Fluffy Bill Cipher x Reader Oneshots

Your computer... concerns me

Bill finds your smut. Run.

"I- I don't even have words to express how much I hate this," Bill says with a groan. "Why? Why in the multiverse would you write this?"

You look down at your computer with shame. The smutty, gross little fantasy, the mess you wrote. "So Dipper's hands (woah, so much censorship because this is fluff) and Bill (censorship everywhere omg)," it reads. 

"Care to explain?" Bill asks. 

"I-I-"

You mutter something any average human would find unintelligible, but in fact, it's some swear word he taught you. 

He laughs. "Fun fact: did you know that actually means 'angle?'" he asks. "It's a very taboo word where I'm from. ANYWAYS,"

He looks at you, a mischievous look in his eye. "You're gonna have a fun night."

Timeskip brought to you by the Time Police: Time Baby needs you!

You lay down, exhausted out of your mind, ready to sleep. You remember what Bill said about "a fun night," but what could that mean?

Maybe-

No. You refuse to acknowledge that thought. You close your eyes, and within seconds, you are asleep.

You're running through a tunnel, and each time you near the end, its length grows by a mile. Your legs are burning, you're out of breath, but you're trying to outrun that... thing before it does God knows what with you. 

You can't run anymore, your legs give out. You cower in fear as the large creature looms over you. It picks you up, and you shriek before the scene changes. 

It's a strawberry field. The ripe, red fruit is growing. It's peaceful. You pick up a berry and toss it in your mouth. It's sweet. You eat another, but this one isn't as sweet. It's sour, it's probably been there for too long. You find that your body starts moving on its own accord, forcing you to swallow the disgusting strawberry, and when you do, you find that your whole body starts to twist and morph. You look down to find that your skin is becoming red like that strawberry. Your body is shrinking to the size of one of the strawberries, and you find that after a while, you are one of the many strawberries in the field. You try to speak, to scream, but a strawberry can't talk. 

A man comes along and picks you up. "Please," you try to say. "Please."

He doesn't notice, because to him, you're just another one of the many strawberries. After a few hours, you're in a plastic container, in a truck, going somewhere. It's dark. 

When you wake up, you find a certain someone on your head. You pick him up and scold him.

"Just for that, you're receiving tickle torture!"

"What?! No! No, I hate that-"

His please are drowned out by hysterical laughter as you tickle the small triangle. When you're done after around fifteen minutes, he punches your arm, but it really doesn't hurt. He's weak here, after all.

"I'll bring some of my food up for you," you promise. "After I eat. You think about what you did."
"I don't need it."
"Okay, but food is good. Even you have to like it!"
"Not your food. Your food is nasty."

You're slightly hurt by his comment. He picks up on it and grumblingly apologizes. No matter how hard it is for him to admit it, he does love you, and you love him.

Maybe one day.