#stomping my feet angrily

[ledians]

im so sad im so sad im so sad i want a big supersized stuffed animal to hug but all my stuffies are small small small

[lemonlover1110]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi is insanely jealous of the new addition to the household.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealous!Megumi

*Didn't have anything bigger for Toji for father's day but I had to celebrate it one way or another sfjosjf. Enjoy my lovelies!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Papa, up!” Megumi yells, hoping to get his father’s attention when he sees Toji holding the new addition to the family. Megumi has reached the age where he claims to be independent, after all, four is such a big age. He’d cry if you or Toji held him, but he’s changed his mind.

“Your baby sister is crying, give me a minute.” Toji sounds annoyed, knowing that Megumi does it out of jealousy. Jealous of a baby that can’t even hold her own head, kids are so dumb. Megumi lets out a cry before yelling again,

“Papa, up!” He wants attention now. He doesn’t want to wait until Toji is done with some stinky baby. Toji lets out an exasperated sigh as tears begin to stream down Megumi’s face– Crocodile tears, but tears nonetheless. He extends his arms and opens and closes his tiny fists repeatedly, yelling, “Up!”

“Megumi, you don’t want to wake up mommy, do you?” Toji asks, trying his best to calm down the crying baby in his arms while also handling Megumi. Toji goes unheard as Megumi begins to cry his little heart out. 

Toji takes a deep breath, trying to remain collected in this situation. Megumi is only four and getting adjusted to the presence of his little sister. Toji decides that it’s best to walk away, going to the kitchen to get the baby’s bottle and deal with her first since Megumi’s issue isn’t easily resolved. 

“Papa!” Megumi yells, following around Toji as he gets a bottle in the baby’s mouth. 

“Megumi, wait for me in the living room.” Toji says, but Megumi isn’t listening. Daddy isn’t like mommy, whatever mommy says goes but when Toji speaks he goes ignored; Toji’s is far scarier and intimidating than you are, he doesn’t understand why Megumi doesn’t take him seriously. “Megumi, go away!”

“I’m running away!” Megumi stomps his little feet before finally leaving Toji to deal with the baby. Toji breathes in relief, his pesky little bug finally giving him a moment alone. He’s able to go to the living room and sit down comfortably as he finishes feeding his daughter. 

“He’ll come around, princess. He hasn’t witnessed just how cute you are.” Toji coos, as if the baby can understand or care. She finishes her bottle, and Toji burps her before setting her down in her crib. He usually chooses to hold her whenever he can, but right now he has bigger fish to fry.

Toji walks into Megumi’s room, watching how his son tries to fit his most valuable toys into a backpack. Toji is trying his best to not chuckle, knowing that Megumi is deeply hurt. Toji takes a seat on Megumi’s tiny bed, clearing his throat before asking, “Need help packing?”

“You hate me!” Megumi cries, and Toji rolls his eyes. Was he that dramatic when he was Megumi’s age? “Mommy and you don’t love me anymore.”

“Oh c’mon, why do you say that, urchin?” Toji tries to see the little guy’s point of view before attempting to comfort him. The last thing Toji needs is attempting to explain to you why Megumi is packing up all his toys– You leave him alone with the kids for a two hour nap and Megumi’s already moving out. 

“You only care for the new baby.” Megumi angrily muffles, and Toji could’ve guessed as much. 

“C’mere, baby. Let me carry you now.” Toji opens his arms for Megumi, and Megumi glares at his father. He wipes away his tears before deciding that he does want to be carried by his father, after all, the tantrum is simply because of this. Toji picks him up, setting him down on his lap before kissing his forehead. “Is this why you’ve been so sensitive? Because of the new baby?”

“Yeah…” Megumi pouts, and it takes everything in Toji to not laugh.

“I will tell you something but don’t tell mommy, okay?” Toji begins, almost whispering to Megumi. Megumi’s eyes perk up, and Toji is fighting back a smirk. “We… Don’t like the new baby that much. I mean, we just met her. But you, urchin? You’re our favorite.”

“Really?” Megumi’s voice is full of hope, and Toji prays that this means Megumi will stop being so jealous about his baby sister. Toji doesn’t hesitate before nodding. It reminds Megumi that he doesn’t like being held anymore, which makes him get off Toji’s lap.

“Will you behave around her, now?” Toji asks, and Megumi takes a moment to think about it.

“Can we sell her?” Megumi responds, which makes Toji’s jaw drop. Did his cute little urchin seriously just say that?

“Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed near her room.” Toji stands up from the tiny bed, his knees cracking. He leans down and kisses the top of Megumi’s head, “Now unpack all of your toys before mommy wakes up.”

[bi-writes]

Can't stop thinking about pregnant!reader constantly snapping at simon and being tired and him just being so understanding and everyone that sees them just don't get it? Because how is the Lieutenant that snaps at whoever being this soft🫡🫡

you've been bringing your own lunch to work because you hate the meals the mess hall makes. it makes your pregnant belly absolutely angry, and simon's held your hair up enough times to know that if he doesn't pack you something to eat before you go, it'll be hell on earth.

the rec room door slams open. everyone jumps, startled in their seats, and simon just stares, leaning against the wall by the open window as he puffs on a cigarette.

his eyes focus on you just as you angrily waddle your way over. he doesn't even flinch when you smack the cigarette out of his mouth, stomping on it with your boot as you glare up at him. all he does is smirk a little, reaching down and thumbing at your jaw.

"'ello, beautiful," he murmurs, his dark eyes roaming over your face. you let him touch for just a moment before you hit his hand off.

"don't try and butter me up," you snap, narrowing your eyes more. "you forgot...you forgot!"

he sighs, licking over his bottom lip.

"never seen anythin' prettier than ya," he whispers. he wants to shove down your pants and fuck your sopping cunt (he knows you're wet, you always are now), but instead he just lets out a soft breath and takes in how pretty you really are. just gorgeous--those big, pouty lips, all glossy and wet. those eyes--what drew him to you in the first place, that gaze that could stop a thousand bullets.

"you forgot my lunch, simon," you cry, and he cups your face, shaking his head. "i hate you. you're a sorry bastard! what's wrong with you?!"

he leans down and pecks your lips through the mask, and johnny, who's been slack-jawed and caught off-guard since you came into the room, turns to look at gaz--who's equally as confused.

"didn't forget, swee'eart," simon murmurs. "got y'some take-away. thought y'might fancy somethin' else."

your angry expression fades just a little, and you smooth both hands over your bump.

"you...you did?" you sniffle, and simon chuckles, nodding.

"y'r just tired, luv...aren't ya?"

you nod, closing your eyes. he soaks up your tears with the thumbs of his gloved hands.

"y'r feet oll swollen..." he kisses your jaw through the mask, and your eyes flutter a little. "c'mon, bubs. let's get ya off y'r feet, aye? get ya some food?"

you let him coax your face into his chest, and you settle there, taking a deep breath.

"you need to stop smoking," you whisper as you get a whiff of the scent on his clothes. "if i catch you again, i'll kill you."

"olright, luv," he agrees absentmindedly, turning you around to guide you out of the room. your food is in his room since he doesn't trust his sergeants not to pick at it if he left it in the shared fridge. "woteva ya say."

when you both close the door behind you, johnny blinks.

"i think i just saw a ghost, a real one..." he murmurs. "i must've just seen a ghost, gaz, have i gone mad? or did i just see our lieutenant with a lass? and did she just call 'im a bastard?"

"no," gaz turns back to their card game, dealing out another hand. "no, we didn't see anythin', soap."

"huh?"

"we didn't...see...anything."

[evie-sturns]

camera - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you and your boyfriend chris get into an argument about you supposedly breaking his camera, you two get too rough with each other.

contains: angst, physical argument (not a lot just a little push and shove), crying, comforting.

a/n: i know chris would never touch you in a way to hurt you, its just fiction. :)

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

i lay on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through my phone as i hear a loud yell from upstairs.

"y/n!" chris's voice booms through the house,

"what!?" i call back, my eyebrows furrowing as i stand up off the couch and jog towards the staircase.

chris storms down the stairs,

“are you a fucking idiot!” he yells at me, my heart sinks instantly as my eyebrows furrow dramatically

“excuse me?” i almost scoff, chris never yells at me, he knows i hate it.

he clutches his vlogging camera in his hands before holding it up to my eye level, inches away from my face.

the lense is completely shattered, glass falling off it everytime he moves.

“what happened??” i ask, holding the camera in my hands, inspecting it.

chris takes in a shaky breath, “don’t play dumb with me, i’m sick of you.”

i shove the camera back into his hands, “what the fuck are you mad at me for?” i raise my voice.

“for breaking my camera are you stupid?!” he raises his voice back at me, his eyes narrow as he glares down at me.

“i didn’t break your camera chris, come on.” i sigh, trying to de-escalate the argument.

suddenly he slams the camera down onto the floor, the noise of it hitting the wooden planks is deafening.

my heart thumps against my ribs as i reach out for chris’s arm, i rub it gently.

“let’s- lets talk like adults please.” i breathe out. he grabs my hand and throws it back towards me

“do you realise, that’s a four thousand dollar camera, that i got last week?” he steps towards me, towering over me

“now who’s gonna pay for all your shit y/n, not me because without this camera there’s no videos to be posted.”

i avoid eye contact with him, if i’m being totally honest i’m fucking terrified.

he grabs my chin, “look at me!” he yells.

i grab his wrist and tear it away from my face before taking a step back.

“your acting like i can’t fund for myself, i have a job!”

chris steps towards me again, i take another step back.

“and i didn’t break your shitty camera, your blaming me because you’re upset that your money has gone to waste!” i say angrily, staring into chris’s eyes.

he laughs, “i don’t like liars.” he pushes me back slightly, my back hitting the wall.

“i’m not lying you asshole!” i step out of the way, before going to walk away.

his large hand wraps around my wrist, he yanks me back towards him, popping my shoulder out of place.

he puts me back in the same position infront of the wall,

“don’t try to leave, we’re not done until you stop lying!” he shouts, staring down at me.

my bottom lip trembles, “i don’t know what to tell you, i didn’t break your camera chris.” i speak honestly,

he nods with a fake smile, “mm, i bet.”

i go to walk away again but he doesn’t let go of me,

“let me go.” i say quietly, my shoulder aching and my face burning hot.

“no, i’m so done with you, and everything.” he speaks, my eyebrows contort.

“don’t even think about that,” i warn, grabbing his hand which rests on my wrist as i try to pry it off of me.

“you let me the fuck go right now chris, and we can both cool down because clearly you need it.” i inhale sharply.

chris let’s go of me before shoving me backwards,

chris had never hurt me, ever. he’s never pushed me, yelled at me, or even threatened to do anything to me. this isn’t like him at all.

i stumble over, landing on my hands and knees before instantly getting back up, i walk over to him and push him back before walking away, my feet stomping against the ground.

tears start to rush down my face, i let out a loud sob before reaching the spare room.

“crying now? pathetic bitch.” i hear him call out, not making my state any worse

i slam the door to the bedroom shut before locking it, i crawl into the bed as i frantically get my phone out.

i instantly call my best friend, nick.

“hey!” nick says through the phone,

“nick- nick” i stammer through floods of tears

i audibly hear him gasp through the phone, “y/n, what’s happening? are you okay?” his voice is frantic.

“no- me and chris just had a really big fight- i’m talking pushing and everything and yelling-“ i squeeze out, my voice breaking.

“okay- that’s okay just take a nice deep breath for me.” nick attempts to sound calm, to try calm me down.

i suck in a sharp breath,

“have you two ever fought this bad before?” he asks, i clutch the phone in my hand as i hold it up to my ear tight.

“no- no.” i sob,

“you know i would come round right now, i’m so sorry i can’t.” nick sighs,

“would you like me to call chris and talk to him about it!?” nick asks, i sniffle before shaking my head like he can see me

“no- he’s really mad.” i speak into the phone,

“look, i promise you i’ve had really bad fights with chris before and he always, always, makes up for it even when i’m in the wrong. you just gotta give him some time and he’ll come round.” nick says with a sad tone.

“mm.” i hum, my tears slowing slightly now.

“i’m about to go with matt to a meeting, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” nick asks,

“i’ll be fine- thank you nick i love you.” i sniff,

“love you to, feel better soon and keep me updated yeah?” nick says,

“i will.” i say before hanging up.

——————

i flop down onto the mattress, the whole house is dead silent. i don’t know if chris left, or what’s happening but i haven’t heard a peep out of him ever since i got in the spare bedroom.

i look down at my phone, it’s now 11pm, 4 hours have passed.

i stand up out of bed before walking towards the door, i slowly creak it open before walking out into the corridor.

i feel like i’m hiding from him, even though i’m not. i think i’m just scared to see him again.

i walk into the bathroom before shutting the door, i yawn loudly. if this was a normal day chris and i would be asleep together in bed by now, but we’re not.

i wash my face in the sink with one of my old face washes, all my skincare is in chris and eyes shared bathroom which connects to our bedroom.

i unlock the door to the bathroom before making my way back into the spare bedroom.

i peel back the covers on the sheets and climb in, tugging them up over myself.

knock knock

i hear two soft knocks on the door, my stomach drops and i feel my heart rate pick up.

i freeze, unsure of what to do.

“can i- can i come in.” i hear a quiet voice speak from outside,

“um- okay.” i reply, my voice shaking slightly.

chris creaks open the door before switching on the lamp which rests on the desk by the door

a warm light illuminates the room, i stay still under the covers as chris and i lock eyes.

“can i sit here.” chris asks quietly, pointing to the edge of the bed.

i nod, pursing my lips together.

he sits down, he fidgets with his hands before opening his mouth.

“i’m really really sorry.” he sniffs,

he looks like a wreck from what i can see, his eyes are swollen, his cheeks are flushed and eyes are bloodshot

his voice shakes like he’s on the verge of tears,

“i- i genuinely couldn’t tell you why i did any of that-“ his voice breaks and i see tears start to roll down his face,

he attempts to wipe each one but nothing slows them down.

he takes his sharp breathes as he pulls two ice backs out of his pocket.

he hands them to me and my eyebrows furrow.

he points to his shoulder,

i now realise he’s got me ice packs from when he yanked my wrist and popped my shoulder out of place.

chris looks away from me as i hear his cry’s get more intense.

“do you want a hug chris?” i speak softly, he nods before shifting up the matress to me. i reach my arms out and wrap them around his shaking body.

he wraps his arms around my waist. i sit up against the headboard of the bed and he buries himself in my chest.

he try’s to speak again “i didn’t mean to hurt you and i’m so sorry.” he says in between sobs,

“shh- sh you can apologise once you’ve calmed down.” i whisper, playing with his hair.

i take in deep breathes, he mimics my breathes and his tears slow down.

he sits up again and wipes his face with both hands.

“i shouldn’t have blamed you- i know you didn’t break my camera i was just so confused on how i managed to break my camera so easily that i didn’t even consider that i might have done it.” he says quietly,

“and i shouldn’t of touched you, i genuinely feel sick everytime i think about it and i didn’t mean to push you over or yank your wrist i just wasn’t thinking at all.”

“and i also shouldn’t have called you that.” he sniffs,

my eyebrows furrow, he looks at me before whispering in my ear.

“a- you know.. bitch.” he hesitates.

i let out a small laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“i’m sorry too-“ i start but he presses a finger to my mouth.

“no. don’t say your sorry because you did nothing wrong.” he shushes me,

“but-“ i start, he presses his lips onto mine to shut me up.

i kiss him back lazily, he pulls apart to let out a massive yawn.

“you’re so tired.” i laugh,

“i mean i tried to sleep earlier but i can’t physically sleep without you.” he mutters.

“oh chris.” i breathe, pulling him closer to me as i run my hand through his soft hair.

———-

tags:

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi! I love your fics so much and wanted to send in a request if that would be okay with you!!💗 could you please do a lifeguard!Ari Levinson x Tiny!reader where she brings him lunch while he’s at work, she’s wearing a bikini… obvi. When she gets there she sees girls flirting and staring at Ari and she gets really jealous, size kink… smut? 😁

hey honey! thank you so much, I'm sorry this took so long, and I hope you like it.

summary - you go to surprise your boyfriend and get jealous over the women hanging around him.

warning - smut, angst, jealousy, daddy kink, creampie, breeding kink, swearing, public sex.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You wanted to surprise your partner. You decided to make his favourite food, wrapping it in cute packaging before putting it in an adorable picnic basket and wearing the sexy bikini that Ari had gifted you. You were happy as you skipped up, excited to see Ari, but you began to regret it as you got closer. Your man stood with tall, good-looking women around him, their hands touching his biceps, and they seemed to be flirting. Was this what he does when he’s here? Did you not mean anything? Were you too short? Many thoughts flew around in your mind, causing the green-eyed monster to appear. 

You can feel your inner brat begin to make its way to the surface. With a huff, you stomp your foot and angrily turn around, not feeling in the mood to have lunch with Ari anymore. You don’t notice Ari turning his head with a smile as he sees you, which slowly turns into a frown when he catches you walking away. He growls when he realises why. These stupid bimbos are always crowding him daily, and he’s learnt to zone them out, watching out for danger. They had known he was taken, but they didn’t care, and he wished he could drown them in the same ocean he was watching. 

Ari pushes the women as he stalks after you, nodding to the other lifeguard to take over for him. “Baby!” Ari huffs, breaking out into a jog as he chases after you. “Baby! Goddamit woman! Slow down!” He growls, wondering how a tiny ass woman can be so damn fast. Ari finally catches up to you, quickly getting ahead and stopping before you. He sighs when he notices the look on your face, knowing he’d have to make it up to you. “Baby girl. Where do you think you're going?” 

You roll your eyes, attempting to walk past him but feel annoyed as he stops you. “Ari, let me go. I’m not in the mood. Go back to your beach, bimbos.” You grumble, and a squeal escapes as you are suddenly lifted, your feet no longer touching the ground as Ari carries you to a secluded part of the beach. Your tiny fists hit his back, gasping as his large hand smacks your plump cheeks. 

Ari plonks you down onto the ground and stands over you. “Now, baby girl. You know I love you, and I’d never cheat on you, so why let your inner brat take over?” His hands rest on his hips before he kneels and crawls on top of you, gripping your cheeks softly. “Did my little baby come to give daddy some lunch, hmm? Did you come here wearing my favourite bikini and then get jealous thinking I’d rather have someone else?” A moan slips past your lips as he rubs his prominent bulge against your covered cunt. “Why don’t I make it up to you, baby.” You whine when he slides your bikini bottoms to the side and takes his throbbing member out. Ari lines the thick cock with your entrance before slowly pushing in, grunting with how tight you are around him. “Fuck, baby!” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling your walls spasm wildly around his cock as he continues to push in deeper and deeper, stretching you open from the inside. Your hands fly to his back, digging your nails into his flesh as your head flies back. “Daddy! Daddy! Oh fuck!” You whine and moan, wrapping your tiny legs around his giant body. Your screams echo as he begins to pound into you, fucking you hard and deep, marking you, claiming you. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby. Why would I want someone else when I have you, huh?” Ari growls, holding your tiny body down as he destroys you, taking you apart underneath him. His cock splits you open, drilling into you until you wither underneath him, your back arches, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your arousal squirts out of you and covers him. “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Squirt for daddy.” Ari’s hand slithers between you and plays with your swollen clit, prolonging your orgasm. His balls tighten, and his cock begins to twitch wildly before thick amounts of cum spurt out of him and deep into you, stuffing you full of him. “Gonna pump you full of me, let everyone know your mine, and I’m yours as your round with my child.” You whimper underneath him, cumming at his words. 

Ari leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, holding you close to him as he strokes your cheek. “I love you so much, baby. You’re my little doll.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || ben drowned || maid!reader || (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: switch!stoner!ben, orgasm denial, thigh riding, face fucking, weed use (duh)

You awkwardly jogged down the main hallway, arms full of cleaning supplies. You had accidentally caught Jeff at a bad time, the pale killer soaked in blood and unhappy with his new wound that came from his victim. Pissing him off was not an intentional act, but it was one you were certainly going to pay for. Apparently tending to the blood soaked floor before him was insulting. You found this absurd considering you were the mansions maid, not doctor. Nevertheless your attention being focused elsewhere pissed him off, resulting in your feet pattering against the floor as you ran down the hall.

Your bottles full of various cleaners swished around as you turned the corner, your body ramming straight into an all too familiar blonde. A wave of marijuana invaded your nostrils, bong water splashing out of his glass piece and landing on the both of you. “Oh shit i’m so so sorry,” You say. Awkwardly you ripped off a paper towel, trying to dab at Ben’s shirt. Ben wasn’t much taller than you, a joint loosely hanging from his lips as he looked down at you. “Dont sweat it princess. Say uh, is there a reason you’re running a marathon?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. It was then the loud pounding stomps interrupted your conversation, your face turning red. “Where are you?! You little bitch!” Jeff screeched. Frantically you grabbed his army green hoodie, pawing at the fabric.

“Hide me!”

Ben may have been too high to fully comprehend your request, but that didn’t stop him from shoving you into his bedroom and shutting the door.

You gasped, a couple of your cleaning bottles falling from your arms. It was then you slapped your hand over your mouth, determined to keep quiet as Jeff’s storm raged on. “Where is she?” You heard him hiss, presumably at Ben. Unknowingly to you the blonde stood on the other side of the door, unfazed by Jeff’s absurd antics, “Where’s who?” Ben asked nonchalantly. Jeff angrily paced back and forth, his blood soaked boots littering the floor with footprints. “That little maid. You know who i’m talking about,” Jeff barked. Ben shrugged, taking his lighter out of his pocket. “Couldn’t tell you dude. Want a hit?” Ben asked, gesturing to the joint that he was now relighting.

Jeff dramatically threw his hands up, stomping away. “Jesus everyone in this mansion is fuckin useless,” He grumbled, continuing his hunt for you. You jumped as Ben’s door opened, the blonde stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “You look like a scared bunny, relax pretty princess. Here, try this,” Ben offered. You watched him inhale the joint, his pointy ears twitching as he did so. He hoped you couldn’t notice how much he was staring at your exposed breast in that slutty piece of clothing you were forced to call a work uniform. Somehow the lanky man’s calm demeanor made you feel somewhat relaxed. He seemed so much more down to earth than the others. So much so it almost made you forget he was a killer just like the rest of them. Almost.

Hesitantly you reached out, grabbing the joint and taking it in between your fingers. “I haven’t smoked since high school,” You admitted sheepishly, bringing the joint to your lips. You inhaled briefly at first, allowing the smoke to circulate around your lungs. “You’re gonna love this then. I get that premium shit. If there’s one thing you’re gonna know about me, you should know my green is always going to be out of this world,” Ben replied, confidence lacing his words. You looked so cute to him, awkwardly sitting on your knees on his bedroom floor. Band posters and neon led lights covered the walls, while groovy lava lamps and incense burned in the background. It was the cleanest creep room you had ever seen. As you exhaled you began to cough, your eyes watering as you handed Ben back the joint.

“Noted. Holy fuck that’s strong,” You gasped, trying to cover the sound of your coughs with your hand. Ben reached over to his mini fridge, digging past the unholy amount of monsters and handing you some bottled water. “Thanks,” You say in between coughs, tears flooding your waterline. The blonde sat himself down beside you, raising his hand and tenderly wiping away a line of tears falling down your cheek. You chugged the water, the icy cold liquid combating the fire that had engulfed your throat. “You’re cute when you cry,” Ben mumbled. If you weren’t so focused on your coughing, his suggestive comment would’ve made you incredibly flustered. You swallowed, regaining some form of composure after you wiped away your other tears.

“You too,” You managed to pant, referring to the stray drops of crimson blood that fell down his cheeks. Ben seemed unfazed by it, a mischievous grin creeping across his lips. “You’re a witty one. I can see why everyone likes you so much,” He chuckled. You watched, completely mesmerized as he exhaled the smoke through his nose. You let his comment slip past you, wanting to focus on the man before you and not all of the previous ones that had kept you up late at night. “Holy shit that’s so cool. Teach me,” You say, grinning lazily. Ben shook his head, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth this time. He pointed it towards the ceiling, the hazy smoke disappearing into the air. “Not this time pretty princess. I give it two more hits and you’re gonna be cooked,” He explained, causing you to roll your eyes. You became more relaxed as you inhaled this time, your coughs minimal and cleaning supplies long left discarded at the blondes doorway.

You leaned back against the closest wall, Ben sitting in front of you. He was so enchanted by your beauty, watching you hit the joint like a goddess. “What are you looking at?” You asked shyly. Ben leaned forward, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. “You. You’re awfully pretty,” He mumbled, his words only audible enough for you to hear. You could feel your face turn red as you exhaled, the blue led lights concealing your blush. You weren’t sure what to say, the blonde making your stomach do unfamiliar backflips. “So, you save me from Jeff and now let me smoke your premium weed. How can I ever repay you?” You asked, nervously twiddling with your hair. Ben grinned, leaning forward. “Kiss me,” He murmured, desperation lacing his words.

You leaned forward, your nose brushing against his before you fluttered your eyes shut. You could feel your lips press against his, your high making every move seem much more longer and calculated. You pulled yourself closer to him, straddling his lap as you kissed him deeper. Ben was just as eager as you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your hips slowly grinded against him. You mumbled a curse against his lips, your core growing wetter with excitement as he lowered both of you back against the floor. You leaned over him, kissing down his neck as he shuddered underneath you. “Someone’s desperate,” He teased, smirking as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“You’re one to talk. Your porn addiction doesn’t go unheard you know,” You countered. Shoving his shirt over his head you threw it elsewhere, kissing down his chest before reaching his jeans. “Watch yourself pretty girl. Porn has taught me a lot of things. Things that’ll make you cream your pants,” Ben snickered. Cockily he propped his hands up behind his head, watching you teasingly drag the zipper down with your teeth. You maintained eye contact with the blonde, relishing in the temporary sense of control. You then roughly tugged his pants down, desperate to suck his cock. Once he was exposed you eagerly began to suck him off, Ben kind enough to grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, just like that,” He whimpered, biting his lower lip. You took him down to the base, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you deep throated him.

Ben was a whimpering mess, strings of curses with mixtures of your names falling off of his lips like a mantra. You continued to suck him off, watching as he grabbed a fresh joint from his pocket, lighting it. You hated to admit how attractive it was to have him smoking nonchalantly as you put your heart and soul into getting him off. “Such a good girl. My pretty princess,” He purred, shoving you down further on his cock. You gripped his thighs, gagging as he hit the back of your throat more aggressively. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin hot,” He grumbled, exhaling the smoke before face fucking you. Your nails dug into his thighs, the pain only bringing him more excitement as he abused your throat. Your gags and whines were heavenly sounds to him, the blonde in a pure state of bliss as he inhaled more of the joint.

Just when you thought you were going to run out of oxygen Ben pulled you off of him. A string of saliva connected you to his tip, your lungs grateful as you gasped for gulps of air. Ben smirked at the sight, dragging you towards him. He sat against the side of his bed, propping you up against his thigh. You whined as his jeans brushed against your clothed cunt, your panties damp from arousal. You went to move to straddle Ben properly, his large hands stopping you. “Go on pretty princess, ride my thigh,” He ordered. His sudden switch made you as a loss for words, your hands gathering handfuls of his hoodie. “Go on, don’t get all shy on me now. I’ve heard those cute noises you make for the others. Just wanna hear you make them for me,” Ben cooed. He smirked as he inhaled more of the joint. He pulled down your dress, your bare breast bouncing out before him.

“No bra? Naughty naughty girl,” He snickered. You whimpered as his hands guided you to grind down on his thigh, your small whines becoming louder moans. Ben leaned down and grabbed your breast, bringing it to his mouth as he guided you to ride him faster. You tilted your head back, moaning as his tongue swirled around your nipple. “Ben,” You groaned, your wet slick covering his jeans. You felt his hand slither to your panties, pushing them to the side so your clit had better access. You bit your bottom lip, unable to control your sinful noises as Ben released your nipple with a pop. “Oh that feels good doesn’t it?” Ben asked mockingly. Frantically you nodded in agreement, the cord inside of your stomach tightening. “So fucking close Benny, so close,” You panted. You were so close, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You were almost over the edge, before abruptly the blonde flipped the two of you over. Your back hit the floor, a gasp escaping your lips. Desperately you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to create friction. “Awe you didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easily, did you?” Ben gloated. He nudged his way in between your thighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning them beside your head. “You’re gonna beg. You’re gonna beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna beg me like the little bitch you are to make you cum,” Ben commanded devilishly. Leaning close to your face he gave you a sadistic grin, your pathetic desperation only making his cock harder. “And if you don’t, you can go ask Jeff to get you off instead,” He countered. You licked your dry lips, your hips bucking upwards. He set the joint aside on an ashtray, awaiting your answer.

“Ben please, fucking please, I need you. I need you so fucking bad. Please,” You whined. Your pleas were shameless, your core throbbing in desire. Ben grinned at the sound of your begging, the words music to his ears. Quickly he aligned himself with your entrance, shoving himself inside of you. You gasped at how fast he bottomed out, your gummy walls clinging to his cock. “If you’re out here taking EJ’s dick I know you can handle mine. Now let me hear those pretty noises you love to make,” He grinned. Slowly and teasingly he dragged his hips out of you, before roughly slamming them back inside. You couldn’t control your unholy noises, Ben’s whines and whimpers almost as loud as yours. “Fuckin, shit-, fuck. Such a tight pussy,” Ben panted, ramming his hips into yours.

His cock abused your cunt as he pleased, your wrist burning under the carpet he held you down. His soulless eyes stared into yours, watching every micro expression you made as he pounded into you. You were seeing stars, your high combined with your body shaking from the pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so good. Feel so fuckin good, fucking shit,” Ben grunted. He leaned forward, burying his face into your neck as he fucked you mercilessly. His whimpers and whines sounded like heaven, your sinful noises bouncing off of his colorful bedroom walls. “Ben- i’m close. So close,” You warned. Ben then held himself up, his sadistic gaze staring right into your soul. “Hold it,” He barked. You tried to close your legs, Ben’s hips stopping you.

His thrust didn’t slow down by any means, the cord inside of you threatening to snap. “I-I can’t,” You stuttered. You bit your bottom lip, avoiding the blondes stern gaze. “You can and you will,” Ben growled. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came on Ben’s cock. The euphoria was heavenly, your vision temporarily turning white. As you came down you babbled apologies, Ben’s thrust now halted. He was still balls deep inside of you, his lips curling upwards into a sadistic grin.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I think I need to call reinforcements.”

Ben leaned over to his bed and grabbed his phone, putting it up to his ear. He grabbed his previous joint, relighting it as he dialed a number. You nervously listened to the dial tone, gulping.

“Hey Jeff, I got your little maid and she’s in need of a punishment.”

[miguelhugger2099]

Puppy Love

Summary: Gabriella wants a puppy! Miguel doesn’t. You convince him. Kinda. Not really. Art: Spinkee on Deviantart (quality is booty but i couldn't find another miguel with a dog hah)

Miguel x Reader, Pure Fluff that’s it.

“No. No, no, no, ningún perro.” Miguel shakes his head at Gabriella, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

His daughter is on her knees on the floor, looking up at her father on the couch with her hands clasped together. She falls on her back dramatically.

“Pero porque nooooo?!” She whines and Miguel sighs, rubbing his temples with one hand and dragging it down his face. He watches Gabriella complain and pound her fists and feet on the floor.

“Ah-ah-ah! Nada de eso.” He says sternly and Gabriella huffs, sitting back up with her legs crossed. She pouts angrily at him to show her fury but all Miguel sees is his baby girl throwing a tantrum.

“Gabi, mija, you’re not even gonna take care of it. Who’s gonna clean up the poop and pee, huh? It’s gonna be me.”

“Papi, I’ll take good care of it! I promise! Pinky promise!” She whimpers, scooting closer and tugging on his pant leg.

“Dije que no, Gabriella. Deja de chillar.” Miguel doesn’t even look down at her, his stress levels heightened after Gabriella had been asking for a pet dog for weeks now.

Gabriella’s face scrunches up, her tiny features contorting unpleasantly as tears well up in her eyes. “MAMI!” She cries, getting up and stomping away from Miguel in the living room to barge in your room where you were folding her clothes.

Gabriella faceplants in the bed, screams muffled as she flails her limbs wildly in frustration.

You pick up one of her clean shirts and fold it neatly in a growing pile. “What happened this time?” You ask her, taking a quick glance up to see Gabriella had moved her face to the side, cheeks flushed red with anger.

“Papi won’t let us have a puppy.”

“Gabi, my love, a puppy is a big responsibility.” Your daughter groans and flips on her back, watching you do her laundry.

“But, Mami, I'm not a baby anymore! I’m ten years old! Ten! I’ll be so responsible! Tell Papi that he won’t need to do anything!”

Once you’re finished folding, you place a hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow down at her. “Papi said no so we’re not getting a puppy, Gabi. Not now.”

“Mami, please!”

“Take these to your room, my love.” You hand the folded pile to her and she begrudgingly takes it. She hops off the bed and goes into her room where she shuts herself in for the rest of the day.

You meet Miguel in the living room, TV volume lowered of a faint cheer of futbol fans during a game. Curling up on his side, he welcomed you with his arm around you, tucking you closer and getting more comfortable with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe we should get a puppy.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel groans, his head rolling back and you look up at him with amusement. “Not you too.”

“We have the funds! I don’t see why we can’t have a little pet around here to keep Gabi occupied.” You place your hand on his chest, rubbing in little circles.

Miguel’s head tilts towards you. “It’s not the funds I’m worried about. I know as soon as that dog comes in, all Gabi’s gonna do is play with it and I’m stuck cleaning it’s shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. It’s our baby girl we’re talking about. Our princess.” You coax him but he’s firm on his stance.

“No. Dogs and all those animals belong outside. So they’ll stay outside and never in my damn house.” He trains his eyes back on the screen.

“You’re so stingy.” You pout and cuddle up to him, head resting on his shoulder.

“She can get a dog when she moves out which is never.” Miguel grumbles, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Remember: Don’t tell Papi how much we spent.” You remind Gabriella, giving her a pointed look with your index finger over your lips. 

Gabriella beams with happiness, nodding vigorously as she holds a brand new puppy in her arms. A little black pitbull sniffing the air and wagging its tail from left to right, matching the girl’s excitement.

You open the door and Gabriella places the dog down gently. The puppy sniffs the floor and huffs through its nose, getting familiar with its new home. It quickly sneezes and sniffs through everything, half of its body being swung around with its tail. It gives a small yip and its jumps around, wanting to play.

Gabriella is ecstatic! She chases the puppy around, taking toys from a bag and throwing it. “C’mere Princess!”

You slump on the couch, peering in the bag of pet supplies for a baby dog that Miguel would definitely not be happy about.

Gabriella runs around with the puppy for hours before passing out after a day of play. While placing pee pads in the corner of the living room, You hear the door unlock.

Your lovely and blissfully unaware husband hangs his keys in the hook, shrugging off his coat. “Hola, mi amor.” He greets you. 

You welcome him with a hug and a kiss, one he hums in delight. His arms go around your waist and he bends down for another kiss. “How was your day?” You ask him, lips brushing against his.

Miguel sighs. “Fine. Could be…better…” He trails off after hearing unfamiliar footsteps and a bark.

Miguel turns his head to the side to see a little pitbull running up to him and barking, thinking he’s an intruder! Princess circles around him, sniffing and sneezing with her snout, darting this way and that way before looking up at him with a ‘smile’. All she’s really doing is baring her teeth.

Miguel stares blankly at the dog. “You didn’t.”

You grin up at him, wincing. “I did.” You stop him when he groans your name, a lecture on the tip of his tongue. “Princess is already here and Gabi is just so happy.”

“You named it already?” He rolls his head back, hand coming up to cover his eyes in disbelief. He pulls away from you, a pout on his lips. “I’m not taking care of it. You keep that thing away from me.”

“Miguel, now you’re just being dramatic.” You place your hands on your hips. Princess continues to sniff at Miguel’s legs and he shoos her away.

“Mama, listen. I'm not walking or feeding or playing or cleaning it’s shit. That’s for Gabi to do. Whatever it needs, it’s not my problem.”

Miguel kept most of his promise. That was until you went weekly grocery shopping with him on the weekend. While you were finding the meats, you told Miguel to grab the seedless green grapes that Gabriella wanted.

He came back with the grapes and a dogs chew toy. It was a plain bone with ridges around the middle. He tosses it in the cart and hangs by your side. You glance at the toy and then Miguel.

“Why?” You ask. Miguel takes a grape from the box and eats it. Mid-chew, he answers you.

“For the dog. She’s chewing on my shoes.” 

“Uh-huh…” You nod, unconvincingly. Miguel ignores the way you don’t believe him, his hands grabbing the handle of the cart and moving without you. 

The next time is when Miguel comes home from work, dropping his work bag to the floor and tossing his coat on the arm of the couch. He sits with a loud groan, flipping his shoes off. 

The scratches of Princess’s nails scurry down the stairs and rushes towards Miguel, pawing at his pants. 

Miguel leans down and rubs her back a bit before patting her. Princess tumbles to the ground and rolls on her back, huffing while her tongue slips off to the side. “Hey, Princess.” He mutters, patting her over and over again. Princess tries to gnaw on his hand, still growing out her sore canines and Miguel tsks slipping his hand off her. “Okay, okay, ya, ya!” 

Princess rolls back on her stomach, unphased by Miguel’s snapping. She then sits up and jumps so her front paws are on the couch seat and Miguel shoves her paws off. 

“No! Not on the couch! You have a bed!” 

You approach with Miguel’s dinner, him taking the plate from you appreciatively. You then stare down at Princess, her beady black eyes looking between you and the food on Miguel’s plate.

“You just ate, Princess. Go. Bed.” You command and she walks off to her little round fuzzy bed, collapsing on it and rests her head on her paws. She looks between you and Miguel again, her eyes become more and more cute in hopes of some extra food.

“You taught her stuff?” Miguel asks after taking giant bites of your cooking. You sit on a chair by the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table in the middle.

“Me and Gabi.” You hum and turn on the TV to a novela that you and Miguel both liked. 

Miguel grunts. “Quick learner.” He mutters. 

The other time is when you woke up and couldn’t find Princess. You knew Miguel was on his run so she couldn’t have escaped so she must’ve been hiding. But where?

You searched high and low before Gabriella woke up in the morning for playtime. A deep pit of worry in your stomach began to brew, the thought that Princess might’ve escaped somehow. 

While making your own breakfast, you hear the front door open and a loud bark, followed by loud panting. You leave your breakfast, moving over to peek at the front door to see Miguel huffing and puffing and Princess on the ground equally exhausted but her leash around her body. 

“You took Princess?” You ask, placing a hand on your chest in relief. You wouldn’t face a ten year olds tantrum today. 

“I thought Princesa could use an actual workout instead of twenty minute playtime with Gabi and—“ Miguel sighs again, wiping sweat off his forehead and fanning himself with the front of his loose white tank top. “Jesus, she has energy.”

“Princesa?” You ask with a raised brow.

“What?” He sniffs. “It’s still Princess. Don’t be weird.” You put your hands up in defense but he quickly surrounds his sweaty arms around you.

“Ew! No!” You laugh and try to leave him embrace. Miguel pressed a loud obnoxious kiss to your temple. The sound of the kiss making Princess jump up and start barking. She lunges at you both, using her force to push you enough to take a step back. 

She continues to bark and whine, nudging herself between you and Miguel’s legs. Miguel lets go of you which makes Princess jump up as high as possible to Miguel. He leans down and pats her body all around. 

“Alright, alright! I’m gonna shower.” He laughs and leaves another pat to her head before giving you a proper soft kiss to your forehead. 

But what really solidified Princess as an O’Hara was when Gabriella had a mini talent show in front of Miguel.

With one hand she held a treat. Her other hand did commands for the tutu wearing dog.

“Sit!” Gabriella said. Princess followed.

“Spin!” Princess spun.

“Roll over!” Princess stood still.

“Roll over!” Gabriella tried again. Princess tilted her head. Gabriella faces her father. “That one is still a little new.” She frowns but Miguel chuckles. He pats the seat beside him and Gabriella giggles, jumping into his arms.

Princess barks, feeling left out and tries to jump in as well. 

“No, no, no! Bed!” Miguel shakes his head, commanding her while trying to push her off and Gabriella helps her up. 

“Papi! Just let her do this one time!” Princess whines when Gabriella tugs on her front limbs.

“Gabi, no! The couch is gonna smell like dog!” 

Princess lands on the couch, her body having grown a little bit bigger after these few weeks. She places all her weight down on Miguel’s lap, tumbling down to lay down on top of Miguel and Gabriella’s lap. Gabriella tries to move but can’t so she laughs.

“She’s getting heavier!” 

Miguel groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Princess tilts her head up, her tongue coming out to lick his neck and face. Miguel stops her. “Eww!” And Gabriella breaks into laughter.

After a while, Miguel stays up watching TV, Gabriella and Princess both asleep in his lap, Gabis arm around Princess. 

You come from outside your shared bedroom and yawn. With your slippers you shuffle into the living room and see all three of them huddled up together. 

“You’re still here?” You ask, another yawn escaping you. 

Miguel looks at you and then his two girls in his arms. “They were so tired.” He mumbles softly.

You sigh and shake your head. He could be soft about his daughter and dog another day. Not in the middle of the night. “No. C’mon. Take Gabriella to bed.”

A/N: Heavily inspired by my own parents teehee

[ckret2]

Chapter 60 of human Bill Cipher almost wasn't the Mystery Shack's prisoner but he's back here for some reason:

Everything you never even imagined about how Bill survived his execution.

(warning for cultists doing cultish activities in this chapter. and i don't mean "fantastical Blind Eye Society hijinks," i mean "discussing how to indoctrinate & isolate new recruits.)

####

"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"

Stan punched Bill in the nose.

Bill tumbled on his back, hand over his face. Voice tight with pain, he said, "Just so you know, I let you do that."

Stan's voice hit a pitch he hadn't been able to reach since puberty. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALIVE!"

Bill sat up gingerly. "Well, funny story—"

"NO! Nuh-uh, I'm finishing you properly this time!" Fists raised, Stan lunged at Bill.

Ford grabbed Stan from behind, one arm around his neck and one hooked up under his armpit. (Bill took the opportunity to scoot backward and get to his feet.) "Stanley! Stand down!"

"YOU!" Stan flung Ford's hands off and whirled around, pointing accusatorially at him. "You gave me your word! Tell me you didn't let Bill out."

"I didn't let Bill out."

Stan grabbed Ford's turtleneck. "Don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't let Bill out!" Ford ripped Stan's hands off his turtleneck. "He was already gone when I went into the kids' room."

"Then who— Who else would've known—"

Stan whirled around at a creak on the stairs. Dipper, halfway down the stairs, jumped when Stan saw him.

"DIPPER!" Stan stormed up to the stairs. "Did you help the demon escape?!"

"What, no!" Dipper took a step back up. "I don't even know how he got out! All I did was not say anything!"

"Well, who's left that could've helped him?!"

"BIIILL!" Mabel barreled down the stairs. "YOU CAME BACK!" She climbed on the stair railing, jumped off, and Bill—who'd crept inside behind Stan—was once more tackled to the ground.

Stan's hands twisted in the air like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle someone, punch something, or pull out his own hair. He finally settled on curling them into fists and shaking them at God. "AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW THE DEMON'S ALIVE?!"

Soos, still sitting in the living room by himself, staring into space, voice hushed with horror, asked, "So who did I sweep into the flower vase..."

"Okay, family meeting!" Stan pointed at the living room, "Right now! You," he pointed at Bill, "upstairs! I don't wanna look at you and your—your stupid Las Vegas magician sequined coat!"

Bill sat up with a wince and grinned, "Oh, do you like it?" He took off his backpack and checked to see if its contents had been crushed when he was knocked down twice.

"You look like a circus clown!"

"I liked the Vegas magician thing better."

"GO!" Stan pointed up the stairs.

Bill raised his hands, rolling his eye as he started up the stairs. "Fine, fine—"

Stan grabbed Bill's wrist, making him drop his backpack. "STOP!"

"Make up your mind!"

Stan yanked one half of the enchanted friendship bracelets down over Bill's wrist. "You're not getting out again. Not on my watch."

Bill jerked his arm free, shot Stan a dirty look, and stomped up the stairs, umbrella clutched angrily in one hand and backpack in the other. Stan pulled the other half of the bracelet on.

In the living room, Ford, Dipper, and Mabel were lined up shamefacedly on the couch, like three students waiting to be lectured by the principal. Stan glowered at them each, fists on his hips. "Now, I wanna know why my own family all joined in some big secret conspiracy to help Cipher escape! Is it alien mind control?! Did you join a cult?!"

Mabel took a deep breath. "I saved him because he's my friend and I don't want him to die and he really is getting better and you'd all see it if you just gave him a chance to prove it and you just don't understand how he thinks like I do"—she took another breath—"and I promise he won't try to take over the world again just give him a chance!"

Stan's glare melted into something close to guilt. "You're... you're fine, pumpkin. I know you wouldn't have let your friend get hurt." He shot a glare at the other two conspirators. "Which is why we weren't going to tell her."

"Listen," Dipper said, "I still hate him and I don't trust him, but—but I heard part of a poem about Bill that I'm sure is a prophecy; which means he's important, we'll probably need him to save the town or something! So we can't let him die before then! He's already passed up chances to kill us and even saved Grunkle Ford and me, that proves he can restrain himself enough to be useful!" He winced, "Plus... I didn't wanna make Mabel sad. I have seen a future where she loses a friend, and it is not pretty."

Mabel leaned against Dipper. "Thanks, bro-bro."

Stan screwed up his face, but just muttered angrily under his breath about stupid prophecies and stupid life saving, and turned his glare on Ford. "Well? What's your excuse?"

Ford didn't answer, staring down at his hands, grimacing as he searched for an answer.

Stan pressed, "You told me that if you couldn't pull the trigger, you'd give me the gun. Why didn't you?"

"Because I could have pulled it! The situation was different, I—I only changed my mind because he wasn't there. If he had been, I'd have done it—"

"Would you? If you couldn't even tell me that he wasn't dead, do you really think that if he'd been right there, looking you in the eyes, you'd have done it?"

In his mind's eye, Ford could see Bill, hiding under a towel, grinning up at him with one bright eye. And Bill, collapsed beside the lake, shaking all over, sobbing so hard he didn't even notice he was clinging to Ford's stupid borrowed t-shirt like a lifeline. And Bill, staring tiredly across a chess board, telling Ford that the black king was taking the whole board down with him. And Bill, lighting up the room as he taught Ford's niece about his own long-extinct alien civilization.

And Bill, glowing golden, lighting up Ford's dream as he taught him about fifth-dimensional calculus.

Ford didn't answer.

Stan asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Softly, Ford said, "Because I don't want him to die."

Stan spread his arms in disbelief. "Well, why the hell not?!"

"Because—I'm—beginning to think that there might be a chance that Bill could..." he winced, "change. Maybe."

Stan's silence was deafening. Mabel leaned forward to stare around Dipper at Ford.

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I—it made sense yesterday, but it sounds stupid out loud."

Stan slowly shook his head. "Have you all lost your minds? You think he can change? You think he's part of some prophecy?! Y—Mabel, honey, you're the sweetest girl in the world, but you could do way better for friends than him."

Mabel sorta shrugged, sorta shook her head, sorta grimaced, and sorta nodded. "Yeah, but, I like him."

"WHY?!" Stan roared, making Mabel and Dipper both jump. "Why, why are any of you wasting your time on him?! Guys like him don't change! He's a dangerous, self-centered crook, and that's all he'll ever be. He's a rotten, greedy, lazy loser, he's only gotten as far as he has by conning guys smarter than him, he's got no regard for anybody but himself, all he does is cheat and lie, and if you let him stay in our lives he'll just ruin them! The best thing he could do for our family is—" Stan choked on a lump in his throat. "Is d-die."

The room was silent. Dipper and Mabel, leaning back into the sofa to get away from the rant, stared at him with wide eyes. Soos, over in an armchair bearing silent witness to this family drama, had his hands steepled in front of his face.

Stan couldn't look at Ford. He didn't know why Ford looked so sorrowful. Thickly, Stan asked, "All I want is to get rid of him—why don't you?"

He could hear Soos wince. "Oof."

Stan pointed at him. "Not a word. Not one word," he growled. "Fine—if none of you will deal with him properly," he cracked his knuckles, "I will."

Mabel flinched. Dipper moved to stand, "Grunkle Stan—" but stopped when Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

Stan stomped up the stairs. He'd wring that monster's stupid neck, and if it started the apocalypse then so be it—

He stopped halfway up the stairs. Bill was sitting on the steps, just around the landing corner, leaning against the wall, backpack in his lap. His soaked pant legs were dripping rainwater on the steps. "You," Stan snarled. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius? I'm trying to eavesdrop," Bill said. "So what'd they say?"

"What? What did who say about what?"

"About leaving me alive. Why did they say they don't want me dead?"

He asked like he was genuinely curious. Like he didn't know.

Stan stared at Bill.

"I have a good idea for Shooting Star, but the other two...?" Bill made an uncertain gesture with his hand. "I've got my top guesses, but I want to know what clinched the deal."

Stan couldn't kill him, either.

He'd already lost this fight. Pathetic lonely dead con artist who'd rather lose a tooth than look scared, how could Stan take him out? He understood too well. "Just—shut your stupid mouth, take off that stupid circus outfit, and get out of my sight, Cipher."

Bill bristled. "Hey." He stood. "What's that for? It's not like I did anything wrong. Sure, I got your whole family in on a conspiracy, but that's their mistake! I was just doing what I had to! You can't blame me for—"

"I don't blame you," Stan said.

"You d— You don't." Cautiously, Bill asked, "You... don't?"

"How can I?" He shrugged heavily. "It was self-defense. Ford should've known better—but I can't blame you. I'm not an idiot, I don't expect you to just lay down and die for us."

"Oh." Bill squinted at Stan, like he thought this was a trick and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Okay." After a pause, voice uncharacteristically small and confused, he asked, "So I'm... not in trouble?"

Stan's face did a gymnastics routine. "Heck," he muttered. "No! I guess not! I don't like it, but I'm not gonna punish a guy for saving his own miserable worthless hide! Just... stay out of my way, I don't wanna see your stupid face."

"I'm just minding my own business," Bill said. He sat again and leaned on the wall, arms crossed, staring into space thoughtfully. (He didn't know what to do with a reality where he'd done something everyone hated, but nobody blamed him for it.)

Stan trudged back downstairs. Everyone was where he'd left them. He glowered at his family. They quietly waited. "Well," Stan said. "We're stuck with him now. Since somebody wasted the only bit of fuel we had that could kill him. Is everyone happy."

Nobody seemed particularly happy. Ford shifted on his seat. "Kids... you should go to bed. Stan and I need to talk."

Dipper and Mabel quickly took the opportunity to slide off the sofa and escape the room.

"Oh! Oh you bet we need to talk! You have no idea how much we need to talk—"

"Downstairs," Ford said firmly.

"What, you don't want everyone else to hear exactly what I think of your crazy stunt?"

Ford lowered his voice. "Downstairs where he can't overhear. It's important."

Stan's face twitched with the effort of suppressing more shouting; but then he growled, "Fine! But this had better be worth it. Lemme get my bathrobe, your stupid underground office is like a freezer..." He trudged from the room, grumbling. "Hey, demon! Take off your bracelet, I'm done being tied to your sorry hide." After a moment, the thread reappeared on the stair steps as they both took their ends off.

Dipper glared at Bill as he and Mabel passed him going up the stairs. Bill gave him a tiny, cheery wave. Dipper grumbled, "I can't believe you finally escaped like you wanted just to come right back."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea! Blame your sister!"

Mabel hugged him again. "Thanks for coming back."

Bill said, "Thanks for absorbing Stan's wrath for me!" He laughed.

The kids ran upstairs.

And Bill placed the tip of his broken umbrella on the stair step and quietly walked back down, winding the enchanted bracelets' thread into loops as he went.

####

Soos looked at Ford and shyly raised a hand. "So... when you said the kids should go to bed, did that include..."

"Yes, Soos," Ford said. "You should go too."

"Yes." He quietly pumped a fist. "One of the kids." As he left, he said, "Hey, Bill. Sweet coat."

Ford looked over. Hovering in the shadows of the entryway, almost glowing gold from the living room's light, Bill peered into the room. He was by the coat rack, hanging the bracelets back up. Bill said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Ford sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Cipher."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not down here for you." Bill gestured at the sofa Ford was on. "I want my bed back."

Right. Ford stood so Bill could retrieve the cushions.

As he grabbed the first cushion, Bill smirked at Ford. "So..." (Not here for you. Sure.) "What was it that swayed you?"

Ford just glowered at Bill.

Bill pressed, "Was it that handy list of starter spells I gave you? I doubt it was my chess prowess, that wasn't my best playing." He laughed, "What am I asking for! You humans are suckers for a life debt. You can consider it paid off—a life for a life, fair and square—"

"It wasn't any of those."

Bill's smile disappeared. "Then what?" he asked. "Don't tell me you did it out of the goodness of your heart, I've seen enough of yours not to buy that—"

"It was Mabel."

Bill dropped his first cushion on top of the second and awkwardly tried to get his arms around both. "What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing." Nothing that had changed Ford's mind, anyway. "It's how you treat her."

"How I—?" Bill was so baffled that he almost looked offended. "What are you talking about? I haven't been treating her any way at all! I'm just... just goofing around with her. She's a fun kid."

"Exactly," Ford said. "If you can treat just one odd little girl with kindness, for no reason—then maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you." He sighed; he felt the sternness in his face slacken. He felt tired. "At least... I want to hope there is."

There was a flash of something Ford couldn't recognize in Bill's face. Something like pain; something nearly like guilt. It was gone almost as soon as he saw it.

"Well, sure," Bill said flatly, glancing away like Ford had lost his interest. "Why wouldn't I be nice to her? I like weird freaks." He managed to stand with his awkward armload and turned away, cutting the conversation off. "Anyway. It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. You should too," he shot back over his shoulder from the bottom of the stairs, "when's the last time you got decent sleep? Your eye bags are more... bag than... eye." Bill cringed at himself. "Don— Don't say anything. I'm tired." He headed up the stairs, his umbrella hooked over his left elbow. They'd have to get that umbrella back.

Tomorrow. Ford couldn't be bothered tonight. Bill wasn't killing anybody before morning.

Ford leaned on the doorframe where he could still see Bill. "I hid your hoodie in the box of spare bedding in the loft. Under the spare pillows."

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back toward Ford. "You didn't incinerate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I assumed you'd be back here eventually. I thought you'd want it."

Bill's face was unreadable.

He turned away from Ford and continued upstairs without saying a word.

Mabel's crayon drawing of Bill—"YOU CAN CHANGE. I BELIEVE IN YOU!"—felt like it was burning a hole in Ford's pocket.

####

Saturday, 7:52 a.m.

Bill stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar and timed his exit so he walked out of the Triple Digit Truck Stop just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

Gravity Falls really was a charming little town. Behind the times. The Triple Digit Truck Stop had expanded significantly in the past decades to add a convenience store and additional amenities for travelers, but the diner that made up the heart of it had barely changed. Same patchy grassy parking lot, same giant lumberjack sculpture watching over the cars... same public pay phones around the left side of the building.

He put in a few coins, punched in the number he'd memorized, and leaned against the wall while he waited to be answered. "Hey, Sue! Guess who?" A smile curled across his face. "That's right. Hey, how many people can say they've been personally called by god?" He laughed. "My Star Boy told you what preparations to make, right? Good. It's time. Midnight. Just north of the county line. I'll see you there."

Then he hung up the phone, left the clearing around the diner, and vanished into the trees.

Unless something dramatically changed, he'd be meeting his dear devotee that night.

####

9:30 p.m.

Something had dramatically changed.

His disloyal devotee had saved him.

It was a long walk to the county line. If Bill wanted to make his midnight meeting with his cultist, he had to leave before sunset.

He was still up on the cliff when the last of the light left the valley, pacing restlessly back and forth—first toward the side of the cliff overlooking the town (he could see the Mystery Shack's roof through the trees), then toward the side aimed away from the valley, toward the county line.

He should go. He needed to go. He needed to go now. He needed to go two hours ago.

He'd spent three out of the last four days hiking all over this town's forests and caves. In the last thirty-six hours he'd barely gotten a quick nap. (In the morning, when Mabel heard that Ford had covered for Bill, she'd come straight here.) He told himself he didn't have the energy for the hike to the county line. (What if Mabel got here and couldn't find him?)

If he didn't show up tonight, surely his cultist would try again tomorrow night. He'd go tomorrow.

It was fine. Everything would work out for him. Everything always worked out for him.

####

Sunday, 4:10 p.m.

He'd been right. Mabel had come straight here. As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched her 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.

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth? Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Interesting question.

####

8:30 p.m.

It was a long walk to the county line. Bill packed his supplies—he didn't have that much to pack, he'd only ever needed enough food and shelter to last him a couple of days. He flung one backpack over each shoulder, closed and concealed the alien ship fragment, and shrunk his floating platform with the height-altering flashlight so he could wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in his second backpack.

And then, under the cover of the rain and the falling night, he began the hike north.

####

10:45 p.m.

Even to Bill's eyes, the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls was typically invisible. He could only see it where something touched it or passed through it, making waves travel out in circles from the point of contact. The circles glowed a dull coppery color at their peaks. Tonight, with the rain falling, the barrier rippled as though the rain were falling on the surface of a lake, and the whole thing glowed a faint filmy orange.

Precisely in the middle of the barrier was a sign marking the border of Roadkill County.

Ten feet beyond the barrier, just off the edge of the road, headlights and engine off and lurking beneath the trees, was a black car.

Bill walked straight through the weirdness barrier as though it wasn't even there. He didn't feel a thing.

The car engine started and the headlights turned on. Bill didn't even blink. The driver's door flew open and Sue popped out, fumbling to open an umbrella as she did. "Bill Cipher?"

"Hiya, Sue! You made it early."

"Oh, thank goodness." She hurried up to him. "I was so worried—I didn't know if I'd come to the wrong place, or if something had happened... And when I didn't hear anything from you the next day, and Gideon didn't know anything..." (Great, she'd gotten Gideon involved?) She started to offer Bill her umbrella, realized he was already holding a closed umbrella as a cane, looked up as she registered that no rain was falling on him, then stared at him in wonder.

"Yeah, sorry about that—an unavoidable emergency came up, I couldn't get out and couldn't call." And he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep. "But look at you, loyal enough to come try again the next night! You're a rare sort of human soul, you know that? This world could use more people like you."

Sue flushed with pleasure. "Oh... thank you, I..."

Bill tilted his head toward the car. "Let's not talk out in the rain, huh? Another car's coming by in about a minute, I think we shouldn't be seen."

"Right! Of course, my lord." She hurried back to the car.

"There's a terrific diner just a few minutes up the road. We can talk there, it's safe enough. Cute decor, too—have you ever seen a twenty foot tall lumberjack...?" He paused uncertainly by the car. "Hey, Sue? This'll sound silly—but I'm gonna need you to get the passenger door."

The car's interior lights flashed on as Sue opened the passenger door, long enough to catch the glittery purple nail polish on Bill's fingers. Sue gave it a curious look. Even though they'd just gotten painted three days ago, the polish was already scuffed again from his escape; but a few tiny flower stickers were still sticking to his nails.

Bill grinned. "There's a thirteen-year-old staying in the shack. Sweetest thing. She's a real artist."

"Oh! I see." A smile stretched across Sue's face. Bill suspected it wasn't for Mabel. That's right, your god's good with children. He lets little girls give him goofy manicures and proudly shows them off. Chicks dig that kind of thing.

When they were both buckled in, Sue hesitated, holding the steering wheel. "Lord Cipher... I wanted to say... if my... actions the last time we met were out of line in any way, I want to apologize—"

Bill placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and kissed her lightly. (He was so smooth. He mentally congratulated himself.) "Sorry if you got confused. I had to keep the outsider from getting suspicious, get it?"

She sucked in a small breath. "I... yes. Yes, of course."

"Don't trust anything I say or do when unbelievers are listening. The only time you can be sure I'm telling the truth..." his voice dropped to a near whisper, "is when we're alone."

He could see the goosebumps raise on her arms. "Yes, my lord."

He was so good—and his worshipers were so, so stupid. That was why they followed him. "Now, let's get to that diner, huh?"

As they got on the road, he studied his nails; to a normal human it was too dark to see, but to Bill's eyes they still glittered bright purple. The question Mabel had asked him earlier had been playing over and over in his mind all afternoon: Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Naive, trusting kid.

She really thought she was his best option.

######

"... And then, as if directly launching a psychic attack on my ethereal essence and forcing me into a mortal fleshly form wasn't bad enough," Bill said, "they imprisoned me! And get this: just to rub salt in the wound, they thought it would be funny to take a divine muse who's spent an eternity helping mortals build doorways between dimensions—and curse it so it can't open doors. I have to ask my kidnappers to open the fridge for me. Have you ever heard something so condescending?"

"Insane. That's just sadistic," Sue said. "After all you tried to do for them."

"You don't know what a comfort it is to hear a human say that."

They fell silent as someone approached. A waitress stopped next to their table. "Hey, I—Goldie!"

"Dani Miranda! Hey, how's it going! I see you found the treasure map I left you."

Dani was wearing two large gold earrings, two heavy gold necklaces each with a large gem-encrusted pendant, and four rings. "Yes, oh my gosh. I cannot believe you knew where a whole treasure chest was and you just gave it to me? That's the nicest thing ever?"

That's right, it was. "What are you doing working here! You can retire on that kind of money. Unless you want to rebury all that gold yourself?" He'd respect that.

"I'm still getting it appraised. Besides, I like talking to the late night travelers."

Bill ordered a strawberry banana shake, the monthly pancake special—which meant three quarters of the pile covered in stripes of strawberry sauce and cream cheese frosting and one quarter covered in a big puddle of blueberry sauce—floppy bacon, three eggs prepared "any way except scrambled," a cup of bleu cheese dressing, a cup of salsa, and a bottle of hot sauce. Sue ordered a water and a small grilled chicken salad.

(Bill tried to remember whether the Death Valley girls were one of his "purify the flesh by practicing harsh asceticism" cults or his "hedonistically revel in the pleasures of the senses" cults, in case he needed to make up a justification for why god was ordering pancakes instead of practicing what he preached—something something a human body containing a divine soul burns through much more energy, maybe—but no, he had the Death Valley girls on psychedelics, that was a hedonism cult. He kept them controlled through drugs, exhaustion, and poor air conditioning, not starvation. Small grilled chicken salad, indeed. The only thing stronger than cult brainwashing was diet industry brainwashing.)

When Dani was safely out of earshot, Sue lowered her voice and asked, "'Goldie'?"

"My captors decided to keep my identity secret so an angry mob won't execute me before they get the chance," Bill said. "The entire town's against the All-Seeing Eye named Bill; but only a handful know there's anything unusual about the handsome human in the Mystery Shack they've been calling Goldie."

She looked taken aback at the angry mob comment. "The entire town's against you?" Her gaze roved around the Triple Digit Truck Stop, taking in a lone trucker several tables away and a bored waiter scrolling on his phone behind the counter. "Is there anyone we can trust?"

"Gideon's on our side, of course—good kid—but, well... he isn't completely reliable. You know what happens with child celebrities. The fame and fortune spoils 'em a bit."

"I never would have guessed from his television appearances. He seems so... gracious."

Bill choked back a laugh. "He'll grow up all right—he's just going through a phase. But I'd rather not trust him with more involvement than necessary until he... matures a little."

"I understand." Sue sighed. "It's too bad the dawn of the new age didn't begin closer to us, where we could have assisted your work."

She didn't have the guts to question her god, but Bill heard the implicit question: why here? Why in some tiny tourist town that didn't even like tourists, buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere, amongst the ignorant ungrateful masses? "Yeah—too bad," Bill agreed with a shrug. "But hey, I didn't choose where the veil between worlds would be thinnest! There's energy in this town like nowhere else on your planet. It's the only place where a machine built with modern human technology is strong enough to punch through dimensions—and that's with the help of extraterrestrial equipment."

Besides, he didn't like Death Valley.

Dani returned from the kitchen. "One chicken salad, and one breakfast combo with the pancakes of the month."

"Great! I'm starving." Bill picked up the little plastic cup of salsa and dumped it into his shake. Sue choked on her water.

Dani's brows shot up. "Is—is that good?"

"What can I say, I've got the palate of an alien." (Sue choked on the sip she'd taken to recover from her first sip of water.) Bill poured the bleu cheese over his eggs, then started drizzling hot sauce on his pancakes. "Anyway, it keeps people from stealing my food."

"I guess so!" Dani laughed. She hovered near their table a little too long; and then she said, "Okay, I've got to ask: how did you know where to find buried treasure? I mean...!"

"I know lots of things." He fought down a smirk. "I happen to be psychic."

"No way." But she looked curious. She wanted to believe.

Bill had had a hunch that giving her that treasure would pay off. Nice to know his understanding of human nature was still sharp, even when he couldn't double-check the far future to see how his meddling would turn out. "If I wasn't psychic, would I have known your last name? Or where that treasure chest was?" he asked. "Or that you keep three pictures of tarantulas and a Canadian twenty in your wallet? Or that you have recurring dreams of trying to hide in sewer manholes from a fire-breathing dragon?" While he waited for her to process that, he triumphantly dug into his pancakes. He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating much more before his food got cold.

Dani's smile had disappeared. The blood drained from her face. "How...?"

"I'm... let's say, connected to a higher plain. I can see dimensions most humans can't."

"It's true," Sue piped up. (Bill took the opportunity to dig into an egg. Oh, the bleu cheese was a great choice.) "The insights h—she's offered me and so many others have been... life-changing. World-changing." Good girl.

"Insights?" Dani asked weakly.

Bill shrugged modestly. "You could call me a 'spiritual teacher,' I suppose, but that makes it sound like I'm preaching some kind of religion! All I do is teach people what I know and tell people what I see if I think it'll help 'em. Like if I see a bunch of buried gold that could change the life of a nice kid working minimum wage."

Dani reflexively touched one of her necklaces.

"You didn't think going to parties in togas was my full-time job, did you?" Bill laughed.

Dani laughed feebly too. She hadn't moved away. She was closer now, her thigh leaning against the edge of the table. "That's... wow. I've never met an actual psychic before. I mean—I went to one of Lil Gideon's live shows, but that was before the big scandal and his arrest."

"You hate to see a pillar of the community go down like that, don't you?"

"What..." Dani swallowed hard, lowered her voice, and asked, "What kinds of things does a psychic 'teach'?"

Got her. "It depends! Everyone's got different lessons they need to learn, right?" He slid out of his seat, nodded toward Sue, and said, "Excuse me ladies—I'd love to elaborate, but I'm afraid I need to hit the restroom. Sue, why don't you tell her what you've learned about, give her a concrete idea of what I do."

"It would be my honor."

As Bill passed Sue, he leaned over and whispered, "Don't mention triangles." And then he got out of her way, to let Sue do what his Death Valley girls did best.

####

When he returned to his seat, Sue leaned over the table and murmured, "I got her phone number and email."

"Good work. I bet she'd be an easy recruit."

"I bet. She's already asking how much lessons cost."

"What'd you say?"

"You offer your help to others for free, but cover your living expenses and travel costs with donations."

"Attagirl." It had been easier to use that line when he was a triangle—of course our great mentor and muse doesn't need money, he's above such earthly concerns; his mortal devotees who spread his word, though, subsist on donations... It was better for his image. They'd just have to modify their fundraising pitch for a while. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I invited you to this diner. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Sue's face. "I'll follow up with her by phone. It's a pity we don't have enough time to really put the pressure on her in person."

"Why not? I bet we'd win her over in less than a week."

"I've already contacted the main compound in Death Valley. We've got plane tickets for first thing in the morning."

(Bill's blood ran cold. Somehow, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that escaping Gravity Falls meant leaving Gravity Falls.)

"I have a motel room a few towns over, it was the closest I could find to Gravity Falls," Sue went on. "It's a straight shot to the Portland airport in the morning. Everyone's so excited—"

"Hold on," Bill said, figuring out what he was about to say next as he went. "There's been a last minute change of plans. I'm staying in Gravity Falls."

Sue stared at him. "But—my lord! You're a prisoner here, why wouldn't you come home to the people who love you?"

Love you, love you, love you. The word love alone was nearly enough to make him change his mind again. How he missed being revered. He could picture them now, these zealots who adored him so much they'd willingly bend their bodies into a throne to lift him up—and he didn't even need to turn them to stone first. It would be so easy to get away from all his human enemies forever...

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?

He shook his head. "Two reasons," he said. "One: no matter what, eventually I'll have to come back. The Age of the Triangle can only dawn in Gravity Falls. Staying makes it that much easier to get things started again. And two... I'm—working on a couple of potential recruits." He was? Wow. He was impressed at himself.

"You mean Gideon, or...?"

"No, others. One's the girl who helped me escape." He drummed his fingers on the table, calling attention to his purple fingernails. "She's a good kid. Lots of potential. Could be a real leader someday—she's a natural fit for our new world. She's got a few strings, but I'm working on helping her untie 'em."

Strings was a term that Mary, the leader of the Death Valley compound, had come up with and spread to the other girls: it meant petty mortal concerns that could tangle and tie you up, dragging you away from pursuing true spiritual growth and preparing for a better, liberated world. Your childhood religious beliefs were a string. The misguided ideas about morality you learned from the secular world were a string. Your job was a string. Your spouse was a string. Your family was a lot of strings. The intervention where your friends sat you down and told you they were worried about how much you'd changed lately and they were afraid you'd joined some kind of cult was a string. You had to cut them all.

And then Bill could tie on his puppet strings in their place.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. Fourteen at the end of the summer."

"Oh, wow—younger than I thought. That's great, kids are more open-minded," Sue said. "Though if she decides to join, it'll be hard to get her away from her family without a kidnapping charge..."

"Ugh, you don't need to remind me. I remember how we almost lost Karen and Jennifer. The legal system in this country is a mess." Bill had needed to torture that divorce court judge with nightmares for weeks before he caved and awarded Jennifer's mother sole custody so they could move to the Death Valley compound together. "But hey, got some good news: the other potential recruit. You remember the 'ex-cultist' who gave you gals my location. He turned on the humans who are pushing to execute me. He's almost back on our side. And he just so happens to be the girl's great-uncle. The family trusts him. If we can get 'em to pass her to him as her guardian, then she's ours. We can work out how to get her to the compound later." That was a lie. Bill was never handing Mabel to the Death Valley girls. She was better than them.

Sue looked less enthusiastic for this ex-cultist than she had for the girl. "Is he one of your captors...?"

Bill waved off her concerns, frowning. "Look. He's obviously been corrupted by the outside world. I lost contact with him for thirty years and he came back with more strings than a mop head. But I don't think he's beyond purification. He's already shown major improvement, now that he's once again under the shining light of my influence."

"But, this town..." Sue shook her head doubtfully. "Cipher, my lord, they nearly killed you once. You'd risk staying just to try to recruit two people? One who's already betrayed you—?"

"Yes!" Bill snapped. Sue flinched. "They're worth it." (He didn't question his own vehemence, his own anger at their value being doubted. He rarely questioned himself. If he asked questions, he might get answers.) "Don't you dare let this face fool you—I'm still your all-seeing god and I know what I'm doing better than you do. These two are perfect. The Age of the Triangle needs them. The traitor will repent. He WILL worship me again."

Sue stared at him with wide eyes; for a split second her breath froze in fear. She gave him a tiny nod. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Dani appeared at their table again. "Hey, how was everything?"

And Bill was immediately all good cheer. "Terrific, thanks!"

"Great!"

As Sue reached for her wallet, Dani waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it—it's on the house." She winked. "I think I can afford to cover it."

Already making donations to the cause. Pretty soon all the profits from her treasure chest would be in one of Bill's bank accounts.

As they headed back out into the rain, Sue said, "So, we're staying in town at least long enough to pick up another three recruits?"

"Maybe four," Bill said. "There's another kid in town I think needs some help finding a direction."

"Another? Is this one old enough to leave home alone?"

"Not for a couple more years—but she's dying to get out just as fast as she can," Bill said. "I think you can handle her."

####

They parked just up the road from the Mystery Shack and turned the headlights off.

"Here's everything Gideon said you wanted," Sue said, handing over a paper bag. "Candles, matchbook, knife, pens, spare notebooks, five thousand dollars, a burner phone, new clothes..."

Bill pulled out a flashy golden sequin-covered coat. "Oooh!" He dug around until he also found a button-up shirt and a pair of black opera gloves. He shrugged on the shirt.

"That's... what Gideon said you requested, right?" Sue eyed the tacky, gaudy coat uncertainly.

"As long as I'm in this body, I don't have the benefit of showing up glowing in people's dreams when I have something they need to hear! I need to make them pay attention any way I can." Also, normal people had boring tastes and sequins were fantastic. He buttoned up the shirt.

"I also brought—I—thought you might want..." She held out a large pendant on a thin chain. It was an eye inscribed inside a triangle inscribed inside a circle; rays radiated out from the eye, as though it were the sun. Bill's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of it.

He realized this was the first time since his death that he'd seen his own face in any form other than a thirteen-year-old's artwork—and his own corpse. His face was ubiquitous on this planet; it was plastered on everything from money to buildings to common consumer goods. Its conspicuous absence in Gravity Falls was uncanny.

"I'm not sure if it's inappropriate—"

"It's perfect." Bill snatched the necklace from her and fiddled with the clasp until he got it on. "Exactly what I need. What did I always say about your intuition?" He considered the gloves, decided he wasn't ready to pull them on quite yet, and shrugged on the coat instead.

She restrained a pleased smile at the flattery. "Thank you, my lord."

She looked out the windshield. Just up the road was a flock of wooden signs and arrows pointing which way to turn to reach the Mystery Shack. Bill wondered whether Sue's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see their silhouettes. Sue said, "If you're not coming back to us yet, then I suppose it's time to..."

"Hold on a minute," Bill said. "You've been a bigger help tonight than you know. If it weren't for your loyalty and diligence, I wouldn't have been able to consider escaping." Blah blah blah. The truth was he'd been soaking in her reverence for the past hour and a half, like a dehydrated cactus under a cloudburst, and he wasn't leaving until he'd sucked every drop from her. "There isn't a lot I can do for you right now, trapped in this form, but you deserve a reward." He leaned toward her, his elbow against her car seat, hand on the headrest. "Let me express my gratitude the way I would have if we hadn't been interrupted during our last meeting." He tilted his head toward the back seat.

She froze as she processed the offer; and then she leaned in to kiss him hungrily.

####

"The tide's changing in this town," Bill said, pulling on his gloves, smoothing his hair back into place, putting his new coat back on. "The dawn is coming. You should stay in town now that our enemies are losing their teeth."

"Yes, Lord Cipher," she said breathlessly, still trying to get her wits about her.

(From what Bill had eavesdropped between her and Dani while he was pretending to be in the restroom, he was right that she'd been one of his "dissatisfied housewife" converts. This was probably the first time she'd ever been touched by somebody who understood anatomy. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to return the favor. But he'd been touched by reverent hands, he'd tasted tears, he'd heard a voice whine "Bill, my god, my god, my god—" That would have to hold him for a while.)

"And ditch the rental. Buy a used car," Bill said. "There's a place in town called Gleeful Auto Sales. Ask Bud for the best car on the lot, pay whatever he asks—and tell him Mr. Locke sent you."

"'Gleeful' as in...?"

"His father. My Star Boy was the only person in town who supported me—and the town's turned on his family for it. They could use our help."

Sue pursed her lips in displeasure. "Of course."

Bill gestured toward his door. "I think we've put this off long enough."

While he waited for her to get his door, he slung his two backpacks over each shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "'Coffee break's over; back on your heads.'"

Sue opened the door; he picked up his umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

As he walked back to his prison, he tucked his necklace beneath his shirt.

Bill reminded himself that he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Ford had thrown away the one shot that could have killed him. He was safe.

####

1:20 a.m.

As Stan followed Ford into his underground study, he shot a glance at the barren far end of the room. He grumbled, "Nice to see you haven't started putting triangle posters back up."

"I'm not..." Ford sighed in irritation. "Never mind."

"So what's so important that you had to drag me down to your nerd cave? If this isn't good—"

"I didn't waste our shot."

"What?"

At his metal worktable, Ford unlatched the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case and opened it. "You said I wasted the only fuel we had. I didn't." He detached the NowUSeeitNowUDontium's fuel tank and held it out. The needle on the side indicated it was about a quarter full—nowhere near its full capacity, but enough for one shot, and just as much as they'd brought home from Fiddleford's.

Stan gaped. "But... hold on—we saw that shot through the walls. How the heck did you fake...?"

"Before he started developing a process to generate Dontium, Fiddleford came up with a power adaptor that could plug into the town's electricity." Ford picked up the power cord wound up in the carrying case. "He determined that it only gave the Destabilizer enough power to operate like a laser, not destroy matter and energy, so we still needed to develop the Dontium... but, I still had the cord on hand."

####

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

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.

He slid out its fuel tank, returned it to the case, and pulled out the cord.

He climbed down to the bedroom; unplugged the room's air conditioning unit from its dedicated higher voltage wall socket; and plugged in the Quantum Destabilizer's cord.

In the loft, trying to figure out how to plug the other end of the cord into the Quantum Destabilizer, he was suddenly struck by the hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around; the eye on Bill's hood stared at him resentfully.

Ford stared back at it a moment; then he stood, pulled the hoodie off the dummy, and stuffed it into a nearby box.

He knelt. He plugged in the cable. He carefully lined up the shot with the dummy.

He fired.

####

12:09 p.m.

The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still as the unplugged air conditioning unit fell silent. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.

Every light in the house went out as the Quantum Destabilizer's power adapter drained every drop of electricity in town.

####

12:10 p.m.

The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. There was a pile of ashes three feet in front of Ford's knees.

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:

The Quantum Destabilizer, at full power, completely destroyed all matter and energy.

It didn't leave behind ashes.

####

Monday, 1:23 a.m.

Ford said, "Bill left a letter in the attic asking me to help cover his getaway. If I didn't fire the gun, Bill would have known I'd told you he escaped. But if he could see the Quantum Destabilizer firing, he'd think I'd chosen his side. The only way to lure him back to the shack was by making him think I'd used up the only substance we have that could destroy him." He muttered, "Granted, I'd assumed he'd try to contact me secretly rather than knock on the door in the middle of the night, but..."

Stan gaped at Ford. Then he burst into loud laughter. "Sixer, you tricky sonova! I don't believe it!" He socked his arm. "I oughta retire from the conning business and hand it over to you!"

A smile slowly crept up Ford's face.

Stan pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "So we can go up there and finish him off now, right? Just wait for him to fall asleep, and...?"

Ford's smile disappeared. "No."

"N—What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I..." He took a deep breath as he chose his words. "I was serious, earlier, when I... said I want to give him a chance."

"Wh—? Still? Ford, come on, you can't think he deserves it?"

"No. Of course not. Not even close." Ford didn't hesitate. "But... does he need to deserve a chance to get one? I wonder if maybe Mabel's on to something. If he could be better, he can't show us unless we give him the second chance—before he's earned it." He sounded like a lunatic. "He can't earn it if he's dead."

Stan looked for a moment like he wanted to argue; and then something painful flashed through his eyes; and then he looked away from Ford, scowling to himself as he thought. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Darn it, I don't wanna do it either. The creep's actually starting to grow on me. Like some kind of foot fungus."

Ford huffed. "What's important is, if we give him a chance and he throws it away, I haven't left us unarmed." He gestured to the unplugged fuel tank.

Stan looked at the tank; then looked at Ford. "You could've told us about the power cord trick yesterday, and you didn't." Stan crossed his arms. "Be honest. Do you really think, if it came down to it, you'd be able to pull the trigger now?"

"No." And again Ford didn't hesitate. "I want to believe I could; but I... don't trust myself. Yesterday morning, I never would have thought I'd decide against executing him for any reason. I know Bill's playing games with me, and yet I'm still playing along—so what else might I do?" He shrugged helplessly. He hated that Bill could still take control of his mind—even when he couldn't physically get inside it. "To some extent, he's gotten into all our heads."

Stan grimaced, but he didn't argue.

"That's why I think Fiddleford should keep the Quantum Destabilizer. He's never been taken in by Bill's tricks. If it becomes necessary, he won't hesitate."

"You know the situation's bad when Old Man McGucket's the voice of reason," Stan muttered. "But, I like that idea.  We can drop it off with him in the morning."

Ford sighed. "He's probably spent the last two days thinking Bill's dead. He won't be happy to see us."

As they walked back to the elevator, Stan said, "Maybe leaving Bill alive isn't an end-of-the-world bad idea. How much trouble can he get in when he can't escape that magic barrier around town?"

"That's true," Ford said. "He's essentially harmless—at least to the rest of the universe."

Ford didn't have anything to be afraid of. Bill was trapped in the weirdness barrier; and he couldn't even leave the shack without help. They were safe.

####

As fancy as his new coat looked, Bill was was grateful to crawl back into the comfortingly formless body-obscuring shelter of his hoodie. He pulled his hood over his face, curled up on his usual cushions (sigh) in his usual spot (sigh), and quickly fell asleep.

And began to dream.

And, in his dream, saw through his nearby eyes.

In his sleep, he could see the attic from where he lay on his cushions. He sat up, realized his vision was crooked, straightened out his hood, and stood; and he began sleepwalking.

He crept silently downstairs. He walked backwards into the gift shop. He walked up to a spinning rack of keychains that Soos had set up on the display case, took off his necklace, and hung it from one of the hooks.

He pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof.

Bill was very good at lying. Bill was very good at lying to himself. No, that wasn't true—Bill had never lied to himself in his life, and he was willing to kill anyone who tried to say he had. Bill didn't tell himself lies; he told himself what should be the truth. Believing in a new reality was the first step toward making it real. All you had to do was lie until you weren't lying anymore—and then, you'd never lied at all. It was very simple.

He'd spent billions of years swimming in and out of dreams, until he was more comfortable with how reality worked in dreams than he was with how reality worked in actual reality; and there was no other state of existence where the line between truth and lie was blurriest. Unlike the physical world, where altering reality tended to require a little more actual work, in a dream, lying until it came true really was as simple as thinking about your new truth.

That was all it took. One bright, lucid thought to shine order through the confused fog of the subconscious.

Bill was getting good at lucid dreaming.

Bill was dreaming now.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy called the trap doors in the ceiling "roof lids."

No, that wasn't true. A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy call the roof lids "roof lids," because that was what they were. Bill couldn't open doors, didn't have the first idea of what to do with a door, but he could open lids. Jar lids. Pot lids. Toilet lids. He'd practiced with toilet lids—they had hinges, that made them the most similar to roof lids. If he could open all those lids, he could open these lids.

As he stared, the trap doors changed, in the way that dream images had of swimming and shifting dizzily before your eyes, into roof lids.

He climbed the ladder, pushed up the roof lid, climbed through; and then opened the second one that led onto the roof. He moved so silently. The rickety rungs and old wooden boards didn't even creak beneath his footsteps. He climbed out, sleepwalked his way to the roof hangout spot, and jumped off the roof.

He descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the ground, as though gravity hardly touched him.

Almost a month ago, on his birthday, Stan had taken off his gold chain and chucked it off into the forest so he could put on his birthday gift instead. Bill had watched enviously from the window. Now, triumphantly, he scooped up the long-coveted chain and wrapped it several times around his wrist.

And then he went to the tree where he'd hung up his second backpack full of contraband and retrieved it.

There were several pine trees right next to the shack. As near-weightless as Bill was in his dream, it was easy for him to climb one of the trees and get back on the roof.

In the gift shop, the vending machine swung open as Stan and Ford returned to the house level. They went into the living room, heading toward bed. The All-Seeing Eye hanging on the keychain rack watched as the door swung shut behind them. After waiting a few more seconds to ensure they were gone, Bill slid down onto the ladder, shut the roof lid, and jumped noiselessly to the floor. He retrieved his necklace from the keychain rack.

This was a vending machine. It wasn't a door. It clearly wasn't a door. Bill punched in the vending machine's code and stepped back as it swung aside for him. He crept down the stairs.

This was an elevator. The elevator had doors, and he didn't know how to open them, but he wasn't worrying about those. The doors would sort themselves out somehow. All he cared about was the elevator. He was NOT trying to open the doors. He wasn't even thinking about opening the doors. He pushed the button to call the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. See, just like he'd thought: the doors took care of themselves.

He pushed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid shut.

As he rode down, he wove his new necklace's thin chain between the links of Stan's much thicker chain. Oh yeah. That looked much better. 

The doors opened again into the interdimensional portal's control room.

He put on his necklace and stepped out. It was about time he made it back here. Bill really should have taken more time to check this place out at the start of summer. Why had he been in such a rush to kill the Pines? He'd had time travel. He could have rebuilt the entire portal by himself, won the lotto in Texas, spent a week in a seven star hotel, watched the Titanic sink, become President Trembley's First Lady, gotten Mysterious Mo's autograph, planted a NASA rocket in an Aztec temple just to give those ancient alien morons an undeserved but funny win, and then come back to finish the job.

Well, hindsight, whatever. At least he had a list of things to do if he ever got his hands on that time tape again. Anyway, he was back now.

He didn't think he'd need to be asleep to get back into the gift shop, and he probably needed his full brain turned on for the task ahead. He pulled his hood off, opened his eyes, and woke up.

The world looked so much less malleable.

He fished a notebook and red and black pens from his backpack, picked his way through the rubble of the portal, and began taking notes in Plaintext on how many parts were salvageable. Every few minutes, he flipped a page forward to begin work on blueprints for a new portal.

####

(And that concludes... season 1. idk out of how many seasons, but it sure feels like a season finale, don't it?

Next week's The Book Of Bill y'all! I'll be posting a chapter, but which chapter depends on TBOB. If TBOB is either compatible with the backstory I've got for Bill, or so wildly incompatible that there's no way I can reconcile my backstory so don't bother trying, I'll be posting a flashback chapter! But if TBOB is compatible enough that i MIGHT be able to reconcile it with my backstory with a lot of editing, I'll be posting the first chapter of "season 2" to give me time to edit the flashback. We'll find out next Tuesday!

In the meantime, a whole lot happened in this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think—about this chapter, about everything that's happened so far, about what's coming up, whatever!)

[angel-sweets666]

Purple n orange

shinbaku x fem!reader

Two boys and a girl are in a poly relationship. One day bakugo and shinso come home with ruined moods from the god awful day they had.

Warnings: swearing and bakugos temper tantrums

a/n do I know this ship is the most unlikely ship known to man? Yes. Do I love these two boys and think they’d make a great pair for a poly relationship? Yep. I MEAN THEY JUST SEEM LIKE IT COULD WORK, MAYBE. MAYBEEES🤔🤔

Bakugo slammed open the door to your shared home, the force of it rattling the walls. You jumped, startled by the sudden noise. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh, Katsu?" you grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

He snapped his head toward you so quickly that you thought he might have given himself whiplash. "I wish Deku would wake up on the wrong side of the road!" he exclaimed, stomping his feet angrily. His face was flushed with rage, his eyes practically blazing.

Shinso followed behind him, looking more annoyed than angry. His shoulders were slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh as he closed the door more gently behind him.

"What's wrong, love?" you asked Shinso, your voice soft and soothing. He crawled into your arms, seeking comfort, and laid his head on your chest.

"I risk my life out there, and those people don't appreciate me," he pouted, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in a rare show of vulnerability.

Bakugo's rage flared even more at Shinso's words. "Hah? They’re just pieces of shit! I'LL BLOW THEM U—"

"I'm begging you to learn what an inside voice is," you interrupted, giving Bakugo a stern look.

He huffed, crossing his arms and pacing the room like a caged animal. "It pisses me off, alright? We put everything on the line, and they don't give a damn!"

You nodded, understanding his frustration. "I know, Katsu. It's not fair, but blowing up the house won't help."

Shinso snuggled closer, his breathing starting to even out as he relaxed in your embrace. "You're right. It just feels like no matter what we do, it's never enough for them," he said, his voice muffled against your chest.

You stroked his hair gently, trying to provide some comfort. "You both do so much. Sometimes people don't see that, but it doesn't make your efforts any less valuable."

Bakugo stopped pacing and looked at you, his anger slowly dissipating. He walked over and sat down beside you and Shinso, his presence comforting in its own way. "Tch, you're too good to us," he muttered, a hint of gratitude in his voice.

“I’m amazing I know” you said with a cocky grin, wrapping your legs around shinso as you seemed pleased with yourself.

You made a disgusted face as you took a sniff at Shinso's hair. "Katsuki, come here," you called, waving Bakugo over. He looked at you curiously but yelped in surprise as you grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him close to take a sniff as well.

"Okay, so you two stink like pure fucking ass," you declared, your nose wrinkling in disgust. "I'm begging you on my knees to have a shower. A bath. Even some deodorant. SOMETHING. Did a villain shit on you or something!?"

Bakugo's eyebrows furrowed, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. "HAH?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STINKS LIKE ASS," he retorted, stomping his foot like a petulant child.

Shinso groaned as he sat up, rubbing his temples. "I have a headache," he muttered, clearly not in the mood for Bakugo's antics. He stood up, still looking like he wanted a cuddle but preferably from someone who wouldn’t say he stinks like ass.

With a weary sigh, Shinso walked into Bakugo's arms, surprising the blonde who blushed deeply at the unexpected closeness. Bakugo hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Shinso, a soft, almost tender gesture. He took a tentative sniff and grimaced.

"Okay, we do stink like shit," Bakugo admitted, his voice quieter now.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of them. "See? Now, go take a shower, both of you. You'll feel a lot better.

[timdrakesmissingnotebook]

Scolds and Red Tulips

summary: damian wayne doesn't think he ever had a crush until, of course, you scold him for the first time.

pairing: damian wayne x reader

notes: okay so, maybe i liked writing these type of fics, they are fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian doesn't notice at first.

He didn't notice how he started looking out for you on that crowd of students, or how he began to find new topics to discuss with you.

He never notice how he would steal glances at you, or how sweety his palms felt when you were around.

He didn't notice until after he almost beat a boy up because he was trying to get your biology project topic.

God, he was so stupid.

"He started it, (y/l)." He mutters, looking down at his shoes.

You sigh and put a hand over your forehead, "I know. But you could've talked to Ms. Halle, Damian."

"I fight my own battles." He spits, raising his chin, "I do not need the help of a teacher."

"You were going to punch him because he got our subject." You deadpan, rolling your eyes. Putting an accusing finger on his chest, you say angrily, "I'm gonna go solve this. You stay here."

Damian watches as you turn around and stalks towards the classroom again and feels his face flush a deep scarlet red, and not because he was angry.

And just like that, Damian Wayne realized he was head over heels for you.

_______________________II_______________________

"Richard, Cassandra, I request your help. Now." Damian says, grabbing both of his siblings arms and fleeting to his room, ignoring the weird glance his father gave them.

"Hey, what is going on, Little D?" Dick asks, receiving a nod from Cassandra when the three entered the youngest room.

Damian just shoves both inside, quickly locking the door behind them. The boy just stands there for a minute, a hand on the round hand as he tries to calm his rapid breathing.

"Baby brother?" He hears his older sister calls out and suddenly he turns around to face both.

"I have been... Compromised."

"What?" Dick inquires, stepping closer to him, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Of course I am not!" The younger groans, "I don't even know how it happened!"

Cassandra tilts her head and scans him from head to toe, "What happened?"

"I almost punched someone-" Damian starts, ignoring Dick frown, "I was just trying to help and then she- she started telling me off! And my face started to burn and my heart started to beat faster and- I'm so stupid, how didn't I notice it before?"

"You have a crush." Cassandra states, crossing her arms.

"I do not have a crush!" Damian stomps, feeling his face flush again. He turns his eyes to his feet, then to his siblings, "I don't do I?'

Dick stares at him for a few moments and a gentle smile creeps onto his lips, "You do."

Damian freezes, his heart skipping a beat.

This can't be happening. No. Fucking. Way.

"Are you gonna do anything about it?" His sister asks and he finds himself without an answer.

"I don't know. Should I?" Damian replies and frowns, "I don't- I don't even know if she interested on me."

"I think you should." Dick nods again, "How will you know if you don't even try."

Cassie hums in agreement and brings a hand to ruffle the boy's curls, "Do something. I feel like you will have a surprise."

Damian glances between two and feels himself nod, a determined expression painted creeping on his face, "Yeah, okay. I need to go search for a flower shop."

_______________________II_______________________

Damian felt his hands start to tremble as he spotted you at the end of the hallway.

The, rather comically, large bouquet of red tulips feels suddenly heavy on his hands.

Closing his eyes, Damian breaths heavily and mutters to himself, "Okay, okay, I can do this."

He walks towards you with quick steps, taps your shoulder lightly and when you turn around he shoves the bouquet on your face.

Looking at the bouquet and then back up at him, you ask puzzled, "Um, hi."

"Hey." He replies, still looking down.

"What is, um, this?"

"For you." He frowns and finally looks up at you, "You don't like them?"

"I- I do." You say, a small smile creeping on your face as you gently grab the flowers. Bring them towards your nose, "They smell amazing, thank you."

Damian glances up at you, a blush covering his cheeks, "You're welcome."

"So, is something going on?" You ask, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Not that I don't like them, I just- This is kinda random."

"I... came to a realization yesterday." He breaths out.

"And that is.." You prompt him to continue.

"I like you, (y/n)." He says, looking down again, "And I've been liking you for a very long time. You are sweet, and smart, and kind, and, with all due respect, the most beautiful person I have ever met, so, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm totally enchanted by you."

You stare at him, a blush rapidly creeping onto your face and the grip on the bouquet a tad harder, "Oh."

Damian sighs and meets your eyes again, "(y/n) (y/l), do you want to go on a date with me?"

You two stare at each other, both faces crimson red. You look down and let out a soft chuckle fall from your lips. Looking up again, you nod your head, "I'd love to go on a date with you."

Damian shoulders fall from relief and he smiles, "Perfect."

"Perfect." You repeat, and tilt your head again, "And just for the record, I like you too."

Damian comes home that afternoon with a smile on his face and if he saw Richard and Cassandra giving each other a fist bump, he doesn't say anything.

[ajortga]

bear hugs

pairing: tara carpenter x pouty reader

summary: you can't fall asleep until your nestled in your girlfriends arms and kisses.

word count: 600+ (drabble)

It's been 30 minutes, and you can't sleep without feeling your girlfriend by your side.

"Y/N, I still have homework sunshine, I promise we can cuddle when I finish, it'll only take me 15 minutes."

A whine pasts your lips as you kick your feet on your bed, the only light from the salt lamps, fairy lights, and night light.

"Pleeeeaseeee"

She giggles, pressing her lips to your forehead, "Soon baby."

"Nooooo," you groan, sleepily as you twist and turn in bed, "Whyyy can't youuuu?"

"I just need to finish this baby, I'll almost be done," she coaxes, opening her laptop and clicking away.

You grunt putting on your most innocent look as your curled up into bed and watching her every move, "Pleaseeee? For me??.."

Tara doesn't even turn around, making you angry, well from this angle you just looked even cuter.

"It's not due till Wednesday, it's Monday. Tara baby pleasee it's not fairrrr.."

She hums, typing.

"You hate me," you say, getting out of bed and wrapping the blanket around you. You look like a grumpy child that got rejected from getting a stuffy at the toy store. You murmur angrily, making a small stomp before leaving the door. Tara hums.

Tara waited 5 small moments before she heard your footsteps and opened the door again, to see your tiny figure trod back to the bed, "Too cold, changed my mind." You say, voice a tiny as you don't look at Tara. Obviously mad.

A soft giggle past her lips, shaking her head as you flop into bed, groaning and complaining.

"I just want to cuddle with my girlfriend," you pout, stomping your leg and turning off your salt lamp. You turn away from her and cover yourself with a blanket, huffing. "Hmph, see if I care."

You care, too much. You had a bad day and you want your girlfriend who currently is not paying attention to you. You face the wall, arms crossed, "No fair."

You hear a sigh come out from her, her laptop immediately closing, "You know I can't say no to that," Tara whispers softly to herself. She slips on her t-shirt and some shorts as she crawls into bed, seeing the way your small figure wrapped in a blankety burrito. She untangles yourself from the blanket, seeing your tiny figure in a laced tank top and the fluffy heart pajama pants she gifted to you. Tara shuffles into the warmth of the blanket, seeing the way you shifted slightly.

"I'll cuddle with you," she whispers, pressing her lips to your ear and seeing the way you immediately turned around and scooted into her embrace, exhaling in happiness.

"Do that stupid assignment tomorrow, I can't sleep without you here," you say, looking sad as she plays with your hair and scratches your scalp, making you coo.

"Okay okay," she laughs breathily, "I'll ask Mindy to finish it, I know she took answers from Anika, but hush, you haven't been able to sleep for the past hour."

You murmur, breathing in her scent that immediately comforts you. A soft yawn passes your lips, "Because..." yawn "I can't fall asleep without my girlfriend.." your voice trails off, slowly growing sleepy.

"I know, but I'm here now, go to sleep," she whispers, kissing your lips softly before spooning you, you turn back around and nuzzle into her chest. She rubs circles behind your back, knowing the way it makes you fall asleep much quicker.

No longer than 3 minutes later does a soft snore sound throughout the room, making Tara smile and turn off the light before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you closer.

[bunnyrafe]

♥︎ 𝓃otes: @nemesyaaa was wondering what exactly would happen if soft pogue!reader raised her voice at father figure bf!rafe a few days ago and i just had to write it out.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. a toxic side to father figure bf!rafe, f!reader, choking, manipulation, crying, use of dad.

“i’m a fucking adult, rafe!”

you’ve never dared to yell at him. maybe you’ve whined and stomped your feet a bit before, but not once have you thrown your hands up and screamed at him in the middle of an argument. it makes his eyes go wide, makes his hands tremble with the need to grab you— and not in a comforting or soothing way, either.

he steps closer, and he decides that he isn’t going to give in and shout back but he does wrap a strong hand around your throat and shakes you around when you struggle in his grip. you’re angrily clawing at his wrist while he forces you to look at him, “you think you’ve got it all figured out? think y’can make your own decisions and survive on your own, without my fuckin’ help? then pack your shit and get out of my fuckin’ house.”

the way your eyes well with tears is instant.

rafe is controlling. he’s strict and so mean when he wants to be, but not once did you think he’d ever kick you out or entertain the idea. you can only stare at him in disbelief, whilst a whole other wave of emotions crashes over you. you suppose maybe it’s all your fault. if you had just listened and understood that when he tells you no he means it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“i don’t— i’m sorry—” you’re blubbering out your words, struggling to say them through tears, “i can’t live without you.”

at that, rafe sighs through his nose. he realizes he’s gone too far but hey, if that’s what it takes to get you to listen then so bet it. his grip around your throat lets up and he opts to cradle the side of you face instead, cooing softly when you nuzzle your wet cheek into his palm for what you think may be the last time.

“yeah— i know you can’t, baby.” his tone is gentle once again, prompting you to feel some relief as he carries on. his thumb runs over your cheekbone, “that’s why you gotta listen to dad when he says no… understand? no reason to throw a fuckin’ tantrum.”

“i know, daddy…”

you can’t find it in you to say much else before he finally takes you in his arms and sways you back ‘n forth a bit, giving you the cue to shut your brain off and let him help you feel better…

[pedge-page]

Joel and Preggo Wife: Baby Talk with Sarah

- - - -

Joel's flexible schedule now owning his own company means he can spend way more time with Sarah. She's still so little, he can't stop taking pictures of her smiley face and fat body sat up in her high chair.

"How bout some lunch kiddo?"

She bounces up and down and slaps her fat wrists on the tabletop excitedly.

Joel scoops some spaghetti strands into her open mouth. He finds himself mimicking her little jaw chewing movements and parting his lips each new spoonful he puts in her mouth.

Sarah rubs her hand in circular motion under her chest.

"What you got sommthin on your chin?"

Joel wets a napkin with his tongue and dabs off the small specs of sauce from her cheeks and chin.

But she continues to rub her hand clockwise. "There's nothing there kid."

She does it again, pinching her fingers now and then rubbing a clockwise circle.

Joel drops the spoon and gets on his knee, patting her chest, cheeks, chin, any possible area that could have some invisible stain that's clearly bothering her.

"Where??" He asks curiously. He lightly grips her fat cheeks and tilts her head side to side, Inspecting closely for any food that might be lodged under all the rolls of fat in her neck.

She starts growling at him angrily, repeating the two motions.

"Don't you get attitudinal with me! There's nothing to wipe!"

You come inside to see Joel furiously wiping her face like there's a sharpie mark on a whiteboard.

Joel, why are you rubbing our baby's skin off."

"She keeps saying there's something here!" He aggressively smothers her whole face with the napkin, and her poor skin is starting to get a little braised from his constant rubbing.

They're both getting frustrated with one another, blown cheeks and scowling brows.

You look over to the half eaten bowl of spaghetti then back at Sarah. She desperately pinches her fingers together and then rubs circling motions again.

"WHERE!" Joel shouts, tossing the napkin down in frustration.

"No, oh my gosh," you laugh, taking the napkin off the floor. "She's signing for "more please"".

"She's--! She's what?"

You repeat the motion: your palm over your chest and draw it in a small clockwise circle "please" and then the pinching of your fingers to your thumbs pulling towards your center "more".

You give Sarah the spoon and plastic bowl and she takes it and feeds herself happily.

"She knows sign?" He asks, intrigued but alarmed. "Is she mute? Did we have a mute kid??"

"I mean she's still a baby so. Kind of now she's not capable of talking, honey. They teach sign at the day care--"

"We have a genius level intellect child!"

"No--it's just easier for kids to communicate through sign since they haven't developed speech--"

"Shh!" He holds his finger up to your lip dramatically as he fetches a pen and paper. "I'm writing down some math equations. I bet she can solve these..."

"Joel."

Sarah pushes her half eaten cold bowl away and starts shaking her head.

"Ooh what does that mean?"

"She's just shaking her head."

"Yeah and what's that mean in sign?"

"It just means no!"

-

A year later, she's piecing together words -- in her own way.

Joel has stopped trying to understand the babbling baby talk. "She doesn't really know anything yet. I thought she was gonna be smart."

"She IS smart. She's been talking this whole time!"

He shakes his head. "Its gibberish. The whole time she was saying nonsense."

You scold him but lean down to Sarah. "What did you and Daddy do today?"

She excitedly look up to you and says: "RaRa y Dada byebyes Spooooo go foe wok n haf babas. See peep peep peeps!  y Dada gif RaRa weedadas!!"

Joel chuckles as you nod and listen to each word she says. "There's no way you understood that--"

"Oh? Daddy took Sarah and Spoon in the car for a walk and got some water? And you saw chickens?? And daddy got you balloons???"

Sarah nods furiously, stomping her feet now that SOMEONE finally gets it.

His mouth is hanging open, visually buffering in his brain at how any of those words equated to the sentence you just strung together.

"Where MeeMee?" She asks curiously.

"You right here!" Joel exclaims (he's got the hang of this now).

"No. No RaRa, MeeMee!" She says, emphasizing the last phrase like its something obvious.

"Joel, MeeMee is Tommy," you clarify.

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS."

"OK listen:  RaRa is Sarah."

"But it's not."

"But it is because that's what she's decided. Peep: chicken. Spoooooo: Spoon. Babas: water."

"What is babas."

"Its water. You drink from a bubba mug so baba is water. Weedada: balloon."

"How does that make sense."

"I don't know. Took me a bit to figure out. No idea where she got that from. Byebyes: car. Wok: walk. And MeeMee is Tommy."

Joel stares at you with questionable concern, as you fix the little clips in her hair.

"Babe, I think you're spending too much time together."

You both look up at him together with puffy lips and go "nah uhhhh."

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[b1mbodoll]

how can u say bull hoon like i’m in a crisis now. just thinking about beefy hoon being brought into a new farm and immediately becoming obsessed with the sweet little farmhand who’s in charge of collecting his seed. everyone’s always talking about how impeccable the quality of his seed is and how they’re gonna have to have him breed with the cow girls. but why would hoon go near those girls when he can just dump his load into his pretty little farmer and make her carry his calf :( just thinking about her all round and swollen with his baby has him pumping load after load into her

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + courting + oral + scent kink + strength kink + begging + jealousy + pregnancy

💌: help u sent me !!!! into a crisis im going to think about this for literally forevwr like i cant rn omfgkfsoskkfjfkskdnf i need him ps it doesnt matter what u look like i promise bull! hoon is large and in fucking charge!!!!!!!!!

bull! hoon is no stranger to sex. sometimes farmers would slap a wad of cash on his handler’s desk n he’d be sent to the field where a scared little cow hybrid was waiting for him to take what he wants, but he never did. instead he’d stay away from the heifer n do his own thing until her owner would get angry n snatch their payment, cursing sunghoon as the pair leave because how dare the bull not seduce his hybrid!!!!!!

his handler gets fed up with the constant failed breeding attempts n sends him your way, tired of dealing with such a stubborn bull. when sunghoon lays his eyes on you it’s like his personality does a complete 180. he’s no longer cold and distant n is so careful with you because ur such a tiny little thing in comparison to the buff bull.

when you try introducing him to ur sweet cow hybrids sunghoon is so distraught because he’s been courting you for weeks n this is the final nail in the coffin, he can’t keep pretending like he doesn’t wanna pound you til you’re crying. completely unaware of the bull boy’s feelings you leave the pair alone, tending to your other hybrids in the meantime.

sunghoon’s snorting and stomping his feet because he’s so angry!!! he doesn’t want to fuck a cowgirl he wants you!!!! wants to stuff you full of cum n make you a slut for his dick til all you can think about is getting bred :( sends the cowgirl back to her pen n waits for you in the pasture

when you return to check on them you’re surprised to find the bull alone, slipping into the fenced in area with him before asking, “hi hoonie, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he nearly caves at the sound of your sweet voice laced with worry, but he maintains his composure. “what’s wrong?” he snorts angrily, “what’s wrong is i’ve been tryin’ to show you i’m worthy of being your mate but you won’t give me the time of day!” the shock is evident in your face and hoon cant believe you really didnt know his intentions. “wha? hoonie i can’t be your mate! you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, y’just haven’t met the right cow!” you continue making excuses for him and he’s had enough, biceps flexing as he shoves you facefirst into the dirt.

the display of strength has your cunt dripping and you can only pray he doesn’t notice. but he’s a top hybrid, the best of the best and his sharp nose instantly picks up on your arousal. “stay down” he grunts, making sure you’re properly presenting for him before making his way behind you and tearing your shorts off with his large hands, leaving you clad only in your tiny tank top and cotton panties drenched in your juices.

your bull stuffs his face between your thighs n shoves his nose right up against your cunt, inhaling deeply and becoming obsessed with how good your pussy smells. “if y’can’t be my mate then why are you so wet, human?” you’re so embarrassed n your hole clenches around nothing at his words. “‘s normal sunghoon! what else do you expect after treating me like this?” he ignores you completely n rips your panties off, throwing them to the side before digging in, mouth slurping at your pussy like he’s fucking starving.

his tongue is so fucking long and he’s so skilled, it’s not long before you’re creaming. “you’re ready.” is all he says before lining his dick up with your sloppy cunt, filling you in one quick thrust. he moans so loud you’re sure the entire farm can hear him, feeling sorry for your hybrids because you can’t bring yourself to make him pull out. “you wanna cum again, sweetheart?” you nod your head like crazy, wanting nothing more than to milk his dick for all it’s worth. “then fucking beg.” sunghoon is a dirty pervert and you’re just as bad, begging instantly with no hesitation. “please hoonie! wanna be your breeding bitch, need your thick cum inside now! wanna cum with you n feel you impregnate me, please!” he’s in fucking heaven, cums so hard n so much it’s no wonder he’s a prized bull, fills you up so well it makes you black out.

after he makes you cum again sunghoon carries you inside, tucking you into your bed before taking his spot next to you. when you wake up the following morning your body is so sore and you still feel so full because sunghoon is insatiable and couldn’t resist fucking you til he passed out from exhaustion. as you make your way around the farm to check on your hybrids you can’t help but notice how they’re staring at you, jake, your sweet dog hybrid is even outright glaring at you because how could sunghoon get to you first? it’s only fair if he gets a turn because he was here before that damn bull!

[radfemsiren]

With the Neil Gaiman situation it’s so crazy seeing proof that the trans community does not see women as human beings.

We’ve been watching them put sympathy out for the fans of the show.

We’ve seen them defend a rapist and accuse the victims of lying, of being involved in some terf conspiracy theory, of being confused or manipulated by evil terfs.

We’ve seen them insist to not send Neil mean nasty messages because that might hurt his feelings.

We’ve seen them rant and rage about how evil are TERFs and jk Rowling and Boris Johnson and whoever they must scream about

We’ve seen them angrily stomp their feet and say this is going to make BDSM look bad , or David Tennant look bad, or trans rights look bad…

But in all of this scramble… there’s this eerie absence of any strong emotion for the victims. No consolation for them, no feelings of sadness or empathy. No “I hope they are doing ok, and can get through this…”

They really see women as nothing more than props in the stories of men.

(Btw I have screenshots and proof of every disgusting rape apologetic behavior I just listed, so click on my tag #ngreceipts and argue with a brick wall)

[angelpregdreams]

"Darlin'."

content: fpreg, vaguely-mentioned pregnancy sex, labor, fpreg birth, 1st person pov a hint of cowboy flavoring, a la croix of the wild west

wc: 2800+

tip jar

“Sloan!” 

A voice called out my name behind me, and I released a sigh as they continued to yell, even as they came closer, “c’mon, woman, just be honest with me!” 

My feet paused their stomping, and I turned in the direction I knew him to be coming from.

“There’s nothing to be honest about!” I shouted back, an annoyed huff leaving me as I crossed my arms over my chest. The action made my nipples sting at the friction and I angrily dropped my arms down. I gave Sterling a glare as he came into view, which he calmly raised his hands up in surrender in response. 

“Fuck, nothing to be honest about?” Sterling muttered, his dark brows raised incredulously. “Are you serious?” 

Shaking my head, I felt tears pool in my eyes at his raised voice, I hated when he spoke down to me. His fucking accent made him sound even more condescending, which only served to infuriate me more. I grumbled unhappily, angry at myself for the tears and for him being annoying, “just leave me alone! You’ve been badgering me for the last five miles, Sterling, it’s getting old.”

He gave me a hard stare, slowly lowering his arms as his eyes flicked over my face - catching my tears. Sterling sighed and beckoned me closer to him. 

“C’mere darling,” his voice was softer now, more like his normal tone with me, it made me choke on a sob, “I know. That’s it, I know about…”

He trailed off and I tensed, my own eyes flicking over his form as I felt my chest heave with a gasp, trying to catch the breath that just left me. My suspicions confirmed with his own speculation. I had to be pregnant, there was no explaining my recent changes other than pregnancy. 

Sterling continued, coming closer to me and finally slipping an arm around my waist, “the baby, Sloan. It’s not exactly something we can ignore…and you know that.” 

I did. Doing our job while I'm pregnant would not be safe, for me or for our little one. More tears fell over my cheeks as I buried my head against his broad chest, crying softly. I didn’t want my life to change but I knew what I had to do. 

He was supportive, as we traveled back home and we made the decision for me to remain on our homestead. His support never waned even when I got angry and sobbed for hours about him having to leave me like this. We would need to continue our work, regardless of my pregnancy, and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly safe for me now.

Once we returned to our homestead, Sterling took our horses to our barn, telling me to go inside, and tend to the house. The bed needed dressing and the fire started. I bit my tongue to keep a retort about sending me inside like a housewife, my eyes rolling nearly out of my head as I stomped towards our small home. He joined me once I finished the bed and began my work on the fire. His quiet footsteps came up behind me, and I gasped when he placed a hand on my back. With the tension between us on the ride here, I wasn’t expecting his touch. 

It was still comforting.

“Sloan…” Sterling started, and I sighed as he continued, “darling-”

I cut him off by turning and planting my lips on his, shutting him up and finding comfort at the same time. We spent the night together in our bed, warmed by a fire, eating our meager food that we had kept while we were away. 

He stayed only for a week, and soon, I was alone. For the foreseeable future, I would be alone and my heart began to feel heavy, soon after Sterling left. Going about my household chores and work on the homestead was easy enough, but I still hated how quiet it was here by myself. My horse was my only company and I spent as much time as I could with her, even taking long detours as we went to and from the only town nearby. Which was its own issue, when I entered the town for the first time. 

Those that knew me by my work with Sterling were kind, but still standoffish, disliking me on the principle. I had gotten used to being looked down upon for my line of work, but it still stung. Maybe it was the change of my brain with a baby growing in my belly, my mother mentioned she forgot nearly everything in her early months and cried every time she did. 

I kept my tears to myself, feeling the sting of loneliness, until I was with my mare, Willow, and we were far, far away from civilization. Sterling and I had no friends here, even after our work for the local sheriff. He was likely to be the kindest to either of us, but I didn’t wish to strain that relationship by overstaying my welcome in town. 

Riding with Willow became harder as I got sicker, then I began to gain a sizable swell around my middle and it inhibited me from even getting in the saddle without some difficulty. The months passed with little excitement. 

I hated it. 

Sterling did make a stop here or there, when his travel brought him close to home every month, give or take a week or two, and showered me with affection and gifts. His hands traveled my new body, mumbling his amazement at the changes every time, and telling me how absolutely divine I was. It was adorable and helped my self-image. I felt heavy and slower than normal. Mentally and physically, I felt slower, the baby taking more and more of myself with every passing day. Sterling didn’t seem to care though, when he was home he waited on me hand and foot. ‘Making up for lost time,’ was what he told me. I would relent and let him, enjoying the attention and his fussing. His tender touch on my swollen belly made my heart flutter for him as it had on our wedding day. 

He was due to leave again tomorrow morning, but for now, he clung to my body as if I would fade away if not held down by him. We laid in bed and listened to the rain hit the metal roof above us. The fire was dim, but not dying, so we lingered comfortably together, dozing in and out of sleep. 

Sterling’s hand strayed over my hip and I smiled, keeping my eyes closed. His touch was intoxicating, and I pressed into his grip, catching his breathy chuckle before his lips pressed against my skin just under my belly button. 

“Perfection,” he mumbled, utterly transfixed. Sterling continued to pepper my belly with kisses, taking a pause only to finish his thought, “perfect and mine.”

My husband devoured me then, his lips and tongue delving between my legs and into my slick heat. His facial hair tickled my thighs and I sighed happily as he showed his devotion, fully lost to every sensation he gave me. Tomorrow Sterling would ride off again, but for now, he was nestled between my legs, one hand on my thigh and the other over where our little one rested in my belly. 

The night passed by too fast. He said his goodbyes, lingering for longer than he should have, not letting me out of his grip until he finally had to leave. He rode off on his own mare, and I stared after them for a time. The baby in me shifted and pressed against my bladder, making me grunt and rub my hand over my belly. 

“Don’t act up because your father’s gone.” I mumbled, returning to bed for a bit more rest. 

Sterling didn’t return the next month. As I continued to grow, crawling closer to my time, worry made me ill - more than once. It wasn’t out of the question for him to be sidetracked or taking more time to travel, but the worry still made me return to the comfort of our bed throughout the day often. 

A lot of the chores fell into disarray, my only constant was making sure Willow was fed and watered. My massive middle made moving difficult, doing anything that wasn’t necessary was asking too much of myself. At one point, I began to wear only my thin cotton nightgown, even while outside, not caring to get dressed if there was nobody around. It also made coming and going from bed easier. 

It was late in the evening when I felt the first contractions. I was waiting for Sterling in the rocking chair he had bought when we moved here when I felt it. My hands rubbed over my middle, taking a deep breath as I realized I was effectively alone for the foreseeable future. Meaning I would have to deliver on my own. 

My throat felt tight, and I struggled to relax my muscles as a few moments passed and the pain disappeared. Tears pooled in my eyes and I cried as my labor started. 

I tried to climb into bed and rest, trying to mentally prepare myself for this. I also couldn’t help but pray for Sterling to return, so I wasn’t alone, but I knew it would prove fruitless. The cross that hung from my neck offered little comfort as I clutched it, breathing in as a pain wrapped its way around my belly. A grunt left me as I rolled over onto my hands and knees, this pain lasting longer than the last few.

“Nughhh.” I moaned, trying to rock myself through the painful gripping of my womb. A weight had slowly begun to move down with this pain and I felt my hips ache as they adjusted for the head of my baby slid down. 

Arching my back, my huge belly rubbing against the bedding as I continued to moan through the pain, rocking and moaning. In the back of my mind, I had some shame acting like this, moving like this, it felt brazen. That thought was pushed away as the pain seemed to peak and I cried out loudly, the weight of a boulder pressing against my pelvis. 

Faintly, I became aware of the patter of rain on our roof, a storm settling in overhead as my labor progressed. 

A split second after I caught the sound of the rain, I felt a huge shift in pressure, my womanhood aching from the inside. I swore in pain, rocking again, as the pressure continued to build. Tears burned my eyes, and I felt my hips strain. There was no relief from the pressure, even as I moved back and forth. The child in me moved and made me gasp, stilling my movements. 

The pain and pressure made my mind hazy, but I was aware of my body rejecting this position, I had to move. 

Slowly, and pausing for several long moments every time I had a pain, I was able to scoot off the edge of the bed, dropping into a deep squat. Fully leaning against the side of the bed as I reached down and tugged my nightgown up and off of my sweating body. I felt hot, everything felt too warm. My womanhood most of all. 

I cried out with another contraction, the squat making the pressure ease some, but the pain remained constant. My vagina hurt, it burned, it felt like the boulder between my legs was stretching my hole apart as slowly as it possibly could. 

The rain outside picked up, the sound of thunder greeting my ears as I dropped my head onto the soft bedding with a cry. The pressure returned and unable to release it, I simply bore down with everything I had in a big push. I screamed loudly in pain. 

A soft sound accompanied the sudden release of pressure, then settling into a deeper ache between my folds. The release of pressure was then followed by the sound of a gush of fluid hitting the wooden floor, and instantly, I knew what happened. 

Unable to help myself, I let out a breathless laugh, the noise turning into a moan as a contraction grew around my tight belly. My hips burned, my pussy starting to bulge and I felt every inch of the child slip closer to entering the world. I cried out, sobbing as the burn in my womanhood spread to my folds. The weight of the child was just as painful, but I was suddenly grateful I moved when I did. There was no way I could even think of moving from this position now.

I pushed again, my body trembling as I strained to urge my child from me. My pussy felt too warm, like someone had held a candle to it, and I couldn’t help the fat tears that rolled over my cheeks and onto the bedding. With a tight grip, I wrapped my hands in the blankets, my knuckles quickly turning white as I pushed once again. 

“Sloan!”

My breath caught in my throat, moan cut midway, as my heart thudded painfully in my ears. That was… “Sterling…” I breathed, my throat sore, but my body quickly reminded me that our child sat at my entrance. I groaned again, barely able to choke out, “...baby…coming…”

“Sloan!” 

I heard him again, but I couldn’t respond again, my body urging me to push. I felt the spread of my folds, the head bulging me outwards painfully. 

The door slammed open, the sound of thunder accompanying the noise, and I heard Sterling’s boots on the floor. 

His hands were on my shoulders, free of his gloves, and rubbed gently. He whispered, “I’m here, dearest, I’m here.” 

I sobbed again, unsure if it was from his sudden support, or from the pain, but it mattered little. I pulled my head up from the bed, groaning as I pushed with a new contraction. The head spread me apart, my folds pulled tight around it as it slowly emerged. 

Behind me, Sterling cooed at me softly and rubbed my shoulders and hips, trying to ground me as I fought with my body with each push. I caught the sound of him shifting several times, his spurs jingling with the slightest bit of movement. It was distracting, if only for a few seconds. 

The head continued to crown, very slowly, as I pushed several more times. I tossed my head back and groaned, the head holding me spread apart as I felt the child wiggle in the birth canal. Gasping, I lifted my head, and grabbed a new fistful of bedding.

“The baby…! Catch…the baby…!” I warned Sterling, feeling the sudden, painful urge to push again. I gritted my teeth and bore down, my squat deepening as far as it could go. I felt Sterling’s hands leave my hips and he obeyed my request as I felt one of his hands brush against my swollen and bulging pussy. He gasped, feeling the head at its widest point in me as I pushed as hard as I could. 

The head slipped out, making me release the push with a gasp. More dribbling of fluid hit the floor and then I heard Sterling’s sharp intake of breath. I felt his fingers prod around my opening, making me pant, but he pressed a kiss to my shoulder, silently telling me to continue.

With the next contraction I pushed, it was only for a split second before I felt the babe wiggle in me again. I screamed loudly, continuing to push as the pain seemed to linger for far longer than before. The baby lurched downward, falling into Sterling’s hands as I continued to push, the rest of the baby falling out of me with a spill of fluid. 

I dropped my head down onto the bed and released the sheets, shakily falling to my knees as Sterling brought the baby to and around to my chest. I lifted myself up and pulled the child close to my chest, weeping when I saw my baby, her own cries sharp and strong. She was perfect.

“We have a girl,” Sterling whispered to me softly, his voice turned watery. “A baby girl.”

I wiped her face, her cries continuing as I felt more tears spill over my cheeks. “Oh, she’s everything.” I said, softly. She was everything. 

Sterling kissed the top of my head, pressing his lips close to my ear and whispering - just for me, “you did amazing, Sloan.”

I leaned against him, wrapping our girl in a blanket and bringing her back as close as possible to me. I couldn’t ask for anything else - my life now felt complete, wrapped in Sterling’s embrace and holding our newborn daughter.