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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 days

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Smoking with Price

F!/AFAB!Reader x Price fluff piece. Word count 2.7k (oops it got away with me) Warnings: Weed and Cigar smoking, alcohol mention(brief), Soap is a menace, a little angst, happy ending.

Price Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | AO3

You met on a riverside patio in a pub in Hereford.

Him nursing a large measure of whisky and a fat cigar. You with a soft drink and a fat spliff perched between your lips.

It’s balmy, bloody Mediterranean your grandfather would have said, as you exhale a heady cloud of smoke from your lungs. The cheap tobacco aftertaste heavy on your tongue as you feel the buzz brewing deep in your chest. You hate how the UK smoking culture always cuts weed with tobacco, but that’s your fault for buying pre-rolled.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hear someone groan behind you, the heavy thunk of the patio door follows soon after the stranger’s grunt of disapproval.

“Sorry,” you say flatly, not really caring for the wanker’s comfort when he’s likely to just be coming out here to rapidly huff a few Lambert & Butlers – worse yet, Sterling Super Kings – before going back to the poor girls he has been dry-humping against all night.

“What’re you apologising for?” The gruff voice asks as you turn over your shoulder to address him.

“Thought you were bitching about this,” you say as you wave your dominant hand back and forth, spliff caught between your index and middle finger as the orange tip glows angrily against the darkening sky. You don’t know if it’s the high or the fact you haven’t gotten laid in months, but the moment your eyes connect with him you’re done for.

He has eyes like blown glass, bright blue with an intensity that makes you feel almost shy beneath his gaze. His beard is thick but well kept, despite clearly being able to grow it full, its styled into a heavy set of mutton chops. On anyone else it might look comical, but he isn’t anyone else.

You know you’re staring, but he’s not shy either. Those baby blues raking up and over you as he clearly fights a battle in his head over whether or not to join you. You don’t mind the pause, the indecision, it gives you a little longer to ogle.

He’s broad, like ridiculously wide with strong shoulders that pull at the seams of his white t-shirt. You never thought you were into body hair, but here you are practically salivating at the way his chest hair teases up out of his collar. His khaki cargo shorts sit low on his hips and your eyes are drawn to his thick calves. His hair is thick there too, prompting you to wonder how hairy he is elsewhere-.

“Christ, no, didn’t even see you there.”

Ouch.

You meet his gaze as he cringes, clearly realising how abrupt that sounded.

“Sorry,” he starts but you shrug him off, bringing the spiff back to your lips to take a long drag, trying not to grimace as you fully realise how high the tobacco to weed ratio in the blunt really is.

“S’okay, don’t owe me shit,” you say with a shrug.

“My mother raised me better than to make a beautiful woman feel dejected,” he says, voice softer now, almost sultry, as he settles a metre or so to your right. A respectable distance. He pulls a white tube with red detailing from his pocket, you smile at the familiar sight as he pops it open to reveal a hefty cigar.

“Going to give me whiplash with that turnaround, soldier,” you scoff as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You look over the banks of the Wye, unsurprised at how high the river is this after the recent rainfall. You can just about make out the cathedral on the far bank, it’s an oddly romantic scene.

I must be fucking baked.

You think to yourself with a coy smile as you’re jolted back to the here and now as the stranger speaks again.

“What makes you think I’m a soldier, love?”

“A hunch,” you say with a smirk as you turn to face the handsome man, you’re not going to give up your secrets so quicky.

“Oh?” he smiles right back as he pats his many pockets, looking for a lighter, “Enlighten me?”

“You’re not local,” you start as you watch him grow more frustrated, the furrow in his brow endearing, “At least, not in the traditional sense, accents all wrong,” you say slowly as you reach into your pocket for your own lighter.

“Go on,” he grumbles as he looks to you with a silent plea for help etched on his face. You toss him your lighter as you tease your spliff back to life, you caught it just before the last embers had died.

“Your choice of smoke is the dead giveaway thought, you’re not stuffy enough to be one of the local rich pricks, so it’s soldier or hipster,” you say with a breathy exhale as he rests the cigar between his plush lips. You swallow dryly as you look down to see your glass empty.

“Good observational skills,” he says with a smile as he ignites the lighter, “I’m committed to this the moment I light up,” he warns as he takes your lighter from your outstretched hand, “Fancy sticking around and keeping this old Captain company?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” you smile in triumph as you nod, “And yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

He cocks his head to the side for a second before nodding in appreciation, he slowly lights the cigar, fingertips gently rolling it around to get the right heat distribution. You’re mesmerised as you watch him work.

“Thanks,” he says softly, his fingers brush yours as he gives you back your lighter. You pocket it without a word. There’s a tension churning in your gut as you try not to get your hopes up.

“Want another round?” He asks as he finishes the amber liquid in his glass, “I’m buying.”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you nod as he passes you his cigar.

“For safe keeping, you’re welcome to some if you want,” he says with a wink before heading back into the pub. You’re left to your thoughts, as you try to decide if you should shoot your shot with him or not. You’re desperate for a good lay, but there’s something about him that makes you want more than that. You’re not sure you could deal with the bitter aftertaste of a one-night stand with him with no promise of seeing him again.

You shake off the creeping negative thoughts as you refocus on the here and now, you place the cigar between your lips and take a short, tentative puff. It’s rich, the flavour coating your tongue with warm woody notes and hints of coffee.

You’re warm, fuzzy even, as you imagine what it would be like to kiss him. You wonder if he would taste like the cigar trapped between your lips as you take another slow, savouring pull. Or would he melt on your mouth like the rich, peaty whiskey you assume he drinks. You can make believe, even if you may never find out.

You hear the patio door open and close once more, you’re about to make a silly quip about getting back here double time when you hear an unfamiliar Scottish lilt in place of your cockney companion.

“So, you’re the reason Price is rushin’ to get out of his birthday party.”

You snub out the last dregs of your joint on the ashtray as you try not to snort at the Scot. First a man with mutton chops, now one with a mohawk? You couldn’t make this shit up.

“Price?” You ask a little fuzzily, the high blurring things around the edges a little as you try and connect the very obvious dots, “Oh, you mean John?”

“Oh, la-dee-dah, he’s given you his name and his cigar, that’s practically betrothal right there, lass,” The Scot barks out a laugh as he flops back against the low wall, grinning at you like a Cheshire cat.

“Respectfully,” you roll your eyes as you bring the cigar to your lips but don’t take another drag as you eye up the objectively attractive man, “I’m not interested in the dick waving, negging, or whatever this is.”

He’s in jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, he’s similarly strong and broad to Price, with ice-blue eyes. You wonder scathingly if the SAS has a beauty standard these days.

“Ouch,” He groans, clutching at his heart as if you’d physically wounded him, “I can see why he’s so giddy, he likes them feisty.”

“Alright, piss off,” you grumble, mood souring at the overly familiar ribbing from the stranger, it screams of boys will be boys or some other misogyny-riddled play. Sending the asshole friend out to rile you up so Price can sweep you off your feet, big strong Captain to the rescue.

“Ah, hen, I didn’t mean t’ upset you,” he starts but you can’t shake the ick, this was a mistake.

“Save it,” you say as you rest the cigar on the ash tray, “Asshole.”

“Fuck,” you hear the Scot groan as you slip down the side steps that lead down to the near bank of the river.

Maybe it’s because you’re high and a little jumpy, but you’re not in the mood to be toyed with. There’s a small voice in the back of your mind that thinks you overreacted, that the Scotsman maybe came on a little strong but meant no harm.

But you’ve already made the impulsive decision to leave, following the river back towards your Air BnB where a cold shower and a lumpy bed await. You feel stupid, but know you’ll feel worse if you walk back to the pub now.

Made your bed. Now lie in it.

You scold yourself inwardly as you slow your pace from an angry lurch to a pitiful bimble. You’re walking for a while before you realise you should have gotten back to the red back door of the riverside property you’re staying at already. You pull out your phone, bringing up the address of the Air BnB on Maps. You watch as the GPS calibrates and your stomach drops.

You’re going the wrong way.

You’re rooted to the spot, caught between the river and the prospect of trying to navigate the winding residential streets of Hereford. You know Uber doesn’t operate in the area, and you don’t fancy tracking down one of the Beryl Bikes to cycle back through the small town. You know it’s a straight route from here to the property if you just suck it up and risk being spotted on your way back past the pub.

“Fuck it,” you grumble to yourself as you turn back around, power-walking back the way you came, knowing it’s the logical, and most direct route back to your accommodation.

You’re passing back by the pub when you hear the commotion, you almost ignore it, but you hear John’s voice loud and clear.

“She was nice, Soap, did you really have to scare her off?”

You pause, hidden from view above as you see John leaning back against the balcony wall where you had been only minutes before. His back is turned to you as he chews out someone further in on the terrace - you guess the Scot from before.

“I’m sorry, I was just havin’ a bit of fun, didn’t think she’d scarper like that,” he admits and you think you hear remorse in his heavily accented lilt.

“Well, you thought wrong, fuckin’ hell,” John turns around at the last minute, just as you’re about to leave and his eyes meet yours in the murky gloom of dusk. You smile up at him before forcing yourself to walk on, a small part of you hopes he follows you.

“Goin’ for a walk, I’ll deal with you later,” you hear him as you maintain a casual pace, the sound of the river gurgling in your ears as you breathe in the cool night air.

It doesn’t take long for John to catch up to you, a gentle call of your name giving you pause as you wait for him to level with you.

“Hey,” he says with a sigh as he keeps a respectable distance, “Sorry about Johnny, he’s… full on.”

“Johnny?” You laugh, “You SAS boys share names these days?”

“Just a funny coincidence,” John says with a shrug as he matches your pace, “I am sorry though, truly.”

“Appreciate it,” you hum as you look ahead, not trusting yourself to make eye contact, “But I’m not fucking you tonight, I hope you know that.”

“Reasonable,” he chuckles, “Can I at least walk you home?”

“Sure,” you shrug as you feel the flutter of excitement deep in your chest.

“So, you local, or?” He asks as you see the amber glow of his cigar in your periphery, the taste still lingers rich and heavy on your tongue from earlier.

“Just visiting,” you say as you spot the red door up ahead, dread forming in the pit of your stomach as the inevitable end of the night looms over you. John doesn’t press further, and you feel a little dejected as you realise, he may have just been being nice.

“Well this is me,” you say as you pause at a small wrought iron gate, “Walk me to the door?”

You bite your lip, it’s cheesy, but you’re grasping at any extra time you can here.

“Sure,” his lips quirk up around his cigar as he opens the gate, holding it for you as you slip past.

His presence behind you as you ascend the short flight of stairs has the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you say softly as you linger on the stoop, John hovering on the top step as he looks from your lips to your eyes in a brief flash. Blink and you would have missed it.

“Any time,” he says as he plucks the half-smoked cigar from his lips, “If you’re free tomorrow night, I’d like to take you for a proper drink.”

“Bold of you to think I’m interested,” you smirk as you take half a step towards him, “But yes, I’d like that.”

He lets out a heavy exhale and your cheeks burn with giddy anticipation as you realise he is interested after all. You blame the weed for making you double and triple guess him.

“Can I get your number?” You ask as you pull out your phone to see a message from Kate, you swipe the notification up as you pull up your keypad. John inputs his number and you play out the dance of calling the number to give him yours.

“Tomorrow night then,” John says as he pockets his phone, already turning to descend the steps back onto the riverside.

“Hey,” you call out, fingers circling his wrist as you pull him back to look at you, his deep blue eyes go wide as you fawn up at him, “Happy Birthday.”

You cup his jaw with your other hand and pull his lips against yours. You gasp at the way it feels, like electricity sparking between you as he places his free hand around the back of your neck, holding you to him as he holds his cigar to the side.

Your lips slot together like you’re made for one another and you have to muster every ounce of self-control not to deepen it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whisper against his lips before slipping from his grasp.

He watches, dumbfounded, as you disappear inside, his cheeks rosy and lips wet as he chuckles to himself. He whistles merrily to himself the whole way back to the pub, messaging you on a whim, wishing you a good night.

~*~

The next morning, John is making his way into the briefing room, distracted enough that he runs into a person he doesn’t immediately recognise.

“Sorry,” he grunts, “Didn’t see you there.”

You turn with a grin on your face as you recognise the sound of his voice.

“Morning Captain,” you say with a wink as you revel in the awestruck look on his face, “Hope you had a good night?”

Smoking a J with Simon Smoking with Soap Smoking with Gaz Smoking with Kate Price Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | AO3

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bluberryfields · 8 months

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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

youtube

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

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livelaughlovesubs · 24 days

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Incubus fyodor 1

Dom!priest!reader x sub!incubus!fyodor

Warning: pegging, CNC, against a wall, in a church lol, also taking virginity??

Sometimes I use strap, most of the time dick or whatever. Then anyone can feel included? Idk?

This was requested by 🍮 anon, like a loooong time ago. Gonna repost it now :> (was too lazy to do so but now that you are back-)

Fyodor was just wandering around, looking for his next victim. It was boring to keep staying at one place, he always craved something grandiose and better. One day he ended up at a church after going around town, he detested those places due to his nature. But then he saw you through the windows, a diligent priest working for god. Proud, hard working and kind. What a sight, you must have never known the pleasures of the flesh. Oh how he pitied you, guess he will just ‘enlighten’ you then~

The incubus was wandering inside the building, looking everywhere for you. Until he found you in the chancel, the sacred place. Perfect, let's see how sacred it will be after he defies god’s little helper. Protecting one’s innocence? How laughable.

Fyodor walked inside, wrapping his hands around you and holding you from behind. Hands running all over your torso, grinning in delight as he said, “come on, let's have a little fun~ I can fulfil all your fantasies...” before he could even react to it, you took hold of his hands, turning around and twisting them in the process. “aAHH-”he yelped, falling backwards and taking a few steps back, his body hitting the wall. Your hand pinning his wrists over his head, knee pressed against the wall in between his legs. He felt you apply pressure to his crotch.

The boy gritted his teeth, showing his fangs. "Are you a demon?" You asked nonchalantly, while he struggled against your strength. Fuck, why were you so strong? “Yea and? What, gonna exorcise me? Haha.” “An incubi probably, by the way you were touching me.” You came to that conclusion, not an ounce of emotion present in your voice.

Continuing on as if you didn't hear him, thinking for a second. “I suppose you wanted to feast on me?” He stared at you with a skeptical look, why did you seem so interested? Before he got the chance to ask you, you commented, “I'm sorry that you were born this way, having to rely on such sinful acts to survive.. what a pitiful being.” “What, oh no you are the pitiful thing here, I bet you don't know what pleasure is, all because of some prideful faith. Want me to teach you?” Fyodor said cheekily, grinning as he looked up at you, his knees bend slightly due to the position.

“Don't get me wrong, I don't detest your kind. God has taught us to accept anyone. In fact, i’d be willing to help you, so that you don't need to bother other innocent souls. It's the duty of a priest.” He didn't understand what you were hinting at, for him you were talking garbage. “You aren’t going to seal me or anything?” The demon was genuinely confused, you want to help him? Why? “No need to fear anything, I'm sure you have experience in this field after all.” Next thing he knew you turned him around, his back arching like a crescent moon. “What are you…” suddenly you pulled his pants down, exposing his plum butt. “Huh?! wha-" poor him, that incubus was super confused now, this can't be what he thinks it is right?

Seems like his worries came true, it was what he feared, he knew when he felt your tip press against him. “Hu-huh? Wait a second..! I-I thought you were...” “I've learned many ways to deal with succubus or incubus, don't worry I'm quite experienced too.” Then you entered him, yearning a surprised moan from the male. “Ahh..!” Fingers desperately gripping the wall, looking for anything he can clench onto, eyes looking back and trying to understand the situation. He was getting… topped? By a priest nonetheless??

Him? Up until now he has only ever been on top. What experience, this is his first! Fyodor felt another push from you, the strap slowly driving into him. “You are so tight... ah, what's your name?” “Why do you care, pull it out!” “I'm sorry, I can't do that.” “Why?!” “Because I have to subdue you first, to make you submit.” Your voice was serious as you said that, pushing more of your dick inside him. “UgHh! Slo-slow down...gentle, gentle! Ah, hu-hurts..” the boy whined now, crying softly as his dick twitched in excitement. “Oh? It is your first? Maybe you aren’t as dirty as I thought.” Still using the same emotionless voice as before, you kept unintentionally leave snarky remarks behind. All while your free hand collected the slick around his rim, covering the toy with it.

“So wet already, more than many others of your kind.” Were you mocking him? He wanted to insult you, if only the dick wasn't making his mind go blank. “Ahh...you, I won't-mhm! Fo-forgive you.” “I don't need your forgiveness, only gods.” You said, before starting to move and trust into him. Then you explained, “in order to excuse this sin I had to commit due to your existence, we will have to work hard to beg for forgiveness.” “AhHh! Ah-aHh.ah. Oh-uhh..uhm! Nghh..!” Each trust was paired with whimpers or a moan. Cute squeaking sounds escaped him, face and shoulders flushed red and figure covered in sweat now. His filthy fluids were running down those slim and shaky legs, eyes rolling into the back of his head. What was he doing, didn't he plan on fucking you at first? So how was he getting dicked down now. It was still too hard to comprehend. Yet it felt so good.. it was melting his brain, he has never felt anything this amazing before.

“Such inappropriate noises you are letting out, i guess you are enjoying yourself?” The hand which you used to collect his slick was now on his hips, holding him in place since he kept trying to wriggle his way out, trying to escape those blissful sensations. “Ah..wait..ah-Uhm! This is..no-no good..stop aHh!” He whispered, shortly after tears started rolling down his blushing face. You only picked up your pace, going faster and rutting into him roughly, sometimes you'd brush against his prostate which made him cry out even more. “Ah-aAhhH! OOHh! I'm c-close.. m’gonna cu-cum.” Fyodor breathed out, his entire being quivering in pleasure. This was heaven. Don’t get him wrong, he knew nothing of heaven but this is how he'd imagine paradise to be like. He was filled with pure ecstasy, it was damn addicting and he doesn't think he will ever get over it.

“You have to beg for forgiveness, and to excuse your pathetic self.” You whispered into his ear. Like a spell he couldn’t disobey, he immediately began pleading with.. whom? God? You? Ugh.. to think he had come this low. “AhhHhAA!! ohHh! For-forgive meHHnghh~..!!” His release came in torrents, coursing through his veins and making his legs go weak. He felt so helpless, so exposed and vulnerable with you. And it was the best feeling he has ever experienced, never in his life did he knew something like this was possible. Those noises were filled with desire and longing, loud and clear as he painted the wall white, “aAhHahhhH~!” A shudder ran down his spine, hole clenching down onto you.

The slick was all the way down to his knees now, and he was still lost in subspace. Guess the climax was pretty intense, rendering him to such a whiny mess. You weren't sure if he could understand you, but you tried it anyway. “So, may I inquire the name of you pitiful thing?” There were no answers, only breathy whines and pants. Eventually he gasped out his name meekly, mumbling, “fyo-fyodor…�� After blinking a few times, you leaned down to his ear and uttered in a seductive, as well as sadistic voice. This was the first time he heard your tone change. “I'm going to keep you here, so that you wont cause troubles for others. You don’t mind being my pet fyodor, isn’t that right?” And you let go of him after finishing your sentence. Hands leaving his body. Ahh..another shiver travelled down to his core, how could he ever refuse such an enticing offer? Without your help, his legs finally betrayed his body as he crashed down onto the ground. Sitting there looking all ravaged while a sticky white puddle formed beneath him. Fyodor looked at you over his shoulder while panting heavily, tongue hanging out from his blushing face like a dumb little pet.

Part two

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ckret2 · 2 months

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Chapter 43 of suddenly human Bill Cipher is pretty eager to remain imprisoned inside the Mystery Shack:

The Eclipse: Part 1

Gravity's disappearing in Gravity Falls. Bill has an explanation for what's going on that has absolutely nothing to do with him, and also doesn't make any sense. Fiddleford has an alternate theory that makes a lot of sense, and has a whole lot to do with Bill. Ford trusts Fiddleford.

####

"An eclipse," Ford repeated. "Gravity's vanishing, you're floating, and you expect me to believe that it's due to an eclipse."

Bill shrugged. "I don't expect anything out of you. Believe whatever the heck you want. That's what it is, though."

"Even if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, there aren't any solar or lunar eclipses anywhere near Oregon this summer—"

"Did I say the eclipse was solar or lunar?" Bill asked. "No. I didn't." He breezed past Ford, heading to the kitchen. "Hey, is anybody gonna eat those pancakes?"

"Mine." Dipper ran past Bill to his abandoned plate.

"Then what kind of an eclipse is it?" Ford demanded.

Bill leaned on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "Gravitational eclipse."

"There's no such thing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. I Think Having A Mere Five PhDs Means I Know Everything! Please, enlighten the trillion-year-old all-seeing eye who spent a year correcting all your math with your superior knowledge of physics!"

"It's twelve PhDs and you know it."

"Oh, so what! I can still count 'em on one hand." (Dipper gave Bill's hand a puzzled look.)

"Is that how it is!" Ford huffed angrily. "Fine, great teacher—would you be so kind as to educate your student on what the devil a 'gravitational eclipse' is!"

He fully expected Bill to start spouting some absurd science fiction explanation; but instead, Bill hesitated, gaze flicking nervously toward the ceiling. Ford looked up, but didn't see anything.

"Just don't worry about it." Bill rubbed his right eye. He turned away from Ford to watch Dipper struggle to squeeze pancake syrup out of an uncooperative bottle. "Everything will go back to normal in three days. Just—don't look at the sky."

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it," Bill repeated. "Hey, take off the lid and stick a knife in, you're never getting anything out that way."

"I've got it," Dipper said testily.

Soos came downstairs at about the same time Stan joined them from the hallway. "Dudes, I think something weird's going on," Soos said.

Ford turned his back on his fruitless conversation with Bill. "We've noticed. Gravity's decreasing."

Soos paused. "Oh," he said, slightly deflated. "I thought I was developing super strength."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So what's causing it?" Stan asked.

"I don't know yet."

From the kitchen, Bill called, "I just told you!"

Ford didn't look at him. "I don't know the real reason yet."

Stan asked, "Think it might be a portal thing? When it was powering up, gravity got kinda screwy. It wasn't like this, though. Any time there was a surge, gravity hiccuped for a few seconds. It never just... went down a little."

"And not for this long, either," Soos said. "It's been like this all morning." He paused; then asked, hopefully, "You sure we aren't just all developing super strength at the same time?"

Ford shook his head apologetically.

"Aww."

"I suspected the portal first," Ford said. "But I just looked it over and checked the equipment. There's no way any of it could have powered on. It's been completely disassembled since last summer."

Stan shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"The gravity anomalies occurred whenever the portal was connected to the Nightmare Realm. All I can think is that perhaps it's something else with a connection to the Nightmare Realm that might be having a destabilizing effect on the fabric of reality. Something much weaker, but steadily regaining power..." He turned to cast a venomous look at the kitchen. "Power like the ability to float..."

Bill had been preoccupied with dipping a strip of raw bacon into a stolen uncapped syrup bottle; but at the accusation, he stared at Ford in disbelief. "What—are you kidding me?"

"Have a better explanation for why, the moment all this starts, you can suddenly hover down the stairs?"

"Sure," Bill said. "I'm better at floating than the rest of you because I've been doing it longer."

"Oh, that's stupid!"

"You're stupid."

"You're up to something," Ford snarled. "I know it."

"What could I possibly be up to!" Bill spread his hands, exasperated. "Seriously! Tell me! What could I possibly be up to?"

Ford screwed his face into a scowl, trying to think of any way Bill could have orchestrated the gradual decline of gravity while imprisoned in the Mystery Shack. "You are up to something," he said firmly.

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well if you ever figure out what, let me know! I'm dying to find out what I'm plotting." He chugged from the syrup bottle like it was a flask. And then had to keep holding it up while he waited for the reduced gravity to work on the syrup.

"Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos held up his phone. "Just got a text from Tate. He says Old Man McGucket wants to know if you can come discuss the gravity issue?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Let Fiddleford know I'll be there as soon as I can. Does he want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just your handsome face." Soos chuckled. "He—he didn't say that part, though. I did. I just think guys should compliment each other more."

Ford nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Soos."

"Grunkle Ford, can I come too?" Dipper dumped his dirty dish in the sink. "I could—I dunno—help brainstorm solutions, or something...?"

"I'd be delighted." Ford had wanted to spend so much more time with Dipper this summer. By now, he'd thought they would have had at least one hike through the mountains around Gravity Falls and maybe dug into a couple of old mysteries he'd never solved. At least this was one mystery Ford could bring him along for.

Dipper's face lit up. "Hold on, let me go get my journal." He ran upstairs, bouncing up two steps at a time in the reduced gravity.

Ford murmured to Stan, "You can hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Stan nodded slightly. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good."

When Dipper had returned and they were headed out the door, Bill called from the kitchen, "Keep your head down out there. And get inside as soon as you can."

Ford shot a dark look at Bill, but said nothing. "Let's go." He shut the door behind them a bit harder than necessary.

Soos headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As he passed, Bill said, "Hey. Does the 'guys complimenting guys' thing only apply to humans, or what?"

"Oh. Uh..." Soos pulled his head out of the fridge to look at Bill. "You... look good in yellow? Is—is that a good compliment? I don't know what triangle demons consider a compliment."

Bill considered it. "Sure, it'll do." He dipped another strip of bacon in the syrup. "I look even better in gold."

####

A quarter mile from the shack, Ford drove over a small bump in the road he'd gone over a hundred times before.

The car bounced so high that Ford's head hit the car roof.

Somewhere, he just knew, Bill was laughing at him.

####

Dipper's knee had been bouncing for three minutes straight by the time they approached the gate to the Northwest Manor. "Dipper, are you alright?"

"Sorry." Dipper planted his foot flat on the floor. "It's just—we're driving really slow, and this whole gravity thing is kind of an emergency..."

Just nervous. "I know," Ford sighed. "I can't go any faster without losing control. Lower gravity means lower traction between the tires and the road." But it was driving him mad.

At the manor, Tate greeted them at the door with a slight nod. "Hey. Dad's in the lab."

"Thank you, Tate. I know the way."

When they entered the lab, Fiddleford was working with a soldering iron on an electronic device the size of a toaster. He looked up as soon as they came in. "Stanford, Dipper! Good timing. Come in. How's the shack?"

"Down a few rubber balls."

Ford left Dipper to drift around the lab inspecting Fiddleford's equipment and listening in on the conversation as he and Fiddleford caught up. Fiddleford had first noticed something was wrong during his usual morning post-coffee rambunctious rollick, when he leaped high enough to bang his head on the ceiling. ("All the way to the ceiling? In this house?" "Well, I was standing on the counter, you see." "Ah, of course.") He'd immediately built a vacuum chamber he could drop various tools and cutlery in so he could measure the acceleration of gravity. Usually, objects on Earth fell 9.8 meters per second. When Fiddleford first measured, falling objects accelerated by 7.9 meters per second—almost 20% slower than they were supposed to. Now, it was 7.7 meters per second. If that rate of decline was steady, gravity must have been going down overnight without anyone noticing. By Fiddleford's calculations, gravity was decreasing by around 1.5% an hour—and, if it continued at this rate, it would be gone the day after tomorrow, by early afternoon.

(Bill had said three days. That wasn't even two and a half.)

Fiddleford had done some scans and called some old college pals down in Texas to ask if they'd noticed anything strange—and it seemed that Gravity Falls was the only place in the country experiencing anything unusual, at least according to NASA's data. Fiddleford had asked Tate to drive around town dropping things; quelle surprise, the gravitational oddity seemed perfectly contained to the circumference of the town's weirdness barrier.

"If you're in communication with NASA, I don't suppose you could ask if..." Ford winced at himself, "they've... noticed any astronomical anomalies?"

Fiddleford stroked his beard. "I reckon I could, but—why?"

Ford sighed. "Bill said this is being caused by what he calls a 'gravitational eclipse.' Which sounds like patent nonsense, but—on the one percent chance he's telling the truth..."

"I getcha. That Bill's as trustworthy as a rattlesnake with rabies—but until we know what's happening, we ought to consider every possibility."

"Yes. Precisely." Ford paused. "Can... rattlesnakes catch rabies?"

"Absolutely not! Which is why you should never trust one what says he's rabid."

"Ah. Yes. I see," Ford said uncertainly.

Like Ford, Fiddleford's first suspicion was that this had something to do with the portal—a suspicion that was scuttled when Ford informed him he'd already checked the portal. Ford's own next theory was that Bill personally was somehow behind this. His gravity already seemed to be far lighter than the rest of the town. But Ford didn't know whether that was because Bill was causing the gravity-reducing anomaly, or because the gravity-reducing anomaly was disproportionately affecting Bill. And even if Bill was causing it, as yet Ford had no idea by what mechanism he was doing it.

Fiddleford had the first idea that might explain how this was physically happening: dimensional rips.

At the end of last summer, the town and surrounding woods had been lousy with small dimensional rips torn in spacetime by Weirdmageddon and its aftermath. A few had been large enough for a grown man to stumble through, but many were barely as long as a fingernail. Ford and Stan had spent the last few days of summer running through the town and the woods with the kids, armed with alien adhesive, glueing shut the rips; and then—after traveling back and forth to California to attend Dipper's bar mitzvah and to get hollered at by Shermie for disappearing and/or faking a death—they'd spent most of the next month taking care of even more rips. (Just enough time for gnomes to steal Ford's new Journal 4.)

The remains of the rips could still be seen throughout Gravity Falls: odd invisible seams in the air that seemed to make the woods behind them bend strangely, like the transition between air and water where light refracted differently. Sometimes the sun would line up just right with a gap in the leaves so that you could see a sunbeam bending in midair.

Fiddleford had two theories:

Theory one: even after they'd sealed up all the rips, the distressed fabric of reality around Gravity Falls had grown threadbare. Rather than a few huge rips tearing through to the Nightmare Realm, countless micro-rips were forming—hundreds of thousands of holes between the fibers of reality, too tiny to be seen or detected—and they were reaching critical mass. The structural integrity of reality itself was about to catastrophically fail. The barrier between here and the Nightmare Realm could shred apart at any minute, ripping open a massive maw too wide to ever be repaired, irreversibly swallowing Gravity Falls into Bill's dying dimension of madness and leaving a frothing pustule of chaos trapped inside the weirdness barrier, ready to spread across all of Earth if anything should ever pop it!

Or two: something else was happening.

Ford thought it was worth investigating. The damage was already there; maybe Bill knew it, was exacerbating it—perhaps by his mere presence—and was just hoping the humans wouldn't figure it out before his homecoming.

"You remember the wormhole detector I built last September to sense when new dimensional rips were openin' up?" Fiddleford asked. "Well, it ain't detected a thing in town since March—but if these micro-rips are real, they'd be too little to detect from any farther than forty or fifty feet. So's I whipped up a portable scannermadoohickey!" He picked up the object he'd been working on when Ford and Dipper arrived. "You can take it to the places with the most damage and wave it around to see if it senses anything!"

Ford inspected the scanner. "It says it's detecting eighteen right now."

Fiddleford waved him off. "That's fine, a few itty bitty little tears oughta be expected for the kinda damage we got last year. But if my theory's correct, there's somewhere in Gravity Falls that'll have hundreds of thousands of tears within the scanner's radius. That's what we're looking for."

"Great. And, what do we do if we find them? Such small rips would be impossible to individually seal with my adhesive applicator."

"I thought of that, too!" Fiddleford scrambled over two tables, knocking tools on the ground as he went, to grab a plastic cone-shaped object the size of a football. He scuttled beneath the tables back to Ford. "Look! I made a glue grenade!"

"A—a what?"

"Once you figure out where the micro-rips are concentrated, just pour that alien adhesive of yours into this spout here, pull the pin, and chuck it! It'll instantly seal up all the micro-rips in the area and then cover the whole town in a cloud of alien adhesive, closing any remaining rips!"

"Hmm... It sounds risky. It would use up the rest of our andhesive all at once," Ford said. "And the environmental impact could be devastating."

Fiddleford blinked. "Environmental impact?"

"Just think of an adhesive this powerful settling over the whole town and forest in a thin film. It would glue people's pores shut! They wouldn't be able to sweat! Imagine. And that's just one example of the potential consequences."

"Hm." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I could invent a body lotion with alien adhesive solvent?"

"Or, maybe we should only use the grenade once we're sure that such an extreme measure is necessary."

"Aww." Fiddleford kicked his foot in disappointment. "Hold on—let me at least whip up a spray attachment for your adhesive gun. So's you can patch up any clusters you find as you go." He darted between several tables, searching through drawers and tool chests for supplies, and then returned to his soldering station.

"Wait, hold on," Ford said. "In the space of a morning, you've built a vacuum chamber to calculate the gravitational acceleration in Gravity Falls, called NASA to get ahold of somebody to collect data across the rest of the United States, built a handheld version of your wormhole detector, and built a grenade to distribute alien adhesive?"

"I sure did!"

"And, how long have you been awake?"

"An hour and a half!"

Ford stared. "Where do you get your coffee?"

Fiddleford glanced across the room at Dipper, and whispered, "I'll tell ya later."

Dipper had drifted over to the miniature particle accelerator and was slowly circling it, inspecting all the pipes, trying to figure out how it worked. He was leaning over the trash can when Ford drifted over to join him. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I... think there's a cat in here?"

"You don't know that!" Fiddleford shouted. "It could be dead!"

"No it's not, I can hear it meowing."

"That might be something else! You can't tell!"

"I could just open it—"

Fiddleford chucked an empty plastic spool of solder wire toward Dipper. "Don't you touch that!"

Dipper withdrew his hand from the trash can lid and looked at Ford, baffled.

"I'll explain how it works," Ford said.

While Fiddleford worked, Ford caught Dipper up on the details of the fuel they needed for the Quantum Destabilizer, the contraption Fiddleford had built to synthesize it, and the complicated way they'd tried to paradoxically (not) observe the experiment in progress. When Fiddleford came over to offer the completed spray nozzle, Ford asked, "Any progress on figuring out how to get this thing working?"

"No," Fiddleford sighed. "I've been lookin' into more stable paradoxes to replace the cat. But as far as the observer—I'd hoped usin' twins might just get close enough, but I've redid my cac'lations three times and I'm afraid the only way to get this thing working is by gettin' one person to both observe and not observe it at the same time. If we can just do that, we'd have all the fuel we need. But for the life of me I can't figure out how."

"Maybe if we had two versions of the same person from different dimensions..." Ford mused. "But that would require opening up a portal to reach another dimension, and there's the risk that uniting parallel versions of the same person might destabilize our entire dimension. It's not worth the risk."

"It sounds like one of those impossible riddles," Dipper said. "Like, 'If only a barber shaves people who don't shave themselves, and if anyone who shaves himself isn't a barber, then who shaves the barber?' Because if he shaved himself he wouldn't be a barber but since he shaves other people he has to be a barber..."

Ford said, "A second barber shaves him."

Fiddleford said, "He just don't shave at all."

Dipper paused. "I think I told it wrong."

Ford patted his shoulder. "But I think you're on to something. We need to think of this as a riddle; and every riddle has a solution. We just need to find it."

"After we save the town, right?" Dipper asked.

Ford smiled wanly. "One crisis at a time."

####

They agreed that investigating all the potential micro-rip hotspots around town would probably necessitate a camping trip—which was the only bit of good news to come out of this mess so far. Due to all of this summer's Bill bullsoup (as Stan had taken to calling it in front of the kids), Ford and Dipper had hardly gotten to see each other so far, much less do any serious paranormal investigating together. Hiking and camping while in search of the strange sounded like exactly what they'd been missing out on—and it would've sounded even better if the situation weren't so dire.

Ford and Dipper came back in the Mystery Shack as Shandra Jimenez said on TV, "Today's top story in Gravity Falls is that gravity isn't falling. Many residents recall similar incidents around this time last summer, when gravity intermittently shut off entirely, leading many to ask: could this possibly be another devastating effect of global warming? Temperatures today are—"

Ford scoffed. "Global warming. Of all things. Gravity is probably the only part of the environment it isn't affecting."

"I dunno, Ford, maybe you oughta consider it." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his hand. He had his eye patch over the eye he'd been squinting that morning. "As long as you're already rejecting the real explanation to make up one you like better, why not go whole hog? Let's adopt a real crackpot theory."

"You want to talk about 'crackpot theories'? Global warming sounds at least as likely as an eclipse."

"That says a lot more about your education than it does about the theories."

Ford grit his teeth. "You know I'm one of the most educated men on Earth."

"And that says a lot about your planet's educational system."

Stan, sitting in his armchair reading the paper, folded it down to glower at Bill. "Stop antagonizing my brother."

"Tell him to stop making it so easy."

Ford grit his teeth harder, but ignored Bill. "Dipper, go pack your backpack. I'll check the basement and meet you when I'm done."

"Right!" Dipper hurried up the stairs.

Ford crossed the living room, checking the micro-rip scanner—88 detected rips, over five times higher than at Northwest Manor, but still nowhere near the 100,000 rip danger threshold. He'd see whether that remained true next to the portal. He paused next to Stan's armchair, "Stanley, do you remember where we stored the alien adhesive applicator?"

"Uhh... when's the last time we used it?"

"Last fall, right before we headed to Seattle."

Stan lowered his paper, staring at the ceiling. "I think we stored it in one of the lockers in the basement, right?"

"It's not there," Bill said.

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "And how would you know."

"Because the first day I came here, I emptied out all those lockers and hid their contents while I was waiting for the rest of you to get downstairs."

Ford smacked the back of the armchair, making Stan start. "So that's what happened to my infinity-sided die! Where the devil did you hide it?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're responsible enough to handle that kind of power," Bill said archly.

"Where's the adhesive applicator!"

"What do you need it for?"

"That's none of your business."

"Pity." Bill turned up the volume on the news.

Ford moved between Bill and the screen. "If you don't tell me where you hid it..." What threat could he make? This was the demon willing to threaten suicide if his captors didn't keep him entertained.

"Tell me why you need it."

"As if you'd give it to me if I did!"

"Maybe I'll find your cause noble," Bill said flatly. "Try me."

Oh, what did he have to lose. "Fine. I'm testing to see if imperceptibly small rips are opening between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm. If they are, I'm going to seal them shut." He hoped the revelation would throw Bill off—he hoped he was close enough to the truth to shock Bill into giving something away.

Bill's eye widened, eyebrows shooting up; and then he burst out laughing. "That's what Specs filled your head with? Embryonic wormholes? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! And you're turning to him for an explanation when you've got a being with infinite answers sitting in your living room?"

Ford scoffed. "Sure, infinite answers—and just like the infinity-sided die, whatever I get is infinitely more likely to be trouble than anything useful. Now tell me where you put my adhesive applicator."

"I didn't put it anywhere." Bill held the remote out to the side to change the channel and stared at the TV straight through Ford, as if he didn't exist. "It's still in the basement. A little adhesive leaked out, I couldn't get the locker door open."

"Ha!" Stan slapped an armrest.

Ford whirled around to glare at him.

Stan held up his hands appeasingly. "Sorry! Sorry. That's not funny. Wasn't—wasn't funny at all. How dare you, Bill."

"I know, I'm just the worst."

Ford held in a harsh sigh and stalked out of the room. He didn't have time for this—not when they were on a deadline to prevent whatever was happening. (What if it became too late to reverse before gravity even reached 0%? What if they were approaching a tipping point when the whole sky would rip open?)

He opened the vending machine and headed downstairs.

####

He had to break the locker door to get the alien adhesive applicator out. He'd have to figure out how the nozzle had leaked before he stored it again.

According to the sensor, there were over a thousand micro-rips detectable just from standing near the portal controls. The number increased as he approached the portal itself; the highest quantity the scanner detected was nearly 5,000. Over fifty times higher than on the shack's ground level. It was clear some sort of damage had been done here.

But Fiddleford had said, for them to be concerned about reality shredding, there should be hundreds of thousands of micro-rips in one location. And Ford trusted any numbers Fiddleford gave him; wherever Ford tended to double-check his math, Fiddleford quintuple-checked his.

Even at the interdimensional portal itself—the spot where the veil between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm had been ripped open and stitched shut so many times, the spot where the rift that nearly ended the world had been formed—there were less than 5% of the rips they needed before they started reaching dangerous levels.

Ford looked up at the portal, frowning.

The portal's torn and crumpled pieces lay against the cavern walls where he'd left them last summer.

Never mind. There were several other places that could be hotspots for micro-rips. He couldn't draw any conclusions about what was happening here until he'd checked them too.

But whatever was happening, it certainly wasn't an eclipse.

He added Fiddleford's spray attachment to the adhesive applicator and filled the chamber with a mist of glue, until the scanner read less than 200 micro-rips; then stopped by his study to grab a couple maps of the mountains around Gravity Falls, his antique lantern, and a tent; and headed back up to the house.

####

During their past year of travels, Stan and Ford had started keeping two emergency backpacks stocked in case they needed to flee on short notice. The backpacks contained everything they'd need to survive in the wilderness or a strange city for three days; and Ford had thirty long years of experience to teach him exactly what supplies that necessitated. He grabbed his backpack out of the guest room, and then spread out his map on the kitchen table to show to Dipper.

"If our micro-rip theory is correct, there are four potential places where I suspect they'll be most densely concentrated: the place where the interdimensional rift formed; where it was unleashed; where it was suspended for the majority of Weirdmageddon; and where it was sealed."

"And you've already checked the portal where it formed," Dipper said. "What about the place it was suspended? It was floating in the sky over town. There's no way we can get up there until gravity's completely gone, and by then it'll be too late."

"I've considered that. The closest we can get is Gravity Peak, but from there we should be able to get the sensor close enough to tell if there's an unusual amount of rips." Ford circled three spots on the map, and drew a dotted line connecting them. "We're heading out late, but we should be able to hit the locations where Weirdmageddon began and ended today. We can cross the lake to camp in the cavern behind Trembley Falls, get an early start, and take the hidden cave tunnel up to Gravity Peak."

"Not the best time for a hiking trip," Bill said.

Ford shot him an exasperated look. Bill was leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking condescendingly. "Or maybe it is, if you're trying to avoid as much effort as possible," he says. "But I still wouldn't go if I were you. You don't want to be outdoors during an eclipse—and you don't want to be on a mountain when gravity comes back."

"Nobody asked you," Ford said, turning his back on Bill. "Now—cooking will be difficult as gravity decreases, but not to worry—" he unzipped his backpack, "—I've already prepared everything we'll need." Grinning, he pulled out what looked like a toothpaste tube with a "beef and vegetables" label. "Astronaut food!"

Dipper grimaced. "Great."

"You should have asked me," Bill said, a bit louder. "Considering that Specs is sending you on a wild goose chase. But hey, if you're that determined to waste your time, just don't say I didn't tell you so."

"You haven't even told us what an 'eclipse' is," Dipper said. "If it's not important enough to explain, I don't see why it's important enough for us to listen to you."

"Well said," Ford muttered.

"It's too important to explain," Bill retorted. "I've told you everything you need to know!"

Ford said, "Ha," and started folding his map to pack.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence; and then Bill walked into the room, leaned on the fridge, and glowered at Ford. "Listen. As far as you're concerned, the eclipse is probably harmless. It should peak in three days—"

"Fiddleford said at its current rate of decrease, it should be the day after tomorrow."

Ford expected Bill to argue; but instead, he frowned uneasily. "I—Sure, fine, whatever, he's probably done the math, I've just been eyeballing it. Did he say what time?"

Surprised, Ford said, "early afternoon, by his measurements."

Bill nodded vaguely, glancing again toward the ceiling. "Whatever time it happens—gravity will gradually decrease until totality, and then it'll come back very quickly, so—if you want to help your town so much, tell them that they don't want to be climbing trees in zero G. Otherwise, the best thing you can do is stay inside, wait for it to pass, keep your eyes shutduring totality—and do not look up."

"Why can't we look up?" Dipper asked.

Bill laughed derisively. "Would you stare at the sun during a solar eclipse? It's like I'm talking to babies!"

The last fraying thread of Ford's patience snapped. He seized Bill's hoodie by the strings and dragged him closer. "Enough!"

Bill flailed, kicking the table as he tried to back out of Ford's grip, and ended up losing his footing and landing on the floor. It was too easy to drag him around—he was so light. Ford leaned down to glare straight in his eye. "If you're so worried about how we're handling this eclipse of yours, maybe you should come with us!"

Horror bloomed in Bill's eye. "What? No no no, that's—that's fine, I told you everything you need, I'd just slow you down, I'd really be much happier in here—"

"I bet you would be," Ford snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fact that you want to stay inside so much is reason enough to bring you along! Either something out there scares you, or there's something in here you want to be close to during totality! Maybe something will happen at the portal! Whatever it is you want, I don't want you to get it."

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper had gotten out of his seat and was looking uncertainly between Bill and Ford. "I'm not sure about..."

Bill's gaze snapped from Ford's face to Dipper's, and Ford could almost see the gears shifting in his head as he latched on to a more vulnerable target. "Kid. Remember when I told you there are things out there you don't want to meet? Stay inside—let me stay inside—find a good book to distract you the next couple of days, and don't worry about things you don't want to know too much about. As far as you should be concerned, this is a weather phenomenon. You don't want to dig any deeper than that. Stay. Home."

The corners of Dipper's mouth turned down. He grabbed Ford's coat sleeve and said, voice low, "Great Uncle Ford, I... I'm not sure he's lying. I've never seen Bill scared like this before. And when he told me about things in other dimensions, this gravity thing hadn't even started, so he couldn't have..."

"Unless Bill was expecting this to happen, and everything he told you yesterday was the groundwork to make us believe whatever he wants us to believe." Bill had wormed deeper into Dipper's head than Ford had realized, if it was enough to make him consider Bill's nonsensical claims. Ford should have asked more about what Bill told him yesterday. The monster could have been filling his gnephew's head with all sorts of nightmares. "Doesn't it seem a little lucky that he told you all that one day before this?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean..."

Ford glared at Bill again. "I'm not buying it. And the more you make up ridiculous explanations like 'gravitational eclipses' and 'things from other dimensions,' the more you insist that this is somehow both no big deal and incredibly dangerous just to witness, the less I believe this is anything but a patently ridiculous attempt to keep us from interfering with whatever is about to happen! And frankly, that makes me want to interfere even more!"

Bill let out a strangled laugh. "You've gotta be... If you think I'm that suspicious, how do you know this isn't reverse psychology?! Maybe I want you to take me outside!"

"Maybe you do. That's the awful thing about you, Bill: I can second-, third-, and fourth-guess everything you say, and I'll never be sure I've figured out the truth! At some point I just have to make an educated guess."

There was a knock at the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos leaned into the kitchen. "I heard furniture and anger. Is everything... uh..." He trailed off, taking in the scene—Bill on the floor backed up against the fridge, Ford crouched over him, Dipper watching anxiously. "Everything cool here?"

Ford got to his feet. "Dipper and I are going on an expedition—and unfortunately, he has to come along. Soos, do you have a spare backpack we can use for his supplies?"

"Uh, I think so—"

"Great," Dipper snapped. "This is just perfect. I've been waiting a month and a half for us to do something cool together, and when we're finally about to go on an expedition, it's ruined by him?" He gestured angrily at Bill. "He's already ruined the rest of summer!"

Bill said, "Hey, I didn't consent to this plan either."

"You shut up," Dipper snapped. "This is all your fault! You could have just left us alone, but...!" He let out a frustrated noise. He pushed past Soos out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Ah. Ford's shoulders slumped. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure where he'd misstepped in a conversation, but this time it was pretty obvious. Between this and the nearly-disastrous trip to Portland, Ford was well in the lead for Worst Grunkle of the Summer.

"Wow. You broke that kid's heart," Bill said. "Not too late to make it up to him by going back to the original plan."

Ford shot him a dirty look.

Bill shrugged. "I'm trying anything I can think of at this point!"

Ford sighed harshly, and left to follow Dipper upstairs.

Bill sat up and waited until Ford's footsteps had receded. Voice low, he said, "Questiony, listen, I need your help. Stanford's gone completely insane. You didn't see how he was ranting and raving before you got in here. Who knows what he'll do to me if he gets me alone outside the shack with only his junior sycophant as a witness—?"

Soos looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Not buying it, dawg."

Bill groaned.

####

Ford knocked, and gently pushed the kids' damaged door open a crack. "Dipper?"

Dipper grunted. He was sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, glaring down at his journal in his lap.

"Can I come in?"

Dipper grunted again. Ford wasn't being ignored, so he took that as permission to enter. He delicately sat next to Dipper and tried to figure out what to say next. (He was surprised at how firm the mattress was—and then realized the real reason he wasn't sinking as far into it as he expected.) "Dipper..."

"You don't need to say anything," he sighed. "You're right—Bill probably is up to something. If he wants to be in the shack so much, and won't give us a straight answer why, then... it's probably safer to keep him out of it." But he sounded so terribly resigned.

"All the same, I understand your disappointment," Ford said. "I'd far rather go hiking with you than with him."

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I know. I wanted this summer to be different, too." Ford sighed. "As soon as he's gone, I owe you another hiking trip."

Dipper nodded again. He mumbled, "I've never gone hiking before."

This was some way to experience it for the first time. "We could treat this like a practice round? A warm-up with lower gravity to make it easier. Next time will be a real trip—without any crises to worry about, and without Bill."

"I don't mind the crises," Dipper said. "I'm kind of used to them, actually. They're almost fun now."

In his mind, Ford knew that this was probably another thing that should earn him a Worst Grunkle award. But in his heart, he was proud of Dipper. That was an adventurer's attitude.

"It's just... I haven't been able to get away from him all summer," Dipper said. "And even when I'm avoiding him, Mabel's spending all her free time either with her friends or trying to reform him, and you're spending all your time trying to figure out how to kill him, so I barely see you two..."

And that wasn't even something Ford could blame on Bill, was it? He hadn't been spending his time trying to figure out how to kill Bill since he'd handed over the Quantum Destabilizer design to Fiddleford. He'd simply been... obsessing. Hiding and obsessing. Ford stared down at his hands guiltily. "Tell you what. As soon as this is over, we can go do—something. I don't know what yet, but we've got a couple of days to think it up. I've spent too much time underground the last few weeks, anyway. We may not be able to go on that big adventure until Bill's gone—but it's something, for now."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford nudged him. "And as long as you do have to put up with Bill for this trip... look on the bright side. Haven't you been wanting to get a crack at him without your sister around? See if you can pry out any more alien wisdom before his execution?"

Dipper huffed—but one corner of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Thanks, but I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Every time I try, he just says stuff that gives me nightmares."

"Well—consider it an intellectually broadening experience."

Dipper gave him a weak smile.

"Anyway, with a little luck, it won't be long before you'll never need to deal with him again."

####

Soos had an old Monster-Mon backpack with cracked vinyl around the straps that he hadn't used since he outgrew it in fifth grade. "Lucky I didn't throw it out when we moved. You never know when you're gonna need old stuff!"

Bill had no idea what he was supposed to take on a forced camping trip. He knew what humans took, but humans craved all kinds of material comforts that meant nothing to him. After a couple minutes staring at the bag forlornly, he stuck in a spare shirt and leggings—he doubted he'd need extra underwear or socks, right?—and the Pony Heist bedsheet he'd been using as his sole blanket the last month, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a cider six-pack, two boxes of cereal, a kazoo, and the TV remote.

"I need some first-aid supplies. In case of emergency," Bill told Soos.

"Sure, whaddaya need?"

"Bandages, painkillers, matches, and a knife."

"You got—" Soos paused, then pursed his lips at Bill disapprovingly.

Bill sighed. "Bandages and painkillers. And cold medicine. Woods get chilly."

He glanced up as he heard footsteps upstairs. Not much longer until he was dragged outside. He grimaced. "One more thing, Jesús. This is important."

"Whoa. Full-first-name important?" He stuck a bottle of cold syrup in the backpack, hit something hard, and peered in confusion at the six-pack.

"Stanford's being petty and refusing to believe anything I say, but I know you're not that stupid," Bill lied. "So listen: this thing will peak in a couple of days and then go back to normal. It's mostly harmless to humans—but once the peak has passed, gravity's coming back like that." Bill snapped his fingers. "So anyone you want to come out of this intact needs to do two things. One, the moment gravity completely disappears, they need to anchor themselves, as close to the ground as possible, before it comes back. And two, do not look at the sky. Got it?"

Soos hesitated; but then nodded. "Y-yeah, got it."

"Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good."

"So are you like... trying to protect the town now?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to cover my base. When this is all over, even if all my warnings were ignored, at least nobody will be able to say I didn't try. I could have sat on everything I know! But I didn't! And I'm going to rub. It. In. Ford's. Face." He punctuated each word with a jab to Soos's chest.

Soos endured the jabbing with a patience Bill didn't deserve. "Byyy protecting the town?"

Bill opened his mouth, reconsidered, and said, "Sure! Of course I'm protecting the town! Why would I want any harm to befall the citizens of my once and future capital?"

"I mean, no offense, but you befelled a lot of harm on us last year—"

"I did not," Bill snapped. "Everyone was perfectly comfortable in my throne of frozen human agony." He yanked the backpack's zipper shut, pulled it on, and pushed Soos aside to leave the kitchen.

Stan had stopped Ford at the foot of the stairs. "But if this is some nightmare dimension thing, isn't that just another reason not to take Bill outside? What if one of those wormholes opens up and he dives through? Maybe escaping back to his dimension will give him his power back, we don't know."

"I've considered that—but if that is what he's planning, all the more reason why he should stay with Dipper and me, so we can stop him if he tries anything."

"Are you nuts? It'll be two of you in the woods versus four of us here in the shack! We outnumber him more than you do! Plus walls and doors!"

"We have the hexed bracelets, he won't be able to escape us," Ford said.

"Aww, I get to share matching friendship bracelets with someone?" Bill gave Dipper and Ford what he hoped was his most obnoxious smile. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Scowling, Dipper raised his hand.

Bill's smile dimmed. "You are the lesser evil," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm surprised ol' Six-Fingers doesn't want to keep as tight a grip on me as possible."

"We decided that if you try to kill your bracelet partner and escape, Grunkle Ford would have a better chance of avenging me than I would have avenging him."

Bill's brows shot up. "Ruthlessly utilitarian. Was that Stanford's idea?"

Ford ignored the question, pushing on with his conversation with Stan: "And anyway, there might be more people in the shack, but none of them would be me. I know him better than anyone else."

Bill laughed hard enough that his feet momentarily lifted off the floor. "Oh do you!"

Ford's gaze shot to Bill's face, eyes blazing with fury. "You know I do. I've spent thirty years learning every trick, every lie, every betrayal that's made you who you—"

"What's my favorite food."

Ford's mouth worked uselessly. "That—doesn't matter—"

"You think you know my innermost soul when you don't even know my favorite food?"

"Favorite... human food, or...?"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a fighting chance. Human."

Ford chewed on the inside of his mouth for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Jalapeños."

Bill crossed the entryway, leaned into the hallway, and took a deep breath. "HEY, MABEL!"

From the far end of the house (where Mabel was seeing how high she could jump in the floor room), she shouted, "YEAH?"

"WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FOOD?"

"NACHOS WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE AND SUMMER-SHAPED SPRINKLES!"

Bill gestured down the hall, ta-da. "THANK YOU!"

"I was close," Ford grumbled. "Nachos have jalapeños."

Stan said, "You're not even out of the house and he's getting under your skin. Are you sure you wanna—?"

"I am not," Ford said, "leaving him in the house. And if you'd heard how he was fighting to stay under this roof, you wouldn't trust him in here either."

Stan looked at Bill.

Bill looked Stan dead in the eyes and said, "I don't know what he's talking about. I agreed to go as soon as he asked."

"Oh, shut your—" Ford snatched the bracelets off the coat rack, flung one end at Bill, and handed Dipper the other. "Put these on. We're leaving."

Bill scowled, but considered his odds of successfully resisting, reluctantly put his end of the bracelet on, and yelled down the hall, "BYE, MABEL! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED BY YOUR UNCLE AGAINST MY WILL! I MAY NEVER RETURN!"

"I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER!"

Ford opened the door and gestured impatiently. Bill took a couple reluctant steps closer, but stopped to look at Soos and say, "Remember what I said. Do not let Mabel be in the air when gravity comes back, you know if someone doesn't watch her she'll launch herself as high as she can—"

Ford snapped, "Either you walk or I drag you, Cipher."

"I'm coming." He stepped outside, paused, and cast a worried look at the sky; then squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and walked into the sunlight.

####

(That's this week's chapter! I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts. Next week: I'm gonna do my level best to shatter your hearts. Look forward to it!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #(for the chapter)#fiddleford mcgucket #(for the art)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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prince-dork-the-companion · 3 months

Text

Batfamily Presentation Night - Pizza - Cass

Masterlist

Cass: I'll go :)

Duke: Uh-oh.

Tim: Interested to see where this one goes.

Duke: Is this cheating? This feels like cheating.

Jason: When did you make this?

Cass: Before today. :)

Jason: I shouldn't be surprised.

Damian: That is a very useful visual.

Steph: I have nothing to say.

Duke: A good, hardworking employee.

Tim: We should get a cat and name it Cheese.

Damian: That is a horrible name for a cat.

Bruce: No.

Jason: Wh -

Duke: Are those turtles???

Bruce: Where did you get this image.

Cass: :)

Jason: B you have to explain.

Bruce: Cassandra.

Tim: So Bruce can have pet turtles, but when we do it's a problem? I see how it is.

Steph: Tim this is the perfect opportunity to go on your Jason Arc.

Jason: Your what?

Dick: Oh, I remember them! Those are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! They're vigilantes in New York. Super cool guys. Have a bit of an addiction to pizza, though.

Cass: And the sewers.

Dick: Yeah they live in sewers, it's kinda gross, but they're nice.

Jason: Please tell me this photo isn't in the New York sewers.

Tim: The rats, the rats... we're the rats...

Dick: Oh, that's a good one of me.

Bruce: Dick.

Dick: If you mention the rules about eating on patrol I will throw a fork at you.

Steph: Haven't we already discussed that, Bruce?

Dick: Y- WAIT!

Jason: [cackling]

Dick: So you HAVE been stealing my pizza??

[general laughter]

Steph: Why does that image look so sad...

Babs: Don't diss the deep dish.

Jason: Steph, you're not gonna say ANYTHING about the order it's in?

Steph: Nah it looks fine.

Duke: This is favouritism.

Steph: Sauce on top of cheese is a far cry from PINEAPPLE, DUKE.

Duke: It's good!!

Jason: It's not.

Jason: Wh-

Tim: Why are you so angry... What did that burger do to you...

Jason: CASS??

Cass: :)

Jason: I can't believe I have to move AGAIN.

Dick: You don't have to move every time we find your apartment.

Jason: It's called PRIVACY, DICK.

Duke: I'm unsure if I should be more concerned about what "Nemo" means or the Pinterest deck.

Jason: Pintrest deck?

Tim: [wheezes]

Dick: Nemo... does Jason eat goldfish crackers on his pizza??

Jason: GOLDFISH? Have you NEVER seen the movie finding Nemo?

Dick: I don't remember what kind of fish he is. Sorry for not having that information STORED AWAY in my brain.

Jason: It's a clownfish, Dick. Kind of like you.

Dick: I'm more of a Dory, I think.

Jason: No, you're those annoying ass seagulls.

Steph: Mine? Mine?

Cass: :)

Steph: EXCUSE ME?

Jason: Digiorno? You WILLINGLY eat DIGIORNO??

Steph: NOT ALL OF US HAVE THE TIME OR SKILL TO HARVEST AND PREPARE THEIR OWN PIZZAS, JASON

Jason: SO BUY SOME.

Dick: There's a really good pizza place on Poplar called Moe's. They give me free pizza.

Jason: Moe's is shit and you know it. I'd eat fucking Dominoes before I eat Moe's.

Dick: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Steph: Fight fight fight fight!

Duke: [wheezing]

Tim: Huh what?

Jason: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Dick: It could be worse.

Jason: I don't think it can get any worse than this. I can't believe we're related.

Babs: Y-

Dick: ANYWAYS.

Steph: Tim, you need help.

Duke: He's not the only one.

Steph: Duke, I take back everything I've said about your taste in pizza, this is a war crime.

Duke: This feels backhanded somehow.

Duke: Oh.

Jason: Hm.

Duke: I'll take it.

Steph: THREE STARS?? AND I ONLY GOT TWO???

Duke: L.

Steph: I'm going to unionize against Duke's union.

Bruce: Duke's what?

Jason: Pesto?

Cass: Hm?

Jason: Green pizza sauce. Was it pesto? Tastes like herbs, really notably the basil. It's alright. Not my favourite, but it's alright.

Cass: ...Yes. I think so.

Damian: Only four stars... what do I have to do to receive five stars?

Duke: Dude, are you trying to RIG the competition?

Dick: It's okay Dami, we tied!

Damian: I wish crush all of your pizza flavours.

Jason: There's the answer, kid.

Damian: Hn.

Duke: I smell bias.

Steph: No, no, she's got a point.

Duke: I feel enlightened. Good presentation, 7/10.

Jason: [muttering] So tired of fucking moving...

Dick: You don't have to move, little wing.

Jason: Fuck off.

Steph: I am going to hold off making my judgements but all of you know that Cass's presentation is the best.

Damian: I will go next, as mine is the objectively superior one.

TO BE CONTINUED?

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elysiansparadise · 1 year

Note

hey elysian, hope you're all well ~ do you know what synastry aspects could show one person having an inspirational or motivating affect on the other? there's this guy i went to school with who makes me feel super motivated every time i see him on socials or when we would talk back then but i can't pinpoint what aspect it could be - if it helps we're both capricorns. thanks!

Hello love! I'm doing very good, I hope you too. 🤎

Synastry: Motivational/Inspirational effect

🤎1st house overlays [especially Mars, Sun or Jupiter falling in the other’s 1st]. When there are overlays in this house, the planet person motivates you to be yourself, to explore and show your best qualities and to be proud of them. They boost your energy in an instant, they encourage you to achieve things, to celebrate yourself and to try new things. There may be similarities between the two, which facilitates understanding and empathy.

🤎5th house overlays [especially Mars, Mercury or Venus falling in the other’s 5th]. As for this house, that person can inspire you a lot on a creative level. It reminds me of those people who write poems based on someone, or draw their loved one, I think it can reflect this dynamic a lot. You feel more excited, joyful and relaxed with this person and they encourage you to achieve a little more.

🤎12th house overlays [especially Moon, Venus and Mars falling in the other’s 12th]. When someone's planets fall into your 12th house, many of the effects they have on you are unconscious, you may not be aware of them but to others it may be very apparent. As far as Moon (mainly fire and earth moons) and Mars are concerned, that person easily motivates and lifts your spirits, whereas with Venus and Moon (water and air moons), you can feel spontaneously inspired when you share moments with that person. person or, in some cases even only if you see them. I like to call it the muse overlays, because the level of inspiration is usually very high.

🤎Mars-Jupiter aspects. This one is usually very obvious, as Jupiter expands everything it touches and when it aspects someone's Mars, it makes that person feel more driven, more action-oriented, and of course, more energetic. Although both of you may feel that spark and energy surge, Jupiter person has the strongest effect. Mars person has other effects, such as making Jupiter person’s life more thrilling, interesting and dynamic.

🤎Mars-Sun aspects. These aspects are a bit more direct. Mars person has that quality of motivating and giving Sun person that push when they need it most, while Sun person makes Mars person feel more dynamic or energetic with their mere presence, it is something a little more unconscious. They seem to trust each other's qualities and make the other feel capable of achieving whatever they set their minds to, they feel confident and ambitious when they spend time together.

🤎Mars-Pluto aspects. Here the key word is power. Similar to the above, this couple makes the other feel very powerful and capable. There is mutual admiration and respect and they make the other feel that what they do is valuable and significant, that their efforts and actions are not in vain.

🤎Moon-Jupiter aspects [especially conjunction, trine or opposition]. In addition to being extremely precious and lovely aspects, the contacts between the two planets make the natives naturally put in a good mood, out of nowhere they feel the desire to create, to do and simply to enjoy. A mixture of motivation and inspiration that is mutual and both are given equally.

🤎Moon-Neptune aspects. This aspect helps more than anything to inspire the other. The Neptune person has that facility to give that hope, enlightenment and joy to the Moon person. Moon person feels that everything is possible with the other, feels more positive and seems to have more faith in life. They both understand each other's dreams and most importantly, they value them.

🤎Your 12th house ruler being strongly aspected by the other person's planets (By strongly aspected I mean that 3 or more planets aspect the ruler). This house is famous for representing inspiration, dreams and the subconscious, the fact that many of the other person's planets aspect with its ruler makes them have this effect on you, even reaching the point of having them in your mind for a long time. You think of them and immediately the ideas come to you.

🤎Your 5th house ruler being strongly aspected by the other person's planets (By strongly aspected I mean that 3 or more planets aspect the ruler). It shares similarities with the previous one, in this case it is a joy and motivation. The typical scenario where you see the person, suddenly you feel like doing/creating something, and in the process of doing it, you crack a smile when you remember them. A more creative inspiration can be attributed to it.

#astrology #astro observations #astro notes #synastry #synastry astrology #synastry chart

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journeytothewestresearch · 4 months

Note

Can you please tell me what abilities sun wukong have because am always confused about it i even hear some people says that sun wukong is omniscient and omnipresent and can control time or that he is is a boundless character

At no point in JTTW is Monkey ever depicted as a boundless character with omniscience, omnipresence, and control over time. Anyone claiming that has never read the novel. Never ever trust any online claims about Sun Wukong unless a cited quote is provided.

Having said that, I am slowly compiling a comprehensive list of all of Monkey's magical abilities and skills, complete with corresponding Chinese terms and citations. However, I am nowhere close to being done (and won't be for years), so I can only give you a general list at this time. But I will link to my past articles where applicable.

The following is based on a list I wrote a few months ago for someone looking to make their D&D campaign more authentic.

Immortality - He has six layers of immortality. But these are more like layers of invulnerability. As a "bogus immortal" (yaoxian, 妖仙) he is still susceptible to injury and death because he hasn’t yet achieved Buddha-nature and broken free of the wheel of rebirth (see note #1 here for an explanation).

Invulnerability - He has an adamantine hide that can't be pierced or hurt by earthly or heavenly weapons and elements (this doesn't count the times that he allows himself to be cut). This is thanks to all of the immortal foodstuff he had eaten in heaven being refined within his body by his samadhi fire, giving him a "diamond body" (jingang zhi qu, 金鋼之軀). Sometimes he uses this invulnerability to freak out demons by blocking a sword strike with his bald head. However, he can still be hurt. For example, he is twice wounded by special elements born from spiritual cultivation, samadhi fire and wind (the book treats cultivated and heavenly elements as two different things). Also, one villain, a scorpion demoness energized with Buddhist dharma power, is able to successfully penetrate his skin by stinging him in the face with her tail.

72 changes - He can transform into anything. The only flaw is his tail, which doesn't always change the way he wants it to. Or, a character recognizes him because of his red butt.

Cloud somersault - This allows him to fly 108,000 li (33,554 mi / 54,000 km) in a single leap. The skill is actually a metaphor for instantaneous enlightenment, for those who achieve it will immediately arrive in the Buddha's paradise.

Magic hairs - He can change any one of his 84,000 hairs into anything he wants (tools, random objects, living creatures, etc.) These include hair clones, which are autonomous copies of himself that can range into the tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, or even billions. However, he only deploys these on a small scale in the novel. He never uses the power to its full stated extent.

Super strength - His greatest feat is carrying two mountains while running "with the speed of a meteor." But there are characters physically stronger than him. For instance, Monkey cannot escape the grip of the Great Peng bird once he is caught in his powerful talons.

Martial arts - He is proficient in armed and unarmed combat, being able to go toe-to-toe with deities with centuries more combat experience than him. "Short Fist," a historical style, is listed as his preferred boxing method. But he mainly relies on his magic iron staff for fighting.

General magic - Monkey is shown capable of calling forth gods and spirits, growing or shrinking to any size, parting fire and water, creating impassable barriers, conjuring wind storms, casting illusions, freezing people in place, putting anyone to sleep, unlocking any lock, bestowing superhuman strength, bringing the dead back to life, turning invisible, changing someone's appearance, traveling to and from heaven and hell, etc.

Magic Eyes - He can see through illusions. But this isn't always portrayed consistently, for I know of several times where Guanyin fools him, and even a god of the soil, a lesser deity, is once able to do the same thing.

Medicine - He can diagnose maladies and concoct medicines to solve the issue.

You can see that omniscience, omnipresence, and control over time are not listed. I think the problem is that people are confusing Sun Wukong at two different points in his character arc. The powers listed above come from the journey itself (ch. 13 to 100). The omni-level powers would come after he achieves Buddhahood at the end of the novel (ch. 100). However, it's very, very important to know that the story ends before Sun Wukong, now the "Victorious Fighting Buddha," performs any feats (i.e. he has no feats as a Buddha). I'm sure people could assign him powers ascribed to other Buddhas in religious literature, but what happens after the story ends is beyond canon.

I hope this helps.

#Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Journey to the West #JTTW #monkey buddha #Victorious Fighting Buddha #Buddha Victorious in Strife #magic powers #People who make spurious claims about Sun Wukong need to read the fucking novel!!!#Read the fucking novel!!!#Do it!!!#Just do it!!!#Lego Monkie Kid #LMK

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scoonsalicious · 28 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sexual situations, descriptions of violence.

Word Count: 838

Previously On...: Nat revealed that Jade was a Hydra agent. You told Bucky, you kissed. He left you very confused.

A/N: IT'S TIME! THIS CHAPTER IS NUTS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The next morning, Bucky acted as though nothing unusual had happened between you two the night before, so you opted to follow his lead and pretend your mind and heart weren’t a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

You discussed mission strategy over breakfast. Or, rather, Bucky came up with a strategy and you argued with him against it.

“I’m not comfortable with you leavin’ the safehouse alone with Carthage out there,” he said as he stabbed into his defenseless scrambled eggs. “We don’t know where she is, or what she’s planning. I’m not gonna risk your safety just so you can go back to that club.”

“I’m not totally helpless, Barnes!” You waved your fork in his general direction. “Believe it or not, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself!”

Bucky shook his head, snorting a dismissive laugh. You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? You think I’m weak?”

“Never said that, doll,” he offered, putting his hands up, “but Carthage is a Hydra-trained super soldier. Even Nat wouldn’t be able to take her if she was out for blood.”

You felt the wind of your righteous indignation leave your sails, so you pouted. “I still have a gun,” you countered petulantly. “She’s not impervious to bullets.”

Bucky laughed. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, doll: where you gonna stash that gun for safekeeping while you’re out there doin’ your thing? In your g-string?”

“Yeah, alright,” you conceded, “maybe I haven’t thought that part through! But I’m not going to let some fear of her keep me from doing what I need to do in order to stop more women from being abducted!”

“I’m not askin’ you to, sweets.” Bucky put down his fork and looked at you. “I’m just askin’ that you don’t go out by yourself, don’t put yourself at any unnecessary risk, is all.” You couldn’t really argue with that; it was a sound point, after all.

“I’ve still got to do my shifts at the club,” you said. “It’s our only source of leads and I can’t just stop showing up if I want them to keep them from getting suspicious.”

Bucky crossed his arms and leaned back on the kitchen stool. “Fine,” he offered after a moment’s contemplation. “Then I’ll come with you.”

Though you’d done it for thousands of strangers before now, the idea of getting up on stage and performing a strip tease, knowing that Bucky was in the audience, made your entire body flush. “I… don’t know if that’s necessarily a great idea,” you admitted.

“Why?” Bucky’s face momentarily soured. “You worried having the Winter Soldier show up is going to blow your cover?”

You flinched at your old words being thrown back in your face. “No,” you said. “Come on, you’ve got to know the only reason I said that was because, at the time, I was so fucking angry at you, I could have ripped your dick off with my bare hands and shoved it down the garbage disposal.”

Bucky’s eyes went so wide, it was comical. “Well,” he swallowed, “that is a very disturbing and traumatizing visualization… but seeing how your rage was completely justified, I’ll just … silently carry the image with me for the rest of my life.”

You shot him a look. “Dramatic much?” you asked him. “But for real, it would feel weird, getting naked up on stage knowing you were there.”

Bucky leaned back and studied you, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen hundreds of times already, doll,” he said, voice so husky that your thighs clenched. “And from a lot more intimate angles, at that.”

You blushed and ducked your head. “Yeah,” you said after clearing your throat, “but you’ll be sharing the experience with a bunch of other drunk guys. That sound like a good time to you?”

The frown that etched itself across Bucky’s lips appeared so quickly you had to stifle a laugh. “Remind me again why you ever even agreed to take this mission in the first place,” he said, crossing his arms petulantly.

You glared back at him. “You know very well why I–”

Your phone buzzed. Picking it up from the table, you saw an incoming message from Nat. “She’s emailed me a link to the security footage she got from her KGB contacts,” you told Bucky once you’d read the message. “Clips of Carthage in the Hydra base; she’s edited the significant ones together for us.”

“Let’s see it, then,” he said, getting up and moving around to the other side of the kitchen island to stand over your shoulder.

“You sure you want to look at it?” you asked him cautiously, opening up your laptop. “I don’t want it to be triggering for you. Especially if she’s put through the same kind of shit you were.”

Bucky rested a hand on your shoulder. “Play it,” he commanded gently. “I’ll be fine.”

Casting him a final, skeptical glance, you opened Nat’s email and clicked on the link.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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sh4wty18 · 14 days

Text

makeup.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: you and johnnie are dating and decide to film a video of you doing his makeup

cw: fluff, language, suggestive but nothing major

word count: 1.5k + edited

---

“Hey guys! So today I’m here with…”

“Y/N!” you finish, slightly nervous as it’s your first time streaming alone with Johnnie.

Johnnie giggles a little, sensing your nerves. He gently squeezes your thigh under the desk, out of sight of the viewers, letting you know he’s here for you. You grip his hand in return and squeeze, and he grins in response, stating matter-of-factly, “Yes! And this is her first time streaming with me! She’s gonna do great, guys. She’s a hundred times cooler than me as it is.” he gazes into your eyes while he says this, providing you with the comfort you need to get over your fear.

The thought of thousands of people judging your every move is daunting, but you know Johnnie just wants this to be a fun experience for both of you. Plus, his fans have been wanting to see you guys interact on screen for a while now. The edits of you guys together are really cute to be fair, it’s just the sudden fame that comes with dating an internet celebrity has been… a lot. Luckily for the most part, Johnnie’s fans have accepted you with open arms, and they seem genuinely happy to see him finally in a healthy relationship.

“So today…” Johnnie starts, “Y/N and I thought it would be fun for her to do my makeup, you know, since we have such different styles and stuff.”

“Wow… that description was… enlightening” you respond fake-sarcastically, which elicits an equally fake-sarcastic eye roll from Johnnie.

“Alright let’s just get into the makeup then if my girlfriend is gonna start bullying me now…” he trails off, as you begin to laugh and grip his arm, and soon he’s unable to contain his own giggling. Even though you both share a jokingly-sarcastic sense of humor with each other, neither of you can ever get through a bit with a straight face. One of you always ends up dying of laughter and the other can’t stop from joining. Johnnie never laughed this much with anyone– other than maybe Jake. But once you guys started dating a few months ago, Johnnie’s been all smiles.

“Okay, okay!” you say, catching your breath. “So like Johnnie said, our styles are super different. He’s emo and I’m kinda just doing whatever I like at the time. So I figured I would do my typical going-out makeup look for him today.”

“I’m terrified.” he responds, “I’ve seen your going out looks… There's a lot of glitter involved. I mean you look hot but…”

“Oh you’ll be fine.” you snarkily reply, “You always look hot anyway, this’ll just… amplify your beauty!”

He laughs, “Okay… I guess I trust you, girlfriend.” Johnnie has made a habit of calling you girlfriend as much as possible. It started as a joke between you guys– pet names that is. You would call each other pookie and boo bear and stuff like that over text and in instagram comments, eliciting hilarious responses from your fans, who had fun trying to figure out if you were being serious or not. Then one day, he called you girlfriend while greeting you in one of his videos with Jake, and you called him boyfriend in response. Ever since then, you’ve been unironically using those titles for each other. You both know it’s corny, but you don’t care. You’re too in love to care. Neither of you have ever felt this deep of a connection with anyone you’ve dated. Nothing about it can be “cringe” because you’re both too happy with each other to mind.

“Um.. I would hope so, boyfriend.” You roll your eyes at him and he tilts your chin towards his face and kisses you. “Enough PDA, we have work to do!” you back away as he tries to go in for another kiss, “At least let me get started,” you smile back at him, cheekily.

“Guys did you see that? She swerved me. What the fuck? This is so unfair. My girlfriend hates me.” The chat goes crazy, most people going along with the bit and saying stuff like “how dare you y/n😔” and “nooooo she gagged him lmao💀”

“Needy, needy man” you grip his chin and peck him, “There, happy now?”

“Yes… we can start the makeup now” he grins fake-maniacally.

“Okay, I don’t use primer so we’re just gonna jump right in with concealer…”

—

“Stop, stopppp that’s enough!!!” Johnnie pleads in his raspy vocal-fry shout you’ve heard so many times before in his videos with Jake.

“We’re almost done, you’re such a fucking baby” You laugh as he blinks down on the mascara wand for what feels like the hundredth time. “Okay now all we have left is lip gloss. But I figured we could do this the fun way, since you are clearly obsessed with me and wanna kiss me so bad” You flip your hair, “I mean, as you should!”

“Alright we gotta keep this PG for the kids,” Johnnie says in one of his silly voices.

“Since when have your videos ever been PG, sir??”

“Well… I guess you have a point,” he replies, leaning in and kissing you gently on the lips. You lean into it, and hold his cheek. You both pull away after a couple seconds, not wanting to fully start making out, which is where your innocent kisses usually lead. But considering you’re on stream, maybe that could wait until the cameras were off.

You apply your favorite lip gloss to your own lips and smirk at him. He quickly catches on and says, “Oh so we’re chapstick challenging this bitch, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” you laugh, and grip both sides of his face with your hands. At first you plant your lips firmly on his, actually attempting to transfer the lip gloss directly onto his lips. But then, you start planting kisses all over his face, leaving pink sticky smudges wherever your lips decide to land.

“NOOOO!!! NOOO! HELPPP!! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY MY GIRLFRIEND. CHAT SAVE ME” Johnnie yells, gripping the sides of his desk to try and escape your grasp.

“You’ll never escape me!!” you yell, leaping out of your own chair and onto his lap, continuing to plant kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. He grabs your waist with one hand, and your neck with the other, pulling you into a real, passionate kiss. One of your hands grips the headrest of his office chair, while the other cups the base of his neck, playing with his hair.

He gasps for breath after a good twenty seconds, and you two both turn to face the camera, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “Well… sorry about that guys.” He says sheepishly, then turning to you adds, “The editors are about to go crazy on that one.”

“No for real” you respond, giggling, “I don’t mind.”

He gazes into your eyes like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved, “Me neither.” And you can’t stop yourself from grinning.

“How did I get so lucky, guys?” you ask. The chat responses have been super positive since the kiss, with comments ranging from “i feel like i’m interrupting something lol” to “the way he looks at her😭 they’re so in love omg”

“Well, now that I look like a pretty princess, I think we’re gonna call it here, guys. Thank you so much for joining the stream, and if you wanna buy my merch go to johnnieguilbert.com, oh and stream my music.” Johnnie finishes the outro and looks up at you, who is still sitting on his lap, “Anything you wanna add, y/n?”

“Ummm… I guess just that I think this was a really good first one-on-one stream, and you guys all made me feel super comfortable and welcome here, so thank you. Also, look how cute Johnnie looks! He’s so pretty with my pink eyeshadow on. You should do this more often, boyfriend.”

“We’ll see about that, girlfriend.” he giggles, “And I’m glad you felt comfortable today, you’re awesome and I love being able to make content with you. Alright, bye guys.” he switches off the camera. “You did great! Just like I knew you would. I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud, but you can’t say you weren’t expecting it. The way you act around each other, there’s no other name for it other than true, unconditional, intense love. “I love you too, Johnnie.”

You swing one of your thighs around his legs, straddling him, and he grips your ass with both hands. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans up to face you. He kisses you like you’re his lifeblood, like he needs you to survive. It’s messy, and primal, and you’re both out of breath and gasping for air, but neither of you want to stop. And in this moment, you know you would do anything to be with him like this, forever. Feeling him, tasting him, breathing him in. You’ve never felt anything quite like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever want to be with anyone else ever again. It's just you and him.

---

posted this on ao3 first, and i still have 3 more from my ao3 to repost here! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#sh4wty18 #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #one shot #fluffy one shot #fluffy #original one shot #cute #johnnie x you

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fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

Spaceship: Horizon - Season Finale: How did we get here?

Male Reader x Miyawaki Sakura & Choi Yena

Length: 2480 words

Tags: a lot of what the fucks, a lot of fucks, sudden sex, sex as a reward, threesome, friendly rivalry, blowjobs, forced deepthroat, 69, pussy eating, face sitting, snowballing, cowgirl, overstimulation, very numb, very exhausted, very confusing, commander!Sakura / dorky!Yena / puzzled!You

TW: Kinda forced with a lot of plot point coming together. Feel free to back read ;)

Inspiration: A lot of ppl wanted Kkura, other wanted Yena, and I wanted to finish one of my many plans I had for this season finale. This series is super old, hell, I don't even remember all the things I set up and names lol.

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for the late edit. Really saved some stuff, tbh. You're the best.

(A/N: FInally, we are! Season two wrapped up after HUGE holes in between lmao. A lot my newer reader might not even know this series exists lmao. This was always supposed to be my flagship, but yeah, I guess others are more well-liked. Enjoy this season finale, it (probably) won't be the last!)

“Hm! Look, he is waking up, Commander!”

“Stop calling me that, Yena! These titles are absurd.”

The ceiling above you is familiar. The cushions below you are familiar. The two do not evoke positive memories, unlike the two familiar voices that argue for a brief period of time, before they stop.

Two pairs of eyes look down on you. They sparkle in excitement and thrill—at seeing you, perhaps?

“Sakura? Yena?” you call out the two names you associate with those orbs and reach for where you assume their bodies are. Texture—an arm, a hand. This is reality and not some weird lucid dream. You have experienced enough of those in the past to be cautious, but luckily, both Sakura and Yena are real.

“Welcome back!” Yena shouts. She wraps an arm around your nape and her following hug leaves you breathless for a second, her sizable breasts for another.

“Back?” you respond, mildly confused, although it is nothing new to you that this girl says random shit again and again without explaining herself.

“Aw, Commander, look at him! He is a literal war hero and doesn’t even know it.”

Yena giggles, thus Sakura gives her a quick slap on the butt. It was certainly not a kind slap, but the idol does not look angry at all. The excitement and amusement do not disappear from her. It’s all absurd. It would all make more sense if you died and went to heaven. No more aliens that want you to record porn, just the weird, dorky, sexy guide from the spaceship and your favorite idol. Sounds like heaven, alright.

“War hero? Damn, I can’t even remember the battle I fought, but it explains why I’m dead.”

Sakura shakes her head.

“Yena, please, this poor guy is completely lost. Enlighten him about everything he asks for. We got the time.”

Yena suddenly straightens her posture. Like a news anchor delivering important, serious information, she tries to stare at you, but her attempt fails. Her laughter echoes off the walls and through the large room. She repeatedly slaps her thigh in loud amusement. Sakura looks pissed.

“Yena! Get your act together!”

“But how would you tell him? It sounds so weird when I try to put it into words!”

“Weird?” you say confusedly. “Nothing can be weird to me now. We are on a fucking spaceship with aliens that can shapeshift and want to film us have sex.”

Yena laughs again. “Oh boy, about that!”

Sakura, visibly at the end of her patience, plants an angry hand on the younger girl's mouth. She glares at her, then at you, and says with a bit of resignation:

“All of the things you just said—they changed. A lot.”

“Huh? How so?” you say while giving looks to both of the girls and their banter. If they weren’t so cute, you’d cringe at their behavior.

“A couple of weeks ago,” Sakura begins as she still suffocates a teary-eyed Yena with the palm of her hand, “we found ways to communicate with other parts of the spaceship. It is absolutely gigantic, we still have no idea how big it actually—Yena, stop it now, please—is. A couple hundred kilometers in each direction, probably. At first we thought it was a trap, that these intelligent creatures would not allow us to meet up in secret and share information. But then, we found the reason: all of them were watching your videos. Every single one of them.”

“What do you me—please, no!”

Your fingers dig into your hair. It feels sweaty, greasy, and definitely unwashed, the new stress is not helping either. Your pornography spread further than you would have imagined. If these aliens saw it, then other people saw it too. The size of this ship makes you imagine that potentially millions of humans could have seen you naked and get it going with dozens of women. Well, there goes your reputation, even if you ever return to Earth.

“Listen to her, she is not finished,” Yena says with a large grin on her ducky facial features. She places a caring hand on your shoulder, while Sakura places a not-so-caring-but-rather-threatening-hand on hers.

“Don’t interrupt me, please.”

“I won’t, Commander.”

“I said you—never mind. Anyways, these aliens were addicted to the porn, the sex. Something about it made them lose focus. They became sloppy and made mistakes that left holes for us to not only be able to communicate with more and more people, we also made plans to get more information about this place and how we could use this addiction to our advantage.”

“Maybe you noticed it too,” Yena barges in. “Some aliens—especially your Worker—must have been very affected by it. Being irrational, less caring, all that kinda stuff.”

You nod. He certainly was affected. Uncontrollable, maniacal, not paying attention, getting desperate for more material, Worker became a junkie for your fucking porn.

Your mind spins at the thought. Where the hell is this leading up to?

“Just a couple of days ago,” Sakura continues with intensity, her eyes wide open, “we were able to throw away all our strategies and battle plans. The aliens started to evaporate. At first we thought it was a trick by them and that they figured it out, but then we got reports that they probably died due to an overdose of your porn. We knew their deaths, or rather obliteration, was inevitable. And so we watched them evaporate, one by one, and we took control of their positions. We found all kinds of young people held as cattle, tortured as slaves or being forcefully fed food. Not all of the experiments were cruel of course, but I think everyone is delighted that this shit is over.”

Sakura takes a deep breath and pinches her forehead. Her rambling wasn’t all that coherent, but she got the point across to you, which is—

“So… we won?”

Your question lingers in the air for a bit. The smell of sweat and some fine perfume reaches your nose for the first time since you woke up from your slumber. The mattress below you feels wet, your legs are still kind of numb.

Oh, it must have been them who gave you the drug. They wanted you to film the ultimate video to finish the aliens off. The pieces of the puzzle are slowly coming together, but the picture couldn’t look any more bizarre.

“Yes!” Yena exclaims and lunges herself at you. Her entire body presses onto yours, from thighs, to tummy, to titties. Yena doesn’t seem to care that you’re all sweaty. She looks genuinely happy. It feels great, this feeling of victory, of freedom, Yena pushes it all onto you.

“After we live streamed your holy-moly-crazy-orgy to the last remaining aliens, they all evaporated.”

“It sounds so stupid,” you giggle and shake your head, “but I guess I’m glad. I bet there are still so many insane things that happened. No need to tell me now, to be honest, I’m not sure I understood the things you already told me. But can I at least know why you didn’t tell me about it?”

“So it didn’t look forced,” Sakura says with the attempt of a wink, “We had no clue if you would have been able to perform under pressure if you knew what was at stake. We also like to keep these top secret issues in a small circle.”

“Damn, you all sound like the CIA.”

Yena rubs her cheek on yours as she gives another hearty laugh.

“Our guerilla group really developed into a whole organization. It’s gotten even worse during the three days you were asleep.”

“Wait, what?” you groan defeated. Another three days of life missed for something you can’t grasp yet. And what the hell do they mean by organization? The questions don’t stop coming.

“Don’t worry!” Sakura flails her arms as she shifts closer to you as well, “We used the Helper system to keep you hydrated.”

“Wait, how? I don’t—”

“We have some smart people among us,” Yena says, her lips pouty, for some reason, “They were able to hack into the system, which is why we can communicate and use the Helpers to our benefit. Communication, water, food, hell, even teleportation. These things are amazing.”

“I—”

You stare at the ceiling. It’s the same, it’s been the same, it has not changed.

Your eyes open to the possibility that this is all fake, a dream to make you feel better. It’s a simple explanation for the absurdity tenfolding with every word the girls say. But can it be true? A dream this realistic and detailed, with all the right changes?

Wait, maybe you really died a war hero and this was your reward. Like in those old, ancient stories—your brain is coming full circles. Damn this drug, damn this fucked up spaceship.

“—cannot understand, but I guess it’s fine.”

Silence, then the two girls giggle.

“Yes, it’s basically long story short,” Yena blurts out, “You fucked, fucked up things happened, the Aliens are fucked and we won. Everything is fine.”

Take a deep breath through your nostrils. The air still feels real, the wetness on your skin too, but most importantly, Sakura still smells as good as she did back then. You’re not dead, thank God, and apparently a porn star war hero, thank God?

“Okay, whatever,” you respond and force your upper body into a sitting posture, “Can I please take a shower now? I smell of sweat and… other, more obscene bodily fluids.”

“Not so fast,” Sakura responds and sits down on your legs. Fuck, they are still numb, you can’t even fiddle them out underneath her light body.

“Let me in on it too, Commander!” Yena shouts and climbs next to you. She begins to pull at your shirt, while Sakura wiggles out your pants from under your butt.

“What the—hey stop! We don’t need to film anything anymore, right?” you fight back with words, while your body surrenders immediately.

“You are right,” Sakura says as your cock springs free, already semi-hard, “No cameras. This is just for you, your reward.”

It might not be the first time that your favorite idol has taken your cock into her mouth, but there is something absolutely incredible about this time. She, the Sakura, is literally some Commander that gives a guinea pig porn star head for winning a war against shapeshifting aliens—oh yeah, and there is Yena, rubbing her now exposed breasts on your arm as her ducky lips suck your neck. It’s impossible to let that sink in.

You moan out in pleasure. It’s a miracle that your cock still works after what happened during the last session. Then again, it is Sakura who uses her skilled tongue and lips to make you hard and throbbing.

Judging from Yena’s annoyed hums on your ear as she nibbles on it with great care, she feels neglected. Suddenly, one of her tits is in your mouth so you lazily suck on the hard nipple. Sakura hisses from in between your legs, your cock still in the warmth of her mouth. She stops sucking and jerks you off to properly address Yena.

“What are you doing? This is his reward, not yours! You can’t use him like your plaything.”

“Oh stop it, Commander! I know you want to ride his cock badly and cum on it like the needy bitch you always were while we watched the vi—”

“Fine, shut up!”

Through their bickering, they don’t seem to realize the mess of moans and whimpers you have become. Yena’s soft breast firmly placed in your mouth leaves your mind numb yet blissful, while Sakura’s hand goes up and down your cock at high speed. It’s like she is electrically charging you, to the point where you might explode. Why the fuck does a foreign hand feel so much better on your length than your own?

“Gimme some of that too,” Yena says and leaps at your crotch. At one moment, her chest was all you could see, the next moment it’s her pink pussy, hovering above your face.

Lips on your tip make you beg for mercy, but the two don’t have any. Sakura pushes down on the back of Yena’s head and you unexpectedly penetrate her face deeply. Your entire cock disappears in her mouth and she slobbers all over it. A mix of saliva and lipstick covers your sweaty legs..

“Ye-Yena, K-Kura, I can’t—”

“You don’t like it?” Sakura asks, her tone missing seriousness entirely.

“No, I—fuck!”

Throw your head back as Yena moves. The warmth of her throat is gone and back again as soon as Sakura allows it. The idol is thrusting her friend—or are they just rivals—onto your shaft ferociously. Because of Yena’s firmly placed knees next to your shoulders, you are unable to stop them. All there is is your climax. Resign to it.

“Fuck, I c-can’t, hmpf!”

As the two girls work together to suck out your semen, Yena bluntly drops her cunt onto your lips, its scent a bewitching perfume to make you forget the pain of your overstimulated dick. She tastes delicious, her nectar drips into your groaning, gasping mouth.

“My turn, finally!”

Yena pulls her stuffed mouth away, but your twitching, probably completely red cock doesn’t stay cold for long as Sakura lifts herself up and after a long hum goes down on your length, it bottoms out with ease, and your mind shuts off.

“So good!” Sakura screams and starts to ride you with no regards to your exhaustion or obvious overstimulation. Her body, flawless skin, flawless proportions, flawless everything, is uncontrollably fast yet she still finds a way to make it a show. Somehow, she is able to lift one of Yena’s legs high to give you a view of what is to come (granted, through Yena’s slick and suffocation, your eyesight is a bit dazed) and then pulls the cum-stuffed duck into a messy kiss.

It’s not snowballing, it’s an avalanche. Cum drips from their loosely connected lips and tumbles down Sakura’s curves. Weird sucking and licking sounds fill the room as Yena tries to drink your whiteness before Sakura can steal it. The two girls fight and Yena continues to ride your face to not be outdone by the eager Sakura. You feel the remaining snow drip down on your tense torso, but they are eager to lick it off of you.

This drags on for minutes, until their mix of pants, teases, giggles and actual words are only feral moans. In the confines of Sakura’s cavern, you survived the overstimulation and are ready for another release and possible death if the horny idol doesn’t stop afterwards. Luckily, she seems close as well. Yena also starts to rub her own clit frantically, more and more of her juice covers your features.

The moment you all cum is surprisingly silent. There is a gasp here and there, wet smooches from fucking and face riding, but other than that, you all succumb to your release rather quietly. Sakura fucks your rod and it’s erupting seed deep into her cunt, while you make sure to open up for Yena to dump her fresh nectar into you.

Wait a minute. Whose reward was this supposed to be again?

(A/N2: maybe mine? 😉😳)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #girl group smut #izone smut #le sserafim smut #lesserafim smut #sakura smut #yena smut

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doumadono · 4 months

Note

I can’t help but wonder if getting raped may fix your fetishization of rape in fan fiction

Well, congratulations on picking the perfect day to unleash your words of wisdom – right smack in the middle of my super colossal meltdown! Let me assure you, your pearls of wisdom are about as impactful as a pebble in a storm. Frankly, I couldn't care less about your feeble attempts at being rude🙃 It seems this day was hell-bent on proving it couldn't get any worse, and yet here we are, with your lovely contribution! Nice try, little coward.

First, congratulations on your attempt at a shockingly tasteless wish of rape to someone you don't know or basically any other human being. It's a real low blow, but hey, it's clear that empathy isn't exactly your strong suit. Do I care? Not in the slightest, just like you don't give a damn, apparently.

Let's address your second point now. Despite your attempt to throw a punch below the belt, your cheerful wish does precisely squat to me. I've faced real-life horrors – raped four times and subjected to prolonged sexual abuse – so your feeble attempt at being edgy doesn't even register 😀

Moving on to your feeble attempt to school me on what constitutes a fetishization of rape. Allow me to enlighten your minuscule, underdeveloped intellect. Sexual fantasies, including those of domination, are commonplace and, shockingly, a normal facet of the human sexual experience. Writing about it can be therapeutic for survivors, providing an outlet to cope with trauma, so it is for me. But, of course, such nuances are lost on your pea-sized brain.

Indulging in the allure of taboos is an art, and I proudly confess to being captivated by it. Let's be crystal clear — I can effortlessly distinguish between fiction and reality, and my appreciation for certain taboos in written works doesn't translate into endorsing real-life abhorrence. I'm well aware of societal norms, and just because I relish in the darker aspects of storytelling doesn't mean I endorse such behavior in real life. It's all part of the "exhilarating cleansing experience for me – the brutalization, the power play, the utter helplessness – it's a dynamic I find rather enthralling (perhaps it's solely due to the trauma I went through.)

Now, let's address the elephant in the room — non-con/rape/the broader dark content spectrum - it's not everyone's cup of tea, and that's perfectly acceptable! For those of us who revel in the fantasy, we embrace it and express it through our writing. Simple equation: don't like it = don't read it. It's that straightforward. If you willingly dive into a properly tagged story, you assume the responsibility for your choice. No need to harass or question authors about their motivations; you ventured into this realm at your own risk. Now, kindly take your judgment elsewhere. Dziękuję i pozdrawiam, mały tchórzliwy chuju 💜

I'm tagging @dabislittlemouse - I noticed you received a similar anonymous message today. It seems like someone is deliberately targeting creators of dark content. Again.

#asked and answered #come on #don't be such a coward #come off anon darling ♥#I'm waiting #rude anon #dark content #anonymous

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Text

Time and Tines (1/3)

Plans (see series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader for @sweeterthanthis's Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge

Can’t change the way we are, One kiss away from killing. —Bishop Briggs, River

Summary: Steve meets the mysterious woman staring at him from across the room.

Warnings for vague injuries, mention of needles, manipulation/brainwashing, SEMI-DARK fic (like I've read worse but it ain't sunny, folks). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. This work has heavy themes unsuitable for minors. There is plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist if this is not your cup of tea! WC 3.6k

The event isn’t overly loud, but the lights are lower and he is surrounded by people. Steve isn’t fond of crowds, not when he’s not working, not when the event is actually meant to be fun for him. He isn’t Captain America right now. He isn’t the center of attention. He isn’t bothering to mingle. Instead, he’s chosen to humor a long-winded medical rant from the Avenger’s resident doctor of the past half-year.

Salvatore Avani enlightens Steve on several ways he can assess and replicate Erskine’s serum without taking a drop of any super soldier’s blood. It would be an interesting project if Steve hadn’t heard it all before, over and over, from every hopeful doctor and scientist to cross his path. At least Steve gets to be out of his suit for a while and…in another suit, though this one is significantly more forgiving to his stance and skin.

“You see, Captain, your strength can be wielded for so much more than fighting. It could give safety and security to people working unmechanizable jobs,” Dr. Avani points out.

“Not sure that’s a word, sir, but I understand.” Steve swirls whisky around in his tumbler, ice long melted, and wishes—not for the first time—that alcohol still had an effect on him. “A certain amount of modernization does protect those same workers from danger…and no one had to be dosed with anything,” he concludes before emptying the glass in hand.

As Avani opens his mouth to retort, a weight lands on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Doc,” Bucky interrupts, “just a quick word.”

“Of course, gentlemen.” The doctor turns back around to the bar to order himself another cocktail.

Bucky leans to whisper in Steve’s ear.

“So, punk, we got a situation at three o’clock.”

His whole body tenses, which doesn’t look all that different because Steve has excellent posture, but he deposits the finished glass on the counter and looks over his right shoulder past his friend.

Eyes. Intense and focused eyes meet his before darting down. A few people meander in the space between but you’re all Steve can see for a long moment.

“There it is,” Bucky mutters in recognition.

“Did you just make me look at a dame across the room?” Steve runs a hand over his freshly shaven law and hisses. “Jerk.”

“Uh, that dame’s been staring at you for a solid twenty minutes, but you weren’t noticing. You’re welcome.”

Steve lowers his head, suppressing a grin as best he can and glancing again to his right.

You’ve turned away. You’re fiddling with a glass of clear, bubbly liquid. Vodka soda? Gin and tonic? Those are Steve’s first guesses, but he can’t tell which since both lemon and lime wedges float above the ice.

“Two of whatever she is having,” Bucky asks the bartender helpfully, clapping a pat of encouragement on Steve’s back.

The man behind the bar gives a quizzical look and then shrugs.

Buck winks at him as Steve heads for your high-top table. No one else stands around you. No rings on the hand beside your drink. No way you don’t know he’s coming over even with your eyes down.

“Hi, mind if I join you?”

You smile without looking up. “Only if you brought gifts.” Your voice is small, a little shyer than Steve would expect from someone brazen enough to watch him that long from afar, but he sets his offering on the table anyway.

“I do,” he replies softly, matching your tone, “although what it is is a mystery to me.”

Still smiling, you drain your original glass quickly and confess, “Sierra Mist.”

Steve sucks air through pearly white teeth. “Yikes. More of a 7-Up man myself.”

“Go figure. Captain America has brand loyalty.”

He fails to stop the burst of laughter punched from his chest. It doesn’t scare you though. He’s actually pleased it seems to relax you. He sets his own hand on the table approximately an inch from yours.

“Touché.”

A faint tremor rolls through that hand but stops after you make a fist and release it.

Steve just starts saying random things that come to mind, and shockingly, it works.

Conversation flows for while as he notices that your dress straps don’t stay put very well and there is a barely visible seam at your hairline. Why you would need to wear a wig, he has no idea. He finds himself almost compelled to say your natural hair is perfect, just like you.

And this is why Steve doesn’t let himself out much.

During one comment regarding the other guests, he sneaks a peek over at Bucky—still beside Avani—and is flashed a thumbs up which he immediately hopes you did not see.

Chatting continues.

Steve isn’t a good flirt, but it seems he’s getting lucky with little lines tonight. He’s willing to push his luck.

“Well, after all this sweetness, maybe we should dance off some energy.” Yet sugar, like alcohol, has no discernible effect on Steve Rogers.

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I’m a miserable dancer.” You lift your bejeweled clutch up alongside your lemon-lime soda. “Besides how would I carry it all?”

“Well, if they’d make dresses with fuller skirts like they used to,” Steve teases, pushing his half-full glass aside, “you wouldn’t have that problem. The world regressed that way. Real shame.”

“Not a fan of form-fitting gowns?” you cock your head with wide eyes.

Steve’s gaze snaps to his shoes, hoping to choke off the heat rising in his cheeks. It only chokes his words. “Oh, oh god, no. They’re lovely. I meant, ya know, pockets and…I just—I didn’t want anything to stop you.“

“Me neither.”

You take him in with warm assessment and one last evaluation of the room, tucking your lip between your teeth briefly. “You’re in luck,” you add with a laugh. “I’m about to blow your mind, Captain.”

He watches you open the clasp, fish around inside the tiny bag—barely an envelope, really, but Steve learned from Natasha that ladies can hold a scary amount in those things,— and pull out a silvery length like a party trick from the minuscule confines. The new strap allows you to toss the purse over your shoulder.

You present the transformation like it’s a superpower.

“Nifty,” Steve coos.

You nod an acceptance of his awe. “I am nothing if not prepared.”

“And now—“ he offers his hand again “—out of excuses. Bucky tells me I am ‘a sight to behold’ and not in a good way. Shall we prove him right in solidarity?”

You head to the open floor, guided by Steve’s lead. “Not gonna try to prove him wrong?”

He swings you around to face him. “How would I always win as Cap if I bet like that?”

You hum while Steve settles a hand over the satin at your waist. “Picking your battles, huh?” Free and delicate hands land at his shoulders before one smooths down his sleeve, your eyes never leaving his. “And I’m a fight waiting to happen?”

He gets lost for a few bars until he shows his true colors and winces.

“Well, my toes are fighting with yours, clearly.”

But you simply laugh.

Steve’s brain turns over the steps and his apologies and then finally lands on a good line way after the fact. “Or, no, wait, I’ve got it now.” He squares his shoulders a little more and deepens his voice, comically.

“You’re worth fighting for.”

The snort huffed in his face is perfect, the grin that splits your painted lips over shiny white teeth blinding and well worth his efforts.

“Oh wow. See!” He earns a featherlight slap to the chest. “You do have your charming moments, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve, please—“ he fakes leading you off the floor “—and could we go repeat that in front of—“

“—the extremely grumpy man gripping a beer bottle?” Your sights land across the room toward the bar. “I don’t know, Steve. Your critic looks pretty…something.”

Steve frowns when he sees Bucky. As his friend speaks with Dr. Avani, Bucky’s face pinches solid as stone, overly serious beside the doctor’s casual body language. Buck indeed looks pissed for no reason.

Steve squints in apology. “He’s not—that’s just—I promise he’s not like that—“

Where’s that teasing joy from a minute ago?

He contemplates that still when your hands release him, and his focus snaps back.

“I need to use the ladies’ room anyway,” you shrug, rubbing a palm up and down your bare arm.

“And then fireworks?” Steve inserts hopefully, almost removing his suit jacket right then to drape over your shoulders. He sounds like an excited schoolboy, and he’s again glad that Bucky is far enough away not to know how obvious he’s being.

You smile, a graceful tug at the dark, matte lipstick sculpted over your full—Rogers. Then a little nod is all you offer before turning to the hall, bag bouncing at your hip on its magic chain.

Steve watches you go, meandering over to Bucky while glancing in your last known direction, until his friend grunts to get his attention.

Avani is gone, but Buck’s face remains sour.

“What on earth did Doc say? Some intel for a mission?” Steve’s only half-curious and fully-distracted though.

His friend just waves off the mood. “Where’s your girl?”

“She’s not…” Steve shakes his head.

“Fine. Where’s your girl for the night?” Bucky raises one eyebrow.

“You know that sounds even worse now than it did back then, right?”

“Well?” Bucky looks around inquisitively.

“Powder her nose—” Steve smirks with rosy cheeks “—then watching the light show.”

He gets a solid smack between his shoulders and a proud nod.

Steve tries to remain patient, he really does, but after a few minutes and nearly every guest settled into their own viewing spot across the long balcony, he checks back over his shoulder.

Nothing.

He excuses himself from Bucky’s side and wanders toward the hallway.

Yes, he knows he’ll look too interested and a bit stalker-esque, but he doesn’t want to miss the show—he doesn’t want you to miss the show with him. There’s gonna be this beautiful display in the sky and you’ll be engrossed enough that he can just look at the changing colors glow across your…

What?!

Around one corner of the wall, Steve sees a foot, one shiny, brown men’s dress shoe, and then another. Someone’s kneeling—shaking if rolling toes are any indication—and then there you are standing over him.

“Doctor Avani?” Steve croaks, watching you raise a syringe and needle high over the man’s head.

You ignore Steve’s arrival.

The doctor’s eyes don’t break from you as he shrieks, “Captain, she’s mad. She—“

“How dare you? Bastard,” you bite out, heaving your weapon at the doctor’s exposed throat as Steve lunges forward.

It punctures the thick, luxurious navy fabric of Steve’s suit, and he feels the slight swelling pressure of liquid entering his forearm.

You release your grip, eyes wild and teeth bared. Gone is the sweet and serene woman with whom he shared a drink and danced.

The syringe stays lodged in Steve’s flesh as he pushes the doctor aside to shield him, but it’s too late for you.

Bucky followed behind him and now wraps your arms behind your back while you struggle to inch toward Avani, spitting insults.

“What was it?” Bucky demands. “What’s in there? What poison?”

Steve rips the needle out, checking it for any clues.

With a scowl, your fierce gaze stays on the doctor.

“Ask him. It’s his brand of suffering.”

Steve watches behind the two-way mirror for a while, deciding how to approach you. After chatting with you for the better part of an hour at the event, he still knows absolutely nothing about you. Every single piece of your preliminary file is news to him. He has to start from scratch, which is, ironically, what you are trying to do to the seam of your wig when he finally enters the interrogation room.

“Tea or water?” Steve sets down the cups.

You stop fidgeting for a beat. “Water is fine. Thank you.”

Polite. You stabbed him with a needle, injected him with an unknown substance, and you’re polite about it? He doesn’t understand the nonchalance. If you meant to kill Dr. Avani, then why aren’t you upset that you failed?

With your hands cuffed and the chain laced through a handlebar built into the table, it’s an awkward strain on your neck. You shove your shoulder high and pulse your head back and forth. Your wrists are thin, thin enough that one good, hard pull might actually snap one.

Polite and uncomfortable. Steve figures showing some courtesy might loosen your tongue.

He unlocks the cuffs and places the water in easy reach, keeping the tea for himself.

He sits and you sip. It’s peaceful when it shouldn’t be.

Avani has no clue who you are or what you want, but Steve couldn’t get many answers during the chaos that ensued after your attack. His own heart rate skyrocketed for a few minutes before normalizing. Otherwise, he’s fine.

He tilts the tea in your direction.

“Here’s hoping you didn’t waste truth serum on me,” he cheers. “Might be the only drug completely useless both after and before Erskine’s formula.”

You’re amused, a smirk lifting fading, dark lips. “Ah yes. Good, honest Captain America.”

“To a fault.”

“No.” Your seriousness stops him cold, and Steve’s smile fades. “It’s not a fault. You’re just rare.”

You value honesty. He can work with that.

“Is that why you chose a drug specifically for the doctor? You didn’t want to harm anyone else, even by accident?”

That shuts you down instead. Steve’s jumped too far, too fast. He’s not allowed to use the same easy tone as before this mess. Maybe he should have found some 7Up…

Silence descends until broken by your heavy swallows of water.

You’re staring down at your reflection in the table’s surface.

“I love stainless steel,” you mutter to no one in particular. “It’s like diffusion. I almost look normal.”

“You mean because you look different?” Steve pulls out your ID found in that small purse. “Why don’t you look ‘normal?’”

You shrug, finally dislodging the precarious strap and it dangles down your arm. “Lost weight.”

“And the hair?”

He was right. Your natural hair in the photo is beautiful. Why the hell are you wearing a wig? If it were obscuring your identity, he imagines you would know not to carry around a real ID.

“Time” is your only answer.

You’re skirting around the truth, lying by omission, waiting for the exact right questions which Steve doesn’t know yet, so he asks something for peace of mind, something that will tell him how long to play this game. “Are you gonna be honest with me?”

Your answer comes easily enough. “Are you gonna be helpful to me?”

Simple. Straightforward. Cutting. It’s said with sorrowful eyes.

He can’t promise anything when he doesn’t know why. “If your purpose is to kill a man then, no, I can’t help you with that.”

Your empty cup lands on the table with a light tonk.

“Maybe I’ll wait until someone who can help walks through that door.”

“In this situation, I believe I’m what’s known as the ‘good cop,’” Steve sighs. “Don’t think you want to dance with the ‘bad cop.’ He’s pretty annoyed he didn’t peg you for an assailant first.”

Nothing about your demeanor changes, not a flinch, not a blink. “Good thing I don’t want to dance with him.”

“He’s not much of a talker either. I’d be a better—“

“I didn’t say I’d talk to him either.”

Steve leans on his elbows, splaying wide across the table. “Just tell me your story. I am here to listen.”

“That makes this sound like a first date.”

“Bucky would likely agree—“ he snorts “—and he’d make a point to say this is going about as well as any date I’ve been on this century. Please,” Steve tries again, “ talk to me.”

There’s a long pause. Your intense gaze remains steady. Whatever your reasons, they don’t strain your moral fortitude. You are a believer, faithful to this unknown cause.

Carefully, quietly, you respond. “It’s not my story to tell. Ask your doctor.”

“If it’s not your story, where are the others? Can they tell it? Are they alive?”

Steve is more perceptive than you counted on judging by your slight head shake.

You flop yourself backward in the seat.

Steve was right. It’s not a what you act for, it’s a who. And they are dead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says earnestly.

This—that simple sentiment—gets the greatest reaction so far. Your lip twitches, and you shimmy against the hard chair. You scratch at your wig again, before your focus returns to the table. There are tears welling in your eyes.

No one has said that before now, he realizes. How long has it been since they passed? Why are you the only mourner? Why aren’t you moving on?

Suddenly, irritation stirs in Steve, and he can’t believe how stubborn you’re being when he is your best option. He is the only one that will have this soft spot for you, the only one who truly wants to help because he truly wants to know why.

“So you’re avenging,” he bursts, tossing his arms out, dramatically looking around the bland room.

Protocol dictated they take you to the nearest precinct for questioning. Only if you were enhanced, only if you had special abilities would you be transported all the way to the compound. So on his night off, while attending a party that actually entertained him for once, you’ve shown up with a syringe that doesn’t do anything and made him miss the fireworks. You’ve made him lose time being content, a rare gift in his line of work.

Steve is frustrated, to say the least. He stands to pace his side of the table.

“Avenging, huh? Gosh, I wish I knew anything about that… anyone in this building even… wherever will we find someone who understands?”

“You don’t do sarcasm very much, do you?” you snip, energy level remaining low compared to his spiked bluster. “I’d like to tell ‘bad cop’ what a terrible dancer you are now. He’s not going to be surprised you made me cry, is he? That’s probably normal, too.”

“Surprised? No.” Steve knocks on the mirror, sick of playing, sick of being wrong, sick of choosing unwisely. “How could he be when he’s been listening this whole time?”

You’re trapped, but you aren’t acting like a caged animal. Something is…off, and Steve realizes he’s too close to the situation—ridiculous as that may be—after just two hours of knowing you. His best friend will have better luck.

Bucky opens the door a few seconds later, armed to the teeth as an intimidation tactic.

It’s disconcerting that your expression brightens once a man sporting three guns and—counting the hidden few—eight knives enters the room. That’s got Steve’s attention.

“So she’s giving you trouble?” Bucky mutters.

He’s grateful Buck doesn’t go the ‘you sure can pick ‘em, Rogers’ or ‘better luck next millennium’ route. Steve shakes his head.

You itch at your wig, face twisted, and glance up at Steve.

“May I take this off?”

Still polite. The niceties are actually making his blood boil at this point because he does not get it yet.

“Fine,” he snaps, rolling his eyes when Bucky purses his lips at Steve’s tone.

“Listen, doll, I think the best course of action is to let you stew in here for a while. When you’re ready to tell us what you know, then—“

“Oh, I can tell you what I know now,” you say casually, pulling out bobby pin after bobby pin to tuck between your teeth. “I know the protocol for a low-level threat like myself is the nearest local law enforcement facility, I know that—due to an unfortunate instance of food poisoning from a birthday cake earlier today—most of this precinct is empty. I know that all three of you would prefer to incapacitate your targets rather than kill them.”

You set the little pile of pins down on the table by your undone chain, pulling a hair comb from the back of your wig to finally release it.

“There’s only two of us here,” Steve says in confusion.

“No.” You point the forked hair comb at Bucky and push yourself out of the chair. “Winter’s in there.”

Before the words can even register, you slam the tines of the tuning fork against the edge of the steel table. The noise is piercing and specific.

Steve covers his ears, but Bucky doesn’t move. He can’t turn away from you.

“Restrain him,” you order, “and get me out of here.”

“Buck, wait—“

The vibranium arm threatens to crush Steve’s windpipe as the force slides him up the mirrored wall.

The Winter Soldier’s cold, vacant grey eyes watch as Steve’s vision fades to black, and Steve wonders how the hell he could be so wrong.

Then it’s quiet and he wonders no more.

A/N: This story is a doozy, gang, but I promise, explanations are ahead!

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[Main Masterlist]

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #villain!reader #bittersweet symphony writing challenge #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america angst #time and tines

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idlesana · 1 year

Text

fairy of shampoo

sana x reader ; fluff

summary: your manager decides you need to teach the new coworker the ways of your job. only issue is the new hire is drop dead gorgeous and almost inevitable to fall for

"so, y/n," your manager started, eyes trailing from you to graze over the neatly stapled packet of papers in front of him. his eyes flicked from separate parts of the first page, before licking his lips-- in more of a focused manner-- and readjusting his gaze.

you'd been confused since you walked in. you were a good worker, maybe even the best here, and hadn't done anything "talk" worthy.

that's why you were shocked to feel a tap on your shoulder by your boss mid serving a table-- talk about embarrassing.

"hey, we need to-"

"ah!"

was your last exclamation before spiling waters all over some new elderly guests.

maybe that was fire worthy and your boss tapping you was just a test of reflexes in the workplace. or not.

your boss seemed to of noticed your haze as you spaced out into thoughts of earlier, a light flush of embarrassment flushing your cheeks for the second time around.

he, or rather, soobin, cleared his throat.

soobin, your boss of however long now. he seemed a bit young to be running the shop, especially for its current size and reputation, but he explains it as his "dad suddenly abandoning all business projects to move to maui with his new fiancé and leaving him to handle everything".

"listen, we have a new worker joining the team." he said, adjusting in his seat to make his posture more prim. he sniffed, clearly looking for more words as he let his eyes space out on his office decor.

you looked at him with a raised brow and squinted eyes, wondering what he was getting at.

you'd never trained a new hire before-- it was always one of the other, more experienced guys. also guys who'd been giving walk throughs of the job to every new hire. it was routine at this point.

"she's,"

there it is. your expression relaxed, slumping back into the stiff office chair across from his desk.

the word 'she' was enough to enlighten you. you were the only other girl who worked dining hall, if that's what this mystery girl was going for, she'd be bombarded by some teen boys who'd never really touched a woman. or even really seen one for that matter.

"she's super pretty, like i asked her if she came from a modeling agency and she laughed at me. and her laugh, so melodious, so congenial-"

"soobin."

"sorry. but you get my point! not even i can stop thinking of her, imagine those 18 or 17 year old dweebs that-"

"soobin."

"sorry. shouldn't have said dweebs, informal. those... degenerates that've never spoke to women. i mean look they drool over you all the time! imagine them trying to teach some lady i thought was a model! and she's flirty too. bad."

"soobin. one, don't say degenerates. as funny and true as it is this isn't exactly workplace vocabulary. two i bet the flintiness was the delusion seeping into your brain and corrupting it with false hearings." you sighed, fingers now pinching the bridge of your nose, unsure of how your boss could be so, so ridiculous sometimes.

"she was flirting! she said i looked good in a suit." soobin 'hmped' clearly taking some offence to these accusations.

"whatever you say. what's her name and when do i need to get started."

"friday, five pm. her name is sana."

"what?!" you almost yelled, at least it felt that way-- you'd only raised your voice a little. "five pm? friday? that's when i make triple the amount of a usual night soobin." you huffed, crossing your arms over your body and tilting your head at him.

on a friday, the typical crowd varied, but the crowd were all big tippers. from elderly couples drowning in money to drunken men trying to find a girl to take home. working as a female server on a day like that was as good as being a celebrity.

"i am your boss, y/n."

"ugh, not this."

"and you will listen."

you were sat at a table, acrylics tapping hastily on your phone in order to match soobin's load of texts. you let out a small scoff, eyes rolling at his adoration toward the new girl, and his very obvious crush.

minatozaki sana-- the new hire, the statuesque beauty that had your boss on edge. you hadn't seen her yet, but despite your annoyed behavior you were presenting, you were eager. not only because there was a new girl and all the stares would disperse to her, but also to maybe have some eye candy at work. you called it inspiration-- and wouldn't let it become anything more.

you sighed again, now ignoring soobin's rush of anxious messages and opting to scroll instagram, liking few posts here and there. sort of relaxed minus the hustle of workers and customers around you. but not all peace lasts forever.

"hey!"

you jumped a little, only mildly startled by the honey sweet voice. you looked up, cheeks flushed, only to meet the eyes of an angel. soobin was not wrong.

sana was in baggy jeans, high rise, and not too big, just right. a pair of boots, even from the distance you could read the small prada logo on them. her shirt was fitted, again, not too tight but not too loose, and it had some cute logo on the front. overtop was a racer jacket, matching the color of the logo on her white shirt. it was oversized and looked so warm-- you started to feel jealous at your lack of jacket. her hair was dark and wavy, perfectly framing her face, and her perfectly carved jaw, and her warm eyes you couldn't pull away from, and those full lips that-

"are you alright?"

that voice, ugh, it wasn't fair. it was warm and partially low, much to your demise.

"uh- sorry! yes, sorry." you faltered, voice shaking and body turning into a 90 degree bow. you heard sana begin to laugh, only making your face hotter. it was just as melodious as soobin explained.

"don't be. you're cute. i'm sana." she chimed. you'd swore you'd start sweating at this point, face hot and definerly red.

"s-sana! i'm y/n. i'll be showing you around i suppose." you stuttered, mentally slapping yourself. you needed to get ahold of yourself before all hope is lost with sana, but god would it be hard when she looked and talked how she did.

"pretty name, suits you. let's go?" she smiled, turning her head slightly to motion behind her.

"yeah.."

this walk through would be the way you died.

you'd mentally decided your own fate only half way through the walk through. with sana's random and most definetly not work place friendly flirtatious quips and the 'subtle' touches she'd leave on your skin-- you were positive you were done for.

"so, is that all?" sana smiled, snapping you away from your thoughts. the smile on her face was enough to put you to your knees, having to use all the strenght you had to stand upright.

"uh, yeah! you start monday i think, and i'll be working the same hours as you, just in case you need help." you smiled back, positive there was a pink tint to your cheeks.

"perfect. you know you're-"

"sana! i see y/n has showed you around."

soobin.

you could hear the way he was making his voice more stable, and even a little deeper. he wore his most expensive suit, one you'd recongnized from when he made you join him to shop for date attire. dior pocket square adding the smallest detail. a grin was adorning his face, subtle and clearly having flirtatious intent. sana turned from you hesitantly, only before throwing a warm smile on her face.

"oh, hello soobin. good to see you." sana winked, which in any other scenario, would make you melt and would burn your cheeks up. but the only thing hot now was your blood as you clenched your teeth together, forcing a tight lipped smile onto your face.

you were beyond jealous.

"you look as gorgeous as before! still such a model." soobin flirted, words rolling off his tongue smoothly, and causing sana to let out that heavenly giggle.

"and you still look good in a suit, i see." sana responded, hand reaching out for his forearm. you felt your heart nearly sink.

"uhm, i got to go." you coughed, not really wanting to interrupt, but wanting to leave asap.

"what?" sana muttered, watching as you scrambled to put your items into your purse.

"i-uh." you started, eyes trying not to meet hers. "i just am feeling, tired." you lied, standing up straight and bowing to both sana and soobin. you quickly turned on your heel, hearing your shoe squeak on the floor.

"wait!"

you felt a hand hit yours, enveloping it in a sudden warmth, contrasting to the cold weather. it locked perfectly with yours, and the skin was so soft against you. you turned around, eyes meeting sana's at a closer distance that you'd been expecting. you had almost let out a sound at the small gap between the two of you.

"i want you to take my jacket, it's freezing." sana beamed, holding her leather racing jacket in her free hand. you were still focused on the distance and how sana's hand hadn't left yours.

"you don't have to." you muttered, eyes shaking as they met hers. you'd sworn her look was of adoration-- but you brushed that off as overthinking.

"i do. to thank you. please take it." she nudged the jacket into your chest to accentuate her point further.

"i, okay." you said, unable to resist sana's hopeful expression. you started throwing the jacket over your arms, noticing the sweet smell that infiltrated you nose, and the warmth the jacket had provided you.

"should be helpful since i walked here."

"what!?!?"

and that's how you ended up in sana's car, that honeyed and husky voice humming along to whatever song came on-- even singing some lyrics.

"thank you sana, you didn't have to." you hummed, turning to look at her as she drove. her side profile was flawless, as if she had jumped out from an illustration.

"i did! you showed me around today. plus, i'd never let someone as gorgeous as you walk home at this hour." she smiled as she said those words, almost knowing you were staring. your face heated up for what felt like the nth time today. however, you couldn't shy away from looking at her.

the car came to a stop, a new red light illuminating her face.

"if you think i'm that pretty just ask me out, you could look at me much longer." sana grinned, turning to meet your now burning face.

"i-i'm so sorry! i didn't want to make you uncomfortable." you murmered, turning away and looking down at your hands in your lap.

"hey," sana started, reaching to grab one of your hands over your thigh as she kept driving, "it's okay."

what wasn't okay was whatever was happening right now. not that you didn't want it to happen, but god were you going to melt away right into the seats of her sports car.

you couldn't respond, to worried about your voice giving out. this left the both of you to drive in silence, other than sana humming to some new song.

monday came faster then expected.

you went from worrying about sana in your bed all weekend, unable to shake the thought of her. her and her soft hands, and welcoming perfume and perfect lips.

now, you were at work, trying your darndest to ignore sana until the end of your shift. whether it be pretending to be extra busy, or holding more eventful conversation with customers.

which, shockingly, worked.

but of course,

"hey! let me drive you home y/nnie." sana called to you, watching you slip on your normal sneakers you'd worn before changing into uniform.

today sana's outfit was more laid back, just some grey baggy sweats and an oversized black hoodie. she still managed to look like a runway model in her cozy clothes.

"you don't have to, sana." you smiled back, trying your hardest to resist her charms. you stood upright, watching as she walked over to you, reaching out that glorious hand to yours.

"come on. i want to talk to you."

back in sana's flashy white sports car. you found yourself wondering where sana got all this money as you watched streetlights and corner stores pass your vision.

there was a lack of sana's humming, and no song on the radio at all. the silence was comforting and sweet, but you sensed sana's thoughts the whole car ride. feeling her eyes on you at any stop light. similar to what you did her the first car ride.

what else was different, was the car being parked at an unfamiliar location. obviously not the lobby to your apartment building that you'd entered time and time again.

you looked around, rubbing your eyes and letting out a small groan as you stretched. you found yourself almost in awe, admiring the coolly lit lamps and the blossoming trees, small white flowers falling to the floor with each gust of wind.

you turned to sana, who for once, looked nervous. light pink tint on her cheeks and a bashful smile on her lips. you couldn't help but smile back.

"what's this?" you asked, tilting your head at her.

"the trees are blossoming this season, i figured you'd like to see. let's go walk? there's some benches down this way." sana said, voice hopeful and cheery, yet still managing to fluster you.

"i'd really love to sana, but i don't have a jacket and it's a little cold, no?" you frowned, not wanting to upset her any. especially not after the thoughtful surprise.

sana's smile didn't falter, she only unbuckled her seatbelt, letting out a quiet 'hold on', before reaching behind her seat, retrieving a white hoodie. you couldn't help but coo at her thoughtfulness, letting your fingers sink into the fabric as you took it from her, putting over your own body.

immediately, the same sweet scent from her jacket the first time you saw her wafted into your nose, filling your senses and warming your body up.

"let's go?"

sana and you had been hand in hand since leaving her car.

her hands were soft, actually, soft was an understatement. they were near perfect, fitting yours perfectly, size a little larger, acrylics at the ends of her fingertips that were neat and new. her hand provided another warmth like you'd never felt before, less of a physical warmth and more of a comforting, mental warmth. one that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn with color. an effect sana seemed to always have on you.

"here's good." she mumbled, nodding her head toward a bench sat under a lamppost and trees surrounding.

as the two of you sat, you took note of sana's fidgety, nervous state. you'd only seen her a couple of times, but you knew of her typical confident demeanor.

as you sat, sana's eyes locked with yours, reflecting a more timid and sheepish emotion, not the usual flirtatious one.

"so, y/n," sana started, eyes pulling away from yours to try and focus on the trees and not the overwhelming weight on her heart. her nerves were getting to her, it was obvious, from the shaky eyes to the bouncing of her leg.

you took note of this, putting a reassuring hand on her previously bouncing knee, looking at her with a concerned and welcoming expression.

her eyes met yours once again, face less stiff and more comfortable. rosy flush on her cheeks and warm smile illuminating her face.

"so, i know we only have known each other for like, a day, or whatever," she contiuned, reaching for your hand on her knee to hold, body turning to face you with regained confidence.

"but, i really like you, a lot. and i'm sorry if it's creepy or if you don't even like girls but, there is just something about you. like, you're so gorgeous and even the way you put your hand on my knee to reassure me and the way you talk with that flawless voice. it's all a lot for me, not in a bad way, just a wow kinda way, if that makes sense. i can't sit back and watch our coworkers drool over you knowing we have equal chance, i just want to know you're mine. sorry thats creepy and-"

you cut her off by pressing your lips against hers. she tasted like strawberry chapstick and everything sweet and her lips were just as pillowy against yours as you'd imagined the first day you saw her. she hummed into the kiss, moving her hand up to your jaw to better lean into the touch, your hands moving to tangle in her hair, the both of you pulling each other flush to one another. before letting anything get too far, you made the move to pull away, to both of yours dismay. but you couldn't stop thinking of how late it was getting and also how hard it was starting to get to breath. she let out a groan, one of more annoyance then anything, before looking into your eyes with a familiar smirk on her lips.

"i like you too, sana. a lot" you responded, head turning away as you tried hiding your reddened cheeks.

"i can tell." she grinned, teasing tone lacing her words.

"hey!"

the two of you started walking back, hand in hand once again, laughing about some random topics, before sana's phone went off.

"who is it?" you asked, quirking a brow, genuinely curious as to who it could be.

"ah, our boss, soobin." she sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket.

your eyes immediately widened and jaw slightly dropped. uh oh.

#sana x reader #sana scenarios #sana imagine #minatozaki sana #sana imagines #twice sana #twice imagines #twice x reader #twice reactions #twice imagine #twice #sana reactions #sana drabble

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