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huicitawrites · 9 months

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Patiently Craving

Yandere! Sukuna x Reader

warnings: major jjk spoilers (non/manga readers, or manga readers not up to date), assault, yandere behaviour

word count: 4k

It has been a long, arduous, night of study- you and Yuuji stayed up past twelve to finish a history group work. Jujutsu history homework was no easy task, for there were various curses, clans, battles, cursed techniques, and objects to recall. Still, the two of you managed to push through with the blessed help of some energy drinks and snacks.

Yuuji sighed as he carried over a blanket to your form that was passed out on the couch. The pink-haired boy felt a little bit guilty; he should be the one sleeping on the couch. It was common courtesy that he should lend you his bed if you were staying over at his dorm.

But you insisted, and ever so persistent, Yuuji could not get past you. So now here he was, gently placing down a blanket over your form to keep you warm.

The blanket was slowly descending when it happened again.

For just a second, an extremely dangerous second, Yuuji’s body shook. His face contorted uncontrollably, his eyebrows trembled, and a wicked grin plastered itself. Out of his own bodily command, Yuuji’s eyes widened and the hidden eyelids in his cheekbones popped open.

The monster threatened to come out.

But then, Itadori Yuuji’s contained him, again.

Yuuji’s hand had tossed the blanket. He bent over to pick it up. His lips were tight against each other and he flared his nostrils to get a good breath of air. He opened his mouth wide and as he exhaled, he tried to let his body loose and ignore the stiffness of his muscles. He settled the blanket on you, and this time, he was hesitant to touch your body or get any closer.

His face showed despair and signs of concern, and his heartbeat fast and climbed in his throat.

He was afraid, but he better not show, not let the monster know. Yet Yuuji knew of such to be naive, for the curse is one with his body, a parasite- and Yuuji is his vessel.

“Don’t be a fool.” A voice, deep, rumbly, and cunning spoke. Its words laced with the venom of mockery as a soft, condensing, chuckle vibrated after.

A voice, a tone, Yuuji was familiar with. The one he despised the most, Sukuna Ryomen.

He glares down with his four eyes from the comfort of his skull-throne, a tall phantom tori-gate framing his body and painting him in a royal manner- The King of Curses, of course.

Itadori clicked his tongue and blew air against his lips his eyebrows, furrowed, and with much annoyance he faced his enemy forth.

“What do you want, Sukuna?”

He is not scared to say his name, if anything, he is tired of saying it. He spits it out without any hint of respect, the King's antics have grown old and bothersome on him. Sukuna’s grin twists into a cheshire smile and he scrutinizes Yuuji with his hellish crimson irises.

“You know well what I want,” His head cocks to the side and lands on his clawed palm, the other set of fingers tapping rhythmically on the throne’s armrest.

Usually, Yuuji tries to keep his cool. The pink-haired boy is aware of the manipulative tactics and shenanigans of the curse, so he knows better than to give in and be played by his words to physically maintain him at bay.

Albeit, this is not the case, not when it is about the life of a friend. More so when it is about his unexpected and inexplicable obsession, he has with you. Yuuji does not know how or why, but you have caught the eye of Sukuna.

“Fuck you,” Yuuji spat at him, and Sukuna simply laughed, “I will never let you, ever.” Yuuji looked up at him to challenge him, meeting his piercing stare with one of his own dark eyes.

Sukuna’s cheeks puffed, only to explode into wild laughter. Yuuji simply stand still, tall, and straight- unfazed. He must not lose his cool, not let him grasp the reigns.

He must not take over, not with you here so close and vulnerable.

Surely, people have priorly done this- the feat of impressing the King. Gojo, who is the strongest and Sukuna's biggest threat, and Megumi for some reason Yuuji has not yet deciphered. In any case, it is their power and potential that beckons Sukuna, and which made them appear worthy, he guessed.

With you- it is completely different. You are not a particularly strong sorcerer; you are at the same level as him and Kugisaki. You also lack any inherited technique. heavenly pact or extraordinary mumbo-jumbo from the jujutsu world.

And yet- you caught his interest. Somehow, your presence grew on Sukuna. At first Yuuji did not notice, for it was subtle. Like a little gut-feeling whenever he was around you, like he could suddenly feel Sukuna paying attention and listening with keen ears,

After a while, it became more obvious, but not obvious enough. If Yuuji happened to walk away from you, be it because he was heading somewhere else or something, his body protested. His legs became a bit heavier, and his torso and shoulders tried slightly to twist in your direction. Even further- Sukuna's mouth began to pop out randomly but in your presence. Sometimes, the curse would tease you or mock you, or smile wickedly at you- all which made Yuuji apologize profusely.

The last, most prominent, bright red flag which slapped Yuuji into the implications of Sukuna's undivided attention occurred in a mission two months ago. The four of you had been sent to exterminate a couple of small grade curses, and unfortunately the lot of you miscalculated the situation. A special-grade curse, a cursed womb to be precise, rose within the shadows and overwhelmed the team. Yuuji was out of breath, Kugisaki had only a few nails left and Fushiguro had already spent more than half his arsenal, and you were far from them, snatched by the throat by the curse. You were passing out on its claws as you thrashed through your last breath. Yuuji recalls vividly how your writhing form made the curse inside of him snap.

Itadori was surprised to find himself detached from his body as he watched from a spectator's standpoint. His body launched at top velocity and obliterated the curse with one swipe of his hand. Merciless, unbound, and wild- yet delicate when he held you. This had never happened before, Sukuna would never help someone else, Yuuji was testimony to that when Sukuna laughed cruelly alongside Mahito at Junpei's tragic predicament.

But there you were, unharmed on his arms, passed out, and Yuuji swore he even felt Sukuna clutch you tighter. Heck, his clawed hand carefully caressed your face and nudged aside the hair strands. Oh, this was fucked up, he realized. So, he did what was entrusted to him, and regained control of his body. Kugisaki and Megumi observed with widened eyes and slacked jaws. The silence between the three of them was loud and spoke volumes. That day the three of them expressed their concerns to their teacher and decided to hide this incident from you- in their version of the tale, Yuuji saved you, which was half-the-truth in the least.

After the incident that almost cost you your life, Sukuna got worse. He was unbearable and unashamed, the curse attempted to take over his body numerous times. Anytime, anywhere. In Jujutsu High, during missions, in the streets even. It was tiresome, but Yuuji would not budge. He even tried to distance himself from you, but your friendly self was too naive to notice.

Each day, Yuuji fights to keep his body to himself and protect you, and Sukuna fights to break free and do whatever he wants with you, which terrified Yuuji.

Yuuji didn't realize how close Sukuna got to him whilst he was lost in thought and memory, but realization had been too late by the time the Cursed King delivered a blow right to his gut. The two-eyed salmon haired coughed in pain and fell to the ground, and his counterpart used this opportunity window to press the sole of his foot on his face, harshly. Yuuji's skull resisted, and the palm of his hands went to both sides of his chest, but he couldn't pick himself a centimeter up. His face was flushed and rubbed onto the mysterious watery floor, and Sukuna chuckled devilishly.

"Just what exactly do you plan to do to stop me? You cannot even pick yourself up, idiotic brat" The force pushing him into the floor got stronger, the foot twisted deeper into his cheek. Yuuji opened his mouth in any way he mustered, but before any words came out of his mouth, Sukuna fully stomped his feet and Yuuji sank into the water.

He woke up on the tatami of his dorm in cold sweat and rushing heartbeat, a dry throat to top it all. '(Y/n)!', Yuuji snapped his head to glance at the coach. He stood up desperately, his legs stumbling, and he fell on the coach's armrest. His own eyes scanned your sleeping form; indeed, you were resting peacefully.

Itadori Yuuji's body collapsed on itself slowly. He fell on his rear, and then tired on his back. He faced the plain ceiling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Once he gathered himself, Yuuji glanced out the window and distinguished the light and smooth colors of dawn.

Fuck, it was late.

Naturally, he sought out the clock hanging on his dorm wall and his hand came to his forehead, where it damped. He brought it up his hair before it slid down to cover his eyes, and a series of swear words and curses left his mouth in a hush manner.

Time, he was running out of time.

“Fushigoro?”

Itadori Yuuji asked with a cracked voice. As an answer, he only received the distorted laughs of his friend, Megumi Fushigoro - no, of the curse possessing his friend, Ryomen Sukuna.

‘Fuck, fuck! How could this be?!’

Both you and Yuuji stood frozen in place, shocked. The tables had turned drastically, never had you entertained the thought of Sukuna switching into another vessel, least of all Megumi.

You took a quick glance at Yuuji. He looked heartbroken. Sukuna looked delighted, joyous, ecstatic. He ran his hands on his new hair, feeling the black locks of Fushigoro Megumi.

“Stupid brat, you didn’t really think through our Binding Vow,” he blurted in between laughs, his voice alien to his body as the red eyes filled with mockery and disdain.

“Die.”

You saw Megumi, no, Sukuna, incoming, and you picked up your stance, you looked sideways to Yuuji, and -

“Yuuji!!! Dodge!!!” You cried out for your friend, your arm desperately reaching for him, your body ready to sabotage its survival instincts to push him out of the way.

But you were too slow, and he did not move a muscle. He just stood there and took the powerful blow.

Eyes widened; you saw him spit out blood. With a single blow to the gut, Sukuna blasted Yuuji away, and his body crashed through several buildings, far from your sight.

It is about damn, fucking time. That Itadori brat has had his use, and at this point, he was becoming more of a prison than a vessel. Although dumb, weak, and naive, that brat did only one thing right.

He could restrain him.

Every.single.fucking.time.

Sukuna had tried more than a couple of times to catch you off guard. When you turned around, when you were too focused to notice your surroundings, when you stayed over to sleep at the brat's, when you were too weak and exhausted to fight, or simply anytime Ryomen Sukuna desired.

And each single fucking time, the damn brat stopped him.

But now, now that was a thing of the past. A nuisance he no longer had to deal with. Not as he had the body of Megumi Fushigoro under his control, and with a single punch to the gut, that weakling was done with.

Sukuna laughed, his eyes wide and mad, his pupils dilated, and his toothy grin wicked.

About. Damn. Fucking. Time.

Horror painted a canvas on your face, and despair formed a pit in your chest, but despite it all, you managed to cast a spell. Even with a tight lump inside your throat, you brought your hands together in a seal - your last two fingers crossed each other and the first three touched each other.

“Caladrius!” You conjured a white owl Shinigami big enough to carry you. You grasped its feathers to propel yourself upwards and climb it, but a tough arm grabbed you by the ankle.

“Oh, no, you won’t.”

He pulled you down, and you failed to resist his strength, but you were quick to command the owl to set off on its own. It was more important that it reached Yuuji, for his sake, yours, and Megumi’s - if he was still there, he had to be there, deep down.

With the usurped body of your friend, his black hair thrown back out of his usual hairstyle and sinister signature tattoos invading his skin, the ‘borrowed’ arms went around your waist, and his sharp claws slightly tore the layers of your clothes, prodding at the skin below.

“Do you like my new host, [Y/n]? I sure do; it feels refreshing,” The usurper said nonchalantly in your ear as you struggled against his frame. He chuckled at your struggle, finding it cutely futile if anything.

Sukuna lowered his head into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent. He was slow, painfully so, taking his sweet time in tormenting you.

"So sweet," he whispered in your ear, but blood did not rush to your face nor taint the tips of your ears. No. That intimidating aura, that immeasurable amount of cursed energy so close to you.

You froze.

You could die here and now.

Only when you felt a slim sensation up your neck, dangerously close to your jugular, did you wince. Snapping out of your shocked state, you began to thrash in his hold.

Sukuna merely chuckled; you could feel his chest and abdomen rising and falling against your back. He laughed and laughed, baring his teeth and fangs, his four eyes brimming with joy. He dragged his maniacal display until it ended with a satisfactory sigh. His expression fell, his grin fell flat, and his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t have any idea how much I wanted out from that Itadori brat." the King of Curses sighed.

His arms began to snake around your waist, and his clawed hands grasped your skin. His sharp nails dragged tightly against your skin, leaving a thin reddish trail behind, but you were too focused on his words. “All this time I have been looking at you, woman, my woman. My future queen.” Such a passionate confession would leave anyone stuttering with a mad blush, but this was Ryomen Sukuna, the enemy of all enemies, the worst of curses, a threat to any living being - he couldn’t be serious, this just could not be real.

This was madness.

“You made friends with two weak and idiotic boys, did you know? But I must admit, at least that damn Itadori brat did quite the job in restraining me.” His nails began to feel tighter on your skin and were threatening to tear into you at any moment.

“All this time, I’ve been craving you.” He parted his lips and brought out his tongue, lapping it all the way up your neck. Sukuna relished it - he could taste your fear, and he loved it.

It was addicting.

He continued, “Now, now [Y/N]. If I had to tell you something with all my years of experience, is that I do not like being bothered” The King of Curses could sense people coming, and while he normally enjoyed torturing and murdering his enemies, just for this time he would rather be left alone, with you.

Utilizing the body of the Fushigoro boy, he moved his grasp from your waist and brought them together in a seal, in front of your abdomen - of course, silly, he would not let you go.

"Nue," his deep voice vibrated against your ear, and a wave of cursed energy flooded the area. You shot up your head, and your jaw dropped. Megumi's bird Shinigami had turned into a colossal predator, at least four times its usual size, and it even developed a tail. With the flap of its wings, thunder and lightning surged, attacking the neighboring area around you and Sukuna.

The sight of the beast made you snap out of your haste. You had to do something. Although you were powerless against this demon, Megumi was still there. He was being held prisoner in his own body, but he could break free. If you could just reach out to him, "Megumi! I know you are there! You can snap out of it, just like Yuuji! C'mon Megumi!"

Naively, your eyes sought for eye-contact. Only to see the four red irises of Sukuna, his tattoos shifting along with the grin on his face.

"Megumi? Really? He may be able to hear you, [Y/N], but I assure you, he's not coming back," Sukuna purred, his grip on you tightening. "Don’t make me jealous now, calling out another man’s name... I’d rather you call out mine."

Desperation and fear surged through your veins, but you refused to give in to Sukuna's taunts. Summoning every ounce of courage, you had left, you clenched your fists and glared defiantly at him.

"You're wrong! Megumi is strong, and he won't let you control him forever. I believe in him, and we will find a way to break your hold on him!" You retorted, determination shining in your [e/c] eyes.

Sukuna's laughter filled the air, echoing around you like sinister bells of doom. "Oh, how amusing! Your faith in him is laughable. But I'll humor you, my dear [Y/N]. Let's see how long you can hold on to that hope before I make you mine entirely."

As Sukuna's laughter subsided, you felt a surge of raw energy emanating from him. The air crackled with malevolence as Sukuna prepared to unleash his Nue’s full power. But before he could strike, an unexpected presence intervened.

A figure emerged from the shadows, radiating a powerful aura that seemed to challenge even Sukuna's might. Itadori Yuuji, battered, bruised and with several cuts from the earlier blow, stood tall with a determined glint in his eyes.

"Leave [Y/N] alone, Sukuna! This is between you and me," Yuuji declared, his voice steady despite the pain.

Sukuna's lips curled into a sinister grin. "You still think you can stand up to me, boy? I'll enjoy tearing you apart, scum."

Yuuji's resolve only strengthened. He clenched his fists and channeled every ounce of cursed energy he possessed. "I won't let you hurt [Y/N], and I won't let you get away with what you've done."

Using another set of Megumi’s shikigamis, Sukuna conjured the monster serpent (now, a full, intimidating horned cobra) and it curled tight around you- rendering you immobile as it drained you of your cursed energy.

The battlefield crackled with tension as Sukuna and Yuuji faced each other, locked in an inevitable clash. Meanwhile, you struggled against the shikigami’s tailed hold, trying to summon every ounce of cursed energy within you to break free. The ground trembled beneath your feet as the battle commenced.

It soon became clear that Yuuji was no match for Sukuna's overwhelming power. Despite his valiant efforts, Sukuna's strength and cunning proved to be too much to handle. With a single devastating attack, Yuuji was defeated, lying unconscious on the ground.

“Yuuji!!!” You screamed and tears welled up in your eyes.

Sukuna stood triumphantly over Yuuji's fallen form, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Pathetic brat," he sneered, "You were never worthy of her attention. But now, she's all mine."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the monstrous curse before you. Sukuna's eyes bore into yours with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and desire. He took a step closer, and you could feel his cursed energy suffocating you.

You clenched your fists, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him. "I'll never be yours, Sukuna," you retorted, your voice wavering and cracking but determined.

Sukuna's grin widened, reveling in your resistance. "Oh, how delightful. The more you resist, the more enticing you become," he said, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey. With a chask of his fingers, the shikigami which held you vanished, and you fell on Sukuna’s arms. One of his clawed and tattooed hands reached out to grasp you by the chin, forcing you into eye-contact and squeezing your cheeks- bringing your lips forward.

Your heart raced with fear, and Sukuna's grin only grew wider. His face inched closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "My love," he whispered, his voice laced with a possessive edge. “I will not let you escape me. You are mine, [Y/N], and I will gladly be yours " he murmured, pulling you closer to him. Anticipating his actions, you focused your remaining strength in struggling against him. Regardless, Sukuna leaned in and succeeded in sealing his lips against yours.

Ryomen Sukuna kissed you with a passion you would never expect, or experience- a profound hunger and impatience that had been finally sated. A tongue, thick, slimy, and intrusive that relentlessly claimed a pair of lips it had been craving for so long, a desire long fulfilled.

His onslaught was merciless; he wanted more, but when he looked at your flushed face and shut eyes, and attention to your weakening fists against his chest, he chuckled against your lips and broke the kiss. You gasped for air and breathed frantically, as Sukuna admired the trail of saliva that bridged his lips to yours.

"You are mine, [Y/N], and there's no escape. I have been waiting for so long; I have been so patient. I think it’s time I deserved my reward."

His lips peppered and trailed up your neck, climbing across your jaw, past your lips and near your ear. He whispered, hungrily and husky “I’m just so hungry for you.”

A/n: I’ve literally been trying to write this a LONG time ago, and finally broke through! I hope you like a normal dickhead sukuna that is a hard simp for darling. One more sukuna fic that I’ve been saving to go!

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #yandere sukuna #yandere ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna x reader

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bl3upi3 · 8 months

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A Night to Remember | Monkey D. Luffy

Part 2

Summary: In the midst of a disaster at sea, your crew encounters the Straw Hat Pirates led by Monkey D. Luffy. After initial skepticism, you accept their help, and amidst the chaos, a deep connection forms between you and Luffy. The night brings passion, revealing mutual feelings.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, p in v unprotected (I'm bad with warnings)

A/N: This is straight out of my imagination. I just watched the live action and am thinking of starting the anime so yes, this work is a messy mix of anything and everything. English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried not to change Luffy's personality as much as I could. (My requests are open if wanted)

As you and your crew sailed through the unpredictable waters of the Grand Line, the tranquility of the day shattered in an instant. A violent collision rocked the sturdy vessel as it struck an unyielding underwater rock, tearing through the boat's hull with a heart-wrenching screech of rending wood. The impact sent shockwaves of fear rippling through your crew, their faces etched with stark dread as they grasped the gravity of the situation.

Chaos ensued as you scrambled to assess the extent of the damage, your hands slick with seawater as you desperately tried to gauge the severity of the breach. Panic gnawed at your senses, every second feeling like an eternity, and uncertainty hung heavy in the salt-tinged air.

As if orchestrated by the very elements themselves, a thick and disorienting fog descended upon you with an eerie swiftness, obscuring your vision and muffling any sounds beyond the boat. It was as though the elements had conspired to further complicate your dire predicament, isolating your vessel in an unsettling cloak of obscurity.

Your heart pounded within your chest as the realization settled in—the lives of your crew hinged upon your quick thinking and resourcefulness. Yet, amidst the silence of the disaster, a creaking sound pierced the air. You yielded your place to a member of your crew to investigate the source of the noise.

As you strained your eyes to peer through the dense fog, a white boat with a sheep-shaped figurehead slowly materialized before you. Your gaze instinctively rose to the flag fluttering from its mast—a skull-headed emblem adorned with a distinctive straw hat—a flag of pirates.

"Hey there! It looks like you could use some help," a figure standing on the edge of the approaching vessel called out.

"Who are you?" you inquired, squinting in an attempt to discern the identity of the mysterious individual.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates! The fog swallowed us up, and we stumbled upon your beleaguered vessel, which doesn't seem to be in the best shape," he cheerfully replied.

You and your crew exchanged glances, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

With a cautious tone, you responded, "I appreciate your offer, Monkey D. Luffy, but we can't be too careful out here. We've just suffered a terrible collision, and our ship is badly damaged. How can we trust that your intentions are genuine?"

Luffy grinned widely, his boundless energy seemingly undeterred by your skepticism. "I get it; you're being cautious. That's a good trait to have out here. But you've got my word. We're not here to harm you. We're pirates, yeah, but we're not the bad guys!"

As he spoke, Luffy's crew members began to emerge from the fog, appearing on the deck of their ship one by one. Each of them had a distinct look and demeanor, but there was something about them that suggested they were not the typical ruthless pirates one might encounter.

One of Luffy's crewmates, a man with green hair added, "We're just passing through these waters, and we've had our fair share of adventures. We know what it's like to be in a tight spot. We're offering our help because it's the right thing to do."

You considered their words and looked at your own crew. They were still on edge, but the desperation of your situation was evident. Your ship was taking on water faster than you could bail it out, and the fog showed no signs of dissipating. It was a perilous situation, and you needed all the help you could get.

After a moment of deliberation, you turned back to Luffy and said, "Alright, we'll accept your offer of help. But know this, if there's any treachery or harm intended for my crew, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves."

Luffy's face lit up with excitement "Deal! You won't regret it! We'll get your ship fixed up in no time!"

A wooden plank was placed between the two boats, allowing you and your crew to board the white vessel. Luffy spoke with enthusiasm, "Welcome to the Going Merry," offering his hand for you to shake.

You looked around at his small crew, taking note of each member. However, you didn't shake Luffy's hand just yet. Instead, your gaze settled on his comrades. Luffy followed your gaze and introduced them, "This is Roronoa Zoro," pointing to the green-haired guy who had spoken earlier, "This is Nami, Usopp, and Sanji," revealing the rest of his crew whom you hadn't seen yet.

"I hope you're hungry," the blond-haired Sanji said with a smile, "I've prepared a meal fit for thousands."

As your crew members cautiously stepped onto the Going Merry, they exchanged wary glances, still unsure about this unexpected alliance. But the warm smiles and genuine hospitality displayed by Luffy's crew began to put them at ease, albeit slowly.

You finally shook Luffy's hand, sealing the agreement. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Monkey D. Luffy. We appreciate your help, and we'll do our part to assist as well."

“You can call me Luffy” he smiled

"Thank you, Luffy," you replied with a nod. "I'm y/n, the captain of this crew. We're in your debt."

With introductions made and a mutual understanding established, the two crews set to work. Your crew members, alongside Luffy's crew, began assessing the extent of the damage to your ship, while Luffy himself seemed to be filled with boundless energy as he led the charge, making plans and offering assistance wherever needed.

As the day wore on and repairs were underway, you couldn't help but notice the camaraderie among the Straw Hat Pirates. They worked seamlessly together, each member contributing their unique skills to the task at hand. It was evident that they were a tight-knit crew, bound not just by their captain's leadership but by a genuine sense of friendship.

Nami, the crew's navigator, approached you as you oversaw the repairs. "You're lucky we happened upon you," she said with a sly grin. "The Grand Line can be unforgiving to those who sail it unprepared. But don't worry, with our help, you'll be back on your way in no time."

Usopp, the sharpshooter of the crew, chimed in, "And if you ever run into any trouble out here again, just give us a shout. We've got your back."

Sanji, the crew's cook, began preparing a feast for both crews to enjoy together. The aroma of his cooking filled the air, and your crew members couldn't help but be drawn to the delicious scent. It was a welcome respite from the earlier chaos and fear.

As evening fell, and the repairs to your ship neared completion, you gathered with Luffy and his crew around a makeshift table on the deck of the Going Merry. Plates of food were passed around, and laughter filled the air as stories were shared.

It felt so peaceful and normal—it wasn't often that you found yourself enjoying such casual conversation with strangers.

"So, where are you headed next?" Nami asked as she took a sip from her cup of sake.

You shrugged, briefly glancing at your crewmates before responding, "I haven't made up my mind just yet."

Luffy leaned back in his seat, his signature straw hat tilted low over his eyes. "You know, y/n, the Grand Line is full of adventures waiting to happen. We're always looking for new crewmates and allies. You and your crew seem like good people. Ever thought about joining us on the ultimate adventure?"

Your crew members exchanged surprised glances at Luffy's proposition. It was a tempting offer, to say the least. The idea of joining the Straw Hat Pirates and exploring the Grand Line with them was exhilarating, but you knew you couldn't make such a decision on a whim.

You chuckled, trying to defuse the sudden tension in the air. "Well, Luffy, that's a tempting offer, but we've got our own dreams and goals. Maybe our paths will cross again in the future."

Amid the ongoing dinner festivities, you couldn't help but become engrossed in the lively conversation with Nami. It was a refreshing change to find yourself in the company of another woman after what felt like an eternity. You shared an unspoken connection, a bond that went beyond words, stemming from the shared experience of being the sole females in your respective crews. It was as if you both understood the unique challenges and dynamics that came with that role.

Your discussions with Nami ranged from the practicalities of navigation and mapmaking to the more personal aspects of life at sea. You exchanged stories of your adventures, your dreams, and the occasional frustrations that came with your responsibilities. Nami's wisdom and wit resonated with you, and it was clear that you were kindred spirits in many ways.

However, despite your best efforts to focus solely on your conversation with Nami, you felt a steady gaze on the side of your face—Luffy's eyes never left you. He remained leaned back in his chair, contentedly eating and drinking, seemingly absorbed in your every word.

The dinner eventually came to an end, and the crew members of both vessels retreated to their respective quarters for some much-needed rest. You returned to your boat, grateful for the repairs and hospitality of the Straw Hat Pirates.

As you lay in your cabin, trying to find sleep amidst the creaking of the ship and the gentle rocking of the waves, you couldn't help but think about Luffy's offer. The allure of joining his crew and embarking on the ultimate adventure was tantalizing, but your responsibilities as a captain weighed heavily on your mind.

Unable to sleep, you decided to take a walk on the deck of your ship to clear your thoughts. The night was calm, the stars glittering above, and the moon casting a silvery glow over the water.

After your contemplative walk on the deck, you noticed a faint light coming from one of the rooms on Luffy's ship, the Going Merry.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to investigate. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and you could see a warm glow emanating from within.

As you entered the room, you were met with an unexpected sight. Luffy was sitting there,his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp atop his desk. His head was resting against the table as he continued to write something down on his notepad.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room

Luffy looked up, his wide grin returning as he noticed your presence. "Hey there, y/n," he greeted, his tone friendly and inviting. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

You nodded, stepping further into the room. "Yeah, I wanted to thank you for everything you did today”

Luffy gestured for you to take a seat opposite him, and you obliged, settling into a chair. The room was cozy, filled with maps, navigational tools, and scattered notes that attested to the adventures this crew had undertaken.

"No need to thank me," Luffy said with a shrug. "Helping out is what we do. Besides, it's been fun having your crew around." He then dropped his voice into a whisper having a more serious tone “I appreciated having you around, y/n."

As you stared into his eyes, you noticed something in his expression that caught you off guard. His eyes… they were different. In a way, they were filled with longing and desire.

"Luffy…" you muttered softly, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes. "What's going on? Why are you looking at me that way?"

Luffy sighed deeply getting up of his chair, he walked over to the small window in the room, gazing out at the starry night. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if contemplating how to put his feelings into words. Then, he turned back to face you, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to a more serious expression.

"Y/n," he began, "I don't know how to say this the right way, but I can't help how I feel. Ever since we met today, there's been something about you that's drawn me in. I've traveled to countless islands, faced dangerous foes, and encountered all sorts of people, but meeting you felt different. It's like... like I've found something I didn't even know I was searching for."

His confession left you breathless, your heart racing in your chest. This revelation took you by surprise, especially considering it came so soon after your initial meeting.

You, too, stood up and approached him, "Luffy," you began, your voice soft but filled with warmth, "I can't deny that there's something special about you. But we both know we will never see each other again”

Luffy nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I know that, y/n. But I've always followed my heart, and my heart tells me that you're special. I don't want to let this opportunity slip away without trying."

As he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto yours, his hand reaching forward to cradle your cheek in his palm. Your breathing grew shallow, your pulse quickening, as he brought his lips closer to yours.

Before you knew it, his lips were gently pressing against yours, sending tingles throughout your entire body. A feeling of euphoria overcame you, and your eyes widened as you realized that what you'd felt was real. The kiss lasted longer than you expected, and when you finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so hard inside your chest.

Luffy smiled brightly, "This was a first time for me, y'know?"

A blush spread across your cheeks as you laughed lightly in response. "Well, then don't stop" you whispered.

He instently crashed his lips on yours again, this time angrier and hungrier. His hands wandered from your waist to your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him until you felt as if you were melting in his embrace. His kiss deepened, his tongue dancing with yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

There's no need to hold back now, you told yourself. You felt his warm hands caressing your skin, making heat pool between your thighs.

Your hand instinctively reached to remove his hat, but he stopped you, his hand gently grasping your wrist. He paused to look into your eyes for a few heartbeats before releasing you and carefully placing his hat atop your head.

As Luffy's hat settled atop your head, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. It was a symbol of trust, a connection that transcended words, and a promise of something more. You gazed into Luffy's eyes again, still flushed red with passion and arousal.

"Can I be honest with you?" you asked, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Luffy hesitated for a second before giving a quick nod in return. "Of course", he replied.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again " You're a good kisser" you whispered against his lips.

His lips curled into a slight smirk as he responded "Thanks".You closed your eyes as his lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving soft kisses along the way. His lips traced down your neck, slowly kissing your collarbone. Your breathing increased, your mind becoming clouded with lust and desire. As your fingers ran through his hair, you felt him smile against your skin. Luffy's warm breath brushed against your ear as he spoke. "Do you want to have sex?" he asked.

His question surprised you, your mind taking a couple seconds to process the request. After all, this wasn't something you usually discussed with anyone. "Umm, I'm sorry. What?" you stuttered.

Luffy chuckled "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with saying no if you don't want to."

You shook your head in disbelief. “It’s just…” you began, a frown forming on your face as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure? Do you really want to?” you asked quietly.

Luffy's smile grew wider as he leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours once again. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Your eyes darted to his lips, which were inches away from your own, hesitating for a moment before you moved forward. With your lips barely touching his, you whispered "Then yes..."

Luffy grinned as he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground as your legs encircled around his waist. His mouth moved hungrily against yours as he got to his knees, the wood creaking beneath his weight causing you to moan when you felt his hardness press against you through his pants.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he began to move his hips slowly, eliciting a gasp from you as you pressed your pelvis against his crotch, feeling his erection harden in response. You moaned louder as you felt him grind his hips forward.

"You'll have to be quiet, everyone's asleep downstairs" Luffy whispered into your ear, moving one of his hands to cup your breast.

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, your body heating up as his hand moved to the hem of your shirt, removing it and throwing it to the side. You hurried to undo the buttons on his vest, letting it fall to the floor with yours.

You slide off of him, your heart skipped a beat when he reached down and started unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them off and tossing them aside. Your gaze drifted lower, noticing his bulge pushing against his black boxers. When you heard him groan, you glanced up at him, seeing his eyes darken in anticipation.

You took off your shorts and underwear, allowing them to fall to the ground next to his clothes. As you crawled towards him and lowered yourself onto his lap once again, he held you tightly, bringing you so close to him that you could feel his beating heart pulsating against your breasts.

"Oh God!" Luffy gasped, his teeth grinding together as he gripped you tighter, grinding you against him. You reached between your bodies, slipping your fingers into his boxer briefs, rubbing them lightly against his length. He let out a low grunt, his hips bucking upwards as you continued teasing his shaft with your touch.

You set him free from the cloth that separates you, and positioning his member against your entrance, you pushed yourself slowly down onto him, feeling him tense as he entered you completely.

He grunted loudly, his hands clutching tightly onto your thighs as he thrust himself into you, the sensation of being filled filling you with joy.

Luffy leaned forward, capturing your lips once again in another passionate kiss, his tongue tangling into your mouth. His hand traveled downwards, stopping above your clit as he slowly stroked it. As he did so, you moaned softly into his mouth, your whole body shaking.

"Fuck! Y/n," he gritted out.

"I thought you told me we had to be quiet" you teased, your voice breathy.

Luffy smirked as he rolled his eyes, shifting you slightly on top of him to allow you to continue to ride him. Your hips thrust upward and downward, faster and faster until you reached an orgasm. Luffy placed his hand on your mouth as you rode your high, his face scrunched up in pure pleasure.

The moment passed, and you sat yourself up, looking down at him, "Sorry" you giggled. "I guess I kind of lost track of myself."

He snorted, "You mean lost track of my dick" he joked.

You laughed softly while playfully hitting his arm, "Yeah well, maybe I got carried away... or perhaps a little bit too excited."

Luffy shrugged, "Maybe a bit, but we're not going to talk about those kinds of things right now. We're both naked and horny, remember?"

"Mhmmm" you hummed as you grabbed him and laid on your back, pulling him atop of you . He gently took the hat off you and set it down somewhere to the left of where your discarded clothes lay. He then proceeded to take control once again, pushing his cock deeper into you. Your breathing grew rapid, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling.

Luffy began thrusting rapidly within you, his eyes staring deeply into yours. In response, you grasped onto his back as your nails lightly dug into his skin. Sweat dripped from your brow, and your legs quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever further into you until there wasn't an inch of room between you two.

Luffy looked down at you as his thrusts slowed, watching as your chest rose and fell rapidly as you panted lightly.

He gave you one last loving peck on the lips before returning his attention to his own actions. He pulled out slightly only to slam back in just as hard. Your back arched, causing you to moan loudly as he drove deeper into you. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh as you cried out with ecstasy.

Luffy's movements became frenzied as his climax overtook him, he withdraws himself from you before his semen spilled onto your stomach. A gasped escaped your lips as you felt his seed drip onto you.

The two of you fell silent, your eyes locked on each other, your chests rising and falling as you caught your breaths.

"Fuck, I thought it was your first time" you said between heavy breathes as you took a nearby tissue to clean you off

Luffy smiled, laying down beside you "It is" he said out of breath looking at you with lustful eyes.

You gave him a soft smile, your fingers running through his messy locks as he closed his eyes and sighed in content.

The night, filled with passion and tenderness, eventually yielded to the creeping light of dawn. Gently, you stirred from the warmth of Luffy's embrace, feeling a pang of bittersweet nostalgia as you reluctantly disentangled yourself.

With a sigh, you rose from the ground, limbs still tingling from the shared intimacy of the night before. The room held the faint fragrance of your encounter, a lingering reminder of the passion that had unfolded.

As you dressed and made yourself presentable, you couldn't help but steal glances at Luffy, who lay in peaceful slumber, his straw hat resting next to him.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the small window, casting a gentle glow on the room.A sign that the time had come to part ways with the Straw Hat Pirates. Though the night had felt like a dream, reality beckoned, and your own ship awaited.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

As you made your way towards the door, you turned back one last time, taking in the sight of the man who had turned your world upside down in just one night. With a whispered goodbye, you stepped out of the room, leaving behind the memories of an unforgettable encounter.

A/N: Hope you liked it, idk if I should make it a short fic or not. Anyways, don’t hesitate to give other ideas, my requests are open :)

#fanfic #straw hat luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #inaki luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #inaki godoy #smut #luffy smut #one piece #one piece live action

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alienpossession · 4 months

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"Now this is what I'm talking about," murmured the alien under its breath using its human puppet's voice

As the field commander of its race's mission on Earth, it's very important for Flicker (its code name) to look representative of its authority. At first, the body Flicker stumbled barely lived up to its high standard as a 4-time new planet expedition lead. But, noting the fact that it has limited time to be exposed directly to Earth's atmospheric condition, Flicker made the decision to lunged directly at the curious human who watched it fell from the night sky and looking quite amused when he first seen Flicker in its "portable" form

The 8 inches insectoid quickly latched itself to the human's temple and from there, it expanded its form and covered the entirety of the human's face in just under a minute. Then, it dissipated quickly as it ensured that the human wrapped by it already paralyzed as more of its extended form entered into the human through the ear, nose and mouth. Soon, as it resides on the brain, it covered the brain in its black, sludge like form before directly spread across the human body. Flicker's expansive capability caused the human's skull to crack as the nerd's lanky form quickly ballooned with muscles, or what seemed from the naked eyes as muscle

Working on the base mass, Flicker managed to expand the nerd's form around 30-40%, shooting up the nerd's weight from 125 lbs to close to 175 lbs and increased its height from 5'6" right at 6' tall. Flicker tapped into its human's vessel memory to proportionately distributed the muscle mass based on the nerd's memory of the stronger human it encountered before. The word "frat", "gym", and "jock" repeatedly flashed alongside the bigger guys this vessel witnessed, so Flicker modeled the nerd's body accordingly. His chest puffed up from rib-cagey and flat-looking into sizable pillowy pecs coupled with visible six-pack abs, while its back popped like the set of swimmers the nerd happily supported just a couple weeks ago or the gymgoers he envied as his body simply gained additional masses out of the blue.

But Flicker was not done, he's big, but simply not big enough just yet. In order to grow even bigger, it required another source of masses, so using the nerd's memory and calculating its chances for a more discreet arrival, it controlled the nerd to walk to the campus gym that's going to close in half an hour

Jeff Wrabel realized that everyone already left the gym so he did some final round of cleanup before heading back to his dorm. As a sophomore student athlete on partial scholarship, working in the gym is his way to be in better favor with the administration and also for him to get additional working out time. It's not like the small-town wrestler would directly be on the mat from the get go during his freshman year and with the incredibly packed roster, he probably would be still on the reserve until his junior year. Minding his own business and wearing the headphone given by his rich girlfriend, his back faced the entrance and he didn't realize that the nerd entered the gym. The noise cancelling feature caused him to be pretty much deaf to the external noises and before he even realized, he's thudded to the floor after the grown nerd lunged at him from the back. The headphone rattled to the ground and as he screamed in pain while trying to check his assailant, he's suddenly paralyzed as the nerd grabbed his head while their legs started to merge.

Jeff left in a catatonic state while the nerd, due to Flicker expansive yet malleable form, started to sank further into Jeff's body. As soon as the two bodies merged, Jeff's body started to expand as Flicker gained additional masses to work on. The wrestler legs solidified into just the right mixture of the tightness achieved from constant running while additionally packed with sizable muscle from twice-a-week leg day. His butt lifted and gained additional curvature as the nerd's lean and mean expanded form merged with Jeff's bubbly ass. The changes spread upwards as their core strengthened followed by upper limbs that simply turned into irresistible sinewy landscape that showcased strength and dedication to improve one's body. Jeff's eyes already rolled to the back of his head while drool escaped his mouth as more and more of Flicker and the nerd merged with his form. Around 10 minutes later, the unholy blend of men and extraterrestrial life form emerged victorious in the middle of the quiet gym flooe. It stood tall at 6'5" and weighed around 220-225 lbs as steam released from his body.

The merged brain now solely filled with the singular consciousness of Flicker while the two human simply existed as memory to be tapped by the alien. Breathing oxygen from the now expansive set of lungs felt very refreshing and normal for Flicker as it grabbed the dropped headphone that belonged to Jeff. He put it on and a rap song started to play right away as he marveled at the sight in the mirror of his shirtless form, the tattered shirts on the ground right next to him due to his expanding form should be picked too and then thrown away while he tried to check whether glasses is still necessary for his vision or not

After skimming through the two human memories, Flicker headed to the locker room to grab the gym bag that once belonged to Jeff. He admired his form one more time as he walked pass a mirror

"Now this is what I'm talking about,"

And he snapped some pictures to document himself. He then focused at the task at hand, he cannot go back to Jeff's dorm, but with around 500 of its field operatives descended like a falling star in the next couple of minutes, all he needed to do is to simply walk out from the gym and let his operatives spot the glow his form radiated to guide his operatives to crash landed on the area it marked. Not like the glow he emitted is visible to the human eyes, only to its kind, and based on Jeff's memory, the male Greek Row seemed like the perfect spot for its operatives to land themselves and started their hunt for their vessel

***

After 2 times rewriting this due to Tumblr weird glitch, I finally write something outside of "Body a Day" prompt for a while. Thanks to the pictures for hitting my head like a wrecking ball of inspiration

#alien possession #merge tf #male muscle growth #male takeover #male transformation #flicker series

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ranticore · 2 months

Text

I gave up on editing and did this instead check it out. I had a rough time with the zeta because they kept getting too anthro dog-ish and I wanted them to read as primates. The one pictured there is a crew member on a whaling vessel (chef and lookout).

Image description and transcript of text below the cut:

[Figure 1 description: Front and side views of a zeta's face with the skull and external anatomy overlaid and separate. The skull is similar to a baboon's with massive broad fangs and a huge saggital crest on top for muscle attachment. Figure 2 description: a bar of colours ranging from dark brown, to reddish, to pale cream, to violet, to blue, to dark blue. Beneath it are several blue markings resembling a stylised 'A' or an arrow. Figure 3 description: a pair of zeta standing together. They are blue, brown, and cream in colour and wearing fancy black collars with dark tassels, and knuckle-guards to protect their feet. They have stocky muscular bodies and ape-like heads. One is propped up on their elbows over the back of the other, looking in a different direction.]

Text reads:

Terrestrial Zeta of Siren: Overview

Zeta are large quadrupedal mammals primarily found in the Eastern continent, the only area of significant continuous land. They are specialists at hunting and killing the local wildlife, most of which have strong chitinous shells and can be thought of as similar to millipedes or isopods. Zeta maxillary canines (1c) are the largest on Siren, laterally flattened and lacking sharp points, instead used to crush and split open the shells of their main prey, and they have huge saggital crests to support their jaw muscles. Zeta were formerly aquatic and still retain tail flukes and dense bones from that evolutionary era (3). They have a plantigrade, knuckle-walking locomotion and lack tongues. Zeta are marsupial and unisex.

Fig. 2 shows the coat colour variation. It is divided into red phase and blue phase shades. While most individuals have both phases, some are solely red or solely blue. Zeta are the only people on Siren who have naturally occurring blue pigments in their skin and hair, and blue eyes. The settlers who genetically engineered zeta also programmed in the logo of their megacorporation, which was a stylised blue letter 'A', which would appear like a tattoo from birth on the skin of zeta, formed of their own pigments. Over subsequent milennia, the logo has become indistinct and abstract, and the blue pigment is no longer limited to this particular marking, but found all over.

Kattakati

During the development of zeta, the genetic engineers wanted to produce a creature which would never have solidarity with a member of its own kind. They tampered with the brains of their creations, thinking that they had produced a creature with no sense of community, empathy, solidarity, or sympathy. In the intervening years zeta have developed a novel way to regain those traits, for their own survival. Early aquatic and terrestrial zeta developed a form of eusociality, viewing members of their pack as themselves, as limbs of one being, and over time this developed into the Dry Bowl practice of Kattakati pairing. This consists of a pair of zeta who have entered a binding agreement to consider one another a single being (3). Legally, socially, and culturally, a kattakati is one person. It has a single name and will not allow others to distinguish between its component bodies in any meaningful way, as they are supposed to be taken as a complete whole, together. It is frowned upon to consider the pair anything other than one guy. The two halves of a kattakati do not necessarily agree on all things, but this is not a contradiction; a person often thinks contradicting thoughts, and feels contradicting things. The nature of the bond is not platonic, romantic, or sexual, and a kattakati might make friends and date other people (you can't date just one half - you need to date the whole guy).

#told ya it was unethical #setting: siren #i know empathy is a charged word here but it's hard to discuss the effects of the GMO without falling back on it #they basically turned off the part of the brain that says We Live In A Society and a bunch of other stuff besides #is it scientific? no. i just wanted to explore what is necessary to reverse-engineer 'society' back into a population #speculative biology

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tohot4u · 7 months

Text

Bad end

Beginning/End prompt

Wukong carries the limp form of macaque. Gently cradling the porcelain vessel in his arms,leaning his head inwards.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this

He dares not look into the empty void of where Macaque's eye should be. Endless black peering straight through his skull. The violent,jagged fracture sprawled across.

He meant to stop-he didn’t know-!

With a trembling hand he brushes away stray hairs framing his face. Careful as he was,his claws still scraped across the surface. A sickening,chalk sound screeching through the mournful silence.

Macaque's features do not move,perfectly still,silent. Reminiscent of a peaceful sleep,of beautiful dreams,laughter and sweet kisses.

Six,painted ears fanning out,dripping down like Lilies of the valley.

This isn’t right

Heart pounding,throat tightening,he yearns for the touch of comfort. Warm hands pressed softly against his cheek,brushing his tears away. Teasing whispers grazing the tips of his ears. Playful fingers prodding the back of his neck,peppering gentle kisses-!

It’s a wonderful memory,a simple,cherished thought.

And even after hundreds of years of isolation,basking in the pleasures of Flower fruit mountain-he still dared to remember.

With hesitance,he shuts his eyes. Raising macaque’s hand to his face,pressing it against his cheek. It’s eerily frosty and rough. As he bends the fingers in his grasp,the joints creak and groan. Slowly but surely wearing away.

He hadn’t known

With no soul,with no mind,the vessel would rot.

Fade away

He leans his head down,placing a subtle brush of his lips on macaque’s forehead.

“I don’t want you to go-“he chokes,something warm and tingly bubbling up from his eyes.

“Please-please.” He pleads,praying,hoping not to let his dream end.

“I-I-I’m sorry” it’s rushed,desperate.

Please

Words lodge in his throat as he begs-and begs.

But words can’t raise the dead.

#monkie destiny challenge 2023 #monkie kid #macaque #sun wukong #lmk sun wukong #liu er mihou #lmk #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach

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brokenpieces-72 · 3 months

Text

Monster!141 x jackalope/wendigo reader

The following is based on the hybrid au of @bluegiragi and includes the reader character of @diejager

TW: Mentions of trauma, some violence and mentions of death

No Going Dark

Continuation of Sizes

It goes…slow…very slow.

The Percht is a violent creature and it’s hard for you to not get defensive when it charges as soon as he shifts. Still, you do everything to show it who’s boss, and who should be in control. This does help your strength training so it isn’t a complete waste but the beast is persistent. You try to communicate with it with screeches, roars, clicking, and even cooing, but nothing seems to work. König is frustrated and keeps saying there’s no point. Nothing stops you though, and this stubbornness and determination is something Soap passed on to you. You keep going at it, getting into a fight each time, sometimes coming back to base in rougher shape than before. Hunter doesn’t bother trying to dissuade you, simply scolds you from getting into such a dangerous fight.

One day, you get lucky and the Percht doesn’t attack you. Not the first time it’s done this, as sometimes it will put you in a false sense of safety like a stalking lion waiting for the prey to make the first move before attacking. It recognizes you properly as a threat but it knows that you are not the instigator so it simply waits for you to strike first. To anyone outside the two of you it would look like animals making noises and body language at each other. You don’t share it much with others, but sometimes the wendigo is its own entity. When you shift you’re in control but sometimes it comes out as your protector. In this case, it is speaking for you.

“You…dead… “ it wasn’t a threat.

“No. I am living. The earth gives me life.”

“Monster like…me.”

“Yes. But good monster. Protect you. Protect vessel. Protect pack.” You reply.

The Percht seems to laugh.

“Don’t need pack. Need kills. Need death.”

“No. You need pack. My pack, welcomes you. You must join. Survive.”

The Percht considers it for a moment.

“What you want?”

“You join pack.” You say. “Let vessel control. You make kills.”

The Percht stares at you and considers your proposal. The wendigo waits for its response patiently, but shifts a little. The Percht gives its answer.

“Want kills…want…control…”

“Pack is home… you join.”

The wendigo moves closer until their heads are inches from each other, before it stretches its neck to press its skull against the percht’s head. The Percht is oddly calm, and both of their bodies seem to relax for a moment. The percht’s head pushes against the wendigo but doesn’t part with it. It’s an odd moment of communalism, and one you share with König and your shared other halves.

The Percht is still known to take over, but König is able to have more control than he did previously. When Price learns about this, he is admittedly impressed, and encourages the two of you to work more. The rest of the team becomes more comfortable with König and even Rudy and Gaz give him more acknowledgement. König also becomes more comfortable with you, and you learn more about each other. Horangi’s presence is still regular, but he doesn’t feel as strong of a need to keep König in check when you and Hunter are nearby.

König returns the favour of teaching him control by teaching you how to fight bigger targets like him, in human and monster form. Soap keeps an eye on you though, still a little uneasy about König and if he has work to do, Ghost keeps watch and even offers some pointers for you.

König gets more and more comfortable with you and you with him. Seeing the pup getting closer with him makes the pack a little jealous, but less tense. On missions the two of you start to be partnered up, sometimes as clean up but usually as a destructive distraction.

When he does lose control or you’re unsure you approach and will carefully place your head against his. If he backs away it means he’s not there or someone else is nearby that’s considered a threat. If he presses back you know he’s safe.

Your relationship with König is a bit odd; you tend to him like you’re older than him. While you don’t talk down to him, and he gives the orders, when it comes to the beginning or end of missions you’re right beside him ready to help, and do check-ins during ops to see if he needs support. You’re one of the few people on base he feels comfortable around.

You encourage him to get closer with other members, specifically Rudolfo and Gaz as they tend to keep closer watch on König when they’re in the same room. Relationships go both ways though, and König’s hesitation calls for a different approach. Both men are uneasy. Yes they’re all hybrids and yes König had been showing better control, but his pleasure in his work makes them apprehensive.

“You guys came looking for me when I lost control.” You say. They look at each other.

“Yes but you weren’t mindless.” Rudolfo points out.

“He’s not either.” You argue.

“But you didn’t attack anyone. And he attacked you and could’ve killed you and us.” Gaz adds on.

“The report says he’s innocent.”

The conversation is like two older siblings trying to tell their younger sibling no over and over again. Your pleading bunny eyes is making it hard for them to stay firm. The missions and ops had been going well, and König was more cautious and careful in his rampages. They’re willing to give him some lenience, and there is some sparring between the three of them, that shows his softer side.

König learns other things about you though. He takes notice of you in the rec room, curled up on a couch napping. He gets closer and notices you squirming and moaning. Without much hesitation he wakes you. It startles you a little but you’re relieved. He doesn’t ask about it and instead asks rather bashfully if you want to rest against him. You end up laying on your side against his chest while he does some reading. You start fitting again, but it’s more violent. He holds on to you before gently shaking you. When you wake you don’t have the chance the lash out, with König using his large arms to hold you against him. You’re in tears and hyperventilating though and you make small noises that makes him concerned.

He doesn’t stop you from nestling into him, keeping a gentle hold on you. His wrap around you gets a little tighter, reminding you he’s there.

“Sorry.” You say.

“Bad Dream?” He asks, rhetorically. You don’t respond, and you don’t have to, as he put a hand on your head.

“König… don’t go into the dark alone…”

He wasn’t expecting you to say something so cryptic but he doesn’t pry at its meaning.

“I won’t… not alone.” He says. You tug at his shirt and he rubs your back and plays with your hair a bit until you’re able to fall asleep again. Soap comes in and finds you two. König’s face goes a little red while Soap just looks surprised you’re able to settle so well.

“Mind if I join ya?” He asks before sitting down on the arm rest. “She sleep the ole time?”

“N-no… she did wake up. Bad dream.” König admits.

“She ask you not to go into the dark alone?” He asks, his teasing grin turning to a serious expression. König nods.

“You know what it means?”

“I had some guesses. Kid told me her parents were off their bloody nuts, abused her and even locked er up in the basement. The only food they gave her made her a wendigo.” Soap explained. König had some guesses based on your old scars but didn’t realize it had gone so far. His hold around you gets tighter and he rests his chin on you head.

“What did you tell her…when she asked you?” Soap asks curiously.

“Told her I wouldn’t go… not alone at least.” König says quietly. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Soap.

“Want me to take her to her room?” Soap offers with his hands out. König holds you in a way that says “no mine”.

“I-I’m comfortable here. Thank you sergeant.” König mutters, starting to get sleepy himself. Soap sticks around and chats quietly with König. While Soap has left you and König together on missions before there was often a lingering bit of concern, especially after the tracking incident. You’ve only asked the two of them that question, not wanting to lose anyone else.

Your trauma is your own and you don’t share it if you don’t have to. Growing up your mother was obsessive over you, thinking you were some vessel for a creature you weren’t. You were once a jackalope through and through but now…you were a monster, after she locked you up and tossed down someone who was your friend at one point. You don’t remember their name very well, but recall them calling on you and your mother turning them away. It started your small rebellious phase, wanting to try new things and live a normal life. Only after you had to consume the food did the wendigo appear, in the horrible form you lost control over. The wendigo form you preferred manifested as a protector fighting and encouraging you to eat better. You hadn’t known much about it until recently, and assumed the one that craved human flesh was the only one there was. You don’t know how everything unfolded as everything was an on and off blur. Eventually you were taken away from your home and put into the program, and given a retainer to help you with your abnormalities.

Now you were in the custody of the 141. Soap didn’t wake you to tell you about the papers.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara

#cod au #john soap mactavish #hybrid au #jackalope #female reader #task force 141 x reader #wendigo #cod oc #konig cod #perchta #fluff #tw nightmares

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

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OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!!

“I need you, why do you always leave me?” With Narinder from Cotl with a reincarnated mortal s/o who always dies young? I’m such a sucker for this kind of troupe oh my lawd

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!

Ong this trope is so good it hurts </3

Request more angst/horror prompts here!

.......

"Lamb, you must perform the resurrection ritual again."

"Narinder, it's barely been two days.." With a weary sigh, the sheep closed their gospel book, already becoming irritated with their former master's blunt request. "I may have taken your role as death, but even I have my limits. I can't just do that ritual whenev-"

"I had to bury my spouse yet again."

".....oh." A small pit in formed in their stomach, knowing exactly who he was talking about. "Again? What happened this time?"

"Some fool thought it would be funny to dare [y/n] to eat a deadly dish...and they accepted it, only to die puking their guts out." Narinder huffed, although deep inside it killed him to know that your death this time around was entirely avoidable.

He never thought he'd ever care for a mortal..much less one of Lamb's first followers, who somehow kept dying young and became the first one they resurrected.

Your existence has become a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth, and he wondered when they'll finally accept that you're simply not meant to live a prolonged life.

However, now that he himself was in the cult and wedded to you...he saw things differently. From a new perspective.

After you died once right before his very eyes--and not through the Red Crown--he suddenly understood that same grief Lamb endured ugh after they killed one of their spouses, who became mind-controlled by Shamura.

He thought of them as weak.

But not anymore.

Not when it became his turn to suffer in a similar fashion, counting the hours (or days, even) until Lamb could resurrect you.

He lost count of how many times you've died since then, although he knows you aren't trying to kill yourself on purpose. You were very "accident-prone" and sometimes did stupid things that you shouldn't have---such as accepting a dare to eat a "deadly dish" stew.

You might've been a fool for that, but he still loved you.

Unfortunately, not even the golden skull necklace Lamb gifted you provided any protection from death....besides old age, of course.

At least Narinder knew you'd never pass away naturally, but knowing it couldn't spare you from other causes didn't make him feel any better.

"Fine..I will do the resurrection at dawn." Lamb finally caved, understanding how much you truly meant to him. "But you must talk to [y/n] about this. With each rebirth, they slowly forget more and more of their past lives."

"....is that so?" The black feline raised an eyebrow, surprised.

This was new information to him--although he never exactly had the chance to revive somebody over and over, except for his former vessel whenever they foolishly perished during a crusade.

But they were very different.

They were nigh-immortal...you weren't.

"First they forgot how they previously died, then they forgot which shelter they slept it, and then they forgot how to cook their favorite meal...you see where I'm going with this?"

He didn't speak, afraid that his former vessel was correct. But it's not something he wanted to think about at all...even though it's certainly possible.

Suddenly he was beginning to realize the repercussions of the same doctrine that got him exiled over a millennia ago..

"I can't watch over them all the time..as their spouse you're gonna have to step it up, or else...they might-"

"Just do the ritual, please.."

Lamb's ears flicked up with surprise, never expecting Narinder to grovel at their podium. The only other time he acted this way was when he begged them to kill him instead of sparing his life, although it didn't do him much good as they chose mercy.

But this time, they felt a bit of pity for him.

He must truly care about you.

They simply nodded. "I will need more bones."

.........

You found yourself back in a familiar place:

Floating over a glowing red sigil, followers in hoods kneeling all around you, Lamb's eyes glowing with a powerful energy....and you expelling ichor from your body in a rather disgusting display.

You never did get used to puking out this black magical goop.

But once you landed on the floorboards of the temple, you sighed in relief, wiping your mouth on your sleeve before gazing at everyone surrounding you.

"So...what have I missed?"

A few of them uncovered their hoods and greeted you, happy to see you return to the land of the living. Others kept their distance, looking rather annoyed that Lamb decided to resurrect you for the umpteenth time.

One, however, stood there motionless, refusing to remove his own hood.

You looked to him, watching as he approached you, being unsure of his intentions. Although judging from the way other followers hastily moved out of his way...this person must have held great influence over them.

The fact that he had three glowing red eyes was most alluring.

Have you met him before?

Before you could ask him who he was, he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. "H-Hey! Ouch!" You winced, feeling his claws slightly digging into you as he began dragging you out of the temple.

"Where are you taking me??"

"....stop talking."

His voice was low and quiet, and also....sad?

You were immensely confused by this mystery follower's behavior, especially as he led you to his hut--one that was more decorative than the standard shelters on the other side of the cult grounds.

While you remained silent, you couldn't help being bedazzled by the outside of it, although you didn't have time to really get a good look around the inside.

Because the next thing you knew...

You were pushed onto the bed, with him crawling onto it and laying beside you. Then he uncovered his hood, two long cat ears flicking upwards as his eyes met yours for a brief moment.

And in that split second, you swore they were filled to the brim with tears.

You blinked, afraid to speak considering how angry he sounded just moments ago, but you were even more perplexed when he flopped onto your chest. From his throat, a purring sound rumbled, and you could feel it throughout your entire body....and in your very soul.

"Please..don't do this to me..." His ears flattened.

"Do....what?" Reaching down, you awkwardly placed a hand on his head, slowly petting his fur and hoping it provided him some comfort. "I don't know what's wrong, but..I hope this is okay."

Your uncertain tone only further devastated Narinder. This was exactly how you'd comfort him after his nightmares. He only ever allowed you to see him in such moments of vulnerability, so you never needed to ask for his permission. You would simply do it.

Had you forgotten that, too?

Was that damned Lamb right after all?

Were you forgetting.....him?

"I need you, why do you always leave me?" He mumbled, heartbroken as the tears slid down his cheeks, droplets splattering onto the symbol adorning your ragged shirt. "With each new life, I-I'm...losing more and more of you, [y/n]. I don't know if you are cursed or if it's fate deciding to test me....o-or maybe Lamb's followers wish to see me suffer....but...I'm so tired of watching you die and being unable to do anything about it. I've taken you for granted.."

"................."

".....forget it. You don't even know what day of the week it is..why do I bother trying?" With a sniffle, he reluctantly removed himself from your arms, believing he blew his last chance to save your memories..

Now you were acting like a total stranger to him, and it honestly felt as though you had already died before you even left the temple.

Maybe this was a sign that he needed to stop and move on.

Maybe he simply wasn't destined for love.

Maybe this was karma for all the atrocities committed in his name.

Maybe the next time you perished, no matter the reason, he'll-

"It's easy to forget things like that, Nari...but how could I ever forget the love of my life?"

Blinking through his tears, Narinder felt his breath hitch when your hand gently grasped his own. He looked back at you with astonishment, before glancing down at the matching rings that still adorned your fingers.

Then he gazed into your eyes, seeing your smile.

"You..remember me?"

"Of course I do, you silly kit---woah!!" You were suddenly tackled back onto the bed by your husband, feeling him nuzzling up to you and purring even louder than before.

But you simply giggled and held him closely, petting his fur in a comforting way. "I'm sorry for scaring you...it takes a while for all my memories to come back. D-Did I do anything dumb last time?"

"Just...promise me you'll never accept a dare from anybody again." He huffed, trying to hide the fact he was still sniveling like a helpless kitten.

"Alright." You sighed. "I promise to be more careful. I'll try harder to watch my back, too."

"Do you swear it?"

"...I swear it."

"Good."

#clanask #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl narinder #cotl narinder x reader #narinder x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #angst/horror prompt

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gear-project · 1 month

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Taken from Twitter. Label is Paramirum II (a variant of Paracelsus).

The Gate Design is taken from the Sephirot/Qliploth or "Tree of Life".

Otherwise the other label is Hoenheim (the Alchemist's surname).

I can't say for sure if this is Flament Nagel's original form (since he possessed multiple body vessels over the years, but it is one form he can take).

The other is his old Goat-Skull Look:

Side Note: Flament Nagel's Historical Nickname is the "Sanguine Gale" [Budoshu no Tachikaze]

#Flament Nagel #Paracelsus #GG Weapons #GG Concept Art #GG Labels #War Relic #War Relics

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supernaturalfreewill · 6 months

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You stared at the man in the trench coat. "An angel. You really expect me to believe that?"

He looked perplexed. After all, he had just appeared inside your house right in front of you. How else could you account for that? "...Yes," he said simply.

Your eyes narrowed. "Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, a spinning wheel of eyes and cyclical wings?" You sounded skeptical.

"My true form would burn your eyes in your skull and cause your soul to splinter. This is just a vessel."

You stared at him again for a long moment. "Fuck off," you said. "I'm too pagan for this shit. Get out of my house..." You actually turned your back on him and started to walk away into the next room. Cas was at a loss. This had never quite happened before. This was new...

"Wait—"

You rounded on him again. "You really expect me to believe that you're some sort of heavenly, super-powered being and your Earth disguise is a dude from probably, like, Ohio and a suit and a trench coat? You look like my dad's financial advisor," you said dryly. "Look, whatever this is, I'm not interested, okay? Thanks for teleporting in, but I'll let you find your own way out... I've got a lot of shit to do for the upcoming equinox..."

Okay... Angel or not, Cas was out of his depth. He needed back-up. Sam and Dean. He needed the Winchesters. He pulled out his phone.

You let out a loud laugh. "A cell phone? This just keeps getting better and better..."

Cas pressed the phone to his ear. Please pick up. Please pick up. Pleeeease pick up.

#castiel imagines #castiel drabbles #supernatural #spn fics #cas x reader #angel of the lord

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juicyolpickle · 17 days

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Live stages of my oc Tina who’s species now has a name (void dweller) I wanted to root this character more with spec biology and think about how they may have came to be.

The larva is the first stage of any void dwellers life, they seemingly resemble beetle larvae but unlike any insect larva these are abnormally big and stand around 3 feet tall, have see-through skin, and have 5 feet.

Not much is known of the actual origin of this larva and what point in history they appeared, all is known is that none have been found outside of caves. So far only 7 specimens have been found throughout the 38 years of their discovery. All being in separate locations and even different countries.

The larvae are extremely resistant when it comes to lack of food and will feast upon slat clusters found in cave systems. Once the larva come across any organic material such as a body of any animal, the larva will gorge itself with anything that they have. This will activate a dormant period within the larva and won’t move or do any activities within the 5 month period, throughout this time the larva will become noticeably bloated and enlarged. After this period of inactivity a fully formed pale creature will sprout out of the larva’s body.

This gross pale fetus was not part of the larvae conciseness but is a completely new individual on its own and unlike butterfly’s with metamorphosis, the larva was used as it’s vessel.

Depending on what the larva ate, the genetic material varies on the individual. Here is a visual example of different void dwellers. The only thing in common that they may share is the loss of skin around the face and in some cases the whole body, exposing the muscle and skull. They all begin to loose their eyelids within age leaving the eyes fully exposed with deep dark sockets.

#spec bio #speculative biology #speculative evolution #spec evo #speculative fiction #artists on tumblr #speculative worldbuilding #speculative ecology #ocs #original character #cryptid

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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

Text

Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: we're taking a turn for the weirder, next chapter will be slightly more comfort than hurt (you know, as much as i know how to write comfort). for now, all we have is darkness and edginess. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (wow that never fking happens on this blog), Soulmates, Emotional Torture, Biting (not the sexy kind), like...a teeny tiny smidge of cannibalism.

Summary: The psychological torment of being chosen for the Devil tips over as he visits you in your sleep.

PT.1

At first, you're not aware that you're dreaming. A strange haze falls over your vision, as if you've just woken up from a devastating fever. Your limbs sway slowly, like you're treading through honey. It fascinates you, the way the light of a streetlamp flickers over your fingers, as you raise your hand. Bare feet on the concrete, your toes contract, pebbles stuck to the skin. The air feels weird on your skin, like liquid pouring over your form in an invisible cascade. It feels real enough, yet so far away.

You remember falling asleep on Bobby's guest bed, brought down by the events of the night. What were those events, you couldn't remember, but you can smell smoke swirling in your nose and your eyes are puffy with tears. You sniffle, swipe your hand across your face and feel as if by this simple gesture, your skin has been pulled like fresh taffy. Perhaps you have died in your sleep. The thought is, for some reason, incredibly funny to you, and from somewhere far away you can hear a voice, strangely similar to yours, giggle. It echoes through your skull like a church bell, and you groan at the reverberating sound.

- Crossroads? Really? - you turn around without any grace in your movement, as another voice rings out right next to you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel all the muscles in your body constric, then relax forcefully, as if some invisible strength was trying to keep you docile.

There he stands. So human, so plain, it tugs on your heart in a way you were not expecting. Lucifer. His hands clasped in front of him, red spots and abrasions decorating his skin in a grotesque display. Sick, your brain supplies, he looks sick, as if he's starting to rot where he stands, and suddenly, in this strange dream the worst possible feeling comes to surface. You pity him, truly and deeply. Normally you'd jot it down to caring for the poor man he has chosen for his temporary vessel, but here, where reality doesn't exist, you can't force yourself to entertain this lie. Your fingers flex at your sides, a need to heal, to help, pushing at them to come forward, to cradle his face like he did to yours.

God help you, you wanted to help this monster.

Then, his words register in your brain, and you finally look around.

You're in the middle of a cement road, somewhere you don't recognize, and sure enough, there is a crossroad. You haven't been to one in such a long time. Not since Dean got dragged to hell and pushed by grief, you were about to do something unbelievably stupid. You remember begging. Actually begging a demon to take your soul, to save your friend, only to be met with a cruel laughter and emptiness so profound, it nearly broke you. Shame washes through you like a sudden wave, and you try to keep some integrity by encircling your chest with your arms. It does you little to no comfort, and Lucifer cocks his head to the side, as if he's in tune with your emotions.

- Do you dream of this place often? - Lucifer asks, walking around you at a slow pace.

You don't know how to respond. Do you? Perhaps that is the case, perhaps somehow you've always had some sort of connection to the crossroads, where the most wicked of deals were made. Perhaps it was all his fault, from the very beginning. You nod, once, not trusting your own voice, and the Devil flashes you a quick smile, before his expression darkens, as if he's deeply in thought. There are prominent shadows falling over his face, his eyes sunken even more than you remember.

- I can't find you - he finally looks up at you, and your heart stops just for a second - You're invisible to me, I wonder, why is that?

Castiel, you immediately think, and you have to look away from him at the memory of your friendly neighborhood Angel carving Enochian symbols into your bones. It's almost like you can feel them, beneath your skin, beneath the muscle and the guts. Not hurting, not really. Just, there. A constant reminder, that you're hunted by a being that feels entitled to your very existence. Being, which is currently taking small steps towards you, looking over your body as if you were a piece of prime meat in a display case at a grocery store.

- You're hiding from something you cannot stop - he says, and you feel the coldness of his breath on your collarbones - It's Dad's will after all.

That, for some reason, wakes you up from your previous stupor. Shaking your head, you try to take a step back, a litany of "no's" spilling from your lips. To that, he frowns, grabs at your shoulders to keep you in place, and with a sudden wave of horror you realize, you can't move. And you want to move so badly, your body feels as if it's tearing itself in half. White fire, cold burning floods you, when his hands make contact with your skin, fingers skimming over the flesh of your arms, dragging down and down, until they grab at your wrists.

- I don't want this - there's conviction in your voice you were not expecting, because truly and deeply, you fucking hate this situation, this responsibility which has been placed upon you without your knowledge or consent.

Lucifer laughs an airy laugh.

Gently, as if you're a porcelain doll, he brings your hands closer to his face. He maneuvers your fingers, eyes watching with fascination at the way your knuckles move under your skin. The tendons, the veins, he swallows it all with a greedy gaze, and the coldness of his breath makes hairs stand at the back of your neck.

- I'm not particularly thrilled by this revelation myself - he whispers to your fingertips - I mean, isn't this insulting? To force me to care for a thing I swore to hate.

You shudder at the sudden harshness in his voice, and his hands dig further into the meat of your wrist. Reminding yourself that this is just a dream, you try to steel your nerves, focus on leveling your breathing, on freeing yourself from his grasp. It's harder than you anticipate, trying to collect any sort of self-preservation, while your mind is cradled by the smothering blanket of whatever dream-magic has been placed on you.

- But then again, I am a child of an absent father - something akin to mirth flashes through his face, and as he looks up at you, eyes gleaming with something you're too scared to decipher, you're convinced you'll never truly escape him - And such a gift... - he sighs deeply within his chest, pressing the scarred surface of his cheek to your palm - Well, who am I to deny it?

Your face twists into an expression of disgust, and with a whine, you tear yourself away, craning your body as far from him as it is willing to go. Which arguably isn't much. His grip on your body tightens, arms digging into you, as he forces a perversion of a hug onto your unwilling frame.

- I've killed for less - he whispers into your ear, and revels in the way your entire body shivers - You're really lucky, and I don't think you quite realize how much.

- I don't want to be lucky - painted nails dig into the cotton of his shirt, as you try your hardest to hurt him, force him to back up, or just react to your defiance in any other way than patronizing indifference. - I want nothing to do with you, I don't want you.

To that, he humms low in his throat, and you whimper, as cold lips descent upon the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You can't truly describe the kind of fear he brings upon you, but your entire body seems to surrender despite your best efforts at doing otherwise. Must be magic, you reason. He must've placed you under some kind of a spell, there is no other explanation.

- Don't you think you're being just a tad ungrateful? - he asks, nose dragging along your artery - I mean, here I am, ready to love you, to care for you, to accept you as the gift that you are... - he takes a long drag of your hair, savoring the scent as your knees start to buckle - And you're ready to throw it all away because, what exactly? Because I'm what my Father has made me?

- Because you're a monster, only capable of hurting others - you seethe through your teeth, and immediately get cut off, when presses your bodies tighter together, something worryingly similar to a growl resounding deep within his chest.

- Is that what you think?

You've made a mistake, immediately you can recognize that. Playing the tough guy in front of the literal Devil, while having no real idea of the supposed bond tying you both together, wasn't your smartest moment. Cold sweat forms on your forehead, when Lucifer extends his hands out, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. Then, looking at you from that small distance, he gives you a strangely bored look. Like he has seen everything you've done play out in front of him a million times, like he knows all there is to know about you.

God save you, you hate that look more than any atrocity he has committed.

- Don't look at me like that - bravery, or stupidity, you can't decide as words leave your mouth in a snarl. - You don't know anything about me.

- I know all that's important - he counters - I know God made you for me.

He takes a step closer, and suddenly you've grown very tired of this constant dance. His hands massage their way towards your shoulders, where he grips you tight and drags you towards him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest, but he straightens you out forcefully, like you're some doll he can maneuver all he likes.

- I know you're rebellious, just like me - his whisper seeps into your very being, as if you've become infected by his gentle tone - You're lonely, just like me.

You want to shake your head no, you really want to, but he keeps you frozen, enchanted by his sudden closeness, and the barely noticable note of vulnerability hidden in his grey eyes.

Sam and Dean flood your mind. Your boys, your closest friends. The times you've spent together were few and far between, but you cherish them. You truly do. Which is why, your heart breaks at the realization, that Lucifer is right. Despite the bars, and the hunts, and the long drives, you're lonely. Loneliness follows you like a shadow, too ingrained into your bones to ever leave. But not right now, never when he's around.

- It's okay, you know - Lucifer sighs, leaning down to kiss right between your collarbones - Sooner or later you'll realize, there's no shelter, no hideout where I wouldn't find you. That's true love, babe.

- Stop - a plea slips between your lips, quiet and pathetic, reminiscent of when you've fallen to your knees, begging a demon to bring your friend back.

What you were pleading for this time, you couldn't really comprehend, all you know is, you don't want to do this. You can't do this, and if this really was true love, wasn't he supposed to understand?

The beating of your hear escalates, when he moves to grab at your face, hands so perfectly fitting alongside your jaw. He turns your head from side to side, as if wanting to commemorate every angle, etch it into his mind. If it were any other man, you'd be over the moon. If he wasn't a threat of catastrophic magnitude, just waiting to end the lives of your friends and everyone on Earth, you would've craned your neck further, given him access. Accepted your fate.

Yet, when his cold lips press into yours, it's so easy to forget why you've been unwilling all this time. He's gotten better at it, you muse, as he kisses your unmoving mouth, trying to pull some reaction out of you. Finally, you gasp, when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down hard enough to draw blood. Immediately he takes advantage, thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw, until you have no choice, but to open up to him. It's nauseating, the way he kisses you, as if he needs to map out the insides of your mouth right this instance.

Lucifer pulls away so suddenly, for a second you follow his mouth before steeling yourself. Blood trickles down from your bitten lips, and he launches at the small streak. Tongue laps at the skin of your chin, licking off every trace of red, and the sound he makes is downrigh sinful. Then, emboldened by your taste, his hands push upwards, the muscles of your neck straining, as he moves your head back.

The skin of your throat is exposed and pulled taunt, and your entire body is ready to collapse, when he presses open mouthed kisses along your trachea. Then, as you let out a whimper, he moves to the side, kissing and licking a line towards your pulse point. He stays there for a moment, dragging his teeth down the cullumn of your throat, hard enough to make you squirm in discomfort. From gentle coaxing, his ministrations took a sharp turn to roughter territories.

- So sweet - Lucifer muses to himself, taking another whiff of your scent - I could just eat you up.

Something in his tone of voice startles you. It's not a cute love confession, a cliche line from a romantic movie. From his lips, it sounds daunting, like a promise he can't wait to fulfill. Your eyes swipe downwards, but all you can see is the top of his head, as he dips down to further abuse your throat. He's not gentle by any means, all teeth and no comfort with the way he nibbles at the skin behind your ear. It's pleasurable, or it would be, if it were any other person, or a person at all.

Then, the air seems to shift, a sinister streak you're not familiar with crawls the lenght of your back, and you tremble like a caught bird in his unwavering grasp. As if sensing the change, his hands switch the hold on your face, supporting the underside of your jaw and chin, pulling up and up, until you have to stand on your tippy toes.

- Perhaps I should - ringing fills your ears as tears flood the corners of your eyes - Perhaps that will show you, who you belong to.

And with that, he pulls back. Like a priest raising his cup at the Holy Communion, he raises your head, eyes roaming across the marks he has made on your throat. And then, he dives down, jaw open, teeth glistening in the darkness of the night.

You can feel it all, as he tears through skin and muscle, sinking into your trachea as if taking a bite out of a ripe apple. Your scream sounds so far away, so muddled, for a moment you can't recognize it's you that's screaming. Then, he pulls back with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and your voice dies down in a gargle. Blood floods your mouth, spills through your teeth, a waterfall of red soaking your entire front. Through hazy vision you see him chew and swallow, and the sight churns your insides, as you double over, bile quickly making it's way up what's left of your throat.

Except, it doesn't hit the pavement. It lands on the wooden floors of Bobby's guest room. Confusion barely registers in your panicked state, as you roll off the bed, grabbing at the gaping wound in your throat. A wound that isn't there at all. Phantom pain wrenches a series of shouts from you, like an animal caught in a trap. Begging from help. Knowing it will recieve none. The coarse surface of the floor scratches at your thighs, as you push yourself into a nearest corner, tears mixing with sweat on your face.

That's when Dean rushes in, Sam right after him. Any other day, you'd consider their company a blessing, but right now all you can think of, is what Lucifer has in store for them. How he can hurt them, to get to you. Castiel teleports into the room soon after, and you wish the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole.

- He was... - you wince, voice creaking like old hinges - He was in my dream.

That's all Sam needs to cross the room and kneel in front of you, gently pulling at your hands, which are still clutching the non-existent wound on your throat. The skin is red and raw, nail marks trail down from under your chin to your collarbones, but there is nothing else.

- I know - Sam whispers, arms encircling you in a warm hug, that just feels like entrapment - I know, I'm so sorry.

Deep down you know, he understands. The weight of being promised to the Devil, the torment he can bring upon a person, the fear. But right now, all you can feel are teeth, and lips, and hands which are too cold to be anything other than a monster.

Castiel has questions, you can see it, in the way his eyes scan the room, fall on your shaking frame, still pushed into a corner. He doesn't ask them, thankfully, opting to gruffly mutter something about checking the wards around the house. Bobby yells from his office, Dean yells back. You try to focus on the warmth coming from Sam's chest. You stay like that for a couple more minutes, before finally, calming down enough to stand up and wipe your tears off your face with a heavy hand.

- We'll figure something out - Sam supplies his usual response to anything Apocalypse related.

What used to be a hopeful promise, right now sounds more like a hollow echo.

Dean keeps his opinions to himself, chewing on them as he hands you a beer fresh out of the fridge. Only when the liquid freezes it's way down your pipes, you are certain your throat is where it should be. Your brain is coming back as well, rebellion, loneliness, all the traits Lucifer has read from you. They mix with anger, slowly rising within your chest, because fuck that. Fuck him, fuck God and fuck every single entity responsible for your current predicament.

- Yeah - you force yourself to sound convinced - Yeah, we'll kick his fucking ass.

#my writing #supernatural #lucifer x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn lucifer #spn #spn x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #besties i don't think we can “power of love” this one through

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astro-b-o-y-d · 2 months

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 3 - An Unwelcomed Guest

— — — — — — —

Bill’s head hurt.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body.

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past.

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later.

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate.

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate.

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees?

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious.

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

“Stop talking.”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze.

Oh, he was real mad.

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You’re really getting dull in your old age, Fordsy.”

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably.

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Heck with it, he couldn’t resist the chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons. To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted?

If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home.

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation.

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track.

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better.

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist, nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place.

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight.

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened as he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him.

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “But seriously, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good—”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said, pressing a weary hand to his temple. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He took a sweeping glance around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.”

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out.

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.”

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind.

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents.

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kinda—”

She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.”

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to his knees, and he gave the two of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids.

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side.

When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

His hand once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — —

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe?—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated.

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford. So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines. You and the kids, of course.”

It didn’t bother him.

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise.

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back.

Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack.

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write.

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him.

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned.

Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year.

A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull.

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet lightly bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn’t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause.

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—his everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head.

A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay.

And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can’t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Hmm, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “I can’t even hear just how much this chair is probably screaming from the way I’ve been rocking it back and forth.”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the guy’s absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed.

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!”

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I believe was on my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects.

What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react.

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Bill Cipher #Stanford Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art)#(Stan and Mabel get some decent screentime in this chapter as well)

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