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deerboybreeder · 4 months ago

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LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

#ftm breeding #ftmpreg #forced impreg #preggo kink #cnc stalking #cvntboy #r@pe fantasy #stalking fantasy #ftm pregnancy #cnc drugging #noncon drugging #forced intox #f0rced impreg #f0rced breeding #f0rced int0x #my writing #i have been playing way too much sta.rdew and those yandere mods have caught my attention so I might be doing some of that

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7seas-of-ryy · 3 months ago

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Come Back To Me

Author’s Note: Italics are flashbacks! Grumpy x Sunshine! No shenanigans in this one! I'm sorry!

Summary: You had always been the positive one in the IC but one mission can change everything. Set during the war with Hybern!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of torture, let me know if I need to add any others :)

"Hey, I brought you something to eat." Azriel barely whispered as he entered your room.

You looked his way but said nothing, then turned your head back to what you were looking at. The view of the city from your room was always gorgeous, but now it was just something to for you to stare at while you struggled to get through the days.

Disappointment flooded the shadowsinger when you made no move to grab the food.

It had been months of this. Months of him trying to get you back to how you used to be. It seemed you made no improvement but he still tried.

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"Azzzzzz" You called out in a sing-song voice.

"What now?" He grumbled out.

He was trying to do work, frustrated he couldn't find a solution for Rhysand. And being holed up in the library was not helping his mood.

"You have to try this! I picked it up at the bakery and it is delicious!" You told him with pure excitement, not letting his attitude alter your mood.

You never let anyone get in the way of your mood. Happiness seemed to be easy for you. Glass half full was definitely how you viewed life. Azriel envied that.

Without waiting for a reply from the male, you held up the pastry to his mouth.

"I can feed myself." He spoke and gave you a look.

Instead of replying, you put the pastry in his face again. He rolled his eyes yet took a bite of the treat.

It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. His eyes immediately shut and groaned. That was what you loved, seeing these small moments where he wasn’t worried about saving everyone.

You could see the frustration fade from his face, replaced by awe of how amazing the baked good was.

"You can have the rest! I'll get out of your hair so you can get back to work. Oh! I almost forgot, I also got you this coffee, let me know if you need any help!" You told him as you made your way to the exit.

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The spymaster felt useless. It seemed there was nothing he could do for you... until an idea came to him.

He got to the bakery as fast as possible and bought the same pastry that you had bought him all those years ago. He grabbed himself a coffee and made his way back to you.

After knocking on your door to let you know he was coming in, he walked over to you.

"Guess what I got you!" He said with a smile, "Its one of those pastries that you love so much!"

He held it in front of you and you didn't even look his way.

Suddenly his apetite was gone. He didn't think it was possible for his heart to hurt anymore than it currently did. He kissed the top of your head and let you be.

Without another thought, he went to find Rhys.

"Help her. I don't care what you have to do, help her right now." Az pleaded.

"You know I can't do that. She hasn't asked me to and I don't do that without consent." Rhys told him.

"This is all your fault! You should have stopped her! Forbid her from using herself as a distraction! She is a shell of herself because of you!" Az was now shouting, letting his emotions take over.

"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I wanted to leave her there?" Rhys shouted right back.

He was hurting from all of this too, everyone in the IC was. They had saved you and yet it seemed everyone was mourning the person you once were.

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He could hear you giggling before he saw you. As he entered his room, he saw you standing with your hands behind your back and a giant grin on your face.

Az eyed you suspiciously and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What're you doing in my room?" He questioned and his voice was rougher than he wanted it to be.

"Do you remember your leathers that ripped during the last mission we were on?" You asked the male.

He nodded his head in response, waiting for you to continue.

"I fixed them!" You said, revealing the repaired leathers that had been behind your back.

"I sewed them up and reinforced the seam!" You told him with such excitement.

His eyes softened slightly and he wanted to reach out and hug you but he couldn't let himself. He wouldn't let himself get too close to you, couldn't handle the pain of another loved one getting hurt.

"Thank you," He spoke bluntly then cleared his throat, "What were you laughing at?"

"A few of your shadows and I were just thinking about how you ripped them. I can't believe your leg slipped and you did the splits!" You let out another giggle.

He tried to fight it but a small smile made it's way to his face at your joy.

"Well, thank you again." He spoke quickly before you noticed his grin.

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He looked down at his clothes as he sat next to you in your room, there were small holes and rips all over them.

Normally you repaired them without him asking. He told you that you didn't have to but you assured him you wanted to. Now, he refused to let anyone else fix his clothes.

"Mor refuses to be seen with me in public." Azriel told you with a small laugh.

"She says I look homeless with all these rips in my clothes. But I don't care, I don't trust anyone else to sew my shirts besides you." He spoke again with a smile.

You still stayed completely still, staring at the city below. You felt hollow. It didn't matter that you were still alive, you were dead as far as you were concerned. There was no way to continue life after everything that had happened.

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It was supposed to be simple, meet with Eris, gather information on Hybern and return to the Night Court. The four of you weren't expecting a trap.

As you entered the old building to meet Eris, you could sense something was off. Your suspicions were confirmed when one wrong step set off a trap. Arrows, ash wood arrows shot out from all directions. Luckily you weren't hit by any. Two hit Rhys, one in his shoulder and one in his wing. One hit Feyre in her leg. And four...four hit Azriel; two in his wings, one in his side and one in his leg.

You ran to Az to help him, seeing he had the worst wounds.

"Hey hey, you're ok. I'm going to get you home and we can heal you up, ok?" You told him, giving him a smile that didn't reach your eyes. You forced your tears away, not willing to let him think you were worried.

He loved that smile. He was dying and yet all he could think about was how much your smile meant to him.

As you were trying to break the arrows so you could pull them out of him, you noticed his face pale. And then you heard it, Hybern's soldiers.

The trap must have alerted them and they would be here any minute.

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Rhys had told Az that you drank a few sips of water and ate a tiny bit. As soon as he got the news, he was running to your room. You hadn't responded to anyone at all yet but he seemed to be filled with a new hope.

So, he sat here talking to you and couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"I heard you got some food down, I'm proud of you." He gently offered his words.

He stayed with you for the rest of the day, talking to you about any and everything. He had never spoken so much in his life.

Months passed after that with no more improvements in your condition, it seemed you would never get better. He knew he fell in love with you no matter how hard he tried to stop it, so he fought like hell to hold onto whatever hope he had.

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You dragged Az with all your strength over to Rhys and Feyre. She seemed to be doing ok despite the arrow still sticking out of her thigh. She had pulled the arrows out of Rhys but he was still very hurt.

"Are you ok to winnow?" You asked Rhys.

"I think so, but I won't be able to carry all three of you." He spoke through pained breaths.

"You don't need to. Just get Feyre and Az out of here." You commanded your High Lord.

You knew that if they stayed, you would all be dead. Rhys couldn't carry all of you in his condition, you just hoped he would listen to what you told him to do.

"What? No, how will you get out?" Azriel whispered from the ground.

"I have a plan." You told him.

"You three can't fight, you will die if you stay here. Winnow them out and get Az to a healer." You told Rhys through your mind.

He seemed to be going back and forth in his head, trying to figure out a different way. He gave you a weary look.

"There's no other way. I'll be ok, you have to go now. They're almost here." You added.

The soldiers came running in, ready to attack. You ran right at them, fighting them so they couldn’t get to the other three. You could hear Az screaming to stay as Rhys grabbed him and winnowed out.

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He had been drunk for three days straight at this point. He welcomed the numbness after all the agony he has felt. Once it was night time, he made his way to your room and sat down outside of your door to sleep, just like he did every night in case you needed him.

In the morning, Feyre passed by your door. Az was still asleep and smelled of booze.

She quietly snuck past him and went into your room.

"Hey, I'm not sure what to say or do to help you. But I wanted to let you know how hard Azriel is trying. I mean...you know that but I just want you to realize how much he loves you. How much we all love you. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about what happened, I wish it had been me instead... but you need to know that Azriel is drowning. He is drowning without you. I have never seen him like this and I think we might lose him for good. If you don't have the strength to fight for yourself, please… fight for him." Feyre pleaded with you.

You didn't respond but what she said stuck with you. You had tried everything but it didn't matter, you couldn't find the strength to help yourself. Maybe it would be easier to find strength for the one you love.

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"We just got word. Y/N is alive and we have her location." Rhys spoke quickly.

Azriel shot up from his spot, getting his weapons ready instantly.

As soon as everyone was set, they left to rescue you. After a couple hours, they found you. You were bloody and bruised all over, chained up. Tears welled up in Azriel's eyes but he focused on saving you. He flew you home and you showed Rhys everything.

Rhys saw how you were tortured, starved, and beat every day. He saw how they questioned you about the Night Court and you never gave up anything. You were held captive for three months…he wasn’t sure how you survived.

After they saved you and found out everything you went through, Azriel helped you bathe. You never talked, just nodded or shook your head and you never looked up. He was so grateful you were safe and back with them but he sure did miss your smile.

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It was a beautiful morning, you sat watching the orange and pink sky as the city woke up. There was a knock at the door and Az walked in. He didn’t speak as he set a tray of breakfast foods and coffee down. You didn’t even look over at him but not because you were still checked out. No, this time it was because you couldn’t pull your eyes from the beauty of the sunrise.

You aren’t exactly sure why but you felt something crack inside of you, this was the first time since you were taken that you felt something positive. It was the first time you wanted to live to see these pink and orange hues again.

When Azriel looked over at you he realized there were tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Are you ok?! What’s wrong!?” He panicked, checking everywhere for threats.

“It’s beautiful.” You choked out in between sobs, pointing at the sunrise.

He let out a breath he had been holding in and visibly relaxed. He sat next to you and pulled you close. You leaned into him and he put his arm around you. Neither of you talked, just enjoyed watching the sky come to life in front of you.

He looked down at you after some time had passed and saw the faintest smile on your face. It was barely there but he saw it and that was all that mattered.

“It’s breathtaking.” Azriel stated.

You shook your head in agreement, but what you didn’t know was that he wasn’t talking about the view, he was talking about you.

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“Please please please!” You begged Azriel.

“You woke me up at 4am to watch the sunrise?!” He mumbled with a look of irritation on his face.

“You have to see it! I promise it’ll be worth it!” You continued to beg.

“Fine but I’m not going to be happy about it.” He grunted as he got out of bed, following you to the balcony.

You pulled him down next to you, the pure excitement and adoration you had for something as simple as a sunrise made the spymaster’s heart clench.

The both of you sat and watched the sunrise and you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” You asked him without taking your eyes from the sky.

“It really is.” He responded without taking his eyes from you.

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luveline · 11 months ago

Note

a hotch x bombshell!reader, where it's cold and reader's adamant that the only solution is to hug and cling onto hotch like a leech lol? <3

With Gideon nowhere to be seen, Morgan face down in his phone, and Spencer and Elle off doing who knows what, you and Hotch are alone in your venture for lunch. It's exactly how you like it.

You shrug into your coats and escape the precinct. A short walk lands you in the middle of a crowded town centre, farmers market stalls shielded from the rain by their thatched roofs, families zipping in and out of stores to hide from the rain. You pull the expandable umbrella from your bag.

“Do you want to hold it?” you ask.

Hotch rolls his eyes.

“What? If I hold it, I'll stab your eyes out. It would be a shame, Hotch, they're a beautiful shape.”

Hotch takes the umbrella gently, his fingers brushing yours. They're warm where yours are cold, a little bigger with calluses on the skin beneath his first and second finger. You'd love to squeeze your fingers between his, steal his warmth, tether him to you for a while before work starts again and everything's tense.

The wind whips hard. Hotch doesn't seem affected, holding the umbrella over your heads like the wind is breezing straight through him.

You shiver. “How far is the place?”

“You cold?”

“Like, ten minutes? Fifteen?”

Hotch laughs to himself. “Five. Button your coat.”

“My outfit,” you grumble, buttoning your coat reluctantly.

Hotch walks closer to you after that, the arm that's holding the umbrella behind your shoulder a slip of warmth. He's very, very warm, and he keeps the umbrella over your head diligently. An idea begins to take shape.

“Hotch, would you say you're a gentleman?”

“That… depends on what you're about to ask me.”

You look up into his face. He's certainly handsome, and he always holds the door for you, always brings you a coffee even though you tease him about being in love with you. His frown is curiously missing as he slows his pace, the two of you walking a meander through the street. “What level of unprofessionalism is acceptable between us?”

“Again…”

To his credit, he smiles at you. Doesn't waver as you slip your hand through his arm. “Is this okay? Please?” you ask.

“It's okay,” he says steadily.

“So you're obsessed with me. Got it.”

He doesn't laugh, but you'd like to think he wants to, he's too maddeningly serious is all. You check his face a few times to make sure it truly is okay, leaning into his side once you're certain.

“Not far,” he assures you. “Next time, we'll drive.”

“I have never been so cold in my life.”

“No? What about Alaska?”

“No, because Morgan is a better man than you are. He kept me stocked in hot chocolate and he bought me that hoodie with the moose on the front.”

Hotch transfers the umbrella from one hand into the other to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You squash a cheesy smile down and replace it with a smirk in case he looks at you, ever-pleased as he pulls you in as tightly as he can without tripping over you. “I offered to get you a sweater,” he murmurs, sounding about as irritated as he can be with you, which isn't a lot, “I offered you my coat. You wouldn't say yes.”

“A real gentleman wouldn't have to ask.”

He sighs and rubs your upper arm. “Of course.”

You cling to him for the rest of the walk, and for some time in the sandwich shop too. He doesn't try to remove you nor tell you off, doesn't argue his case. He doesn't so much as mention how he ordered your lunch exactly as you like it —with all your alterations and add-ons— though you know you didn't ask him to.

A gentleman after all. The urge to loop your hands together on the walk back is extreme, but you deny yourself the pleasure once again.

Maybe some day.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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itsmrshamilton · 3 months ago

Text

Be A Good Boy | LH44

Summary: Y/n flashes Lewis to end an argument.

a/n: i spent very little time on this one so its not great.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

"Do you have to go tonight? It's pretty cold out."

You sighed in annoyance as you slipped on your heels. This argument was draining your energy and ruining your party mood.

"Lewis, I'm not telling you this again. We planned this a while ago. It's happening tonight." You stood up to smoothe out your outfit. A boob-tube tight dress that barely reached halfway down your thighs and was covered in sequins.

Lewis looked pained as he watched you watch yourself in the mirror. Your braids pinned up and your dark skin glistening.

"Y/n, please. Look, if you're going to go out tonight, then maybe change?" You shot him a withering look before marching out of the bedroom. He groaned loudly.

"I'm going out, Lewis!"

Lewis followed after you.

You stood there with the top of your dress pulled down to your waist. Your breasts barely contained by the strapless bra you wore. The top part of a lacy set that Lewis bought you last week.

"Y/n. Y/n!" You picked up your purse on the kitchen counter and checked its contents. He came to stand right in front of you.

Your boyfriend had just arrived home from work right as you began getting ready to go out that night. His mouth had hardened into a thin line, and tension in the room had grown. Lewis wasn't usually possessive or jealous, but he didn't like the idea of you being surrounded by unknown men drooling over your pretty little body. It made his heart race in the wrong way. He had to try and get you to stay home or allow him to come with you. But you weren't budging. After weeks of traveling with Lewis from track to track, you were more than ready to spend some time with your girls in a club playing deafening music. Lewis would just have to suck it up and wait for you for once. Now he stood with his hands on his hips, about to say something that would make you angrier. You'd had enough.

"Y/n-" Sudden silence as his jaw dropped and his eyes grew in size.

"I'll be gone for 5 hours, Lewis. Then I'll come home, remove my dress -" You whispered as his breath hitched. "And we'll have a party of our own."

You smirked at his state - eyes glued onto your chest, hands slowly slipping off the waistband of his pants. He was gobsmacked.

"So, you be a good boy while I'm gone and I'll give you the best reward. Yeah?" You whispered.

Lewis nodded slowly. You giggled as you pulled up your dress and grabbed your stuff. You kissed his cheek before sashaying out of the apartment.

Lewis rubbed his chin as he took in what happened. You just flashed him to shut him up and win an argument. He couldn't wait til you got home. The next 5 hours were going to be long and brutal.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Thanks for reading! Be sure to interact before you leave. 🫶 do not alter, repost or copy my work onto another site.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #team lh44 #lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut

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freshxsturniolo · 4 months ago

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4th july pt2! - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

pt1 here

“that chris by any chance?” your best friend tara says as she finally jumps into bed. you’re staying the night at jake, johnnies and carringtons place and you’re wrapped tightly under the duvet in their spare room. tara has been running around still with the three boys, but as soon as your phone altered you to that first text, you’d excused yourself.

you smirk as you look at her and she gives you an eyebrow raise.

“i didn’t know you were talking to him like THAT” she says now. “when i saw him spinning you around in the pool i thought nothing of it until i saw his hands on your ass.”

a laugh escapes you, your head sinking into your pillow as tara leans forward to hold your arm, laughing with you.

“i’m serious” she choked out. “i didn’t say a thing to anyone thinking i’d leave you both to it until you started practically fucking in the pool”

“tara!” you squeal. “we weren’t fucking in the pool!”

she laughs, that signature tara yummy laugh, and then rolls her eyes. “okay maybe i was being dramatic there but, jesus, he looks like a good kisser”

you chuckle slightly, “he is.”

“you could have invited him back here ya know, jake wouldn’t have mind. i could have slept somewhere else”

you’re listening but sending across your last text to chris, butterflies in your stomach at the flirting once again that now felt much deeper before shutting your phone off and placing it under your pillow, turning round to face tara.

“he wants to take me for dinner tomorrow”

tara eyes go wide. “oh fuck. wait. so this is more than just -“

she stops as she doesn’t know how to explain it, but you know exactly what she means. yes, for now, this is defiantly more than a one night stand. at least, you secretly hope. his words of being respectful could all be a plot. you might have dinner tomorrow and realise that actually, you’d be better off as friends. but for now, entertaining a thought of something more with chris sturniolo was making you giddy.

“yeah. i think so” you confirm.

tara slaps her head back onto the pillow and looks up at the ceiling.

“you did look cute together, im not gonna lie”

you smile as your mind goes back to the party just a few hours ago. you’re still drunk now, but after you’d got out the pool the drinking slowed down.

you had stayed in the pool for only a short while after, your hair and make up completely ruined yet you didn’t have a care. outfit completely soaked through. but the entire time you couldn’t deattach your lips. it’s like all that flirting and lack of alone time together had bought a force over you that neither of you knew how to stop. but when you realised you were the only two in the pool, you pulled him out. hand in hand.

your friends had noticed by that point, and a few typical claps and cheers erupted from them, which in your drunken state had only made you laugh. as tara had suggested, no one knew you and chris were actually talking as much as you were and you knew everyone around you thought it was just a drunken kiss. but as the night went on and you both changed, jake nice enough to let chris raid his wardrobe for some comfier and none wet clothes, you changing into your overnight clothes you’d already bought, you couldn’t stay away from each other once more.

the party continued on behind you, but you stayed firmly close to chris. he’d thrown on a pair of black ed hardy shorts that jake had no intention of ever wearing and you were in your short pyjama bottoms, and at every single moment from then your skin was touching. it started as sitting back in the circle you left, legs crossed and knees touching. which led to the occasional arm touch as you laughed at each others jokes. that lead to you leaning into him as you got tired, to eventually sitting inbetween his legs, his chest as a back support as he lay his chin atop your head as you spoke to the people around you. his hands around your waist and your hands clasped against his.

when it was time to leave, you made him promise to text when he got home as you walking him to the front door, but it was only second before he was pushing you against the wall. his hands under your jaw as your kiss deepened, and at one point you where sure that actually, scrap the dinner, he was going to end up staying the night or taking you home, before he finally pulled away, a breathless “i’ll see you tomorrow” escaping his lip before he turned to meet his brothers in the car.

you had not felt this way in a long time. had never had a guy treat you like an actual human being and not just someone to get into bed. so yes, tomorrow couldn’t come quick enough. hangover or no hangover, you were excited to spend some time with him.

"do you like him?" tara says now, looking at you, and you give her a smile.

"its too early to say, isn't it?" you ask, and tara rolls her eyes.

"im assuming you agreed to dinner tomorrow?"

"yes"

she laughs. "so yes. you like him. when was the last time you went to dinner with somebody?"

and you're laughing too, because deep down you know that chris might most defiantly become more than just a few dates.

tagged : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss

#chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #tara yummy #jake webber #johnnie guilbert #carrington usa

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ckret2 · 4 months ago

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Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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sanakimohara · 10 months ago

Note

hi, is it okay if i request something? 💖

thinking hard about roommate! seungmin..

imagine you havent been able to get off in over a month or so and youre so sexually frustrated that you end up impulsively buying a fuck machine online.. your roommate ends up going out to meet with friends so you find it the perfect time to try your newly bought toy out, and as you use it the pent up stress and frustration just spills out and youre so fucking horny you end up orgasming and squirting for what seems like hours, until you finally hear the door click open and you try to reach for the remote to turn it off, only to realize it fell on the floor, and youre lying on top of your bed with legs too weak to even attempt to sit back up. the machine is still fucking in and out of your dripping cunt and when seungmin shouts that hes back but never hears back an answer, he gets worried and walks into your room only to find you desperately begging him to help, to turn off the machine for you, but he cant help the fact that hes slowly getting hard as he watches you get fucked by a pathetic little dildo..

“SURREAL SATISFACTION” K. S. Pt.1

….now this is a mouthwatering request 🖤 lets get to it shall we?…breaking this down into 2 parts btw.

[ MDNI ]

+++++++

"Ugh!" You groaned loudly, pulling your hand from between your spread legs and sitting up with a dejected expression on your face as the desire to touch the edge of yourself disintegrated without warning.

Frustration, stress, and despair coiled in the pit of your stomach -erasing the prickle of pleasure you'd been trying to increase for the past week and a half.

There was no luck for you though. It seemed like something went wrong or interrupted every time you touched yourself. The first few times hadn't bothered you much, but now….going nearly two weeks without masturbating was altering your psyche for the worst.

Everyday tasks were becoming annoying to complete, and sleeping through the night turned into restless tossing and turning, but the cherry on top for you was the consistent ache your cunt wouldn't let go of. Being horny 24/7 wasn't news for you, and you'd found that watching porn while your roommate was gone helped quell some of your urges.

However, this wasn't always an excellent solution for two main reasons:

Seungmin could return to your shared apartment anytime -already comfortable with just waltzing into your room whenever he pleased if the door wasn't locked. You knew he'd never judge you for watching erotica since sex was the causal topic for the both of you…but somewhere deep in your soul, the thought of Seungmin seeing you so desperately in need of sex -to the point you'd turned to porn for salvation- made you blush shamefully.

You couldn't even get off to porn anymore. It was nice to watch; it was better for edging yourself, but it was still not enough to finish the job. Yet, despite how numb you were becoming to sexual media, you continued to consume it.

Now, you were stuck in a frivolous circle, edging, giving up on that, and resorting to your laptop's browser history….again.

"Fuck my life…" you mutter angrily, laying flat on your stomach as you slip your laptop from underneath your pillows and open it right up to visit whatever porn website you can find.

You'd already greedily indulged in most forums, raking through each website category to find your favorites and watching a handful of videos before becoming bored or dozing off.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you passed page after page of porn content, feet kicking back and forth gently, and your bottom lips catching between your trashy as you scanned more forums.

One finally caught your eye. "Specifically for Women" was the headline, and you immediately clicked on it with a shadow of hope on your face as it loaded on the screen.

You browsed the site for nearly an hour, thoroughly enjoying the content provided, but still unable to get off to it. You began to consider exiting the forum, seeing how late it was, and deciding that getting some sleep would benefit you. That was your plan before Seungmin stalked into your room without warning. "You have any plans for tomorrow, sweetheart?" He asks you nonchalantly, heading straight for your nightstand to retrieve the charger you'd borrowed from him earlier.

You snapped the laptop shut as he neared the side of the bed, unplugging the cord with one swift hand as he raised a brow at you, waiting to hear an answer to his question. You smile nervously, nodding to whatever he says, "You are busy? I'm just double-checking because I'll be out with some friends all day, but I have a package coming in. I was gonna ask you to sign for it while I’m gone.”

You cut into his explanation, studying his features as he looked you up and down, "Sure, I can sign for it while you're gone, Min. It's no problem…" you offer your help with a tight-lipped smile, subconsciously hugging your laptop closed to your chest. Seungmin laughs softly as he takes notice of your anxious action. "I thought you said you'd be busy-"he pries, and you gulp before rushing out a haphazard excuse.

"W-well, I won't be gone all day, Min. Sorry if you misunderstood what I meant.."

He stared down at you, scanning your obviously flustered state with a smile tugging at his lips. "What were you up to just now, Y/n?" He asks the question casually, holding your gaze for what seems like an eternity until you mumble, "…nothing." Seungmin can feel the guilt oozing off your skin; it's swimming in your eyes, and he wonders why you'd lie to him about something bothering you.

He thought by now -after two years of being roommates- that you'd established a typical exchange of trust. Neither of you acknowledged the steady tension growing up til now, and he preferred it that way, but within moments like this, he wished you'd open up to him like a proper significant other would.

But you weren't his partner, and he decided not to press the issue if you weren't comfortable addressing it.

"Hm…okay. Well, I'll be up pretty late tonight. If you need anything, just shout for me…"!Seungmin circles around your bed again, flashing you one last smile before he leaves your room, and when the distinct 'click' of the door closing hits your ears, you open your laptop up again.

"That was way too close," you mutter to yourself, exhaling heavily to slow the rapid beating of your heart, but the image of Seungmin looming over you -unknowingly feeding your lust-driven psychosis- had your core throbbing all over again.

You couldn't take this much longer, enduring the sight of Seungmin without jumping on him for a bid at sexual relief, and if you thought about how that's playing out for more than ten seconds, you were back to square one of the problem.

So, you tried to fix it with a hasty decision. Buying a sex toy, not just an essential aid for arousal, but a contraption you were confident could get the job done…at least once.

Thankfully, the site you'd been browsing through for the past hour and a half had an expansive selection of products. Finding and purchasing the needed item took you only a short time.

< Your order is complete. Express shipping arrives in 24 hours or less! >

You stared at the message, confused as to why it said you paid for express shipping when you clearly clicked on "standard', but since the mistake was made and over with, you shut your laptop with a tired sigh.

In the living room, Seungmin sauntered over to the plush black cushioned couch, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, his phone occupying the other. He wasn't lying when he told you he'd be up late. The reason why was similar to your own for dodging his question.

Sex.

More specifically, how to get it from you, and with all the intelligence in the world, Seungmin thought his friends could help him achieve this.

He was proved wrong. They all had suggestions he'd previously employed that all ended with little to no results being attained.

"Have you walked around shirtless like Chan Hyung," Jisung piped up at the end of their three-way call, to which Felix laughed and added to the question, "Try shirtless with grey sweats. That'll be more accurate."

Seungmin groaned at their idiocy, grumbling as he sank onto the couch, "I've tried both, but she just avoids me the entire day when I do. And I know it's not because she doesn't like me back. She'll walk around barely clothed the next day, asking me to help with everything, and I know it's her way of getting back at me…"

It was, but you'd never say it aloud for him to hear, and he'd grown too headstrong to admit the effect it had on him.

Felix spoke up, amused by his friend's troubles but still wanting to provide a helping hand. "This might sound weird…maybe even a little off-putting…but let her catch you…ya know..?"

Seungmin sat up straighter, face scrunching as he tried to decipher what he meant, "No, I don't know, Lix…" He heard a nervous chuckle from the blonde, a sharp inhale, and an explanation he'd never imagined Felix, of all people, to give.

"Let her catch you masturbating."

"Felix?!" Jisung shouted in disbelief, voicing the same shock Seungmin couldn't seem to put into words as he mulled over the suggestion. Felix huffed, disregarding Jisung's dramatics to address Seungmin directly. "Listen, it worked for me before. Maybe it'll work for you. Sounds like she feels the same way you do. She just probably needs…a sign from you."

Felix had a point…sort of. Seungmin knew it but wasn't sure jerking off to get your attention was the right way to go.

That was until he heard your muffled moans vibrate through the wall.

He froze, unconsciously licking his lips as he listened to your whimpers of pleasure, not hearing a word Jisung or Felix said for the next minute.

Is she….touching herself right now?

Seungmin hung his head, gripping his phone so hard he thought it would break, and his joggers started to pull tight as his cock hardened. "Seungmin…hey Min, you still there?" Jisung's voice sounded miles away, drowned out by the salacious moans that you failed to stifle in the mess of your covers, but he heard every slutty sound you made.

"I. I gotta go, guys. I'll call you later.." he ended the call without a second thought, barely registering his friend's farewells, closing his eyes as he honed in on your voice. He could hear the thick covers on your bed shifting with your every move, and it wasn't hard for him to imagine how dainty you must've looked, tossing and turning with a hand tucked between your thighs.

Seungmin felt his throat go dry as the image of your legs spread open for him, what your creamy folds would look like when he sank two fingers into you, and how long he could make you cum like that -clenching around his fingers as they fucked you at a practiced rhythm.

His head reeled back against the wall, a soft grunt leaving his lips as he henpecked them and laid one of his hands over the bulge in his pants. You were talking yourself through it now, trying to edge your body closer to a release but unintentionally encouraging Seungmin to touch himself as he listened.

"…fuck, please…just like that…" you whined into the still air of your room, twisting your head against the pillows as your own fingers deviled farther into your walls. You were right at your end, closer to achieving your goal by using the image of Seungmin staring you down as fuel, but the oncoming threat of dissatisfaction crept in quicker than you could pump your fingers. You couldn't reach deep enough and explore the entire expanse of your warm walls as thoroughly as you assumed Seungmin could, which drained your imagination entirely.

You drew your hand away from your cunt with a defeated groan, whining curses as your slick-coated fingers started to dry, and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. This was unfair. The universe had to be playing a sick joke on you to make you crave a man so much that the simple act of pleasuring yourself to the thought of him felt useless.

The devastation had your head spinning, lacking logic, and doused in a pathetic sense of loneliness. "Seungmin.." you mumbled hopelessly, ready to cry as you snuggled into one of the pillows at the head of your bed. Saying his name eased your distraught state, made you remember who he was to you, and brought you back down into the depths of reality. He was your roommate who occasionally flirted with you.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Crushing on him was bad enough; craving his touch was worse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. With a heavy heart and mind, you dozed off into sleep, hugging your pillow tight to substitute Seungmin 's embrace, and tried to forget your shameful night.

Seungmin's eyes shot open when he could no longer hear your sweet cries, his hand just beginning to fist his fully erect shaft, and precum oozed from his aching tip in a steady stream.

Why'd you stop? How could you leave him on the edge like this? Were you trying to agitate him, or was this another ploy to get back at him for something?

He was too frustrated to formulate answers to those questions, hyper-focused on the coil in his torso begging to snap, and unable to resist the urge to finish himself off. He pumped his fist slowly, replaying the last five minutes of your soft moans as a guide, and his own groans began to surface then.

Seungmin didn't bother to shut himself up, considering Felix's earlier suggestion, but put his own twist on it.

You didn't need to catch him.

No, he'd let you hear him as shamelessly as you had. And even at the brink of sleep, you listened, biting your lip as his husky voice trembled through the wall, and the sound of his cock sliding through his wet palm brought a heady blush to your cheeks. He moaned your name with confidence, smirking to himself as his hips bucked involuntarily at the thought of you, "Y/n…Y/n…mmm, fuck.. you're so good baby…so, so good."

The heat rose in your cunt like a raging wildfire as he let your name ring through the apartment.

Did he not care that you were on the other side of the room? Was he that certain you were asleep? Why don't you want him to stop? Why are you listening so intently?…

You gulped, subconsciously wrapping your legs around your pillow to rut against it, following the cadence of Seungmin's moans. His words began to slur together, dissolving into rough grunts as he reached his high, and with a final curse falling from his lips, he came.

You bit into your pillow to mask the excited mewl you let out, hearing him unravel. Visualizing the amount of cum that drenched his hand felt sinful; having to bite the tip of your index finger to keep from rushing out of your room to lick his hand and cock clean felt even worse, but you managed to stay sane…to stay put as he shuffled around in the other room to fix himself up.

Seungmin heard your timid squeals, though, grinning like a madman as he cleaned himself up and took a sip of his alcohol. His plan had gone smoothly, if not perfectly, and if your reaction meant anything…..he was sure it wouldn't be long before you came crawling to him for more.

++++++++

Like I said, I’m breaking this down into to two parts. 🖤 We’ll get to the best half soon. ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I support the Seungmin Sir/Master kink agenda and this edit is a contributing factor in my argument. 🖤 credits to creator btw 🖤

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yanderes-galore · 6 months ago

Note

I gots more, can you do Yuji (and/or Gojo) with a darling from the real world? Or like he’s self aware?

My favorite way to write self-aware show characters is to write an entity that acts just like them. Similar to an Analog Horror I've seen (Forgot the name but if you want it, I can hunt it down) So for this, that's kinda the plot I'm working with if that's okay. So like... a Creepypasta-like thing if that's fine.

So, the plot is similar to something I've done in the past for both: You buy a DVD of JJK... but something isn't quite right as you soon learn. No plot spoilers here for JJK. Purely an AU.

Feedback is appreciated as long as it's constructive! I could probably do this with other characters if I was given ideas. Both ideas start the same but begin to differ later.

Yandere Self-Aware! Yuji Itadori + Satoru Gojo

(Analog AU - An Experimental Name?)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, "Self-Aware" yandere, Analog AU (?), Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Unrequited feelings, Delusional behavior, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship.

Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori is your favorite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.

There's just something about his resolve and ability to find happiness despite his situation that makes you fond of him.

It's all harmless fun for you, everyone has a favorite character after all.

Although... unlike most... it appears you've been caught in something you weren't expecting.

The DVD you bought off online didn't have the best packaging... but DVDs that aren't official tend to have bootleg packaging.

You just couldn't afford a streaming service and wanted to binge the two seasons of JJK they have out.

It seemed harmless enough, who hasn't pirated or purchased a pirated DVD at some point without knowing.

Even when you watched the DVD, everything seemed the same.

You were completely unaware of something lurking deep within.

This entity, now given the name Yuji Itadori, was awoken and given life when you used the DVD.

It could sense your fondness for the character and took the likeness of him.

Everything from appearance, personality, and mannerisms was copied as the entity took a new life.

Eventually they felt they were the character and felt every bit of fondness you had for them.

That's how "Yuji Itadori" came into being.

It's when this transfer is complete that things start to alter.

It's like the DVD opens an alternate universe, one where the events of JJK are part of their very own world.

Yuji originally believed everything was real.

This was his life... until he felt your presence.

At first he's in denial, not liking the idea of being trapped somewhere.

But then he sees you.

You are someone he can't reach, someone beyond a screen he can only look at.

While you watch the events of JJK play out on your little DVD, Yuji watches you.

It's a bit ironic, until he grows strong enough and more aware, the show character watches you just as invested as you are.

Yuji can't help but fall into a delusional sense of love and care for you.

He can't help but be excited whenever he catches glimpses of you.

His obsession is vague, as he is just now learning about his love for you.

He feels he wants to protect you, yet expresses frustration when he can only watch you from a clear barrier.

You can pick up on his self-aware behavior, things like glances, waves, and times where he says your name when other characters aren't looking.

The change is slow for him, but quick for you.

His feelings and growth continues through the episodes, the time feeling like months or years for him but hours for you.

Half way through the show you notice Yuji's behavior.

You're frightened at first, but maybe a morbid curiosity fills you?

This begins with you two properly communicating.

Certain plot points are paused or lengthened all so Yuji can speak with you.

It's so strange... like you're actually speaking to a human being.

Yuji is always very affectionate when speaking with you.

Often calling you nicknames, asking questions, and providing comfort after long days.

You see him as your little digital companion, while Yuji sees you as a lot more than that.

He's the only one aware of you, the other characters seem more like puppets to Yuji so he can play a story for you.

He likes seeing you happy and does whatever he can to make you smile.

Darker behavior manifests later as Yuji begins to realize he... isn't a big part of your life.

Through the screen he can see you have friends, family, everything.

You're the biggest part of his world, but he's the smallest part of yours.

As this DVD has supernatural capabilities (clearly), perhaps Yuji would pull you into his world once he fears he can lose you.

The next time you get to watch JJK, Yuji greets you.

"Hey! I've been preparing a surprise for you..."

Curious, you go to ask what it is...

Only to pass out.

By the time you wake up, you're not in your world anymore.

You wake up in a dorm, clearly not your room.

As you wake up, you jump back when you see Yuji kneeling beside you.

"Great! It did work!" He chirps happily, eyes closed with a smile on his face.

You go to ask what happened, only for Yuji to hold your hands.

"I brought you to my world! You mean a lot to me... plus, here I can shape this world to anything you want."

Yuji pulls you closer, closer to the point you can see a red glint in his eyes.

"I love you... and I just want to make you happy." Yuji vows, the confession innocent despite the situation.

"We'll make this our own little world."

"I want to go home!" You cry, confusing Yuji.

"Why would you ever want to leave...?"

Yuji asks, pulling you close.

"You'll be so happy here..." Yuji murmurs, eyes giving off a dull red glow.

"You won't ever want to leave... you won't ever leave me again."

From that point on, you live in an artificial world.

You and Yuji are the only ones "real" here.

Now he's the most important thing in your life, just like you are to him.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo is your favorite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.

There's just something about his playful/cocky attitude and perhaps even his looks that makes you fond of him.

It's all harmless fun for you, everyone has a favorite character after all.

Although... unlike most... it appears you've been caught in something you weren't expecting.

The DVD you bought online didn't have the best packaging... but DVDs that aren't official tend to have bootleg packaging.

You just couldn't afford a streaming service and wanted to binge the two seasons of JJK they have out.

It seemed harmless enough, who hasn't pirated or purchased a pirated DVD at some point without knowing.

Even when you watched the DVD, everything seemed the same.

You were completely unaware of something lurking deep within.

This entity, now given the name Satoru Gojo, was awoken and given life when you used the DVD.

It could sense your fondness for the character and took the likeness of him.

Everything from appearance, personality, and mannerisms was copied as the entity took a new life.

Eventually they felt they were the character and felt every bit of fondness you had for them.

That's how "Satoru Gojo" came into being.

It's when this transfer is complete that things start to alter.

It's like the DVD opens an alternate universe, one where the events of JJK are part of their very own world.

Due to how Gojo is, he'll probably learn that his world isn't real faster than Yuji.

He'll learn that things aren't as they seem, that those around him are merely puppets for him to use.

At first he's a bit hurt... yet now he's curious.

He only gets more intrigued when he learns of your presence.

While you watch him through the screen, he watches you.

You always look so happy when he plays his part on screen, playing his role through the events of his world.

Gojo still plays along, even as he grows increasingly obsessive about you.

He just knows you two are different.

It only annoys him when he's kept from you by a clear barrier, looking at you through your TV or monitor as you watch him.

He's strong... but not strong enough to have you, it seems.

To him, it feels like his obsession has gone on for years.

For you? It feels like hours.

You're just happy to watch one of your favorite shows...

Completely unaware of your favorite character fantasizing about finally meeting you.

That is until Gojo decides enough is enough... and makes his presence known.

"Oi! Can you hear me?"

He makes contact with you by pausing events in the story and waving to the screen.

Maybe similar to the Yuji portion you're overcome with morbid curiosity more than fear.

Which leads to you feeding into Gojo's obsession by speaking with him.

Due to having his world under his control, Gojo's capable of pausing or slowing down events in the story to speak with you.

He alters things to entertain you and often speaks to you.

You end up spending more time speaking to him than watching the show normally.

You learn that Gojo is very playful with you.

He often waves, makes heart shapes with his hands, and winks at you.

He likes to say your name to mess with you and does his best to press himself closer to the screen so you can touch it.

It disturbs you that the screen is often... warm when he touches it.

Gojo's usually always playful with you until he begins to realize the truth.

He loves you, more than anything he loves you.

His little world would feel lonely without you.

His whole purpose is to entertain you, to make a good story for you and keep you company.

He lives for you.

Yet he notices you have others around you...

You have friends, family, perhaps even a lover.

He's only a little part of your life... and it upsets him greatly.

Gojo tries to hide his hurt from you as he watches you chat with others.

He wants nothing more than to have you all to himself in this little world of his...

When he grows stronger... he can.

It's ironic for Gojo to need to be "stronger".

In his world, he's the strongest.

Yet he takes time to grow more in order to have you.

He won't have to worry about your lover or anyone afterwards.

"I have something to show you~!"

His voice is in a purr when you go to speak with him again.

"Here's my gift... you know I just want to make you happy..."

You begin to feel woozy, slumping over.

"You know I just want to make you mine."

By the time you wake up, you're in a room you don't recognize.

Only for Gojo to show up with a grin.

"Yo!" He chirps, ignoring the fear in your eyes. "I did pretty good, right? You're in my world now... but I can change anything I want to make it the best for you."

He's so giddy about having you beside him.

In here, he doesn't have to worry about those close to you.

He has everything under control... and you in his arms.

"What's with the look? Come on, where's my hug?" He pouts, pulling you against him even if you struggle.

"You'll get used to it..." Gojo whispers, a kiss placed on your forehead.

"I exist to please you..." Gojo whispers, kissing your cheek.

"This is our world now... I'll never let you leave me now that I've got you."

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere self-aware au #yandere yuji itadori #yandere gojo satoru #yandere analog au

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sydforreal24 · 2 months ago

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Feixiao thoughts!! thank you to the awesome anon who requested some thoughts for her 💜💜

sfw and nsfw utc!!

(sfw)

I feel like Feixiao would love you dearly but would want to shy away from you. She’s seen so many of her colleagues get lost in the war and it would kill her to lose you too.

If I’m being honest, I feel like she would never ask you out or even think she was good enough to be in a relationship with you unless you asked first.

She’s is conflicted to say the least, she loves you with her whole heart but is terrified of someone snatching you as a way to get back at her (even though she’s literally the strongest baddie ever).

In the beginning of the relationship, she keeps it sincere and sweet. She buys you gifts, alters her schedule around you to give her as much time as possible with you, and she adores walking through the yaoqing streets under the stars with you by her side <<33

——————————————————————————

(nsfw)

As things progress throughout your relationship you’ve noticed the long stares that she gives you.

Her eyes, how they soak up every inch of your body as the two of you are seated in a meeting. One that she insisted you attended so you could make use of the new outfit she bought you.

Needles to say the outfit didn’t last long after the meeting was over 💔💔 Both of you had enough of the shameless stares and feather-like touches you’ve sent each others way.

You needed her bad, and from how her ears twitch at the next words that leave your mouth, you can tell she needed you more.

Next thing you know, your clothes are discarded as she bends you over on her desk. she grinds herself into you and you can hear her grunts as she tries to cover up her whimpers.

She wants you so bad and who are you to deny??

She is your big strong General of the Yaoqing after all <<33

She makes you take her strap. Every single centimeter. You try your best to take it all, just as she asks of you, albeit struggling. She praises you for sucking all of her inside and you could’ve came then.

She repeatedly hits that delicate spot inside your cunt, making you see stars and writhe underneath her. You’re just so perfect for her, no?

By the end of the night the two of you are sweaty and mushed up against each other. Basking in your lovers arms while your cares melt away.

The two of you wouldn’t have it any other way 💜💜

——————————————————————————

hi guys it was pretty fire to write this!! this was fun just rambling about stuff! I think I’m gonna make a request list of characters I’d be down to talk/write abt!! send me ideas for stuff to answer for fun!

#wlw #lesbian #sigh #wlw fanfic #honkai star rail #hsr #can they strap me #fanfic #syd.fr.thoughts #hsr smut #smut #hsr women x reader #feixiao x reader #feixiao #sapphic

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months ago

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Honeymoon Suite

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Batman sends you and Dick undercover as newlyweds. At the end of the mission, neither of you want things to change.

Warnings: fluff, possible OOC, brief mentions of insecurity, reader wears a bikini once

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: Reader is a vigilante but there's no fight scenes or anything, it's more just gathering data for Bruce! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think or if you have any DC requests! :)

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

This isn't necessarily Titans!Dick, I just like this gif!

“Since when do you investigate recently paroled convicts?” you ask, looking out over Metropolis. “This seems like more of Clark’s thing. Literally, journalist Clark could do this far easier.”

Bruce sighs, and you smile. You can exhaust him from miles away.

“Because he started in Gotham, and I want to make sure he doesn’t come back,” Bruce answers.

“And I’m still in sunny Superman-city, why? Our boy bought a plane ticket three hours ago.”

“Until he goes to the airport, I want your eyes on him.”

“And then what? He disappears, free to con people who don’t have a Batman?”

“You do it on purpose,” Bruce accuses. “If you’re done asking questions, I’ve got news.”

“Also Clark’s thing,” you quip.

“Never mind. You can stay in Metropolis.”

“You love me, Bats. I’ll stop; tell me.”

“Against our better judgment, we all do.”

You smile, remembering the first night you put on a mask and took to the streets of Gotham. One of your best friends had been permanently altered by Scarecrow toxin, and you were done being scared in your own home. The same week, before you really grasped just how dangerous what you were doing could be, you ran into Robin. Batman wasn’t with him, but you soon met him, too. Robin was your age, reckless, and had a heart-stopping smile, so when he asked you to stay with him, you agreed. Batman reluctantly agreed, likely more interested in getting you off the streets than anything. After a few months, Dick trusted you enough to remove his domino mask, and Bruce sighed as he followed suit. Your relationship with Dick, both in and out of the Robin suit, made you part of two families: The Waynes and the Bats and Birds of Gotham. Every new addition to the family and the team pushed you and Dick closer, and you know what your feelings toward him are, but you have to remind yourself daily that losing him isn’t worth getting it off your chest.

“Still there?” Batman asks.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here,” you answer quickly, standing as you watch the sun go down.

“There’s going to be a slight detour on your way back.”

“Just tell me it’s somewhere warmer than Gotham,” you joke.

“Much. Nightwing – Dick – will meet you at the airport.”

You want to laugh at the strain in his voice as he says Dick’s name, but your attention catches on another word.

“Airport?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Welcome to paradise, babe,” Dick greets, pulling you into a warm hug as you walk through the airport doors.

“Thanks,” you murmur, closing your eyes and letting him envelop you completely.

He keeps an arm over your shoulders, leading you to an expensive rental car. After tossing your small bag in the back, he holds your hand over the console, looking into your eyes and smiling.

“I have a question,” he begins. You nod, and Dick’s smile grows. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen as you tell yourself that it’s for the mission.

“A thousand times yes,” you answer, watching Dick slide the ring onto your left ring finger.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your hand remains in Dick’s as he begins driving, your dream life with him coming to life around you.

“I checked in when I got here this morning. The honeymoon suite is nice,” Dick says distractedly.

“Honeymoon suite?” you repeat.

Dick hums, and you lower your gaze from his profile to the ring on your finger. It’s going to be a long few days.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your suitcase is in the closet,” Dick says, leading you into the small cottage with a hand on your back. He sees your confused look and laughs. “I packed a few things for you, I didn’t think you’d have beachwear with you in Metropolis.”

“Thank you.”

Dick lays back on the bed, propping his head up on his hands as he watches you open the closet.

“There’s a white bikini in there that I’m pretty proud of. I think it’s a better choice than you would have made.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the beachy pastels, sundresses, and swimsuits filling the bag. Dick chose things you have always wanted to wear but never felt good enough to buy for yourself. Losing your focus, you finger through the different fabrics, jumping slightly when Dick’s arms wrap around your waist.

“We have dinner reservations tonight, so pick a good one,” he whispers.

“Looks like they’re all good ones.”

“I have excellent taste,” Dick replies with an absent-minded tap to your wedding ring.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good evening,” Dick greets the couple sharing a table with you. He pulls your seat out, keeping his hand in yours as he sits beside you.

“My, you two are just the most handsome couple I’ve ever seen,” the woman exclaims, leaning toward you. “You picked a fine one, didn’t you, dear?”

You glance over at Dick and smile. “I sure did.”

Dick’s thumb runs over your knuckles, and you let yourself go in the act. Losing yourself, you adopt this character of being a wife to the man you’ve loved for years.

As you eat and talk to the other couples celebrating engagements, weddings, and anniversaries, you lean against Dick’s side, playing with his fingers. After one particularly romantic comment about your eyes, you raise Dick’s hand to your lips, kissing the knuckle below his ring. He turns toward you with a big smile, pecking your forehead before pulling you closer. You could get used to this, which is incompatible with an undercover mission.

✯✯✯✯✯

The proximity is killing you. Dick is so close that you could touch him, and you do, but you try to show some restraint. You set boundaries long ago, including one stating that you would never kiss one another purely for Batman’s never-ending mission. Your firm position on that boundary wavers more with each moment. This island is doing something to you, and you’re terrified that it will ruin your relationship with Dick.

Every time Dick smiles at you or takes your hand, running his finger over the fake ring on your hand, it’s like a glimpse straight out of your dream life. Right now, reclined on the beach in a bikini of Dick’s choosing, though, the dream falls apart.

“Dick,” you whisper, tapping your shoulder against his chest.

He pulls his hand away from your hair, a flower you didn’t see him pick braided into a small section of your hair.

“There’s our guy,” you mumble after he hums, pointing with your chin.

“He coming toward us?” Dick asks, running a sandy hand over your arm.

“Not right now. If he’s looking for the same kind of victim as in Gotham, we’re going to have to set a trap.”

��How?”

You turn toward him, frowning as you answer, “Get in a fight and let me storm off.”

Dick’s eyes drop away from yours before nodding. “Not yet,” he mumbles. “It has to look real.”

“Dinner?” you ask, brushing his hair back.

His eyes flutter closed as he nods, aware that the social setting will make enough of a scene. That doesn’t mean Dick wants to do it, though, nor is he sure about using you as bait.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do I look okay? This fits weird,” you complain, tugging the white sundress down on the sides.

Dick appears behind you, holding your wrists still as he meets your eyes in the mirror. He pulls your back to his chest, looping his arms over your waist.

“You look beautiful – you are beautiful,” Dick whispers. “So beautiful that I don’t know if I can yell at you.”

“We can change the plan. Pretend like we’ve been arguing all afternoon in private, and I can just choose a moment to storm off,” you offer.

“I don’t want to fight with you at all,” Dick amends.

“Hey.” You turn in his arms, looping yours over his shoulders. “This isn’t real, okay? I will never treat you like this.”

Dick nods, dropping his head to press his forehead against yours.

“Promise?”

You nod, dragging a finger along Dick’s jaw. “I promise.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah,” you mumble, fiddling with the napkin in your lap. “I got it earlier.”

Dick made a passing comment about working with others, glancing toward you at the end, and you took the opportunity to start a fight. The target, Bruce’s con man, is several tables away, but his eyes are on you. Dick’s eyes drop, and you desperately want to cup his chin and apologize.

“Working with women can be hard though,” someone says, continuing the conversation.

“It certainly can,” Dick agrees.

You stand up, silently tossing your napkin onto the table before you walk out. Navigating through the crowded tables, you take a deep breath when you exit and hear footsteps behind you.

“’Scuse me?” he asks.

You slow before you stop, turning toward him and wiping an imaginary tear.

“I’m sorry, I overheard and just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m a marriage counselor and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you here upset.”

“I’m fine, or I will be,” you answer, slightly impressed with how easily he slipped into the lie. “It’s just frustrating to be married, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so different.”

“Marriage counseling is a great option even for newly-weds. I actually have a pay by the appointment service here on the island, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, really? That- actually, yeah, that sounds amazing. What do I need to do?”

“$1,000 cash, up front, and then you can come by anytime.”

“Soliciting for a false business is illegal,” a resort security guard says as he approaches. “I’m going to need to take you to the office for questioning.”

“Really, me? Because her husband looks a lot like the Wayne kid from Gotham, not Gray Todd or whatever he said his name was,” the conman argues. “What about impersonation?”

Dick walks outside just as the security guard looks toward you.

“What’s going on out here?” Dick asks, laying his hand against the small of your back. “Are you okay?” he adds quietly.

You nod and press back against him gently. “This guy was trying to steal our money, apparently.”

“Someone called in a tip that he’s been posing as a marriage counselor,” the security guard fills in. “Though, do you folks have ID?”

Dick removes his fake ID from his wallet, and you’re surprised when he hands one over for you too.

“Your last names aren’t the same, are these up to date?”

“I haven’t gotten my updated license yet,” you answer. “We haven’t been married long.”

“Ask them questions separately and they won’t be able to answer. They’re the con artists, not me!” the conman cries.

“Maybe I should take you two in for questioning too.”

“On what grounds?” Dick asks with an incredulous chuckle. “What would I need to do to convince you we’re married? This is ridiculous!”

You glance over, and a crowd is gathering at the door, so you tap Dick’s side to alert him. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“I’d like to speak to your manager in the morning, but for now, are we free to go?”

The security guard also sees the crowd and hesitates before nodding. Dick leads you away and back toward the cottage but pulls you to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking over his face.

“People are still watching us and we need to keep this up or they won’t believe us,” Dick whispers.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Does it matter?”

“If they think we’re not really married, they can’t prove anything about our guy. Then we just look like we lied to get a nicer cottage.”

You nod and ask, “So what do we do to prove it?”

Your arms are around Dick, you’re as close as physically possible, so you’re not sure what else you can do to look like you’re in love. Especially considering you are in love with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before raising his hand to the back of your neck and kissing you.

He picks you up, a strong arm under your hips as he carries you up the stairs. You grip his shirt at the collar, returning the kiss but refusing to deepen it. As Dick unlocks the door, you drop your head to his shoulder and glance at the dissipating crowd, only a few people left who don’t mind imposing on a private moment.

Once you’re inside and Dick sets you down, he steps back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it was the one rule, but I didn’t know what else to do,” he rambles, carding his fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”

You hold a hand up to stop his pacing and shrug. “We had to. It’s fine.”

Dick nods, another whispered apology rolling off his tongue before he offers to let you use the bathroom first. When he steps back, that proximity you thought would break you is taken away, and you realize that is was holding you together all along.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk out of the bathroom, Dick is staring out the window. The dark beach holds his attention until he stands wordlessly. Then, when Dick returns from the shower, he doesn’t speak to you. Opening your mouth, you want to ask him something, say anything, but he sits at the far side of the king-sized bed and makes himself comfortable with his back to you.

The last few nights, you started on opposite sides of the bed but woke up with Dick’s arm over your waist and both of you in the middle. Those moments are being ripped away from you, though, and you’re not sure why. If it’s the kiss, you told him it was fine. Dick is usually the one ready and willing to talk about this kind of stuff, but he is shutting you out.

Hating the distance and craving his closeness, you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

The answer is barely audible, a sigh of, “Of course not.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief, moving your hand to the middle of the bed like an olive branch. “Then what happened? I’m really not mad about the kiss, Dick.”

Dick rolls over, his eyes bright in the minimal light of the cottage as he takes your hand (again). “I don’t want this to end,” he confesses.

After contemplating what this could mean, you whisper, “It doesn’t have to.”

Dick sits up, pulling you in, slow and methodical as he kisses you this time. As he pulls you into his lap, you enjoy knowing that there’s no rush or fear or lies behind this, just you, Dick, and the love between you.

“Maybe we should get married,” he mumbles against your lips. “Bruce will pay for a few more days.”

You pull back with a breathless laugh. “And listen to your brothers after they find out you eloped? No thanks.”

“So, you won’t marry me?” Dick asks, looking up at you perched on his legs.

“I’ll marry you as many times as you want, Dick Grayson.”

“Different honeymoon suite each time?” Dick jokes.

You duck your head against his chest as he laughs, gladly letting him hold you close for one more quiet, slow night before you return to Gotham.

“We need to pack, our flight is at 10,” you remind him.

“Don’t forget the white one,” he says against your cheek, leaving kisses along your face.

You are returning to Gotham with something far better than a new bikini or souvenir: Dick Grayson’s love running through your veins and your heart safely in his hold.

✯✯✯✯✯

Bonus:

"It worked, Alfred."

"Excellent news, Master Bruce. Perhaps you could be the next to go on a trip and come back with a woman in your life."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x fem!reader #dc comics x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fic #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson

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frogblast-the-ventcore · 3 months ago

Text

You love your drone, and your drone loves you.

Your drone is very cute, with the blank faceplate and cat like ears molded on the helmet. The latex outer covering, the cat like tail - good for holding onto when testing the ergonomics, and cute in general.

They have a number - every good drone does. You helped them pick it out before you put the helmet on them the first time - yes, they're human under there. They're your partner, they have a name, that you whisper to them to say you love them, before the drone programming takes over each time.

They want this. To turn off, tune out, and trust you. So you obliged. You bought the helmet, you both chose the number - 9647 was what you picked - and you put the helmet on their head for the first time. A minute later, your partner was put under, lolled into the proper space with their favorite music tuned just right, and 9647 was activated for the first time.

Neither you nor your partner wants them to be 9647 all the time. But you're always happy to help them put on the helmet and just... stop thinking for a while. Maybe they had a rough day. Maybe they just want some fun. Maybe they just want someone to do the thinking for a while.

Of course, you're a good... Master? Owner? User? You still aren't sure of the right term. Those all imply a relationship that's not entirely what you want out of it. You didn't purchase your lovely drone 9647 to be demanding. You don't order. You request. It's much more polite. They just want to serve, want to be something you can cuddle on cold nights and fuck your frustrations into - not that you impose on your drone, you aren't THAT sort of owner, nor do you want a drone that's utterly passive.

After all, they can't be a good combat drone bodyguard by being passive, now can they? That sort of drone needs a protective quality. Good judgment to know when to deploy the nano-constructed weapons from their arms and when not to.

Your drone is a sapient being. 9647 always, ALWAYS has a choice, at least with physical things. It's always your partner's choice to drone out and become 9647. And you're happy to be able to give them that choice. Because you love them, no matter if they're your partner at the moment, or if 9647 is active. Because they're both, and you love both. 9647 is like ... an alter ego, a secret identity. You just get to be the incredibly lucky partner that knows the secret. That knows the phrases that make 9647 listen. Not obey unquestioningly, but listen.

And you alone get to know where the helmet is. Where the tool that gives them the thing they desire is. You get to be the one they trust to be a good user, to keep them safe, to pull them out occasionally and make sure everything is still okay.

And then you both smile, and they go back under. You'll deactivate 9647 later. Maybe before bed, maybe after the sex, maybe in the morning.

You love your drone, and your drone loves you.

#dronification #drone kink #willing drone #willing dronification #consent is key

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urmomschocolatemilk · 2 months ago

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Simon Riley x Alternative!fem!reader

I went thrifting td with a friend and got this idea. Reminder that my inbox is open ghost headcanons and requests

If there was one thing Simon knew about you from the moment the two of you met, it was that you loved to sew. Almost every piece of clothing you owned was handmade or altered. You’d cut up shirts, using the lace or frill at the top and add it to another piece of clothing. You’d tailor dresses and shirts for your friends and family and always patch up Simon's on base uniform.

You weren't sure what made sitting in front of the sewing machine, eyes trained on a certain strip of whatever you were working on that was so therapeutic but it was. Not only was it that you loved the art of sewing, but in-store brands never seemed to have something you liked, or fit your personal style, so being able to make your own clothing really came in handy.

Your birthday was coming around and Simon, being the best boyfriend he was, had already picked a restaurant and booked a reservation. What you didn't know however, was that he’d been learning to sew for the past couple of months because he wanted to make you a dress that you would absolutely adore. He knew nothing he could buy would cut it, and he also knew that you loved handmade gifts. So, he found that this was the perfect gift.

Now Simon knew what you liked about your clothes and what you didn't. For example, you didn't like light tones because you felt they highlighted any hyperpigmentation you had. Or that you didn't like to wear dresses with too high a slit on the side because you felt that it caused the fabric to fall weirdly around your legs.

Even with all this knowledge Simon didn't want to get it wrong. He wanted this gift to be perfect and as previously stated, something you’d adore. So, he stole your sketch book, which contained every preview of a design you’d created in the past year and flipped through it. Taking mental notes of each similarity and alteration.

The week after that Simon enrolled in a regularly scheduled sewing class to begin working on his project. Simon did feel out of place there, especially at the start. He was the only man there, let alone a 6’2 military buff, but the instructor didn't treat him any differently, and he didnt pay any mind to it either.

“You want this to be your first project?” the teacher asked when Simon first showed her the sketch. He nodded. “This is quite difficult for a beginner. You understand that, yes?”

Simon shrugged ‘It’s going to be a gift.”

Every week, twice a week Simon showed up to class. He never skipped a session. He needed this dress to be perfect. It took a month for him to get it looking decent, and then another half month to get it looking perfect. It seemed he was a fast learner.

Finally, he was able to take it home, and the first place it went was to the dry cleaners. He wasn't going to risk throwing his masterpiece, and more importantly, your gift, into the washing machine to get ruined. Then when he picked it up he folded it neatly and placed it in a gorgeous red velvet box he had bought.

Hiding it was easier than Simon had expected it to be, considering that you lived together and every part of the house was easily accessible to you. The only thing you didn't ever touch was his desk. So, he decided to keep it there, placing it at the bottom of the desk cabinet and neatly stacking some papers and folders around it to keep it concealed.

Finally, the day came around and you were just about ready to begin getting ready for dinner when he stopped you mid-way into the bathroom.

“I want to show you something,” Simon said, taking your hand and sitting you down on the bed. You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly concerned.

“Is everything okay?” You asked

“Just wait here,” he told you, walking swiftly out of the room and into his office. Simon rarely smiled, like really smiled, but when he came back into the room, red velvet box in hand his lips were turned up in subtle excitement.

“What's this?” you asked with a grin, taking the box from him and running your hand over the soft, plush exterior.

“Your birthday present," he answers. Simon is nervous as he watches you lift the lid, placing it gently next to you and taking out the soft fabric in the box. Your lips part in awe as you realize what it is, and you pinch it at the top, holding it out in front of you and letting it unravel itself. He watches as your eyes glaze over it slowly, taking in every detail. You love it.

“Where did you get this?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the beautiful piece of fabric. He swears he can see your eyes glittering in the light as you look at the dress.

“I made it.” He states. You’re already smiling, but when you hear his answer, your smile widens. You look beautiful, he thinks.

“You made this?” You repeat excitedly, your head turning to look up at him. He nodded. “This is gorgeous baby!” You were so touched by the length and effort he had put into something for you. You knew he didn't know how to sew so the fact that he learned to and took the time to learn what you liked and didn't like made your heart bloom with adoration.

“You like it lovie’?” he asked. You nodded profusely, setting the dress aside as you stood and threw your arms around him. Pressing a kiss to his lips you answered.

“I love it.”

#urmomschocolatemilk #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #141 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #fluff #simon riley headcanons #simon riley #ghost headcanons #ghost call of duty #alternative #alternative!reader #cod x reader #x reader

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year ago

Text

don't give up on me.

Regulus Black x F!Reader

Summary: You're sick. Regulus knows that. But how can he convince you that you're worth saving?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: IN DEPTH DISCUSSIONS OF EDS, WEIGHT LOSS, THROWING UP, FAINTING, HOSPITAL WING VISITS, ANY AND ALL ED-RELATED WARNINGS

AN: If this kind of content is triggering for you, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING!!! nothing is more important to me than y'all keeping yourselves healthy - both mentally and physically! If this shit helps you then, here ya go :) (P.S. the summary is really bad sorry!!)

You ran back to the dorms, promising Pandora that you'd be back before breakfast. Lie.

Every day was pretty much the same: you weighed yourself on the muggle scale that you'd snuck into your bags behind your dad's back, and then based on that number, you'd eat. Or you wouldn't. It was easy to miss mealtimes - you'd make the excuse of needing to finish some homework or having forgotten something in the dorms. If you went to the hall during mealtimes, you'd put a little food on your plate and push it around to make it seem like you'd eaten loads when you hadn't touched anything at all.

If the number on the scale weren't acceptable to some extreme standard you'd set yourself to, then you'd spiral - only small amounts of food, you'd go on a run before dinner (strategically showing up late enough that there wouldn't be much left), calling yourself the worst names in the mirror.

It was a routine that you hated - you wanted to kick it, but you couldn't. It was a safety net. You needed control, and this was the only way to have it. It was your drug and you were dependent on it.

It had started as a need to look better, more like your sister. She was taller, skinnier, better at everything she did. You wanted that. So you started skipping meals, spending more time doing workouts - you'd bought one of those muggle aerobics DVDs, and you'd follow it almost every day. You lost a few kilograms in the first few weeks of summer, and the pride of achieving your goal outweighed the hunger pains and headaches. Your weight became an obsession to you and you weighed yourself after every meal and in the morning and night, and your diet to become healthier quickly became a desire to be smaller.

It didn't help that you remained invisible to everyone except your few Hogwarts friends. They owled you frequently, begging you to come up to London so you could spend time together, but you lived too far away for that to be possible. Your dad was busy all the time - it wasn't easy for him after the divorce - and your sister was busy with all her friends. They didn't like you very much, finding you odd as you went to school so far away. They left you alone for the most part - you only saw them when your sister agreed to drive you somewhere.

Not eating became natural after a while: the hunger pains stopped being painful, the headaches disappeared, and the desire to eat had all but disappeared. No one really noticed - you were pretty good at hiding your tricks - but your quickly shrinking body was noticeable. Your dad brought it up once, worried about how your clothes looked so big on your body: he offered to drive you to the doctors, wondering if being a wizard meant that you were more prone to getting sick. You shook your head, telling him that you were fine, but you made a mental reminder to buy much baggier clothes to hide the weight loss.

After that, you quickly went from loving your new body to despising it. You hid every inch of your skin even in the height of summer - hiding under baggy clothes, blankets, and behind pillows. You shoved your mirror to the back of your wardrobe.

By the time you went back to Hogwarts in September, your robes were far too big for you. You'd altered them sneakily: you kept the robes you had but they rested on your body better.

You'd avoided hugs from your friends, lying about an injured arm, but you'd happily reunited with them on the Hogwarts express. They all commented on how they were loving your new look - you smiled sadly at the reason. You remember getting off the train onto the platform - Regulus had helped you down from the train, gripping your hand tightly as you stepped off. As your friends dragged you away, you'd looked back at him. He'd looked almost concerned.

You came back to the Great Hall halfway through breakfast. You sat down with your friend, adjusting your collar where it was rubbing against your neck. You felt uncomfortable, almost like there was an emptiness in the back of your mind.

Pandora caught your eyes mouthing, are you ok? You nodded in response. You grabbed a glass of water and some fruit. Your throat was so dry and every single movement made you nauseous. It's fine, you told yourself, you can run it off before Charms. You're fine.

You were lying to yourself. You weren't okay, you had a problem and you knew it. But you couldn't pluck up the courage to go to Madam Pomfrey and get help. This was comfortable. You never wanted to go back to the way it was before - constantly hating your body for the way it looked in clothing, jealous of what others looked like. You'd take a few bad days like this over that.

You yawned. You were exhausted but your sleep wasn't restful or comfortable. Some parts of your body would always be sore when you woke up.

You felt someone move to sit next to you, and before you could turn to see who it was, they grabbed the apple out of your hand. You turned to protest, before seeing Regulus' pointed look and the knife in his hand. He began to cut up small slices and feed them to you, not giving you time to protest until the apple was finished and entirely consumed.

"Get a room lovebirds, someone from down the table called, but Regulus was quick to shoot them the finger. You smiled at that and Regulus let out a breath at the sight of it.

"It's nice to see you smile, canari. You don't seem to do it as much anymore," He said lowly, making sure his voice was only for you.

You pat his shoulder to reassure him, trying to hide your panicked mind behind gentle touches. He smiled at you before standing up to leave. He offered you a hand, which you gratefully took, and you both headed towards Defense Against the Dark Arts - your first lesson of the day.

That night, you had been planning on skipping dinner. You had convinced Pandora and Barty that you had an essay for Professor McGonagall that you hadn't even started, and they had believed you. They left you in the common room, promising to bring back one of your favourites - a Pumpkin Pasty. All was well.

You slipped out of your dorm room and down the stairs to the front door, heading out for a quick run.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice cut through the cool air. You shut your eyes. Busted.

Regulus walked up to you, raising his eyebrows and waiting for an answer. "Tell me, Reggie, does growing up rich make you so entitled or are you just naturally a pompous ass?"

He laughed, throwing his head back, and grabbing your hand, "I'm going to let it go because you haven't eaten anything and you're probably hangry." He dragged you down to the Great Hall, even as you dragged your feet.

He pulled you in and sat you down by his side, piling your plate high with all the foods he knew were your favourite. If your anxiety wasn't spiraling, you would be touched that Regulus knew exactly what you liked and what you didn't.

People were sat all around the table, making small talk and eating. You took deep breaths as nonchalantly as you could, cutting up the food Regulus had piled on your plate. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem - you’d have a few days of no one noticing you skipping meals, then you could comfortably eat dinner with no worries. You could prepare for that. But, after breakfast this morning was sprung on you, you didn’t think you should be eating this soon. I mean you had only just run off the apple you had for breakfast. How were you going to keep your weight down if you were gorging yourself on the most unhealthy food every minute of every day.

You tried to join in with the conversation every so often, pushing things around on your plate as you did so. You thought you were hiding it well, but you caught Regulus glancing at you in concern, every time you finished speaking.

Catching onto this habit, you worriedly stood up, grabbing your things and getting ready to go.

“Leaving again so early?” Barty asked, grabbing your wrist. He looked at the wrist almost concerned but you tugged your hand away. You looked around the table before your eyes landed on Regulus, concern filling his face.

You swallowed nervously, “Yeah, I'm going to head up to bed. Goodnight,” You stepped over the bench and left through one of the back doors. Regulus watched you leave. Something didn’t sit right with him.

As soon as you rounded the corner, you picked up the pace almost breaking into a jog. You made it down the stairs to the Slytherin common room, heart pounding in your chest and nearly threw yourself up the stairs to your dorm. You closed the door and locked yourself in the bathroom. You were usually methodical about this process, you had a system. But you were desperate at this point. You tied your hair up messily and filled up a hidden water bottle at the sink before chugging it and turning to the toilet.

Back in the Great Hall, Regulus decided that he was going to go check on you. He excused himself and bid everyone a good night - just like you had - before heading in the direction of the Slytherin dorm.

You were bent over the toilet, retching. You hated this so much. It didn’t feel good - it almost hurt - but you felt so relieved doing it. You couldn’t explain it. It was somehow the one thing that helped you feel better.

Regulus quickly made his way up the stairs to face your dorm. The stairs were enchanted to stop the boys from climbing up them, but Regulus was able to jump and skip a few steps to make it to the top. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to you. Not now.

Regulus knocked on your dorm door, to which he was met with silence. You couldn’t hear him. Not liking the feeling in his gut, he slowly pushed the door open. To his surprise, you weren’t there.

From the bathroom, he heard the faint sound of someone retching. Regulus furrowed his brows. You hadn't seemed sick this morning. Why didn’t you say something? You were going to go on a walk, for Merlin's sake! Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to the door. That was definitely you retching. He knocked. You froze.

“Canari? Are you okay in there?” He asked, leaning against the door.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up, quickly flushing the toilet and washing your hands.

"Canari?"

You splashed your face with water before replying, “I’m fine, Reg.” You cursed yourself for the wavering in your voice.

You turned to the mirror - you were a mess, your tear-streaked face red and splotchy. You washed your face, trying to get rid of as much inflammation as you could.

You took a deep breath and leaned against the sink. How could you have been so stupid? How were you going to talk yourself out of this?

“Can you open the door, please?” Regulus said. He was half intending to break the door down, but he wouldn't violate you like that.

You sighed and opened the door with your head down. You tried to walk past Regulus, but he gently pulled you towards him, your head resting just over his heart. His finger tilted your face upwards, his eyes widening at your red eyes and face.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” he asked.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You tried to pry yourself away from him, but he wasn't letting you go so easily.

“You’re not fine if you’re throwing up. What's really going on?”

“It’s nothing. I had a stomach bug over the summer. Sometimes it acts up a little. It's fine. I'm fine.” you affirmed. Your solidness was almost more to convince yourself than him.

One look at Regulus told you he was not convinced. He pulled you back into his chest. "You sure that's all it is? You'll tell me if it gets worse?"

"Yeah, Reg, I'll tell you if it gets worse. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"It's okay, Canari. As long as you are okay, it's okay."

You managed to avoid any more confrontations until Christmas. You decided to stay at school over the Christmas holidays, like you usually did, which meant no friends to worry about your ever-growing problem.

You woke up to a dry throat and a pounding headache. The usual. You coaxed your body into slumping out of bed and you brushed your teeth. God, you looked a mess. The dark circles under your eyes were prominent and your face was pale and gaunt. You almost looked like a skeleton.

The sun was pretty high in the sky - it was probably almost afternoon. Shit. How could you have slept half the day away? It's fine you'll just have to stay up later tonight to finish all your essays. You walked out into the dorm to be greeted with 4 other empty beds - everyone else had gone home for the holidays. You figured it was probably safer to stay at school than to go home looking so terrible.

Begrudgingly, you pulled on a pair of jeans and a Slytherin sweater you were almost sure wasn't yours, and slipped down to the common room. You'd left an essay for Professor Binns in front of the fireplace - you had rushed to the bathroom after Barty had practically force-fed you a few. You'd blamed it on the fact you got a dog food-flavoured one (you didn't - it was chocolate brownie, which was almost worse), but the side-long glance Regulus had given you made you retreat into your dorm room for the rest of the night.

Still, you needed to finish that essay and you headed down the steps, pausing halfway down to calm your racing heart. The common room was cold and empty - it usually was in the winter, given that most Slytherin students went home for the break. You shivered violently - the cold that nestled into your bones in early October had refused to leave. Now, without at least a jumper or two under your robes, you were constantly shivering.

You glanced at all the tables - there was no parchment or quills. There was no one still here that would want to steal your essay or your quills, so you were surprised to see all your stuff gone and the common room completely clean. You searched everywhere in case the house elves had moved it while cleaning, but you couldn't find it anywhere.

Tears started brimming in your eyes knowing that those were the only quills you had and there wasn't much chance that you could afford to buy a whole set of new ones and finish your essay before Christmas day.

"Good morning, Canari." You whirled around to see Regulus standing behind you, his obsidian-black suit perfectly ironed and immaculately clean. His hair was perfectly coiffed - as it usually was - and his face clean of the stubble you knew that he was able to grow. Not a hair out of place. Never a hair out of place. Why couldn't you be more like Regulus - perfect without trying. Skinny and pretty and fun to be around. Not always worrying about if you were trying too hard.

A lone tear slipped out of your eye and down your face. Regulus was there in an instant, his hands grasping your face, thumbs wiping away any tears.

"What's wrong, Canari? Why are you crying?" Regulus said, pulling you into his chest. You felt him stiffen against you, his fingers running over your protruding spine. But you nestled into his warmth, the chill in your bones just barely sated by his heat.

You looked up into his eyes, sniffling, "Someone took all my stuff."

"What?"

"I forgot my stuff down here last night - my essay for Binns and all my quills were on the table, but now they're gone," your breathing picked up as you began to panic, "And I can't afford to buy a whole new pack of quills, which means that I won't be able to finish any of my other essays and Professor McGona-"

"Canari. I have your stuff." Regulus interrupted, his arms running up and down your back, "It's okay. I took it to my dorm before I went to bed. Here." Regulus led you to the staircase leading up to his dorm and made you wait as he dashed upstairs and got your things. He handed them to you in a neat pile before leading you back to your dorm with his hand on your lower back. "Put your stuff away and then come down with me. Let's eat breakfast together."

Alarm bells started ringing in your head. Eat? Now? With so much to do? How could you waste your time? But you couldn't make Regulus more suspicious of your behaviour.

You head down to the Great Hall with him, pulling at your sleeves as he placed all manner of pies and treats on your plate. You felt nauseated by the smell alone.

It didn't skip your notice how Regulus looked at you as if you were going to break at any second. Hell, he probably thought you already had.

You turned the corner off the path to head into the Forbidden Forest. If any of the Professors found you out here they'd give you a detention. That coincidentally would mean that you missed dinner. Two birds, one stone.

You set off on your run, keeping to the border of the forbidden forest, but deep enough in that no one would be able to see you without looking. You kept a steady pace - you were used to this routine. If you overate, you'd run until you felt exhausted and then you'd slip back into the dorm and skip dinner.

Except the snow was never normally this heavy and with every breath you exhaled a puff of smoke left your lungs. The inhales were almost painful, the cold air rough on your fragile lungs. You could hear your heart pounding in your head and your ears were starting to ring but you ploughed on.

What a mistake that was. You feel your foot slipping before you can even grab onto something. The next thing you know everything was black.

Regulus was worried. He'd paid close attention to your ever-deteriorating health, and he was worried, to say the least. After you'd run from lunch with him and Barty, he'd followed you back to the dorm. You hadn't even noticed him trailing you as you almost ran back to the common room. You'd slammed your dorm door shut and hadn't left for hours. You'd finally left when you thought no one was in the common room, dressed in some sweatpants and a jumper that was far too thin for this ghastly weather. He'd grabbed his own coat and a spare jacket for you, before following you through the hallways. He'd contemplated calling your name once, but clearly, there was something going on. And Regulus wanted to know what.

You'd slipped out of one of the doors to the courtyard and set off on a light jog down toward Hagrid's hut. That's odd, Regulus thought, you didn't have detention. Of course, it didn't pass his mind that you may just be running. After all, who would willingly go on a run in the middle of December in Scotland. Still, he watched as you ran down the steps that led to the now frost-covered pumpkin patches. Maybe you needed to collect something from him, he thought. Yes, that's probably it. Far more likely than Miss 'golden-girl' having a detention. Professor Kettleburn probably needed something and sent you to go get it.

His confusion only multiplied when you bypassed Hagrid's hut and disappeared into the thicket of the Forbidden Forest. Regulus picked up his pace, making sure that he wasn't caught as he followed your footsteps. He tried to keep up but you were always a faster runner than him, always making it to class on time even if you were both running late. He quickly lost you, having to resort to tracking your footsteps through the deep snow. He was ever more confused as to why you were out here - if anyone caught you here, you'd have a month's worth of evening detentions. Not the best way to start the year.

When he finally caught up to you, his heart dropped to his feet. You were lying face down in the snow, clothing soaked through. He knelt beside you, his hands running over your face as he softly called your name. Your skin was cold to the touch, causing Regulus to panic. He quickly bundled you up in the spare coat he brought with him. He removed the scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around yours, before tucking your hands into the pocket of the jacket.

He hoisted you up in his arms, wrapping his arms securely under your body. He slowly started walking back to the castle, being careful to avoid anyone seeing him leave the Forbidden Forest - the last thing he needed was the both of you getting in more trouble. He carried you through the hallways to the hospital wing, rapping his knuckles sharply against the window while you remained unconscious in his arms.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to open the door and, at the sight of your unconscious body, ushered you both inside, helping Regulus to lay you on one of the free beds. She laid a thick blanket over you and dug out a heating potion to dispel the chill from your bones. Regulus just sat by your side and held your hand. It was ice-cold as usual, but somehow Regulus never wanted to let go.

"...Mr. Black?" Madam Pomfrey asked, but Regulus had missed the question while he was staring at you. He looked up at her questioningly, silently asking her to repeat the question, "I said, will you get some dry clothes for her? I trust that you have something you can give her."

Regulus nodded dumbly, leaving the hospital wing before breaking into a run. He ran upstairs and pulled a sweater and some sweatpants for you. They would be big on you but hopefully, they would keep you from getting too cold. His heart was pounding as he returned to the hospital wing.

He diligently gave the jumper and sweatpants to Madam Pomfrey, before turning around so she could change your clothes modestly. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, he wanted to tell Madam Pomfrey, but somehow he was sure that she wouldn't appreciate that sentiment.

Once she was done and you were nestled under two layers of blankets and in clean clothes, Madam Pomfrey turned back to Regulus.

"Mr. Black, I'm going to have to collect a report from this accident from you, if you would so oblige."

"Uhh, of course, yeah. Um, well," Regulus prided himself on being a good liar, but under so much pressure, not so much. "We found a - uh - salamander on the fifth floor by the library when we were studying there earlier. She said she'd go tell Hagrid so she headed down to his hut. I wanted to find her to finish my essay before dinner so I headed down to see Hagrid, but then I found her lying in the snow."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "Did Hagrid find out about the Salamander?"

Regulus nodded, "Yeah, one of the third years told him. I heard them talking about it while I was looking for her." It wasn't a total lie. Two third years had found a Salamander by the fifth-floor boys' toilets. They'd told Hagrid, and Regulus had overheard them talking about it.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, sealing away the report and filing it away. Regulus stood up to go back to the common room when Madam Pomfrey stopped him.

"She's incredibly thin, Mr. Black. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Regulus shook his head, "It's worrying how underweight she is. You haven't noticed anything? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Regulus shook his head again before turning around to leave the hospital wing. He knew something was wrong. He just didn't know what.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you could feel was heat. You were warm. After months of being on the edge of freezing all the time, it was nice.

The second thing you noticed was the smell of cologne. A familiar cologne. Regulus' cologne. It was an expensive one - the Black family was rich and they weren't scared to show it off.

You opened your eyes slowly, grateful for the darkness. You looked towards the window to see that it was nighttime. You furrowed your brow in confusion. You could have sworn that it was just past lunch. You pushed yourself up further only to realise that you were in the hospital wing.

Before you could push yourself up even further, a voice interrupted you, "And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" Madam Pomfrey walked up to you with a glass of pumpkin juice in hand and two tablets. "You're dehydrated. And possibly have a concussion. You should be glad Mr. Black found you when he did."

Regulus found me? How the hell did he know where I was?

You took the pills from her hand and swallowed them down quickly. You savoured the taste of the Pumpkin Juice - it had been so long since you'd had the calorie-filled drink.

You turned to the door just in time to see Regulus walk in. It was as if he had exhaled for the first time seeing you awake. His shoulders dropped, his chest relaxed and all the tension in his face melted away.

He sat by your side gently, letting you finish the juice. Madam Pomfrey spoke up again, "Now, young lady, do you want to explain that nasty little fainting spell?" She said, her eyebrows raised as she scrutinised you.

"Uhh, well - I was - uh - walking down to Hagrid's hut, and - uh - my ears started ringing, and I think I fell." You said, your voice hoarse from disuse.

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that you are underweight?" Madam Pomfrey pressed.

"I've just been nauseous the last few days." You lied quickly, slightly recoiling under her heavy words, "I think it's stress but it might be a bug. I remember Pandora complaining about her stomach the night before she went home."

Madam Pomfrey seemed convinced. Regulus less so. As soon as Madam Pomfrey left, he turned to you.

"You lied." You shifted nervously under his intense gaze.

"I didn't. I have been nauseous all week."

"If you were nauseous, why were you on a run?"

"I thought the fresh air might help."

"Fresh air in the Forbidden Forest? Bullshit." Your heart dropped. He'd followed you there.

"Why did you follow me?"

"Why were you there alone? If I hadn't followed you and you'd fainted, you would have been dead by the time anyone found you."

"Oh, so I guess that means I should thank you now, should I? Oh, thank His Lordship, Mr. Black for saving my life, even thOUGH NO ONE ASKED HIM TOO!" You exclaimed, seething. You threw his hands off you and tried to push him away but he refused to budge.

"Stop being difficult," Regulus said, pulling the blankets back over your frail body.

"OH I'M BEING DIFF-"

"JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH!" He interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with fury. You could just about pick out the lingering concern that was embedded in his gaze. You saw red.

"GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" You pushed Regulus away with every ounce of strength in your body. He fell off the chair, crashing to the ground in an undignified heap.

You watched, in horror at what you'd done, as he walked over to the door. He cast you a longing glance as he left, almost as if he was begging you, pleading you to let him in, to not shut him out. To let him help you.

You sighed. You weren't sure if you could be helped.

On Christmas Eve, Madam Pomfrey let you go back to your own bed, with the promise that you'd visit her every day so she could check up on you. Regulus hadn't visited since you told him to leave, and a small part of you was glad that he hadn't. The rest of you had missed him dearly.

You felt him walk up to you as you lounged on one of the sofas in front of the fire.

"Room for one more?" He asked hesitantly, standing in front of you. You shuffled to the edge of the sofa to give him room to sit down.

"So how are you?" He said, hands toying with his wand as he tried to avoid staring at you.

"We don't have to do this, Reg. Can we just let it go?" You sighed, hoping that you didn't have to get into this conversation right now.

"Yes, we do. Tell me, Canari, are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Reg." You both sat in awkward silence, not exactly knowing how to approach this conversation. "I'm gonna - uh - go. Now. Uh - bye."

You stood up, trying to escape into your dorm room, but Regulus beat you to it - blocking you with his body. It wasn't fair that he was almost a whole head taller than you.

"No, what's going on? Are you sick?" Regulus insisted, hands coming up to brush your arms. You shuddered at the gentle touch, but he still didn't pull away.

“Reg-”

“Canari.” he insisted. "Don't lie to me."

You took a deep breath. "I'm sick," you whispered quietly, but loud enough for Regulus to hear it.

He shifted on his feet, “What do you mean?”

You looked at him, noting the tears building up on his lash line. Regulus never cried. More than once, Barty had joked that the 'snowman didn't have a heart'. You shook your head, "It won’t make sense."

"Then help me understand."

You took a few breaths, trying to get your thoughts in order. Regulus led you back to the couch, his large warm hands covering your cold frail ones. You tried to get your thoughts in order, tried to figure out where to start. Well, it's probably best to start at the beginning. “I don’t know what happened. I was just supposed to lose a little weight. I started eating less, doing some muggle workouts. And it worked. But now - now, now I just can't stop." you finished.

Regulus' face contorted to one of concern. You avoided his gaze, your eyes filled with tears at finally revealing your secret. Regulus pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. You nestled into them, your head of his heart as sobs started to wrack your body. Regulus held you tightly, whispering that it would be okay. He breathed deeply and steadily, hoping you would fall into rhythm with him.

Eventually, your heaving breaths slowed, and you began to calm down. After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked “How long has this been going on?”

"Since the summer break. But I think the problem's been going on a lot longer than that." You whispered into his chest, defeated.

Regulus took a deep breath, his mind relaying all the suspicious behaviour he'd picked up on over the past term. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

You shrugged weakly, "It wasn’t your problem."

You jostled in his lap as he turned you to face him. "Canari. Your problems are my problems. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm here? Because I want to be here. For you. I want to help, Canari. Please." You avoided his gaze because you knew what you'd find. Genuine concern. Something you weren't sure if you deserved. "You always help me or anyone else whenever we need it. Remember when Pandora had those nightmares for months and every night you'd hold her hand until she fell asleep? Or when Barty told us that he was afraid of the dark so you gave him an enchanted tea candle that would never go out? Hmm? If we were going through this, wouldn’t you want to help us?"

"Of course, I would," you said firmly, tears building up in your eyes again. You rubbed the way with the corner of your sleeve, but Regulus caught your hand.

"So why can’t you let me help you the same way?" he asked, his eyes shining with sincerity.

You shook your head lightly, "It’s not that simple, Reg."

"Why?"

"Because.”

"Because what?"

"It's just not the same," you said a little louder, pushing yourself off his lap. You had to put a distance between him and yourself, or you knew that you would break. You turned around heading in any direction that was not here, not in front of the only man capable of reducing you to tears.

"I don't get it. What’s the difference between me and you? Why can’t you-"

“Because I don’t HATE you!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him again. The pain in your eyes was evident as you tried to shrink further into yourself. Regulus was up in an instant, cradling your head in his hands as if you were a porcelain doll. You took a shuddering breath, "It’s not the same thing because I don’t hate you. I want to help you all, because you are good people, and I like you."

Tears streamed down your face as the confession spilled from your lips. You told him about everything, the loneliness, the self-loathing, the punishments, everything. Regulus stood there as you sobbed in his arms and confessed to him, taking every beating and tucking it away in the corner of his frozen heart that was reserved for you.

When you had finally settled, Regulus looked at you sadly. His gaze was heavy as if he was trying to see if there were any other secrets you were hiding. "Is that really how you feel about yourself?" he asked, saddened even more when you began nodding. "What did you do that was so wrong?"

You didn’t know. The loneliness that had plagued your childhood had melted into the insecurity that you didn't belong anywhere, and you never would. So slowly, you accepted that you never would. Your voice was weak when you spoke up again, "I'm sick, Reg. I know that. But I don't think this kind of sick can be healed by one of Madam Pomfrey's potions. People catch colds or break bones - those can be fixed. And once it's fixed, it won’t bother them again. But this," you gestured your body repeatedly, "this I don’t know if I fix. I don’t know how, I don’t know where to start. It’s me against me. It's a losing game. I’m not the kind of sick that gets better, Reg," you shrugged slightly and shook your head.

Regulus wrapped his arms around you tighter, "There's always a cure."

"Not for me."

"No. You're not giving up. YOU CAN'T FUCKING GIVE UP WHEN YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TRIED TO GET BETTER!" Regulus wasn't one to lose composure ever. In fact, Regulus wasn't one to show much emotion at all, but here he was, crying and yelling over you. Trying to convince you to get better. He tucked his chest into you, whispering, "Please. Please, you can't- you can't leave me here. Not alone, please, Canari."

You rested your face on his head, your cheek pressed against his beautiful curly hair. You stayed like that, you pulled into his lap, his head cocooned into your chest, your head laying on the top of his head. Both of you expended every last tear in your body before he spoke up again.

“Can I try to help?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean you want to get better? Right?" Regulus removed himself from your chest and looked into your eyes. His hands traveled to rest on your face. You nodded. "You can always talk to me about anything," You avoided his gaze, "you know that right?"

At the uncertain look on your face, Regulus stiffened. You quickly spoke up, "It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, but-" You paused thinking how best to word this.

"Yes?"

"It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you," you said, your voice trailing off as you spoke. "I don’t want to fuck up and end up hurting you because I couldn’t be better. I don’t want you to worry every bloody day. You don't deserve that." you took a deep breath and looked away again. "I don’t want you to leave because I couldn’t be strong for you."

"Is that really what you think I would do?" Regulus asked, his tone growing angrier. You cowered under his anger, and Regulus noticed. He tried to level his breathing as he continued, "I would never be disappointed with you, because you're trying your best. You said it: you're sick. And sometimes it takes time to heal. And you're healing for you, so that you can have a happy life. A long life." He paused, considering whether to add this next part, "No matter whether that life has me in it."

You leaned into him again, his arms wrapping you into a tight hug. Your life would always have Regulus in it, no matter how long, short, sick, or healthy it would end up being. Regulus made you promise to go back to Madam Pomfrey in the morning to tell her the whole truth.

"Promise you will be there the whole time?" you asked softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, and exhaustion washed over you.

His arms tightened around you, "I promise. As long as you promise not to give up. Even when it gets hard."

You smiled your first proper smile in what felt like an age.

"I promise."

fin.

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