzzy music from the beat-ass radio against the wall. Damn thing is almost older than he is, but his pop insists on keeping it around, and normally that godforsaken crackle on the high notes is the most offensive auditory torture gnawing at his nerves, but -

Logan says something soft and susurrant, and Mercy laughs, that sugar taffy laughter Colt so covetously wishes he could keep just for himself. Against his will he strains to listen, but the words slip uselessly against his brain, a thousand tiny locks he lacks the keys for. He can’t tear into what he doesn’t understand, and the deficit infuriates him.

He tells himself it’s just the nature of Spanish as a language, legato sounds the two of them bounce back and forth like old friends, soft syllables all looped together into something sensual and secret and locked beyond his understanding - that a romance language sounds romantic, and it has nothing to do with the fact that it’s Logan.

Still, the echo of their conversation from the other room stings between his teeth like a cavity, hollow and sour. He grinds his jaw to stamp the feeling out.

Colt’s roamed the streets of LA since his feet could carry him. Spanish is no stranger to his ear, but Mercy rockets through the sounds like she could ride them to the stars, all rapidfire sibilants too fast to parse apart. Then there’s a verse of whispered giggles while Logan drawls through his response, and the whole thing is altogether too fond and too familiar and something feels like fucking fire in the cavern of his chest.

The creeper squeaks on timeworn wheels when he rolls out from underneath the car. “All right, that’s it.”

He nearly brains himself against the side of the car when Mona’s voice chirps knowingly from behind him. “I was wondering how long you were gonna put up with that.”

“Jesus, Mona, how long’ve you been…?” He staggers to his feet, wipes down his hands and casts a withering glare in her direction. “Shut up.”

She barely glances up from her nails when he storms past, but the smug curl of her laughter carries after him.

Jealousy propels him into the next room in three long strides, reckless energy that tenses in his fists and the edges of his vision. They’re hunched together over Mercy’s phone as she swipes through her photos, but their heads both lift in tandem when he steps into the doorway. She blinks at him across the room, dark eyes flaring wide and round as he stalks toward her, and recognition dawns across her face only moments before he hooks an arm around her waist and hauls her bodily over his shoulder.

“What - Colt!” Mercy gasps, curling two tiny fists into the back of his shirt for balance.

Logan’s already on his feet, reaching out as it to stop him. “Hey, you can’t-!”

“Say it in Spanish, asshole.”

“Colt Kaneko! Put me down!” Her voice scales a few octaves higher as she struggles against his grip. “I’m a feminist, for Christ’s sake!”

When he snorts a laugh, her knee swings in to deliver a swift kick toward his chest. He’s faster, catching her thigh against the palm of his hand, saving himself a blow that might have knocked the wind from his lungs. Smart little brat. “You’re gonna make me drop you if you keep that up.”

“Then put me down.”

“Mercy…?” Logan’s voice wavers somewhere behind them.

“It’s fine,” she seethes back, hardly reassuring, upside down over Colt’s shoulder and still trying to play nice. Logan’s earned her ire throwing punches in the past, but Colt wonders with a dark twist of delight where that puppy dog loyalty will fall when it’s Mercy on the line and not his pride. Might be fun to kick his ass. Certainly not as fun as what he wants to do to Mercy, but he likes to think that he’s prepared for every avenue of action that might cross his path.

In the end, it seems like Mercy’s no more fistfights rule has Logan’s hands tied, and Colt carries her alone into the break room, where he kicks the door shut behind him, dropping them into a heavy silence.

“I can’t believe you.” She hisses the words into the space between his shoulders. “Carried me out of there like an absolute barbarian.”

Colt props her down onto the rail of the pool table and insinuates himself quite pointedly into her space. His hand shapes a firm grip around her chin, pinning her under the full force of his glare.

Mercy glares back, but she doesn’t fight his grasp. Her chest heaves with heated breath, muscles tensing like she might still make a break for it until the first soft trace of pink rises telltale across her cheeks. There it is.

Long dark lashes frame her gaze and cast the faintest shadows down over her cheekbones, and some niggling, incessant urge to kiss the delicate shape of them coalesces with reckless abandon, tempting him across the empty space between them. The angry part of him bares teeth and digs its heels in; the aching in his heart suggests it’s far too late for that.

He firmly ignores both, clipping the words through his teeth when he speaks. “What have I told you about that?”

Something twitches at the corner of her lips, the first half of a smile barely bitten down. “You know I grew up speaking Spanish, right?”

“Mercy.”

“So unless you’re gonna learn it and speak it with me -”

He kisses her, claims her mouth and all the storming words there, and only the brief second between heartbeats passes before Mercy softens to his touch, breathing a gasp and kissing him back with equal urgency, hooking her fingers into fistfuls of his shirt. He toes the line of too rough, but she tugs him closer, arching to bare her neck when his mouth scales her jaw and descends the soft stretch of her throat, her eagerness versed out in little actions he’s relieved to understand with perfect comprehension; this, at least, they can speak together.

The first latch of his teeth into her skin sets off a shiver that leaps down her spine. Mercy breathes out softly - oh - her thighs twitching around his hips as he bites down and sucks and scores a mark that will fast bloom and become insurmountably difficult to hide. Her fingers travel up his neck to curl through the roots of his hair, his name barely there on the sound of her breath, and his body sings with satisfaction: yes, please, more of that, right fucking now -

His mouth scours a scatterplot of love bites down her skin, slipping her shirt aside to mark the curves of her breasts and the soft, bronze skin over her ribs. She squeezes at his hair as he shoves her skirt up and continues his determined path down her thighs. Her voice breaks when he bites her there, fraying into tortured little gasps that almost vaguely shape his name.

Colt drags in a steadying breath and drinks in the sight of her before him, love-drunk and blushing, flustered from his kisses. The calculated network that he normally maintains among his thoughts quickly unravels, scattered out into a jumbled mess of need and Mercy and now. He wants to watch her fall apart right here on the fucking pool table, wants her against his mouth, to feel her come undone around his fingers -

Irked, he glances down at the oil stains still streaked across his hands, and reluctantly he sets his fingers to her thighs instead, leading them apart for the further progression of his mouth. He doesn’t need hands, he decides; his mouth is more than capable of purging every last remaining word of spoken language from her mind.

He doesn’t bother removing her panties. His teeth tug those dismissively aside, and then he has his mouth against wet heat and Mercy is so ready for him, sobbing when he runs the length of silky folds beneath his tongue and starts to hint at suction. Her hips jerk, oversensitive; she staves the harshest of his strokes away with the fist clenched in his hair, and he eases off, chasing her white-knuckled lead.

“Colt-!” Mercy bites his name into the back of her hand, splayed out against faded green baize and fighting desperately not to make a noise; he can feel the tension of it in her muscles as she writhes under his mouth. He works his tongue in greedy, seeking spirals, and it doesn’t take him long to get soft broken noises past the border of her self-control, whining echoes of his name compressing down into a splintered chant as her hips lurch against him.

The urge to touch her itches in the tips of his fingers. He grips them hard against her skin and redoubles his efforts, jaw aching and sweat stinging down the back of his stiff neck and every atom of it absolutely worth it when she gasps and arcs and falls apart. The muscles in her thighs sweep in tight around his head, and he eats her through the high, past the point of whimpers and shivers, until she’s nudging him away with the heel of her hand and a strangled whine of protest, legs falling weakly away from his face.

He swipes an arm over his mouth, curling in against her chest while she recovers, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs as she starts to catch her breath. His cock is cramped and unbelievably hard behind his jeans, but the satisfaction of making Mercy come and the soft stroke of her fingers through his hair have soothed the sharpest of the edges from his anger. He wraps himself around her and listens to the slowing rhythm of her heartbeat, tiptoes his fingers gently over burgeoning bruises, the dark blossoms where his teeth have shaped the same word on her skin: mine and mine and mine.

“Hey,” Mercy croaks eventually. “Hey. Kaneko.”

“Castellano.”

She tugs him by the hair until he rises to meet her gaze, those delicate brows furrowed above her eyes. “This was fun, but…” Her cheeks darken. “No more carting me off like an animal when I’m just speaking Spanish with Logan.”

“No more doing it where I can hear.”

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

She tweaks the shell of his ear, just hard enough to hurt. “Don’t be mean.”

A scowl tugs across his face, but he dips his mouth to a faint outline that his teeth left at the base of her throat, pressing the softest apology there. “You could be a lot less flirty about it.”

Mercy blinks then, taken aback. “It’s really that bad?”

“Oh, my god, it sounds like you two are gonna fuck each other right there.”

Her cheeks wash with pink, but she pinches her lip between her teeth, considering. Then she nods. “Okay. That’s fair. Business-casual Spanish only.”

Against his instincts, he actually laughs; and he still wonders deep down what it is about her that lifts so much of the weight from his shoulders. “Mercy.”

“I’m only joking a little... It makes you uncomfortable, so I won’t do it anymore.” She shrugs, shaping her shaking fingertips along the tense line of his jaw. The flush of pleasure is still warm across her face and throat when she offers him a coy half-smile. “I might have been teasing you a little. To see what you would do.”

“No shit.” Colt rolls his eyes, but his lips are gentle when he kisses the pulse in her throat. “And?”

She laughs, that sweet tooth sound, roughened in the wake of coming and entirely for him. “Aside from being thrown over your shoulder like a sack of rice, no complaints.”

“Noted.”

While he fixes her clothing lazily back into place, she watches him with lidded eyes and reaches out to catch his hand, threading their fingers together. “Would you prefer I speak it to you?”

He answers at once. “I thought that’d be obvious.”

“Even if you don’t understand?”

“I don’t need to.” He soothes his thumb at the back of her hand, follows after with his lips against her knuckles, pressing a kiss there that he hopes will translate right. “I understand you.”

#rodaw #ride or die #choices ride or die #colt kaneko #colt x mc #ns*fw #sorry there is no actual spanish in this #just a lot of pretty ways to describe it from a big big fan #mercy speaks salvadoran spanish very quickly and to an ear untrained to spanish it is probably very difficult to piece apart haha #and this ends kinda sappy but that's what my smut heart said #all thanks go to mar and ellie for their constant encouragement and best (worst) influence on me *MUAH* to both of you!#ship: power couple #dom writes

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sweetsameli · 4 years

Text

Finding My Balance

Chapter one: What's your name again?

Two months have passed and I still haven’t found the ancient Jedi texts. Planet after planet, ruins after ruins and I still haven’t been able to sort through my feelings as well. I sigh heavily, my head beginning to throb mercilessly, groaning in pain. This is the second headache today... I hold my head in my hands, turning it a little to the noise of a message coming through. I go to press the comm button to listen to it when suddenly I feel a jolt of my ship coming of out of hyperspace. I tilt my head up and a vast, big, blue nebula is coming up; and fast.

“Kriff,” I exclaim under my breath, taking the controls into my hands to steer away, but it’s too late. I reach over to quickly put on my reverse thrusters but a bolt of electricity jumps through the panel and into my hand. I feel myself spasm and stiffen from the sudden exposure and everything goes dark.

My thoughts are jumbled.

“Mikacele!” I hear Aydgage’s voice echo through my head.

“How did you end up out here darling?” an unfamiliar voice rings through my head.

I move my head side to side, finally my senses come through and I can see again, though it still feels foggy. I sit up, my head aching along with my left arm. I groan, trying to see my surroundings. I turn my head to the right and a man in standing at a computer terminal, tapping at the panel next to the screen. I turn my head again to view the room. I’m in a... med bay? Did I go unconscious? Did someone find me?

“Morning darling.” The man finally says. I look in the direction of the man again and he is turned to face me now. His skin in blue, almost black. A midnight sky color, and his eyes are a crimson red. His hair is black and short, with some wisps touching his forehead. He wears a black leather jacket with strange patches and stitching’s in green and white. The jacket isn’t zipped up, revealing an off-white shirt. His pants are brown and seems to be made of a thick fabric. A gun holster goes down his right leg and has a blaster pistol resting inside.

“You’re a...Chiss?” I finally say, slightly shocked that a Chiss would be out of a military uniform, and helping someone out here.

“And you’re a Miraluka. Very observant.” He says in a teasing tone. He walks over to me, smirking and holding out his hand to me. “The names’ Darryl Trileav.” He waits for me to take his hand to shake. I slowly reach my right hand to shake his and let go after one shake, but not before I feel a jolt of...something jump between us. “You must be a Jedi. I saw your ship in that nebula but my scans didn’t show any lifeforms on board. So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw you in the cockpit. There was barely any oxygen on the ship and yet...I came over to you and you were just barely alive.” my head is still scrambled. I try to shake it, but it makes my headache worse.

“I...my navicomputer...it must have not known...about that nebula...being in this system?” I finally put together.

“Makes sense.” the man shrugs his shoulders, “that nebula is known as the traveling ship wrecker. It moves around and has intense energies running through it. Very dangerous to pilots with ships that have low to no shielding.” He walks over to a container that has a medical sign on it and opens it, pulling out a small bag and small water container. He comes back over to me and hands me the items. “Here, take these medicine tablets. They should help with the pain. Your arm was pretty badly messed up. Almost burned to a crisp. I managed to heal most of it but as far as the damage to your nerves...” He looks at me with concern and an alert rings’ out from the computer terminal and walks over to it. “We may need to see a proper doctor for that. Have you bathe in a kolto tank, and maybe that might work but I wouldn’t bet on it.” I might be able to heal it myself using the force but I haven’t used that technique for serious wounds like this. My head pings with intense pain then. And this headache doesn’t help. Maybe another time. I will just keep it at bay with other methods.

“Thank you. I appreciate you saving me.” I tilt my head to look at what he is doing but the fog hasn’t lifted. I take the medicine tablets and hope that it eases my headache with the plan that the fog will lift. I try to remember his name but it jumbles out of my head and I just sigh. “What was your name again? I apologize, my head isn’t in the best place right now.” He just chuckles at me.

“Darryl Trileav.” He turns around and smiles at me.

“Darryl Trileav...” I try out his name, “that’s...not a normal...Chiss name, is it?” I say with curiosity. I slide to the edge of the bed I am on, trying to get off. He comes over to offer help but I put my hand up, knowing that I need to do this myself.

“Yes, well my family name isn’t really supposed to be spoken to others and only by family and plus it is kind of difficult to say.” He says, watching me shakily stand up.

“My name is Mikacele Brelow.”I finally say, holding steady on my feet after a bit.

“Miraluka names are always so odd. Mika...celia?” He tries to say my name, messing up. I turn to look at him.

“No, Mikacele. And we do not have odd names, Chiss do. Always so long and broken sounding.” I retort back.

“Yeah, well at least the name I told you doesn’t sound like some made-up language.” He teases. “I’m gonna come up with a nickname for you.” I look at him with uncertainty.

“I... don’t really like nicknames.” I give a more serious look. “Especially ‘Mika’ or ‘Sweetie’ or ‘Darling’.” I say the last bit with venom but softness to not sound to rude. He puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get the message.” He’s still smiling. “I’ll come up with something better then. I always come up with a nickname for anyone I meet.” He puts his hands down and heads for the door. He motions with his hand for me to follow and I follow slowly. The fog feels as if it slowly lifting as I walk with him to a hatch with a window. “I brought you ship along, in case you wanted to leave as soon we get it fixed. It got rather...mangled in that nebula.” I can tell through the window that ‘mangled’ might be a bit of an understatement. It looks like it crashed landed on the dirtiest planet and then thrown into some ashes of a volcano. “I’m headed to Nar Shaddaa right now. I need to get some supplies myself and figured you’d want to fix your ship.”

“That is...awfully nice of you.” I have caution under line my voice. “Why are you so willing to help me though? Why are so you far away from your home planet and not in a military unit?” He shrugs his shoulders, then runs his hand through his hair.

“I wanted to... explore my options before I officially decided I wanted to be in the military. My parents were...kind of forcing the issue and I didn’t feel that it was fair.” He says it with uncertainty but I'm not going to press for more. He doesn’t fully trust me and I don’t blame him. I don’t trust him either. “And as to why I am helping you... well that’s just who I have become over the years of doing this job, plus your ship is a twin-tails. Super rare to find out here and I wasn’t about to let one slip through my fingers.” He smiles mischievously, “although I can’t sell it now seeing as you are, well alive.” He starts to walk again and I follow.

“Gee, thanks.” I mumble under my breath. It’s times like these where I wish I did in fact have eyes, if only to roll them at people and they can see it happen.

“Where were you headed for anyways? Aren’t you Jedi in like some war or something?” He looks at me with quizzical look. I look at him, my lips parting a little in disbelief.

“War? The Jedi went into war?” Master Dauula hadn’t sent a message to me saying they finally went to war...wait. “My computer, did you download it at all?”

“Not yet. I was a little bit preoccupied.” He looks at me with a comical look on his face. I look at him with a seriousness and he goes back to a normal face. “But of course, we can go and download it. Come on, follow me.” He starts walking towards what looks like the cockpit. The window goes as far back as the cabin starts and has the blue swirling in front of it, indicating that we are in hyperspace. He goes over to the comm station behind the co-pilot chair.

“Whoa...” I mumble under breath. He turns around and just smiles.

“Here, this should be able to connect to your computer on your ship.” I sit down in the chair and start tapping on the screen to get into my computer. “So, I’m guessing you probably haven’t heard about the bounty on Jedi either, huh?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. I look at him and hear him think that someone will recognize me and take that bounty on my head. I just shake my head in disbelief.

“Wow... Revan is being... fanatic now...” I tilt my head to the side a little. “Do you plan on collecting then?” I deadpan, keeping my guard up, ready to go on the offensive if needed. He now looks unamused.

“No, I'm not a bounty hunter. I don’t take credits on beings. Only rare artefacts, and ships.” He puts a hand over his heart. “Ouch, I’m hurt that you would think so lowly of someone who took care of you for three days.” He pretends to be hurt. Three days? How long was I out there for before he even found me?

“When you found me... how long had I been out there for?” I ask, ignoring his mocked pain.

“About two weeks, give or take a few days.” Two weeks? A surge of emotions flow through me. How am I not dead? Subconscious breath control? Maybe... I will have to meditate, and soon. Somehow, I am alive and I know it has to do with the force... Darryl waves his hand in at me. “Hey, you okay? You spaced out there.” I shake my head.

“Uh... yeah... Just a bit... shocked is all.” I finally say, trying to smile but I'm still shaken at that thought. I look back at him, thinking about what he had thought earlier. “You still want to help me? Even if a bounty hunter recognizes me?” I say his thought out loud.

“Hmm, no no. I know Jedi can read minds but no reading mine.” He looks at me comically again with a hint of seductive tone underlining his words. “Wouldn’t want you hearing my rather...interesting thoughts.” He raises an eye brow and I just let out a sigh.

“I didn’t even try to read your thoughts. It practically jumped out.” He’s about to retort back something to me but is interrupted by the navicomputer chirping at him. He gives me a sly look.

“This isn’t over.” He walks over to the navicomputer that is across from the comm station and starts tapping on it. I look over at the comm computer and see that my ships computer has been downloaded and I start looking at the messages. I’ve missed...several...I must have been in an ion radiation rich area of space for quite some time to not have received these... I start the first one, turning down the volume so Darryl doesn’t have to hear the messages. An image of Master Dauula comes up in static blue. He is in his classic pose, with his back straight and hands clasps behind his back. It makes me smile a little.

“My fellow Jedi, I regret the following news I have to give. Revan has announced a war on all Jedi who don’t follow this new empire he is making. He is calling it ‘The Sith Empire’. The council has informed me to instruct anyone who might be away to recall back to their home temples and to await further instructions. This decision is final. May the force watch over you.” He bows and the image disappears. I sit back a little in the chair, a little a taken back. I shake my head and start the next one. No image pops up this time, it is just audio.

“Mikacele, little one. I don’t have much time to talk. I wanted to warn you, stay away. I know I sent a message out to every Jedi to recall back but you must stay away. Stay on your path. I believe in you. Master Reneji has fallen...” his voice has sadness hidden underneath, “He has fallen at the hands of Revan’s newly found cult within the Sith Empire, the Revanites. Aydgage being the first of this new found order and the one to deal the killing the blow. I worry he might try to contact you, and confuse you with false assurances that Revan has promised the dark side can give. Be wary, little one. May th-”, Master Dauula sounded hasty towards the end, the message getting cut off. I look at the clip again and see that there was no problem on my end. My lips twitch a little. Aydgage? Falling in line with Revan? I sigh, and start the next one. A blue image of Aydgage pops up, he wears his hood back and looks to be in darker robes. I can’t tell if anything else has changed from the image though, being that it is blueish color.

“Mikacele,” I see him smile but it looks almost...sinister, “I’ve missed you. When are you coming back? I have so much to tell you. Revan...he’s shown me so much. I never thought I could ever feel this...” he spreads his arms out, curling his hands into fists and then letting them drop, “This powerful. Please come back. Revan will show you just how much the Jedi code, “he says with venom, “is wrong.” The holo message ends. I lean back in the chair again, putting my hand to my forehead and rubbing my temples... That’s when I remember Darryl has been standing nearby. I tilt my head back up and look over at him.

“I’m sorry. I thought I turned the volume low enough for me to hear...”

“Um... do you want me give you some privacy?” he asks slowly.

“Actually... I think I am done listening... for now. I don’t know if I want to hear the last one. I don’t think it’ll bring any good news.” I say, trying to avoid the message I got just before my ship got fried.

“Alright... if you say so...” he says with curiosity but seems to shake it off, “We’re about to come up to Nar Shaddaa... Before we get there, you should know that not only will you get wary eyes, but I might as well. I haven’t exactly built a good rep there. ‘Why go there’ you may ask? Because it is one of the cheapest places to get parts at and I’m hoping we can blend in enough to not get recognize by anyone.” I give him a skeptical look.

“Recognized by whom?” He gives me sheepish look as he gets into the pilot chair and nudges his head to the co-pilot, wanting me to sit there. I get up from the comm chair and head over to the co-pilot chair.

“I’m um...not really gonna go into detail about it right now, but just know that sometimes when you try to do a good deed for a bad person it ends up somehow bad to them anyway.” He pulls a lever and we come out of hyperspace, pulling up to the planet Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers Moon. I’ve only heard stories of this place, actually seeing it instead of pictures is... a little breath taking. The lights of the city shine so brightly that maybe there are patterns to the maddness down there. I help Darryl fly into the atmosphere and a small patrol ship flies up next to us, the comm rings at us.

“Welcoming party? I thought Nar Shaddaa didn’t have that, hence the name 'the smugglers moon'?” I say, not really looking at Darryl this time. He lets out an annoyed sigh and clicks the comm button in; a man’s voice comes through.

“Ship with designation ‘Dauntless’, you are trespassing in a controlled sector owned by Rosco Dearling. Provide proper clearance codes or you will be forcibly removed.” the mans’ voice is monotoned and almost bored sounding. I hear Darryl click some buttons and presses the comm button to talk.

“Codes have been sent, sir. And can you tell Rosco that he doesn’t need to send his goons every time I come within a centimeter of his stupid sectors?” He lets go of the button and mumbles something under his breath that I barely catch, “stupid, good for nothing, idiot.” it takes a bit but finally the patrol men comms back.

“Your codes have been cleared. Please land on pad 826.” It would seem that the patrol men disregards Darryls’ other request and flies off, leaving us to start the landing sequences. I can sense that he is a little bothered by it but doesn’t let it show on his face, instead all I see is anger and the anger hits me as well.

“I’m gonna kill him this time. Every time, I swear he does this to annoy me. Just because I helped and he didn’t think he -” He lets out a huff and then composes himself again, the anger leaving his body and only calm and poise comes through. “It’s in the past. He is letting me land now. I can’t stoop to his level.” I turn my head to finally look at him.

“Do you often talk to yourself?” I smile a little, but try to hide it from him. He stiffens, as if he had forgotten that I was there. He lets out an embarrassed chortle.

“Uh... Oh, hit that button over there. It’s the clamps for the docking pad.” he points to the glowing button next to my hand and I click it in, leaving the question be, for now. Not like I have any room to question anyway. He gets up after the ship lands and heads over to a ladder that leads to the exit ramp. I follow after him. He stops short of the ladder and turns around to look at me. “We are going to need to cover you up.” I frown a little.

“What do you mean?” I tilt my head to the side a little. He only smirks.

“Jedi tend to have very distinctive clothing, along with their robes. Although, your robes are gone now. They kind of got... burnt up, along with some of your tunic.” I nod my head slowly, finally understanding what he means. I know all too well what he means now.

“Do you have any spare clothing for me to borrow then?” He slides down the ladder and I follow after him. Perhaps after we get parts for my ship, I can go to a clothing vendor and get new clothing for myself.

“Well, I do have some that...might fit you? You are much smaller than me.” he gestures to his rather muscular, tall body and I purse my lips together.

“Yeah, yeah okay. I get it.” I say. He raises an eye brow and smiles, turning to a locker near the ladder and opens it. It’s not very big but has some items like a leather, wide bream hat, a couple of ponchos' and a few other items I can’t distinguish. He throws me one and I look at it. It looks beat up and gray, or at least now it is gray now. I put it on and it covers most of my upper body, with the tip just barely reaching mid-thigh. Just enough to cover my lightsaber. I look back at him and he is putting on the hat and closing the locker. We walk towards the ramp and it opens up for us.

As we walk out, I see him pull out a remote of some type and he presses a button it to close up the ship. We continue to walk and then I sense them, a couple of men beyond the corner that we need to turn to get into the district. Three with guns and one with a vibro sword. Another walking past them and rounds the corner. He looks human but has spots going down either side of his head, near his ears, and has slicked back black hair, his skin is an olive color. He wears a sporting outfit with a long synthetic fabric jacket, and a gun to complete the look of a classic crime lord.

“Darryl Trileav.” The man spreads out his arms and smiles big. “So glad you could come back”. I feel the anger wash over Darryl again, but it leaves as soon as it came and he is...calculating. I hear multiple plans go through his head before he lands one but I can’t hear it though. He smirks, crossing his arms across his chest. Rosco falters a little but seems to be unmoving.

“Rosco Dearling. How are things? Still having problems with the hutt cartel?” Darryl tilts his head to the side. Anger now wells up in Rosco, and he puts his arms down to his side. The anger doesn’t go away.

“I would have been perfectly fine if you had minded your own damn business. I would be in control of five other sectors instead of the two in this one and the one near the refugee sector.” Rosco hisses, and he waves his hand. “But no matter. You’re here now and all is forgiven. For now.” He looks at me then, putting his hands behind his back, anger still spiking within him but now a curiosity takes over. “And who is this fine specimen?” He starts walking towards us and circles me. I feel greed now take over his emotional state, and... lust. I shiver slightly, trying not to show it though. A sickening feeling crawls over my skin but I keep my mind on other things, trying not to hear his thoughts. He looks closer at my face. “A miraluka huh? A Jedi, perhaps?” He looks over at Darryl and I feel nervousness take over Darryl a little. “how did you manage to capture a Jedi huh?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sell her off to pay off your debt to me? You’re lucky you even gained any sectors. That hutt had you over a gundark pit and you are fool if you think that hutt would let you control all of his sectors while he was ‘away’. As for the girl, no. She is not a Jedi nor a miraluka. She wears the cloth to hide her scars as she had her eyes cut out at a young age.” He takes my left arm gently and tugs on me. His plan flows into my thoughts and I understand what he wants me to do. I feign a slight trip and give a small gasp to improve his plan. Rosco actually buys it, I can see the pity on his face and he opens his mouth to say something but Darryl interrupts him. “Was there a point to this special visit you so... gracefully have paid me?” He says it with such finesse. As if he knew this would happen. Almost as if he knew everything would happen like this. Who is this man?

Rosco doesn’t seem to be pleased by being interrupted. He turns around, starting back towards where he came from, I can see his men pass him to follow behind him.

“Don’t think you have won Darryl. I’m just one of many who hold a grudge against you.” and with that, he disappears behind the corner with his men. I turn my head to face Darryl and he stares at where Rosco disappeared from and then finally looks back at me.

“Sorry about that. I did mention that I had a... bad rep here. Though, I wasn’t really expecting him to show up at all. I don’t know why; this is his sector.” His arm is still linked with mine. I feel the jolt again but only slightly as pain shoots down my arm and I pull it away slowly, to cradle it against my chest. “Oh, right.” He puts a hand behind his head seeming embarrassed, “Sorry about that too.” He’s about to comfort me but thinks twice about it, shaking his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” I let my breath out slowly and let go of my arm, the pain subsiding to just a dull sting. Then I turn to face him again, “I uh... I thought you didn’t want me to read your thoughts?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking him. He looks almost complacent.

“Ah... Yes, well, you did say it was like I was thinking out loud so I took a calculated chance and it looks like it paid off.” He smirks now, “Nice touch with the gasp by the way. I didn’t plan for that. You surprised me.” He starts walking towards where Rosco came from and I follow behind him.

“I thought it would help with the uh... story you came up with. I could feel that he... wanted me... in more ways than just selling me.” I shiver uncontrollably this time. I can tell he tenses a little but keeps walking.

“Yes... I figured that would happen. Rosco is known in this sector to be a bit... greedy with women. Any type of women, and if he likes them, he will keep them but if someone will pay for them, he sells them. He’s not the kindest man here, but certainly not the worst.”

“I could tell...”

“Come on, let’s get those parts for your ship quickly so we can leave quickly.”

#star wars #fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction.net #hope you enjoy #I do not own anything star wars btw

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adelesbian · 5 years

Text

Jennifer Walters x Thundra One-Shot (Smut at the end)

Jen let out a groan and placed her phone on her desk face down. “I want to say this in the most respectful way as possible, I hate men,” Jen said as Bradley, her amazing, wonderful, gay assistant, entered the room.

“What happened?” Bradley asked handing her her coffee.

“Dick pic,” Jen said, “but just, in general, why does it feel like a chore to try and date?”

Bradley leaned on the wall thoughtfully. “Datings just tough,” he said.

“I’ve been in like one decent relationship in my whole life,” Jen scoffed leaning her head onto her hand. “One!”

“What was different about that relationship?” Bradley asked sitting down in one of the seats she used for clients.

Jen shrugged her shoulders listlessly. “He was kind of unbelievably perfect,” she said quietly, “Now no one seems to measure up so dating feels pointless.”

“You’ve been with a lot of guys, but you haven’t dated a lot of them have you?” Bradley commented.

Jen sighed. “Relationships just don’t work out,” she mumbled, “They didn’t before Wyatt too.”

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair having a thought that maybe he shouldn’t share with his boss, but he swallowed and share it anyways. “Maybe you’re using Wyatt as a measurement so that you’ll never find a man quite as great as him?” he said.

Jen’s brow furrowed. “Explain,” she sitting up.

“So, uh, Wyatt was the perfect man, but things didn’t work out between you, but you still see him as the best guy you’ve ever been with and your only successful relationship. He’s like this perfect man and no one else is as perfect as him so you don’t put in work unless a man is as up to his unbelievable standard and that ends up limiting you from basically every man ever,” Bradley said.

Jen stared at him for a while. “Why would I do that?” she asked as her stomach sunk. She knew why, but she asked anyway.

“Maybe you aren’t attracted to guys?” Bradley suggested quietly. “I know some places you can get resources to help navigate this kind of stuff. It could be that you haven’t met the right guy but maybe not. It doesn’t hurt to read up on why you might be feeling this way.”

Jen was quiet, and her head was spinning. Her brain was going one hundred miles per hour on about nothing and everything. Her office phone rang, and Bradley hurried off to answer it, leaving her to her jumbled thoughts.

“I’m attracted to men,” Jen mumbled, but her words didn’t comfort her. They felt fake on her lips like a lie she had been carry on with for way too long.

Jennifer’s muscles strained under the subway ceiling collapsing in on her. She was the only thing between her and the people with her being crushed. “Move,” she shouted at them.

When everyone was away from the area she was holding up, she allowed the ceiling to push her down to her knees. She hoped someone would come and get her soon, but the longer she held the crumbling ceiling up the more worried that she would have to dig her way out she became.

“Can you give Atlas a break from holding up the world while I set these up?”

Jen strained to look over and saw Amadeus Cho and Hercules holding braces of some kind.

“Never a lovelier Titan was I tasked with helping,” Hercules said going to Jennifer’s side.

“Herc, you beautiful, Greek god, you,” Jen said as he took some of the load from her weary arms.

“It was my idea,” Amadeus said placing down whatever these braces were and pressing a button.

“Nice to see you too, Chulkie,” Jen said smiling brightly at Amadeus. Calling him Brawn didn’t seem right yet.

Within moments the braces were in place and pushing the subway ceiling back up and lifting it out of Jen and Hercules’s hands. Jen eased herself down only for a moment to catch her breath. “God, thank you for showing up,” she said out of breath.

“I would take on greater burdens to see you,” Hercules said.

“Herc, you old romantic,” Jen said reaching out for him to help her up.

Hercules helped her up and pulled close to his chest a wicked grin on his lips. Jen stared at him Bradley’s suggestion played through her mind, and almost rebelliously, she kissed Herc hard on the lips.

Amadeus gagged. “I’m right here,” he said.

Jen leaned away from Hercules wishing that she felt anything from their kiss. It was almost painful how much she wished there was a spark or any enjoyment but there was nothing. “No offense to you, Herc, but I’m having a mild sexuality crisis right now. That didn’t feel quite right…”

Hercules’s brow furrowed, and he took a step back to give her room. “I have only the greatest respect for you, and if it is your wish that I stop my pursuit of you then I will without hesitation,” he said giving her space.

Jennifer smiled slightly and reached out to brush his face. “Thanks, Herc. It’s rough right now,” she said.

Amadeus was leaning on the wall of the subway waiting for them to stop talking. “So you had to kiss him right in front of me?” he said wrinkling his nose.

Jen winked at Amadeus. “I did it just to gross you out, buddy,” she said.

“Aren’t you a little old to have a sexuality crisis? You’re like forty,” Amadeus said.

Jen shot him a dirty look. “I’m not that old. Besides, you’re never too old to realize you’re not into men,” she said.

“What about into men?” Amadeus asked, “cuz I’ve been waiting for good ol’ Herc to come out to me for ages.”

“I am from ancient Greece. I am ‘into’ men,” Hercules said. He looked bewildered as if he thought it was common knowledge.

“I knew it,” Amadeus mumbled under his breath.

“So, Herc, you ever met Sappho?” Jen asked stretching.

“Never had the pleasure, but my sister, Athena, had quite the collection of her poetry,” Hercules said.

Jen opened her mouth for a moment then closed it thinking better than asking the question that came to mind. Amadeus, however, did not have that good judgment.

“You sure your sister had no sexual desire or was it just not towards men?”

Jen hit him on the back of the head and Hercules smacked him as well.

“I was just saying what everyone was thinking!” Amadeus exclaimed.

“Not I,” Hercules said disgusted at the thought.

The brace beeped loudly, and Amadeus looked over at it. “Guess we’re all set,” he said, “If y’all would follow me out of the tunnels.”

Jen, Hercules, and Amadeus headed out of the subway.

“So, what’s next for you, Shulkie?” Amadeus asked. “You gonna get a girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” Jen said shrugging. “I could call Jaz or Thundra and see if I want to make out with women.”

“The fact that you have two women that you know will drop everything to make out with you is honestly goals,” Amadeus said.

“What you don’t have two dudes who would make out with you if you called?” Jen asked.

“Am I supposed to?” Amadeus asked. “Do you, Herc?”

“Men worship me,” Hercules said.

“I need to get two guy friends who will drop everything to make out with me, I guess,” Amadeus said shaking his head.

“Say, Herc, you got your sister’s number,” Jen said teasing.

Hercules shot her a dirty look.

Jennifer leaned against the wall her arms crossed. Her mind was somewhere far away from Johnny’s chattering. She wished Reed was there to check her out, everything felt out of whack, not just her emotions.

“Are you even listening to me?” Johnny snapped.

Jen jumped and looked over at him. “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” she said.

“You too?”

“My assistant said something, and I’ve been mulling it over for weeks,” she shrugged, “I wish Reed was here. I feel out of balance.”

Johnny looked away at the clock on the wall. “What’d your assistant say that’s got you out of balance?” he asked trying to ignore her comment about Reed. She wasn’t the only one who missed the rest of the Fantastic Four.

Jen leaned her head back and knocked it a little harder than she meant to on the wall behind her. “It’s not important,” she said. “I’m not out of balance because of it. It’s just one of the many things that’s got me all messed up.”

“Heard you were thinking of joining the Avengers again,” Johnny said barely masking his disapproval.

“Yeah…”

“Disgusting.”

“There aren’t a lot of other teams for me to join right now, and I don’t want to be alone,” Jen said quietly.

“Just don’t do something dumb like date one of them,” Johnny said.

“About that,” Jen said biting her lip.

Johnny looked over at her panic in his eyes. “You’re not dating one of them? Please don’t let it be Tony Stark. I will kill you if it’s Tony Stark.”

“Oh god no,” Jen said, “I’m gay.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed as he tried to work out what she meant by that. “Like just girls?”

Jen winced. “I think so. Bradley pointed me in the direction of a lot of resources, and I’m starting to think my attraction to men was performative,” Jen said. The words that were coming out of her mouth sounded way too much like the pamphlets she read.

“I can relate to that,” Johnny said rolling his eyes. “Trying to be attracted to girls was the worst.”

Jen smiled widely. “Aw, look at us coming out to each other,” she said.

“Am I the first person you’ve come out to?” Johnny asked beaming.

“I kinda came out to Hercules and Amadeus,” she said then she sighed and said.

Johnny wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t you leave Hercules naked in a parking lot?”

“It happens,” Jen said shrugging.

“That stuff only happens to you.”

Jen shrugged. “Speaking of that point in my life, I was thinking of calling Jaz,” she said.

“Like for sex?” Johnny asked leaning back in his chair slightly.

“Maybe… I don’t know. She was in love with me,” Jen replied.

Johnny grimaced. “This is gonna sound like a load of shit coming from me, but do you really think you should do that to her?”

Jen let out a long groan and sunk down in her chair. “I just hate this not knowing,” she said, “I’m not used to it.”

“Get your phone out,” Johnny said annoyed.

Jen fished her phone out of her pocket. She unlocked it and set it on the table.

“Open your preferred dating app.”

Jen opened it.

“Change the settings to women.”

Jen opened settings and set her preference to women.

“Start swiping.”

Jen’s brow furrowed and she started swiping just like Johnny told her to.

The text was simple. ‘You’re She-Hulk right?’

Jen texted her back minutes later with a simple yeah.

‘Nice, you wanna get dinner?’

Jen stared at her phone trying to decide if she wanted to. This didn’t feel right. It was so impersonal. She had so many strong relationships with other women, why didn’t she just date one of them? Jen wanted to throw her phone but buying another one was too expensive so she just dropped it listlessly onto the table.

“Why’s dating so hard?” she mumbled.

It was the not knowing that was driving her out of her mind. She had to do something. Jen reached for her phone again closing the dating app and going to messenger. ‘Want to fuck?’ she texted Thundra.

Thundra was casual. She showed interest in her for years, waiting for her to show any signs of attraction to women, but Jen was in hardcore denial. And while riding Thundra had been a fantasy for a while, she was never willing to act on the urge. But now things were different. She had to know, and Thundra seemed like the best way to find out.

‘On my way.’

Jen didn’t have to wait long before Thundra was at her doorstep. As soon as Jen opened the door Thundra slammed into her forcing hot, greedy kisses from Jen’s lips. Jen shut the door a little too hard, but thankfully she didn’t break it.

Jen forced Thundra against the wall and pressed into her. Thundra strained against her trying to push Jen off of her to no luck. Jen touched Thundra with fumbling fingers. Thundra took her hands and showed her where to touch her.

“You are nervous,” Thundra whispered suddenly lifting Jen up into her arms and pushing her into another wall. Jen gasped and groaned into Thundra’s shoulder.

“First time with a woman?” Thundra asked grinding against her.

“Mmhmm,” Jen grasped out as Thundra worked off her top.

“I will not be gentle,” Thundra said squeezing just a little too tightly on Jen’s breast.

“Don’t be,” Jen panted.

“Will you scream for me?” Thundra asked before she ran her tongue along Jen’s breast, nipping at her nipple.

“When you do something that makes me,” Jen said impatiently.

Thundra smirked and dragged her to the couch leaving hot, wet kisses along her neck and chest. She stipped off Jennifer’s pants then her own clothing. Thundra’s nails dug into Jen’s thighs as she slid against her.

“What should I do to you?” Thundra said leaning down to suck hard against the crook of Jennifer’s neck.

Jen gasped as Thundra’s mouth left hot marks along her neck and shoulders. “Anything, god, anything,” she whimpered grabbing onto the back of her couch and ripping through cushion and fabric unintentionally.

Thundra heard the crack of the wooden frame and looked up for a moment, smiling at her effect on Jen. She dipped down again now back to Jen’s breasts. She bit down on Jen’s boob, and Jen tightened around her hips. Jen reached out to touch Thundra and with one hand Thundra put Jen’s hands above her head and with the other, she lifted Jen’s hips higher on her thighs.

Thundra ran her two fingers on either side of Jen’s lips, and Jen hissed at the contact. “God, get on with it,” Jen muttered bucking her hips into Thundra’s hand.

“Demanding,” Thundra said before biting down on Jen’s neck leaving a mark.

Thundra’s fingers pressed against the slickness of Jen’s lips. Jen’s breath hitched with each stroke that only came faster and faster until she was a panting mess. Thundra sunk down so that her head was between Jen’s thighs and began to lick at Jen’s slit and entrance. God, the noises Jen was making were embarrassing, desperate noises. Then all of a sudden Thundra stopped.

Jen looked up, her head spinning from the sudden loss of contact. Thundra was putting on a harness that she should have put on earlier but hadn’t had a chance. Her strap was big. Jen reached out to touch it to see just how big when Thundra sunk two fingers inside her and began to scissor them.

“I cannot wait to put my cock inside you,” Thundra said as she added slipped a third finger inside Jen.

“Just put it in,” Jen hissed knowing that the discomfort would only last for moments.

Thundra was not one to be told twice. She angled herself to better enter Jen then with practiced ease she pushed inside. Jen cried out and punched through the back of her couch with just a flex of her arm. Thundra picked Jen up by the thighs and carried Jen to her bedroom. She awkwardly reached for the doorknob until she grew frustrated and just kicked the door down.

“That was my door!”

“You can buy a new one,” Thundra said pressing her hard against Jen’s bed.

Jen let out a moan that muffled into Thundra’s shoulder. As Thundra promised she wasn’t gentle. Her nails, though dull, left sharp indents in Jennifer’s skin, and she hit hard and deep inside of Jen. The sounds coming out of Jen’s mouth were undignified, not that she ever worried about it before. Thundra dragged Jennifer up by her hair so that she could kiss her as she relentlessly pounded into her. Jen was seeing stars, but god, Thundra’s lips felt right on her own.

“Is this what you imagined it would be?” Thundra asked.

“Better,” Jen said as she was pushed to the edge.

Thundra was relentless. She knew exactly how she wanted it without Jen saying anything.

“You look so good underneath me,” Thundra said squeezing one of Jen’s breast.

As Jen grew close to her climax, she grew loud and loud her until she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Everything below her waist seemed to throb with pleasure until finally, it became too much and it burst. Jen felt heavy all over and fell back suddenly without energy.

Thundra cuddled next to her and kissed her neck and down to her breasts. “You were beautiful,” she said.

“I’m not going to be able to walk for days,” Jen said weakly reaching over to draw Thundra to her. “Thank you. I now know one hundred percent that I want to fuck women.”

Thundra smirked. “Shall we do this again sometime?” she asked.

“Please,” Jen said, “but next time I top.”

Thundra laughed. “You dare?”

“I do,” Jennifer laughed at the absurdity of all this.

Thundra caught Jennifer’s lips and they laid next to each other kissing soft and sweetly. Jen never wanted it to end.

#she-hulk #jennifer walters #thundra #johnny storm #amadeus cho #hercules #jennifer walters x thundra #fic

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themurphyzone · 6 years

Text

MML Secret Santa Entry: Winter Wonderland

For @cartoonygirl, who asked for Dakavendish fluff! And thank God, because I seriously need to write a somewhat non-angsty fic with these two! I promise this one isn’t going to run you over with a steel battleship!

Cavendish wasn’t sure when this dinner had become a complete disaster. It started off perfectly normal. Dakota shoveled food into his mouth, they talked about random things, and the shrimp platter was excellent. By all accounts, it should’ve been a normal meal.

Then a horde of cats rushed in, knocking over waiters and spilling food everywhere. They climbed on any surface they could. One cat fished in the lobster tank, until she overbalanced and fell in. As she scrabbled to get out, she leaned against the glass until the entire tank tipped over.

People rushed out of the restaurant, taking care to avoid the lobsters.

They were far enough from the entrance that the lobsters weren’t an issue, but two cats were now chewing the shrimp tails he’d set aside.

“They’re pretty adorable,” Dakota said, petting the calico under her chin. After several minutes, the cats grew bored and wandered elsewhere, no doubt looking for leftover food that had been abandoned on the tables.

“They’d be more adorable if they weren’t freeloading on something we paid for,” Cavendish grumbled. He signaled a waiter for the check.

“Since when do cats pay for things with money?” Dakota asked. “They’d probably have an entire currency based on petting or dead birds. But paper and coins, nah.”

And there was that strange train of thought Dakota always jumped on. It was both distracting and charming. How could talking about cat currencies and breakfast burritos be so distracting and charming at the same time?

When they received the check, Cavendish quickly grabbed it to distract himself from these strange, new thoughts of Dakota. Glance over the prices to make sure they were correct, calculate the tip, stick card in sleeve, it was completely logical. It made sense.

Unlike a certain someone.

He turned it over to the waiter. Wait a few minutes so they could run the card, thank the staff for the service, leave. There was a method to dining out.

But he had yet to figure out the Dakota method. It was a jumbled mess, everything was loud and funky and bright. Logic didn’t apply at all.

“Apart from the cats and the lobsters, this location’s nice,” Cavendish mused. “We should come back.”

Dakota looked up, his shoulders suddenly tensing.

“Something wrong?” Cavendish asked.

Dakota responded by lunging across the table, and before Cavendish could scold him for his horrible manners, Dakota slammed into him. The chair tipped over, sending them skidding across the floor.

It was a miracle he wasn’t nursing a concussion after that.

Cavendish tried standing up, but a pressure on his abdomen prevented him from moving. Then he realized.

Dakota was above him.

Dakota’s knee was on his abdomen.

Feeling his cheeks heat up from the close proximity, Cavendish really hoped Dakota was looking at anywhere but his face. “Your knee,” he managed after his brain started working again.

“Oh,” Dakota said. The lack of a joke was concerning, to say the least. He scrambled off, glancing at the ceiling beam that had fallen across the table where they’d been sitting. “Hey, so I’m just gonna head back to the apartment now.” He was avoiding eye contact for some reason.

Dakota helped Cavendish up, but quickly exited the restaurant without another word.

He probably said something he shouldn’t have. Why would Dakota take offense at cats though? It made no sense. Cavendish recovered enough to take his card and receipt from the dumbfounded waiter, who groaned at the thought of having to clean up this mess.

When he walked out of the restaurant, he was surprised to find Milo kneeling on the snow-covered sidewalk, scolding Diogee gently. “-and tomorrow, I’m taking you back to the retirement home so you can give everyone there a proper apology for scaring all their cats away.”

Well, that explained the cats.

Diogee barked at his arrival, and Milo turned around. “Hey, Cavendish!” he exclaimed. “You just missed Dakota. He went that way! If you hurry, you can probably catch him.” Milo pointed to the apartment complex across the street.

“I know where he went,” Cavendish replied. “We were dining together when that horde of cats came in.”

“Sorry for interrupting your date,” Milo said, grinning sheepishly.

“It was a surprise, but we were finishing up when the cats rushed through. There was no harm-”

Then he realized what Milo said.

“P-pardon me?” Cavendish stammered, just to be sure he wasn’t mishearing things. Maybe he needed to get his ears checked.

“I said, sorry for interrupting your date?” Milo glanced at Diogee. “Did I say something weird?”

Diogee barked, which could’ve meant anything from ‘this is boring, can I chase a squirrel’ to ‘seriously, what in the name of all that is good and pure wrong with you’.

“It wasn’t a date!” Cavendish protested, his voice an embarrassing octave higher than normal. “It was an apology dinner!”

Diogee instantly made a face, his tongue sticking out.

He was being sassed by a dog. How wonderful.

Milo waved his finger like he was chiding a toddler. “Diogee! That’s rude! Be nice or we’re going home.” Diogee barked in response, flopping belly-first into the snow and rolling around. “That’s odd. He only makes that face around Sara when she denies reading shipping fanfiction. He’s a silly pup. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you trying to apologize for?”

“Er, it’s complicated,” Cavendish rubbed the back of his head. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure what happened that day. “If I tried to explain, we’d be here for the next century.”

Oh, I was angry that Dakota took the last egg roll and we nearly broke our partnership after saying the dumbest things. Then our future selves broke regulations to stop us from breaking up and Dakota looks good in a Santa suit.

It sounded even more ridiculous when he put it all together.

“Well, I might not know what happened, but Dakota’s a cool guy,” Milo said. “I’m sure he’s pretty forgiving. Anyway, I need to get going. We’re having a picnic in the park on Saturday at noon. It’s just Melissa, Zack, Sara, and me but we also want you and Dakota there too! There’s this nice secluded spot we like to use over there. Bye!”

He ran off, Diogee trailing behind him.

“It’s the dead of winter,” Cavendish muttered, wondering why anyone would choose to have a picnic in the snow.

But he didn’t have any objections either. And the day Dakota turned down free food would be the day Mr. Block sang opera.

“Maybe he meant a different park,” Cavendish said after they’d walked past the playground for the seventh time.

“This is the largest park in town,” Dakota replied. “Pretty sure Milo would’ve specified if he meant elsewhere.” He leaned against a stop sign. “They won’t hold it against us if we’re fashionably late. Hey, do you think the tongue on a metal pole thing is true?”

Cavendish pulled him away from the stop sign before he had the bright idea of licking it. “I imagine it would be hard to eat if you showed up with a stop sign on your tongue,” he said sternly.

Dakota shrugged. “Not like I was actually gonna-um, you know your hand’s still, kinda on me....”

He quickly removed his hand from Dakota’s shoulder.

They had been making more accidental physical contact lately. It wasn’t bad, just...strange.

But not unwelcome either.

“Um, about the dinner a few days ago,” Cavendish said awkwardly so Dakota wouldn’t linger on the hand-on-shoulder thing for long. “If you want space, I’ll understand. We...I said some things I shouldn’t have. Just trying to make it up to you.”

Dakota shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not mad about it anymore. Promise. Besides, the egg rolls at that Chinese place tasted much better anyway.”

“Yeah, they did,” Cavendish admitted.

So if Dakota was fine, why was he still acting weird? Cavendish figured it was best if he didn’t comment on it.

Before he could dwell on it for long, they heard a shout from a nearby grove of trees. “Dakota! Cavendish!” Milo shouted. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

Zack followed behind him, panting heavily. “It was more like four minutes.”

“Great to see you, kid,” Dakota high-fived Milo with a smile. “I bet you can’t wait for summer. That’s supposed to be picnic season.”

Milo shrugged. “Well, it’s not only-”

Zack cut him off. “Yeah, we enjoy picnics in snow! Sara has an everythingproof-tarp we spread out! Besides, we can avoid those pesky ants this way.”

“Anyway, come on!” Milo exclaimed. As soon as he set one foot in the grove, a snowdrift fell on him, knocking him on his back.

Zack tried hauling him to his feet, only to trip and fall facefirst into the snow. He sat up, coughing and rubbing the snow out of his eyes.

“At least there was a lack of icicles this time,” Milo said, standing up and brushing the snow off his jacket.

“Milo, do you have a spare earpiece?” Zack asked, taking a small device out of his ear. “Mine broke when I fell.”

“Hold on a sec. Sara’s trying to get through,” Milo held out his arm. “Is everything ready? Okay, we’ll be there in a few! Cavendish and Dakota are with us.”

Cavendish wondered why he was using an earpiece rather than a cell phone. Milo just wasn’t the secretive type.

“The preparations are complete,” Milo explained to Zack. “Now all we have is the we-umph!”

Zack covered Milo’s mouth. “Wheat bread! That’s all the bread we have! Cause the store ran out of, uh, sourdough!”

Dakota sneezed into his elbow, but Cavendish could tell he was trying not to laugh.

And Cavendish wasn’t buying their story.

Milo and Zack gave their best ‘please believe us’ grins, only it would have been more convincing if their smiles weren’t taking up half of their faces.

“Well, we shouldn’t keep your sister waiting,” Cavendish said.

Milo had been right about the secluded part. It seemed as though people didn’t come this way too often. They reached a clearing, the tallest snowman Cavendish had ever seen sitting in the middle. Sara and Melissa cheered upon their arrival.

“Great! They’re here!” Sara exclaimed. “Let’s get this wedding started!”

What wedding? There weren’t chairs, an officiator, and flowers. Or any people besides them for that matter.

“A little bare for a wedding, don’t you think?” Cavendish asked.

Melissa stared at him. “Wow. I was so sure Milo almost dropped the bomb on what we were planning.”

“He almost did. Twice,” Zack replied. “I had to intervene. Did you guys believe us at all?”

Believe their sorry excuse for a lie? Not for a second. Why did they think it was acceptable to lie to them in the first place though?

Dakota sized up the snowman, then grabbed Cavendish’s hat and tossed it on top. Cavendish glared at him. “What?” Dakota protested. “It was missing something!”

Milo laughed. “We were singing Christmas karaoke when Sara said something about recreating the lyrics from Winter Wonderland. It snowballed from there, I guess. No pun intended.”

“Will the lucky grooms please stand in front of Parson Brown?” Sara announced. “That’s what we named the snowman, by the way.”

Dakota did as she instructed, Milo standing a small distance away. They smiled, sharing a fist-bump. Then Dakota turned to beam at Cavendish, as if waiting expectantly for him to do something.

Everyone was watching him.

And all the pieces were fitting in place.

“Wait!” Cavendish protested. “I-I can’t marry him! He’s my partner!”

Sara fell over, laughing uncontrollably.

“Dude, you just admitted it,” Zack smirked. Milo was snickering too hard to contribute.

Admitting what exactly? Melissa pulled him into position, next to Dakota. She frowned, then pointed to their hands. Dakota took Cavendish’s hands in his own. An odd tingling sensation flowed through Cavendish’s body.

Zack stood by him. He waved to Milo, who returned the gesture.

“So,” Cavendish whispered awkwardly while Sara searched for the right page in a tiny book. “I guess we’re skipping the proposal and engagement period, huh?”

“I’m fine with that. Preparing is the most boring part,” Dakota said with a grin.

“I got it!” Sara exclaimed. “Okay, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Cavendish and Dakota. Yeah, no one here is objecting. We don’t need that part.”

She obviously wasn’t qualified to legally marry someone, but since when did time travelers abide by traditions anyway?

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind me skipping over the sappy stuff. We know you love each other,” Sara said. “Ugh, the print’s so small. Where’s the stuff for the ‘I do’?”

“By the way, who had the rings?” Zack asked.

“I thought you were handling them!” Melissa frowned.

“We never put a position of ringbearer in,” Milo explained. “I thought we were forgetting something important.”

“Milo, I know you and your friends were probably planning this for a while, but how in the world were you able to afford wedding rings?” Cavendish asked.

“We’re but poor peasant students who can hardly afford a snack in the school vending machines,” Melissa replied. “So we have mood rings instead. At least, we would’ve had mood rings if a certain someone hadn’t lost them.”

Zack folded his arms. “You once left a note that said ‘take home math book’ in the math book you left in the classroom. I’m not the forgetful one here.”

“After Cavendish and I are done, you two should come up here and get married too,” Dakota suggested.

Melissa and Zack’s eyes widened in horror at the mere thought, their argument quickly forgotten.

“Good one,” Cavendish said quietly, so that only Dakota could hear him.

Then he noticed a tunnel forming through the snow, and Diogee popped out, two mood rings hanging from a string in his mouth.

“Good boy, Diogee!” Milo exclaimed. He took the mood rings and passed them to Cavendish and Dakota.

“Great, cause I finally found it!” Sara exclaimed. “Will you, Dakota, take Cavendish for your wedded husband, for better or worse, for rich or poor, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish-” Milo squealed, momentarily interrupting her. “-til death do you part?”

There was something in Dakota’s eyes that was unreadable, almost like a hidden sorrow buried there. “I do,” he said firmly. He gently slid the mood ring onto Cavendish’s finger. The black faded away, revealing a bright red swirl. It was bulky and made of inexpensive material, sure.

And it was perfect.

It was his turn now. Cavendish inhaled deeply as Sara repeated the passage for him. “Will you, Cavendish, take Dakota for your wedded husband, for better or worse, for rich or poor, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, til death do you part?”

“I do,” Cavendish replied without hesitation. He placed the other mood ring on Dakota’s finger.

Dakota looked down at their clasped hands. “You know it’s called a ring finger for a reason?”

“Er, I knew that,” Cavendish said quickly, correcting his error. His first act as a husband was putting the ring on the wrong finger. He was sure Dakota would never let him live it down.

“Then by the powers invested in me-even though I am not qualified at all to do this, but who cares-I now pronounce you husbands! You may kiss!” Sara exclaimed.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the kids chanted.

“So, were you going to initiate?” Cavendish asked.

Dakota’s hands twitched, as if he wanted to find some food in his pockets to calm his nerves. “You want me to?”

“Well, yes I want you-oh, you meant the kiss,” Cavendish wondered if he should just smash their lips together now and get it over with.

Something rammed into the back of his legs, and he pitched forward. Before he knew it, Dakota caught him, and their lips-

Dear heaven, their lips were touching.

Cavendish applied a little more pressure, and Dakota reciprocated. The kids’ chants died away, and the sound of an accordion filled the air. The rhythm was soft and melodical, the perfect song for a winter wedding.

Unable to support their combined weight, Dakota’s legs buckled, and they fell into the snow. But the kiss only deepened from there, Dakota’s hands massaging his neck gently.

Cavendish held onto the back of Dakota’s head, his fingers stroking his soft, curly hair.

“Do you think we should stop them?”

“Hush! It’s romantic!”

He never wanted it to end, but Cavendish found himself sorely lacking air, and he broke the kiss. He clung to Dakota, breathing heavily. Dakota’s face matched the red on his jacket, his hand clutching his heart as if he couldn’t believe what happened.

The accordion melody came to an end. “Congratulations!” Milo called. “And sorry about Diogee!”

Sara shook her head. “They really needed that push. Good boy, Diogee.”

Diogee ate a treat from the palm of her hand.

Cavendish stood up with some difficulty, taking his hat back from Parson Brown.

“And now for the picnic!” Milo exclaimed. Sara unfolded a tarp and began spreading it out. “I just didn’t mention the wedding part. We got plenty of food!”

Dakota grinned. “Great, cause I’m famished.”

“You ate before we left the apartment,” Cavendish reminded him.

“Exactly! Which was what, a while ago?” Dakota said.

Cavendish had been right to think something had changed. But not all change was bad. After all, he never would’ve met Dakota without it. They would have times where they would goof around and accomplish nothing. They would have their bad days, where nothing went right and left them stewing in frustration. There would be moments where his deepest insecurities came to light and left his a complete mess.

And no matter what, Dakota would always be there. The most loyal person Cavendish had ever known.

It truly was a winter wonderland.

#mml secret santa #milo murphy's law #dakavendish #vinnie dakota #balthazar cavendish #sara murphy #zack underwood #melissa chase

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junker-town · 4 years

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The gore, guts and horror of an NFL fumble pile

Jameela Wahlgren

Stories from the bottom of the most lawless play in sports.

Retired NFL defensive lineman Fred Smerlas recalls them as the most exhilarating yet frightening moments in pro football, a purgatory of cheap shots and atrocities where you did your time unwillingly, a place where dragons lurked.

The fumble scrums. The barbaric scramble to recover a bouncing oblong spheroid, maddening in its Boing! Boing! Boing! misdirection.

As an offensive player, covering the ball keeps a critical drive alive. As a defensive player like Smerlas, you can proudly present the prize to your own sideline, offering it up like some precious blood-ruby.

In tight games, the fumble stakes were so high, the adrenaline coursing so strongly to the brain, that the big defensive linemen, those lumbering apex predators, would hold up the ball and beat their chests, howling primal screams of accomplishment.

“As a defenseman, recovering a fumble was the difference between getting off the field or having to stay there for another 10 plays and getting your head caved in,” Smerlas said. “They were huge. You trained for them since when you were a little kid. And then, boom! A fumble happens and everything goes dark. Only the ball lights up. No matter what’s around you, you go for that thing. When those lights go out, it’s ‘Here we come!’”

Now 62, Smerlas was a five-time NFL Pro Bowl selection during a 14-year career as a nose tackle with the Buffalo Bills, San Francisco 49ers and New England Patriots. No pushover between the lines, he was then the only Greek player in the NFL, with a 6’3, 270-pound body filled out by dolmades, bougatsa and baklava.

Inside the pile, you kept your eyes closed, like a feeding shark, to guard against knifing hands that were trying to maim and blind, yank and punch scrotums, and dislocate fingers.

Yet the billy-club violence of those pileups still makes him shudder. The man-weight was so great that he could hardly breathe, and players hurt one another for the fun of it. Nothing was safe or sacred when 2,000 pounds of unscripted National Football League flesh-and-muscle pressed down on anything lying beneath it �� untuned baby-grand pianos crushing hapless players fighting for both the ball and for oxygen.

Inside the pile, you kept your eyes closed, like a feeding shark, to guard against knifing hands that were trying to maim and blind, yank and punch scrotums, and dislocate fingers. The football changed hands often and ruthlessly. Late-comers dove into the jumble with their helmets first, heat-seeking missiles looking to break or dislodge anything in their way — the ball, even teeth. You couldn’t even trust your own teammates because in the heat of the scrum, it was often impossible to determine friend from foe.

Years after leaving the game in 1992, Smerlas still remembers the screams that came from a snapped femur or tibia, the animal grunts, that soulless profanity. Perhaps worst of all, he can still smell the rank breath of those miners’ sons and blue-collar pigskin heroes, many amped up on amphetamines or steroids, or both, a concoction that made them unscrupulous and even dangerous.

“You got guys grabbing your balls, punching you in the chest, gouging your eyes. In the fumble pile, everything gets whacked. You’ve got 330-pound men jumping on you. Let me tell ya, get hit by guys that size with pads and helmets, and it gets ugly fast,” Smerlas said. “In the pile, we used a different language. Part Greek. Part Italian. Part filth. ‘You fucking cocksucker, I’m gonna kill you.’ Guys would purposely go without brushing their teeth and eat garlic for five days straight. You’d be down there and pick up some rank smell and tell yourself, ‘I don’t want to know what that is.’”

So dreaded are the pileups that they come to players in their dreams long after retirement: The ball is still bouncing. Mammoth men converge. All that villainy and violence, and without a referee in sight.

The average National League Football game is comprised of 24.7 possessions, about 12 per team, and 3.2 of them (about 13 percent) end in turnovers. Out of 2.3 fumbles per game, on average at least one will be lost.

The 1938 Chicago Bears and 1978 San Francisco 49ers share the indignity of suffering the most fumbles in a season (56), and the 2011 New Orleans Saints can boast about having the fewest (6). The most fumbles to occur in a single game is 10. That slapstick ineptitude took place four times between 1943 and 1978.

Those numbers don’t tell the whole tale. While fumbles are brief events, their casualties, from lost molars to blown momentum, add up quickly. Famous college coach John Heisman, canonized with his own trophy after he died in 1936, once advised his players, “Gentlemen, it is better to have died as a small boy than to fumble this football.”

Fumbles changed the rules of the game, and many earned their own monikers: The “Holy Roller” (also known as the “Immaculate Deception”), the “Miracle at the Meadowlands”, the “Butt Fumble”, and an incident between the Broncos and Browns in 1987 that was so crushing it became known simply as “The Fumble”. In the 1960s, a generation of players earned reputations as ball-strippers, boasting nicknames that evoked the wicked street-poetry of the The Longest Yard: “Refrigerator”, “Assassin”, “Night Train”, “Diesel” and “Bus.”

Jameela Wahlgren

Today’s game is its own cacophony of violence, and fumble pileups are still no place for the meek. Players are bigger, faster and more agile than ever before. But back in the old days, before instant replay and probing multi-angle camera shots kept players in check, before the emergence of new rules that banned head slaps and ruthless high-and-low hits, the field of play was more primitive, more ungoverned, more savage, according to interviews with 18 retired players, coaches and officials.

Gary Plummer, a former linebacker for the Chargers and 49ers, believes his era of fumble piles was more ruthless than today’s. He says that modern players are as prized and protected as Triple Crown racehorses.

“They can call it a respect for your opponent, but I think that it’s because most players realize that they’re making $5 million a year, and you don’t want to mess up somebody’s career, so the intensity isn’t as heightened,” he said. “When we played, guys were fighting to put food on the table. Today, it’s all about getting an extra Ferrari. There’s a difference.”

Cliff “Crash” Harris, a cog in the Dallas Cowboys’ fabled “Doomsday Defense”, was tagged by Washington Coach George Allen as “a rolling ball of butcher knives.” Oakland quarterback Kenny Stabler, himself known as “the Snake”, described mammoth Raiders offensive lineman George Buehler as a “Coke machine with a head.”

Defensive lineman Rich Jackson, who played for the Raiders in the late 1960s, was known for a bear-paw swipe called the “halo spinner”, and once broke Green Bay Packers offensive tackle Bill Hayhoe’s helmet with a head slap. Lyle Alzado, the terrorizing Raiders defensive end, called Jackson the toughest man he’d ever met.

Jackson called himself “Tombstone”.

“When they asked me why,” he said, “I’d tell ‘em that the tombstone is the termination of life, a symbol of death, the end of the road.”

Even Tombstone considered fumble scrums to be cold-blooded places. “You’d hear guys holler and you couldn’t imagine what was going on to make a man scream like that, the dirty things taking place,” he said. “But I was down there. And I did whatever it took. We played desperate in the old days.”

This lawlessness built football legends. Some players had particular reputations for violence. They possessed the honed skills of hired hitmen, only too glad to employ them inside the scrum.

Gremlins like Dick Butkus, Ray Nitschke, Jack Lambert, Lawrence Taylor and Joe Greene, who was known for being just plain mean.

“Everybody knew that you didn’t piss off Joe Greene,” said Clinton Jones, now 74, a former running back drafted by the Minnesota Vikings in 1967. “You’d even try to compliment him. You’d say ‘Nice hit, Joe.’ Because you knew that if you didn’t treat him nice he might try to eat you, and that would make for a long afternoon. Some guys had no limits.”

Then there was Conrad Dobler, who earned lasting infamy — and a cover story in the July 25, 1977, issue of Sports Illustrated — as the dirtiest player in football.

As Los Angeles Times sports columnist Jim Murray once wrote, “Conrad didn’t play football, he waged it. You couldn’t describe what he did as play. Not unless you figure the Indians played Custer. Dobler turned a line of scrimmage into a killing ground. He went about the game with … maniacal, suicidal fervor.”

For many players, the word “Dobler” meant frothing, filthy hits.

“Guys like Conrad Dobler would bite your eyeballs out,” Smerlas said. “Conrad would eat a child, for God sakes. He had no conscience. He’d tape his hands and rub them in salt and go after your eyes. He was like a crab. Everything on him was going to hurt you. If the ball was on the ground, he would punch you in the ribs or in the throat. You could beat Conrad to death, he wouldn’t care.”

Yet even the formidable Dobler quakes at memories of the scrum. “All that stuff they said I did at the bottom of the pile was bullshit; I avoided piles,” he said. “They were dangerous places. You could get hurt. Being there on the ground with your legs spread out and guys piling on, you could break something. One of the most dangerous places was standing around a pile. You’d get hit by some guy using his helmet as a battering ram. It was a good way to get your ass knocked off. All I wanted to do was get out of that pile and check my bones to see if anything was broken.”

Dobler insists he didn’t need the cover of a fumble scrum to inflict his damage. “If I hurt players, I did it out in the open. I’d bring up my hands and hit ‘em in the face mask. I’d catch ‘em in the solar plexus with my fist. That stopped ‘em real good. It was all legal. The refs didn’t like my leg whip, but it was sufficient to knock a guy off his feet.”

Fumble piles were the perfect cover for criminality. Players who moments earlier had been felled by brutal hits sought out scrums to exact revenge, knowing they could hide from cameras and the discerning eyes of opposing sidelines and referees.

“When we played, there was no place to hide between the white lines,” Dobler said. “If I got my hands on a defense guy in the pile, I beat the shit out of him. You got no mercy. I made a guy cry once.”

An opponent once tried to bite off Dobler’s finger in the scrum. “But I always wrapped my hands before games. They were caked in dirt and mud and sweat. I might have even picked my nose with those fingers. So I laughed at those guys.

“Myself, I never bit anyone. I liked my teeth too much. And I still have beautiful teeth.”

Though steeped in venom and hostility, the fumble scrum is also a place where real technique, finesse, sophistication — perhaps even something like artistry — could shine. Think of Mikhail Baryshnikov with a helmet and shoulder pads.

Some players entered the fumble scrum more as pacifists than combatants. The game was built as much on savvy and skill as testosterone and eye-gouging, they reasoned. Sure, smash-mouth worked, but so did sleight of hand.

“Players talked trash in the pile, but I didn’t get into it. You throw down all that hate and you get consumed by it,“ said Riki Ellison, who played linebacker for the San Francisco 49ers and Los Angeles Raiders between 1983 and 1992. “Every locker room had the big bad-ass defensive linemen who were on the top of the food chain and set the mood. But some guys played a game of psychology in the pile. Matt Millen always talked about stuff that had nothing to do with football, like the weather, how his parents were doing or what was going on in his life. It was pure comedy. It would throw off a guy’s aggression.”

Jameela Wahlgren

Few players were as crafty as Cliff Harris.

“As a free safety, I caused a lot of fumbles, many more than I recovered,” recalled Harris, who played in five Super Bowls and was elected to six consecutive Pro Bowls. “I had a technique. It wasn’t any big secret. I’d come up from behind a player and punch the ball out with my fist. We called it stripping.”

By the 1960s, teams were practicing how to snatch loose footballs. “You were trained to fall on a fumble in a certain way,” Harris added. “You weren’t supposed to dive and land on the ball, but hit the ground next to it and curl up around it. If you tried to pick it up and run with it, there was better chance you’d really get injured.”

Players worried the fumble scrum might result in season-ending injuries. Football could fulfill dreams of glory, then tear everything away when one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rolled over your leg.

“When I got to the NFL in 1976, I had to develop a receptivity to pain and learn how to deal with brutal, nasty, mean people,” said linebacker Reggie Williams, who played 14 seasons for the Cincinnati Bengals. “In the fumble piles, you’d expect someone to go for your gonads. Before instant replay, I felt a bunch of hands going for my nuts, so I’d get in the fetal position and clamp my buttocks together. One guy put his finger inside my nose and pulled, trying to rip the skin. Players would scratch your eyes, give you infections. It was all part of the nastiness of that pile. The dirtiest players were usually the ones on steroids. A steroid-induced athlete is a different kind of animal.”

Neck-twisting was considered fair game. “It wasn’t unusual for some guys to grab a player’s face mask and just twist, you know, literally wring his neck,” said Lee Roy Jordan, who played weakside linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys in the 1960s.

Thirty years later, necks and other vulnerable body parts are still being wrung in the pile. Today’s players don’t carry brass knuckles like Butkus or Nitschke, but they have ways of going for the jugular. “You put your hands up by somebody’s neck and, especially with an elbow, they stop moving,” said Stephen White, a former defensive end who played between 1996 and 2002 for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and New York Jets (and now contributes to SB Nation). “You hit the throat, the ribs or the midsection, somewhere that makes the guy cough up that ball.”

Smerlas likens the toughest players to prison enforcers.

“We pounded the shit out of people. A lot of guys should have been put in cages after the game. We brought the adrenaline to every game,” he said. “I popped a finger out a few times and pulled it back myself. Once I hit the side of some guy’s helmet and ripped the side of my hand off, pinky to wrist. I ran off the field with all this white stuff oozing out, and they sewed it up right there without any pain killers. That kind of aggression.”

Kevin Gogan, a veteran offensive linemen who retired in 2000, earned the nickname “Big Nasty” for his legal hits as much as his reputation for dirty plays. Calling scrum violence “learned behavior,” he offered some pointers on exerting maximum nastiness.

“The best place to hit was right in the soft tissue. I’ve poked my fingers in people’s eyes,” Gogan said. “It’s not a good feeling, oh no. I remember one game where I kneed this guy in the nuts, hurt him real bad. He got up before me and stomped on what he thought was my leg, with those fierce inch-long cleats they used for grass fields. But he hit my teammate instead of me.”

Even referees have developed techniques to survive the fumble pile. After all, they venture between the lines without the same protective equipment or blind aggression as players. In a scrum, they feel more like the Christians than the lions.

Jameela Wahlgren

Now 90, Jim Tunney was nicknamed the “Dean of NFL Referees,” and wore No. 32 on his black-and-white uniform. He was particularly wary of fumbles, which he called “the most exciting play in football.”

“As an official, you’re foolish to dive into those scrums. I told younger refs, ‘Take your time. Don’t worry about it. Let things settle down,’” Tunney said. “Sorting through those players was like trying to take a steak from a dog’s mouth. I’d see referees dig into that pile and I’d tell them, ‘What are you worried about? Trying to find the right guy with the ball? C’mon.”

Once Tunney sensed that the worst brutality was over, he pounced.

“That ball comes loose and 22 guys come looking for it all at once. Only one or two are going to get to it. The rest are piling on, trying to hurt each other,” he said. “As an official, you peel those guys off. You say ‘It’s over, it’s over. Get off of there.’ And most times they would. But until you got down to the bottom of the pile, it was Darwin’s survival of the fittest. I would tell players, ‘If you haven’t read Charles Darwin, you better go back and read him.’”

Most players simply have to come to terms with the idea that sacrificing their bodies is for the good of the team. Because inside the pile, some drooling 380-pound lummox with pads and an attitude could hurt you even when he wasn’t trying. Like a hippo rolling on the riverbed.

“The weight of the pile was overwhelming and caused physical pain. I broke my arm underneath one pile against the Pittsburgh Steelers. Just the weight of all those bodies,” Ellison said. “A guy was on top of me and my arm was in an awkward position. You can’t do anything about it. You just gotta suck it up and wait the 10 seconds for the bodies to unpile.”

Geoff Schwartz, an offensive guard who played for five teams and retired in 2016 (and now contributes to SB Nation), said that fumbles took a particularly hard toll on the largest players. He stands 6’6 and played at a whopping 340 pounds.

“Fighting for the ball in those piles was the most exhausted I’d ever been on the football field over a 30-second period,” he said. “Trying to keep control of the ball, when guys would do anything to punch it out. It just wore me out.”

Sometimes, fumbles would punish players for their instincts. When a football popped loose into the open field, big defensive linemen got hurt doing something they later reconsidered as plain foolhardy: picking up a loose fumble and trying to run for a touchdown.

“Defensive linemen never got any glory so when we could pick up a fumble, we tried to score,” recalled Bob Lilly, a Dallas Cowboys defensive tackle in the 1960s. “One time I had Larry Cole on my left, and Cliff Harris, another one of my teammates, wants the ball too. So he comes running up and hit me in the back and tore my hamstring in two. I thought two things while I was falling: I wonder who that son of a bitch was who hit me in the back, and that I should have lateraled to Larry Cole.”

“Tombstone” didn’t fare much better in a similar situation. “I was playing Cincinnati one day and there was a fumble on the 5-yard line. The rest is kind of blurry. But it was the worst experience I ever had,” he said. “I picked it up, and I was thinking TD. I took the first step and it suddenly felt like the entire stadium was on me. They had me by the arms and the legs and the neck, pulling and punching and doing everything they could to get that football. And I told myself right there, ‘Man, don’t you ever do that again.’”

If a retired NFL player’s long-past career can seem like a fading dream, then the fumbles are the nightmares, those nagging memory loops, full of anxiety and feelings of impotence, that wake you up in a sweat at 3 a.m. Suddenly, you’re drowning in the bathtub, or caught stark naked on a public bus, mired in quicksand while trying to outrun a serial killer.

Gary Plummer once picked up an opponent by the eye sockets in retaliation for being kicked in the groin.

Either you come to terms with the chaos and the powerlessness, maybe even embrace it, or you don’t. You shudder, block it out of your mind. Or get therapy.

Gary Plummer once picked up an opponent by the eye sockets in retaliation for being kicked in the groin. How’s that for a nightmare? His mantra: hit or be hit. “If you weren’t fearless on the football field, you wouldn’t have a very long career,” he said.

Many players avoided people like Plummer. After all, why mess with Bigfoot when you know the bloody outcome? “I wasn’t in many of those piles,” said Harris. “I chose not to be until I had to be.”

Wait, even the guy known as the “rolling ball of butcher knives” avoided the pile? “I was a tough player, but I was also a smart player,” Harris said. “What kept me healthy was my thinking, not my instincts. And my instinct was to stay away from those scrums.”

Though fumbles are still much-ballyhooed by fans, NFL officials maintain a love-hate relationship with them. In 2018, the league changed one rule, no longer calling a loose ball a fumble if the player who lost the ball regains control “immediately”.

Some have called for a possession arrow, like the one used in basketball, to curtail the violence and the guessing game of the fumble scrum. Even coaches have begun asking their players to hold back.

Jameela Wahlgren

Players who once sought out the fumble pile now can only shake their heads. “It’s amazing to look back on it,” said Plummer. “I was a broadcaster for the 49ers for 13 years and I’d go to practices and training camps and I’d watch the drills and hits and I started thinking, “My God, I used to do this. How crazy that was. It’s like you have this ’S’ on your chest and a cape on your back when you’re playing. Fear never once entered into the equation.”

Long-retired NFL veterans describe their fumble psychosis as if they’re lying prone on the analyst’s couch. “Our era featured the sons of coal miners and men who worked in the steel mills. For them, football was bloodsport,” Clinton Jones said. “And when players left the game, they had post-traumatic stress. They had nightmares of the piles and the intensity of the sport, one campaign after another. They remembered all the vicious hits. Deacon Jones was a good friend of mine, and he’d always say, ‘Somebody slams the door and I jump.’”

Deep down in that fumble-pile flashback, desperate men will always be fighting for the football, brutality still being waged. The ball is right there for the taking. The only question that remains: How badly do you want it?

Forever lurking in the deep are delinquents like Lambert, Nitschke, and Butkus. “They were fierce. They loved the fumble scrum,” said Tunney. “That’s all a linebacker cares about. He doesn’t care if he’s having dinner that night. He just wants that ball. If you’re a running back and you fumble, you might make one attempt at the ball, but you wouldn’t be caught dead on the bottom of that pile. You leave that to the big guys.”

By the time he retired in 1973, Butkus had hard-coded trepidation into a generation of NFL veterans, not only for his felonious tackles, but for what he did in the pile, and everywhere else. He broke bones, crushed egos and prompted stretchers to be brought onto the field. NFL Hall of Fame defensive end Deacon Jones said Butkus, “was a well-conditioned animal,” and that “every time he hit you, he tried to put you in the cemetery, not the hospital.”

After both retired, Tunney asked Butkus about his zest for violence. “I

always called him Richard. I asked him, ‘Richard, did you ever intentionally try to hurt somebody?’

“He said, ‘Nah, not unless it was in a game or something.’”

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