#guys I live by this theory don’t take it away

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 3

“First times”

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 (coming out next Friday - October 4)

Masterlist

“Knock, knock.”

“Mum, hey.”

“May I come in?” she says from my room's door.

“Sure” I smile. 

“So…” she says, sitting down on my bed. “You are leaving again.”

“It's just for a few weeks, mum.”

“A month. And then it's the summer holidays and you are also going away with your friends and I don't know when I will see you again.”

“Don't be that dramatic, mum” I laugh. 

“The house is gonna be so empty without you and your sister…” she continues . “Though I guess we should be getting used to this. To you spending more time away and following your own path. You aren't our little girls anymore, you are women now.”

“Don’t let dad hear you saying that” I chuckle.

“I won't” she smiles. “But Sofía… Is there anything going on?”

“Uh?”

“Lately you've been… I don't know. Different.”

“Different?” I ask as I keep packing my bag.

“Yes, like… I don't know how to explain it, but you look different. Happier.”

“Well, I am happy.”

“Because you aren't invisible anymore?”

“What?” 

“Sofía…” my mum says, taking a deep breath. “I know that's how you've been feeling all these years. As if you weren't important to us, as if everything was for your sister and we were ignoring you. As if you didn't matter, as if you were just a second choice. But you do matter, Sofía. You do.”

“I know” I whisper, playing with the necklace Pedri gave me over Christmas. Touching the little banana charm has become something I do mostly without thinking when I am nervous or feeling a bit anxious, something that helps me relax.  

“And now… I don't know. You've spent most part of this year constantly going to Barcelona and staying with your aunt and your cousins, looking the happiest I've seen you in a long time when you come back, and I can't help but feel like… like…”

“Like?”

“Like they are giving you the love you deserve. The love your father and I have failed at giving you.”

“You haven't failed me, mum” I say, looking at her.

“Haven't we? Because I can't remember the last time I saw you smiling like this. Well, I do. When Spain won the Euros” she chuckles. “You had the same sparkle in your eyes after the boys came to visit us.”

“The same sparkle?” I laugh.

“Cheesy, I know. But it's the truth” she shrugs. “Both things aren't related, are they?”

“What?”

“Your aunt Cristina has a theory but… Nah. Forget about it.”

“A theory?” I ask her. “What theory?”

“Well, she thinks you are dating someone in Barcelona, and that he may be either one of your cousin's teammates or a Barça player from the football team. One Irene seems to fancy.”

“What?” I laugh, hoping that my reaction will hide the fact that my aunt is right. Kind of.

Because Irene actually fancies a guy who plays handball with her brother, and since I owe her for helping me when I meet with Pedri, now I'm doing the same for her and accompanying her to his games.

“You two go watch your cousin play handball all the time and also go to the Camp Nou pretty often. And then you alone disappear most weekends and don't stop by the house. You say you are meeting with friends, but she suspects it's because you are staying with a boy.”

“That's… I…”

“Ferran!” my mum suddenly says.

“Ferran?”

“That's the boy Irene apparently likes. Are you dating him? I saw you looking his way when they visited us. He is quite handsome.”

“I'm not dating him, mum” I chuckle. “And I wasn't looking his way.” Though I was, because Pedri was obviously next to him. 

“I wouldn't mind if you were” she shrugs. 

“Really? He is… a football player.”

“And?” she says. “I was just a tv news presenter when I met your father.”

“Yes, but… But you had a degree. Most football players have struggled to finish high school.”

“Sofía, as long as you love each other and you have a healthy relationship, I don't care about what the person you choose does for a living. But whatever they do has to be legal, of course” she says with a playful smile.

“Of course” I reply, also smiling. 

“Does this mean there is a boy, then? Is your aunt right?”

“I… ummm…” I say, back to playing with my necklace.

“Got it” she winks. “Am I right about what I was saying earlier too?”

“Uh?”

“About you going to Barcelona so often not just because of a boy, Sofía. I think you are doing it because of me and your father. Because here with us you feel alone and lonely. Because here it is all about your sister and getting her ready for her future. And when we do something together as a family, like going to an event the four of us together for example, it also ends up being about her. So I understand it, Sofía. I understand if you've felt left behind and invisible, and now in Barcelona you don't anymore.”

And the thing is… that she's right. That in Barcelona I've found what I didn't have in Madrid, and not only because of Pedri. 

My aunt Cristina (my dad's sister) has basically adopted me and has been taking care of me as if I was another of her kids (she has four, Irene and her three older brothers). She has set a room just for me, and a box with things she knows I like (like my favourite chocolate or some of my favourite skincare products), is waiting for me in my bed every time I go back. And every day I share at least one meal with her, Irene, her brothers or all of them at the same time, something I'm not used to and that I've always missed back in Madrid. The laughs, the bickering between my cousins, the catching up about how your day has been… With my parents it mostly is silence or talk about work, even when Leonor is at home.

And speaking of work, I've found myself working on something I actually like, which isn't easy being who I am, invisible or not. 

My aunt takes care of some charities and foundations created and sponsored by the crown, and while Irene is at uni, Pedri in training and I'm bored at home, I usually accompany her to her meetings and help her with everything she may need as some kind of assistant. That's how I've found myself taking care of the foundation named after my sister, one that is focused on young people and helping them in anything they may need. And I… love it. I love it all, from coming up with new ideas for charity events, to meeting the kids and teenagers who are part of the foundation and spending time with them and helping them with whatever they may need, to even doing all the paperwork. 

Last time I was in Barcelona for example, I helped a group of kids with their homework, and once we were finished we spent most of the afternoon playing together, all of them going back home with a big smile on their faces. Them and I, to be honest. 

On this trip, among other things, I'm going back for an event with Barça's foundation that I've managed to organize thanks to Pedri's help, and I am so looking forward to it. You should have seen the kids’ faces when I told them about it, they couldn't believe it. I can't wait to see their reaction when he actually shows up and surprises them. 

And now that I mention him again, things are going so well between us… I sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, that everything I'm living and feeling with and for him is real. That I'm… that I'm in love with him even if I haven't found the guts to tell him just yet. 

What I have had to guts for, tho, is to say yes when he asked me to be his girlfriend, and he did it just a couple of weeks ago while he was away with the national team in Germany. 

Since it was the first official game Spain was playing after winning the Euros and Germany kind of is special for us, I went to watch him play. It wasn't an official visit, so as usual, going unnoticed was the easiest thing in the world.  

After the game we managed to have a sneaky date, and it was perfect even if we didn't leave my hotel room. Carlos was the best and helped us with everything, and even though he has to deal with us constantly being cheesy and too touchy when we are together out and about, I think he is starting to get used to it. To us being together.

“I'm sorry, Sofía. I'm sorry we've made you feel like that. That we've ignored you and neglected you the way we have.”

“Mum, I…”

“But we love you, Sofía. You know we do, don't you?”

“Of course I do, mum! I've never doubted that.”

“Then… do you forgive us?” she says, getting up and walking towards where I am standing. 

“There is nothing to forget, mum” I say, taking her hands on mine. “I know you were doing the best you could. And being invisible isn't that bad sometimes” I shrug.

“You aren't invisible, Sofía” she says, squeezing my hands. “You are a remarkable young woman, one I am very proud of. One both your father and I are very proud of.”

“Thank you, mum.”

“Ugh, come here” she says before hugging me. 

“Mum, can you… Can you squeeze me a bit less tightly, please? I can't breathe.”

“Oh, sorry” she says, still not letting go of me. “See how you aren't invisible?”

“Yeah” I chuckle.

“Though I hope you aren't using that excuse to do things you shouldn't. Like sneaking out to see that boy…”

“Mum…”

“Oh, look at the colour of your face” she laughs. “Will you tell me more about him if things get serious between you two?”

“I will.”

“Good” she smiles. “Now, do you need any help packing? You know I'm an expert. And maybe we could put on some music while we do it? I'm so out of the loop with what you girls like... Last thing I remember is One Direction, and I believe they stopped making music together years ago.”

“You are a bit out of date, yes.”

“Then… May I help you pack?”

“You may” I smile. “Thank you, mum.”

“You're welcome” she says, kissing my cheek.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Look at him. He never pays attention to his hair, and now he's been looking at himself in the mirror for the past five minutes” Ferran chuckles.

“His girlfriend is coming to see him play. He has to look royally good” Fermín says.

“I can hear you, you know?” Pedri says, trying to tame a lock of hair that keeps sticking out. He should not be bothering so much with it, he's about to go into the pitch and after a couple of runs it'll be ruined. But Sofía is on the stands, and he wants to look good for her even if she always says that she prefers his hair when it is messy.

“She is still coming to my birthday party, isn't she?” Fermín says.

“She is. She actually got you a present” Pedri says, giving up with his hair.

“A royal one?”

“Will you ever stop with those jokes?” Pedri says, rolling his eyes.

“Ummm… no” Fermín smiles.

“Don't worry, Pedri” Ferran says, putting an arm around his shoulders and messing his hair with his other hand. “He will go all shy when he meets her and won't say a word to her the whole night, you'll see.”

“I already met her when we went to the palace after the Euros, you know?” Fermín says.

“Yeah, and you weren't able to look up her shoes” Ferran laughs. “So don't worry about him, Pedri. Just focus on the game and scoring a goal to dedicate to your princess.”

“Ferran!” 

“What? Many people call their girlfriends princess as a cute nickname” he shrugs. “No one has to know that yours actually is a real one” he smirks.

“Yeah, well.”

No one from the team knew about Sofía. No one but Ferran, Fermín and Gavi, of course. And Pedri was expecting to end the season like that, with not having to tell anyone else. 

They only had four more games left. Four games, and he would be able to go on holidays with Sofía. 

They had booked a little house in the south in France to be alone and celebrate their anniversary since they had picked the date they met at the Euros for it, and he couldn't wait to go there and just disconnect. To spend his days waking up and going to bed next to her, cooking their meals together and eating them in the garden while they talked about the most random things, going for walks together without worrying about someone recognising them, to watch the sunset together on the beach, and basically enjoy her company and… well. Her. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Guys, finally! Where were you?” Fermín asks us when we walk into his house. Or shouts, because the music is so loud and there are so many people…

“There was traffic” Pedri says.

“What? I left after you did and the roads were the same as always after a game” Gavi says, joining us.

“And you left before Ferran, and he already is here” Fermín adds.

“Is he? We should probably go say hello to him, you know how he gets if we…”

“You are not going anywhere until you tell us where you were” Fermín says, stopping Pedri.

“We… umm…”

“We had to wait until Carlos had checked the party and made sure it was safe for me” I say.

“What?” both Gavi and Fermín say, looking my way.

“It's the usual procedure” I shrug. The usual… with my sister. With me things are more chill. “He says thank you for making it a party with no phones, by the way. It makes his life easier.” Which isn't a lie.

“I… umm… you're welcome?” 

“Anyway, why don't we get ourselves a drink? What do you want, Sofía?” Pedri asks me, trying to escape from his friends. 

He's been worried about them not behaving properly in front of me since the day I confirmed I would be attending the party. When I've met them on their own it's been fine, they all are really nice guys. And Fermín actually got a bit teary when I gave him his birthday present earlier after the game, which was really cute.

But Pedri fears that once they all are together and have drank a bit, they may get too cocky and say something they shouldn't in front of me. But not because he is hiding things from me or anything like that. Our phone conversations are so long that by now we basically know everything about the other when it comes to boys, girls, relationships, crushes and hook ups. He worries more about… embarrassing things and stories. 

“Look who is finally here!” Ferran says behind us, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and the other around Pedri's. “What took you so long?”

“Sofía’s bodyguard had to check if the house was safe” Gavi says.

“What?” Ferran laughs. “Did you seriously believe that?”

“It is the truth.”

“And I'm blonde, Pedri” Ferran laughs again. “Guys, haven't you looked at them?”

“What do you mean?” Gavi asks with a confused look.

“Swollen lips, the neck of Pedri's t-shirt is a bit crooked, Sofía isn't wearing lipstick and she was when we met them at the stadium… These two were late because they were making out in his car. Maybe doing more than that” Ferran smirks.

“No!” Fermin gasps, his eyes going wide. “You guys are late to my birthday party because you were too busy fucking?”

“Language, bro!” Gavi says, elbowing him and nodding towards me.

“You can swear in front of me, Gavi. It's ok. You should hear the things I say sometimes” I chuckle. “And we weren't fucking. We just had a quick make out session because my boyfriend here scored an amazing goal and we had to celebrate” I smile, looking at Pedri. “Besides, sex in his car isn't too comfortable.”

“Sofía!” Pedri gasps. Now he is the one whose eyes are about to pop from their sockets, his cheeks turning bright red.

“What? It's the truth, you've said it yourself” I shrug.

“You are lucky he got rid of the Mini before he met you” Ferran laughs. “Because if you find this car uncomfortable…”

“And I'm lucky I already got my driver's license and I don't need Pedri taking me everywhere” Gavi says.” Having to go training with him every day in that car knowing that you two have… you know…”

“Can we please talk about something else? Like, we are here to celebrate Fermín getting older, not to discuss details about my personal life” Pedri says, letting go of my hand and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks so pissed… 

“Exactly!” Fermín says. “Let's go get us some shots to celebrate. Follow me.”

“Pedri…” I say as the others start walking away. But he doesn't hear me… or doesn't want to. And I'm pretty sure he dodged my hand when I tried to touch his arm. “Great” I sigh before following him.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“To the birthday boy!” Ferran says once we all have our tiny glasses.

“To me!” Fermín smiles. 

“Pedri, where are you going?” I ask him when he finishes his shot and gives Gavi his glass, walking away and completely ignoring me. Again.

“Oh… trouble in paradise…” Fermín chuckles. “Ouch! Why did you hit me, bro?”

“Do you seriously have to ask?” Ferran says, nodding towards me.

“Oh, umm… Sorry, Sofía.”

“It's ok. I'm… I'm gonna go talk with him. Take this” I say, giving my glass to Ferran.

“Sofía, do you want me to go with you?” he offers.

“This is my mess, Ferran. But thank you” I smile before leaving him and the others and starting to look for Pedri among all the guests. How can Fermín know so many people?

“Hey, I know you!” a boy says, stopping me when I make it to the garden. 

“I don't think so.”

“Of course I do! You are the hot princess!”

“The what?”

“Yeah… Bro, what is the name of the princess?” 

“Leonor?” one of his friends says, not even bothering to look at me.

“Nah, not the one with an old lady name. The other one, the hot one!”

“Oh, Sofía.”

“Yes, Sofía! You are her, aren't you?” he smiles.

I am the hot princess? What? Since when?

“I'm afraid you are mistaken me with her. Besides, what would she be doing at a party like this?” I chuckle.

“Yeah, you are probably right… You still are really hot, tho” he smirks.

“Thank you. But now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my boyfriend” I say, giving him my best fake smile, the one I usually use at boring events. 

“Burn!” his friend laughs, some other people around us joining him. 

“Boyfriends can break up, you know?” he says, ignoring them.

“I know” I sigh. Mine may be thinking about that right now. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. And thank you for the compliment.”

“You're welcome. And princess or not, you know where to find me!” he says as I walk away.

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“Ferran… Fer… Ferran” I say, tapping on his shoulder. “Ferran!”

“Shit!” he says, turning around. “Sofía?”

“Hi, yes. Sorry for interrupting” I smile at the girl he was making out with. “But I can't find him.”

“What?”

“I can't find… you know” I whisper, not saying Pedri's name just in case the girl has recognised me. “I've looked everywhere and I can't find him. And I don't want to call Carlos and ask him if he has seen him leave, because I know the look he will give me, and I can't deal with my bodyguard telling me I told you right now.”

“You have a bodyguard?” the girl asks.

“That's how she calls her older brother” Ferran quickly says. “But are you sure you have looked everywhere for him?”

“Yes” I nod. “I fucked up, Ferran. He got mad and now he has left me and…”

“Sofía, hey, no. We are gonna find him and you will fix things.”

“I hope so. Because I… I… you know.” I love him.

“I know” he says. “He does too.”

He… what?

“Do you mind if I go help my friend find her boyfriend? They had a little argument and… you know. But I'll come back and I will make it up to you. I promise” Ferran says to the girl with a smile that could make anyone fall at his feet. 

“Ok” the girl says before whispering something in his ear. “Don't take too long.”

“I won't, I promise. Let's go, Sofía” he says, taking my hand and basically dragging me behind him.

“What did she tell you?” 

“Oh, you don't want to know, Sofía. You don't want to know…”

“Ferran, I may be a princess, but I'm not a delicate flower like the ones you read about in fairytales.”

“That's what I've gathered after some things Pedri has told me” he says as he suddenly stops, making me almost crash into his back before he starts walking again, leading us upstairs. “But I am a gentleman, Sofía. What she said will stay between her and I.”

“Sure” I snort.

“Ok, fine. I may tell the boys some details about it. And… this way” he says as we go up another set of stairs.

“Ferran, where are we going?”

“I assume you checked all the rooms on that floor while looking for Pedri.”

“I did, yes. And saw things I didn't want to see.”

“Been there” he chuckles. “Did you come to this floor too?” 

“I did. But all the rooms were empty.”

“Did you go into the attic?”

“There is an attic?”

“There is” he says, opening a door I hadn't seen earlier since it has no handle. It is one of those kind of hidden on the wall, one you have to push to open. “Fermín basically uses it as a storage room, but it has a balcony with amazing views and Pedri has always loved it. So if he hasn't left the party yet, he's up there.”

“Aren't you coming with me?”

“It is an attic but there are no spiders if that's what you are afraid of. Pedri would never go there if that was the case” he chuckles. “And this is something you need to do on your own, Sofía.”

“I guess, yes” I sigh.

“Good luck” Ferran says, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Thank you” I smile. “And good luck to you too. Though I think you won't be needing it with that girl.”

“We'll see” he says before walking away.

“Ok, Sofía. You can do this” I say, taking a deep breath and going up the stairs.

Like Ferran said, the attic basically is a big storage room, boxes of gym machines, shoes and random bits and bobs scattered everywhere. At the end of it there is a big glass door that lets in enough light to illuminate the room without having to turn it on, and that door is currently open, letting the music and the voices from the party come in.

As I get closer to it, I can see someone sitting on the floor, his legs hanging between the bars of the balcony's railing. 

“Pedri?” I call.

“Bloody hell!” he screams, hitting his legs as he tries to get up.

“Sorry, I'm sorry. Are you alright?”

“I may wake up with a huge bruise on my knee tomorrow, but I'm fine” he says, massaging his leg. “What are you doing here, Sofía?”

“I… I was looking for you.”

“To embarrass me a bit more in front of my friends?”

“What? No! I just… I… I'm sorry.”

“I was looking forward to this party, you know?" he says after a few seconds in silence. "Actually, we both were. We had agreed on wanting to spend some time with the boys and have fun like any people our age would do, relax a bit before the end of the season and before we can go on holidays just the two of us. And as you also know, my only worry was that the boys could start behaving like idiots and saying things that they shouldn't, embarrassing me in front of you. I've spent the whole week telling them to behave, that if they actually were my friends, they would do it for me. Little did I know, that it would be you the one embarrassing me in front of them.”

“C'mon, Pedri. It was just a little bit of banter between friends.”

“Banter that made me uncomfortable, Sofía” he says, standing up. “You know how much they've been teasing me about you and our relationship since we started seeing each other. And you also know that even if they aren't doing it to be mean, it bothers me. Because I may be a worldwide known football player, but you are Spain's fucking princess. Yes, the second in line, but still a princess. And sometimes I can't help but feel… I don't know. Small next to you.”

“Pedri…”

“I know what you are going to say. That I'm not small. At least not in the way I'm thinking” he chuckles, his smile quickly disappearing. “But just as you struggle with feeling like your whole life you've been invisible to everyone despite me telling you that that's not true, I struggle with this. With sometimes feeling like I'm… not enough for you. And those insecurities came back earlier when we were with the boys. Because you are comfortable and confident enough to openly talk about such personal things with anyone, but I'm not. One thing is doing it between us, in private, and another with and in front of my friends. Like, it takes ages for Ferran to get something out of me and I know I can trust him with my life!” Pedri says, running a hand through his hair. “And I thought you knew that and understood it, Sofía. So when I saw you talking about it with them… Well. It hurt.”

“I'm sorry, Pedri. I truly truly am. Because I do know you feel that way and I understand it. I do, I swear. I should have known better and just shut up. But I didn't and I kept talking because I'm an idiot. I am a fucking idiot” I say, kicking an empty shoe box. “And I'm not trying to excuse myself but I just… I don't know. I guess I was just too excited because we were doing something normal with your friends. And then you have to add the game and your goal, the make out session in the car and… I don't know. It's like I was drunk in happiness and I got carried away and… I'm sorry.”

“Yeah” he whispers, neither of us saying another word for what feels like an eternity.

“I guess I should go back home” I finally say. “Carlos will probably be glad when he sees me. You know he didn't agree with any of this. With us.”

“Wait, what?”

“He didn't like the idea of us coming to a party with so many people, and he's never liked the idea of us together. He's started to get used to it, but since that misunderstanding when we met, I know he has never fully trusted you. So I guess he'll be happy knowing that it is over.”

“Over? What are you talking about, Sofía?”

“We have broken up, haven't we?”

“What?” Pedri laughs.

“Isn't that what just happened?”

“Of course not!” he laughs again.

“Then… umm…”

“Sofía, we haven't broken up” he says, taking my hands on his. “This has just been our first real and proper fight as a couple.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Just that?”

“Just that” he chuckles.

“Then you aren't… I mean… Are you…”

“I'm a bit pissed and also disappointed, but that doesn't mean I want to break up with you. It only means we need to keep working on our relationship. Keep talking and telling each other how we feel, what we think, what worries us.”

“Oh... I see.”

“So clever and bold with some things, and so naïve when it comes to others, Sofía…” he says with a teasing smile.

“Could say the same about you, Pedro.”

“You could, yes” he laughs. “Looks like we are made for each other.”

“Yeah” I say with a shy smile. Here I am once again, feeling my face getting warmer by the second just because he has said or done something cute. “There was something Ferran told me before he helped me find you…”

“He helped you find me?”

“He did. I had been looking for you everywhere and couldn't find you, started to freak out, and had to interrupt him while he had his tongue down a girl's throat.”

“Wow” Pedri laughs. “Did she at least take it well?”

“She did. And if she had doubts, the smile he gave her sent them all away.”

“Oh, I know that smile. It is a dangerous one that has broken many hearts. But what did he tell you?”

“He… I mean… I implied something, and he said that so did you.”

“What?”

“I… Ok” I say, taking a deep breath. “I basically told him that I love you but without using those words, and he said that you…”

“I love you too, Sofía” Pedri smiles.

“You… You do?”

“I do” he nods. 

“That's… umm… ok” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Too many emotions in a short period of time, uh?” he says, moving one hand to cup my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. A cheek that is obviously burning.

“Definitely. I've gone from thinking we were breaking up to telling you I love you for the first time and you saying it back in what, five minutes?”

“Something like that.”

“Fermín said that his birthday party was going to be an unforgettable one, and he wasn't wrong. He probably had something different in mind, but… Did I tell you that some random guy recognised me? I obviously told him he was mistaken, that what would Princess Sofía be doing here. But he said that I was the hot sister. Me! And he also said that Leonor has an old lady name, which is pretty funny and…”

“And you are rambling, Sofía.”

“Am I?”

“Yep. And even though that guy was right when he told you that you are the hot princess, proving once again what I always tell you about being invisible… You, my lady, also are rambling” Pedri smiles, the fact that he has used his nickname for me making all my doubts and fears disappear.

“Another thing we have in common, then” I say. “You know, you may be right, and we may be made for each other.”

“We are made for each other” he corrects me. 

“Even if I sometimes I'm an idiot and have a bit of a big mouth?”

“Even so” he chuckles. “I love you, Sofía.”

“I love you too, Pedri” I say before kissing him.

[lezabeththetheodoraimposter]

guys ik we all agreed the vackers aren’t white (most people say like south Asian) but hear me out…

Jewish vackers. Like ethnically Jewish vackers. Like middle eastern vackers.

edit: I had no clue this was wide spread. Proves im right

[a-b-riddle]

Not me imagining medic reader who acts weird around Ghost.

At first everyone thinks that you’re just weirded out. 6’4 wall of a man in a skull mask. His eyes covered in black makeup and eyes such a deep brown they’re almost black. Anyone in their right mind would be on edge.

But then as time progresses it doesn’t stop. You don’t ease up no matter how many times you’ve been around Ghost. Eventually the 141 begins to suspect something much more sinister.

Theories of knowing something about Ghost you shouldn’t. Are you working for Makarov and worried? Your eyes never leave him anytime he enters a room. Your voice wavering anytime he asks you a question. You’re not like that with the others. You’re hiding something. And they know it.

Johnny is the one you’ve gotten closest to in the 141. The one who wants to believe you’re not a traitor. You’re Birdie for Christ’s sake. Their bird, as they call you. You couldn’t be betraying them. He’s able to convince the guys to let him get you drunk. See if you slip up.

It’s a quiet night on base. Johnny had manage to get flavored vodka imported. Enticing you to come have a drink in his barracks.

And boy, do you.

You get too tipsy to notice how off Johnny seems. How his voice is softer, more alluring. You also down notice the phone face down on the table, serving as a live walkie-talkie between him and the others listening in Price’s office.

Johnny and you bullshit around. Talking about F1 racing, the need for more help in the medbay and even what your plans are when you get back home.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“What’s your deal with the Simon?” He finally asks. His question grants you pause, almost instantly sobering you up. Johnny sees it in your eyes. His heart breaking because he begins to believe he was wrong.

“Hen,” his hand grabs yours, when you don’t say anything. “I know something is going on.” You try and pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Have-” you begin, trying to figure out how to tell him. Johnny is your friend. He wouldn’t care. But you fail to come up with the words. “Fuck.”

“Please.” He begs. “You know you can tell me.” You wait. Contemplating if you should tell him. But then it could mean losing any respect you had earned with them.

“You can’t judge me.” You made him promise, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I won’t.” He promises, offering a squeeze of reassurance. He knew that the moment you confessed to whatever it was you were hiding, the team would be in there. He knew what would happen to you. And although there were no romantic feelings he held toward you, he still cared.

You took a deep breath.

“It’s the mask.” You confessed. “It’s hot.” Now it was Johnny’s turn to pause.

The mask?

“What?” He asked in disbelief, pulling his hand off of yours. “What do you mean it’s hot?” “You’re worried that he’s sweating underneath it.”

“I want to fuck him.” It felt like a weight lifted the moment your confession of lust escaped your lips.

Johnny sat there, knowing his Captain, fellow Sergeant and, most importantly, his Lieutenant were listening on the other end of the phone.

“Simon.” he clarified. “Ye want to fuck Simon.”

“I mean if he keeps the mask on.” You shrug, looking at his bewildered expression. “It’s a kink, Johnny. Some people like feet or being led around on a dog leash.” You down the rest of the sweetened liquor, cringing as the last sip makes your stomach flip. “Men in masks do it for me. It’s a thing now. Lots of women like it.”

He doesn’t say anything. The room filled with uncomfortable silence until he breaks out in laughter.

“If you say anything, I will murder you and we both know I can make it look like an accident.” You threaten.

“Feckin’ hell.” He sighs, wiping tears from his eyes. “This isn’t how I expected the conversation to go.”

“Well,” you say standing, needing a moment to get your bearings. “It’s also over. I’m calling it a night.”

“I’ll walk ye back to yer room.” He says standing.

“No need.” You wave off. “I’m good.”

He knows you’re right. But now guilt eats away at him for even thinking you were a traitor. So he lets you go, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading as you walk down the empty corridor.

Several minutes later the others join him in his barracks. None of them saying something until, Johnny looks at Simon.

“Looks like the little Bird has a thing for you, Lt.”

Simon rolls his eyes.

Thankful that his mask is hiding his shit eating grin.

[papercorgiworld]

It started with a book

A Mattheo Riddle love story

Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader

The reader is a total bookworm and has a crush on Mattheo. For a summary check the request.

Warning: bullying, foul language and kissing

Picture source: https://pin.it/4HBHs0yxy

I’ve never written about a Hufflepuff reader before, I know that’s very Slytherin of me, but I really hope I did justice to our kind and hardworking Hufflepuffs.

I. Books and lifesavers

You were sitting in the quietest corner of the library and had just finished your essay on gillyweed. You reached for your newest novel, happy to finally dig into the book after finishing all your work. You scan the book in every way possible, adoring the illustrations and paper, but when you finally start the first sentence you’re interrupted.

“No, it should be here somewhere. It’s about conjuration, so this section.” You heard Mattheo’s voice explain, before he appeared next to your table looking at the books on the shelves. Your eyes shot up at him, but he was too focused on the books to even notice you. Your eyes immediately dropped back to your book when you saw Draco. “How would you know? You’ve never set foot in this place.” He snarls at his friend. Mattheo just rolls his eyes as his finger moves over the different titles. “Elemental Structure and Duration… Element-” You heard Mattheo mutter to himself and you looked back up from your book, watching him as he focussed on the books. “It’s Theory of Elemental Structure and Duration.” You suddenly blur and get up from your seat. Mattheo and Draco look surprised, like you had shown up out of nowhere. “Eavesdropping are we?” Draco snares and your heart sinks as they both stare at you. “No, I-I just, the book- it’s over here, somewhere.” You stutter as your face reddens. Mattheo throws Draco a dirty look and Draco just raises his eyebrows in defence.

Mattheo watching you stammer.

You quickly turn away from them and take a few steps towards a different bookcase. You panic a bit when you don’t immediately find it, but after a few seconds you spot it. “Here you go.” You hold the book in Mattheo’s direction, who carefully watches you before taking it. “Great, thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” A nervous laugh rolls over your lips as your eyes lock with Mattheo’s, but he quickly turns away and with a small wave they disappear. Yup, the cutest guy at Hogwarts just called me a lifesaver. You can’t help but bite your lip trying to contain your smile. “Well of course she knew where the book was, she looks like she bloody lives in this library.” Draco’s loud voice makes you wish you had kept your mouth shut instead of helping them. I’m such an idiot.

Time skip: a few weeks later.

II. Deadlines and crushes

Mattheo enters the slytherin common room exhausted and ready to blow off some steam. “Astronomy tower anyone?” Theo answers his friend's question by simply raising his hand and reaching for his cigarettes on the table. “Where have you been all day? We’ve been waiting for you?” Blaise questions. “The library. Apparently, I’ve missed three essays this month. Sluggy says that I can make up for it by writing one long one about Felix Felicis. If I miss tomorrow’s deadline, no quidditch for a month.” Draco’s eyes fill with panic. “I bloody hope you’ve finished that essay or you’re not heading up to the astronomy tower.” Blaise laughs at Draco’s dramatics. “Okay there, Matt’s mom.” Mattheo shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I only have to write two more paragraphs but I brought the book with me.” After a moment Mattheo's eyes widened. “The book!”. Without another word he sprints to the library hoping he’ll get there before it closes.

“Urgh.” You groan as you drop your books for the third time since you’d left the library. Clearly there was such a thing as too many books. While picking them up you spot Mattheo running towards the closed door of the library. “Fuck!” He screams with obvious frustration and without a second thought he pulls out his wand and points it at the door. “No! It’s enchanted, you can’t and also they will know.” You startle Mattheo with your sudden interruption and he lowers his wand. “Yeah, well, I don’t care, I really need my book.” When he raises his wand again, you step in front of him. “A book about what?” Even though your heart is racing, there’s something calm about you that has Mattheo surrender. “Felix Felicis.” You feel yourself get all giddy knowing that you have exactly what he needs.

He helps you carry your books as you both make your way to the Hufflepuff common room. “You’re a real nerdy one, aren’t you?” Mattheo asks you somewhat tactlessly. You smile at his bluntness. “I prefer ‘book enthusiast’.” He raises his eyebrows, making you laugh. “Nerd.” He sings and you give him a playful push. “Do you still want your book?” You tease and he smiles, adoring you. “Well of course, my apologies dear book enthusiast.” With bright smiles on your faces you enter the Hufflepuff common room, making everyone look up in surprise. There’s some awkward shuffling between you two as you try to take the books he was holding for you. “I’ll be back in a minute.” You leave Mattheo standing in the Hufflepuff common room seriously wondering what you Hufflepuffs were thinking when you decorated the place.

“Tadaah.” You say as you hand him your book on potions. “There’s two chapters on Felix Felicis, Slugghurn advised me to buy this book so you’ll definitely score points using this.” Mattheo’s eyes light up. “You’re again a lifesaver, princes, I won’t forget this.” Princess? And, he remembers me from the library. “I’ll return it to you tomorrow afternoon.” You watch him walk away and when you turn around and spot Cedric you curse yourself for staring like a lovestruck fool. He comes up to you, trying to hide his smile, but failing. “You alright there tomato face?” You force your lips into a line and look up at him. “Yeah, I’m just helping him out by lending him a book, since the library was closed.” He nods pretending to be convinced. “Uhuh, but still watch out, he’s still Mattheo Riddle.” You nod and make your way to your dorm.

III. Acts of love

The next day Mattheo had returned your book and ended up walking you to class, which had you walking on sunshine for the rest of the day, but I didn’t stop there. When he caught you staring during transfiguration you looked away blushing. However, when you looked back up after a moment he was still staring back at you with a sweet smile. When you sink back into your book you hear Mcgonagall. “Mister Riddle, if you could please give your book as much attention as you give your fellow students that would be much appreciated.” Theo, who sat next to Mattheo, couldn’t help but snicker. “That obvious?” Mattheo asked. Theo nodded. “Yes, that obvious.”

Mattheo would hold the door open for you and wink. “Did Riddle just wink at you?” Hermoine frowned. “Uhm, no, I just helped him with a book once… or twice.” Hermoine raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry, who also thought your answer was a bit off.

The next few weeks, he would come over to help you whenever he saw you carry more than three books and walk you to your class or to your common room. It was starting to get obvious to those around you two that something was going on. “Why don’t you just ask her out?” Theo took a long drag from his cigarette and looked at his friend. Mattheo’s first instinct was to play dumb but he knew that was pointless with Theodore. “I’m working up to it.” Mattheo stated and Theo laughed. “I’ve never seen you work this hard in your life.” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I guess I’ve never had the motivation to work for something like this.” Theo stared at the cigarette in his hand. “Then don’t ever let go of her.” Mattheo swore to take that advice to heart when he nodded.

IV. Bullies and kisses

“This is a library, please just lower your voices a bit.” You had softly asked an overly noisy group when you were studying. They had just laughed and eventually the librarian threw them out because someone else had complained.

You were on your way to the great hall for dinner when you heard some people laugh. “This is a library, please just lower your voices.” One of the noisy guys from earlier mocked you. Panic filled your eyes as you saw two of them walk up to you. “Care to share your notes?” One of them joked and tried to snatch your notebook from your hands, but you held onto it tightly. You tugged hard and took a few steps back trying to get him let go of it. When he looked over your shoulder and noticed that you were close to the stairs he let go of it and you stumbled back, falling a few stairs and hitting your face. You heard people laugh and you felt like half of Hogwarts was there. Your eyes were watery, but only when Ginny came running up to you did the tears start to roll over your cheeks. She wrapped an arm around you, held your stuff and walked you to the great hall.

It was Hermoine’s harsh voice that made Mattheo look up to you. “What happened?” Hermoine almost shouted and Mattheo’s entire demeanour changed when he saw your teary face, but he stayed seated at the slytherin table. When Hermoine made you lower your hand from your face, revealing a bruise on your perfect face, Mattheo felt his heart ache like never before. “That bastard made her fall off the stairs.” Mattheo carefully followed Ginny’s finger and his eyes landed on some snickering low life. You were surrounded by your friends and hadn’t seen Mattheo’s fuming figure get up from his seat and walk towards the door of the great hall.

The two assholes were laughing at your crying, while casually leaning against the door when Mattheo grabbed the one that Ginny had pointed to by the collar and dragged him out of sight, so the professor wouldn’t see what came next. “Picking on Hufflepuffs, that’s your game? Bet you didn’t expect to have me in your face?” Mattheo raged on with eyes full of hatred. Despite the attempts of the second douchebag trying to hold Mattheo back, he managed to punch him. The guy fell to the floor and Mattheo dragged him to nearby stairs. “How about I push you off of these?” Blaise was the one who reached Mattheo first and held him back long enough for the two bullies to leave. “Think about the next quidditch game, mate. If you get caught fighting, you’ll get detention for the whole week.” Mattheo pushed himself free. “Like I care.” Mattheo turned around looking for something or someone to punch. “They took her to madam Pomfrey. Apparently, her wrist was hurting as well.” Enzo spoke softly. “You should go see her.” Blaise urged and Mattheo calmed down, nodding.

Pomfrey had just bantaged your wrist when you spotted Mattheo leaning against the doorframe. He looked a bit pained to you so you immediately thanked Pomfrey and walked over to Mattheo. “You alright?” You asked, making him chuckle. “You’re a weird one, you know that right?” Seeing your confused face he explains himself. “You’re the one in the infirmary, but somehow you’re concerned about me?” A sheepish smile takes over your lips. “You just look a little sad.” He shakes his hand and wraps his arm around you, walking you to your common room. “Don’t worry, I’m fine now. Let’s stop by the kitchens and then settle in that weird looking common room of yours.” You frown and narrow your eyes at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Weird looking?” Mattheo looked at you and fell in love with you even more. Soft, red eyes from crying, a bruise and a bandaged wrist, but still by far the most beautiful person.

“You sure you're alright?” You tilt your head a little as you scan his face, but he just shamelessly continues staring at you. Your cheeks heat up when you notice him lean in. Suddenly all your nerves calm and your hand rests on his chest as your lips meet. He places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you into him. His warmth and strong arms make you relax even more. Your hand sneaks up to the back of his neck, where you carefully play with a few strands of hair. As sweet as he tries to keep the kiss, there’s obvious fire and hunger in it. This has definitely been on his mind as much as it has been on yours.

V. Secrets and good books

You turn the page of your book. “No, wait, I wasn’t finished yet.” You groan and tilt your head to face Mattheo, whose arms are around you, as you both lay in bed. “You’re a slow reader.” He frowns. “No, I’m not, but in case you haven’t noticed there’s a pretty girl in my arms and that’s distracting.” You can’t keep yourself from smiling and blushing. Cheeky bastard, giving me compliments and stuff, so annoying, those damn Slyterins. Reluctantly you turn the page back, but at the same time you lean into him purposely distracting him. His eyes immediately lock with yours and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls over so you’re under him and he starts mercilessly attacking you with kisses, but suddenly you hear something. You push Mattheo off of you. “I hear something, someone’s coming. Quick, hide in here.” Without another thought you push the dark lord’s son into your closet.

Mattheo when he realises a Hufflepuff just forced him into a closet and now he has to listen to Hermione rant about Ron.

“Merlin! Ron’s the worst!” Hermione slams the door open and starts ranting for 10 minutes straight. It takes a lot of work and lame excuses to get her out of your room. When you finally manage to get her out, Mattheo doesn’t waste a second to open the closet door. “Ron is such an ass.” Mattheo says with a ridiculous voice, making you shake your head. “Also, wear this to the party tonight.” He says holding a dress he had found in your closet while he was in there. “Please.” He pouts.

VI. This one’s taken

“Honestly, hiding in a hufflepuff closet from Granger, was a situation I never expected to find myself in.” Mattheo said as he passed the bottle of firewhiskey to Theodore who was still grinning after hearing Mattheo’s story. “How long are you going to keep this a secret?” Mattheo just shrugged, he hadn’t really thought about it. Mattheo hadn’t spotted you at the party, but he knew you were here somewhere so his eyes kept scanning the room for your perfect figure.

Cedric stood next to you when he swung his arm around your neck and leaned in while pointing at a guy he started hanging out with a few weeks ago. “This is Liam.” You smile politely to the guy that Cedric’s pointing at as you continue to gently move with the music. “Nice to meet you.” Cedric lets go of you and his spot is filled by the new guy. Liam is definitely a fun guy, he’s interested in books and gives you tips on ideal reading spots. However, he’s not Mattheo and your eyes can’t help but search for your boyfriend.

“Damn, should we tell Matt?” Draco asks Blaise, oblivious to the fact that Theo and Mattheo are standing behind him. “Tell me what?” Draco’s eyes widen and he curses himself. Blaise points towards you and Liam. “That mcflirty is hanging out with your girl.” Mattheo finally finds you in the crowd and he instantly feels himself boil up. Liam’s hand doesn’t touch you yet but it's hovering over your lower back, while his lips are dangerously close to your face as he’s talking to you. Mattheo feels himself cool down a bit when he sees you take a step away from the guy and lean towards Luna. “Remember what your girl said Riddle, a week of no sex for every punch you throw.” Mattheo rolls his eyes, but then continues to watch you dance in that cute dress he had told you to wear.

When Mattheo hears the music change he downs his drink and walks over to you. You don’t see him approaching since your back is turned towards him, but when you suddenly feel a chest against you and a warm breath in your neck you immediately know it’s him. You tilt your head and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek, while his hands snake around your body. “I think it’s time we stop sneaking around. I would hate it if some guy got the wrong idea.” He whispers into your ear and your eyes shoot up to Liam, who clearly wasn’t pleased. Mattheo on the other hand is very pleased. He pushes his crotch against your ass and his hands move to your hips, while he continues to kiss your neck until you turn to face him and he catches your lips with his.

Hermione’s eyes roll between you and her drink, wondering what she drank to see what she's seeing right now. “I always thought they looked cute together.” Luna blurs. “Wicked.” The Weasley twins sing as they watch your little public make-out. “I’m pretty sure all of Hogwats will know about us by tomorrow.” You say when Mattheo finally releases your lips. He can’t help but smirk when he sees all eyes are on you. “Good. Then let’s go, because I like that dress on you, but princes it’s going to look even better on my bedroom floor.” He spins you around and picks you up, you immediately wrap your legs around him, while kissing him.

Word count: 2950

This was not proofread. If you spotted an error, let me know. Lovies!

[bucklway]

was adam meant to free roam the bathroom?

isn’t it so unfair that adam’s key fell down the drain? it’s like he didn’t even have a chance to escape..

but isn’t that the point?

in saw 3, john tells amanda “you didn’t test anyones will to live, instead, you took away their only chance. your games were unwinnable.” and we are shown a montage of these unwinnable games. we see her fighting eric, troy in the classroom trap, kerry in the angel trap..

and her throwing adam’s key in the bathtub..

so how is amanda giving adam his key making his game unwinnable? and why does john consider that moment unfair?

is this meant to imply that amanda wasn’t supposed to do this?

maybe adam was meant to discover this key at some point, like the box in the wall, and free himself before 6. this would make it much harder for lawrence to kill him, adam could hide, he could potentially even escape. or maybe when the game was over, john would decide wether or not adam was worthy of living, getting the key for him. those options feel much more fair then his only mode of freedom falling down the drain the second he wakes up.

let’s talk about what john says in adam’s tape and if it confirms or denies this theory,

he begins with “up until now, you’ve simply sat in the shadows, watching others live out their lives.” then he actually gives adam an objective, a way to win the game, “are you going to watch yourself die today, or do something about it?”

john seems to think that it’s possible for adam to win the game, he’s meant to take control of his life, and escape.

adam managed to stay alive until 6, but he was still left to die.. so what gives? adam learns to appreciate his life and everything, he learns that he wants to be alive “i want to live!” however, what john had told him was “are you going to watch yourself die, or do something about it?”

when you really think about it, adam didn’t do anything to earn his survival. he killed zepp, sure, but that was only after the time limit was up, and he only did it to save lawrence, the man who attempted to kill him like 5 minutes ago. john certainly didn’t view that as enough, because he left him to rot.

“do something about it” could’ve meant that he was supposed to kill lawrence, which i don’t know how he could’ve done that if he’s chained to the other side of the room..

lmk what u guys think!

[chosolala]

please make toji headcannons !!!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ toji headcannons

sorry this took so long anon :[ but here u go!!

here are just some of my silly little toji headcannons (mostly relationship stuff)

ֶָ֢⊹𐙚

his love language would probably be physical touch so whenever he can he would just have an arm around or be cuddled up to you

also has a hard time voicing his emotions so when he’s feeling negative he literally just comes up behind you and hugs you

whenever he gets paid from missions and stuff he always takes you on vacations, weather it’s to a foreign country or just a nice hotel in the city :]

not to be weird but i feel like he’s a d1 freak 😭😭

probably pretends not to like watching your shows (like any cartoon or reality tv) with you but asks you to put them on

sleeps in stupid graphic pajama pants, like he has coca-cola logo pajama pants for some reason

the type of guy to ask you to come to the living room to hand him the remote (it’s literally a foot away from him)

probably a really good cook if he actually puts energy into it

the type of guy to ruin every picture he’s in bc of that smile (im so sorry)

whenever he gets paid he comes home with new clothes for you that shiu helped him pick (even if you don’t like most of it A+ for effort :]

he’s a night owl, he’ll stay up late with you but he can never sleep in, his body doesn’t let him

whenever you’re tired he carries your purse for you like proudly on his shoulder and everything (don’t be shocked if you get it back a few dollars short)

if you’re really really tired he just picks you up with ease and carries you home

he’s really into conspiracy theories, even if he doesn’t believe them he shares them to freak people out

tried to convince shiu that the earth was flat and they genuinely got into a fight over it

oddly good at like handy man stuff, broken toilet? tojis on it. water pressure off? tojis coming with his tool box

very street smart :3

he’s only able to fall asleep if he can feel that you’re near him

he wears headbands sometimes to keep his hair out of his face

laughs at horror movies when the dumb main character gets killed (everyone saw it coming)

sometimes he randomly goes from joking around with you to really serious and he only does it to freak you out, he’s fighting back his laughing

curses a lot when he talks even when he doesn’t need to and especially when he shouldn’t loll

he feeds stray animals but very sneakily because he doesn’t want anyone to catch him and think he’s soft

the type of guy to hand you an empty bag of chips and be like “here you can have the rest”

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest IV

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: mentions of hand injury, idiots in love, feels, jealousy, racism against orcs, angry behaviour, shouting, fight gets slightly physical, bruised arm, crying, angst (i'm sorry). I think that's all.

A/N: good news result in long chapters. thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has wished me good luck with my interview, you guys are angels. please enjoyxx💜💜

~

“You’re in love.”

“I’m what now!?” Bucky chuckled dismissively as he dropped his axe.

Bucky had spent half a day at home, refraining from going to work because of his hand’s condition, but as much as he loved staying home with her, he knew he wasn’t made to take a break.

So he thought he would visit, talk to Sam for a bit and maybe get some pent up ‘feelings’ out on some tree logs. His metal arm was still working just fine after all.

“I said, you’re in love with your human wife,” Sam repeated, smiling so warmly that Bucky wanted to smack him.

“I got her a few weeks ago.” Bucky shook his head in denial of the mere idea of him falling for anyone, let alone a human.

He did love Sam and Sarah, but that was it. They were the only humans he could tolerate. He hated the rest of them. Hell, he hated the human half of himself.

Bucky was just trying to make life easier for himself, that was all. He has been through enough conflicts and he didn’t need this in his marriage too. He deserved to live a normal life like everybody else.

Yes, he was courting her, and maybe he did constantly crave the feel of her body against his ever since she let him hug her the night of the injury, and he was definitely getting hopeful now that she hadn’t tried to run for a whole half day, but that didn’t mean he was in love! Did it?

“And now you’re in love with her.” Sam smirked, knowing how much it drove Bucky crazy that a female human had him on his knees for her love.

“Quit saying that!” Bucky stood up, ready to walk away from his annoying friend.

“Why does it make you so angry that you’re in lo—”

“Don’t,” Bucky warned him, eyes angry and glaring.

“—ve?”

“I am not in love with her, okay! She’s human! Plus, that girl drives me crazy! Do you know how many times I had to bring her back after she’d tried to run in the first two weeks? Five fucking times! That’s almost once every two days, Sam. And she only had one foot working!” Bucky ranted heatedly, desperate to negate his best friend’s theory.

Was he in love with her? And if Sam could see it, did that mean she could too?

“Well, why do you care to bring her back? Why not just let her run?” Sam shrugged, internally dying for Bucky to acknowledge his feelings.

“She could die out there! Humans are weak.”

“So?” Sam probed, intentionally ignoring Bucky’s remark about humans’ strength.

“So— so I signed all those things when she was offered to me. She can’t— I can’t—”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t let her get hurt,” Bucky admitted lowly, sitting down on a log with a loud sigh.

“Why does that make you so upset?” Sam dug deeper.

“Because I think you’re right. I think I might be in love with her.” Bucky rubbed his eye with his good hand, pushing his hair back angrily.

“And?”

“And she thinks I’m the devil.” Bucky’s face fell to his palms.

“Did she ever say that to you out loud?” Sam asked, touching the end of his sharpened blade.

“She doesn’t need to, Sam. I see it in her eyes every time I find her after she’d tried to run away.” Bucky’s voice was broken like his friend has never heard before.

“I thought you said everything was better after your injury?”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna last forever.” Bucky gave a sad grin, “she’s soon gonna go back to seeing me the same as before.”

“Well, it’s up to you to change her mind, Buck.” Sam patted his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Bucky sighed once more before getting up.

Sam was a human. A very handsome one with much less scars and non-icy skin. He would never understand. It would never work. She hated him.

He could continue trying, but it wouldn’t change anything of the way she felt about him and their marriage. She had told him time and time again how she felt about both.

“Going home already?”

“Yeah, I can’t miss the running away bit. It’s my favourite,” he sighed, Sam's laugh trailing behind him.

“Smile at her for a change.”

“Shut up.” I do smile at her. I only ever smile at her.

“Sarah loved the jam by the way!” Sam yelled.

“I’ll let her know!” Bucky yelled back before exhaling sadly.

Sam would never understand. Her taking pity on him those past couple of hours was nothing more than sympathy and likely even guilt.

Sam would never understand that of all the eyes in the world, it seems like Bucky has managed to fall for the only ones that knew how to hurt him, the eyes that would only look at him as a disgusting, frightening monster.

~

When Bucky got home, everything was creepily in place. His door was closed like he had left it and he actually had to use his key to open it for the first time in a while.

Stepping inside, the warm smell of roast chicken welcomed him back.

The house was warm because all the windows were actually shut, too. It was all so calm and homely; the orc was seriously worried.

And then he heard it: his human wife’s sweet voice, humming the melody of a song unfamiliar to him. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

Bucky carefully shut the door behind him, not wanting her peaceful mood to end so soon as he tried to take lighter steps to where she was.

Much to his dismay though, she needed something from the other side of the kitchen and when she turned around she saw Bucky and gasped, jumping embarrassingly high.

“You scared me!” She whined, holding a hand to her heart.

“Sorry.” Bucky smirked, entertained by how cute she looked when startled.

“Welcome home,” she mumbled with a bit-back grin, holding onto his forearms before getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

She never told him, but she was unbelievably thankful when he didn’t specify which type of kiss he expected weeks ago, and even more thankful when he didn’t object to her pecking his cheek before burying herself under the covers.

Life with Bucky has gotten undeniably familiar lately and leaving him was all of a sudden an idea that didn’t interest her as much as before.

Everything he was saying and doing has brought her closer to him without her even comprehending it.

As the days passed, she had realized running away was too exhausting, too risky, and for what? It wasn’t like she had a home to run to or a treasure buried somewhere or a lover worth escaping her orc for.

Her orc.

Hers.

A word she never felt the meaning of until the day Bucky made her his wife.

Bucky was the first and only one to present to her a taste of something she has never had: the feeling of exclusively owning things.

The smile that graced her face when she brushed her hair the first time with the brush Bucky got her was new and unprecedented.

Her brush, he called it.

Her shoes. Her chair. Her towel. Her clothes. Her books. Her side of the bed. Her cottage. Her kitchen.

And her husband.

Everything was brand new and completely hers.

Nothing was handed down to her, nothing was used before the minute her fingers had touched it. None of the things Bucky gifted her had previous owners, including him and his heart.

Most importantly, she didn’t have to share any of it with anybody.

“You’re home,” Bucky said, a surprised yet very happy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“I thought the wife was supposed to say that,” she replied playfully, going back to the bubbling pot.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the good mood she seemed to be in. He was liking this.

He watched her sprinkle some black pepper into the soup as he came behind her.

She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her even when they weren’t touching and it had her heartbeat going crazy.

“Thank you, little human,” Bucky whispered, before he leaned down and pecked her cheek as well, his stubble and blunt tusks tickling her jaw.

She felt her whole body jolt with electricity at the simple graze of his lips and tusks on her skin as she closed her eyes.

Bucky left the kitchen and went to the bathroom but she was still hot as if his warmth never left her.

And when she opened her eyes and absentmindedly reached her fingertips to touch her cheek, she found herself smiling too.

What was happening to her? What was this foreign feeling lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the kitchen?

“Sam’s sister loved your strawberry jam by the way!” Bucky shouted to her from the bathroom, making her jump again before smiling to herself.

He didn’t use Sarah’s name on purpose, not wanting to ruin her happy mood as he had noticed how angry she got every time he would say it.

“I’ll make her more tomorrow!” She replied with a grin, proud of her hand’s work, her jealousy long forgotten after Bucky’s words of the night before.

After all, how could she be jealous when she was the one that Bucky was looking at like that?

~

When she finished setting up the table and Bucky didn’t come out of the bathroom, she got a little worried.

He never took too long during his showers, and now that he only had one arm to use, she thought he would cut his showers even shorter.

What if his wound was bleeding again and he didn’t want to tell her and was trying to fix it by himself inside the bathroom? She knew she should have stopped him from going to the yard!

“Bucky.” She knocked on the door softly, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, little human?” Bucky instantly opened the door for her.

And he looked like a dream.

Steam has surrounded him inside the bathroom, water drops from his still-wet hair dripping down his muscular, bare chest and for the first time since Bucky has been naked around her, she found herself looking at him. Actually looking.

Bucky’s chest was so broad, beefy and ribbed down to his abdomen. Scars of all sizes and shapes littered the beautiful, icy greyish skin, a reminder of the battles he had fought and all the sacrifices he had made.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a pang of sympathy coursing through her as she could only imagine the pain he must have had to endure.

Still, she found her hands tingling in curiosity, desperate to know what tracing the healed skin would feel like under her fingertips.

Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, a sight that both captivated and unnerved her, stirring a flurry of unfamiliar emotions in her chest that she struggled to contain.

She averted her gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Are—” she chocked, her voice barely above a whisper as she coughed it out, “are you okay? You took a while.”

“Yeah, I’m just having a hard time drying up my hair with one arm,” Bucky reassured her, chuckling lightly at his dilemma as he let the towel around his neck drop.

He was completely oblivious to the way he just made her face burn up as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“Come.” She took Bucky’s hand in hers, careful not to squeeze his palm, and led him outside to their bed.

It took Bucky a second to move his feet, but when he did, he felt like he was being carried on top of a cloud.

She felt herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness, curiosity and… desire. A new sensation was tingling all over her body, specifically in places she didn’t need to be tingling right now.

Positioning herself between his parted legs, she reached to take the towel from around Bucky’s neck.

His eyes watched her, surprise flickering in them as he realized what she was going to do, unable to believe what was happening.

Sensing her nervousness, Bucky offered her a reassuring, grateful smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

And as she began to carefully pat his damp hair dry, her touch tentative and her eyes focused, he felt warmth welling up inside him.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at his bare shoulder and chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the engrossing sight. It was a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced before, her heart racing with unparalleled excitement.

The awkwardness of the situation began to fade bit by bit as she focused more on the task at hand, in its place growing an overwhelming sense of closeness and familiarity.

Bucky’s hair was so soft under her fingertips as she took the towel up and down the brown locks. She wished she had given herself a chance to touch it more before.

As she finished drying her orc’s hair, she met his gaze with a shy bite of her lip, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

Bucky reached out to take her hands, his smile appreciative as his lips pressed a deep kiss on each palm, silently thanking her for her kindness and care.

~

“I didn’t know your cooking was so good. You surprise me every day,” Bucky praised, as she filled his mouth with more lentil soup, trying not to think of his conversation with Sam or the way his body was still on fire from the mere act of her drying his hair for him.

He couldn’t even believe she was feeding him after seeing him struggle to keep the food on his spoon using his left hand.

“All the girls at the orphanage know how to cook. They teach us all sorts of things and make us to be good housewives,” she replied, suddenly nostalgic of her days at the orphanage, curious to know how, where and when Bucky got the chance to see her back then.

Bucky didn’t say anything, busying his mouth with chewing some bread as his smile shrank.

She didn’t look happy. Why did she stay then? Was she planning on running away at night that day? Maybe she put something in the food?

“I’m glad you like your dinner though,” she said, breaking the thick silence with a soft smile as she fed the orc a piece of chicken.

“Why didn’t you try to leave today?” Bucky couldn’t hold back.

She was taken aback by his question. She thought he wanted her here.

Was he finally done? Did he want her out? Was he not going to look for her this time? Has Bucky given up on her? Was he going to leave her be had she gotten out today?

Most importantly, she didn’t know how to answer because it seemed like she was done running away from her new life with him, and she didn’t know if she could admit that.

“I– did you want me to?” She asked, her voice strained as she tried to hold in the tears.

“No! No, of course not!” He assured her quickly.

“Then?” She chewed on her lip.

“I don’t want you to stop running if it makes you feel alive,” Bucky told her, his blue eyes gushing with love he didn’t intend to show, “I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting this at all, all the tingles she had hardly managed to shake off after drying Bucky’s wet hair coming back to attack her.

How were these words coming out of an orc! And why did they make her heart stutter in its beats?

“I love your fiery spirit and I’m afraid I’m killing it by keeping you here against your wishes. I never want to be the one to snuff your fire out.” Bucky admitted, eyes sincere as he watched her.

She just stared at him for a moment, stunned as her heart skipped yet another beat.

If he only knew that he was the one who had managed to bring this fiery personality to life.

Bucky respected her silence and went back to enjoying his dinner, not wanting to push her for a reply. She could take her time.

She kept staring at him in confusion for another minute before taking her almost untouched plate and getting up.

She almost ran to the kitchen with her hand on her heart.

What was going on with her? Her heart wasn’t seriously beating this loud for the orc. Could it be?

He sounded so selfless and spoke so gently like he has never before and she was overwhelmed.

His words were doing things to her that she has never felt before. What was wrong with her?

She knew she had caught herself staring at him without a shirt just minutes ago, maybe admiring his eyelashes as he slept in some early mornings, but she rendered it curiosity and nothing more.

She shook her head, her thoughts startling to her as she emptied her plate in the garbage and started washing it vigorously.

Bucky no longer had an appetite, sighing at her reaction.

He told himself he could understand, but it was still hurtful the way she jumped out of her chair.

He left his plate on the table, not wanting to invade her privacy by going to the kitchen before leaving the cottage altogether.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

~

She revisited the subject the same afternoon though, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between her and Bucky. Not any longer.

“I don’t wanna leave anymore,” she admitted timidly, making Bucky’s smile betray him and his usual frowning.

“But I don’t like being locked away in here all day either,” she said carefully, scared to upset him.

“Where do you wanna go? The forest is dangerous, little human.” Bucky was back to frowning at the thought of anything bad happening to her again.

It was torture for him when her foot was still healing and he was the most relieved when it finally did. He couldn’t just let her roam around when she didn’t know the area.

“Take me out when you come back from work maybe? Or even on your day off,” she suggested, desperate to see the world.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We can walk around the woods before it gets dark, you could show me your shop, I could meet Sam? Or we could even go to the market!” She suggested eagerly.

She has been locked up for so long and she didn’t want to continue her life like this.

Bucky actually thought about it and he didn’t hate the idea. Taking her out with him would ensure her safety. He would be by her side and he would protect her. He also liked the thought of taking her out and properly courting her even if she didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

He said he didn’t want to kill her spirit by keeping her in here and she gave him the solution.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded at her with a smile.

“Okay?” She exclaimed happily, not believing Bucky would actually take her out to see around.

“Okay.” He nodded again reassuringly, her happiness making him laugh.

“Well, don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked suggestively, gesturing to his hand.

Bucky laughed, nodding, “put your shoes on.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She involuntarily gave his healing hand a squeeze, kissing his cheek before running to get her shoes.

Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he would be able to hold himself together and not completely melt under her sweet company.

“You’ve got to promise me though,” he said.

She looked at him questioningly as she slipped one foot into a shoe.

“No running away, little human.”

“No running away. Promise.” She promised, shaking her head with a shy smile.

Bucky smiled big, taking her smaller hand in his as she grabbed her basket in the other, ready to browse the market with her husband.

Her husband. That was starting to sound unquestionably comforting.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?” She tilted her head with a grin.

“You owe me a kiss,” Bucky said, his tone serious.

“No, I don’t! If anything, I just gave you an extra kiss!”

“Yes, you do. From that morning. You’re still one kiss behind!”

“I just made up for it!”

“Doesn’t count. That one covers the night before.” Bucky shrugged, a smile etched on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” She kissed Bucky’s cheek, “stop going around saying other girls’ names though.”

Bucky laughed, “I only know one!”

“Still too many,” she whispered under her breath, but Bucky heard it, smiling from ear to ear as he took his hand in hers, taking the right path out of the woods. ~ It was a beautiful afternoon, full of warm sunshine and fruitful deals. She has got some pretty good stuff for really good prices.

She couldn’t believe Bucky actually gave her pocket money.

He didn’t want her to have to ask him for money every time something caught her eye. He wanted her independent, fulfilled and brave as she bought herself whatever her heart desired.

Her heart was so full and her smile was inerasable.

Bucky didn’t let go of her hand all day and she actually liked it so much that she never complained. The feel of his calloused skin against her soft palm wasn’t like anything she has felt before.

She didn’t want to let go of his hand even while looking at the different stands and booths at the market.

But she eventually liked the flower stand too much and told Bucky she would take a look at them while he continued buying them the fruits he was picking.

“Good afteroon,” a smooth voice interrupted her admiration of the potted plants before her, making her look up for a second.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled coyly.

“Any favorites?” The handsome man inside the booth asked her.

“All of them,” she giggled softly, the sound catching Bucky’s ears at once.

The man laughed back, “okay, I think I have something special for you. How about this one?” He brought her a purple flower from the batch hidden behind him inside the booth.

“Oh, how beautiful! What is this one?” She wondered, amazement sparkling in her eyes at the sight of the pretty petals.

“That is a Globemaster Allium. Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked, staring at her desirously as she looked at the flower.

“Yes, she’s stunning!”

“I’m Cole by the way—”

She heard Bucky clear his throat next to her and looked up at once, the innocent awe in her eyes softening the orc a little.

“Look, Bucky! Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” She pointed to the flower pot excitedly.

Bucky leaned in, his frown scaring her a little, her breath hitching when his lips tickled the shell of her ear, “no, little human, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She chocked on her own saliva, hiding her hot face with her hand as she coughed, “Bucky!” She whined with a shy smile.

Where did that come from!

“Let’s go,” Bucky said with a nod of his head, eyes stern as he glared at Cole.

“Can—” She held his wrist, “can I have it?” She asked softly, gesturing to the flower pot.

Bucky wanted to say no. He didn’t want her to have this farmer’s flower. But he couldn’t say no to those hopeful, beautiful eyes of hers.

“Fine.” He watched her get the money out of her pocket and she smiled gratefully as she almost set them down on Cole’s counter.

“It’s on the house,” Cole said, still smiling dreamily at her.

She could all but swallow as she gave a polite smile back before looking up at Bucky for help.

“Take your goddamn money.” Bucky made a quick job of paying for the flower, taking the money from her and slamming it on the counter, making the whole booth shake.

He quickly took his wife home, deciding that was enough socialization for the both of them for the day.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was loving jealousy on her orc. It felt so intoxicating to have someone love her so much that he was jealous of other men talking to her.

She wouldn’t tell Bucky, but she would probably spend the nights of the next week smiling at the wall every time she remembered how he held her hand back home just a little bit tighter that day.

Her own heart was running wild at the sight of the orc now and she didn’t want it any other way.

~

“Now you know how it feels,” she teased with a smile as they were getting ready for bed.

Bucky couldn’t let it go, talking about how they were never going to stop by that farmer’s flower booth ever again.

“That’s not the same! I was never into Sarah! But that man was openly ogling you!” Bucky grumbled, his frown digging deep into the skin of his forehead.

“He was just being nice, trying to sell his flowers,” she laughed, upsetting Bucky even more.

How couldn’t she see it? The guy was all over her!

“He was flirting and you were all giggles and blushes.” Bucky copied her, going to the bed and burying himself under the covers, facing the wall.

He understood now why she had done that.

“Hey, that’s my spot!” She joked, not knowing if Bucky was being serious.

“Not tonight,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

“Bucky,” she whined, uncovering her orc’s face.

Bucky didn’t reply, pushing himself closer to the wall.

She tried to bring him on his back by the shoulder like he so easily did her a couple of night ago, but he was too strong for her and his body wouldn’t budge.

She huffed, “okay, you left me no choice.”

Bucky remained still, wanting to see what she meant by that as he felt her shift behind him.

Before he knew it, she was on top of his bicep, trying to slot herself between his body and the wall.

“What on earth—”

“You started it, Bucky!” She said, voice determined as she kept pushing, trying to squeeze herself in the small space accessible.

Bucky looked at her in amusement for a second before moving back, making her body drop as larger space became available.

She landed with the tiniest “ouff” on the mattress, facing Bucky on her side with her back to the wall, its coolness helping soothe the heat rising to the surface of her skin.

That was the closest she had been to Bucky since their hug the night of his injury, face to face as his passionate sapphire eyes watched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Hi,” Bucky replied with a charming smile, smoothing some of her ruffled strands back in place.

She stared at the orc’s eyes, not the slightest bit scared of the fact that she was trapped against the wall by his huge body.

“You’re not the only one who wants to be loyal to this marriage, Bucky,” she said, surprising Bucky and herself, “I don’t want the farmer. I don’t want anyone else.” but you.

Bucky smiled in disbelief, taken aback by her words, and she took it as permission to move closer to his chest. He instinctively wrapped her up in a protective hug, wondering how he was able to hold himself back from kissing her.

She pushed her face into her orc’s chest, his scent and warmth engulfing her into a protective bubble.

She couldn’t believe she said the words she has just said and it made her bury her burning face deeper in Bucky’s arms.

He could only hug her tighter, his nose in her sweet-smelling hair as his smile grew bigger.

This moment right there was everything Bucky has ever wished for. He could die a happy orc right then and there.

~

It became a habit for them to go out to the village on Bucky’s day off. They were both having a great time, getting closer and falling harder.

Cole hasn’t spoken to her again after learning that the snow orc was actually her husband, and she respected Bucky’s feelings and never approached Cole’s booth no matter how pretty the plants on his stand were.

Market outings were their thing now and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.

She didn’t want anyone else’s attention but Bucky’s anyway. His hand has almost fully healed and she could now squeeze it all she wanted whenever she got excited about anything they encountered.

One thing did occur that annoyed her though and that was the way the jewelry lady would look at her every time she and Bucky would pass by. The woman had so much pity in her eyes when she saw her hand in an orc’s and she hated it.

She despised the way people misjudged her orc when he was far better than any human man she could’ve ever ended up with.

Yet, the lady kept giving her those pitiful looks, probably thinking Bucky had enslaved her or something.

But enough was enough.

When Bucky was busy looking at the knives, she made her way to the jewelry lady, determined to put an end to the ridiculousness.

“He is my husband,” she sternly told the lady in the jewelry stand, taking the chance that Bucky wasn’t listening.

“Oh.” The lady quickly gave a kind smile, turning from concerned about her to happy for her, “I apologize for misjudging you, dear. I was only worried about you. We’ve all heard stories about him.”

“Well, that’s all they are. Stories.” She ferociously defended, her eyes still stern.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sincerely expressed her regret, squeezing her hand.

She nodded with a small smile, accepting the older woman’s apology.

“I don’t see a ring on your hand.” The jewelry lady gestured to the collection of rings in her glass box with a wink.

“Oh.”

The sentence caught Bucky’s ears as he turned away to look at her embarrassed face.

“We didn’t get time to buy one. It all happened so quickly,” she explained awkwardly and Bucky’s expression fell.

“I have a pretty collection if you wanna take a look, and don’t worry about the price,” the older lady suggested kindly.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Choose what you like, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered to her, immediately by her side when he saw her eyes skimming over the jewelry, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the human marriage traditions. I should’ve gotten you one sooner.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to,” she reassured with a tender smile.

She didn’t need a ring to know that she was Bucky’s.

“I want to. I want you to wear my ring, little human.” Bucky raised her hands to his lips, placing the softest kisses on her each finger.

Her heart surged as a shy smile spread on her lips, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Okay.” She nodded happily, feeling like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Though very expensive, Bucky ended up buying her the ring she chose. It was the prettiest gold ring with a moss agate blue diamond.

She tried to talk him out of it, wanting to pick something cheaper, but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

She has never felt as special as she felt with Bucky’s ring on her finger. It was the prettiest thing from the most handsome orc.

And in that very moment, she was the happiest that she trusted her gut; that she gave Bucky, and herself a chance for this marriage to be something more than a contractual deal.

Bucky couldn’t believe she has finally let him make her his. When he slipped that ring on her tiny finger, he felt like he was king of the world.

While walking back to their cottage, a new dream got unlocked inside of her, one that included her and Bucky and their very own little stand in the market.

“Can we stop by the shop before we go home?” She asked tentatively.

“Sure, why? Did you forget something there yesterday?”

She has been to the shop a couple of times, curious to meet the important people in Bucky’s life and possibly have friends of her own, too.

“No, just wanna show Sarah the ring,” she said, a shy smile lighting up her happy face.

Bucky brought her hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger this time, “to the shop it is.”

~

Everything was going amazingly and she wished with all her heart that it would stay that way, but unfortunately, the very next day was a day for another fight that none of them saw coming.

Bucky still hasn’t recovered from her little stunt a few weeks ago and today he came back to find the cottage empty again.

He should have locked the door. He shouldn’t have trusted that a ring on her finger might stop her old habits or give her a magical change of heart.

What about all the small moments she had shared? Did those mean nothing to her?

Bucky’s anger and feeling of betrayal wiped away everything nice that had happened between the two of them, only remembering that she never wanted to be here in the very first place.

“Why are you so adamant about making me lose my mind?” Bucky asked, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“I’m not! Would you just listen?!” She yelled back, startled by the harsh treatment.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bucky shouted as if he didn’t hear her.

“I was just—”

“Wandering through the forest alone is dangerous, I’ve told you time and again, and yet you keep doing it!”

“Would you listen to me?!” 

“No! You acted like you would stop running, so what changed?!” Bucky threw his big arms in the air, making her take a step back.

Bucky looked bigger than he usually did when he was livid like that.

“I wasn’t running!” She repeated, her voice tinged with anger of her own at the distrust.

“Stop lying!” Bucky growled, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as she tried not to wince at the way Bucky held her forearm, her jaw clenched defiantly.

“Then what were you doing up the hill, huh?” Bucky unconsciously squeezed her arm harder.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but Bucky wouldn’t release her.

“You think you’re the only one who has fucking feelings?” Bucky shook her in his hold, unintentionally bruising her further.

She cried out but it fell on deaf ears, “Bucky, let me go!”

“Do you think what you do doesn’t affect me just because I’m not a goddamn human?!” He forced her closer, making her tears fall as he barked in her face.

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing through the spacious room.

“Bucky, please,” she tried again, not wanting to fight anymore.

Bucky finally listened, suddenly shocked at his actions as he let her arm go.

It’s been so long since he had made her cry and he just ruined everything good he had worked on building with her.

She just stood there, whimpering in pain as she held her arm to her chest.

Bucky watched her roll the sleeve of her winter dress up to look at her arm and there they were: thick fingerprints on her flesh.

“I— I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get closer to look at her arm, swallowing hard.

To his surprise, she let him.

“I’m sorry, little human.” Bucky wiped a few of her tears away, regret evident in his voice.

“I wasn’t running,” she repeated, pushing her hands in the pockets of her dress, “I was collecting berries to decorate the cake I made earlier.” She pulled handfuls of now ruined wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries out of her pockets and dropped them on the wooden table for him to see.

She left Bucky alone to stare at the berries and went to the kitchen.

And boy did he stare.

He felt so stupid and ashamed at the way he had reacted. He just hurt her and she wasn’t even trying to leave. He wouldn’t let her explain either and had unjustly judged her.

She got out a cold water bottle from the fridge, pushing it to her bruised arm.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, shame branded on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not knowing what to do to correct his mistake.

“What do you think?!” She irritably snapped at him, waving her bruised arm in the air.

“I just wanted to help!” Bucky barked back.

“Well, I don’t want your help!” She shouted.

“Fine! Don’t want it!” Bucky walked out, his feet stomping on the wooden floors.

He stormed out of the cottage, violently slamming the door behind him.

Bucky then realized what he has just done and how he had made the situation even worse. He kicked a rock so hard he was sure it flew to the other side of the forest as he saw birds flying disruptively.

“Damn it!” He yelled out loud, slamming his fist to the door, making her flinch inside the cottage.

The fight between the orc’s rough exterior and his rather tender feelings for her was torturing Bucky. What he meant to show was that he cared about her and was worried for her, but instead he’d done what he’d done.

She, on the other side of the wall, irately got out of the kitchen with the trash bin and swept the berries from the table, throwing them in the garbage.

When Bucky got inside again, she was cleaning the stain of the berries from the table, her features still twisted in a frown.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to fix this, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he left the cottage once more, leaving her all alone.

She sat down with a huff, throwing the cloth in her hand across the room.

She let her tears run in frustration.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night where they enjoyed a delightful desert that she has worked hard on making and was going to work hard on decorating.

She was trying to start a life with him. Why did he have to ruin it like that? She wasn’t running. How could she make him believe her?

She desperately wanted, needed Bucky to trust her.

She cried harder, feeling helpless in the face of her orc’s rage as her heart clenched at the thought of a happiness gone so soon.

Part V

~

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love

[sniigura-archive]

Softness within.

Adam x fem!reader

Part 1

CW/TW/Tags: Porn, Car sex, Semi Public, P in V, TW: Adam, COLLEGE AU!!!!, oral fem receiving, tell me if I missed smth, I wrote this at 2 am help me, breeding kink, pregnancy mention

Summary: Adam is either very charismatic or you don’t have a spine.

Adam ended up driving you home, after you punched in your address in his navigation system it didn’t take long for you to pass out. Shaking you awake, you scrambled out of Adam’s car, but sadly you weren’t fast enough since you still had to listen to Adam rant to you about the shit hole of a neighbourhood you live in.

He didn’t drive off till you safely entered your building.

Once you got home you didn’t even have the energy to get undressed, you barley took off your shoes and you were already in your bed. Pros of having a one bedroom apartment: the way to the bed is very short.

When you woke up everything felt like a fever dream. It felt so unreal, you were sure it was a weird sex dream coming up because of your repressed consciousness or whatever. You quickly threw away this theory, once you got into the shower. Ew. Having cold cum run down your thighs was not it.

Right so that happened. For real. Totally couldn’t potentially ruin your social life. That’s cool.

Checking your phone, you found texts messages from your friends. Since you all share locations they were happy to see you home after disappearing. Some kidnap jokes were made. You didn’t bother responding.

And just like that your life continued and you tried not to think of Adam anymore. Since you aren’t in the same friend group, don’t study the same subjects, and you’re just a master of avoiding awkward situations you didn’t see him the past 2 weeks. During these 2 weeks Adam found your insta, snapchat AND your phone number. In that order. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he found your secret AO3 account or something and started to spam you full with comments.

Him actually actively looking for you made you feel some type of way….and once those thoughts reached you, you basically slapped yourself. You have always sucked at responding to messages, your friends just call you when they need you. You didn’t even properly read Adam’s messages, leaving him on delivered. These messages caused you so much anxiety, that you immediately swiped them away in your notifications field when you saw them pop up.

Another thing you were worried about was that your period was 2 days late, which isn’t a lot considering you took Plan B and it messes with your hormones but it still had you on edge so bad. You ended up buying a pregnancy test, which you didn’t end up needing. Thank god.

The last weekend party you skipped. Sitting at home and catching up with work was how you spend your weekend. And once you saw everyone post the party on their stories and the messages in your group chats, your FOMO kicked in so hard that you had to attend the next one. So, here you were leaning against a wall with some cheap soda in your hand, because you don’t drink since you’re boring. And like always when you’re at a party, you realised you didn’t actually miss out on much.

If you could, you would scroll away at your phone. What’s stopping you? Easy:

Adam starring at you from across the room. Tots not uncomfortable. Starring at your phone now would be like throwing a rock at an sleeping ice bear. Since you basically ignored him for 2 weeks straight. You really know how stand in your own way. Some part of your brain told you not to provoke him too much.

Ok you were just going to run away this is ridiculous. Taking a good look around on how you could escape (your friends were going to murder you for disappearing AGAIN) you jumped nearly 10 feet into the air when you felt big hands on your hips and a body pressed against your back. The only logical reaction to this was to step on the guys foot and throw your drink at his face.

“Ow! What the fuck, you crazy bitch?” Adam yelled.

How the fuck was he able to get to you that fast? Without you noticing?? He’s so big what??

“Jesus, dude! You can’t sneak up on a girl like that!” You yelled back.

Thankfully not many eyes were on you guys, and the music was loud so people yelling to communicate wasn’t unusual.

Adam whipped the soda of his face, looking pissed. Thankfully there wasn’t much left in your cup anyways, the top part of his band shirt was only slightly soaked. Act cool, act casual. Crossing your arms over your chest you looked at him expectantly.

Even though he looked mad a second ago, taking in the sight of you seemed to cheer him right back up. Maybe it’s because of your short skirt.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Wanna get out off here?” Shit. Goosebumps from excitement crawled all over your skin. He smelled like the sweet soda, but also like deep cologne. Ah, you’re so so weak.

“Always.” The words left your lips before you could truly think about it.

Adam smirked down at you, placing a hand at the small of your back he started to lead you out of the house party.

That’s how you ended up in Adam’s car, while he zipped around town, trying to find a secluded place, his hand was up your skirt massaging messy circles into your clothed pussy. You on the other hand were spreading your legs further apart, trying and failing to muffle your moans. Even though it was at most 2 minutes, it felt like it took Adam hours to park the car. You clawed at his wrist, trying to get more stimulation out of him.

He reached a hand under his seat, sliding it back from the wheel as far as possible, while also reclining the back of the seat.

“Holy shit, babe.” Adam mumbled out, he reached across to grasp your ass with both his hands hoisting you up and successfully into his lap. Once you sat down on his lap you could feel his bulge right under your pussy. You gave it an experimental roll of your hips. Adam bit his lower lip, his hand flew to your hips, helping you grind down on him.

Grasping at his shoulders, you smashed your own lips into his, trying to steal his breath. Fucking hell, you don’t think you have ever carnally desired anyone as much as him. Adam was still grinding your cunt unto his dick by your hips while he explored your mouth with his tongue freely.

Once the kiss stopped so you could breathe, Adam took the opportunity to rip your tights apart, to have better access towards your private parts.

“Man! Why did you do that? You better buy me new ones, asshole.” You told him frustrated.

“Chillax, baby, I will buy you even better ones if it means you let me hit.” Fucker.

Adam pushed your wet panties to the side, gently easing in a finger, “So tell me. Who else did you fuck after me?” His words were anything but gentle.

“Shit..No one. I..I swear, Adam.” You spoke through gasps. His thumb started to stroke your clit.

With his other hand Adam roughly grasped your jaw into his hand, starring into you with his golden eyes. They reminded you of that of a hawk. He didn’t look too convinced.

“Please, Adam, only you can make me cum.” You whimpered out.

Adam grinned at you at your words, “Ain’t that the truth. You better start answering your fucking messages then, slut.” Another finger was entered into your hole, he curled them upwards, hitting sensitive spots which made you moan shamelessly.

“Bad…at replying.” You mumbled out.

Adam rolled his eyes at you, “Yeah, right, give me a better excuse and I might let you cum.”

It’s not a bad excuse, it’s your reality. Even though your screentime was embarrassingly high, messages were your personal final boss. Using both your hands to run them down the sides of your thighs, your right hand met the pocket garter you wear when you��re wearing a skirt, or dress. Pulling out your phone with one brain cell intact is one thing, but unlocking it is a whole other. Pulling up the messages app, shoved the device into his face. He can read. You think. You hope.

Once he stopped grasping at your jaw so roughly, you massaged the tense muscles. Adam scrolled through your chats, he looked very interested. You caught the glimpse of a chat from last year. Yikes.

Laying your head against his shoulder, you started kissing at his neck. You still had fucking hickeys and bite marks from him! Asshole. Adam left your messages app and was investigating your social media now. He looked through your phone like a man on a mission. If you had at least half your mind you would have already stopped him. But the happier he was at your innocence the more intensely he did rub circles into your clit, turning you to mush.

Throwing your phone on the passenger seat- if it bounces off and breaks or gets lost you were going to kill him- Adam placed a hand at the back of your head, starting another forceful kiss. While your tongues were busy, Adam eased the third finger into you. He pumped them in and out of you, testing the resistance. Taking him unprepared would be a really stupid idea.

With a well placed tug of your hair, Adam pulled you slightly away from him, “It’s fucking hot babe, how you ignore other people. Really. But shit, I need you to answer my fucking messages. I’m not like those other fucking clowns you keep around. Got it?” You quickly nodded your head at him, whatever gets him inside of you.

Slowly pulling out his fingers out of you, one by one, he licked a strip up his fingers while looking into your eyes. He pulled down his jeans zippers, pulling out his leaking dick. He gave himself a few good pumps with his soiled hand. Is he not wearing any underwear?? Yikes.

“Now, sit down on my fucking dick.” Adam smirked at you.

A moment of clarity hit you when you remembered the unused pregnancy test you have hidden away.

“Wait! Do you have a condom?” You looked hopefully at Adam.

He looked at you like you just ruined Christmas, easter and his birthday all at once, “What the fuck do we need that for?”

“I’m not interested in pregnancy. Today is not safe.” You told him, you tried to sound stern.

“You would look hot as fuck though, with swollen tits and a swollen stomach. You sure you don’t want me to cream you while you’re ovulating? Besides, it went well last time, didn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you. The gold piercing was reflecting the light of the street lamp outside.

His hand were rubbing at your hips, wandering further up till he helped you take off your sweater. You didn’t bother wearing anything under it because bras suck. He smiled at the sight of your bare chest as if he just won the lottery. He really was moody.

“I’m serious! I bought a fucking pregnancy test, I was so stressed last time.” Adam didn’t even bother looking into your eyes again, his huge hand pulling and rubbing at your nipples and chest. You had to bit your lip to keep from moaning. You had to be strong, at least once. You also really needed to finish this degree without getting pregnant.

“See babe? That’s what you need my number for. So you can fucking tell me that shit.” Adam made brief eye contact with you, before he leaned forward and started sucking at your nipple. His teeth carefully bit down. Your hands tangled themselves up in Adam’s hair. Because Adam pulled you forward for easier reach, your pussy ended up rubbing across Adam’s length. The groan which left his lips made your tit vibrate deliciously.

He really knows how to play you. With his hands he grasped your ass, massaging it before he dragged you across his dick. Your clit caught at his dick piercing, causing you to call out for Adam.

And if you had half a mind, you would simply open up the car door and climb out, to really make your point clear. And Adam would drag you back in, while complaining and get a condom somewhere (hopefully). But the risk of him actually letting you leave was not something you wanted. You just really needed to have him fill you up.

Tugging at his hair, he removed his mouth from your boob. He smiled at you, “Finally ready to get dicked down, baby?” Adam asked you in that arrogant tone of his.

Your own hands wandered across Adam’s chest, till you finally tugged at the bottom of his shirt, trying to take it off. Adam slightly sat up, removing his shirt and throwing it on the passenger seat. Fully taking in his tan olive skin, you realised just how hot he truly is. There was a scar across his right ribcage, his nipple piercing just made him 100 times more attractive, his ample stomach made you want to straight up cannibalise him while his happy trail made your mouth water. What a man.

Grasping his cheeks into your hands, you tilted his head up so he could properly look at you. Your thumb grazed over his lips, “Adam, sweetie..” You cooed down at him. You felt his dick twitch under you, “Don’t you want me to ride you till you’re sucked dry? I can only do that if you get a condom. C’mon…” His eyes were starring into your own.

Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, removing your hands from his cheeks. His face didn’t show any ounce of emotion. Ah, maybe that was the wrong move. Before regret could fully set in, Adam started swearing under his breath. He leaned forward suddenly, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth, while he rummaged through the glove department. Successfully he pulled out a condom, while probably also cursing you.

He leaned his back properly against the seat, ripping open the condom package with his teeth. Adam then glided the condom on his dick, after you scooted back to give him some space. Once he made sure everything was secured, you leaned forward to kiss him again. His hands were grasping your hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh.

Once the kiss stopped, you grasped Adam’s dick, lining it up with your pussy.

During your two week Adam break, you really told yourself that that would be a one time thing. That next time you would say no to him. That you don’t really need him or his attention and touch and whatever else he can give you. Well, you’re also a big fat liar so there is that.

Placing your own hand on Adam’s hand, you tugged it off to intervene your finger. Biting down at your lip you slowly glided down on Adam’s dick. Your other hand was placed on his shoulder, nails digged into this skin.

Slowly sliding down on him, your mouth fell open at the stretch. Adams eyes were focused on your pussy swallowing him whole, “You take me so well.” He groaned out.

Once you were fully sat down on Adam’s cock, you panted in the stuffy air. Taking a glance to your right, you saw the windows were all fogged up. At least you have the illusion of privacy.

Adam’s hand moved from your hip to your ass, grabbing at the fat and massaging it. He slowly rocked your hips back and forth with that movement. His other hand squeezed your intervened fingers, he then pulled your hand towards his mouth. Kissing your finger tips while looking into your eyes.

Ah. Why does everything he do make your head spin? Did he do fucking witchcraft or something on you??

Grasping with your hands both his shoulders, you started rocking your hips back and forth. First at an slow and careful speed, but then you started going faster. Till you started going properly up and down on him. Adam’s hand went to your tit, fondling and pinching, while his other hand moved from the back of your neck towards the top of your head. You stopped questioning Adam’s behaviour a while ago.

“If I knew you looked so hot on top, I would have let you ride me immediately last time.” Adam told you, his eyes were jumping all across your body, it seemed like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look, “But damn, babe, we really need to get you on birth control.”

“S’expensive.” You mumbled out.

Your forehead meet his neck. Maybe you should exercise more, the burn in your thighs was getting intense.

“..You getting tired there, baby?” A breathy chuckle left his lips.

Adam forced your movements to stop, to sit down properly with his hand moving to your hip. He smirked at you, probably knowing he was going to give you another unforgettable experience. Why couldn’t he have been average in everything he does? Noooo, he had to blow your mind away. Damn him and his solid experience.

Adam started thrusting up into you. First at a slow and deep pace. getting you used to the sensation, then he went faster and faster. His piercing scrapped against a sensitive spot in you.

“Right there!” You gasped into his neck, you then started to kiss and suck at his skin. Leaving your own mark. His one hand was still on top of your head, massaging your scalp and playing with your hair.

Thankfully Adam is decent at following orders, he kept up his pace, hitting the spot over and over. You could feel an orgasm approaching. You were probably straight up moaning against Adam’s ear, but he doesn’t seem to complain.

“I can promise you, baby, ‘m gonna get you whatever you want as long as ya going to be my lovely cum dump.” He mumbled out.

Woah orgasms and meaningless consumption??? Your two favourite things!

All you could muster was a whine. Because that was a big commitment. Maybe you’re going to ghost him again. An extra rough thrust made you see stars, and the ghosting idea left your mind and maybe you should marry him and be a housewife and give him as many children as he wants.

You threw your head back at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure and- ah, that’s why he had his hand on top of your head, when you slightly crashed your head into the car roof. It was more shock than anything else, but it still scared the orgasm out of you. Damn it.

Adam stopped his movement’s, his brows were furrowed at your scrunched up face. His hand rubbed at your head in concern, “You good?”

You nodded your head at him, looking into his eyes with your own teary ones, “..I lost my orgasm.” You mumbled out in the most pathetic voice imaginable. To your own defence, it is the worst thing to happen to you today.

Adam looked at you with a blank look for a split second, before laughing at you. You hid your own face behind your hands, embarrassment cursed through your veins. You’re stupid. Why did you say that?

With the way Adam was laughing at you, you felt his dick jump inside of you, which in turn made you clench around him. Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, yanking them down and he smiled at you like a wolf.

“Well..Who am I to say no to my favourite slut? You want to cum? I’m going to make you cum.”

Why is he so hot!!!! You were going to smash your head again into the car roof.

You already thought his pace before was intense. Now? It was brutal. The scraping of his piercing, his hands on your hips and ass, his dick stretching you apart, his stubble rubbing against your soft skin. His constant fucking talking.

“Ugh, babe, you got such a tight cunt. Squeezing me. And you say you don’t want me to cum inside? Ha. Yeah, right.” Adam started rocking your hips back and forth, your clit was rubbing against his jeans.

“‘M more surprised you haven’t got anyone pregnant with that raging breeding kink of yours.” You whimpered into his ear, then you bit into his ear lobe. That was more to be annoying than sexy, but with the way he groaned and his dick twitched inside of you it seemed like it had the opposite effect.

You really would have missed his words, if you weren’t paying attention enough,

“You the only one I wanna get pregnant. Those other whores don’t deserve to have my cum.”

Why do you feel flattered….Something is really, deeply off about you. You need to up your medication.

It felt like hot flames were pooling in your lower stomach, you felt intense, near painful tingles on your clit and thanks to Adam’s constant rhythm of your clit rubbing against the rough fabric of his jeans it wasn’t a surprise that an orgasm washed over you. Your nails dug into Adam’s biceps while you squeezed around his cock.

“Fucking hell, you wanna milk me dry, huh?” Adam groaned, and with a few hip thrust of his own he came. You kinda missed the feeling of his hot cum shooting into you, but you would take that knowledge to your grave.

You rested your face into the crook of Adam’s neck, trying to regulate your breathing. Your legs felt like jelly. Adam was also breathing heavily, his hands rubbed up and down on your back. He stayed inside of you.

Realistically you knew that he had to pull out, to keep the contraceptive working but on the other hand..You just wanted to stay like that. Having Adam not talk for once was a relaxing change. And having his big warm hands on your back, which was starting to cool down, was just pure bliss.

“..You know, we could always do the pull out method.” He mured into your ear, trying to sound seductive.

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Yeah, sure, look me in the eyes and tell me you could pull out of this.” You lifted up your one knee, your skirt was lifted up by it and it gave Adam a clear view of your filled up pussy.

Adam couldn’t even look you in the eyes too mesmerised apparently by the sight, it was emphasised by Adam’s dick coming back to life again, twiching and growing inside of you.

“..Shit, you’re right.” Adam grasped your waist and lifted you off off him. He removed the condom, tied it up and threw it somewhere carelessly on the backseat floor. Yikes again.

He rubbed at his chin, probably thinking of what to do next with you. With a hot flash across your body you remembered his promise from last time. Thinking of it, you could fit on the floor in between his legs. Maybe. It would be uncomfortable but you also seemingly have no self respect so what does that matter?

“Get in the back seat.” Adam told you, you nodded at his words. Ok. You can crawl over there. Adam gave a light slap to your ass and chuckled at your surprised gasp. Successfully making it back there, you made sure not to step on the discarded condom. Why is he like that?

Adam grabbed another condom, since he was too big for anything really, he couldn’t crawl back there like you. Instead, he used the doors, like a normal person. Couldn’t be you.

Your head was against the window, and when Adam opened the door car door and crawled onto the seat and flashed that smirk of his you knew you were a goner. Out of seemingly instinct your legs slightly opened. Adam closed the door behind him- yay to the illusion of privacy!- and then he grabbed your ankle and tugged your roughly towards him.

A surprised gasp left your lips, you were laid down now, with Adam towering over you. He once again secured the condom, then he bent down to kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping he secured against you. His left arm was supporting his weight against the seat, caging you in, while the other hand was sensually moving from your stomach towards your pussy. He drew patterns into your pubes which made you squirm uncomfortably. Maybe you should start shaving. He then rubbed his thick fingers across your slit, probably checking if you were still wet enough for him. He grazed your clit and it made your whole body jolt.

“Every time a girl shaves her pussy an angel dies. I swear on it.” Adam mumbled out. If those words were meant for only him or if he noticed you being uncomfortable, you didn’t known. But it made you feel somewhat more comfortable.

Adam lined up his super duper magic dick against your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You wrapped your one leg around him, since the other was squished between his body and the seats.

With slow and deep thrusts Adam rocked against you, now you realised how much the car must have moved. The pleasure was building slowly but surely. Adam was quite for once. Pussy so good it shut Adam up?? You’re sure you can put that on your resume.

You wrapped your hand around Adam’s bicep, to steady yourself. You squeezed the soft flesh, looking mesmerised at his big arms. He smiled down at you and flexed his muscles, making them rock hard. You squeezed again and swore under your breath. At this display you remembered actual strong men, and how fat is needed for muscles to be functional and you remembered seeing Adam carrying 2 heavy ass amplifiers on his shoulders as if that was nothing and oh. You need him. Badly. Thankfully you have him.

Using your one hand which was at the back of his neck, you pulled him down to you. Teeth clashing and tongues dancing and spit getting everywhere. It was all consuming and still not enough.

Once the kiss ended, Adam rested his own forehead against yours. You worried for his neck and the constant way he has to twist and bend it to reach you. You gazed into each others eyes, mouths panting into each other and the street light from outside let warm light flow in. It felt like you couldn’t avoid Adam, he was wrapped over you, completely covering you from every angle and he was inside of you, throbbing and twitching. You were breathing in the same air. And you didn’t want him to leave, if you could you would capture this moment and stay here forever.

Why does this feel romantic?

It seemed like you weren’t the only one who thought that, since Adam straighten his back suddenly, as if he forgot what you are to him.

When you looked up into his endless eyes, he was slightly frowning, but that expression changed as soon as it came. Maybe you imagined it.

He grabbed your face roughly and forced your mouth to open wide for him. You let your tongue roll, and rubbed his thumb against it. Hot. He removed his tongue only to spit into your mouth. That’s also hot??

You closed your mouth to swallow his spit.

He seemed rather satisfied with that. He sped up the pace, skin slapping against skin and your moans and gasp and his grunts and string of loosely connected words which you weren’t paying attention to left his mouth. His smug face kind of pissed you off, so you reached out and twisted his pierced nipple.

Adam stifled his own moan by biting down on his lip. But the pleasure he felt from that, he couldn’t hide from you.

And once Adam came, he bit down on your neck. Great! More marks you will have to hide. Ughhh.

The way Adam immediately slowly pulled out of you surprised you. He seemed to enjoy staying in as long as possible. Your brain was a bit to slow to catch up with Adam’s movement. His face disappeared between your thighs, under your skirt and ah-

“Wait. You don’t have to…” Your sentence was interrupted by your own moan.

Adam’s lips latched around your clit and he sucked. Hard.

Overstimulation immediately cursed through your veins, your fingers found themselves at home in Adam’s hair and you tugged. Nails massaging Adam’s scalp, this is probably what heaven felt like.

His tongue traced idle patterns into your clit. Probably spelling his own name again…Asshole. But since you were already close when Adam was fucking into you romantic missionary style, you came with a sob and your body curled into itself. You tugged Adam away from your overstimulated hole. The fact that you were clenching around nothing made you a bit sad.

“If I ever say no to fucking you, honey pot, I need you to take me out the back and shoot me in the head.” Adam told you matter of fact.

You dumbly nodded at his words. Whatever he wants he can get. Genuinely.

“How are you so good at everything?” Your already barley existent filter was gone now in a post orgasmic haze.

Adam laughed at you, “What can I say, I’m a real pussy pleaser.” He sat properly up in the seat, tugging everything away properly. He must have thrown the condom away when your brain was still mush. Reaching over he grasped your arm and dragged you into his lap.

Once you rested your face against your shoulder, bare skin against bare skin and the heat radiating from his body you felt sleep over come you. Adam grasped your shoulders and shook you awake. Literally. You thought you were going to fall on the nasty floor where your guys used condoms laid around. At least the only condoms there were yours?

“You fallin' asleep on me again, baby?”

“Yes. So. Silence, m’tired.” You barley mumbled out. Throwing your head into Adam’s neck again.

“Get back to the passenger seat, slut. I’m driving you home.”

Groaning as if Adam just killed you, you crawled to the front again. There you also put your sweater back on and pocketed your phone. Your keys were also safe with you. That’s good, you love not being locked out. You adjusted your panties while you were at it.

Resting your head against the window, you closed your eyes again while Adam got back into the drivers seat. Turning on the engine, he started driving towards your home.

Since you were half asleep, it felt like it took a second for Adam to arrive in front of your apartment complex. You mumbled out a tired ‘Thanks for the ride.’ and climbed out of the seat.

“You know usu-“

You slammed the door shut before Adam could finish that sentence. The plan was to act like you didn’t hear him. Simply walking towards the entrance, you opened the door and opened it fully by pressing your side against it. You couldn’t care less about the usual. The less you knew of other girls the happier you are.

You looked back at the car, to at least wave Adam bye or something, but when you saw him slam his head against the wheel you stopped in your tracks. You watched the display of his frustration for a few seconds, he then raised his head, probably to check if you got in safely. He froze in horror when he realised you saw that.

Truth be told, you didn’t think Adam was capable of embarrassment. But here he was.

Holding eye contact for a painful second, you simply shook your head and quickly got inside. Walking up the stairs towards your apartment, you unlocked the door, threw off your shoes and collapsed into your bed.

———————————-

Since you usually keep your word, you started texting Adam back whenever you could. At least that seemed to make him happy. You think. It’s hard to tell over text. You also made an appointment with your obgyn, or as Adam called it your ‘Pussy doctor’. You’re close to blocking him.

On Monday, you walked with your friend towards her car in the uni parking lot. You were going to meet up with your other friends for lunch.

Of course Adam was also there, his car parked right across your friend. Gahh. His band members were with him, he just unlocked the car when everyone tumbled in. You could hear your ex call out, “Dude, what the fuck?! Are those used condoms!?”

You were going to kill Adam and then yourself. WAS HE WINKING AT YOU?? He’s dead. Thankfully no one noticed.

Your friend made a face at that info being yelled out across the parking lot, she unlocked her own car and got in. You didn’t hear more from the exchange, but from the way Adam looked happy you knew he was taunting your ex.

Your friend fastened her seatbelt, “I don’t get how anyone can fuck Adam. Like, he’s so disgusting, disrespectful, misogynistic..”

Biting at your lip, you already knew your friends would be mad at you if they found out about you and Adam from someone else besides you. Looking around the car, to make sure the windows were really closed, you took a deep breath.

Adam was in his own car, signalling to her that she has the right of way. She made a quick thank-you-wave and was about to back out of the parking space.

“I did.”

She slammed into the breaks, causing you to be catapulted forwards. The way she starred at you without saying anything, made you uncomfortable. She was speed running all the stages of grief, you could clearly see that. She sighed heavily, like the whole world was resting on her shoulders with your confession.

“……..Is he really that big?”

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Cursed Experiment

Sukuna x F! Reader ... 18+

Summary: A need to do something of use pushed her on the path of research, a path that lead to Ryomen Sukuna, a path that will haunt her forever. Words: 2646 Warnings: This whole thing is a big TW. NSFW, non con, blood, power play (its Sukuna guys cmon), unprotected, creampie, degredation, breeding kink sort of, size kink sort of.

A/N: I shouldn't have to say this but I don't condone actual r*pe or anything of the sort. This is fanfiction. Emphasis on the fiction.

~MDNI~

Being such a low-grade sorcerer was not the best feeling in the world, looked down on by so many, pitied or hated it felt the same. If only you had been born like a regular human, you could hide away from the monsters of the world, you could live guilt free because of you’re complete and utter uselessness. Unfortunately, however you could see curses, which meant you had to try hard, you had help otherwise that guilt would eat you up. Between that looming guilt, you’re barely there technique and desire for you to at least be able to protect yourself is how you came to be a student at jujutsu high. You did come to learn however, your talents lay in academia. Studying and analyzing, putting together reasonable theories to help in combat against the curses and curse users. After the Shibuya incident you were more determined than ever to learn and with that your mind had set itself upon Yuji Itadori and the powerful curse that resided within him, Ryomen Sukuna.

It had been weeks now, following the boy around and studying him, asking him all sorts of questions then disappearing into as much of the literature you could find. To your surprise, Itadori had been rather enthusiastic about your assessment, hoping in your studying of him that you might find a way to rid him of the curse and spare him or at least give him total control so that Sukuna didn’t harm anyone again. The curse in question had no intention of helping you though, chiming in on occasion purely out of his own amusement. You’d even taken to questioning Choso in order to gleam more insight on how cursed objects affect a host’s body. Although he wasn’t entirely helpful either, more so from a lack of understanding his own nature than a desire to help.

It was the topic of the death paintings that you were currently chatting about to Itadori, sat across from one another on his bed, a notebook to your side and laptop resting atop your lap. “So, we know very little as I said, but we can expect that they were created with their mother’s egg of course however when it comes to the paternal parentage it’s more of an, educated guess. See, it could be Noritoshi’s seed and the curse’s blood or cursed energy.” Taking a breath you continue with a slight exaggeration, “Or, it could be the other way around. The curse’s seed and Noritoshi’s blood. I don’t think imbuing his cursed energy would have passed on the Kamo blood technique though but explaining all why seems unnecessary for now. Anyway, what I’m getting at is…” as you continued on Sukuna had formed a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, remarking to the boy “Well, the little mouse is not so dull, imagine that. Prattles too much though.” Your cheeks burned red, eyes snapping up at the same time Itadori’s hand clapped over his cheek, a grimace on his face as he apologised.

You should be used to it by now, Sukuna had, on quite a few occasions, added his own comment to your conversations and it was never kind. Usually something about your weakness, hence he often referred to you as ‘little mouse’. It hurt at first and Sukuna seemed to enjoy that reaction, however now it mostly pissed you off and even though you tried to ignore him, his taunts seemed to burrow under your skin like some evil little parasite, poisoning your mind with hateful thoughts that had once been so foreign to you. “S’okay Yuji” you reassured, shaking your head and flashing a somewhat strained smile. You couldn’t blame him, he was nothing like Sukuna, so you were always quick to remind him of that. As you turned your eyes back to your notebook you hummed, a stray thought finding it’s way past your lips, “If you fathered a child, I wonder if it would possess any of Sukuna’s techniques or biology.” Thinking out loud truly was a bad habit and you felt nerves creep over you the second you said it, apologizing immediately, worried it was an inappropriate topic or just plain insensitive considering his impending execution.

“What an interesting question mouse, perhaps you should experiment, be the next Noritoshi hm?” The snide remark sent chills down your spine and Itadori stood up, waving his hands nervously as he apologised again. “Ah, perhaps that’s enough of my chatter for the night, I’ll leave you be Yuji” your voice had a waver to it, betraying your discomfort as you stood to collect your things. As you turned to leave, a hand clamped over your wrist and the sudden restraint had you jolting, notebook and laptop falling to the floor with a crash. As your eyes met Itadori’s you felt that cold chill wash over you, that feeling when your entire body knows it’s in danger and your stomach seems to collapse into itself and leave a nauseating heaviness in your gut. The hairs on your body stood on end as the sight of Sukuna’s distinct markings made your brain scream in fear and as you began to pull your hand back you knew his comments about your weakness were accurate. He could squeeze his hand and snap your wrist like a twig and the energy that radiated off of him stole your breath away.

He was smirking as he pulled his hand to his chest, forcing you close to him as he spoke in low voice, “You ask a lot of questions, it’s … vexing.” His voice trailed into a something of a growl, his annoyance clear as he continued, “So I’ll provide the experiment to answer one of your many questions, it has been a long time since I’ve indulged after all so I get something out of it too.” He really phrased it like he was about to do you a favor and in hopes of changing his mind, your brain and mouth finally started to work again and you teared up as you stuttered, “No, no Sukuna it, it was a p-passing though, please, d-don’t, I don’t want this!” Your words began to roll together in the panic as you began tugging against his vice like grip. He remained unmoved, staring at you like you were a hissing kitten, amusement barely hiding the cruelty in his eyes.

“You don’t want this? Hm, I thought you were dedicated to your studies, a shame.” Sukuna tilted his head, hand releasing you as he crossed his arms, muscles flexing in a way that only cemented your fear further. “I took control for this little experiment and you don’t want it? Ungrateful. Disrespectful.” With your arm free you stepped back, once, twice, then you turned to sprint and within an instant a hand had splayed out across your stomach, winding you with the force and as a scream tried to claw itself out of your throat another hand had clamped over your mouth. You felt your body being drawn back towards him and while Itadori himself wasn’t an overly large guy, he wasn’t like Aoi Todo in build or even Gojo in height, he still dwarfed you and his hand seemed to cover the entire lower half of your face, a couple fingers stretching down your neck.

The hand Sukuna had pressed to your stomach traced up to your neck, fingers curling over the neckline to form a fist around the fabric before yanking harshly, the buttons and fabric of your uniform giving away easily under the force he used. He pulled your bra down next, exposing your chest to the room as your tears ran freely down your cheeks now, collecting against his hand before spilling over and dripping down. A bored hum resonated from his chest as his free hand groped at your breasts, index and thumb capturing your nipple before pinching it harshly making your writhe against him as you tried to cry out only for the sound to muffle. Your hands tugged at his arm, trying to pull it off your chest as he chuckled. “I’d normally prefer to let you scream your little lungs out but, I’m on limited time so let’s not risk being interrupted.”

Sukuna turned towards the bed as his hand released your nipple only to travel down to lift your skirt instead, snaking under your panties and fingers parting your lips and searching for your core. Your hands followed his arm, nails digging into his skin as you tried to stop, your choked pleas ignored as his middle finger pressed into you with a groan. “Even for such a little thing your tight, I wonder, is it fear or is my little mouse a virgin? Perhaps both” he chuckled as he pressed his palm against your pelvis, forcing your body further against him and the erection that was now clearly rubbing against your lower back. The hand over your mouth loosened, giving you space to breathe and you took the chance to beg the curse for mercy and he rolled his eyes as he scoffed, “You’d be better off screaming, I have no intentions of stopping. I am curious though, is this fragile little body of your really untouched?” Sobbing, you nodded “Please, Sukuna please, don’t, don’t, please don’t.” “How fitting, a virgin sacrifice, that should be an omen of success for this experiment” Sukuna laughed, once again ignoring the pleas as his hand clamped back down on your mouth.

Forcing another finger into your tight heat had you squirming, pressing up on your toes in an attempt to get away but it only served to make the monster behind you groan into your ear. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Sukuna removed his fingers and instead used them to tear off the flimsy fabric that had been your underwear. “I’m gonna need both hands now, so no screaming yeah? Anyone that interrupts me will die and you don’t want people dying on your behalf, do you?” Another sob seems to wrack itself through your body and your hands fell away from his arm, your will to fight fizzling out at the promise of death. “I’m going to need you to answer me mouse, I want to hear you say you won’t scream.” As he dropped his hand from your mouth you barely had the capacity to speak, choking out between sobs, “I won’t scream, I won’t, I promise.” Sukuna chuckled, content with your compliance, “That’s a good little mouse.”

Now he pressed you forward and into the bed, forcing you onto your knees, ass up and face pressed into the mattress. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pulling his cock out and rubbing the fat tip against your pussy. His touch might have been rough but your body had reacted how he wanted and you were slick enough it would be enjoyable for him. You dug your fingers into the duvet, wishing, praying you’d sink into it and disappear before he got any further but your thoughts got crushed as forced the angry red tip into you. Sukuna dug his own nails into your ass as he gripped himself and tried to get in further, “If you don’t relax, I’m only going to be rougher.” He sounded irritated, like the burning stretch that had you crying harder now was simply an inconvenience to him. You tried though, you really did, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax to the intrusion but it had a mind of its own and seemed only to defy you, muscles clenching in an attempt to stop the curse from using you.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, “I warned you” and he pulled your hips back harshly, forcing himself in. You know you promised not to, but you screamed, it was thankfully muffled by the duvet that you had pulled into your face but Sukuna brought a hand down on your hip, snapping at you to be quiet. It felt like you were being split in half, like he tore your tight cunt to fit himself in, a burning, stinging pain that radiated throughout your pelvis and down your thighs making you gasp for air. He moved more freely now, sliding in and out with a deep grunt of pleasure as the coppery smell of blood filled your nostrils making you gag and bury your face deeper into the bed. “Humans, you’re as fragile and weak as bugs” He mused as he slammed your hips back against himself again. Even now he seemed bored, as if using your body like some fuck toy meant nothing to him. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so shattered you’d have picked up on how his pleasure seemed to come from dominating you, tormenting you, ruining you.

He reached a hand forward, yanking your hair to the side, forcing your face into the light and displaying the swollen red mess that was your eyes. Cheeks streaked with tears and the outline of his handprint that had slowly begun to bloom into a bruise in some places. He grinned then, eyes taking in your look of despair as he fucked you into him at a brutal pace, hand returning to your hip and once again he sunk his nails into your flesh pulling a broken cry from your lips. It sounded hoarse, your throat sore from sobbing, from screaming into his hand then the bed. Sukuna knew he was running low on time, he could feel Itadori trying to claw back out and he focused on the blood now instead. Watched as it beaded up then slipped over the swell of your ass, some of the droplets making it as far as your thighs.

Finally Sukuna felt that coil tighten, pulling your body as close as he could, the head of his cock now hitting your cervix with bruising force that had you whimpering in pain despite the odd heat of pleasure that still managed to build in your own stomach. He rutted himself against your ass, blood smearing and staining his pants, the smell of it and sex filling the air and with a low, rumbling groan he spilled himself inside. Your heartbroken sobs only serving to fuel him, encouraging him to press as deep as your body could possibly allow and he stilled, breathing slow and deep, watching your tense body quiver. “Hm, here’s a question for you. If you do get pregnant, will Itadori be there for you and the child? Will he run, convince you to abort it, maybe he’ll suggest you keep it? He’ll definitely blame himself either way. Stupid. Humans are so stupid. I look forward to it though. Breaking him is very enjoyable after all.” Sukuna pulled away, completely releasing you now, watching as the mix of blood and cum slowly dribbled out of your swollen cunt, the occasional drip falling onto the bed below.

Once you realised you were free you collapsed, legs pulling up to your chest as you trembled, waiting for the curse to disappear as bile burnt your throat as the sick reality of the situation settled over you. It felt like forever and yet it somehow it felt like it had all happened in the blink of an eye and you realised you felt dizzy, the room seemed to swim and shift before your eyes. Suddenly Itadori’s voice rang out, a choked gasped followed by a loud thud as he stumbled back only to fall on his ass. Itadori didn’t want to look, he really didn’t want to see but his eyes seemed fixated on the trembling form on his bed and he knew, he knew all the apologies in the world, no matter how sincere, weren’t going to fix this. A silence seemed to swallow the room now, disturbed only by Itadori’s scattered breaths and your own shaky, whimpered ones.

[puhpandas]

GGY week day 6: Everybody lives/nobody dies

so this is a pretty specific au that needs some backstory. basically i have this theory that dr rabbit hasn’t just not shown up yet but is actually dead. since vanny killed glitchtrap at the end of hw2, i have this theory i’ve posted about before that vanny killed dr rabbit pre-sb and that’s how gregory got freed

so in this case that didn’t happen, PLUS rab is a good guy. gregory is a bit on edge about rab being there at first, but eventually after rab doesn’t kill people and is away from vanny and mimic and 3 star fam is actually kinda pleasant (not that he’d say that) he’s like wait a minute.

and instead of being ‘dormant’ and not 3 star fams enemy he kinda just becomes apart of the family. no ulterior motives no nothing he just is on their side for real now and prefers them. along the way he’s able to be a real kid and play gregory’s video games and draw and he likes it a lot. so he just starts to realize hey i don’t like to kill people and want to be normal. gregory can we go to walmart and buy shopkin blind box? i think my favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip.

meanwhile gregory having someone that hijacked his body and ruined his life still in there when he’s supposed to be free is very anxiety inducing. i think he’d hate rab taking over without permission (which he did a lot at first) and it’d scare him and cause him to be on edge a lot. eventually rab starts to actually care and respects gregory’s boundaries and figures out that being nice is pretty cool. it’s also easier for both of them. and eventually after things blow over a bit i think gregory would work on a temporary robot form for rab to roam around on his own (like a cheap animatronic robot. like those little dogs) and he’d get some peace.

but i think rab is always going to share gregory’s head with him since he wouldn’t have his own hands to draw and play video games so. i think that becomes easier for both of them and feels less intrusive.they bond a lot

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drinking and being hungover, a bit of angst

summary: a delayed flight back home leads to an abrupt realization that ultimately feels stupid because everything between you and steve is supposed to be over

CHAPTER FOURTEEN | ❝𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2016

The music was loud and the bar was crowded but you didn’t mind it all that much. 

Robin cupped a hand around her mouth and leaned toward your ear so you could hear her. “Do you think there’s any chance that he’ll make it back here before the show starts, or at all?”

You pushed up on your toes to see if you could spot Eddie anywhere, specifically his mop of curly hair, but you couldn’t. He’d been tasked with grabbing drinks almost thirty minutes ago at this point. You looked back at Robin and leaned in toward her. “I’m starting to doubt it.”

“Well,” She started. “RIP, I guess. He will be missed.” 

“Truly,” You joked back, placing a solemn hand over your heart.

As if on cue, Eddie’s voice broke through the noise. “Finally!”

He was balancing two drinks in one hand and holding the other as he joined you both back at the small table that you were surrounding.

“Just in time, Edward,” Robin said. “I think the band’s about to finally go on.”

“You guys are welcome for the drinks that I almost died trying to get. The bar’s a shit show because some new guy just started.” 

“We’d already mourned you, though, so you being back now is a little awkward,” You told him teasingly and Robin laughed. 

“I guess I’ll just take this back then,” Eddie responded, reaching over to grab your glass. 

You playfully swatted his hand away. “Hey, hey! What I meant to say was you’re the best for getting these for us. You’re so awesome.” 

Robin nodded. “I agree.”

He smiled then. “Thank you. That’s what I like to hear.” 

The three of you waited for the band to come out— this small group that Robin really liked. She had found out about the show at the last second and, of course, asked you and Eddie to come along too. 

She and Eddie had been friends for the past month; they were in the same advanced music theory class, even though she was only a freshman. And you and her had only been friends for a little over a week, but it felt like longer. The long overdue introduction came in the form of Eddie inviting her along to the midnight showing of an Indie movie you and he were seeing. Aside from Eddie, there was no one that you’d been able to hit it off with so easily. 

It was a little after eleven when the show ended, and you all were still somewhat tipsy as you walked back to your dorm— you had done the second drink run in the middle of the show and made it back in record time. Since you lived alone, it was unspokenly decided that they’d stay with you for the night, it always just made the most sense. Robin had a roommate that she didn’t like (it reminded you of your own situation freshman year), and Eddie had two now that were actually present most of the time. 

The twenty-minute walk didn’t feel too long or unbearable. There was a cool breeze that was completely comfortable and made sense for the end of September. You lingered just a few steps behind Robin and Eddie, humming a specific part of a song from the show that had gotten stuck in your head and not at all focusing on the conversation happening between them. But then, a certain part of it stood out to you.

“I still don’t understand how you’re dating someone whose music taste is so different from yours,” Robin said to Eddie. You weren’t sure how the conversation got to that, but you had to admit, you did agree with Robin’s statement because it had never fully made sense to you either. 

Eddie and Chrissy were great together, you could see that clearly, but the how of it all was what confused you at first because they really did seem quite different. You eventually just accepted the fact that not all things were meant to make a whole lot of sense.

“Our love runs deeper than her bad taste in music,” Eddie answered. “Opposites attract and all that cliche shit.”

Maybe it was the slight inebriation, but you weren’t even fazed by how happy and completely content he sounded right then. Your feelings for him were gone— well, maybe not exactly gone, but at least far, far, far away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Delayed flights were already one of the worst things ever. But delayed flights with a hangover felt like an entirely new version of hell.

A version that you were currently living in. 

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been for the best if you stopped at your third glass of champagne last night, but you didn’t, and neither did Steve. Instead, you both had more than you should’ve at the wedding reception, and then when you returned to your shared room, you two raided the minifridge for every tiny bottle of alcohol it had. 

From what you remembered about the majority of the night— the smiles and laughs shared between you and Steve and the drunken storytimes about the most random topics— you honestly didn’t regret most of it; even though you were now sitting in a chair that was too hard to get comfortable in and stuck with a four-hour flight delay. The bright fluorescent lighting in the airport only made your headache worse and you promptly stole Steve’s sunglasses, and he thankfully didn’t protest. 

“Robin thinks that you’re kidnapping me,” You told him as he sat back down next to you and handed over the water he got for you at one of the shops. You two were only one hour into the long delay. 

“I hope you’re endlessly defending me,” He said, giving you a smile. It was almost annoying how fine he seemed, barely any after effects from last night. 

“Of course I am,” You said, eyes back on your phone as you sent her a picture that you’d taken of a lizard from when you and Steve were at the beach on Sunday. The random picture felt like the perfect response to her ridiculous text of “He’s trying to kidnap you!” when you told her about the flight delay. “I feel like I especially have to defend you now because I owe you for last night.”

You didn’t look at him, not even when your phone was pocketed back in the front pocket of the hoodie you were wearing. It had been around one in the morning when the night came to somewhat of an abrupt end, and it was one of the two parts of the night that you did regret. When you and he were on the couch in your room— sharing a plate of room service french fries and watching an old kid’s movie because it was the only channel that had English subtitles— and you suddenly felt sick. Steve saw you puke (luckily you managed to make it to the bathroom) and he’d been way too nice about it, in your opinion; rubbing your back as the fries and everything else from that night came back up and grabbing a water for you— the only drink that was left in the minifridge aside from two bottles of soda. 

“You actually don’t owe me anything because you finally gave me a song last night,” He told you, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

You closed your eyes as you sighed. “I hate that you just brought that up.” 

You had tried your hardest to forget about the moment he was talking about when you woke up. But, you remembered it way too vividly, and it quickly became the other part of the night that you regretted. It felt worse than the puke moment, even though it happened before that, and it was the one thing that you wished you had blacked out on— you drunkenly pulling up the instrumental version of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen, and using your phone as a microphone to sing it for him in your room. The memory of you jumping around on the couch as you did your very lively performance was almost too crystal clear in your head. The only thing that you were glad for when you woke up and sadly remembered that that happened was that there was no video proof of any of it since Steve’s phone had been dead. 

“That moment was supposed to be never spoken about and only taken to our respective graves,” You told him. “I’m gonna tell Robin that you are kidnapping me now. I hope you enjoyed twenty years of living because your days are now numbered, Harrington.” 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” You could still hear the smile in his voice, which only made you roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget that you also sang to me,” You reminded him, your own smile tugging at your lips as you remembered pulling up a song for him on your phone when you were done with yours and forcing him to sing. “And I truly loved the way you sang Since U Been Gone.” 

“I only did the first minute of it because I forgot how high it gets,” He said. “You gave me the entirety of Don’t Stop Me Now.” 

You groaned and pulled the hood of your hoodie over your head. “Don’t remind me.”

You heard his soft laugh in response and ignored it, knowing that things would feel a lot less embarrassing if you let the conversation shift to anything that wasn’t this. The sounds of everything else happening in the airport right then, couples and friends and parents with their kids moving around, filled in the silence as Steve took a sip from his own water bottle. 

“You hungry?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “Just tired.” 

You leaned your head against his shoulder then because all you really wanted to do at that moment was sleep. The way he was sitting made it a little awkward, your head resting more so on the point of his shoulder rather than in the curve of it. It definitely wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it wasn’t the worst. 

As if sensing your slight discomfort, Steve shifted a little, scooting a bit lower in the chair so that your head could rest a lot more comfortably on his shoulder. “That better?”

Your eyes were shut as you spoke. “So much. Thank you.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah, no problem.” 

Somehow even with all of the romantic couple stuff that you two had to do these past few days, it was this moment that actually managed to completely change things for you. This was the moment where your stomach did a weird fluttery thing that made you see things differently. This was the moment that made you want to kiss him for real. This was the moment that made you wish that this relationship wasn’t entirely fake and that there wasn’t an expiration date to this ruse that was quite literally tonight. This was the moment that made you realize that you were in way too deep. 

Although, maybe that feeling had been lingering and begging to be noticed the entire trip— during that moment in the pool, during that kiss at the wedding reception, during that slow dance. 

But still, it was right here in this stupidly bright airport that it all hit you like a freight train. And it only made your headache a thousand times worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You had three more hours of a flight delay and another handful of hours on a plane to reevaluate your feelings; to accept them for what they were or convince yourself otherwise. But, you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you pushed it away entirely. You let yourself fall asleep on Steve’s shoulder for an hour and a half, and then took him up on his offer for food because you figured it would probably help ease away your headache.

You had tried your hardest not to look at him any differently as you two sat across from each other at a restaurant that had really good burgers. You talked about the most unimportant things, spending what was probably too much time ranking TV shows you used to love as a kid and letting Steve go on random tangents about history topics. You’d never been a fan of History, but the way he talked about it actually made it sound interesting for the first time probably ever in your life, and it also helped you not think about anything else. And then you two were finally getting on your flight back home and you slept the entire time of that too. 

Now you sat in his car that was parked outside of your apartment building, and your maybe feelings for him were thankfully still the last thing on your mind. 

Both of you knew what was coming— the inevitable “break up”— but it seemed as if neither of you were ready to pull the trigger. So instead, you both were saying anything to prolong the conversation and keep the night going; you had even brought up the weather of all things just to give yourself another few minutes in his car. And almost an hour later you were still there, sitting in his passenger seat and waiting for the worried text from Robin that felt inevitable given how long it’d been. 

You were in the middle of trying to think of something to say, a question to ask, but Steve was speaking before you could. “Remember when you talked about maybe wanting to teach?”

You kind of forgot that you mentioned that to him before, and you silently wondered what brought up that question, but you nodded anyway. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Sometimes I think about doing that too,” He told you. “Teaching History. But, I know my parents would absolutely hate that.”

The first part of his words made a lot of sense to you because you could actually see that for him, and the rest of his statement made you frown.

“Yeah, but it’s your life at the end of the day, though,” You said. “You’re the one that has to live it, so you should do what you want.” Your mind was then reminding you of who his parents were, and how intense they were, before Steve got the chance to. “And I know that’s definitely easier said than done, and I’m probably making it all sound much simpler than it actually is, but it doesn’t make it any less true, y’know?”

It was quiet for a second and then he was nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You looked away from him then and focused your gaze out the window for a bit. You could’ve kept the conversation going and let a random question fall from your lips, but there was only one thing left to do, and you knew that you had to finally do it. 

“Okay, and on that serious note, I think it’s time for me to make things even more serious,” You said, even though you were actually about to do the opposite. You reached over, looking down to find his hand in the semi-darkness and then meeting his eyes. “Steve, this last month has been amazing and I have truly felt honored to be your girlfriend. But, I think that we need to break up.” You took a brief pause; to make things more dramatic and also to think of what else to say to make this as cheesy as possible. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready for a relationship. We’re getting too serious. I think we both want different things. Our lives are moving in such different directions…” You trailed off, trying to see if there were any cliches you were missing. “Yeah, I think those are all of the reasons that I have. Anyway, I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

He smiled at you, and you could tell that he was trying to hold back his laughter at how sincere your unserious words sounded. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Thank you for understanding,” You said with a nod and a small smile on your face. “That was really hard to do.”

It wasn’t until your joking words came out that you realized that they weren’t that much of a joke at all. You were smiling and holding back your own laugh, but you actually felt sad about this entire moment.

You told yourself that it was the friendship that you were already mourning right then rather than anything else; this friendship that you’d accidentally but so easily developed with him. And you knew that it was over— "separate ways" and all that, just like it was written in the rules.

You didn’t really like Steve in any other way. You couldn’t. You refused to, actually, because you could sense that it would lead you down an all too familiar path of pining and unrequited feelings for obvious reasons— he didn’t want anything real or serious with anyone, and you were the opposite. 

You decided then that it was the act of fake dating that made you think that you liked him. The lines of it all abruptly became a little blurry because, of course, acting like you’re dating someone and pretending to be in love would lead to thinking that you actually had feelings for them. You quickly convinced yourself that there was no way there was anything real between you and him, and the only reason why it had suddenly felt that way was because you two had been acting like it for the past month and these extra two weeks. 

Steve was the one who initiated the hug when you two were standing outside of his car. It was a quick thing, nothing too dramatic or drawn out, which you were glad for because it made things less confusing.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing you want me to do for you about Eddie?” He asked when you both pulled back from the brief embrace and your hand found the handle of your suitcase. 

With everything else running through your mind at that moment— all of the conclusions you were coming to and the things you were convincing yourself of— you’d completely forgotten about the Eddie part of this. The complete truth still felt too hard to tell Steve, so you only gave half of it.

“I’m positive. It’s okay,” You said and gave him a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Me and Eddie are just supposed to be friends. I get that now.”

“Okay,” He responded, and you could tell that he was attempting to read you, see how much you actually meant your words. Inwardly, you knew just how true they were, and saying them right then finally didn’t even make you feel sad anymore. “Then, I guess we’re about to fulfill the final rule of the agreement right now.” 

Hearing him saying that pretty much confirmed everything that you had just been thinking. The timer was up and you two had to go your separate ways; even if the rule was scrapped it would be pretty impossible to be friends now anyway. There was no way you could be friends without telling the whole truth to everyone, so this was just much easier. 

And with what he just said, you knew that he didn’t see you two as actual friends or anything else, anyway. At the end of the day, you two were essentially just business partners. You thought back to that group project analogy that you came up with what felt like forever ago. The “project” was finally completed and now you two could go back to how your lives were before you’d been paired up. 

“Yeah. It was nice doing business with you,” You said and held out your hand for him to shake before realizing how dumb that probably was.

Steve laughed, though. A genuine sound that managed to make you smile and not feel like a complete idiot as his hand took hold of your outstretched one. “You too.” 

You walked away once his hand dropped from yours and when the final goodbyes were said, rolling your suitcase with you toward the entrance of your building and deliberately not looking back as you stepped inside because you didn’t know what you would feel if you turned around. 

Talia was the only one awake and in the living room when you walked into the apartment.

“Hey, glad to see you weren’t kidnapped like Robin thought,” She smiled at you. “How was the trip?” 

“Good,” You said, smiling back. “But, it feels even better to be home right now and not stuck in an airport. I missed my bed.” 

It didn’t feel like the right moment to drop the “break up” news, and plus, you weren’t in the mood to make up answers to the slew of questions that the news would bring about.

“There’s some cookies on the counter if you want them,” She told you and you immediately took a look over at the counter and noticed the clear container. “I tried out this new chocolate chip recipe that turned out really good, and everyone went crazy for them, but I managed to save you three.”

“God, that sounds amazing. I’ll be right back,” You said, heading to your room to drop off your suitcase and then take a quick shower.

You joined her on the couch after grabbing your cookies from the kitchen and didn’t even mind the unsettling true crime documentary she had playing on the TV. It was a moment that was so normal and familiar and just for a second it made you feel entirely at ease. Until you realized that this was how things were going to go now.

Solely back to moments that resembled this one— reality TV nights, game nights, enjoying Talia’s cooking with everyone, moments where none of you could sleep so you stayed up and talked about anything. What your life was before Steve. Back to normal.

That should’ve felt completely okay, but it didn’t, and that really confused you. 

Steve was someone who wasn’t in your life a month and a half ago so what would be the big deal about him not being in it now?

None of what happened this past month was real, you understood that, but for some insane reason, you already missed it. It had been a bad idea, but you missed it. It had been a waste of time for you, but you missed it. You’d felt like an idiot because of it all, but still, you found yourself missing it. 

It was so contradictory but also so true. And right then, it was hard to decide or even figure out what exactly that meant. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

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[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter one: the bolter

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

warnings: language, self deprecation, mentions of school bullying(?)

word count: 1.6k

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I used to write fan fiction a few years back as a weird, lonely teenager, and this is me making a comeback! I have a few original works I like to write, but that's about it. I know a lot of you guys have been waiting for a while, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to comment any plot theories or thoughts! :)

Pathetic fallacy is a fucking bitch. Steve’s been away for a day or two, off to Wakanda, and everyone’s here, faces sour over grey clouds and heavy downpour, busy making preparations for the big day. He says that his best friend is coming home, finally, where he belongs.

Everyone’s heard of this best friend in question — James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends are a bit skeptical, afraid he’ll come with his eyes painted as dark as the night sky and his hair long in some lab rat’s defiance. You can’t help but fear the same.

When you were hired to work as a nurse in the Tower’s infirmary, you’d kept to yourself. It’s a wonder anyone’s wanting to give you a job after the way you were fired from your last one, let alone Tony fucking Stark, taking pity and picking you off the streets of a foreign country. You’re currently perched on a wobbly stepladder, trying your best to not fall headfirst as you stand vulnerable, trying to push the damn pin into the sign that reads Welcome Home, Bucky! In sloppy, maroon handwriting made entirely by you, ever since you heard it was his favourite colour.

You wonder if it could’ve been a poor choice considering the striking resemblance to blood — the same colour as your shirt, white coat long forgotten over the back of the couch in the main communal living area. 

“Here, let me help you with that,” comes a gruff voice from beside you. 

“Oh no, I’m fine, honestly. Can you go check to see if the quinjet’s landed?” You glance down, and directly into deep blue, entranced by the hypnotic hue. No dark paint, hair cropped messy over the crown of his head. Dressed in a sweater the same colour as yours, and you could’ve sworn it’s like fate. 

“Bucky,” you breathed. Bucky? What is he already doing here? He’s not supposed to be for another hour or two? These are just some of your racing thoughts as you examine his face, looking as bright as fucking sunshine. And then you stumble, the ladder giving out from under you and you yelp, expecting to come plummeting to the cold, hard ground. And instead, warm arms envelop you instead, holding you firm to his chest as you struggle to find the words.

“Sorry! Sorry, I don’t usually fall like this I promise.” He looks directly at you, and you register he hasn’t set you down yet, still holding on tightly. He laughs, the vibrations igniting something inside your chest, the flame spreading itself all over your cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your name, beautiful?” He gently helps you place your feet on the floor, and you find yourself desperate to cling to his warmth once again but letting him go, blushing at his compliment. As if it couldn’t get any worse, he’s probably a smooth charmer, fuck. You stumble a little bit over your words as you give him your name and he runs it over his tongue.

Has your name always sounded this pretty? Especially spoken in that gruff, heavenly voice of his?

“I, I thought you weren’t supposed to be here for another hour, we’re still setting—.” You look around, only to find the room completely empty and every decoration in its perfect place, save the ladder now laying on its side in one corner.  When had everyone finished, and why have they all just left?

“They’re all talking to Steve.” He attaches your name at the end of it like a newly discovered drug he’s desperate for another hit of. You tilt your head, a million questions on the tip of your tongue.

“It was really loud in there. Steve takes all the attention anyway, so I used that moment to sneak out.” Your heart breaks for him. This was supposed to be his party, but you offer him some reassurance instead.

“Well, I know we just met but when they all come piling in here to give you a big hug and bring all the noise with them, you can come to me. I know what it’s like, but for now…welcome home!” You awkwardly gesture to the sign behind you, giving him jazz hands. He chuckles and nods his head in thanks, making you smile. 

“Now what’s your favourite baked treat? I heard you like just basic brownies?” His grin only widens. “Yeah, I do love basic brownies.” You gasp in joy, glad to get it right, practically skipping to wrap one and hand it to him. 

He tentatively takes it from your hands, ensuring they brush and one more spark flies into the raw distance between you and him, and you don’t miss the way his beautiful ocean eyes flutter at the contact. You clasp your suddenly sweaty palms around each other, patiently waiting for him to take a bite, and the second his pearly teeth dig into the sweet treat in a way that makes your heart run hot, the noise arrives. 

A cacophony of shouts and cheers make the both of you flinch as Steve walks up to his best friend, attacking him in a hug. “So happy you’re back Bucky!” And takes a bite out of the brownie in his hand as he turns to me, moaning.

“Did you make this? It tastes amazing, dear.” You beam at his praise, nodding along when your eyes fall back on the ladder, long forgotten in the now crowded room. You wouldn’t say you’re lonely, after all, Natasha and Wanda are some of your best friends in your current situation, but they’re almost always off on missions and all the nurses love to talk about is the Star Spangled Man they’d just die to get in their beds. When you first arrived, you were almost always found silently chuckling in the corner, always wanting what you can’t have. Now, your days are always busy, being jetted off on missions once Tony finished the extensive background check on you and letting you figure out who you work the best with. But still, all the days staying silent and to yourself have left you quite…left out. Even as the masses party around you, you feel oddly still. Stagnant, almost.

“Sorry guys, I’ll be right back, I need to go put the ladder away.” You point, and both super soldiers follow your finger, when Bucky interrupts.

“It looks really heavy, let me carry it for you,” he all but begs, a pleading look in his eyes to be taken away from all this din. You glance at Steve who doesn’t argue, letting his gorgeous friend do whatever the fuck he wants. The look on his face is smug and omniscient, as if privy to a secret you’re on the outside of when he glances between you and Bucky. 

You decide to take mercy on his poor soul. “That would be lovely thank you.” You smile politely, moving off in the direction of the bright yellow ladder, trying your best to not stare at Bucky’s bulging muscles rippling beneath his sweater with your mouth so wide open. And to ignore the heat in the pit of your belly at the ease with which he does so, as if the hunk of metal you struggled with for an hour is only a feather to him. 

You lead him to the storage room in silence, thinking it best to not overwhelm him with questions in a saccharine tone. “Thank you, I know it’s really heavy.” You stand in the doorway as he walks up to meet you, and you push yourself as hard as you can against the doorframe so he can pass, but he hovers. Inches away from you. You stare up into his beautiful eyes, taking a quiet moment to admire his pulchritude. Full lips more pink than a spring flower, stubble just enough to catch on your hand if you were to touch him. Cheekbones carved by the careful hands of the Gods themselves, so well-versed in human attraction. How is anyone not to fall in love with him when he can haunt you so stunningly? 

You’re so lost in him you don’t register the lean of his body closer to you, intent on studying your face right back, hellbent on memorising the constellations of your moles and spots. You swallow dryly, unsure of what to do. Is the tension so palpable that he feels it too? Surely not.

Being the way you are, you’re no stranger to rejection. Or to have nobody feel anything for you in the desolate wasteland of your youth, all the nights you’ve screamed at the sky to feel just one genuine connection and all the days you’ve tried to accept it and move on. It’s not the people around you, they are the understanding ones, and apart from one man, someone is yet to treat you like you fear they would.

But someone is yet to truly love you. To truly want you. 

And you highly doubt it’s going to be Bucky Barnes, man whose house can be found in the highest echelons of heaven. Stick to safer things, you try to remind yourself but when your eyes fall back into his, that flies straight out the window. You find yourself not caring, wanting to try anyway. You—

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The words fly past his lips before he can stop them, and your cheeks turn crimson. Maybe he’s the cruel sort — trying to hook you onto him just so he can laugh when you beg for a fix. At your desperation, at the naive hope you’d hold onto with your dear life that he could feel the same high as you on even the tiniest morsel. 

The taunts of children on playgrounds still echo in your ears, all these eons later. 

So you do the only thing that feels familiar and right.

You run away, and in your haste miss the longing, confused stare he gives the path you take.

NEXT PART

[tswwwit]

Cult Part 5! Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.

“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”

His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.

“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”

“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”

Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.

“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”

Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake. 

Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.

Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.

For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.

A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.

Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move. 

So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place. 

The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.

He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.  

Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’. 

Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor. 

But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.

Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.

Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends. 

The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching. 

Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode. 

And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.

He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision. 

He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.

Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.

As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”

All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”

It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.

Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.

“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”

A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious. 

Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.

And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary. 

Stopping him from talking is the hard part.

“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”

“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.

He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.

He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes. 

It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking. 

A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.

“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”

A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”

Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider. Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”

Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.

He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide. 

“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”

“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.

“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.” 

Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”

“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.

Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up.  “This one was…?”

“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”

A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new. 

Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.

Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.

Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?”

“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”

“The market for…?”

“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail. 

“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.

“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”

“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -

Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.

Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.

Special. 

Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.

Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.

“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”

Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how - 

“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide.  “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”

“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.

“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.” 

Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-

“How much of this is true?” He asks. 

If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.

“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”

An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.

“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”

“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”

Dipper glances at the screen. 

The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.

Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.

Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head. 

Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.

Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life. 

And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice. 

One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab. 

It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself… 

Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist. 

Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t. 

It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.

But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper. 

In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time. 

He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap. 

So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like… 

Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.

Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.

The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable. 

There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap. 

Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.

But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person. 

And while the setting’s  fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.

The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now. 

Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped  there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.

He’s even doing it right now. 

The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -  

Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.

Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path. 

He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…

Dipper speaks up.

“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”

“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”

No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track. 

“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”

“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”

“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”

“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”

“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”

Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..

It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to. 

It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.

Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone. 

But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges. 

“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!” 

That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but- 

Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.

“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.” 

A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank. 

Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you." 

He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.

But Bill doesn’t deny it. 

God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…

Holy shit. Dipper’s right. 

His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.  

But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead. 

“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”

“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”

Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride. 

Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.

“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”

Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful. 

There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show. 

He’s only focused on one person.

Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’. 

Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention - 

Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special? 

No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces. 

Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it. 

Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from. 

Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either. 

Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down

“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”

Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”

“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”

Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.

“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”

“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling. 

So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling. 

Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though. 

Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.

“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.

One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-

Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.

“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em  begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”

Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it. 

He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive. 

Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…

Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.

“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”

Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer. 

“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so- 

Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.

“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness. 

Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.

“Nope!” 

“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.

“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”

How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.

Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.

“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”

“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.

Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.

“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”

“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.

“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”

‘Fun stuff’. 

Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’. 

He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming. 

“Is that… so.”

“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”

“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually. 

Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance. 

He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue. 

Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat. 

“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”

“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.” 

Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch. 

Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead. 

What will he do? When he goes back?

He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…

He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was - 

Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid. 

And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.

Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.

“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”

“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”

“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.

For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.

Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise. 

In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there. 

“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing. 

Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment. 

And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.

Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet. 

“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”

Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?

Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning. 

Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.

Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off. 

And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it. 

The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered.  Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn. 

Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.

Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.

Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”

“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.

“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”

The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.

“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.

With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”

The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -

Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.

“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”

Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.

Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch. 

“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”

“Seems ‘uh’, what?” 

“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails. 

“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”

“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself. 

It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-

“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”

“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff. 

It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.

Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face. 

Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies. 

Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.

Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like. 

“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”

The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask. 

“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”

“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.” 

Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light. 

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.

God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -

Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.

“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest. 

The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat. 

“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him. 

“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.” 

Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.

“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”

“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”

“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide. 

“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.

Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted. 

Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off. 

“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.

Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”

Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.

Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura. 

He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm. 

Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that. 

He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.

The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it. 

Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.  

Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while. 

Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote. 

Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals. 

Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again. 

“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.

Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.

Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.  

Maybe he should replay it to check.

The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -

“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor. 

The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.

Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show. 

Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway. 

He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.

Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does. 

And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.

Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.

He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-

The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels. 

That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.

Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.

“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”

“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”

“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully. 

“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”

A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again. 

There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”

With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.

Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today. 

As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused. 

Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.

“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”

Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.

Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”

The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama. 

Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more. 

God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.

Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.

He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch. 

It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric. 

Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.

Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead. 

Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way. 

Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy. 

Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan. 

And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed. 

Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.

Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.

Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize

Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.

Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale.  Dipper can manage.

It’s just…

The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic. 

Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him. 

If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face - 

Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns. 

There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped. 

Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well.  It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.

But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.

The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it. 

Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob. 

The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.

The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away. 

Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’. 

Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.

If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.

Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot. 

This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on. 

Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses - 

Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.

Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger. 

For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.

“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”

Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.

Better get to work. 

Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust. 

There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.

Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not. 

Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse. 

Dipper figures it out in about two minutes. 

The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.

He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off. 

On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster. 

On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection. 

Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important. 

No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest. 

Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit. 

But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock. 

…It’s all about misdirection.

Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead. 

Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.

Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage. 

Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer. 

Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.

This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit. 

Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.

This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice. 

The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and - 

He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.

Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time. 

More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it. 

Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve. 

So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.

He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips. 

Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be. 

Is there… actually nothing here?

Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature. 

So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door. 

And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.

He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks. 

Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.

Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.

As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table. 

Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet. 

Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it. 

The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.

Sadly, there’s not much to look at. 

Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one. 

He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…

Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible. 

With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.

Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.

This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-

Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!

Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later. 

In his hands, there’s a picture frame.

Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.

A picture of Bill. What a surprise.

Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image. 

Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.

“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers. 

Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or - 

Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily. 

And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book. 

Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good. 

A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -

Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here. 

It’s just a picture of… Dipper.

And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down. 

For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable. 

Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Why is this stashed away?  It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.

Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.  

There wasn’t just one picture. 

With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.

“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.

Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself. 

How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…

Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room. 

Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup. 

“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.

So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.

Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-

A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.

Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about - 

No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.

Shit.

Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.

Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch. 

No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.

That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea. 

Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.

And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition. 

Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out. 

All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings. 

It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.

The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.

Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.

After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.

Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen. 

The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall? 

Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him. 

It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.

And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off.. 

Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly. 

He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide. The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder. 

Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -

Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing. 

The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.

Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow. 

At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.

Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.

Well. He’s intact. 

A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.

Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad. 

Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and - 

At Bill. 

A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.

Then he blinks. 

Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor. 

Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face.  It flickered through several before settling on blank.. 

“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”

Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else. 

He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.  

What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does. 

“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”

A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.

At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple. 

“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently. 

Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.

Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened. 

“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”

Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.

Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.

“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”

A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.

Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea. 

That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.

Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.

“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”

Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action. 

Watching Bill about to enact his  vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -

The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.

“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”

On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.

“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.

No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -

“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”

Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.

“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”

Oh. 

There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could. 

Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.

And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched. 

“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”

Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another. 

And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that - 

“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”

“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”

“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”

Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.

That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now. 

“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”

Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him. 

He’s…

All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.

Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay. 

This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine. 

He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks. 

Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension. 

He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.

Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it. 

Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.

Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim - 

But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.

Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.

Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair. 

The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while. 

Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.

The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.

Living here. With Bill. 

Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line. 

All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument. 

His assumptions have never been right. 

Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.  

Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.

DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just. 

Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache. 

Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other. 

If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.

They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’. 

And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid. 

It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.

Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream. 

It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.

How the hell is he getting away with all of this?

It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo. 

Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.

The birthmark. It must be that.

The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.

But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages. 

It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.

Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better. 

Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.

Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special. 

It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…

Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.

Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box. 

Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips. 

Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow. 

There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.

Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-

No, His room. Where he lives.

An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight. 

Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.

The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.

Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -

Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed. 

He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him. 

Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.

He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…

Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought. 

It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily. 

He could use that.

Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second. 

The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.

And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace. 

He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk. 

Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north. 

“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”

“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”

Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.” 

Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.

Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence. 

Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it.  “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?” 

A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”

Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”

Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”

He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.

Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.

And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.

“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong!  Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”

“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way - 

Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.

“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”

Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes. 

Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless. 

He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.

…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great. 

Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses. 

“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”

“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-

“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”

“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”

Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads. 

Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off -  but when doesn’t he?

Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them. 

Wait, what are they doing here? 

The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -

Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.

He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.

Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed. 

Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”

“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room. 

Just as he suspected. It is a great bed. 

As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to. 

It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill.  For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever. 

Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment. 

“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”

Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”

His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry. 

Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back. 

Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline. 

Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like. 

There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth. 

Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face. 

Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude. 

The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound. 

He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.

A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence. 

Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable. 

So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all. 

The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days. 

But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise. 

“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”

Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering. 

There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up. 

It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.

He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and  - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants. 

The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.

And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’. 

Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.

“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that. 

He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to. 

Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight. 

Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.

Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.

God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter. 

The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls. 

After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would. 

Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.

 None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really. 

…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward. 

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient. 

Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective. 

Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 2

a/n: omg thank you all so much for the love on part 1!! i really appreciate it, i didn't think anyone would even see it haha! anyways this chapter is a lil longer but i had a lot of fun writing it, so i hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.5k

part 1, part 3, part 4

warnings: slight angst, language

You and Venetia sit in one of the many living rooms, watching TV as she braids your hair. It’s been a few days since your arrival, and you were enjoying the break from the cruel outside world. 

You planned on getting Felix to drive you down to your parents’ house in London soon, just to visit. You didn’t want to completely leave them in the dust, and you hadn’t seen them since Christmas break. If you were being honest, you missed them, and you have a lot to tell them about your second year at Oxford.

“So, when are you going to visit your parents?” Venetia asks as she continues plaiting your hair.

“I think tomorrow, actually.” You reply, glancing down at your hands as you pick at your nails, a nervous habit.

“Nice. Is Felix going with you?” She questions. “Yeah, I’m going to try to get him to drive me so I don’t have to take a cab.” You respond. “I’m sure he will,” She says. You nod softly.

“You know, I’m really glad Felix found a friend like you. Not some girl just desperate to fuck him.” Venetia says quietly, out of the blue. It seems totally random, but you needed that. A reminder for why you’re even here when you clearly don’t belong.

“You keep him in check, you know? You’re a really good influence,” She ties off your braid with a hairtie and you turn around to face her.

“Really?” You ask, blushing at the compliment. “Yeah. I mean it, love.” She grins and throws her arms around you, embracing you in a hug. You smile into her shoulder as you hug her back.

She pulls away. “But have you, like, ever considered dating him?” 

You’re taken aback by the question. Have you? You try to think back on the past four years of knowing Felix Catton.

Sure, the first time you met him, you thought he was slightly attractive. But thoughts of dating him or even getting close to him romantically never crossed your mind.

“No. Never,” You shake your head. “Okay, what about… Farleigh?” 

Your stomach drops and you shake your head aggressively. “No. No, we like, hate each other.” You chuckle slightly at the absurdity of her question. “Why, though?” She asks. “I see the way he looks at you. I don’t think he hates you,”

She must be insane. She’s imagining things, or romanticizing things like she always does.

“Seriously, Vee?” You shake your head and facepalm. “What?! I don’t know, you’d make a good couple.” She giggles and shoves you playfully. “No, we wouldn’t.” 

“Who?” You flinch at the deep voice coming from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see Farleigh walking in with a cigarette in his hand, as per usual.

He sits down in a chair near the couch and takes a long drag from the cigarette. “No one.” You quickly say, narrowing your eyes at him.

“This guy I was telling her about, I was saying they would look good together,” Venetia explains, and you turn to look at her with wide eyes. Why was she lying? Maybe to test her theory, to see if Farleigh got jealous.

Farleigh scoffs. “What guy?” He asks, and you wonder why he’s intrigued. “Just one of my friends,” She waves her hand like it’s not important. 

“Well, if he’s awkward and inexperienced, they’ll make a great match.” Farleigh says. You turn back to him and you can already feel your anger brewing. “Who said I was awkward and inexperienced?” You ask, confusion written all over your face.

“Like, everyone.” He smiles mockingly. “I’m not.” You cross your arms and look down, your face hot with embarrassment. 

“Hell, even Felix was talking about it a few weeks ago.” Your eyes snap back up to him as he blows some smoke from his mouth. The words hang in the silent air for a moment.

“What?” Your voice comes out weak. “Yeah, he was saying he only hangs out with you because he feels bad. I mean, think about it. You come from a middle class family, you’re a broke scholarship student… Felix only hangs out with people on the same level as him. You’re just an exception, I guess.” He shrugs even though everything he just said has made your stomach begin to churn and your heart begin to race.

“Use that pretty brain of yours,” He points at you with his cigarette, smirking as you stare into space, trying to process what he just told you.

“Farleigh.” Venetia warns, shaking her head. She places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true. Farleigh’s just a little shit stirrer. He gets off on that,” She rolls her eyes at him.

“No, it’s true. He has this savior complex. This happens all the time, you’re just the only one that happened to stick around. Like a little lost puppy, following him around, cause you have nowhere else to go. You just want this life so bad, don’t you?” He continues, his tone seeping with hatred.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you really don’t want to cry in front of Farleigh. Or Venetia, for that matter. You look around, then stand up and walk out of the room and up the spiraling staircase.

You can hear Venetia scolding Farleigh as you run up the stairs. You eventually storm into your room and shut the door, flopping onto your bed as you begin to sob.

Was it really true? Your whole friendship with Felix was out of pity? 

No. 

~~~

4 YEARS EARLIER

You couldn’t sleep. It was certainly past midnight, you figured. You had been trying to sleep for the past two hours.

Something about this mansion made you feel small and inferior, like you were an imposter. You were, in a way. You didn’t belong. It was taking you a while to get used to the exuberant settings and all the formalities.

As you stared up at your ceiling, you figured some fresh air might help. You grabbed a sweatshirt and threw it over yourself, slipping on your sandals and walking downstairs and out one of the back doors to the courtyard.

You could swear there was someone sitting on the steps. You squinted and you could make out a head of curls and a very small light, a flame. No, a cigarette flame. 

You walked closer and grinned as Farleigh turned to you, flinching a bit.

“Why are you out here?” He asked, his face only illuminated by the ghostly moonlight. “I could ask you the same thing,” You replied, standing over him.

“Can I sit?” You asked. He nodded reluctantly. You sat down and hugged your waist in an attempt to stay warm.

You glanced up at him as he sighed, letting some smoke float out into the air. “You have a smoking problem,” You remarked.

“It’s not a problem. Most people smoke, you know.” He rolled his eyes. “At sixteen?” You asked. “Well, I’m almost seventeen. But yeah,” He nodded and took another drag from it.

“Well, I’ll be waiting for the day when your lungs stop working.” You shot back, grinning at your own statement. “Oookay,” He let out another long sigh as he looked out at the courtyard.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of you. You gazed up at the stars in the clear sky above you, like glitter scattered across a page of black ink. It was peaceful and delicate.

Eventually, Farleigh broke the silence. “You know, I like you a lot more when you keep your mouth shut,”

You rolled your eyes and glanced over at him. “I don’t even talk that much.” You observed the smile he was trying to hide and you nudged him playfully.

“I see you trying not to smile,” You giggled and the smile tugging at his lips broke out into a grin. You poked him in the arm. “You act all tough. Why?” 

His smile faded and he looked back out at the long stretch of grass. “Not sure.” His voice was distant and uncertain. This was the one time he was ever going to let his guard down, you thought to yourself. Maybe it was because he thought you were just a one time guest that he would never see again. 

You two ended up talking for about a half hour, discussing the most random things. But for some reason, it was one of the best conversations you had in a while. You had a lot more in common than you thought. 

You think you ended up dozing off on the steps with him, but you woke up the next morning in your bed. You’re not exactly sure how that happened.

Of course, the next morning at breakfast he acted like he was offput by your presence alone, but you knew what happened the night before wasn’t a dream. It was real, and you knew that when you looked deep into his warm brown eyes.

~~~

The next day, you wake up early to make yourself look somewhat presentable, despite your puffy eyelids from all the crying you did the night before. You put on some light makeup and a white sundress.

Although you didn’t want to face Felix, you needed a ride to your parents’. You head to Felix’s room after putting some shoes on, knocking on his door. 

“Felix,” You call out, knowing he’s probably still sleeping. With no response, you knock harder. “Felix!” You call, slightly louder than the first time.

You hear a loud groan and his bed shifting. “What, mate? Who is it?” He asks. “It’s me,” You reply, staring at the door expectantly.

You hear him shuffling around before his footsteps get louder and the door swings open. His brown hair is messier than usual and his eyes seem to be half open as he studies your appearance.

“What’s the special occasion?” He asks, leaning up against the doorframe as he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Well, I actually have a favor to ask,” You respond, trying to ignore all the thoughts about what Farleigh said last night creeping back into your mind.

“What’s that?” Felix tilts his head curiously. “I was wondering if you could drive me to my parents’ house today. I wanted to visit. Just for the day, you know.” You smile up at him.

He seems caught off guard, and then his expression looks pained. “Oh, you know what? I totally would, but there’s this thing happening in London today. A lot of our friends from Oxford are going to be there, why don’t we just go to your parents’ another day?” He suggests.

You feel disappointment hit you like a tidal wave. Is this what Farleigh was talking about? 

“Our friends? You mean your friends.” You correct him, suddenly feeling the emotions from last night spilling over. “Well, they’d be happy to see you, I’m sure-” “You can’t just do this one thing for me?” You interrupt him.

He looks at you, dumbfounded. “It’s not a big deal, why can’t you just get a cab?” His words cut through you. Not a big deal. 

“You know what, nevermind.” You shake your head and hold up your hands. You turn and begin walking down the hall. 

“I do a lot of things for you, you know!” Felix shouts after you, and you’ve never heard that tone of anger in his voice. He’s always been so kind, so considerate. He used to jump at the chance to help you with something. Now maybe you knew why.

On your way downstairs, you run into the last person you needed to see in this moment. 

Farleigh stops in his tracks when he sees you. He looks up at you from the lower steps, probably noticing your distressed state.

“What’s your problem?” He asks, smirking lightheartedly like it’s another one of his jokes. “Farleigh, I don’t need your little comments right now,” You sigh in exasperation and continue down the stairs, pushing him out of your way.

“Woah, did something happen with you and Felix?” He turns around and follows you out of curiosity. “No. I just-” You realize a possible solution to your problem, but you would rather throw yourself out of a window than spend  nearly two hours in a car with Farleigh.

“You can drive, right?” You turn around to face him once you reach the bottom of the stairs. “Yes… Why?” He narrows his eyes and peers down at you. “Okay, I was trying to ask Felix if he could drive me to my parents’ house today. He obviously said he was too busy for that, so… Can you just drive me?” You look up at him, crossing your fingers behind your back.

The corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. “Sorry, you’re asking me for a favor?” He chuckles under his breath and raises his eyebrows. “Fuck. Yes, okay?!” You facepalm and wish you had never said something. Now he’s going to tease you over it for the next week or so.

He steps closer and leans down slightly, although you still have to look up at him. “Say please,” He says tauntingly.

You roll your eyes while heat creeps up onto your face. “Please,” You say quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t really hear it,” He leans even closer and you look away. This is why you can’t ask Farleigh for help. Ever.

“Please.” You hate how pitiful and desperate you sound. He seems satisified, so he steps back and stands up straight again. “Alright. Let’s go then, shall we?” You want to strangle him as you follow him out the door.

It’s sweltering outside. You groan. “Oh my God, so hot…” You shake your head and look up at the sun almost already in the middle of the sky.

“What do you say, should we steal his truck?” Farleigh eyes Felix’s truck and nods his head towards it. You know it’s wrong, and he probably will need it later tonight to get to London, but his truck doesn’t have a roof and it would be nice to feel a breeze…

Fuck it. “Do you even have the keys?” You ask, walking over to the truck. Farleigh holds up Felix’s keys to the truck. You cover your mouth and giggle, feeling like you’re back in fifth grade, playing a stupid prank on someone.

You open the door to the passenger’s side and hop in while Farleigh does the same, turning one of the keys and starting the engine. 

“So, what was his excuse?” He questions as he puts the truck in reverse and pulls out of the gravel driveway. He stretches an arm over to place his hand on the back of your headrest, shifting to see over his shoulder. You watch him closely as he does all this.

“Uhm.. This thing in London today. Apparently a bunch of Oxford students are going. Were you planning on going?” You reply, biting your lip as he moved the truck into drive.

Recognition flashes across his face. “Oh. I told him I would go with him, but.. I didn’t really want to anyway,” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Farleigh Start, passing up the opportunity to go to a social gathering?” You gasp sarcastically.

“We spent a whole year with those people. I’d rather not go all the way to London just to see them after what, like, a few weeks?” You squint to look over at him in the sun.

“But you’re driving almost the same distance to my parents,” You raise an eyebrow. He takes a moment to respond, almost like he’s trying to come up with an excuse.

“This is different. You asked me for a favor and I didn’t have anything else to do. It’s not personal.” He glances over at you. His lighter curls that are usually hidden are now illuminated in the golden sunlight.

“I mean, you did have plans with Felix.” You look back out to the road stretched ahead of you and the trees with vibrant green leaves blowing gently in the breeze.

“Okay, do you want me to keep driving?” He glares at you and your remarks. You bite back the smile threatening to form on your face. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” You look down and adjust the skirt of your dress.

After about two hours, you see the sign that tells you you are about to enter the small town where you formed many fond memories.

“This isn’t bad,” Farleigh admits as he slows down to round the upcoming bend. “What, did you think I lived in the slums or something?” You laugh a bit at his remark before staring out the window and admiring the familiar surroundings.

“Maybe.” You can hear the smile in his voice. This is nice, you think to yourself. Maybe you two can actually get along.

“Okay, it’s gonna be the third house to your right.” You tell him. It’s a townhouse, not very big, but quaint and cozy. The walls are old brick and the windows are thin with white frames, and some shrubs grow on either side of the staircase leading up to the front door.

He pulls over next to the sidewalk and puts the truck in park. You undo your seatbelt and open the door, pausing to look over at Farleigh.

You notice he is still just sitting there and staring straight ahead, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wheel.

“Hey, you can come along, you know,” You say softly. He looks over at you, his expression seeming a bit shocked. He raises his eyebrows.

“Really? You want me to meet your parents?” He smirks and you register his joke. “Oh, shut up.” 

“C’mon, I don’t want you to have to just sit out here. This might take a while,” You explain, gesturing for him to come with you.

“Alright, I guess.” He shrugs and you both get out of the truck. You lead, walking up the stairs and breathing in the scent of the plants and the summer air.

You knock on the door and wait patiently. The door opens and you are greeted by your mother. She exclaims your name joyfully and embraces you in a hug.

“Honey, I didn’t know you were coming!” She pulls away to get a good look at you. You observe her. She looks tired. “I thought I would stop by,” You grin brightly.

“You just get prettier every day,” She hugs you again. “Who’s this?” She asks, noticing Farleigh, who is waiting below on the steps.

“This is Farleigh. I needed a ride, and Felix wasn’t available. This is his cousin,” You step to the side, allowing Farleigh to walk up and shake your mom’s hand.

“Oh, nice to meet you!” She shakes his hand, looking up at him. “You’re tall,” She laughs a bit, taken aback by his height.

Farleigh chuckles a bit. “Nice to meet you, Miss.” He dips his head politely. He’s so fake to adults, you think to yourself. “Ah, a fellow American,” She glances at you with a smile. “Yes ma’am,” Farleigh nods.

“Please, come inside,” She opens the door wider and steps back to let you both in. Farleigh has to duck to fit through the door.

You walk into the small living room and sit on your favorite couch. You see Farleigh observing all the pictures framed on the wall of when you were little. You hear him snicker slightly.

“Where’s Dad?” You ask. Your mom has already entered the kitchen and is pouring some hot tea into some cups.

“He’s at work,” She replies. “On a Saturday?” You ask. Usually your dad got work off on Saturdays. 

“Yep. He’s been working hard lately, trying to make some extra money.” Your mom explains as Farleigh walks over to sit with you on the couch.

She walks over and sets the tea cups down on the coffee table. “Thank you,” Farleigh smiles at her and takes one of them. You follow suit.

It feels intimate, in a way. Farleigh meeting your mother and being inside the home you spent many years in. You aren’t sure if you could consider it a childhood home, since you only spent your teenage years here.

Your mom sits down across from you two in her usual chair. “So, tell me all about school. How were exams?” She asks,

You spend the next few hours just talking. Farleigh is surprisingly very conversational, and he seems to be enjoying himself. All three of you are laughing and sharing stories. Your mom even prepares a nice lunch for you two.

After today, you feel like you’ve learned more about Farleigh than you ever knew before. He’s almost bearable when he’s nice like this, and maybe it really is genuine.

“Well, we should probably start heading back,” You say, standing up from the couch. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll tell Dad you stopped by.” She smiles softly.

And then before you know it, you’re back in the truck with Farleigh, beginning your journey back.

[gi4hao]

a story of garden parties

neighbor!seungcheol x gn!reader

warnings: a vaguely implied mention of alcohol, lots of mentions of food, cheol taking his shirt off *bites lip*

your neighbor’s friends warned you: they’re often around. but that only means seungcheol always has room for one more person, especially if that person happens to be you.

march 24th, 11:41am

it’s the very last thing on your to-do list. something you only allowed yourself to do after cleaning your entire house and unpacking exactly thirteen full cardboard boxes: changing the nameplate on your mailbox. proudly admiring the way your family name states that this is, indeed, a house that now belongs to you, you feel a great sense of accomplishment rushing through your veins. of course you’re far from being done with moving in, but you have a feeling everything will go easy now that the hardships of paperwork are behind you.

on your right, the sound of footsteps and friendly chatters make you look away from your brand new mailbox. you count not one, not two, not even three people walking towards you, but seven. for a moment you wonder whether your neighborhood is something worthy of touristic visits… but watching these guys closely, you realize they’re all carrying food and drinks of various kinds, therefore eliminating the tourist theory.

you greet the group with a polite smile, and the seven of them utter scattered heys and hellos. only one of them actually speaks up:

“hi! are you the new tenant?”

“i am, yeah! i just moved in today. are you guys… neighbors of mine?”

they’re quick to inform you that none of them is actually living in this neighborhood, but that they’re all headed to your actual neighbor’s house, making the most of the sun to have a little get-together. a barbecue, specifically.

you’ve met your neighbor already, although only through hurried exchanges during your two visits of the place. he seemed like a nice guy, although you couldn’t quite remember right now.

“well, don’t hesitate to come and say hi! my name’s seungkwan, you might see us a lot around here if i’m being honest��, the same guy tells you, and you think they all must be pretty close to invite other people to each other’s houses.

may 20th, 1:30pm

“thanks!” you tell seungcheol as he hands you the drink you’ve been advised to try for months now, a creation straight out of joshua’s mind.

and indeed, you understand what the hype is about from the very first sip. you face translates your satisfaction, and causes seungcheol to crack you a smile.

“i needed that”, you admit, putting the glass down on the kitchen table. through the patio door, you get a perfect view of jeonghan trying his hardest to push mingyu in the pool. “thank you for inviting me by the way, it’s always nice to hang out with you guys.”

this is probably a more acceptable thing to say than the actual truth: that the main reason why you accepted the invitation was seungcheol himself.

“no worries, we like having you around”, he replies, getting started on his own drink. “is everything okay though? you seem a bit tensed.”

well, so much for trying your best not to look like you haven’t spent your entire morning having a breakdown over a multitude of sudden bad news.

you’ve gotten closer to seungcheol lately. the sunny weather brought many occasions for spontaneous conversations in your driveway, a few drinks at each other’s houses when the timing seemed right, and even a couple of parties. in other terms, you’re close enough to tell him when you’re feeling down, but maybe not close enough to always tell him why.

still, he’s always listened to you with a patient and reliable ear, making sure your interactions always felt comfortable for the both of you. but this sense of comfort is precisely the reason why neither of you seem willing to make a move.

you take another sip of your drink before answering: “i’m okay, nothing my beautiful new kitchen lights can’t fix.”

he chuckles, knowing you’re referring to the latest thing he’s done for you around your house. and his cheeks feel unusually hot. “well, feel free to ask if you ever need anything else. i don’t mind at all”, he smiles before walking around the kitchen table, motioning you to follow him outside.

your drink in hand as you step onto his wooden patio, you have to make a conscious effort to look away when he lifts his t-shirt over his head. lying on their deckchairs, minghao and jihoon are sharing knowing looks behind your back.

august 6th, 11:56pm

“am i even doing this right?” you ask, not really knowing whether you’re talking to yourself or not.

two hands come to rest on your shoulders, and you feel cheol leaving a kiss on the back of your head, making you instantly melt. “looks perfect to me”, he answers, looking at the chicken and vegetables sizzling on the grill.

you would take that as a compliment if it had come from anyone else, but since cheol has a tendency to believe that everything you do is perfection, you’re not really sure how much truth is behind those words.

so you pick up a slice of bell pepper with your fork, blow on it and turn around to feed it to him.

“perfect”, he confirms with a content smile, before leaning in to leave a kiss on your cheek.

behind him, you catch sight of seungkwan frowning in disgust: “don’t spread your cheesiness all over our food please. what if it’s contagious?”

reacting much quicker than you, cheol throws a towel that hits him right in the chest, all while simultaneously telling him to start handing around the plates.

“wow, someone doesn’t like to be called cheesy…”, you remark in an amused tone as you bring the first batch of food on the table.

“is it cheesy to say you’re the only one who’s allowed to say it?” he questions and pulls you closer for a kiss, fully knowing the answer to his own question.

sure, you guys might be a bit cheesy, but if you were to come up with an explanation, you’d say it’s just the natural release of months of pent-up affection. but everything feels so right now, and you can’t even remember the last time you felt alone, cheol’s presence and sturdiness being your safety net at every inconvenience in your life.

and as much as seungkwan and the others love to tease you for it, they’ll always cherish your fondness for each other, as long as it keeps on making their best friend the happiest man ever.

[skz317cb97]

The Club

Bang Chan x Thick female reader

Word count: 6.3K

Synopsis: Friends to lovers such a cute trope... in theory. You go to the club with your two best friends and the clueless man you love, your roommate Chan. Will you be able to stand watching him hook up with yet another flawless girl that you could never compare to or are you finally at the end of your rope.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! I don't know where this came from I just knew I wanted to do another thick reader fic. I honestly pulled it from my ass which I guess is what all writing is really. ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy and if you do please reblog, comment, like, send an ask whatever I love to hear from you guys. As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: Body image issues, cussing/strong language, unprotected piv intercourse (please use protection), cream pie, crying after sex. I think that's all, this one is fairly tame. If I missed something please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings asap!

Your best friend and roommate Chan knocked on your bedroom door and then walked into your room a second after, a typical move on his part.  

“Come right in why don’t ya.” You scoffed. Chan flashed his megawatt smile that you failed to see since you were laying on your bed face down after having the worst week of your life. He picked up one of your throw pillows and flung it at your head. 

“Hey wake up! Minho and Jisung called, we’re going to the club tonight so get ready!” You rolled over looking at the ceiling and pushed the pillow Chan threw on the floor instead of flinging it back towards him, he frowned a little. 

“Pass. You guys go without me.” The last thing you wanted to do was go and watch your three pretty best friends get hit on while you sat at a booth drowning your loneliness in whatever you felt like shooting back. It always happened and of course it did. They were three attractive men that could dance, they were articulate and kind as well. So they had their pick of the women whenever you all went out to the clubs. The club experience was not the same for you.  

You were bigger than most if not all the other girls at the club and your dancing was mediocre at best. Most of the time you would dance for a bit with the guys and eventually, one by one, they would break off with whatever girl rubbed against them. Then you would make your way to a booth and be there for the remainder of the night. No one ever approached you except your friends who would regularly check up on you, sit for a bit, maybe order a drink, then back out on the dance floor. You were sure it was a great time for them and usually it didn’t bother you that much but after your day, your week, you didn’t have the energy. Chan was persistent and wasn’t having it though. 

“What?! No no way we’re not going without you, we all always go together.” He grabbed you by your hands and you wished it didn’t make your heart race. Chan pulled you until you were sitting up. 

“So get. Dressed.” You rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away. 

“I said no Chan.” He rolled his eyes right back. 

“Give me one good reason why?” He crossed his arms in front of him and you let out a huff of frustrated air. A good reason why? Because you’d had a horrible week and you didn’t want to watch Chan rubbing against and kissing another perfect girl that he would bring home and you would ultimately have to listen to the soft moans and panting of a stunning girl you could only ever wish to be. You couldn’t say that to him though, so you sat there quietly. 

“See you don’t have one. Minho and Jisung will be here in forty-five. Get. Ready!” He spun around and left your room before you could argue more. So this would be your night, again. You just hoped your stupid heart could take it. Sure, being in love with your best friend and roommate is such a cute cliché trope until you’re living it, then its agony. You got up and started getting ready and by ready, you changed out of your work clothes into street clothes. You didn’t try, you just didn’t feel like faking it. So a basic pair of jeans, a tshirt, some converse, and your hair up in a ponytail was your attire for the evening. 

Chan thought he was going to have to drag you from your room by force but when Minho and Jisung showed up you walked out dressed and ready. Naturally since Minho and Jisung were your two only other friends they knew you had feelings for Chan. Not because you ever told them, nor would you admit it when Minho would allude to it. Minho just wasn’t an idiot and had eyes and Jisung... well Minho told him everything. Jisung was skeptical still. As soon as you walked out Minho knew something was off. You weren’t your normal glow-y self. He made fun of you constantly calling you concentrated sunshine because you just had this glow about you that made others around you smile and even though he teased you for it he found it endearing and a wonderful quality to have in a friend but that night he didn’t see it. He walked up to you. 

“You feeling okay?” You nodded. 

“Yea sure like a million dollars.” You deadpanned and went to walk past him to follow Jisung and Chan out the door but he stopped you. 

“Hey...” You looked at him and your eyes just looked empty. 

“You sure you should be going out?” You took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. 

“I’m okay Min really, let's just go please?” He was concerned but he wasn’t going to push you, not tonight at least. He grabbed your hand and you both headed out the door with your friends. 

Once you all arrived at the club the guys migrated towards the dance floor like you all always did, dance, then drink. You broke off and made your way over to the bar quietly. When Minho turned to make sure you were still right behind him, he didn’t see you anywhere. Chan already had a gorgeous girl in a silver sling of a club dress shaking her ass and backing it up on him and Jisung was just dancing with the mass of people. Minho couldn’t just dance and have carefree fun knowing you weren’t, he walked over to Chan and his ‘dance partner’. 

“Hey, did you see where y/n went off to? She was right behind me then gone.” Minho yelled over the music. 

“Probably getting a drink she’s been in a mood today I don’t know why.” Minho watched the girl grind her ass against Chan’s crotch and Chan’s hand slid across her backside as he moved his hips with her. Minho rolled his eyes, of course he didn’t know why. 

“You're my best friend but you’re an idiot sometimes...” Minho mumbled. 

“Huh?” Chan couldn’t hear him over the music, Minho raised his voice over it again. 

“I said I’m gonna check by the bar.” Chan nodded and waved at Minho as he made his way towards the bar rail. You had initially been at the bar but as soon as you had a drink you made your way over to one of the tables you would sit at usually. When Minho didn’t find you at the bar he knew he’d find you there. He slid in next to you at the booth you’d chosen for the night. You downed the rest of your glass and he looked at you. 

“How many is that?” You looked at him blankly. 

“Does it matter?” He arched one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows at you and narrowed his eyes. You sighed. 

“It’s only my first calm down officer.” Minho nodded. 

“Come, dance with me.” 

“Pass.” Minho grabbed you by the hand and pulled you. 

“I don’t think that was a request. Dancing, now.” You got up because at least you could get another drink in the process. Minho guided you towards the dance floor and started moving his body to the beat, you bobbed back and forth half-heartedly. By the second song Minho had gotten you to lighten up a bit, it helped that Jisung had joined you both and you had your friends near you. Well not all of them. You had been watching your feet or looking at Minho so you could read his lips when he spoke to you. Then you scanned the mass of people dancing and your eyes landed right on Chan and the silver dress girl making out and dancing, Chan’s hand gripping her ass as she giggled and he kissed her neck, their sweaty body’s moving in tandem with each other. Your face fell as your heart shattered into a million pieces. Minho could see it happening in your eyes. He scanned your line of sight and saw Chan and the girl. Before Minho could say anything, you excused yourself. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You pried your way through the people on the dance floor trying to get out of there and into the fresh air, you needed air. Jisung was confused when you dashed off and Minho just raised his hand as he followed you. 

“Just... stay here I’ve got her.” Minho cut through the crowd right behind you. You burst out the club door and into the cool night, taking gasps of air trying to will any and everything in your stomach to stay put. Minho popped out a second later and almost bumped right into you. 

“Hey, look... you know... about Ch-” You cut Minho off. 

“It was just hot I needed some air.” Minho rolled his eyes at you. 

“y/n I know-” You cut him off more forcefully, tears slightly collecting in the corners of your eyes. 

“I was hot Minho!” He stopped, pushing you would do no good and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. You sniffled a bit and pushed the tears back down. 

“I’ll be back inside in a minute.” He looked at you unable to hide the concern on his face. 

“Promise.” You said. He accepted that and headed back inside. You got yourself together outside and made your way back into the club a few minutes after Minho. You walked up to the bar, you promised Minho you’d come back inside, you didn’t say you wouldn’t drink. You were done dancing for the night you were ready to drink and forget. Forget the image of Chan and some gorgeous girl dry humping on the dance floor that was burned into your mind. You got your drink, several in fact, and made your way to your table again. Your drink of choice? Instant amnesia, tequila shots. Shortly after shot number six? Seven? Who cared. Shortly after you knocked back yet another shot Minho, Jisung, and Chan all crowded the table, the beautiful girl in the silver dress glued to Chan’s side. Minho snatched the empty shot glass out of your hand frustrated. 

“Did you drink all these?” He motioned at the slew of empty shot glasses in front of you. You just nodded and Minho sighed and looked over at Jisung who looked concerned but unsure how to help. The girl whispered something in Chan’s ear and he nodded laughing making Minho look over at him. Chan raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” Minho shook his head and motioned towards you. 

“Do you maybe wanna try and help me here?” Chan held up one finger to the girl. He slid into the booth seat next to you and she sat on the edge right by him. 

“What’s up?” He nudged you and you shook your head. 

“Why is everyone acting like this isn’t what we do every time we’re at the club? I drink and you guys...” You lifted your head enough to look over at the girl next to Chan. 

“do you. Just leave me alone.” Chan didn’t get why you were acting like this. So you had a bad week at work, you didn’t usually take that out on them and you definitely were never so short with them. 

“What’s your problem tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then dropped your head back down. 

“Just leave me alone, I’m always alone anyway just...” Chan got a look on his face like the lightbulb just went off. So that was it you were upset no guys were approaching you. When Minho saw that look on Chan’s face he was almost certain it was the wrong lightbulb going off and braced for grade A Chan foot in mouth material.  

“Well of course, you’re dressed as frumpy as your attitude.” You looked at him with your jaw dropped as tears instantly pricked your eyes. Minho literally face palmed and even Jisung thought that was way harsh to say. Chan realized it was too far the moment it left his mouth. 

“Move and let me out.” You said quietly but sternly. The girl stood while Chan put his hands up and didn’t budge. 

“Wait...” You looked him right in the endless pools of brown you usually adored as your tears threatened to fall. It wasn’t even just that he’d said it but to say it in front of that beautiful girl, it tore your guts out. 

“Bang Christopher Chan move, or I will scream.” You took a deep breath preparing to scream as loud as you could, a tear slipping down your cheek and he quickly got up. You pulled yourself out of the booth and walked away without a word as they all watched. 

“Wow Chan of all the bone head things to say... I didn’t think you could say something so heartless, especially to y/n.” Before Chan could say anything Minho took off after you. You were drunk and crying against a brick wall when he found you. He promised not to ask or say anything, he just wanted to make sure you got home safe. He put his arm around you and walked you back to your apartment. Back in the club Jisung and Chan stood there in shock for a second. Neither of them had ever seen you like that before, then Jisung turned to Chan and gave him an angry look. 

“I know I know I feel like shit I’ll go apologize to her.” Chan turned to the girl that had been his dance partner and then some for the night. 

“Uhh sorry I’ve... I’ve gotta fix this, she’s my best friend.” She looked irritated but nodded and left for the dance floor again. Jisung suggested taking the long way back to your place to give you a little time to cool down and Chan decided that was probably a good idea. By the time you and Minho got to your place you had stopped crying. He led you to your room where he helped you take off your shoes and get into bed, you threw the cover back and peeled off your jeans leaving you in your panties before laying back. Minho’s face turned a little red and he looked away until you were covered again. He grabbed you a bottle of water and dragged your trash can by your bed in case you had to vomit. He went to leave your room and let you get some sleep but your voice came out tiny and shaky and it stopped him. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Minho turned. 

“Who?” He asked although he knew. 

“Chan.” It was the first time you’d ever admitted out loud to him that you were in love with Chan. Minho knew Chan was oblivious to it and he knew Chan loved you; they all did, but he really didn’t know if Chan was in love with you. 

“I don’t know, try not to think about it right now, okay? Get some rest.” You curled up and turned towards Minho. 

“Min?” He hummed smiling softly at you, he hated seeing that spark in your eye smothered by your tears. 

“Nothing.” He nodded. 

“Good night y/n. Sleep well.” He pulled your bedroom door closed and locked up on his way out. On Minho’s way home he ran into Jisung and Chan who had taken the long way so were walking from the opposite direction. Chan jogged up to him quickly. 

“Did you find her? Is she okay?” Minho nodded. 

“Yea I found her. She’s home, she’s in bed now.” Chan sighed in relief.  

“Thanks Min. I’ll make it right.” Minho nodded 

“I sure hope so.” Then Minho and Jisung headed towards their own apartment. When Chan got home he made sure to quietly unlock the front door. When he turned to go down the hall towards your rooms there you were in your tshirt and panties braced against the wall trying to get to the bathroom to brush the taste of tequila out of your mouth. If you weren’t still drunk you would have been mortified to be standing in front of Chan in your panties. 

“Oh hey, Minho said you were asleep already.” You shrugged. 

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’ll be sure to put earbuds in so you and your slumber party pal can be as loud as you want.” Chan’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Slumber party pal?” You pushed your fingers into your eyes and fought the migraine that was starting to form. You tried to walk into the bathroom and he stopped you. 

“Wait. What are you talking about? Do you mean the girl from the club?” What did that have to do with it. Chan was confused. 

“Yes the girl who’s attitude and certainly her dress were far from frumpy.” You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes again. You’d hoped you’d cried all you had in you. Chan felt the slap to the face your words were meant to carry. 

“y/n I shouldn’t have...” You cut him off angry. 

“You think I don’t know what you mean when you say that?!” Chan shook his head he didn’t understand, what he meant? 

“That I’m fat! I’m fat and not pretty! I’m fat and why would anyone approach someone like me! That I wasn’t her! You don’t think I know it already?! I see the way you look at her and I see the way you look at me and I know!” You looked down crying and realized you were standing there like a fool with no pants on. You ran to your room and slammed the door grabbing sweats and pulling them on before crawling into your bed hopeful that it would swallow you and take you away. Your head was pounding and you felt like you wanted to throw up, you just wanted to disappear.  

Chan stood there absolutely stunned. Why did you feel like you needed to compare yourself to that other girl? The alcohol was skewing your perspective, it had to be. You didn’t really think he meant that did you? You didn’t really think that about yourself, right? Sure the girl he was dancing with was beautiful but he thought you were beautiful too, you knew that, you knew he thought you were pretty. He thought it all the time when he watched you cooking dinner in the kitchen or when you both were curled up watching a documentary on sea cucumbers, he thought you were the prettiest when you laughed, which you did often... usually, not so much lately. You had to know because he thought it all the time... he thought.  

Thinking and saying are two totally different things. He tried to remember a time he’d told you that you looked pretty or that he thought you were beautiful and he couldn’t think of one, he couldn’t think of not one time he’d actually said out loud that he thought you were pretty. Underneath he knew a lot of other feelings came up with that statement, feelings he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with, feelings that may scare you, feelings that might make you uncomfortable. You lived together, things could get messy saying things like that, so he’d thought it all the time but looking back he’d never really said it. Then he said that. God he was an idiot.  

He walked up to your door and could hear you sniffling on the other side. He knocked and then walked in like he always did. When he did you turned your back to him. Your voice was small again, choked. 

“Go away.” Chan shook his head and took another step in. 

“No. I need to say something.” You buried your head deeper into your pillow. 

“Go awa-” 

“I think you’re beautiful.” You closed your eyes tightly, tears soaking your pillow. 

“Stop...” 

“I think you’re so beautiful and your body is...” You sat up and faced him. He had to stop. 

“Shut up! Chan just shut. Up!” 

“And your body is perf-” You got up and stormed towards him. You started beating on his chest with your fists and he held your arms stopping you, your eyes closed tight crying even harder, screaming at him. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Don’t lie to me! Don’t you ever fucking lie to me! I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me! I hate you for making me love you!” You collapsed to the floor in front of him, curled up sobbing and whimpering at his feet.  

“Liar... I hate you...” You choked out quietly and Chan stood there frozen by your confession. He looked down and saw you, then laid down on the floor beside you. He didn’t try to make you talk or hold you, he just curled up and laid there with you so you weren’t alone. He’d never leave you alone, you were his best friend and so much more. It wasn’t long before all the night’s events caught up and you both fell asleep next to each other on the floor.  

The next morning you woke up stiff and sore, your head was pounding not only from the alcohol but also the endless crying you’d done the night before. You winced as you opened your eyes and then realized the warmth behind you and an arm draped over you. You turned your head a little to look and saw Chan laying by you on the floor, his arm around you. You quickly scrambled away, waking him up in the process. You sat on the floor by your bed your knees pulled up to your chest. Your chest that felt so heavy, heavy filled with the memories and the pain from last night. Chan sat up and tried to see you through his sleep swollen eyes. 

“Uh hey... um, good morning...” He said in his deep groggy voice. You bowed your head. 

“Morning.” You replied quietly. Chan sat there and stared at you for a second until you started to squirm. He wasn’t sure what all you remembered from the night before. He finally snapped out of it and struggled standing up, stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. 

“I uh... will let you wash up then.” You nodded and he turned and left your room. You grabbed a fresh tshirt and pair of sweats and hurried to the bathroom. You took the longest shower of your life, brushed your teeth and felt a little better. Not great but you could open your eyes all the way at least. As you were coming out of the bathroom Chan was walking into the hall from the living room and you almost bumped into each other. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said as his hands gently held your arms to stop you from stumbling. You quickly pulled away. 

“It’s fine.” You practically ran for your room and shut the door. Chan knew for sure that you remembered at least part of the night before. He ran his fingers through his messy curls frustrated with himself and went into the bathroom to shower as well. When he was done he threw on some shorts and as he pulled his tshirt over his head you tapped at his door. 

“Yea?” You cracked it just a little and kept your eyes glued to the floor. 

“Um, I... can I talk to you?” Chan nodded. 

“Yea of course come-” 

“In the living room whenever you're done.” You quickly added. He frowned a little but shook his head. 

“Yea I’ll be right out.” You gave him a single nod and closed the door. It wasn’t long before Chan walked out into the living room. You were sitting on one end of the couch just kind of zoned out until he walked in. He walked over and sat on the other end of the couch turned towards you. When you finally willed yourself to look at him you couldn’t help the small frown that shifted onto your face when you saw him sitting there with his wet curls and hopeful eyes. Chan’s heart squeezed in his chest seeing your frown. 

“I think I should move out.” Like a bucket of ice water was thrown on Chan, that was his expression. 

“WHAT? WHY!?” You scoffed at his reaction and his question. 

“Seriously Chan? You know why. I was drunk but I remember everything. I just... need some... space, some time away...” You watched your hands as you picked at your cuticles. 

“From me?” Chan said pained. You looked up at him with tears rimming your eyes and nodded. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him and he was hit with a realization that he’d taken so much for granted, a realization that he was losing you. You stood up to head back to your room and Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you. 

“Last night, when I told you you’r-” You shook your head. 

“No, stop. I’m going to pack a bag and stay with Minho and Jisung for now. As soon as I have arrangements made I’ll let you know and be back for my things, I’ll try to be quick.” Tears were streaking Chan’s face now as well as your own. You pulled your wrist free and did just as you said you were, you went to your room and packed clothes and toiletries to take with you to Minho and Jisung’s. On your way out you crossed through the living room and Chan was sitting in the same spot, still with tears running down his cheeks. You walked over and when you knelt in front of him he looked over at you, his eyes glassy with tears. You pushed his damp curls back, and he sniffled, you softly kissed his cheek and then stood and left. Chan broke down crying when he heard the door click closed behind you. 

When you got to Jisung and Minho’s place the first thing you did was fall into Jisung’s embrace and cry uncontrollably. You had been strong through the whole thing and now you didn’t have to be so you cried. Jisung sat on the couch with you and let you while Minho made some tea for you all. After a good cry and some tea you got unpacked in the guest room. You all were settled in the living room watching tv after dinner when there was a knock at the door. Minho and Jisung, one on each side of you, looked at each other. Neither were expecting anyone but both knew exactly who it was, you did too. Minho got up to answer the door. 

“Min...” You called him. He turned and saw your eyes, big and worried. He held up a finger nodding and turned to go answer the door. When he opened it unsurprisingly Chan was standing there. 

“I need to talk to y/n.” Chan tried to walk in and Minho blocked him. 

“You need to give it some time Chan there’s more to this for her than you realize.” Chan pressed his lips together tightly; he knew what was at stake and he wasn’t going to lose you without a fight.  

“Minho, I need to talk to her let me through.” Minho shook his head. 

“Chan-” 

“She needs to come home!” Chan said loudly. 

“y/n please come home!” He shouted into the apartment 

“Please! Just stay with me!” Minho pushed Chan out of the doorway and walked into the hall with him pulling the door closed behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing man? Are you hearing me? There’s more to this than you think!” Chan pushed back against Minho. 

“I’m in love with her! She needs to come home, she needs to be home with me! So I can apologize, so I can cook her favorite dinner and grab that lemon lime sorbet that she loves at the corner store, so I can hold her and kiss her and tell her everything I should have long before now.” Chan shouted, huge tears in his eyes. Minho was stunned. Once he had his wits about him again he shook his head. 

“All that aside Chan. It’s not the time for this. Just... give her some time.” He spoke softly, Minho didn’t want to have to hurt his friend and turn him away but he couldn’t hurt you either. Chan nodded, turned, and left without another word, he understood. When Minho walked back into the apartment you were standing at the opening of the foyer wide eyes filled with tears. 

“Mi-Minho... did... Chan... did he just...”  

“Say that he loved you?” You nodded and a tear fell. 

“Yea, he did.” You took a deep shuddering breath and braced yourself against the wall. 

“He looked awful. It’s only been part of a day but he looked like absolute hell not having you home.” You nodded, staring off as your thoughts spun a million miles an hour in your head. Chan loved you? Like you loved him? It was impossible. You didn’t know what to do. You were so confused. You had so many questions. You finally looked up at Minho. 

“Wha- should I go home? What do I do?” Minho shrugged. 

“Do you love him still?”  

“I’ll always love him.” Minho raised his brow at you knowingly. It was late but you didn’t care. You ran to the guest room, threw on some jeans and your tennis shoes and started towards you and Chan’s apartment. When you got there you unlocked the door quietly and tip-toed in so you didn’t make any noise in case Chan was already asleep. You walked into the living room and Chan was on the couch. His head was tilted back resting on the back of the couch and his arm was thrown over his eyes. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping or not. You made your way over and stood in front of him. When Chan felt someone standing near him he jumped before he realized it was you. He relaxed and sat there looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes. 

“y/n?” You nodded trying to fight back your own tears already. He didn’t say anything he just sat up and wrapped his arms around your midsection and hugged you, his head resting on your soft tummy. You hugged him, your fingers resting in his curls. He leaned back and looked up at you and you pushed his curls back away from his face. 

“I’m so sorry y/n, I should’ve never said that to you it wasn’t right and I...” You shook your head. 

“We have a lot to talk about and we will, I just have one question right now.” Chan nodded, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“Are you in love with me?” Chan shook his head up and down without a second of hesitation. He did, he knew. 

“Say it.” He sat up straight and looked at you, into you. 

“I’m in love with you y/n. I love you. I love you so m-” You leaned down and kissed him softly. He cupped your face and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You broke away to take a breath and Chan pressed his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your wide hips, guiding you to kneel and rest on his lap, a thick thigh resting on either side of Chan’s strong legs. His hands slid down your thighs and squeezed even through the material it sent a shiver up your spine. You steadied yourself by holding on to Chan’s broad shoulders. Those same strong hands squeezing your thighs came up and held your face so softly, his thumb grazing the apple of your cheek. Tears started to well up in your eyes, Chan gently shook his head and pulled you in to kiss you again, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth softly. You opened your mouth allowing him to slide his tongue inside. Chan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you all the way down onto his lap and you could feel him pressing into you making you throb with want as he devoured your lips. His hands ghosted down your back and rested on your hips urging you to move against him and you moaned into the kiss. 

“Sound... so pretty... baby girl.” He mumbled as he kissed down your neck. You could feel yourself getting wetter hearing the sweet pet name. You tilted your head giving him better access to his target. 

“Ch-Chan... wha-what are we... doing?” You panted as your hips ground together, as his hands gripped, and his lips explored. He pulled away when you asked, he was a little red and breathless chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Uh wha... what do you want?” You looked at him and pushed his curls back away from his beautiful face again. 

“You.” He smiled and touched your face. 

“Then... I’m yours.” You kissed him hard then scrambled to get up and get your jeans and panties off. As soon as Chan realized what you were doing he lifted his hips and pulled his shorts and briefs down to his ankles. You quickly climbed back onto his lap, there was no time to be shy or bashful as Chan lined up his cock with your wet hole and eased you down on to him. You both moaned and you gasped when you were fully seated in Chan’s lap again, only this time with his dick buried deep inside you. 

“Oh god!” Chan held onto your hips, his lip between his teeth, eyes closed tightly as he felt you squeeze his length with your warm soft walls. When he finally opened his eyes he saw you looking down at him, your eyes sparkling. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and took it off over his head running your hands up and down his firm torso over his chest and abs and back up again. Chan sat up his cock moving inside you deliciously making you squirm as his hands traveled up your plush body lifting your shirt up and over your head, your full breasts lined up with his face, he sucked on one and then the other, squeezing and pushing them together then raking his teeth across your hard nipples. 

“Ch-Chan... please...” He let go of your breasts and his hands slid down your curvy frame and rested on your ass. He leaned back on the couch then squeezed and pulled your hips forward and then pushed them back as he rolled his hips up into you. 

“Like that baby girl... ride it just like that.” You planted your hands low on his abs and pushed your hips forward and then back again on your own. You moved again and again and set a rhythm. Chan’s head rolled back and his eyes closed. 

“Does it feel good?” You needed to know you he was enjoying it, you wanted to make him feel good. Chan looked at you blushing and smiling as you rode his cock. 

“Mhmm yes, you feel so good baby, don’t stop.” He squeezed your thick ass and urged you to move faster. Your breaths shortened as your hips moved quicker. 

“G-gonna cum... Ch-Chan go-gonna cu-” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you wrapped your arms around Chan’s head hugging him tight, his face buried in your big tits again. Chan could feel you dripping down his cock as you came on top of him, your hips stuttering and Chan helped you ride it out as he rolled his hips up into you harder. When you finally let go of him Chan slumped back on the couch again, held up your hips forcing you forward making you brace onto the back of the couch and with his strong hands holding you up he started pounding into you from underneath not only chasing his own high but sending you nosediving into another orgasm. More of your arousal dripped down his cock and there was a lewd smacking sound every time Chan hammered his dick into your wet cunt. He put you down and sat back up pulling you close as your cunt took his whole cock. It was messy grinding and rubbing and wet and as you shook and trembled through your third orgasm. Chan pulled you closer still, he held you tight and came deep inside you as he cupped your face and sweetly kissed your lips. You sat there sweaty and out of breath on Chan’s lap your head resting on one of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around you as his cock softened inside you. When you caught your breath and the adrenalin wore down the gravity of what just happened hit you like a train and you started to cry. Chan pulled you up and held your face worried. 

“Hey hey, what’s wrong huh? Baby don’t cry.” Hearing him call you by the sweet pet name only made you cry harder. He hugged you close again and grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. He rubbed your back and held you until you were calm again. 

“Sorry it was just a lot of big feelings all at once and I got a little overwhelmed.” Chan shook his head as he continued tracing shapes on your back to soothe you. 

“Don’t be sorry I understand. Are you okay now?” You nodded and sat up and Chan smiled at you his dimples popping up. 

“Good. Why don’t we wash up and get to bed. We’ll talk about everything first thing tomorrow, including you moving out of your room. You were confused and frowned a little. 

“You... you still think I should?” Chan nodded. 

“Absolutlely. My room is bigger so it just makes sense for you to move into mine over me moving into yours.” You let out a huge sigh of relief and shoved him a little. He hugged you close and kissed your neck. 

“I love you baby girl.” You melted into his hug. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @life-is-glorious @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“I love you too Chan.” 

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