#I don’t think it’s going to get better until I move
Note
there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u
love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k
“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.”
James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation.
“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath.
Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in.
“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.”
You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute.
What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple.
You’ve been acting super weird.
“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.”
Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.”
“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.”
A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his.
Poor girl, he thinks.
“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks.
Your boss sighs. “What about it?”
James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness.
You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.
James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force.
It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes.
But what’s not to like about you now?
Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake.
He doesn’t think he can.
“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.”
You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you.
Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still.
He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt.
James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.
The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes.
“Sorry, James,” you murmur.
“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.”
That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them.
“Did I miss much?” you ask.
Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.”
“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?”
“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says.
“Is he fixing it?” you ask.
“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!
⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )
warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!
as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up.
he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored.
it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside.
as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him.
“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.
“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.
katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.
you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…
…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.
everything is always for you.
katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.
you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?”
you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.”
to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.
the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.
you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years.
nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again.
katsuki abandons the tea completely.
however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.”
“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?
me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.
he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend.
not to you.
never to you.
and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.
“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time.
pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next.
“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”
the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.
like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.
“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.
“what?”
“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.”
people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today.
the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?”
“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”
he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.
“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.” for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.
you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.
“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.”
those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.
“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.”
it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.
you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else.
someone that wasn’t him.
words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.
bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive.
“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“
you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always.
not this time though.
katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.
that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you.
you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you.
except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed.
you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.
and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou angst#bakugo x reader#bakugo angst#bakugou imagines#bakugou drabbles#bakugo imagine#bakugo drabble#bnha x reader#bnha angst#bnha x you#bakugo x you#mha x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#bakugou katsuki x reader#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing
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THE CONSEQUENCES; M. STURNIOLO
MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER
warnings: SMUT, sub!matt/dom!reader, mommy kink, boring ending but i honestly just wanted to finish this bc this was one of those rare occasions where i actually finish writing something in one day 😭
a/n: the pics are boring but i was too lazy to make it look prettier - also it’s always “pink lingerie” on smuts and as an avid black clothing wearer, i’m gonna keep writing about black clothes
wc: 2,971
SYNOPSIS: Mindlessly stealing a pair of your discarded panties, Matt decided to use them to his advantage.. until someone interrupts him..
-
Matt knew it was wrong; it was an invasion of privacy. But he couldn’t stop.
Ever since he found his best friends underwear in his bathroom after a shower, he didn’t know better than to take them at the time. It was after you had left and he did think of texting you, but something else got the better of him.
Now, almost every night, he lies in bed with the fabric in one hand and his dick in the other. Before he does it, he always tells himself that it’s a bad idea and that he needs to stop.. but he doesn’t want to. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel something more for you, anyway. Everything about you was intoxicating; and that’s how he ended up like that, laying in bed with your panties up to his nose.
The dark fabric was held tight in his grip as the bones in his hand became apparent. Moving the opposite palm against himself, Matt huffs out a groan as he keeps your private piece of clothing close to him.
It had only been a few minutes after you left. Matt made sure he heard the front door click close before throwing himself on his mattress and tugging down his pajama pants. He knew it was wrong, especially since you were just here… but the thought of you potentially wearing another pair of the panties he hid in his dresser drawer immediately got him going.
Bringing your underwear closer, something clicks in his mind. Pausing his movements, he takes the dark fabric in his right hand and wraps it around himself, experimentally stroking his hand with it. With a sharp inhale, his hand grows tighter as he moves it faster, desperate for release. His mind pictured you on top of him, the side of your panties scratching him slightly as you ride him. The thought of your hands resting on his stomach and your breasts bare as you hover above him drove him impossibly closer. He felt the fabric get stickier as seconds pass, too engrossed with the idea of you to care.
Too engaged with his movements and thoughts, his ears don’t pick up the sound of a door creaking, followed by footsteps. Letting out another groan, his back arches slightly, his wrist starting to grow tired. Though, he freezes once he hears his door click. With a sudden gasp, his eyes snap open and look toward his door. It was almost like you knew he was thinking of you because there you stood, frozen in place as you realized what you had just walked into.
“I-I’m so,” Matt starts, before a guttural moan interrupts him. Subconsciously squeezing his base, his eyes shut tightly, either from the sudden pleasure or because of how bad he wishes he could disappear from this situation. The girl he was just fantasizing about to get himself off was standing in front of him while he’s rubbing her panties against his dick.
“I’m so sorry, I-“ Matt begins again, too scared to even flinch as his body doesn’t move, hoping and wishing that the dark fabric covers as much as it could.
“Are those mine?” Were the first words to leave your mouth, shocking the man on the bed.
He stutters for a moment, before hesitantly nodding, knowing he had no other excuse to come up with (not that you’d believe him anyway). With a shaky breath, he swallows dryly, internally scolding and yelling at himself as he makes himself believe that now he’s just some perv to you. Stealing your underwear and using them to jerk off.. yeah, totally not weird, he sarcastically thinks to himself.
“How did you get them?” You continue, stepping a couple feet into his room and quietly shutting his door behind you. Matt’s eyes follow your movements, still shocked that his best friend caught him touching himself.
“Um,” he swallows, looking away from your prying eyes and down at his hands, only to realize his dominant one was still resting around his cock. Immediately pulling it away, he moves himself up against his headboard, digging his fingers into his silk sheets. “You left—”
“Put your hand back.” Your voice was stern as you took a few cautious steps forward, the front of your legs leaning against the foot of his bed. The confusion Matt felt was basically written on his face as he tries to process what you said to him. Your eyes followed the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his jaw clenching.
“What?” He whispers, just barely audible in the room. His eyes meet yours, his pupils beginning to dilate.
“I’m not repeating myself, Matt.” You say, still cautious incase he denies you. The fleeting thought is quickly forgotten once he listens to you, wrapping his large hand around his dick. With your panties covering it, you couldn’t see the full thing, but you were more than surprised by his size. “Now, how did you get them?” You ask, never taking your eyes away from him, watching the way he slowly sinks into his mattress from your gaze.
“You, um, you left them in my bathroom a couple days ago when you got out of the shower.” Matt explains, his fingers itching to move as they rest against his base. His chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing became labored. “I was gonna give them back—” He tries to defend himself, but his words come out jumbled. The tips of his ears are a bright red, showing his embarrassment.
“But instead you’re using them to get off.” You finish his sentence, your lips mindlessly curling up once you see the way his face heats up as his body tenses.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this is weird—”
“Keep going.”
Matt’s breathing hitches, his lips parting to ask you to repeat yourself before knowing better. He swallows heavily, beginning to follow your orders as he starts to move his hand. He was painfully hard by now. He always thought that if you’d ever catch him doing something like this, he’d immediately stop and apologize, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him needier. He always wondered what you’d be like if you both were to ever get together; would you be in control, would you be the one obeying him, would you be loud?
Exhaling harshly from the way his hand felt, Matt quickly purses his lips to stop any more sounds from leaving him. His eyes meet yours once he hears you tsk.
“I wanna hear you, Matt.” You say teasingly, leaning forward slightly to rest your hands on his shins. Matt whines as he watches you, his eyes thoughtlessly trailing down your neckline, centering in on your breasts. His hand speeds up, your panties still hanging around himself.
Propping yourself up on his bed, you sit between his legs, flickering your eyes from his movements and his face. Whimpers leave the boy’s lips as the knot inside his stomach grows tighter, the eye contact with you pulling him closer. Reaching forward, you take your underwear off of him, noticing the way his breath hiccups. Trailing your eyes over his entire body, you can’t deny how wet you were. Your best friend, and crush, was touching himself right in front of you.. to the thought of you.
His shirt still hung on his body, but it was pinched up enough to show his happy trail. “You look so pretty, Matt.” You mutter, bringing your hands up to hide under his shirt. He whines at your words, skin filling with goosebumps from your touch.
“Please,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut before looking down at you. Moans escape his pink lips as they grow dry, occasionally sticking his tongue out to wet them.
“Please what, baby?” You smirk, your hands still roaming his soft skin. His ears flourish redder as his humiliation grows, faux-irritated whines leaving his mouth.
“Please touch me.” Matt mutters, his back subtly arching from the name you called him. His hand never stopped as it went faster, but all he wanted was your touch. He knew that as soon as your hand came in contact with him, he’d be a goner.
“I am touching you, Matt.” You reply, the teasing tone in your voice evident. The smile on your face told Matt what you were doing, already sick of your teasing and you’ve barely done anything yet.
With another pitiful whimper, he chokes out, “please, mommy, I need you to touch my cock.” His blunt response surprises you, halting your movements. Once he realizes what slipped from his lips, his eyes widen as they meet yours. “Fuck, I, I’m so—”
“You need mommy, baby?” You tease him with his own words, moving closer to him. With a harsh swallow, Matt nods and starts to move his cramping hand away from himself. Following his lead, you wrap your hand around his dick, starting your movements slow. After a few seconds, you reach away, not without a loud whine from the man underneath you, and reach under your shirt to pull it off. The complaint from Matt immediately stops once he notices what you’re doing, his eyes wandering your body. Throwing the fabric on the floor, you lean forward and wrap your hands around him, stroking up and down. In your position, your arms push together, protruding your breasts forward.
Matt’s mouth opens in silent pleasure, his eyes ranging from between your boobs and your face. With his cock facing you, it was ultimately the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“You’re so big, Matt. Taking it so good.” You say seductively, your hands never stopping their motion. Matt moans at your words, not only stroking his ego, but simultaneously striking that perfect cord inside of him. The piercing knot inside of his stomach became tighter and tighter, begging to be released.
“Fuck, I’m gonna,” Matt moans, his nails digging into his soft sheets. “Please mommy,” he whines, breathing heavy. Looking down at you, noticing your nod and raking his eyes over your position was his last straw. Arching his back as the band inside of him breaks, his breath hitches before a guttural moan leaves his lips, watching his cum drip down the crevice of your breasts, and just barely hitting the bottom of your chin.
“Did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy.” Your words make him shudder, his cock already stiffening. Once his eyes open, he looks back down at you, gaping at the way you bring your hands up to your mouth to lick off the remaining taste of him. His breathing was still erratic, his chest heaving. You reach down to stick your thumbs into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down and discarding them on the floor beside you. A smile grows wide on your lips once you hear Matt’s breath audibly hitch. An almost identical pair to the panties he stole were tight-fitted around you, securing Matt’s suspicions.
“You like these, huh?” You ask rhetorically, your hands coming down to rest on your thighs, knowing how much it teased him from the longing look in his eyes. With a nod in response, you lean forward and press your palms underneath his shirt again. “You liked them so bad you had to keep some for yourself.” You mutter, your hands slowly bringing the loose fabric up as your hands move towards his shoulders.
As Matt’s cheeks tint pink, soft whines leave his lips from your teasing. Your touch alone shot electricity through his body, an insatiable need for you never satisfied. “I need you, mommy.” He whispers, his voice small as his hands reach for your thighs. His fingers dig into the plush skin, marking small crescent moon-shaped patterns on it.
“I know, sweetheart.” You coo, your hands reaching the top of his torso. “Can I take this off, baby?” With a quick nod from the man underneath you, your hands un-loop his arms through his shirt, throwing it somewhere neither of you cared about in the moment. You run your hands over his soft stomach, making a shiver pass through his spine. Chuckling softly at his reaction, you lean back and begin to strip yourself of your underwear. Straddling his lap, your bare center glides along his, resulting in his hands gripping your hips tightly.
“Fuck, mama,” Matt whines, inhaling sharply through his nose. You can tell he’s sore, but still so desperate for more. His tip was painfully red, the vein that made its way along the underside of his cock making itself apparent. Who knew it was so easy to get him so riled up..
“You gonna keep being my good boy, Matt?” You lean forward and rest your palms on his chest, subconsciously pushing your breasts together. With his eyes flickering between your chest and face, he nods, his Adam’s apple stuttering. “Words.”
“Yes, mommy, I’ll be your good boy.” He mumbles, as if he was shy to proclaim how much of a hold you had over him. Giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, you prop yourself up so you can sink down on him. Wincing slightly once he fits inside you, you take deep breaths as you lower yourself down. With a pitiful groan escaping the man, his eyes shut forcefully, his chest moving as erratic as it was before. With incoherent mumbles leaving his pink lips, sighs and moans interrupt him as he feels your walls clench around him.
Once you’ve grown accustomed to his size, you begin moving, watching his reaction. Bright blue eyes meet yours once they snap open from your sudden movements. “Faster, please,” he whines, his nails never relenting their violence against your skin. “Mommy, I cant—”
Before he can finish his sentence, you grab your panties that were lying beside you on the bed and stuff them into his mouth. With a moan from Matt, he looks up at you with the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. That look alone could’ve made you cave.
“Since you don’t wanna shut up,” you bring yourself down on him harsher, eliciting a muffled groan from him. “I can make you.” Your fingers move away from his mouth, letting the now-wet fabric rest between his lips. A pathetic whine escapes him, his noises still being wavered by your underwear. Reaching up behind you, you quickly undo your bra clasp, sighing at the relief before throwing it behind you. As soon as you feel his palms creep up your sides, your hands envelope his wrists and pin them above his head. You knew how bad he wanted to touch you and you knew how bad you wanted to see him crumble.
“Did I say you could touch me, baby?” You ask, your hips never stopping as they move up and down on him. With a shake of his head, you notice the tears start to form in his eyes. “Are you gonna cry, sweetheart? This too much?” Your question was obviously rhetorical, not looking for a genuine answer, but Matt nodded anyway. With a hot tear rolling down the side of his face, a guttural moan shakes him when he feels you squeeze around him roughly. “You can take it.” You mutter, feeling that familiar tug inside you.
Matt’s words come out jumbled as he desperately tries to speak, your mind bidding them incoherent babbles. You could tell he was close again by the way he tensed up and how his hips occasionally thrusted upwards.
Leaning your forehead down, you rest it against his, your breath fanning against his open mouth. Pulling away one of your hands from his, you trail it down to remove the fabric from his lips. As your breaths collided, you both ached more and more for release.
“Feels so good, mommy.” His voice is small and hoarse, but he tries his best to let you know how good you’re making him feel.
“Yeah? Good.” With a soft response, you hesitate for a moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. Without a second of thinking, Matt immediately cooperates, sucking your bottom lip sharply. Moaning softly into the kiss, you lick along his top lip, pushing into his mouth once he grants you permission.
Pulling away with a sharp inhale, your eyes slam shut as your forehead rests back against his. His hips thrust forward, hitting that perfect spot inside you, just seconds away from giving in.
“Wanna make you feel good, mommy.” He whispers, his eyes taking in your reaction. He continues his movements, getting off on your pleasure. As you both draw closer and closer to your climax, your breathing gets heavy as your eyes are kept on Matt. He holds it with you, making that band inside you snap. Moaning from the sudden pressure, your mouth opens in silent pleasure. Matt follows quickly, his breath hitching as he finishes for the second time that night.
After a few moments, you both have regulated your breathing and your head rests against his chest. Once you’ve gathered up the strength, you lean up and off of him, clenching your jaw before you throw yourself down on his bed next to him. Taking a second before looking over at him, you realize that he was already staring at you, silently wondering to yourself how someone can look so beautiful with tearstained cheeks.
“Hi.” You exhale, the both of you laughing softly.
“Hey.” Matt whispers, his eyes still taking in your state. Had anyone told him hours ago that he’d just had sex with his best friend, and crush, he would’ve scoffed and denied it. But now, as he sat naked beside you, he couldn’t be happier.
Who would’ve thought stealing your panties would lead to this?
#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine
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Winner
Pairing: Coach!Tashi x fem!Reader x Coach!Art
Warnings: 18+, smut, too filled with shame to proofread, dom!tashi, sub!art, sub!reader, mentions of spanking, tashi is so mean in this, art is basically a prop with minimal lines, idk
*******
Training with Tashi Duncan and her husband was an honor. You knew that. You did your very best to remember that; which was hard to do when she had days like this.
“Are you scared of the fucking ball?” You shake your head, but you know better than that at this point.
“Speak up!” You flinch before you can stop yourself.
“No, I'm not scared of the ball.” You say.
“I would hope not- considering how long you’ve been doing this. That’d surely be a disappointment to your little fan club that you love so much. “ Tashi watched the way your eyebrows tinge only for a moment, at the mention of the onlookers who follow your career closely.
It was no secret that you had a great appreciation for the love that they’d shown you, but it was almost like you were completely unaware of how quickly it would be gone if you weren’t up to par at all times.
From afar Art watched the scene play out. You were the player that Tashi was the hardest on. He was sure it was to do with the fact that you were just like her. Well except for the fact that you lacked confidence in your abilities. Another reason she was hard on you. She wouldn’t see your potential wasted. But you worked hard like her, tennis was the love of your life like her.
He watched as Tashi served to you, intense and laser focused. Then you, playing back with the same intensity and just as passionate. It’s almost magical to watch until you hesitate and miss the ball.
Tashi’s on your ass before the ball can even hit the ground. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you in it?”
You stammer a reply that Art can’t hear. Probably an apology. His feet are moving closer before he can even think of a reason why.
“No, tell me. What’s got you so off your game lately? Because you’re not going to fucking embarrass me at your next matches because you can’t get your head out your ass.”
“Tash lighten up.” He’s ignored which is to be expected. She stares at you intensely awaiting your answer.
“How am I supposed to lighten up when she’s playing like she never held a racket before, huh?” Again she sees the twitch in your eyebrows. Good, you’re angry.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” Tashi holds up her hand. She doesn’t want your apology.
“You know what- if you don’t want to tell me what the problem is,” She grabs your phone which has been continuously lighting up since you started. “I’m sure this will.’
You draw in a breath of air in surprise but you make no move to stop her. Your eyes wide at the invasion, but still ever so respectful even when your privacy is being violated.
Almost immediately her eyebrows sprout up. “I thought we agreed on no boyfriends for this reason?” she shakes her head continuing to scroll through your phone as if it were hers. Art draws closer to her in interest, now intrigued about your phone as well,
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You’re embarrassed, your grip on your racket tightening as you get angry at the way she’s shaming you.
“Obviously.” She mutters. She pauses a moment, both her and Art sharing a look and you know they’ve gotten to the most mortifying part.
“Well if something would shake someone’s confidence it would be that.” You cringe, finally going to take your phone back only to be pushed back by Tashi.
“What did we talk about when it came to how you let people talk to you off the court and how it affects your game on the court?” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes.
“I can’t control what other people say” You can’t stop the edge in your voice.
“But you can control what you say. You didn’t even try to stand up for yourself. This-” She shoves the phone at you with a picture of you half naked with the word unfuckable, in the center of the screen. “Is pathetic. “ You look away when she starts scrolling more like you don’t already know the rest of the verbal assault that had been issued towards you, and then a video of your so-called boyfriend with your next opponent and the lewd graphics that came with it.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” You don’t mean for your response to be so angry. Or for the hot tears that started burning your eyes to fall. But the frustrations of your day had started to take a toll on you. So when you finally snatch your phone back from Tashi and get ready to storm off you miss the pleased look on her face. Art doesn’t though, he almost shakes his head knowing it was her intention to rile you up in the first place.
She raises an eyebrow at him, and just as she expects him to, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. The perfect good cop. “It’s okay, kid.” You’re tense in his arms, it reminds him of the times he’s tried to comfort Tashi and she wouldn’t allow it, but after a few moments of him rubbing your back you finally relax. .
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You start, but Tashi interrupts.
“Apologize for standing up for yourself and I’ll make you run until you pass out.” You wipe your eyes roughly and nod. Stepping away from Art’s hug and trying your best to put your game face back on.
“You got that out of your system now?” You nod again, but after a pointed gaze you speak.
“Yes.”
“Good now let’s talk about how you respond to this kind of bad sportsmanship.”
******
The outfit Tashi has you in, is just barely appropriate, You look focused, despite the whistles you’ve received on your way in. You look a little angry actually.
Art glances at Tashi beside him, who looks all too pleased. “What’d you do?”
“I didn’t have to do anything.” She’s almost bragging. He follows her line of sight to Tashi’s opponent and sees her and your not boyfriend smirking at you.
He wants to ask Tashi if she thinks this will shake your confidence more, but then he looks back at you laser focused as you stretch and he decides not to question it.
The match starts off intense with your serve. Your opponent looks surprised and even though she quickly recovers. Art can tell that this will be a win for you even though he knows Tashi despises that kind of over confident thinking.
As the match continues Tashi is gripping her seat for support. So enthralled in the game and invested in the fearlessness you’re displaying she can barely contain herself.
At one point during a break you’re caught trash talking your opponent. Tashi is sure to get you for it later. Even though the only thing she hears clearly is “enjoy my sloppy seconds” with a saccharine smile on your face. The deduction you receive is definitely worth it.
When you win as expected. Tashi is nearly buzzing and Art can’t hold back his excitement either.
****
“See this is what happens when you’re a winner.” Tashi tells you. She quite literally holding Art’s balls as he fucks into you.
“Winners are fuckable, tell her Art.” He gasps, feeling her squeeze him.
“Fuck-” He breathes. “Did so good.” You spasm around him at the praise, pulling a loud groan from him. “Knew you were gonna win, kid.”
Your whines and whimpers are muffled by Tashi’s hand. “Fuck her faster, she’s gonna come.” Art obeys immediately despite the fact that he is much too close himself. Your eyes roll back at the change of pace.
“There you go.” She squeezes Art’s balls once you start cumming so that he can too. He tries to pull himself out of you before but he can’t and leaves a sticky mess all over your cunt. “Fuck”
Tashi mounts you before you can stop twitching, lining her pussy up with yours, holding your leg over her shoulder. “Now next time I tell you to do something,, you’ll listen to me.” She starts slowly, spreading the mixture of both you and Art’s orgasm on both of you.
“Isn’t that right?” You nodding makes her speed up, giving you that look of disapproval.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, yes, yes I’ll listen to you.”
“Yeah I know you will, because now you know what good girls get.” She continues to grind against you skilfully.
“And next time you don’t listen to me-” You feel your core tense up again. “I will spank you until you cry.” Just like that you’re gone again. The masochistic side of you envisioning the picture that will haunt your fantasies until you get it.
You don’t realize the loud moan you hear is you, until Art is kissing you sloppily to silence your cries. ‘You like that don’t you?” You hear Tashi say. You want to tell her yes but you can’t with Art’s tongue down your throat. You think she knows the answer anyway.
The contrast between the way that Tashi is fucking you so vigorously and the slow kisses Art is giving you puts your head in a spin. On top of that your overstimulated clit is making it hard for you to think at all.
“Coach please-” You beg. “My pussy can’t;” You’re cut off immediately.
“Who knows what's best for you? Me or you?”
“You!” By this time tears are flowing down your face, as you feel another orgasm building all too quickly. Art wipes them, then moves his hands down to pinch your nipples.
“Exactly. Now cum.”
#challengers#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#tashi x art#tashi x reader#tashi x art x reader#tashi duncan smut#fantasylandloserfic
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Jet Set - Paige Bueckers x Reader
this idea is from @princessrailgun-blog !! i hope you like this 🥲😛
plot: y/n attends university in windham, connecticut (semi close to storrs) and is on a flight from florida back to connecticut! on this flight she meets paige and the rest of the uconn wbb team
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Your leg shook as you anxiously waited for your plane to board. You had only been on one solo flight before, that being your flight to Florida only a week prior. Flying alone had probably been one of the most nerve wracking experiences of your entire life, but it ended up being a fun experience. You’d flown to Florida to enjoy a girl’s trip with some of your friends from high school. While it was a memorable and fun experience, you definitely were not looking forward to this flight back.
“Now boarding Group B! Boarding for Group B!” You groaned. Of course they would call your group before you’d finished mentally preparing yourself. You stood up and grabbed your carry on tote bag, and got in the line. In front of you seemed to be a sports team, because they were all wearing similar colors and warm ups. They were chatting amongst themselves until you saw out of the corner of your eye someone staring at you. She was the tall blonde girl of the group. You weren’t sure if she was making fun of you in her head, judging you, or something else so you decided to give a classic little wave and a “Hi!”
She seemed surprised and stuttered a bit as she began speaking, “Uhhh hi! I’m Paige, nice to meet you!” You smiled at her and just nodded, you being shy and not really knowing what to say. “You going to Connecticut too?” She asked you. You looked at her and giggled. “Doesn’t this flight only go to Connecticut?” Paige’s eyes widened and she wanted to choke herself for saying something that sounded so dumb. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Haha, just messing with you.” You shook your head as she winked at you. The line kept moving and it was finally your turn to board. You showed your boarding pass to a flight attendant and she directed you to your seat: 35A. You were pretty happy with your seat (it was a window seat!) and it only had another seat next to it instead of the usual 3-seater. You put your bag in front of you and slid into your seat.
Then, you saw the same pretty blonde girl walk up. She looked at you then back down at her boarding pass. “I guess your stuck with me for this flight, I’m sorry about that!” You rolled your eyes and just smiled at her. With your nerves fading into oblivion you decided to be a little bold. “Don’t be sorry, I was hoping I could get to know you a little better.” Her cheeks got a little rosier and she looked the other way. “I’m Paige, by the way.” You extended your hand to her, “I’m Y/n! So were you in Florida for a school trip or something?”
“Sort of, I’m on the Uconn Basketball team and we played a game in Florida on Friday.”
“No way! That’s so cool! Did you guys win?”
“Yeah, we won. It was a pretty easy game honestly, but uh you should come see for yourself sometime. What part of Connecticut are you in?”
“I’ll have to see, definitely ;). I’m in Windham, that’s not too far right?” Suddenly the plane started to take off and it bolted down the runway. All your nerves flooded back to you and you froze in your seat. Paige looked over at you worriedly, “Y/n? Hey, you ok?” You nodded and tried your best to fake a smile at her. “I’m fine, just a little freaked out by planes is all.”
Paige nodded and looked down at your hand. Would that help you? If she squeezed your hand? She thought about the pros and cons of her boldness. She could squeeze your hand and you would either be forever grateful and in debt to her and fall in love with her, or you would think she’s a total weirdo and in that case she could just never talk to you again after she got off that plane. Paige decided to follow through on her bold move and reached down to squeeze your hand. Your palms were sweating with nervousness. She rubbed her thumbs against the outside of your hand in an effort to calm you down.
“I know touching pressure points can help with nerves sometimes, I get it. Take some deep breaths I promise you’re gonna be safe. You need some water.” You just shook your head and stared at her. “No, I’m good. I just really don’t wanna look out the window right now.” Paige nodded her head, she knew you needed a distraction to help you calm down a bit. “Okay, I gotcha. Just look at me then. Wanna play 20 questions? That way I can get to know the brain behind that pretty face.”
You weren’t sure if Paige was flirting with you organically or if it was just in an effort to calm you down. Either way you appreciated it, and found yourself immersed into the game of 20 questions with her. You learned about how she grew up in Hopkins, Minnesota. How her favorite color was purple. How she’d torn her ACL and how hard it was to recover from that for her. You told her a lot about yourself as well. From where you grew up, to your family life, your college experience, your favorite color, favorite food, you name it she was asking you about it.
“Attention passengers,” said the flight attendant on the intercom, “we are getting ready to descend into Connecticut. Please put your seatbelts back on and thank you for flying with us today!” You frowned. It had been 2 and a half hours already? That was weird. Talking with Paige seemed like it only lasted minutes.
“Awe, already? Man, I’m not ready to stop talking with you! I still had more questions to ask you!” Paige threw her hands in the air jokingly and slouched in her seat. You giggled at the girl’s antics. “Well, the flights not over yet. I think we have time for a couple more questions.”
Paige smirked at you. “Well I’ve only got one left for you right now, Y/n.”
“And what is that, Paige?” Paige leaned in close and
“When am I invited to Windham to see you again?”
You blushed and laughed nervously. “Well that just depends. When are you going to ask me out on a date?”
“As soon as we land.”
#wlw post#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wbb#paige buckets#paige bueckers x oc#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#wcbb x reader#wcbb#wbb x reader#wbb#wlw
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Cult Part 5!
Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.
“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”
His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.
“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”
“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”
Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.
“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”
Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.
He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake.
Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.
Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.
For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.
A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.
Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move.
So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place.
The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.
He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.
Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’.
Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor.
But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.
Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.
Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends.
The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching.
Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode.
And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.
He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision.
He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.
Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.
As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”
All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”
It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.
Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.
“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”
A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious.
Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.
And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary.
Stopping him from talking is the hard part.
“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”
“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.
He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.
He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes.
It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking.
A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.
“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.
“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”
A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”
Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider.
Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”
Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.
He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide.
“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”
“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.
“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.”
Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”
“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.
Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up. “This one was…?”
“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”
A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new.
Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.
Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.
Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?”
“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”
“The market for…?”
“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail.
“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.
“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”
“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -
Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.
Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.
Special.
Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.
Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.
“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”
Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how -
“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide. “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”
“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.
“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.”
Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-
“How much of this is true?” He asks.
If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.
“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”
An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.
“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”
“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”
Dipper glances at the screen.
The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.
Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.
Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head.
Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.
Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life.
And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice.
One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab.
It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself…
Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist.
Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t.
It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.
But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper.
In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time.
He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap.
So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like…
Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.
Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.
The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable.
There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap.
Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.
But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person.
And while the setting’s fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.
The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now.
Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.
He’s even doing it right now.
The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -
Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.
Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path.
He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…
Dipper speaks up.
“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”
“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”
No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track.
“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”
“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”
“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”
“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”
“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”
Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..
It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to.
It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.
Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone.
But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges.
“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!”
That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but-
Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.
“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.”
A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank.
Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you."
He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.
But Bill doesn’t deny it.
God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…
Holy shit. Dipper’s right.
His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.
But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead.
“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”
“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”
Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride.
Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.
“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”
Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful.
There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show.
He’s only focused on one person.
Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’.
Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention -
Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special?
No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces.
Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it.
Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from.
Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”
A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either.
Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down
“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”
Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything.
“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”
“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”
Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.
“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”
“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling.
So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling.
Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though.
Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.
“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.
One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-
Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.
“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”
Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it.
He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive.
Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…
Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.
“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”
Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer.
“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so-
Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.
“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”
“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness.
Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.
“Nope!”
“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.
“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”
How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.
Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.
“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”
“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.
Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.
“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”
“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.
“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”
‘Fun stuff’.
Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’.
He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming.
“Is that… so.”
“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”
“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually.
Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance.
He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue.
Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat.
“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”
“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.”
Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch.
Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead.
What will he do? When he goes back?
He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…
He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was -
Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid.
And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.
Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.
“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”
“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”
“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.
For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.
Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise.
In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there.
“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”
Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing.
Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment.
And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.
Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet.
“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”
Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?
Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention.
“It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning.
Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.
Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off.
And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it.
The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered. Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn.
Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.
Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.
Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”
“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.
“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”
“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”
The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.
“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.
With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”
The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -
Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.
“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”
Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.
Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch.
“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”
“Seems ‘uh’, what?”
“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails.
“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”
“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself.
It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-
“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”
“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”
So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff.
It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.
Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face.
Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies.
Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.
Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like.
“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”
The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask.
“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”
“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.”
Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light.
“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.
God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -
Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.
“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest.
The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat.
“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him.
“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.”
Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.
“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”
“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”
“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide.
“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.
Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted.
Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off.
“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.
Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”
Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.
Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura.
He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm.
Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that.
He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.
The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it.
Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.
Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while.
Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote.
Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals.
Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again.
“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.
Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.
Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.
Maybe he should replay it to check.
The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -
“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor.
The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.
Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show.
Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway.
He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.
Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does.
And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.
Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.
He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-
The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels.
That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.
Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.
“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”
“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”
“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”
Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully.
“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”
A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again.
There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.
“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”
With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.
Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today.
As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused.
Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.
“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”
Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.
Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”
The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama.
Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more.
God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.
Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.
He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch.
It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric.
Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.
Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead.
Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way.
Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy.
Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan.
And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed.
Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.
Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.
Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize
Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.
Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale. Dipper can manage.
It’s just…
The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic.
Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him.
If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face -
Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns.
There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped.
Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well. It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.
But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.
The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it.
Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob.
The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.
The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away.
Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’.
Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.
If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.
Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot.
This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on.
Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses -
Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.
Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger.
For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.
“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”
Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.
Better get to work.
Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust.
There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.
Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not.
Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse.
Dipper figures it out in about two minutes.
The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.
He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off.
On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster.
On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection.
Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important.
No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest.
Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit.
But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock.
…It’s all about misdirection.
Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead.
Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.
Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage.
Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer.
Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.
This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit.
Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.
This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice.
The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and -
He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.
Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time.
More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it.
Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve.
So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.
He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips.
Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be.
Is there… actually nothing here?
Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature.
So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door.
And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.
He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks.
Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.
Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.
As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table.
Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet.
Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it.
The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.
Sadly, there’s not much to look at.
Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one.
He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…
Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible.
With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.
Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.
This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-
Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!
Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later.
In his hands, there’s a picture frame.
Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.
A picture of Bill. What a surprise.
Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image.
Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.
“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers.
Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or -
Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily.
And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book.
Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good.
A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -
Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here.
It’s just a picture of… Dipper.
And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down.
For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable.
Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.
Why is this stashed away? It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.
Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.
There wasn’t just one picture.
With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.
“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.
Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.
Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself.
How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…
Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room.
Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup.
“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.
So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.
Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-
A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.
Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about -
No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.
Shit.
Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.
Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch.
No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.
That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea.
Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.
And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition.
Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out.
All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings.
It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.
The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.
Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.
After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.
Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen.
The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall?
Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him.
It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.
And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off..
Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly.
He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide.
The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder.
Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -
Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing.
The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.
Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow.
At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.
Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.
Well. He’s intact.
A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.
Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad.
Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and -
At Bill.
A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.
Then he blinks.
Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor.
Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face. It flickered through several before settling on blank..
“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”
Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else.
He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.
What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does.
“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”
A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.
At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple.
“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”
“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently.
Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.
Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened.
“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”
Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.
Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.
“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”
A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.
Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea.
That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.
Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.
“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”
Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action.
Watching Bill about to enact his vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -
The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.
“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”
On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.
“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”
Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.
No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -
“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”
Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.
“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”
Oh.
There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could.
Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.
And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched.
“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”
Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another.
And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that -
“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”
“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”
“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”
Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts.
“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.
That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now.
“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”
Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him.
He’s…
All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.
Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay.
This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine.
He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks.
Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension.
He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.
Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it.
Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.
Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim -
But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.
Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.
Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair.
The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while.
Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.
The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.
Living here. With Bill.
Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line.
All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument.
His assumptions have never been right.
Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.
Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.
DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just.
Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache.
Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other.
If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.
They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’.
And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid.
It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.
Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream.
It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.
How the hell is he getting away with all of this?
It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo.
Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.
The birthmark. It must be that.
The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.
But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages.
It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.
Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better.
Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.
Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special.
It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…
Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.
Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box.
Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips.
Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow.
There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.
Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-
No, His room. Where he lives.
An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight.
Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.
The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.
Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -
Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed.
He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him.
Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.
He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…
Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought.
It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily.
He could use that.
Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second.
The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.
And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace.
He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk.
Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north.
“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”
“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”
Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.”
Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.
Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence.
Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.
“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it. “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?”
A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”
Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”
Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”
He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.
He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.
Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.
And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.
“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong! Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”
“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way -
Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.
“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”
Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes.
Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless.
He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.
…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great.
Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses.
“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”
“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”
Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-
“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”
“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”
Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads.
Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off - but when doesn’t he?
Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them.
Wait, what are they doing here?
The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -
Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.
He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.
Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed.
Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”
“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room.
Just as he suspected. It is a great bed.
As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to.
It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill. For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever.
Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment.
“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”
Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”
His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry.
Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back.
Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline.
Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like.
There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth.
Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face.
Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude.
The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound.
He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.
A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence.
Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable.
So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all.
The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days.
But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise.
“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”
Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering.
There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up.
It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.
He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe.
Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants.
The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.
And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’.
Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.
“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that.
He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to.
Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight.
Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.
Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.
“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.
God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter.
The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls.
After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would.
Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.
None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really.
…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward.
Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient.
Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective.
Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.
#One day I will relearn how to write short things#Today was not that day and tomorrow's not looking good either#By the end of this miniseries I'll have basically written a dang novel#RIP my writing hands#I will now have some chocolate as a reward#Fun Fact: I know I'm finished editing when I reach what I call the 'fuck it phase'#Which is when I'm sick of looking at the dang thing#So here it is!!#This is why it's hard to leave tumblr - not a lot of other sites let you drop huge blocks of text like this
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Puppy Love-Epilogue
Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 19
Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?
Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller
Warnings: Flash forward, fluff, smut, handjob, fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, oral (f), creampie, innuendos, language, pregnancy romantic love making.
MINORS DNI! Must be 18+
I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.
This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!
Part 18
Flash Forward in Time:
I wake up with a gentle bump against my side and hazily blink my eyes to allow them to adjust to the darkened room. Emma is still blissfully unconscious as her head rests against my chest and her nude body is draped against mine. I tend to get warm but this woman somehow always seems to be cold. I don’t mind one bit as I’ve spent the majority of my life sleeping alone and I sleep so much better with her body against my own. I smile at my perfect woman and gently move her disheveled hair from her face before I feel another gentle nudge against my side. Our baby boy seems to have woken up and it won’t be long until he wakes his mother up too. Luckily, she’s a heavy sleeper but I’d imagine having a human being rolling around in your abdomen could wake up most anyone. I reach down and caress her swollen belly to acknowledge my little boy and hopefully soothe him back to sleep by rubbing her tummy. Emma is almost eight months along now, and needs every bit of sleep she can get. As I touch her tummy, I think about what life will be like once our little guy finally makes his appearance. We haven’t nailed down a name for him yet, but Emma keeps admitting she likes the idea of naming him after me and calling him AJ, for Austin Junior. I’m pushing for him to have his own name and identity, certainly not wanting him to feel like he has to follow in my shadow. I like the names Luke, Hudson, Grant, and Bradley, but ultimately, I’m going to leave it up to Emma to choose her favorite. She’s doing all of the hard work after all. After a bit of gentle caressing on her belly, our son seemed to calm and Emma messily rolled over and wrapped herself around the giant pregnancy pillow that’s taking over her entire side of the bed. I won’t complain because I’ll give her anything to help her be more comfortable. I decide to ease out of the bed and get the day started because somehow in all my years I can’t shake the early wake up times that the military instilled in me. I quietly corral Mills and let him out in the backyard to use the bathroom. Aika passed away early last year and I’ll be honest, I took it hard. My nightmares started coming back more frequently and Emma convinced me to talk to my therapist at the VA about it. I still miss that sweet girl but know that she had such a fulfilling life here with us. She’s buried out in the backyard under a large oak tree so that we still feel her spirit close by. Mills also really struggled in the first month after her passing, constantly looking around the house for her. He always adored her and was used to following her lead but he’s doing well as he’s matured from the puppy stage. I spent some time training him after our wedding and now he knows all of the commands that I had taught Aika which is helpful, especially now with a growing family.
I start up the coffee pot and know I’ve only got a short window of time before responsibilities call, so I sip on a cup of coffee while I start making breakfast. As I’m plating the pancakes at the table, I hear movement upstairs and know I need to intercept quickly. I bound up the stairs and open the bedroom door to our three-and-a-half-year-old twin girl’s bedroom. Molly Grace and Maggie Kate are out of their toddler beds and already digging in their princess box regardless of the fact that it’s not even half past six on a Saturday morning. They squeal when I scoop them up and place kisses along each of their cheeks.
“Da Da! Ouch!” They giggle as my beard scratches against their cheeks.
“Sorry little darlins” I respond before tickling their tummies.
“Now what do we have here, already getting into the princess box?”
“I want to be Tiana!” MG says followed by MK who declares she is going to be Ariel.
“Well, if I get you girls dressed in your princess gowns, y’all gotta promise to be quiet on the way downstairs so we can let Mama sleep in. Is that a deal?” I ask.
Both curly headed girls nod their heads fervently. I’m certain that won’t last long as my daughters tend to be a bit exuberant, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Alright then, bring me the dresses and then we have to brush your teeth before your dragon breath knocks me out.” I joke.
A somewhat endless feeling half hour later, I successfully have both girls dressed and with clean teeth. Their hair is still a disaster but I’m working on learning. God, if the old me could see myself now. Googling videos of how to braid hair or make a ponytail. Emma usually does their hair and tries to show me a thing or two when she has time. The girls have dirty blonde hair, not quite as light as Emma’s, but they both got my wild curls which Emma adores.
I’ve got them set up with chocolate chip pancakes, fruit and milk cups as they tell me about what movie they want to watch later and constantly interrupt each other as they ask for this and that.
“Nana and PawPaw want y’all to come over today to help Nana bake a cake. Does that sound good?” I ask knowing that the girls are over the moon anytime they get to go to my grandparents’ house. It’s hard to tell who loves it more, the girls or my grandparents. I’m grateful for a potentially quiet afternoon with Emma, since we won’t have too many of those in the future anytime soon.
“Oh yeah! I want to do that! Can we make cupcakes?”
“That’s all up to Nana. Y’all just remember that she’s old and y’all don’t want to wear her out.”
“Yeah, Nana’s real old but PawPaw is even older. He’s like 104.” Maggie says.
“No he’s not! He’s only like 23 I think.” Molly retorts.
“Y’all really have no idea about numbers yet and I find that adorable.” I chuckle to myself as I hear Emma making her way down the hall.
“Good morning, Sugar. Hope we didn’t wake you, I was trying to let you rest.” I kiss my girl sweetly while rubbing her swollen belly.
“Wasn’t you, your son decided to dance on my bladder.” She grumbles and I chuckle. Even all this time later, she still isn’t a morning person. She shuffles further into the kitchen and the girls jump up and give her what I’m sure are sticky syrup covered good morning hugs and kisses. I pour Em a cup of coffee, adding her creamer and she holds it with both hands with a grateful sleepy smile.
“So Ariel and Tiana, what are we talking about this morning?”
“How Nana’s old.” Molly announces and Emma almost chokes on her coffee.
“Who told you that?” Emma asks and both girls point directly to me. Little narcs.
“Well, she is! I was just telling the girls to take it easy on her today.” Emma rolls her eyes at me before walking to the table
“Don’t tell Nana that she’s old.” Emma tells the girls.
“But she is old, mama.” Maggie refutes.
“Yes, but it’s still not nice to say. We don’t want to hurt Nana’s feelings.”
“Does Nana not know that she’s old?” Molly asks inquisitively.
“I’m sure she does baby, but spending time with you girls helps her feel young. Now, how about you girls work on making Nana and PawPaw some more drawings for their refrigerator? You know how much they love those!” Emma directs.
“I want to draw Mills chasing chickens!” Molly shouts.
“I’m going to draw PawPaw riding a cow!” Maggie exclaims.
I chuckle as I watch them scurry over to the little kiddie table off of the kitchen that Emma has made as their art station and get to work.
Emma has shifted to working part time and it’s been great. She stayed home with the girls at first, taking an extended maternity leave after they were born but found that she missed the vet clinic and working with animals. We decided on sending the girls to a “Mother’s Day Out” program where they attend half days so that Emma and I can both work. Our jobs give us the flexibility to be able for one of us to pick them up at 1pm each day and have them home in time for an afternoon nap.
Emma relaxes back at her chair at the table and starts eating some breakfast.
“Little man let you get decent rest last night?” I ask her and she shrugs while chewing her food.
“I felt like I got up more times to pee or roll over than I actually got rest, but I suppose that’s just going to prepare me for the newborn stage of having him up every two hours.”
“Hell, just think about how much easier it’ll be with only one baby this time.” I think back to how exhausted Em and I both were in the first few months home with the girls. We struggled to get them on the same feeding and sleeping schedules. It felt like as soon as we got one to sleep, the other was screaming and waking everyone up. Em and I were so tired we basically just roamed about the house like zombies during the night. I feel like I coped a little bit better than Emma since I was used to insomnia, but she was determined to breastfeed and didn’t want to mess up her supply. After a few months, I finally convinced her to pump some milk for night feeds so I could help more with a bottle feed during the night and let her rest.
“Gosh, I hope so. They were worth it all, but damn I hope this baby sleeps.” Emma sighs.
“Given any more thoughts on what you’d like to name this handsome fella?” I ask.
“I still like AJ, but I’ve been thinking about it and I also really like the name Grant ever since you brought it up. Grant Syverson just sounds like a future star quarterback.” She says and I smirk as I munch on a few berries.
“I like that a lot, Sugar. It’s a very strong name. One he can be proud of. Perfect for our boy.”
“I was thinking the middle name could be Joseph after PawPaw?” She suggests and I have to take a moment to just awe at this woman. PawPaw was always a taciturn man with a steely exterior but when Emma became part of the family he opened up to her more than I ever imagined. Always imparting words of advice and stopping by to check on her when she was pregnant with the girls and I was working. Nothing could have prepared us for the absolute mush that man turned into when the girls were born. PawPaw seemed to get a new lease on life as he dropped everything to spend time with his “grandbabies”. He wanted to teach them all about the farm and loved showing them all the animals. He was wrapped around their fingers and we all joked about it.
“I don’t think anything could make him prouder. I love that idea, baby girl.”
“Let’s wait until he’s born before we tell him.” She suggests and I agree.
“Walt doing okay now that he’s back at work?” Emma asks.
“He’s having a hard time focusing, which is understandable. He’s itching to get home every night to Cassie and baby Carter.”
“Yeah, Cass mentioned he’s got terrible FOMO when I was over there last week. He’s afraid he’s going to miss something.” Emma responds.
Walt and Cassie really hit it off at the wedding and before long were in a serious relationship. She moved to Texas with him about eight months into dating. They got married a little over a year ago and just had a little boy, Carter, who made Walt light up in a way he hasn’t since Faye was little. Emma loved having Cassie close and it was nice having Walter so happy and working more reasonable hours. Faye came to visit as often as she could which was also good for Walt. They only lived about ten minutes from us and Emma had been over every day last week to help Cassie since Walt was on his first week back to work from paternity leave. I remember how hard it was to leave Emma and the girls to go back to work.
“It’s tough to leave your wife and new baby and go back to work but I’m sure he’ll adjust. I remember facetiming you like every hour that first week just to check in.” I reminisce.
“I remember.” Emma giggles. “My big strong army man was a nervous wreck about missing any moment with his girls. It took some time but I think we found a good family/work balance that keeps us fulfilled.”
“I keep you filled.” I mutter with a smirk.
“Austin!” Emma feigns shock. “Clearly you have.” She murmurs as she pats her round belly and I look at her with smug pride.
“Think Nana and PawPaw would keep the girls for a night?” She wonders aloud even though we both know that they jump at the chance to keep the kids.
“You know they would. Got something in mind?”
“An impromptu night alone with my handsome man sounds pretty perfect to me.” Emma bites her lip and I feel the surge run through my body as I quickly grab my phone to call Nana and confirm that the girls can sleepover with them tonight. Emma heads upstairs to pack the girls an overnight bag and before we know it, we’re loading them up in the truck and headed to Nana and PawPaw’s.
After a lively drop-off and quick visit with Nana and PawPaw, Emma and I were back in the truck and driving out of their long driveway.
“I feel like we’re teenagers who just got permission to go out for the night.” Emma joked.
“That mean I get to cop a feel? I ask as I pull Emma closer to me and run my big hand across her exposed thigh gently dragging her sundress higher.
“Thanks to these pregnancy hormones, you’ll be feeling more than that.” Emma smirks and I groan. Our sex life has always been incredible, but having two toddlers that seemingly always want something, and a very heavily pregnant wife who struggled with morning sickness longer than expected made us slow down a bit. Emma finally got to feeling better and the hormones lately had been keeping her extra needy which I was more than happy to accommodate.
“Lunch date at Gia’s?” I asked and she nodded enthusiastically. Baby boy had Emma craving pasta all the time so I knew she’d be excited.
After eating a nice meal, we made our way home and smiled at the rarity of quietness inside our home. Even Mill’s seemed excited about staying with my grandparents for a night of chicken chasing and homemade treats from Nana. The house was all to ourselves and I was ready to get Emma naked and spend the rest of the day in the bed.
I reached for Emma and pulled her into a kiss.
“I love you, beautiful darlin’.” I told her between kisses. Her swollen tummy had me leaning a little further than I usually do for these types of kisses, and I couldn’t help but lean down and place a soft kiss on her belly too.
“I love you too, baby.” She replied as she pawed at my abs in an attempt to take off my shirt.
I pulled my shirt over my head and Emma’s nails immediately sunk into my chest hair as she gently scratched up and down my torso.
“Let’s get to our bedroom so I can properly get you naked, Sugar.”
I led her upstairs to our bedroom and took my time undressing her slowly before laying her down on the bed. She has been feeling a bit self-conscious lately as her body stretches and swells to accommodate our growing son, but I do my best to reassure her.
“You’re so pretty, Darlin’. Every bit about you is perfect.”
“Sy, I’m huge. Be truthful.” She sasses.
“No, you’re pregnant and growing my kid. That I put into you. Something about that turns me on even more. Plus, your tits are huge and I can’t wait to sneak a taste of them when your milk comes in again.” I smirk at her devilishly.
“Austin, you are downright depraved.” She giggles as my hands paw all over her body.
“Only for you, Sugar. Now, let me finally make love to my bride without any interruptions.” I say as I plant kisses along her collar bone, sliding down to her belly and then the juncture of her thighs where her perfect pussy is already glistening in anticipation. I rub my calloused hands along her thighs and spread her open for me as I lick a long stripe up her folds. Emma is extra sensitive lately and jumps at the sensation with a loud moan before her hands find the short strands of my hair and grab on. I lick, kiss, and suck on her delicate pearl before sliding two fingers gently inside her and curling them. A few minutes after I began my ministrations, Emma screams her release as she squirts and her fluids coat my chin and forearm. I drink down everything she gives me so I don’t waste a single drop of her honey. I begin to place gentle kisses on her thighs as I work her through her high before I kiss up her body to check on her. I’m greedily tempted to work her to another orgasm, but know that she’s extra sensitive right now and it might be too much for her. I make my way up to her neck and place soft kisses under her ear as she reaches and grabs on to the scruff of my beard.
“Fuck, Austin. That was amazing.” She mewls with her eyes still closed as I place gentle kisses on her eyelids.
“Yeah? Feel good, Sugar?” I ask as she catches her breath.
“The best. Now I need your cock.” Emma almost whispers as her fingertips trail down my abs before wrapping around my raging erection. She squeezes just like I like before running her thumb across my slit to collect the bead of precum that’s already dribbling out in anticipation and I thrust myself further into her grasp with a groan. I watch as Emma removes her hand, spits into her palm before grabbing me again and jerking me. Between deep kisses, I glance down at her delicate little hand working my large member and can’t help but thrust against her. If she keeps going, I’m going to blow my load before I even get inside her warm cunt.
“Darlin’, I need to be inside you.”
“Fuck me, Austin. Please baby.” I grunt as I manhandle her onto her side, conscious that this may be the best position to keep any pressure off of her growing womb and slide up behind her before lifting her thigh around me. I gently ease the tip of my cock into her warm channel and Emma pushes down against me, sucking my cock inside her wet heat in the best way. When my pelvis is fully seated against her ass cheeks, I groan and Emma arches her back which gives me the perfect angle to her g-spot. I start thrusting slowly as I suck and lick against the spot under Emma’s ear and she wraps an arm around my neck thrusting her fingers into my hair and tugging.
“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight. Just like the first time I ever fucked you, baby girl.” I grunt against her neck.
“Mmm, Austin! You feel so good inside me. So big and full.” She mumbles as I thrust into her.
“God, we fit together so good. You were made to be mine.” I murmur as I appreciate the tight, wet heat surrounding me.
“Harder, baby.” She moans and I’m so tempted to start jack hammering into her perfect cunt but am worried about hurting her more than my desire to fuck hard.
“I don’t want to hurt you or the baby, Sugar.”
“You won’t, I promise. Fuck me please!” She moans and I can’t help but pound into her a bit harder as she claws down my arm that’s holding across her perfect tits. I have the perfect view to watch them bounce over her shoulder as I fuck her from behind and can’t help but start gently tugging at her nipples which earns me a louder moan from her.
I remove my arm from her breasts before I shove two of my fingers in her mouth. She sucks fervently before I reach down past her tummy and start rubbing them against her swollen clit. She’s so easily stimulated that I have her cumming in a matter of moments. Her tight pussy clenched me so hard that I couldn’t hold back my own orgasm and found myself releasing deep inside her before I had intended too. I stilled my hips and shoved my cock as deep as I possibly could as I finished before collapsing back down onto the sheets, not caring how sweaty we were. Emma and I laid perfectly still basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking as the ceiling fan whirled above us before I slid my softening cock from her body and she whined at the loss.
Emma clumsily rolled over to face me and laid her head against my chest, her fingers combing through my chest hair as my fingertips trailed up against her spine.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked her as we basked in the silence.
“I’m thinking that I want you to fuck me like that again before the night is over… and I want to take a bath with you… and I might also be thinking about the chocolate chip cookie dough in the refrigerator.” Emma replied as I croaked out a hearty laugh at how her thoughts were all over the place.
“Why, what are you thinking?” She asked.
“I was honestly just thinking about how grateful I am for you. I never thought I could have any of this. I was just this broken, shell of a person who went through the motions of everyday life. I swear, I never really thought I’d find love like my grandparents and then I met you. I’ve always been so independent and now, I swear to God, I can’t imagine being away from you for a single day. You completely changed me for the better and gave me so much love and passion. It’s like you woke me up and I started finally living life. Oh, and not to mention our babies. God, I love them so much even when they are being little brats. You and our kids just complete me. I can’t wait to see how our son joins in the mix with our baby girls. I’m just so glad I found you. I’ve never been this happy in my life.” I tell her honestly as I think about how my life has changed in just the past 5 years before I hear her sniffle.
“Sugar?”
“Now I feel like an ass for thinking about eating cookie dough when you were making this big declaration of love.” She sobs as the tears flow down her cheeks and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“It’s not funny, Austin! That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard and you know I feel the same way.” She laugh/cries as I bite my lip to keep from chuckling at the absurdity of her pregnancy hormones. She looks up at me with tears still in her eyes and can’t help but start laughing herself. I finally allow my laughter out and we spend the next few minutes laughing so hard that Emma has to get up and waddle to the bathroom to pee which just makes me laugh even harder.
I head to the bathroom after her and start filling the bathtub and lighting candles before helping Emma step in. I make a quick run downstairs to the kitchen and get us some waters and the entire roll of cookie dough with a spoon before I head back up and present the princess with her snack.
Her eyes fill with tears of gratefulness that her beloved craving is about to be satisfied which has us laughing all over again as I join her in the tub to what we jokingly still call marinating in our ‘body juice soup.’
Emma rests her back against my chest as she feeds me bites of her dessert and I can’t help but feel more fulfilled than I ever have before. My future now is not some bleak possibility, but filled with excitement and joy. I owe it all to a bit of puppy love that became the love of my life.
Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly, @ashbrat488
A/N: Y'all, it's finally here! I'm so so sorry that it took me so long to get this written and posted but #lifehappened and I'm a bit of a perfectionist so I wanted it to be right. Thank you all so much for following along on Sy and Emma's love story. Your support and encouragement has lifted me up more than you realize. I'm so grateful to everyone that's followed along! I'm super sad that it's over but there may be a one-shot or two in our future for them! Love you all!
#captain syverson#captain syverson fic#henry cavill characters#captain sy#captain syverson fanfiction#henry cavill fanfiction#captain syverson smut#henry cavill#captain syverson fluff#go read this
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𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐎𝐘 𝐗 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — PLANNING PHASE + PREVIEW
(a/n) this is my first ever public writing piece! i’m very excited to share it but i must warn you that it’s a VERY rough around the edges. i’d probably call this a preview as to what i’d like to write as a full fanfic? a small scene from it. i will say i write in an odd style so i heavily apologize for the way i worded things! i wanted to test the waters and see if it’s anything worth continuing i think it could be very fun ! let me know your thoughts. :o)
i like to be transparent in the planning phases of things so i can get a feel of what you guys would like to see more of? you are ALL my beta readers now,,,
i’m thinking of the reader being some sort of journalist? i’m not entirely sure. i love the theme of exploitation and trauma so who better than someone who’s life work is writing about everyone else’s. jack definitely would call them exploitative, cruel, two-faced etc. mirrors of one another. there is something wrong with you. there is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.
How often must you repent to feel the sin go away? Does that ever stop? Or does it always feel like your skin heating up underneath your clothes in shame — have you always lived in shame? The plush couch enveloped you both in a way you thought it would swallow you whole. After what you’d said, you thought it should have. For the feeling to go away, that is. Jack hasn’t said anything since you two had arrived from the chat at the diner. You couldn’t blame him.
In this light however, you let your eyes linger at the way he’d stare down at the floor, lost in his own thoughts. You never noticed it until now, but Jack had this perpetually sorrow expression. Every time he spoke to you — no looked at you, it felt like your very existence was enough to make his heart tender. Not in the way you’d like. Tender like a bruise. The wanton feeling hadn’t gone away for some time now, fingers clasped together in your lap. You turned your head away from his direction. Maybe it the feeling wasn’t meant to go away. Maybe you’d always been like this and he’d make you notice.
And sometimes you really hated him for it.
“Do you remember when we first met each other?” He spoke softly, still not lifting his head up to look at you. Like the very idea of it hurt him.
A hum from your end of the couch. You had interviewed him for an article when you had first met. A fluff piece. Nothing major. Something to make him appealing to the audience.
“And you were wearing that blazer.” he continued, head tilting to the side, threatening to look at you. But not quite there. It was never quite there with Jack. “And you asked why I got into television.”
“I remember.” Spoken like you were talking to a wounded animal. It had been a while since you’d use that voice. Since you’ve been spoken to like this.
“And I had said to you that it was because I was starving for something more.” The last word hung in the air. Tired. Worn out. “You asked what that more was?”
He hadn’t answered last time you’d asked. Only grinned like you’d somehow managed to figure something out deep inside of him.
Now couldn’t stay in one room together without it being with a sort of intensity that demanded you touch whichever way you could. Neither of you moved. Even when he finally locked eyes with you, defeated. Like you’d won. It did not feel like a victory.
“I want to be comforted.”
This admission of feeling small, constrained, pent up and touch starved. This glimpse at what made Jack up. Of grief and pain presented in the form of a man bare, yet fully clothed with clothes you can’t help but think weighed him down. Tie like a leash to some cruel owner that doesn’t allow him to stray further than a few feet away. Sitting in this silence, something had made the final pieces of thread that have acted like a barrier between the two of you unravel. You don’t respond, eyes staring, like a spectator to some act of holiness. Except this is like watching a saint bleed the same as you.
“Comfort me.”
It was said in such a way it feels like he’d been holding in air since he had met you. Or rather like he’s been hollow and something had placed itself in that space. Desperate. Longing. Almost pitiful enough to make you want to stop him from embarrassing himself from the way he pleaded such a thing. You don’t get a chance to. The phrase is repeated. Again and again. Like some sort of prayer.
He slowly lurches forward, crawling the way you’d imagine felt like a punishment. A repentance. For a second, you thought you might reach forward, prevent him from reaching you. Head placed on your lap like a dog.
“Please comfort me.”
#late night with the devil#lnwtd#jack delroy#jack delroy x reader#jack delroy fanfic#lnwtd x reader#reader insert#david dastmalchian#this is a preview !!!#honestly this might even be towards the end of the whole fanfic#but i wanted to put SOMETHING out !#reader can you tell i’m fascinated by religious imagery#let me know your thoughts#jack delroy has been made a pathetic man by me clearly
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helloo, how are you? 💞 can I request a fic about johnnie that's inspired by this video? https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeCLddwV/
sure! (the tiktok shows johnnie walking through a crowd of people with text that says it's giving "boyfriend leading you through the crowd at a party")
party.
pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader
summary: johnnie finds you at a party and leads you through the crowd to dance.
cw: fluff, language
word count: 753 words + edited
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“Babe, where are you?” you shout into your phone with your free hand plugging your ear. The party is extremely packed, with people practically shoulder to shoulder. You’re calling your boyfriend, Johnnie, to see if he’s almost arrived. He had said he was going to be there twenty minutes ago, and he still hasn't arrived. You were starting to get pissed off.
“I promise I’m on my way! The traffic sucks dick and we’ve been in a stand still for the last ten minutes. I’ll be there soon, y/n,” Johnnie responds.
You huff out an annoyed sigh, getting fed up with waiting when you’re all alone in the corner. Hiding from hoards of people was not your idea of a fun night, even with liquid courage.
“Okay… I’m in the back corner, there’s too many people here. I’m not moving ‘til you get here.” you say sternly, trying your best not to be mad at him.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m going as fast as I can, I swear,” Johnnie says, attempting to comfort you.
“I know. I’m sorry, Johnnie. I’m not mad at you, I know you can’t control the traffic. I just miss you and you know I hate big crowds. I need you here with me to bring me out of my shell!” you say. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. It’s getting too loud to stay on the phone any longer.”
“Bye, baby. I’ll be there soon!” he responds. You hang up and look around the crowded party. Everyone you know is here, plus everyone invited at least three of their friends. Surely this is one of the biggest parties of the year. You looked around for familiar faces, Jake, Tara, Carrington, but you couldn’t find anyone.
After five more minutes of lingering in the corner, trying not to focus on how loud it was and how many people were surrounding you, you look up to see Johnnie walking toward you. He’s parting the crowd with ease, he always seems to catch eyes wherever he goes. He didn’t even realize it, you don’t think, but people were always staring at him. You knew he was attractive, but you didn’t realize until after you had started dating just how popular he was in LA. Any time you went to a party with him, you had no trouble working your way through crowds. He just had a way of making people move for him, usually to get a better look.
His eyes meet yours in the crowd and he instantly lights up. He quickly walks to greet you, placing his hands on either side of your waist and gently pressing your back into the wall behind you, kissing you hello.
You wrap your hands around his neck and return the kiss, smiling up at him as he pulls away, “Hi, baby,” he says softly in your ear.
“Hi, love,” you reply. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t apologize! You’re here now, and that’s all that matters!” you kiss him again and pull his body closer to yours as he moves his hands down to gently squeeze your ass.
“You look amazing tonight! Well you always look perfect but you look even perfecter tonight,” Johnnie shouts over the loud song that’s echoing throughout the building.
You laugh, “Awww, thanks baby!”
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t constantly shower you with compliments and worship the ground you walk on?!” he asks teasingly, but you know deep down he isn’t joking. “Wanna go dance?”
“I would love to go dance with my super hot, amazing boyfriend,” you say, which causes him to blush.
Johnnie interlocks one of his hands with yours, fingers intertwining, and leads you through the crowd to the dance floor. He looks back every couple seconds to make sure you’re okay, giving you little grins and winks each time, which you relish. He’s so cute. You often wonder how you got so lucky.
Once you’re at the dance floor, Johnnie twirls you and pulls your body against his again, still holding your hand from before, but placing his other hand on your lower back. You grind your hips into his and sway your bodies side to side to the rhythm of the music. He leans in close to you, so your foreheads are almost touching.
“I love you!” he shouts.
“I love you more,” you add.
“I love you most,” he finishes, and closes the gap between your lips again.
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short but cute! i hope you all enjoyed <3
#sh4wty18#original one shot#one shot#fluff#original fiction#johnnie guilbert#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie guilbert x you#johnnie guilbert fluff#johnnie guilbert one shot#fluffy one shot#johnnie guilbert fanfic
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Chapter 3 : Channeling your love
warnings: fluff, PTSD, trauma, future smut I prommy, suggestive shit, snow
Description: You and Joel end up going on patrol together
Joel’s eyes start to flutter open as the morning sunlight beams through the blinds of the window in the recording room. Looking around, Joel’s notices you're fast asleep with his leg still sprawled across your thighs, your hand clutching his jean covered calf. He watches you like this for a while, the way your chest moves up and down with quiet breaths, the way your eyelashes curl up. You start to mumble in your sleep and Joel listens closely, most of it is incoherent and doesn’t make much sense, until finally in a clearer voice he can hear you say “please, just let me go”. Joel’s forehead scrunches with concern, and he can feel his heart break a little for you, just what have you been through? He thinks to himself. He decides to nudge you, trying to pull you out of whatever nightmare or memory you were in. You open your eyes, taking a deep inhale through your nose, exhaling as you stretch out your arms and neck hearing some of your bones crack as you do. You look at Joel and smile, “Mornin’ sunshine”. Joel’s surprised, despite what he heard you say in your sleep, you seem chipper as ever, ready for the day. You don’t wait for a response, “How’s your foot feeling?” you gesture towards it as you bump your hand tired but playfully on his calf. Joel looks down at it, moving it around and twinkles his toes for a feeling, still a bit sore but nothing he can’t manage. “It’s a helluva lot better than it was last night, you got a strong swing in those arms.” Joel gestures to you as he crosses his arms behind his head, stretching out his body to make himself comfortable. You chuckle at his response “Hmm, well, I’m just glad I didn't permanently break you Joel.” you say as you check the time on your bedside alarm clock and see that it says 6:30. “I gotta start getting ready in thirty minutes” you tell Joel as you begin to yawn. Joel nods, removing his leg off of your thighs and pushes himself up off of the couch “Yeah, should prolly get back before Ellie wakes up” he mentions flustered.
You both hear a knock at the front door from downstairs and the door opening, “Hey, it’s me.” You recognize that it’s Maria’s voice, “Can I come up?” she asks. You sigh and pinch your nose, knowing exactly why she’s here. Well at least she isn’t ordering for me only a night before to go on patrol you think to yourself. Maria’s already walked upstairs into your home before you can answer her, and she sees Joel standing next to the couch, his hair ruffled, as you're still sitting on the couch rolling your eyes “Oh, please, by all means make yourself comfortable if you wanna just invite yourself in.” Maria scoffs at you and rolls her eyes as well, “Well I see my brother in law already has. Joel.” Maria remarks at Joel giving him a nod, he doesn’t miss the look of suspicion or distrust in her eyes. “Good morning, Maria. I was just stopping by, I don’t know if you heard but our dear host is letting Ellie take on some of the reins for hosting their show.” Joel tells her avoiding explanation. Maria smirks, “I did! That’s actually a part of why I’m here.” she decides to let go of her suspicions of him for now and looks to you, “One of our patrol guys, Brennan, caught a pretty nasty fever, weather must've gotten to him, so we’re short on forces for tomorrow. I thought with Ellie’s new promotion,” she says the word making finger quotes around it, “you would be the one up for the job. Just one day, I promise.”
You groan as you sit up from the couch, “Ellie only started yesterday, she still has a lot to learn before she can start doing everything by herself here.” As you say this Maria shakes her head, “She’ll be fine, Ellie’s a smart girl. Plus we have a deal, remember? Any order I give you, you take it because you are one of the few adults in Jackson that can really handle yourself outside the walls, and I let you keep doing your, thing here” She gestures to your cluttered work space as she says this. You take a long sigh, nodding “I know, Maria, I know but now isn't a good time. Isn’t there anyone else who can do it?” Joel steps in, having listened to the whole conversation “I’d be happy to take it on if that’s okay with you” he offers, Maria turns to him “Well that's real nice of you to offer Joel, but you’ve already been posted for search and guard duty with Tommy tomorrow. Don’t you have a kid you should be looking after right now?” Maria responds sternly. Joel looks at you and then back to Maria “We weren’t finished talking.” Joel matches her sternness in his response. Your breath hitches at this, and you decide to step back into the conversation, “Fucking fine! I’ll do it, ya happy Maria?” She smirks, “Very, you’ll be starting at 6:30 tomorrow morning with Gregory” She responds.
Fucking Gregory? You think to yourself, you had gone on one date with him years ago, and hooked up a couple times after because it was just something to do for you. He didn’t show any interest in your work, and the sex was…disappointing. You remember Eugene asking you why Gregory was telling everyone you two were officially dating “He’s practically bragging about it Ash '' he'd told you. You decided not to approach the situation to avoid confrontation, but instead broke the news after airing Rumors by Fleetwood Mac on the radio, speaking into your mic “So listen guys, I’ve kinda been seeing someone recently, and I thought it would only be appropriate if I told him how I felt by playing this next song for you guys, Not Fair by Lily Allen. This is for you Gregory. Be sure to listen closely, everyone!” You had slammed the mic back onto your desk as the song began, getting up to dance along in your office without a care in the world. He’d confronted you about it the next day calling you “immature” and “just as lousy a lay” before storming off telling you to “grow and up and go fuck yourself”, and you’d avoided him ever since.
Joel notices a look of discomfort on your face, Who the hell is Gregory? He thinks to himself. “Alright, I’ll see you both at posting tomorrow morning.” Maria says before she goes to exit, leaving you and Joel alone again. Joel clears his throat before speaking up, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you back there.” he apologizes. “It's not your fault Joel, really. Maria’s pretty much always on my ass about work. I appreciate you trying to help though.” You respond earnestly. You turn your head towards your alarm clock and see it says 6:50, “I gotta start getting ready for the day, a lot to do, lemme walk you out Joel.” He follows you to the front door, holding it open for his exit, “By the way,” you start “I won’t mention you spending the night here to Ellie, don’t worry.” Joel looks at you and blushes, “Sure- right thanks. She’s young, she might assume…Y’know.” he says while wiping his mustache lightly with his thumb, “Right…Exactly…” You agree sheepishly. Back to being awkward with each other I guess, you think “Could you ask her to come over early when you get back? We’ve got a long day ahead of us, she might wanna pack a bag with her to spend the night here as well.” Joel is nodding his head along with your words as you make your request, “No problem, I’ll just tell her I ran into you and Maria earlier when I get back, M’ sure she’ll be too tired to question it.” You smirk and look down at your shoes in a timid form. “I’ll see you around?” You ask, and Joel smiles back at you, “Definitely.”
When Ellie arrives you’ve already showered and changed into a clean set of clothes. You spend the whole day crunching to teach her as much as she could learn in as little time as possible. Ellie feels your stress, knowing you want everything to be right, “Calm down R.Q! I promise you I’m gonna be fine! Let's take a break, please?” You sigh and agree, apologizing for how stern you’ve been. “How about you show me what you’ve picked out for your set list tomorrow?” Ellie shakes her head at you, holding her journal close to her chest. “No way dude, you’re gonna have to wait to hear it until tomorrow. I want it to be a surprise!” Ellie smirks. “You know I won’t be able to listen in when I’m out on patrol tomorrow, Maria doesn’t exactly allow us to carry radio’s around when we’re dealing with infected.” you tell her. Ellie doesn’t let up, “I know, but something tells me you’ll find a way to hear it. I promise you it won’t suck! You can trust me.” You give Ellie a smile and decide to let it go, “Alright, alright, I trust you.” you tell her chuckling and you see Ellie do a fist bump by her side, whispering “Fuck yeah” to herself.
You decide to give Ellie a thirty minute break from work and she goes to sit down on your couch to write in her journal out of sight from you. When she plops herself down on the couch and opens her journal, she looks up and catches a glimpse of the two used drinking glasses next to a half filled glass bottle of whiskey on your coffee table. She looks in your direction and notices you're staring off into space with a pencil in your hand when you were supposedly writing a list of reminders for Ellie to check off tomorrow, and you're humming along to what's playing on the radio, Come and Get Your Love by Redbone. Ellie squints as she observes you and starts thinking to herself. It dawns on her that Joel was up really early this morning, and she’s usually the one who wakes up before him these past couple weeks since she started working with you, and telling her that he “just so happened” to run into you and Maria this morning. Ellie’s gears are running, there’s no real proof that it is what she thinks it is, but she has a hunch and that's enough for her to make up her mind. Her first thought is ew, really? But then she thinks about the times Joel has lit up whenever she talks about you, his eagerness to greet you whenever he comes over to walk her home at the end of the day, and Ellie starts to smile at the idea of you bringing out a softer side of him. Okay Ellie, I guess it’s time to play cupid for these crazy kids she decides.
You’re lost in thought, playing with the pencil in your hand as you remember Joel watching you dance the night before, laying your cheek on your palm as you stare off. “Knock knock” Ellie says as she physically knocks on the office door frame twice and pulls you back to reality. You see her smiling with her arms crossed, “Hey, you have 15 more minutes for your break right? What’s up?” You ask her as you check your watch for the time in case you were spacing out for too long. “I’m feeling pretty hungry, can we get something to eat?” She asks, you smile and nod at her, “Sure, you wanna pick up some sandwiches from Seth?” you ask. Ellie’s face pinches, “I don’t like Seth, he always smells like alcohol and stares at me weird.” You purse your lips and furrow your brows at what she says, “Yeah I don’t like him either, makes a pretty good sandwich though.” You say, “That he does” Ellie agrees. You see her stare at the floor awkwardly assuming she’s not sure how to go about the situation. “Tell you what,” you start, “How about I go pick up sandwiches for the both of us and you can stay here to hold down the fort?” Perfect, Ellie thinks, but plays coy by responding “Oh you don’t have to do that.” “It’s no problem really, besides I haven’t left the apartment yet today and should get some fresh air.” I knew Joel didn’t just run into you this morning Ellie thinks and she smiles “Well, if you insist, thank you R.Q.” she says and you get up giving her a pat on the shoulder as you pass to grab your coat. “I should be back in about 10 minutes, okay Ellie?” “Okay!” she responds and you walk out the door.
“Time to search for the perfect song.” She says to herself, going straight to the shelf of your favorite albums. She remembered when she’d asked you about it,
“Those my dear are my personal all time favorites.” You had said with a sense of pride. Ellie had skimmed through the collection and didn’t recognize most of them, “I’ve never heard you play any of these on the radio before.” she pointed out. “Good eye, I usually save them for very special occasions.” “What kind of special occasions?” she questioned, and you shrugged, “Dunno, maybe to dance with someone really special.” Ellie took a mental note of this.
Now she was currently searching through albums reading out song names on the backs to see if she could remember any specific song you may have mentioned in the past. One particular album sticks out to her, and places the cd in a player, skipping songs that didn't have the right “mood” to them within the first five seconds, and then she hears it, letting the song play out fully “That’s the one” she says. She ejects the album from the cd player putting it back in its case. Walking over to your desk, she pulls out her journal and crosses out one of the songs for later in the day on her list, praying that you’ll hear the song with Joel once it airs tomorrow.
Then it occurs to Ellie, Oh shit, how do I even know if they’re gonna be partnered together tomorrow? Ellie hears the front door open and close, “Hey I’m back” you yell up to her. Ellie quickly slams her journal closed and quickly gets up from your desk chair. You place both sandwiches on your kitchen counter and start grabbing plates for the both of you. She walks up from behind you, “Welcome back R.Q…” She says. You turn to look at her with confusion “‘Welcome back’? Why so formal kiddo, someone die while I was gone?” You question half jokingly, slightly worried something happened. She shakes her head, “I was just wondering, who are you patrolling with tomorrow? Do you know?” She asks you avidly. Now you’re even more confused, but you think maybe she could tell you were stressing over it, you cringe a little at the thought of Gregory. “Just a guy named Gregory, why do you ask?” “It’s nothing, you just seemed kinda stressed about tomorrow and I was curious.”She says. You pout, feeling guilty for supposedly worrying her. You turn to face her, “That’s so sweet of you to worry about me Ellie, but I’ll be fine, I promise.” You see she’s not totally satisfied with your response, “Are you really just worried about me? Or are you nervous about tomorrow? You can tell me.” You cross your arms across your chest and pick your head up, attempting to put on the appearance of the ‘cool adult’ she could confide in. Ellie thinks for a moment as you stand in front of her waiting for a response, “I just realized I need to do something, something really important.” She blurts out finally. You’re taken aback, “Okay, does this ‘something’ have anything to do with hosting tomorrow?” You ask “Yes.” She replies bluntly. You squint at her, “Do you need my help?” you continue questioning her, “No, it’s also really important that I do this by myself.” she replies sounding almost desperate while she bites the inside of her cheek. “Hm.” You simply react as your lips purse in consideration, “How long do you need?” you ask, “Just an hour, tops.” Ellie sounds very sure of herself. You decide to let her do her thing, “Okay, but if you’re even a minute late I will have to tell Joel about it. Plus I will not be thrilled, and you don’t wanna see me when I’m…not thrilled” You tell her trying to hold a sense of authority in your voice, but you’re still giving her the benefit of doubt. Ellie sighs in relief, and gives you a hug as she says “This is gonna be worth it for all of us, trust me.” Your eyebrow raises as you hug her back, “Wait wha-” “Gotta go bye!” You watch her run downstairs “What about lunch?” you yell out, “Not hungry!” she responds, and you find yourself dumbfounded once you’re alone.
Fifty minutes go by while you’re alone, packing a backpack of supplies for the morning. Once Ellie returns she runs up the stairs to greet you, “Hey Ellie, you get what you needed?” you ask and she nods her head excitedly, giving you a big smile. “You wanna tell what was so important for you to do?” you question, shaking her head and replies “mm-mm” while still smiling. You chuckle and reply, “You are so weird.” You wake up early the next morning at 5:30am, sleeping on your couch so Ellie could take the bed. Two nights in a row on this thing, I’m gonna have back problems before I’m forty you think to yourself. You get dressed in the bathroom after a quick shower, trying to avoid waking Ellie up. You gather your backpack of supplies, double checking you have everything you’d need for the trip. You go into your office and grab a piece of paper to write in large letters ‘You got this Ellie :) Proud of you and remember, HAVE FUN!!!!!’ You place it on your bedside cabinet for her to find before carefully tucking her into the covers. She rummages in her sleep a bit and you make your way to the patrol meeting gate.
You’re waiting 30 minutes looking for signs of Gregory with your guns and weaponry ready, It’s not like I wanna be partnered with him either, but he doesn’t need to torture me by making me wait, the sooner we get this done the better you think to yourself impatiently. You feel a finger tap on your shoulder and spin around to meet eyes with Joel. You give him a warm smile and tell him good morning softly, “Hey, so, Tommy just told me we’re partnering up. Says Gregory can’t make it today, musta caught whatever Brennan has.” Joel tells you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise and a sense of relief washes over you. “Who’s Tommy partnering up with?” You ask, Joel shrugs and says “He’ll figure it out”.
At 9:30am Tommy makes his way to your place letting himself in and calling out Ellie’s name. She’s sitting at your office desk taking notes and looking at the time on her watch to keep on schedule. She turns to look at Tommy, “I shouldn’t have to be the one telling you this, but you shouldn't go getting people sick jus’ so you can play matchmaker kid.” Ellie blinks, “Did you partner them?” She asks on the edge of her seat. Tommy sighs and nods his head, “Yeah, they’re out patrolling together as we speak.” Ellie yells a celebratory “YES!” and thanks Tommy, “Yeah yeah, you owe me one kiddo.” Tommy says and then questions “How’d you do it anyway? Get Gregory sick?” Ellie shrugs, “Spit in his drink when he wasn’t looking at the bar. To be fair he seemed pretty smashed, so that's on him.” Tommy rubs his hands on his face hearing this, “Really hope Joel doesn’t blow it for Gregory’s sake, christ….”
You follow behind Joel making the rounds to search for any infected or signs of trespassers for a couple of hours, snow begins to fall as the sky grows darker. Joel’s been keeping an eye on you the whole day, making sure you feel safe, but you’ve been nothing but completely focused the whole day, finger steady on your rifle trigger and ready to act when opportunity strikes. He didn’t think you had this kind of side to you, Guess that’s why Maria trusts them on these jobs he realizes. Occasionally you’d watch Joel and come to the same conclusion about him, Always got his head in the game I see, good. The wind starts picking up harshly as time passes, and the snowfall continues growing stronger, quickly covering each other's footprints. “We should get to some shelter for the night, I don’t see this storm letting up anytime soon.” You suggest, “Tommy n’ Maria been saying this winters only gonna get worse. We should hurry.” Joel agrees.
You spend thirty minutes walking in the storm before finally approaching some proper shelter that Joel mentioned he’d spent the night in before with another patroller named Hailey. You frown at the thought of this, until he also mentioned that she spent the whole time sulking because she wasn’t partnered with some boy she liked, “Told her she should just tell him how she feels, n’ I saw them dancing at the bar just last week.” He smiles at you, and you smile back “Well look at you, Mr. Matchmaker Miller! Should I tell Maria to start partnering you up with love hungry singles? You could start charging them for counseling.” You teased him making your way up the stairs behind, as he’s shaking his head and chuckling. “Sure, you could be my first official customer.” he says while holding the door open for you to enter, he waves his hand to bow graciously at you “Step into my office why don’t ya?” You start giggling as you enter through the door, Everyone I’ve met in Jackson who’s talked about this man said he was a stern old fucker with a stick up his ass, but he’s really just…a big dork, like Ellie…You realize.
You stomp your boots on the ground and take off your bag and jacket to drop them to the floor in the entrance corridor, and peel your boots off to keep snow from making water tracks inside. You walk over to one of the cabinets to search through them. “Whatcha doin?” Joel asks as he’s taking off his jacket, “Lookin’ for goodies” You respond, “Sometimes patrollers leave stuff behind and completely forget they even left it there.” “Ahh okay” Joel says, walking up to a pantry on the wall of the kitchen, you hear him open it up grabbing something and you turn to see him holding a mostly filled tall bottle of alcohol. He looks at you and smiles “You mean somethin’ like this?” You nod and smile back, “Yeah, something like that.” Joel walks closer and points behind you “I also set up a radio in here for future visits, thought it’d be nice to listen to you n’ Ellie if I ever get stuck out here.” You look to see a portable radio set up on a small table next to the couch. Looking back at Joel he’s still smiling at you, “Wanna turn it on and see what Ellie’s up to?” He asks in an earnest soft voice.
You feel your cheeks burning up, you start thinking about what Joel said about coming to this place only once before, but the place looks well put together compared to other Jackson hideouts, none of the furniture is dusty, and there’s actually a decent supply of stock besides the alcohol. “That story you told me, about only being here with that girl Hailey, was that true?” Joel looks flustered at your question, he clears his throat, “Well that did really happen once, ‘cept it was actually Tommy who helped her out while I just napped on the couch. I liked the place well enough that I kept coming back here to make it my own spot. You’re actually the first person I’ve brought here since I found it with Hailey and Tommy.” Joel swallows before he continues, “I’m sorry I lied to you, I think I was just tryna impress ya.” Joel’s cheeks are flushed red as he rubs the back of his head, looking up to you and back down to the floor awkwardly. You sigh, shaking your head as you watch him, face now completely serious “I just have one question for you, Miller.” Joel looks at you with a shared serious but nervous look on his face, ready to have it from you, and in a completely firm voice you ask “Did Hailey and that guy she liked ever really get together?” Joel’s eyes widen, he chuckles nervously, “Uh yeah, they’re actually really sweet together.” You break the very stern look you're pretending to hold on your face, snorting at Joel’s response, and start laughing. Joel sighs in relief and chuckles with you “God damn you had me real scared there for a moment.” Joel admits, you cover your mouth as you giggle and start apologizing for tricking him “I don’t care if you’re not really a matchmaker Joel, well, maybe a little disappointed but really.” Joel smiles as you continue to giggle at him “Yeah yeah, ya got me.” He admits defeat. You take a deep breath as you wipe away some tears from laughing, “C’mon, let's hear what Ellie’s playing, she told me she wanted to surprise me yesterday and I’ve been dying to hear what she picked out.” you tell Joel “Alright, start ‘er up” he says gesturing to the radio.
You tune into your channel on the radio and immediately hear Ellie’s voice booming with excitement through the static, “Sure is piling up out there, I guess our dear Radio Queen’s gonna be stuck out in the trenches for the night. That’s okay though! I’m fucking awesome at this job, still, I hope you’re listening R.Q. and staying nice and warm wherever you are.” You place your hand on your cheek and feel pride takeover your heart, I’m so fucking proud of her you think. “And Joel, if you’re listening, take good care of them, and don’t be a hard ass for once, I don’t want you gettin’ me fired' when I’ve only just started! Anywho for those of you just listening, my name is Ellie, and I’m the world's BEST radio host, unless R.Q. is also listening, then I’m second best.” Learn To Fly by Foo Fighters starts playing and you immediately start turning the sound dial down when you recognize it, “Not a fan?” Joel asks, smirking at you. You snort, “I mean, I have copies of some of their albums at my place obviously, but they're not my favorite.” You admit, Joel hands you the bottle and you take it saying “I’m still so proud of Ellie, so I say cheers to that.” and you take a sip, making a face of slight disgust at the taste shaking your head after. “Yeah I’m real proud of her too'' Joel says as he takes the bottle back from you and takes a sip for himself, showing no reaction to the taste, just watching you as he sips and smirks at you. Your heart skips a beat watching him look at you.
Time passes and the sun has fully set outside of the cabin, you and Joel had lit a bunch of candles around the living room to keep away the dark, making yourselves comfortable. Joel now watches you dance along to Mr. Brightside by The Killers, several more sips of alcohol in both of your systems, using your socks to slide across the hardwood floor as you dance. Joel is sitting on the floor laying his back against the front of the couch, eyes following your every movement as his hand taps against his knee along with the rhythm. He takes another sip from the bottle keeping his eyes on you. You see him sipping while attempting to slide your way over to him, tripping over your toes and landing forward to catch yourself on your hands and knees in the process. Joel almost gets up to check if you’re okay but you start laughing at yourself, rolling onto your back as you do and Joel starts giggling with you as he watches. You roll yourself back over onto your hands and knees and start to crawl his way. Your ass is perked up slightly as you grab the bottle from his hand and stretch your legs out to sit yourself up in an almost split like pose, with one hand that's steadying you placed on the floor. The other is holding the neck of the bottle as you take a large sip, keeping your eyes on Joel the whole time. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after placing the bottle on the floor and Joel licks his lips involuntarily, watching you. You smile and flutter your eyelashes at him as the song fades out.
Ellie’s voice starts booming through the radio and slight static again, “So you guys! I have the amazing Eugene here with me right now because he wanted to come by and say hi, and I thought it’d be appropriate if he sat with me while I hosted for the remainder of the night. How would you say I’m doin’ so far Eugene?” *A beat passes*, “Y’know Ellie I’d say you are doin’ a fantastic job so far, I guarantee if Ash and Joel are listening’ right now, they’re real proud of you.” “Aw thanks Eugene, I just hope they’re listening!” You giggle and start cheering for Ellie, “We are so proud o’ you girlie.” you slur your words a bit, still holding the same position while pointing your hand at the radio, Joel rests his head against the couch mattress and starts laughing at your cheers. You stop laughing when you hear the next song start to play, Good Dancers by The Sleepy Jackson “Oh my god” You say. Joel looks at you and asks what's wrong, You start to giggle again, “This is one of my absolute favorite songs, Ellie must've gone through my drawer of favorites and wanted to surprise me. I usually save those songs for special occasions.” You tell Joel, and he gets up off of the ground, holding out a hand to you, “Y’wanna dance?” he asks as you're still seated on the floor. You bite your lower lip as you smile and nod, placing your hand in his, and he lifts you up to your feet. He takes your left hand with his right, placing his left hand on your hip, and you place your right up on his shoulder. You begin to dance around the room together as the music plays and you start to giggle as he smiles down at you.
Don’t always dream for what you want
But I love to watch good dancers talk
My heart is stronger than you all
But I love to watch good dancers talk
You lay your head against Joel’s chest, taking in the smell of him. Whiskey, gunpowder, and pine. You sway together as the music plays, and Joel lifts his hand from your thigh to take your chin into his hand and gently lifts it for you to look into each others eyes. Your sway’s start to slow down, “Can I kiss you?” Joel asks you as you continue swaying, your eyes widen, and you feel so drunk and yet so sobered all of a sudden, taking in a deep breath. “Yes” you whisper, and Joel cups your face with both hands. He lowers his face to yours, whispering “Are you sure?” You look down at his lips and then up to his eyes and nod “Yes Joel” He reaches down connecting his lips with yours, and you lean into his kiss as you close your eyes. His lips feel so soft and gentle against yours and you feel butterflies rise in your belly as you kiss and sway.
Don't always dream for what you want
But I love to watch good dancers talk
(When you think with your mind
You've got a place to go now)
My heart is stronger than you all
(When you think with your mind
You've got a place to go now)
But I love to watch good dancers talk
(When you think with your mind
You've got a place to go now)
The song slowly fades out and you open your eyes, your lips still connected, the first thing you see is Joel’s gray hair and a memory seeps in. Something awful, something you blocked out a long time ago. Then Ellie’s voice booms out from the radio and you jump away from Joel. “Alright everybody, you’re not gonna believe this but Eugene just told me he once saw The Rolling Stones perform live! Can you tell us more about-” Joel turns the radio dial off as he says “Let’s just- turn this off for now...” He approaches you and goes in for another kiss and you accept, his hands slide down from your back down to the back pockets of your jeans. A memory starts crawling back into your mind and you hear a man's voice belonging to someone you tried hard to forget a long time ago say look at you pretty little thing. You begin to put your hands up against Joel’s chest trying to push him back, and when he doesn't realize, you start to panic “Don't-wait-don’t FUCKING touch me!” you exclaim and Joel backs away from you immediately. He holds his hands up noticing you panting with a wild look in your eyes and tears falling down your face when you try to avoid his eye contact “Whoa- hey, I am so sorry” he says as you look at him remembering where you are. “Are you…okay?” He asks you with genuine concern, and you just stare at Joel like you don’t even recognize him in silence. “I need a minute, sorry.” You say this as you quickly exit the living room and find the nearest room to enter, slamming the door behind you.
You find yourself in a dark bathroom and light a candle with a matchbox set next to it on the windowsill, noticing your hands are trembling. When you look at yourself in the mirror you see tears have already been streaming down your face, I always suffer in silence, you think to yourself. You start to turn the faucet to run the water for noise but are quickly reminded that the plumbing system doesn’t work here, cursing motherfucker under your breath. Your body is trembling and you’re choking back big sobs that start to overwhelm you. Forming your hand into a fist you bring it to your open mouth and bite down a bit to muffle yourself before you can start screaming. You spend a long time like this in the bathroom, seeing yourself in the mirror you think you look pathetic. I can’t do this with Joel, he reminds me of what happened, and remembering hurts too fucking much you think to yourself. You decide you have to distance yourself from him to protect yourself, as much as you like him, you can’t handle how you think and feel when you look at him now. The guilt of it begins to weigh on you, you don’t want to hurt Joel but you have to.
Joel spends his time alone in the living room sitting anxiously in silence, shaking his leg the whole time without notice or realization. He replays what happened between you two in his head, did I overstep asking her to kiss me? What just happened? He thinks to himself trying to assess what he could’ve done to offend or make you uncomfortable. Is it my age? I’m old enough to be their father, maybe hearing Ellie’s voice made her realize that and it made them uncomfortable…He can’t stop thinking about it, the moment was so perfect for him, until it wasn’t. I really like them…we’re in big trouble, Joel…
You finally step out of the bathroom with puffy eyes and bite marks on your hand. Joel stands up as soon as you step into the living room, rubbing the denim covering his thighs up and down to do something with his hands, “Hey, uh, are you alright? Looks like you’ve been crying.” You fold your lips and wipe your cheek in case of any tears he might notice on your face, “Yeah I’m fine, sorry.” you say with no emotion in your voice, extremely straightforward as if you’re still outside on patrol.
Joel notices your total change in tone and grows more concerned for you, “Do you wanna talk…? About what just happened I mean?” You put your hands in your pockets trying to hide how much they’re shaking and purse your lips out as you shake your head no, “Honestly Joel, I think we should just get some sleep, we have a pretty early morning ahead of us.” Joel nods his head in disappointment, “Right.” he replies.
You walk away from him saying “I can take the couch, the beds all yours.” “Okay.” he says back. You can hear a sadness in his voice and feel his eyes on you as you face away from him laying yourself down on the couch. “Alright well, goodnight, and um. Yeah.” Joel ends the conversation and you hear his footsteps further away from you until you hear a final thud against bed springs from afar. You shut your eyes tight and cover your mouth with your hand so he can’t hear you crying again, curling up your body in a fetal position as you quietly cry yourself to sleep.
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the new girl (preview)
on your first day as ateez’s new pet, they test how much training you’ll need.
this is a PREVIEW to a full length fic im working on which may end up as a series. not sure when exactly it will come out, but i wanted to post something & see what you guys think. since this will be a longer fic than ive done before, i want to know people will enjoy it before i spend a lot of time editing & perfecting it. so reblog & comment if this is something you’d enjoy and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see in the fic!!
warnings: polyamory (ateez x reader), reader is afab and referred to as she/her, sir kink, discussion of bdsm training & dynamics, implied pet play, spanking, implied punishment
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[PREVIEW]
“We’re going to give you a little test, pet,” Hongjoong says. “It’s not to see if we want you, because you’re already ours, but to see how much training you’ll need.”
You nod in understanding and he clicks his tongue, already displeased. “The first lesson is verbal answers, it seems,” he says. “Unless we tell you not to speak, you respond to everything we say in words. Do you understand?”
You nod again, but realise your mistake quickly and squeak out a weak “yes sir.” Hongjoong smiles approvingly.
“Strip down to your panties,” he says. “Put them on the chair then come back to stand over here. We’ll see which commands you know.”
You breathe out a “yes sir” and do as he instructs. You turn away from the men as you undress, too embarrassed to face them but you can still feel their eyes burning into you. Your hands shake as you unbutton your shirt, folding it neatly before placing it on the chair as instructed. Your bra quickly joins it, then the skirt and tights until all that’s left are your tiny white panties, clinging to your hips as you turn around nervously.
You feel exposed, clad only in one flimsy garment and surrounded by eight fully-clothed men. Their gazes are dark and intense on you and you’ve never felt more vulnerable, but they look pleased, which eases your nerves slightly.
“Very good,” Hongjoong says approvingly, gaze fixed on your chest. You blush, hands instinctively reaching to cover your breasts but you think better of it before you do. Just in the nick of time, you think, if the scowl on Yeosang’s face is anything to go by.
“Smart girl,” Seonghwa chuckles. “Are you ready to start?”
“Yes, sir,” you say. He smiles gently and beckons you towards him. As you approach him, the others move to form a circle around you. You gulp, somehow feeling even smaller than before. Now you’re trapped.
“Right then,” Seonghwa says, clapping his hands together. You flinch at the sudden sound and you hear a few of them chuckle. With your eyes cast down, you miss the glint that crosses each of their eyes at your momentary fear. “We’ll start by seeing which commands you already know. We’ll teach you the ones you don’t.”
“Yes, sir,” you say.
“Look at me,” he says. You look up, meeting his gaze nervously and he smiles.
“Down,” he says.
It takes you a moment to register the command, and by the time you do it’s clearly too late. Seonghwa sighs, looking disappointed. He nods to a man behind you and before you can register it, five hard slaps are delivered to your ass. You yelp and try to lean away but the man snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you backwards into him.
“Disobeying already,” he breathes and you recognise the voice as Wooyoung. You whine and he slaps you again, this time reaching around to hit the front of your thigh.
“Don’t complain,” he grumbles. You breathe out an apology and he hums, rubbing the pink mark on your thigh with momentary tenderness. “Turn around.”
You turn to face him, shyly meeting his gaze and he pets your hair. “When we say ‘down’,” he says, “you get on your knees. Instantly and without question. If you don’t, you’ll be punished. So let’s try that again. Down.”
Desperate to obey, you let your legs give out, falling to your knees with hopeful eyes on him. He smiles, pressing a hand to your cheek and letting you nuzzle into it. “Good dog,” he says.
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please let me know your thoughts :) you can also send me an ask if you have requests but don’t want to comment! love🖤🖤
#ateez smut#ateez hard hours#ateez x reader#kpop smut#hongjoong smut#yeosang smut#mingi smut#yunho smut#wooyoung smut#san smut#choi san smut#jongho smut#seonghwa smut
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.
#sometimes I feel like it all must be some cruel joke#I feel like if I have a purpose it’s to be used by other people#like I’m just a tool in everyone else’s stories for them to better themselves#and I get to stay behind and just be used and hurt over and over and over again#the amount of times I’ve come across people who bullied me when we were younger who have told me#‘oh I was terrible to you but it helped me to learn and grow and realize it wasn’t okay and I’m a better person now ☺️’#like that’s nice I guess I’m glad you’re not gonna hurt anyone else#but I still hear the scars and always will#mother has said something similar about how badly she wanted a daughter but then she wond up with me#but it was good for her!!! she learned so much!!!!#that’s nice but I was told me whole childhood I wasn’t what you wanted because I wasn’t girly and didn’t fit the exact image you in your hea#and now I bear the scars#story of my life over and over and over again#I try not to believe in fate and being out here for a purpose and destinies and all that#because I’m pretty sure that that’s all I’m good for#getting hurt so others can learn to be better#now I’m a depressed anxious crumpled up version of what I once was#and I’ve been that way for years#I don’t think it’s going to get better until I move#I need to just get away from here#a fresh start is what I need I guess#it feels so far away
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it’s definitely not the right time to do this but it’s bugging me so much i need to ask
would anyone still be interested in reading more analyses/interpretations about Damon’s photoshoots with Nace/Jan and Jure after many days or maybe i shouldn’t even bother to write them?
#if this post comes off as me searching for validation then for better or worse yes. yes i do#i still feel insecure af about whatever i wrote about Kris’ and Bojan’s photos and what i have in the drafts for Nace so far#i see everyone writing and i wanna write too because i’m ✨thinking✨ but then i’m like#“who cares you’re late and you write shit. not interesting. move on”#but yet i won’t be home until Monday#and i don’t have time to write right now so this is getting pushed back more and more#and if i do end up writing stuff i don’t want it to end up hitting a wall and just. go unnoticed#and i’m so sorry for bringing this in the band tag but as i said it’s bugging me so much……#this is emma speaking#joker out
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[to the tune of the Lego Movie’s “Everything is Awesome”]
Everything is stressful! 🙃
Every-thing causes anxiety! 🙃
Everything is stressful!! 🙃🙃
When you have ADHD! 🙃🙃🙃
#I can’t take this fucking roller coaster of a housing crisis much longer I’m going to fucking SCREAM#I don’t think I’m being unreasonable by setting a boundary after all the concessions I’ve made but now she wants to push to move in date#back?? HOW DO I KNOW UR EVEN GOING TO MOVE IN AT ALL#LITTLE MISS MONTH-TO-MONTH 😭😭😭💀💀💀💀💀#apple talks#to the tune of spam#alright tw time! here comes the suicidal thoughts!#so my last housemate moved out a few months ago and my parents have been helping me with rent since then#but it’s fucking expensive in California#and I’m struggling to a) find a new roommate b) find a new apartment or c) find a better paying job#the stress has literally been killing me I can’t fucking sleep I eat even less and I’m up with 4 am panic attacks!#and my parents don’t have infinite money! so on Xmas they threatened to pay a buttload of money to force me back to Ohio bc somehow THAT#expense is less than helping me with rent a little while longer#I would rather fucking kill myself than move back to Ohio I am dead fucking serious#bc it’s not ‘move in with my parents again’ it’s my parents paying a whole ass apartment of my own until I find an Ohio job (in THIS economy#??) it’s them paying to fly me my CATS and my stuff out there but not any of my furniture.#it’s being down the road from my father again which I cannot and WILL not do.#I fucking moved to Cali to get away from him. and if my mom would just divorce his ass I’d be no contact in a heartbeat#I cannot be financially dependent on him AND live within driving distance of him#and I absolutely do not want to put my cats through the stress of a plane ride! they can barely keep it together being locked in my room#while I’m at work for 1 day! not to mention I’d be dependent on my parents to drive me everywhere bc there’s not public transportation there#and I’ve been packing in case I have to move apartments or god forbid to ohio and it’s a blurry fucking line bw packing to move#and giving away all my shit in preparation to kill myself#and I FINALLY found a new very temporary roommate and I’ve made a fuck load of concessions for her to move in and I have to draw the fucking#line somewhere and this of all things has her wanting to push back move until February which makes me nervous bc what if she backs out? what#if I’m fucked? girlies if I stopped posting for days on end I am literally dead. pray for my cats to go to a good home bc I can’t fucking do#it anymore
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hi
#purrs#this day has been so stupid and disappointing. my advisor is standing me up rn and i just wanted to say goodbye to him and thank him for eve#everything since i won’t get to see him on thursday now. and i tried to throw myself a graduation ceremony by visiting all my favorite#outdoor places on campus and i could only go to one of them bc someone was sitting in one of them and the other one got super overgrown and#i was scared about getting a tick bite. and i have to start packing my room and move out tomorrow and i want to cry forever about it and i h#haven’t even let myself think about it. and my mom wants to throw a zoom watch party for the graduation livestream and idk why but i don’t w#want it. and my roomie who got covid is like half moving out and her dad just came here and i haven’t been able to go get food like basicaly#all day bc she’s camped out in there w all her stuff and tomorrow that has to be me. i fucking hate this. and i have to work too which is li#like whatever but i do think i should maybe take off to try to heal but i cant until like 2 things get done. and also my sworn enemy ****#******* is still a complete idiot. AND **** is better from covid but sounds like absolute shit and one of my childhood best friends might h#have a serious case of it and need to go to the hospital or something and she goes to my school lol. so all of this is very cool. i am#having a great time and definitely enjoying my final hours on campus before covid and monkeypox permanently bar me from stepping foot#outside my family home again. lol
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x
#hi I am back with a long tag post about how I can’t keep up with life#very boring 30 year old stuff that I am struggling with very much and isn’t interesting to anyone#but I just put on my hobi playlist to feel better and instead sobbed so hard to just dance (which is a very happy song I don’t even enjoy)#that my pillow is soaked through so obviously sleep isn’t gonna happen until I get this out somewhere#so first. get this. one of my best and longest friends gets engaged and lets 1.5 months go by before she bothers to tell me#in front of four other friends who are decidedly less close to her but we all found out simultaneously.#Bad enough. you get confronted with the fleetingness of life and friendships and how everything changes even when you don’t want it to.#then. you talk it out. another friend’s dad just died. another one just bought a house and is moving away#engaged friend comes by again? And suddenly says she’s gonna get try to pregnant within the remainder of the year#and suddenly I’m hit with the fact that our friendship will never be TBE same and the life I thought we would live together is just not#gonna line up? We’re not gonna hit the clubs we’re not gonna go on adventures we’re not gonna paint the town red now that I’m a little bit#more chill re: covid. All of that? Gone. i thought I could make up for all of it but all my friends are in stages I’m not in#and with kids neber will be in? i won’t have a kid. i knew this but I didn’t /know/ this I won’t be able to follow#I’ll be aunt amber and I’ll love all their kids to the moon and back but I won’t follow. i know I don’t want kids#but I don’t think I thought about it before. what that would mean in relation to others#and I also just pictured myself with my own baby and though I don’t want it I never envisioned it and now I can’t stop crying#over the fact that I won’t have a baby. And it’s by choice yes but it doesn’t make it easy????????#I’m suddenly saying goodbye to a life I’m closing the door on and that’s. terrifying#and I’m so. so scared I’ll end up all alone and never find love or fulfilment#30 is great in terms of feeling calmer and knowing what you want bht this whole ………. this whole thing?#i HATE it I HATE it I can’t stop crying and I’m panicking I HATE IT#FUCK. CHANGE TRULY FUCK IT ALL#and FUCK everything the last two years have taken away from me and how low I was because of it and how hard my friendships got because of it#can I STOP crying now that would be GREAT
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