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#That glare may put the fear of god into others
severussnapemylove · 2 months
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(Severus glares at reader)
Y/N; "Not for nothing, Sev, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid."
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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months
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Imagine there is a god who been asleep as many fear them, till they have forgotten about them, and the moment Ragnarok have started Zeus, Odin, and Shiva feels their presence and it's the physical primordial of primary fear
And they are fighting for humanity survival, as their physical appearance is the every common thing that many fear to a body of a pale white human body who is both beautiful and terrifying
-The day had finally arrived, Ragnarok, the fighters on both sides were ready, ready to fight for their entertainment and their survival, unaware that a long-forgotten storm was about to return.
-The different fighters for both sides were announced, giving the audience a glimpse of the impending fights, all warriors in the center of the ring, sizing each other up, as they didn’t know who was going to fight each other just yet.
-This gave a chance for opponents to see who they could challenge, and in turn, tell the organizers who they wanted to fight against.
-Brunnhilde and Zeus met in the center, going over the rules for the matches, so there would be a fair fight, including weapons and the assistance from the valkyries, to give humans a fighting chance.
-A low rumble then shook the arena, starting off small before growing to a full-blown earthquake, causing screams to echo through the arena, even the gods were shouting, demanding an explanation.
-A rush of power ran through the arena and Zeus, Odin, Hades, and Shiva all froze, turning and looking around as an icy cold aura seemed to fill the arena, one that everyone could feel.
-Many felt chills of fear running down their spines before an icy hold took over the arena, as if a snowstorm arrived. Goll’s teeth were chattering, “What’s going on?”
-Zeus swallowed hard, looking terrified, “Y/N…” confusion filled the arena as many looked at him and Shiva turned, “Parvati- take Ganesha and the others and get out of here- now!”
-Odin then spoke, his voice echoing, “Warriors- humans and gods- prepare yourselves. We may be facing the only person who could destroy Valhalla!”
-Brunnhilde summoned her sisters, preparing to fight alongside the warriors and they were quick to answer.
-Goll then spoke, clinging to Brunnhilde, “What’s happening? Who is Y/N?” Odin, who came to stand beside the two valkyries, answered, “An ancient deity of winter, the first winter deity. Y/N is the reason that the Ice Age caused by the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs didn’t destroy both earth and Valhalla. They pulled the rampaging storm, the cold, ice, and snow, into their body, at the cost of putting them in a sleep for centuries, as it was too much for Y/N to handle.”
-Goll panicked, knowing of the event, holding onto Odin’s robe, “Now Y/N’s awake?!” He nodded, not looking at her, “There is no other explanation to this power we all feel.”
-The warriors prepared themselves, preparing to fight as a figure moved through the icy mist into the arena, slowly revealing you, pure white hair and skin, looking like you were made of ice and snow yourself, stunningly beautiful, and your eyes glowing an icy white, your breathing harsh and ragged.
-Your mouth opened as another wave of energy rushed from you, chilling all of them to the bone as slowly rising scream escaped your lips, one that sounded so pained, like you were in agony.
-Odin’s eye widened before narrowing, “The power is still too much for them!” your eyes closed and then snapped open, ice appearing at your feet, as you were completely bare, but unbothered by your nakedness, as the ice encased the ground of the arena.
-People were screaming in fear, begging to be saved, but Zeus held out his arms to the side, “Don’t do anything! Y/N may not attack us if we don’t attack first.”
-Shiva glared, punching his fists together, “So what we just wait for them to attack us first?” Zeus turned with a slight glare, “You’re one of the few that know just how powerful Y/N is. You know we can’t risk this.” Shiva’s jaw clenched, knowing it was true.
-Your movements were stiff and achy, your back hunched, posture awful from being asleep for so long, the power making you lose control of your body.
-Another rush of energy escaped you with another pained scream before you collapsed to your knees, steam rising from your body as you panted heavily, your eyes slowly returning to normal as you slowly made your power, the power of the Ice Age, submit to your whim.
-Everyone remained still, waiting on bated breath, afraid of something happening before one human, Sasaki Kojiro, ran towards you, pulling off his red haori and quickly kneeled wrapping it around you, as you were completely bare.
-The gods flinched, terrified this human just offended you, but he just smiled, “There- now you’re at least covered.” You lifted a hand to his cheek, and he found you like ice as you gave him a soft smile, “Thank you human.”
-Seeing you calm and not at all hostile, the strongest of the gods, who knew you, instantly exhaled in relief, as they knew, sensing the power in your body, that they would be no match for you, even working together.
-You stood as the others approached, Zeus looking nervous as you looked down at him, reaching out to cup his cheeks, “Zeus?” he nodded, looking hopefully that you wouldn’t be mad, as he was the one who didn’t control the meteor and underestimated the power behind the Ice Age, which led to your unending nap.
-Moments later he was shouting, “Ow-ow-ow!! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!!” you were pinching and pulling his cheeks, scolding him, “What were you thinking doing something so reckless?!”
-After you let him go, you turned and instantly Odin, Hades, and Shiva covered their cheeks with their hands, making you smile before you looked around, seeing the humans and the gods together, “What is all this?”
-Everyone was hesitant on telling you, as you were always soft on humans, as you knew they were stronger than the gods believed, and the gods knew that if you found out what they had planned to do, you would be pissed.
-Zeus then popped up, his cheeks red and swollen, “We were having a fighting tournament to celebrate the relationship between gods and humanity!”
-Everyone froze, panicking that this wasn’t going to work, as Brunnhilde told the humans to go along, as there would be no way for them to fight you and you smiled, “I apologize for interrupting then.”
-Everyone waved off your apology, telling you they could clean up and have the tournament another day, as all the gods instantly agreed, silently, that they couldn’t go through with the tournament and they needed to quickly fix the mess that they caused, not wanting to incur your wrath.
-Everyone had to be careful in the coming days as you got used to life in Valhalla again, not wanting to piss you off, they didn’t want to risk their lives and homes, and keeping you happy was their most important mission.
-However, thanks to Kojiro and several other humans that you got to know, this was easy, as you loved to hear about their lives, hearing about their battles and how they survived, it proved you right, that humans were stronger than anyone expected.
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brodieland · 12 days
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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗
Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Its the day of the party, and Percy and Y/N have some realizations. Does it go the good way or bad way??? Warning(s): cursing, underage drinking, sex jokes if I may Word Count: 2555 A/N: the urge to add a little bit of a smau was too great I fear😕
╰➤ MASTERLIST pt5
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You were currently in your sisters room laying on her bed, thinking about why you even agreed to go in the first place. Silena was currently digging around her closet for something to wear, and let out a groan as she turned toward you.
"Y/N, this one or this one," she held up a pink dress and a nearly Identical slightly darker pink dress.
"Silena, I hate to be the one to say this, but I swear its not this serious," she rolled her eyes as she threw down the dresses and went back into her closet. "I liked the pink one though."
She kept running through her closet before pulling out a black dress, "Is this yours, I don't remember buying this?"
"Hm," you sat up and faced her examining the dress. "Did you not buy this during your secret little 'emo' phase?"
"God don't remind me," you chuckled at her embarrassment. "Suits you though, here. Maybe you can wear it later."
She tossed you the dress and she was right. It did suit you. "Maybe I can."
﹒º. ౨ৎ
@Y/N2lit ● 20 min
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Liked by BeauregardOnTop and others... @Y/N2lit: me n my sister a lit asf duo @BeauregardOnTop View comments...
@BeauregardOnTop: ayo emo ass fit?? →@Y/N2lit: @BeauregardOnTop this is ur dress?? but if I brought up ur emo phase suddenly im the villian right? →@BeauregardOnTop: @Y/N2lit oh okay sorry
@percy2lit: holy skibidi →@Y/N2lit: WHY DID U CHANGE UR USER TO MATCH MINE →@percy2lit: wow I didn't even notice🤷🏻‍♂️ →@Y/N2lit: delete ur acc lil boy
﹒º. ౨ৎ
'Who does he think he is?' You and Silena were still in her room getting ready while she put on her 16th layer of lipgloss.
"Your gonna run out of lipgloss, and you just bought it," you said without looking up from your phone.
"I need to look as good as possible," you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"My god you'll be fine. You would have guys falling at your feet even if your lips were chapped and gross."
She jokingly glared and you chuckled, suddenly the door bell ringed. You and Silena walked downstairs and saw your dad standing by the door staring at Percy, not looking very amused.
"Percy," you asked.
"Hey Y/N, I said I'd pick you up at nine didn't I?"
You looked down and saw that it was in fact, nine on the dot. "You're a punctual fella aint ya?"
"And what's going on here," you dad sternly asked. He looked between you two with an eyebrow raised.
"Well," your sister started. "Y/N here is going out, so that means so can I, right?"
"You look really good by the way," Percy interjected, earning a glare from your dad and a chuckle from your sister.
"And how were you planning me on 'picking me up,'" you used air quotes as you ignored your dad. "Did you plan on stuffing me in the basket of your bike?"
Percy looked back at his blue bike laying down in the lawn, then back at you. "Maybe I didn't think that far ahead, but its the thought that counts, no?"
You laughed at his effort. "Yeah okay, sure. Anyways I'm driving," you said as you swung your fingers around your fingers and walked out to your car.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
Charles and Leo were at the party, one was drinking in peace and the other one was slowly starting to freak out. Guess who's who.
"Dude, just relax," Leo said as he tried shoving his drink into Charles face. He just moved it away with his hand.
"You don't understand me sometimes."
"Thank fucking god. I think I'd kill myself," Charles just glared at Leo, and he held his arms up in surrender. Both of them paused when they heard the front door open and Charles whipped his head around. He saw Silena walk in and he could've sworn a fly flew in his mouth. Her pink dress fit her beautifully and the way her long dark hair fell behind her made her look unreal.
"Y/Ns actually pretty hot when she tries," Leo nodded approvingly. He turned to his friend and saw him shamelessly staring at the other sister. "Dude, you look like a creep. Go talk to her."
"Your welcome," Charles clearly was not paying attention.
"The house is on fire."
"Yeah no, I got it."
"I'm literally getting my dick sucked right now."
"Cool- what," Charles turned as quick as possible and stared right a Leo.
"The house on fire gets no reaction but me getting a blowjob is absolutely outlandish??" Leo sassed.
"Can you not talk about your dick??"
"Can you focus up on your lady," Leo pointed back over to Silena, and to the slowly approaching Luke coming in from 'round the corner. "Might be time to lock in, I dunno know though, don't quote me."
Charles shrugged Leo off and went walking towards Silena. "Hey, you made it."
"Yeah thanks to you," Silena said as she continued to scan the room. She looked back at Charles and quickly looked him up and down and cleared her throat. "You clean up nice y'know."
"Yeah, you look-"
"Hey gorgeous," Luke announced from behind Silena, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Glad your here."
Silena smiled as she thanked him and looked back at Charles. "Hey Charles, I'll see you around, alright?"
"Yeah, um. Sure," Charles watched Luke smiled at him like an asshole as he led Silena away. Charles turned back around and made his way towards Leo again.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
You watched from afar as Luke made his move on your sister, sending you weird looks as he did so. God how you hated him more than anything. He was a massive douche and it bothered you to think Silena could like a guy like that, but then again, surface deep attractions all he's got going for him, and you knew your sister would hopefully find that out on her own.
You just tried to ignore it and went off to the kitchen for some shots. You saw a half filled bottle Smirnoffs and quickly secured it for yourself.
One shot. Two shot.
Then Percy walked into the kitchen. "Woah, whats the rush?"
"I only had two," you said as Percy took a shot for himself. He decided that was it if this was the way you were going to drink throughout the night. "Isn't this what I'm 'supposed' to be doing. Drinking and dancing?"
You snatched the bottle and took a third shot. You knew you should've probably stopped there, at least for now, but Luke was terribly flirting with your sister, and murder was depressingly illegal. Percy looked away for a second and when he looked back you were gone. He quickly walked around trying to look for you when he was stopped by Charles.
"Dude, we have to stop this," he said.
"Stop what," Percy asked.
"This whole thing," he waved his arms around. "She doesn't want me, she just wants him."
He looked sad and defeated, and Percy felt bad. And weirdly enough, he didn't want to stop taking you out. "Charles, do you like her or not? Is she worth this whole thing?"
"I mean, I thought so but-"
"But nothing, yes or no?"
"Yeah, yeah she is."
"Then no, this isn't over till you get the girl, and I know you can dude," Percy patted Charles shoulders and walked off to find you. He saw you across the room taking another shot, but when he went to speed walk over to you he was stopped yet again. This time, by Luke.
"God, I knew you were the right person to turn to."
"Huh," Percy turned confused, and was starting to get annoyed.
"You did the impossible, removing the stick from Y/N's ass," Luke cheered.
"Yeah whatever," Percy rolled his eyes, getting more bothered with the way people spoke about you. And before he got the chance to push Luke away and make his way back over to you, the music started blaring and cheering started getting louder, including Luke's cheering. Percy was now purely annoyed, he just wanted to make his way back over to you, hopefully stopping you from taking anymore shots.
He walked toward the center of the cheering to see you hopping on a table and dancing to the beat of the roaring music. Your body was swaying and Percy right then and there forgot that he was paid to take you here. He forgot that if it wasn't for some random guy coming up to him wanting to date your sister, he wouldn't be standing here watching you dance like there was no one in the room, like it was just you and him right now.
He wondered where'd he be right now if he had said no. Would he be home, or would he maybe have found another girl in this short time period? Probably not, but anything could happened in such a short time frame, like this. Percy thought there was something about a girl who can so brazenly insult you like it was nothing, yet still bandaged you up if you were hurt. He was quickly snapped from his daydream when you slipped from the table and fell into his arms.
"Oh, its you," you blew raspberries in his face as you went to stand up. "I'll be fine."
As you went to stand, you started stumbling back down, making Percy grab you again. "Yup, your very fine."
"Stop flirting with me Jackson," you rolled your eyes and he just laughed. He started leading you out the house, away from all the noise, and all the alcohol, so you could rest up. You've had one too many drinks and it was now time to stop. "I wanna sleep."
You two were outside, and you had wandered off and found a nearby bench to lay down on. "You shouldn't walk off like this, might get kidnapped y'know."
"Oh and you'd care? I'm only ever mean to you if you hadn't noticed."
"Well of course, you know I think I might have a thing for girls who hate me."
"As opposed to what, the girls who like you? Because I've yet to see those," Percy grabbed your arms and stood you up. He rummaged through his pockets for your keys. Percy was thankful that your dress didn't have pockets and wouldn't have to wrestle you for said keys.
"See, just like that, why have compliments when I could get insulted like there's no tomorrow" he said as he opened the door for you. He walked over to the drivers seat and when he sat down you gave him a weird look. "Yes?"
"Can you even drive?"
"Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I don't have a license," you were still staring straight at him, looking between both his eyes.
"Your eyes are really sea-green, I really like sea-green," you smiled and Percy felt speechless. He smiled softly.
"Lets get you home."
﹒º. ౨ৎ
Silena was absolutely bored out of her mind. For the past who knows who long she's been forced to taking pictures of Luke for his instagram. His excuse? 'your gorgeous hands take gorgeous pictures.'
If he called her 'gorgeous' one more time there, Silena might've shown up. She handed him back the phone as he continued to talk about himself, again. That seems to be all he ever does. 'What the hell did I ever see in him,' Silena thought.
After like 15 minutes, the party was getting stale and people were starting to leave. The two walked out together when Silena was approached by a good friend of hers, Drew.
"So Silena, ready to hit the next party," Luke asked.
"Darn," she looked down at her phone. "Gotta be home in 20 minutes."
She pretended to look disappointed when Drew quickly spoke up, "I don't have to be home till like, 2-3AM."
She boasted as Silena looked her up and down. "That settles it. Silena, this is your last shot. You coming or not?"
"Nope, I can't. Sorry," she shrugged as they quickly sped off into Luke's convertible. Silena rolled her eyes she realized she now didn't have a ride home. Looking around, the only person she saw was Charles. Despite feeling awkward for having somewhat blown him off earlier, she still approached him.
"Hey there Charles," Silena waved. He half-heartedly smiled back. "Can you, um- give me a ride home?"
Charles felt his heart slightly speed up, but still felt slightly dejected. Silena had sent the whole night with Luke, why would she not just leave with him? "Yeah, of course."
They both drove home in silence. It felt kind of awkward, then Charles had pulled up in front of the Beauregard house and parked. The two sat in silence not moving, but when Silena turned over, Charles seemed to have a face on. "Charles, is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong?"
"Well yeah-"
"No nothing. There's nothing wrong. I mean sure yeah I went through the trouble to get your sister asked out so you'd finally be able to date. But of course I did it for Luke. I did it for Luke but I literally learned how to speak French for you-"
Charles was quickly cut off by Silena leaving over and grabbing Charles face into a kiss that could've melted him on the spot. They went on for a moment before Silena went back into her seat. The two were panting before Silena spoke up.
"A whole language, just for me," she giggled, and Charles felt slightly embarrassed for having admitted to that. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
He nodded as he watched Silena step out of the car, waving to him as she walked off to the front door. Charles started cheering in his car before driving off back to his own home.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
It was the next Beauregard's turn to be dropped off by a man tonight.
As Percy parked your car in its normal spot in the drive way, he turned to look at you. "You still wasted or are you sobering up now?"
"I'm as sober as a judge," you declared, waving your finger in the air. You turned toward him and stared at him, reaching over and twirling a piece of his black hair between your fingers. "Your hairs soft."
You were close now. Close enough for him to smell the vodka expelling from your breathe. You looked into his eyes, and leaned slightly in. Percy thought about leaning in, but the shots on shots you took tonight made it not such a good idea.
When you noticed he didn't lean in, you felt a mix between mad and embarrassed. You quickly grabbed your keys and slammed the car door shut on your way out, running up to your house door and rushing in as fast as you could. Percy sighed as he sat back, feeling like an idiot.
One sister had a happy ending with the boy she didn't expect, and the other couldn't even get a kiss goodnight from a guy who was paid to be here (more and more everyday, he cared less and less about the money).
﹒º. ౨ৎ
✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 (just lemme know if you wanna be added)
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rowretro · 3 months
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𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
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request by @nikipedia07 <3 I think I may hav gone a lil off track w this one but hope u love it sweetie
✧warnings: violent descriptions, yandere/toxic themes
✧synopsis: Jay is a fairly well known mafia boss around Korea. However, there is a small area where he's never been seen. An area where his enemy is hiding in, and were his beloved lives. When he first set his eyes on y/n, he didn't think about anything else but making her his, and so he decided to even put through the worst, just to make her love him the way he loves her.
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It all started when he was on a mission. Of course she didn't see him but he saw her. how she hugged some kids, shielding them from the suited men gunning down some other tatted men. God he loved the look of fear in her eyes, and how adorable she was shielding the small kids. Jay nodded at the men, and they walked off, not even bothering to glance in y/n's direction. Since the day he set eyes on the angel princess, he knew she was meant to be his,
That's how Jay found himself in high school, in uniform, despite being in his twenties. He threatened the head to make sure he was in every single one of y/n's class. which meant dealing with some crazy students. "Oh my god bitch could you like shut da fuck up?" Lia said glaring at Sungchan who was just eating his Cheetos "you talking to me?" Sungchan asked as the girl rolled eyes.
"Nah bitch I was talking to the girl stroking the wall- YES YOU YOU WANKER!" Lia yelled as Y/n turned around frowning "Is this a classroom or your bedroom?! Lia language. Sungchan, put those snacks away and focus." Y/n warned as she took more notes "Damn lady you gotta chill-" Sungchan mumbled as he put his Cheetos away.
Jay glanced at Sungchan, not liking his bullshit one bit. However he bit his tongue, he didn't snap at the male and instead, stared at y/n. God when he saw his darling focus solely on teaching the students, being so patient and sweet no matter how bitchy they were, he feels so calm.
"Kay class... I'll see you after break-" y/n said with a smile as she left the room. "She has got to be one of the hottest teachers in the school" Jinyoung said as he turned to the group of boys "She's like 2 or 3 years older than us- how is she teaching?" Lia asked as the boys shrug "I mean I don't care, at least I get a nice view everytime she walks in-" Yuta says with a smirk, stretching his arms out.
Jay groaned as he stayed put in his seat. sleeping on his desk, trying to remain calm. Only 3 more minutes of this. Then his darling will come back. "Ok break ended 5 minutes ago. phones away, everyone back in your seats please," Y/n called out as the students rolled their eyes, getting back into their seat.
As y/n continued to teach, she noticed that the class weren't even trying to pay attention, all of them messing about, sleeping around, eating snacks. It was as if she wasn't even there. They didn't hear her, they didn't bother listening to her, it was like she was talking to a brick wall. Except one student, who was actively listening and taking notes. Jay.
However, the noise only got worse all of a sudden. Not the students being even more annoying, but instead they were screaming. Many ducked down and hid under their tables. "Ah fuck you have got to be fucking kidding me." Jay mumbled, getting up as he pulled a gun out, shooting the 4 enemies that had broken in to kill him. His uniform was now stained with blood as his men walked in.
"Clean the bodies I'm done with this act." Jay said as he walked up to y/n pulling her up, his arm around her waist, as her body hit his, his eyes met her panicked pair. "So fucking beautiful... and all mine. You think I sat in school again for fun? I graduated I don't even have to be here." Jay said as he carried her, out of the classroom, ignoring her kicks and screams. "OH MY GOD HE'S PARK FUCKIN JONGSEONG-" Lia screamed as she showed the search results on her phone.
"why did you even come then?..." y/n mumbled to herself, unaware that Jay heard "I needed to get close to my princess before I take her to my palace... see y/n from now you will be living the life you deserve, a husband with expensive black suits who can give you many black cards... sweetheart you need a sweetheart. Me." Jay simply said as the girl frowned.
(OK SO IM NOT HAPPY WITH THIS, I THINK I WENT OFF TRACK BUT I'LL DO A PART 2 FOR THIS IF UW)
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brainwormcity · 5 months
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The Boundless Echoes of Liminal Skies
AO3
Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley
Summary:
Aziraphale bears witness to the Fall of the Starmaker and finds himself helpless to look away from his transformation. Forever changed, the two weave a complex, millennia-spanning web of moral ambiguity, mutually repressed longing, and combating powerlessness in the face of human tragedy.
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It was the day of their judgment and God was nowhere to be seen. As of late that had become an increasing normality but Aziraphale was surprised nonetheless. The circumstances were anything but ordinary. After all, Lucifer, God's most beloved prince, was to be cast out of heaven at any moment.
He and the others watched from the wings as the legion of rebellious angels knelt upon the sterile white floor under the Metatron's scorching gaze, Lucifer at the forefront. His eyes scanned over those before him with incredibly deep anguish at the angels (now devils) with whom he would never have the opportunity to form friendships. He couldn't understand why anyone would turn away from good so vehemently that they would literally fracture the unity of Heaven.
Still, he forced himself to pay careful attention to the faces before him as the Metatron passed down his judgment, listing a scroll's-worth of crimes that had, so far, taken nearly a day to read over. There was no protest. There was no defense. There are some things even Heaven could not forgive. Or wouldn’t.
Aziraphale’s eyes fell upon a burst of bright red hair, the likes of which he'd only ever seen once before. The Starmaker; he had never asked his name and now he never would. He remembered though, standing beside him watching nebulas and stars erupt before them, whose lights and radiance humans’ far-off invented fireworks could never begin to compare. He had been inextricably moved by the event and then he’d never seen him again. Until this moment.
Aziraphale had found the Starmaker quite odd. He had, of course, said things aloud that terrified Aziraphale even just to think… Even though in his deepest heart of hearts, he agreed. It was an absolute terrible waste to obliterate such uncompromised beauty. Despite the tremendous fear he’d felt from his questions, Aziraphale had found him beautiful. He'd never admit it but even with the birth of the stars erupting before his eyes, he had struggled to look away from the angel whose warm, brown eyes flashed with the crackle of galaxies forming light-years away. Aziraphale's chest was tight as he watched the Fallen angel glare despondently at the bleached white floor under his knees, his robes frayed and torn from the guardians’ vicious corralling.
It had seemed like ages ago. However, when you were of the celestial body, time flowed differently. It could have been just a day for all one could tell. The vibrant smile that had graced the Starmaker’s face then was nowhere to be found as his judgment was handed down. Aziraphale couldn't recall seeing the traitorous angel on the battlefield. He may have just been lost in the distance, obscured by the glare of his flaming sword but if he had really not been there... Well, that would mean that he'd neither hurt Heaven nor helped the Fallen angels. Aziraphale wasn't sure what that would mean.
He thought of the questions the angel asked that had mirrored those he, himself, had carried in his mind, with more than a little shame. Was voicing those questions really all it took for one to be evil? When he had warned the red-haired angel of the trouble of his vocal criticisms of the Great Plan, he had never imagined this would be his punishment.
The angel suppressed a shudder and a ruffle of his wings. He vowed to himself, in that moment, to never put himself in that kind of position. He wasn't entirely sure what their punishment would look like but disconnection from the Heavenly host seemed terribly frightening, in and of itself. However, he couldn’t hold back the tendril of pity that floated to the forefront of his mind, despite knowing that this devil was his mortal enemy from that day forth.
As if on cue, the Metatron, looking down his nose at them, announced in a thunderous voice, "With these charges in mind, under the holy authority of the Lord, I condemn each of you to the fiery sulfur pits, wherein you shall have your celestial form stripped apart and mutated by the primordial ooze to reflect the foul monstrosity that lurks behind the eyes of your corporeal bodies." Aziraphale knew that by monstrosity the Metatron referred to their curiosity and rebellion. To morph their angelic bodies though? To take what their Creator made and mar it seemed a blasphemy in and of itself. Of course, Aziraphale did not dare not object. His eyes fell, again, upon the Starmaker with his red hair and brown eyes, and couldn't imagine him as a grotesquery now or otherwise.
As the trumpets sounded, the floor began to shake violently beneath them. Before anyone could cry out, the ground fell abruptly away, spilling the traitors straight into a freefall. There was a chorus of gasps all around him as Aziraphale watched them begin to plummet into the atmosphere. The victorious host cheered and laughed and funneled out through the opening in the floor to watch the condemned take their punishment.
Aziraphale, caught in a swell of excited angels, was forced similarly through the opening and quickly fanned out his wings, following the spiral of celestial beings swarming around a light-speed drop of what were, from this day forth, known as demons. A funnel cloud of sorts formed around them, echoing the bitter laughter of the angels.
He watched as the demons attempted, in vain, to spread their wings and alter their courses. Purple auras bound their wings to their backs as they tumbled helplessly, head-over-foot, towards the rapidly approaching surface of the earth. He knew that all other eyes were on Lucifer, now to be known as Satan but, nevertheless, he watched the Starmaker flail in desperation with, what Aziraphale knew he must be mistaken for, tears in his eyes.
The wailing screams of demons tore at Aziraphale’s heartstrings as he watched the devils hopelessly tumble through the atmosphere, the ozone screeching with resistance as they entered. The angels simply passed through the atmosphere miraculously to continue to jeer and taunt the losers of The Great War. To Aziraphale, it felt so very wrong. So… unangelic.
The sea below sparkled like rough-cut sapphires, waiting to dice the flesh of the demons.
'The Starmaker! Oh, the poor Starmaker,’ Aziraphale thought as he watched the Fallen angel hit the surface of the water with a bone-crushing splat. They would not die but he knew that the pain must have been immeasurable. The demons smashed into the choppy waters like screaming meteorites, the surface boiling with the heat of their atmospheric entry.
By now, many of the angels who had followed to watch had stopped short, likely with boredom. Aziraphale was again struck by the callous nature the Fall had revealed in the Heavenly host as well as the demons. The scent of their blood left its tang in the water as it ripped at their skin. Some part of him, for whatever reason, felt he owed it to his enemies to witness their unbecoming. He gasped an unnecessary breath and miracled himself a gentle entry into the foamy waves.
Aziraphale had thought that the gelatinous resistance of the water would slow the descent of the Fallen but, alas, its depths seemed to grab them and pull them into the darkness, illuminated only by the purple aura forcibly wrapped around their wings. The angel found the Starmaker again amongst the darkness, fighting the urge to reach out as the red-haired demon clawed uselessly at his own throat trying to force air into his lungs. Their miracles had been blocked and their powers were revoked, at least as long as Heaven was still in charge of their fate. They wouldn’t always be but right now, the demons were powerless. Bubbles poured forcibly from the mouth and nose of the Starmaker as he was dragged into inky blackness.
Pressure built around Aziraphale’s ears as he followed the traitors to depths that would flatten the humans that the demons had used as an excuse to rebel against the Lord. A great rift erupted in the earth, giving way to tremendous force and heat. Aziraphale faintly remembered that the architects of Earth had referred to, what this great crevasse was to become, as the Mariana Trench. He hadn’t thought it possible but the sea grew impossibly darker. Only through his miraculous powers could Aziraphale continue to watch the excruciating Fall.
The waters grew hotter and hotter still as the minutes passed, wordless screams burbling from the mouths of the demons whose descent finally gave signs of slowing. Aziraphale alighted on a nearby cliff face, his face awash with horror. At last, a molten light emerged in the distance. A vent of flaming, boiling liquid stirred at the floor of the sea, rising and falling impossibly as though it were a living being. Boiling tentacles of violently glowing magma began to ascend.
It was to his silent terror that he watched a flaming tendril wrap around the Starmaker’s bare ankle with a sizzle, yanking him down relentlessly. His hands groped uselessly above him as his once finely-kempt hair fanned around his head, its red paling, even in near-pitch darkness, only in comparison to the molten sulfuric being he was being pulled away by.
It was only as the Starmaker disappeared into the magma, with a horrible sucking sound, that Aziraphale allowed himself to look away. His eyes burned with the salt of the ocean and unshed tears. It all felt so wrong. In all of his existence, he’d never witnessed something that had been so very gruesome, even in the heat of battle. It shook him so deeply to his core. They were their enemies, yes but were they not, also, living creatures? Had they truly not been worthy of mercy?
He knew he should go. He was now the only angel beneath the waves and the task had been done. He had fulfilled his moral obligation. The Fall was complete. Still, Aziraphale found himself latching onto the ledge staring into the bubbling ooze, his cheeks stinging from the burning vents below. The darkness was frighteningly silent for quite a long time. Regardless, the angel found himself frozen where he lay against the cliff face, hot, sharp rocks digging into his front.
Suddenly a sound akin to cannon fire filled the trench. First, one enormous fireball launched through the darkness disappearing into the distance. Aziraphale knew by the energy level alone that it had been Satan. All at once, a cacophony of thump thump thump erupted, like so many bottle rockets launched into separate directions. Into the black of the ocean. Before he understood it, his senses had latched upon a particular aura. It was mangled and twisted but still terribly familiar. He couldn’t stop himself from launching after a glowing, writhing mass of flesh through the dark water.
He was operating on instinct and ethereal senses alone. The saltwater burned his eyes and pulled his typically coiffed curls flat against his scalp as he ripped through the water after the being. He only barely managed to keep up with the impossible speed at which the demon had been cast out. He could not make out the exact shape of what he was following. Between the darkness and the speed, all Aziraphale could see was a rapidly warping black mass.
The aura was then abruptly ascending in the water. Light began to pool on the surface and before long, the demon shot out of the water, leaving tidal waves in his wake. Still, Aziraphale was helpless to stop himself from following at a speed that humans would likely always struggle to imagine, let alone achieve. The being seemed to be locked in a catapulting motion, circling the earth over and over in a way that might have made Aziraphale dizzy, were it not for his being ethereal.
The air screamed at the speed. He surmised that it had likely been a few hours since the Fallen had been expelled. He could see the creature splitting and writhing and bubbling with it’s continued mutation. Aziraphale knew very well that he had no reason to be here.
He could feel the strain on both his corporeal form and his miraculous energy yet all he could think was, ‘You poor, foolish Starmaker! I’m so sorry!’ Then the creature was rocketing toward the Earth, no longer gathering speed but moving quickly enough that Aziraphale knew it would likely leave a crater in the face of the planet.
Lush rainforest came hauling into view and Aziraphale tucked his wings back and dove ever after the demon. He could feel the slash of branches cutting against his face but as if possessed, he was being pulled by the dark energy before him. His heart was absolutely thunderous against his sternum.
A deep, brown lake rose into view and Aziraphale stopped short with a gasp as the creature, yet again, smashed through the surface of the water. Then everything grew quiet, save for the croaks of primitive insects and amphibians in the distance, Steam rose from the surface of the lake which was now significantly more shallow than it had been just moments before. The air had become moist and sticky. It clung to his skin and robe as he moved to perch on the top of a tree, on a long branch. There, he watched. Waited. He began to pray. It felt antithetical to everything he'd been told but he began to pray under his breath for him. With his eyes squeezed shut, he prayed for the demon who used to be the Starmaker.
He began to lose heart with each moment with no signs of life from below the muddied waters which remained steaming, despite its stillness. Aziraphale feared that maybe he had been destroyed after all. The deep hurt he felt at that moment was incomparable to anything he'd known before as he stretched his wings in preparation to take flight. They ached dreadfully against his back and the feathers felt stiff and smelled strongly of salt. He chided himself for the bitter taste of his own vanity in the face of the atrocities he had just witnessed, as he ran his fingers over a white primary feather. It was as he stepped toward the tip of the branch that he heard it.
Something broke the surface of the water with a violent gasp and Aziraphale quickly retreated to the cover of leaves he’d previously been hidden within. He stared into the dark water trying to make here or there of the shadows cast across the water from the dense foliage overhanging the water. He stifled a gasp as his eyes fell upon something or someone moving through the water with a ripple. Aziraphale’s curiosity felt to him like a cruelty to bestow upon the creature below.
He could hear harsh breaths ripping through the forest floor below. Aziraphale’s hackles rose at what the Starmaker had become. He felt a flash of terror at that moment. He couldn’t think of another time in his life he had felt such palpable fear… Had it been his? It felt alien in his chest but he knew that that was impossible. Right?
The water sloshed riotously for a moment and then slowly, ever so slowly, something emerged onto the shore of the lake. Aziraphale had never seen anything like it before. What lay upon the ground below him was a massive serpent. It’s scales were a vibrantly shining, inky blackness, reflecting the dimming sunlight with a blazing orange sheen. It was as if it- No, he was radiating a fiery glow beneath his flesh.
Without warning, the serpent curled upon himself, writhing in the mud. His body twisted at impossible angles, serpent or not. One moment, he appeared to Aziraphale as an absence of light. A black hole. The next he seemed to fold in and out of dimensions that the eyes that the Lord had bestowed upon Aziraphale couldn’t quite seem to comprehend. He had thought that the transformation had been completed. He had watched it happen for hours.
He was struck with a sudden realization. This creature was no longer helpless at that moment. He was willfully reshaping his own existence. He was rejecting the mutated form forced upon him by the primordial ooze and like he had that day with Aziraphale beside him, was forcing something entirely new into existence. Aziraphale tensed with anticipation.
It was with a shock of lightning and boom of thunder that everything ceased. The rainforest was deadly silent, though out of fear or reverence, Aziraphale could not say. The air was tense with static and ozone and the angel was all too aware of the thrumming of his heart against his chest.
A plume of black smoke billowed up from the forest floor, and from behind its curtain emerged a figure. The being before him stood bare at the water’s edge. Waves of hair cascaded down the demon’s back in loose ringlets, an impossible searing red-orange. The strands bifurcated at his shoulders revealing jet-black wings, intimidating in their span and iridescence.
He seemed to tremble on his feet and for a moment, Aziraphale thought he might tumble to the ground. The demon instinctively spread his wings to balance and right himself. He appeared startled by the sight of his own marred feathers and in a manner that was just nearly, but not quite, amusing, he turned about in a circle, trying to glimpse his new wings in their entirety.
He eventually settled for gripping a feather, at one wingtip, between two fingers before letting it drop. He had abruptly become absorbed by his own fingers. They were as slender and lithe as Aziraphale remembered but now they were tipped with deadly sharp, black claws. He watched the demon access his work. He seemed to count each finger and toe and test each joint to ensure they moved properly in the way that his previous corporeal body’s had.
Aziraphale felt ashamed. He understood that what he was witnessing was something terribly intimate. He was an interloper upon this damned creature but he could not… Refused to look away. Underneath the shame rang out a feeling of deep purpose for which the angel had no name. Against all logic, there was a certainty that he had to be here.
Finally, the demon moved his clawed fingers from the hollow of his own chest slowly up his own throat. Aziraphale could feel his hesitation. The demon probed gently at his own face, as though accounting for each contour of his cheek and the jut of his chin. Aziraphale had yet to see the demon’s face clearly because of his halo of red hair. Its shade was somehow even more striking than it had been that day before the Beginning.
The demon seemed to huff a laugh. Perhaps, the angel pondered, pleased with his work? It was then the demon knelt before the water and stared into the reflection upon the surface. Upon taking in his own countenance, though, a wave of sorrow so strong slammed into Aziraphale that it wrenched a gasp from his chest. He struggled to stay upright as the sensation battered his body.
Anguished wails rang out from below. Aziraphale pressed back against the energy to look upon him again. The creature held himself, knees against his chest, and sobbed the most painful cries Aziraphale had ever heard. He shook violently as he cried and yet more waves of desperate sadness poured from him.
Aziraphale could not understand. Just a moment ago, the demon had seemed so pleased with himself. What could have shaken him so deeply? Reality blurred around its edges as the being wept. He couldn’t stop himself.
Aziraphale began to part the leaves, everything in him crying out that he must go to him. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Though, as he reached the tip of the branch, his wings poised to dive, an echo of The Metatron’s words boomed in his head. He remembered the promise he had made to himself hours before to never allow himself to put himself in this very position. This was dangerous.
He began to step back, and as he did his wings shuffled the moist leaves around him. He froze stock still. The demon below stood suddenly. He was looking away from Aziraphale's direction and all he could see was the demon’s profile. His heart seized in his chest and his hands uselessly gripped at the air before him.
The demon screamed out in a voice wrecked from his sobs, “Who’s there?!”
Aziraphale shivered. He sounded just like he had that moment when they stood side by side, the Starmaker’s wing held above him, shielding him from the stray sparks of stardust. He hadn’t expected that. The demon spun where he stood.
“Have you come to laugh at the abomination?!”
Aziraphale knew that he couldn’t but he wanted so desperately to soothe the demon and assure him that he found no humor in his tragic circumstances. Alas, he stood with his back against the trunk of the young tree.
“Come out, you coward!”
He flailed violently in circles again before falling to his knees, at last, facing the angel’s direction.
He screamed again, with his eyes squeezed shut, “Come out!”
Finally, the demon turned his face to the trees and opened his eyes, searching the leaves. The first thing Aziraphale saw was the black scar at his temple in the shape of a twisted snake. His eyes, though. A gasp wrenched from the angel’s chest. Where his eyes were once a warm brown, they were now two orbs of piercing, molten yellow. The eyes of a serpent.
Aziraphale now understood; he couldn’t get rid of them. No matter how the demon changed his form, he would always have them. The visage that God had bestowed upon him would be forever marred with the constant reminder of his Fall from grace. A haunting sorrow filled Aziraphale, this time all his own. Tragic.
The demon was still so strikingly beautiful. All sharp angles and light, just like he had been then with the lights of stars bursting in his eyes. His cheeks were now speckled with freckles, like stars upon the expanse of space he had once painted upon. One last remnant of who he had been. The face was twisted with visceral pain.
“Where are you?” the demon screamed again, “Come out!”
Aziraphale’s body seemed to move forward of its own accord at the sight of the demon's heart-rending expression. He steeled himself against it, forcing himself back. He desperately fanned his wings, sound be damned. If he didn’t leave now, he knew that he never would.
He burned as he took in the tears pouring from those golden-yellow eyes.
Then softly, “Please.”
Aziraphale stepped from the branch forcing himself to turn away and began to fly in the opposite direction.
“Please!” the demon cried out once more, his voice hoarse and strained, before dropping to nearly a whisper, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone…”
Still, Aziraphale flapped his wings, carrying himself away from the sound of the demon’s cries and the still-assaulting waves of emotional energy. It was only as he broke the tree line of the rainforest, ascending to make his way back to Heaven, that he realized his own cheeks were wet with tears he hadn’t realized had been shed.
He was going home. He fought back a sob of his own. The Starmaker was all alone and always would be. He would never again feel the light of their home. Where would he go? Aziraphale felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
He would never, ever have the chance to comprehend what had drawn him to the Starmaker from the moment he’d laid eyes upon him. They were never to meet again amongst the stars. He thought maybe he was imagining it, but he could have sworn, in that moment, that he could still hear the demon's lamentations. He couldn't afford to let himself think about it further. He banished it from his head with a soft whisper.
'Goodbye, Starmaker.'
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Text
Taking A Chance
Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~1.2k
Warnings: fluff
Summary: You go and get a tattoo done by the grumpiest of tattoo artists.
Squares Filled: tattoo shop au (2021) for @lokibingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
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Why am I being such a pussy? Just go in and ask for it. I’ve wanted this for a year. God, if my mother could see me now, she’d be disappointed.
You look up at the tattoo shop’s sign and see the last letter flickering on and off. You have the money. You can get this tattoo done. All you have to do is go in and ask for it. This is the second time you’ve been outside this tattoo shop because you couldn’t go in the first time. It’s not a fear of pain; you can handle pain pretty well. It’s the fear of something being permanent on your body.
You won’t be able to take this off. Anyone who says lasering it off works is wrong. There will always be a scar to remind you of the mistake you made. Stop being such a baby. This is for Mom. This place has been highly rated as one of the best tattoo shops in your town. If you’re going to get a tattoo, may as well go to the best. 
You push the door open and walk inside only to be greeted with a hint of smoke and a lot of Axe body spray. Four very attractive men stand behind the counter just chatting amongst themselves. You’ve seen them in town before. They often frequent the local bar so you know exactly who they are.
Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Erik Killmonger (pretty sure that’s not his legal last name), and Clint Barton. As soon as they hear the small bell above the door go off, they stop talking and look at you.
“Can I help you?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, I’d like to get a tattoo today, if possible.”
“Did you have anything in mind?”
You hand Steve the paper you’ve been saving since your mom died. She drew a delicate vine of her favorite flowers, orchids. She was always a good artist so she drew this as a reminder of her before she died. It’s very precise and delicate line work, and the only person who can do this kind of style is Loki Laufeyson.
“The only person who can do this kind of work is Loki. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” Speaking of, Loki walks out with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a lighter in his hand. “Loki, care to help this pretty lady out?”
He shows Loki the picture but the artist barely gives it to two seconds of his attention.
“No. I’m going for a smoke.”
He has a thick British accent that’s hard not to blush at.
“Sorry, kid,” Steve says and hands back the picture to you.
“No, it’s okay,” you glare at Loki who has yet to leave the room. “I get it. His lungs are as bad as his tattoo skills.”
All four men snicker from your jab while Loki finally locks eyes with you. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, pockets it and the lighter, and opens the back door with a slight smirk.
“Fine. Right this way, Darling.” He takes you to his section of the shop which is pristine and very clean. He douses a few squirts of hand sanitizer on his hands before getting out the necessary equipment. “Where do you want it?”
“My ribs.”
“Is this your first?”
“Yes.”
“You want your first tattoo to be on your ribs? That’s gonna hurt.”
“I can take pain,” you glare.
His mouth twitches as he looks you up and down. After a beat, he nods and sits down on his wheelie chair.
“Shirt off,” he demands.
You do but keep your bra on. You made sure to wear something loose like a bralette that still keeps everything covered but won't be a hindrance to the place where you want the tattoo. You get onto the table and lay on your back, putting the side you want it on closer to Loki.
Loki gets set up and prints a stencil of the drawing you have. After putting it in the place you want it and confirming you like it there, he starts the tattooing process. The pain is sharp like a thousand needles being placed into your body at once, but it’s a dull pain compared to some of the other things you had to endure in life.
Loki has his left gloved hand on your body to keep you still while his right moves the needles right where he wants it. You don’t know where else to stare but at him, observing the way his eyes rake over your body to his hands which are delicate against your skin.
You had a full meal before you got here but this is making your head spin. It’s not because of the needles, it’s Loki. You’ve never met anyone like him. You basically insulted him to get what you want. Loki doesn’t have many clients because they always say the same thing: he’s rude, arrogant, and only accepts what he wants to do, not the other way around.
However, when you challenged him earlier, he knew you were someone he wanted to tattoo. Not only that, but he wants to get to know you. He's not a big talker so he doesn’t know what to say to you, and you’re not going to pry into his personal life like that. You squirm a bit from the pain, and he places his large hand over your stomach to keep you from moving.
“Be a good girl and stop moving unless you want me to fuck up,” he says and looks at you.
You quickly look away in hopes he didn’t see you checking him out, and you nod.
“Sorry.”
You peek at him to see a smirk on his face indicating that he did, in fact, catch you. You don’t want any color so the process doesn’t take long. He’s done with the tattoo in less than three hours since it’s only line work, and he rubs off the excess moisture so he can apply a patch of SecondSkin. Before he does it, you admire his work in the mirror.
See that, Mom? I’ll always have a piece of you with me wherever I go. I miss you. I love you.
“How do you like it?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” he scoffs.
“Better than your lungs, I assume,” you smirk.
There you go again, making him want you more. He chuckles as he grabs the SecondSkin and cuts a piece off. He applies it directly over your tattoo and smooths it out.
“Come back in tomorrow where I’ll clean it and replace it with another patch of SecondSkin. Then, come back in a week and I’ll remove it for good. It should be healed then.”
“Okay,” you whisper and put your shirt back on.
“If you ever want more, call me,” he smirks.
He hands you his business card with his personal phone number on it.
“If you’re lucky,” you smirk and leave his office to pay in the front with Steve.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time,” Bucky says from the doorway.
“Shut up,” Loki grumbles but smiles when he hears your laughter come from the front of the shop.
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bones4thecats · 5 months
Note
I see you have your requests open! :D
May I please request Loki, Shiva, Thor and Beelzebub from SNV with a S/O who's like Hastur/The King In Yellow from Lovecraftian mythos?
(They walk around in a tattered yellow cloak and a crown, maybe have more than 2 eyes?) Humans are terrified of them and are even scared to mention their name. How would they react to seeing their S/o in their cosmic horror/non-humanoid for for the first time?
(Sorry if it's a little long... Have a great day! 🥰)
A/N: This has to be one of my favorite requests ever! I love H.P. Lovecraft and other mythical writers, and Hastur has to be one of my favorite creations in these stories! Now, before I start rambling again, enjoy!!
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Known as the God of Shepherds, you were feared by many, so feared that the mention of your name scared others to their core. 
You were set in a battle against a human known as William Marshal, the Most Loyal Knight in History. 
Your yellow cloak hung to your form as the man pulled out his sword and began his attack while Humanity and the Gods’ roars echoed throughout the arena.
The Gods had put up a barrier protecting the people inside, knowing if you got too mad, the ring would get destroyed very quickly. 
William was getting on your nerves as he sliced off six of your tentacles.
Ragged breathing filled the ears of everyone in the arena as you grew in size, your frame becoming unrecognizable as you began to fight with all the being you contained.
Everyone was shocked, but your husband was the most shocked…
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🐍 Loki watched as you grew in size and his eyes widened, you had never gotten this mad while in battle
🐍 He yelled in anger as one of William’s sword’s hit your appendages, cheering as your threw him to the opposite side of the arena
🐍 The sound of colliding weapons echoed as the Valkyrie transformed into a sword and shield, protecting the former knight
🐍 But it was no match for your strength
“ You humans are pathetic, when you want something you get arrogant and expect more, yet when you don’t get it, you get mad and petty like nothing. “ “ You know nothing of Humanity… monster. “ “ Good riddance, worm. “
🐍 Loki was so proud as you slayed the human for his disrespect of his creators
🐍 Now he had to wait for his round and you to join him, or maybe he’d visit you? Who know~
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🪩 Shiva watched with his wives, son, and pantheon as you grew in size and became your true form
🪩 He smirked as William’s valkyrie stepped back and became a sword and shield
“ Idiot humans. They think they can defeat Y/N. “
🪩 You glared at the human as he fought you, trying to hit you with any chance he could take, honestly it was quite pathetic
🪩 Though even Shiva had to admit, the human was quite smart with his hits
🪩 But his brain was no match for your anger
🪩 You grabbed him with a rogue tentacle and threw him against the wall before chocking out his valkyrie and snapping his neck
🪩 Shiva laughed as Humanity cried, they really believed that human had a chance against you? The Hindu God of Shepherds? The one everyone feared so much as to not mumble their name?
🪩 After you were dragged to the infirmary, he visited with his wives and son
🪩 They checked your pale face and dark eyes and scolded you for letting your emotions get out of hand, in which Ganesha hugged you, asking how you were
🪩 Shiva just stood off to the side and waited for them all to leave, and when they did, he gave you the biggest hug and happiest smile you’d ever seen him give anyone
“ Good job, my dearest. “
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🌩️ You and him were not ones to anger, as it lead to major destruction
🌩️ And anyone could tell this was one of the rare moments of your anger taking over
🌩️ Thor stood up and watched as the human’s valkyrie protected him, giving the most bloodthirsty smirk as the duo talked about how they would destroy you
🌩️ How pathetically arrogant
🌩️ You mopped the floor with them with so little energy
“ Remind me to never prank them anytime soon. “
🌩️ Odin looked at Loki and back at Thor, he could tell his son was admiring his S/O’s battle with so much love and dedication
🌩️ Now everyone knew why you guys got married
🌩️ You had the same amount of bloodthirstiness inside, hidden behind a dead and cold appearing front
🌩️ Once the battle ended, Thor met you at the entrance, assisting you to the infirmary, and when you were all healed, he hugged you from behind while resting
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🪰 Beelzebub was getting bored of watching these battles, but seeing you walk onto the field made him perk up
🪰 He knew you were getting mad with the human’s attacks with the support of his valkyrie, but he didn’t know you were that mad
🪰 You stood tall and launched the biggest and most dangerous assault that you ever had before
🪰 Your husband watched with interest as you kept throwing and harming the human with bloodlust driving through your head
🪰 He was monitoring how plagued your mind was getting, and when he saw the human nearly dead, he messaged Zeus, telling him to wrap this up, saying you were about to the level of genocidal rage
🪰 Beelzebub watched you get dragged away while William shattered away, his smirk ever present as he looked over your sitting form
🪰 Your pale face still had some blood from the human, so he wiped it away and patted your head
“ My wilted rose, my heart fluttered as you fought. “
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lostmyremembrall · 7 months
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📖
love the way you write the prompts <3 may i request prompt 18 ??
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📖𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐭
𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝐺𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝐴𝑠𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐽𝑜��𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 1𝐾 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡! Now closed
A/N: Oh my god. I am SO sorry it took this long to get to yours. Please forgive me, and I hope you'll still enjoy this.
You surprise Tom with a cat
Tom’s eyes widened at the sight that awaited him. Four tiny paws. A ball of brown fur. Large two ears. The tiny creature stared up at him, and bared its teeth as it meowed. Tom couldn’t help but jerk his head backwards 
“There he is!”
The enthusiastic voice of Abraxas greeted him when the resident Dark Lord peeked his head in through the doors of the Room of Requirement. His cautious eyes flickered around the room, reminiscent of an uneasy salamander that dared to poke its head out from underneath a rock to survey his surroundings.
“Let’s get this over with,” Tom sighed as he walked towards them, completely ignoring the birthday decorations that you, Abraxas, and Canopus had spent hours putting up.
“Of course. We won’t dare take up your valuable time any more than necessary,” Canopus responded somewhat sarcastically, approaching Tom and reaching up to put the cone hat that read ‘Birthday Boy’ on top of the disgruntled man’s head, knowing full well that he detested it. You might as well say that, for Canopus, seeing Tom in this humiliating hat was the only redeeming aspect of hosting this birthday party. 
“You never fail to make my day, Canopus,” Tom murmured quietly, his eyes coldly narrowing on the black-haired Slytherin. You had to admit, despite the comically small ‘Birthday Boy’ hat perched atop the Dark Lord, his seething glare was still enough to send a shiver down your spine.
  “Well, it’s tradition,” Canopus shrugged with a smug smirk on his lips, a brave reaction worthy of praise from a Gryffindor. You had no idea what it was that Canopus had: courage, stupidity, or simply a warped sense of fear. But, whatever it was, you couldn’t help but pity and admire it at the same time.
“So... Presents,” Abraxas clapped his hands excitedly, contently watching as the group sat around the sofas.
“Here, Tom. Happy birthday,” Abraxas beamed at Tom as he passed the wrapped package that was clearly a book from its size and shape.
Tom did not respond and tore open the paper wrapping.
“Oh. Actually… this is quite helpful,” Tom showed the book cover to you and Canopus; the title read ‘Dictatorship 101: A Beginner's Guide to Regime Change by Khalilah D Smith’. “Thank you, Abraxas. For the thoughtful gift,” Tom even managed a slight curl of his lips.
The blond looked quite pleased with himself, turning his nose slightly up in the air with a proud smile.
“Pshhh, as if our great Tom needs any instructions on becoming a dictator,” Canopus rolled his eyes. 
“I, on the other hand, got the only thing Tom needs on his destined path to greatness: Time,” Canopus added an exaggerated flourish to his hands that gestured to the box on the coffee table, ignoring the clear annoyance that flashed across Abraxas’ elegant features.
“You should know, Canopus,” Tom raised a brow as he opened the box. “Your words bring nothing but anxiety to my already troubled mind.”
You peeked in over Tom’s shoulder to find what exactly he meant by ‘time’, as Canopus dramtically worded. To your surprise, it was packets of energy drink powder.
“Ohh… nooo, Canopus…” you murmured quietly, recalling the Dark Lord’s sensitivity to caffeine. The last time he tried one cup of coffee, he stayed up for four nights in a row. “What on earth made you think this was a good idea?”
“Shush shush,” Canopus silenced your words of terror, not even giving you a glance. “Tom, remember the coffee that you had? Imagine that, but double that.”
Tom’s eyes widened in amusement as he glanced at it. “By that logic, I could conquer the wizarding world twice as fast.”
“Exactly my point!” Canopus’ eyes glimmered wildly. “You don’t trust us with a thing. And you’re right to do so. Imagine how much you could get done if you could do everything yourself.”
Tom hummed, nodding along. “You know what, Canopus? For the first time in my life, you did not disappoint.”
You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are just enabling his unhealthy obsession with power!” You grabbed Tom’s shoulders, and he slightly wobbled from left to right as your seething eyes captured Abraxas and Canopus. “What Tom needs is stability. Emotional support.”
The wincing was visible on Tom’s face as you said the word ‘emotional support’, but before he had any opportunity to protest, you presented him with a medium-sized box. Tom was bewildered by the way the box seemed to shake on its own. But still, carefully, he opened the box.
“Oh,” Tom seemed lost for words. “Oh. This is… rather… unexpected.”
“Unexpected? What is it-” but Canopus did not need to finish his question, as a small tabby kitten poked his head out of the box and pressed his paws against Tom’s eyes. 
Tom grew silent.
“You thought giving Tom a cat was a good idea?” Canopus turned his disbelieving eyes to you. “And here you were, telling me gifting energy drinks was irresponsible.”
You scowled at your friend, not noticing the kitten that had begun climbing Tom’s uniform like it was his life mission. “Well, I, as his friend who actually know him, happen to think that an emotionally volatile person like Tom needs a support animal.”
“Emotionally volatile?” Tom repeated to himself quietly, doubting his ears over the words that came from this supposed friend of his. At that moment, Tom was trying to ignore the kitten on his shoulder, who was pressing his paws against his cheek.
You had to admit, Tom was showing a surprising level of patience towards the kitten, a bitter realisation following closely behind that, perhaps, Tom tolerated the kitten more than any of his human friends. The tabby cat began to incessantly meow by Tom’s right ear, demanding his attention.
Abraxas was watching all of this with intrigued amusement in his pale eyes. “Well… let’s just hope that the cat will survive to see adulthood.”
You found the meowing rather adorable, but it was clear that Tom’s patience was quickly wearing thin. Even for kittens, the Dark Lord had his limits, it seemed. “Look, I only speak snake,” Tom barked, turning his head to the right, speaking directly to the kitten with frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
The kitten only responded by pressing his paws on Tom’s lips, perhaps for the first and the last time the Dark Lord was silenced. Either from rage or being overwhelmed by the kitten’s cuteness, Tom’s cheeks turned a bright red. For the sake of the kitten, you hoped it was the latter.
“Oh hey,” Canopus’ eyes widened at the kitten’s bold move. “What do you know? He might just live to see adulthood.”
Tom growled as the kitten began his climb up Mt. Tom again. “How wonderful,” he murmured darkly, his displeased eyes following the kitten’s tail that swung back and forth in front of his face as he made his way up his head. The kitten was now wrestling with the ‘Birthday Boy’ hat, fighting for his spot on top of his head.
“Not so intimidating anymore, are you Tom?” Canopus snickered as his eyes flickered
between the Dark Lord and the cat that had settled comfortably on top of his head.
Tom’s vehement glare from behind the swinging tail was quite the sight to behold. At that moment, for whatever came over its small brain, the kitten leapt off of Tom’s head and landed on Canopus’ face.
“Agh! What’s happening?!” Canopus tried to pull off the kitten while its claws dug into his face. “Get it off me!”
“Yes. Yes!” Tom’s dark chuckle echoed in the Room of Requirement, while Abraxas watched the scene in terror, his hands elegantly covering his gaping mouth. 
You could confidently say, that for the rest of your life, you would never forget the cheerful eyes of Tom when he turned to you and said, “You were right, dear. Emotional support was exactly what I needed.”
A/N: Ended up writing as a sequel of sorts to 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒾𝓃ℯ. Not my best writing, but hope you still enjoyed it!
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miyosei · 8 months
Text
TO YOU, MY WORLD.
premise. i assign them a oneus song based on what it’s like when they love you — ft. clorinde, lyney, navia, neuvillette
reader is gn, lowercase, written before the release of clorinde / navia / neuvillette, you don’t need to know oneus to understand ( but if you do please be my friend )
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CLORINDE. champion duelist
you and i are in different conditions, it’s tiring approaching you cold — fragile
it’s almost frustrating—how incompatible you are, how suffocating the atmosphere is when she’s in the same room as you, how stiff the conversations feel when you force yourself to be cordial.
not to the fault of her, or even you for that matter. you are just so inexplicably difficult to grasp, like a sword just out of her reach and so close to the tips of her fingers.
but clorinde is an unstoppable force and is stubborn to a fault. and you are a cannon made of glass.
or maybe, you are the moon, pulling her in during the high tides and letting go once the sun begins to rise. a secret kept behind closed doors only when there are no prying eyes—the people of fontaine are notoriously known for their love of gossip.
maybe the truth isn’t that you aren’t incompatible, just opposite forces that are too powerful for their own good. because when she isn’t trailing behind your respective god or walking beside the chief justice, you find that clorinde the person and clorinde the champion duelist are rather different from each other. and much to your chagrin, just clorinde is regrettably more pleasant than you’ve led yourself to believe.
clorinde cannot afford to be emotional. it is nonnegotiable, a fundamental pillar that comes with her occupation—the one she swore her life to until her final breath.
still, she can’t help but want to be closer to you. stealing glances every so often during court trials, lingering near your home for just a second too long when she passes by on her patrols, stopping her hands from reaching out to you during the rare instances where you happen to cross paths.
clorinde has fought many battles and has come out of that same arena unscathed without a single imperfection on her skin. but when you stand before her face to face glaring daggers into her head with eyes that have long since put her in her grave, clorinde thinks this is one fight she does not know how to win.
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LYNEY. spectacle of phantasmagoria
the long awaited curtains finally open, and the lights shine only on you — stand by
for lyney, it comes as easily as setting a stage. and luckily for him, he has had years of experience of entertainment to last him the next lifetime.
adjust the lights, load the sparklers, make sure all the props are perfectly prepared—because it has to be perfect, or it is not worth calling a show at all.
it has to be perfect because you’re sitting there in the center of his world, and he cannot handle the thought of disappointing you when your eyes twinkle and you have a smile that makes his heart flutter out of his chest. truly, he thinks you’ve been the one charming him and not the other way around.
and it’s your seat, nobody else’s. he’ll throw a fit if anyone else gets assigned that spot in the opera, lynette has seen it turn out so one too many times.
when did he become so lovesick, lyney tries to pinpoint where it started. it’s difficult to gauge, because even in his deepest memories, you were always there. in every corner of his heart, in all the gaps of his fingers. it all reminds him of you. the street performers sing choirs of love that make his heart melt, trinkets on display he wonder if you would like, desserts through the windows that he would love to try with you.
( correction: desserts that lyney would love to see you try. not because he particularly dislikes sweets, but because he fears his heart may just go into overdrive if exposed to both the melting flavors and your hypnotizing light. )
“how horrible, i’ve been ruined!” he falls dramatically into the cushions of his bed, face first into the pillows as lynette sits idly beside him with a cup of tea. the extravagant display is only two stops short of the truth. one that lyney is reluctant to accept for a number of regrettably selfish reasons.
the first: he buried the dull and boring pieces of himself and locked them away for no one else to see in favor of his charismatic prestige. it would not come so easily to let that go.
the second, and the more daunting: if he suddenly peeled back the facade, would you still love him? would you think him undesirable and remove yourself from his life? no, that would be just awful, he can’t have that happen.
of course, you’ve never had any explicit expectations for him. and of course, lyney doesn’t know if you love him. but he, as every other lovesick loser, truly hopes you do. because he isn’t sure if he can keep denying himself any longer.
but alas, he’s out of time—the stage lights flash and the curtains are drawn open. and lyney, of course, enters with the same dramatic flair. his eyes instantly find yours in the crowd. you’re in your spot, like you always are. your smile makes his chest pound, like it always does.
oh, he can only hope for you to stay once the show ends.
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NAVIA. demoiselle of the spina di rosula
it’s like i’m crooked in front of you, my head is spinning round and round — zigzag
the world is moving so quickly, and navia can’t seem to see even two steps in front of her. the last she remembered, you were in front of her with a devilish grin. when she blinked, you were out of sight like she was never speaking to you in the first place.
oh, this is so embarrasing. spina di rosula’s big boss caught in a lovestruck daze, all because of an outsider with a pretty smile. melus asks if she’s feeling unwell when her faces runs red—to which navia only responds with a slam to the door of her private headquarters.
it’s all so black and white when it comes to you, like tunnel vision focusing only on the destination. as if you were the one thing she was looking for this entire time.
would you like this dress? or perhaps a matching suit would be better? would it be too over the top to get custom made matching outfits?
“demoiselle, it’s just a small banquet.”
navia almost has the nerve to look shocked. just a small banquet? impossible, nothing is small when it comes to you. everything has to be perfect. because you’re the greatest partner she’s ever had, her closest companion, her number one. of course it has to be perfect. how ridiculous people must be to think it otherwise.
regardless, it’s no secret to anyone that the two of you are most comfortable around each other. behind the flamboyant mask and an outfit with far too many buttons, your laughter rings through the open air and reaches her like a gust of wind—brushing past her hair and leaving her paused and dizzy.
this is absurd, is she tipsy? no—no, she is most definitely sober. sober and flustered and definitely staring far too obviously for her liking. but, if that sparkle in your eyes was any indication, then you didn’t seem to mind it much at all.
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NEUVILLETTE. ordainer of inexorable judgement
i was always there just out of your orbit, if only i could tell you i love you — halley’s comet
‘when it rains in fontaine, the hydro dragon is in mourn.’
common knowledge to the people who hailed from the land of justice. and if that is to be treated as fact, then the emotional equivalent of the unforgiving weather must be grief.
but nothing has gone wrong in neuvillette’s life to warrant such a visceral reaction. surely, something is different, but each knob belongs to a door that does not open. an unusual—if not cruel—predicament.
the first time he saw you, it was raining. back then, you didn’t have any coverage and instead stood soaked down to the laces of your boots. what were you thinking about, he wonders. what are you thinking about now, where are you now?
in the moment, he thought you strange for standing out in the worst storm of the season. now, he likens that scene to a better time—cast in the shadow of your light when you turn with a bright grin and ask just what ‘monsieur neuvillette’ is doing out in the pouring rain.
he blinked, almost caught off guard. shouldn’t he be the one asking you that? there is no one else out in the city besides the two of you. any well-minded fontainian would know better than to frolic in the puddles and kick up water in the streets.
but neuvillette, while he does not know why, knows that you are a flame that cannot be doused.
you, always just out of reach from his fingertips when he opens himself with outstretched hands and eyes that don’t quite match his face. you, a searing comet that cuts through the sky without a second to spare, a trail of stardust left in your wake.
and if you were willing to wait for him, just this once. he would come to you open armed with his vulnerability exposed.
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don’t talk to me about how lyney’s is so much longer than everyone else’s … i don’t know what happened also if you see me come back to this post to add the images don’t pay it any mind zzzz
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starogeorgina · 6 months
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Violent delights
Warnings: Swearing
Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc
1.12
“Try not to pull, princess; the chains will become tighter if you do.”
“Thank you, Ser Arryk.”
The knight gives you a sympathetic look before going to stand beside another knight of the kingsguard by the entrance to the room. You were surprised that Ser Arryk was showing you any kindness at all, considering he was on the side supporting the usurper. Perhaps it was because his twin brother bent the knee to your mother or because he knew how devious the greens really were.
Daemon had accompanied you from Dragonstone to the Keep in disguise before bidding you farewell. A few moments later, you ditched the disguise and allowed yourself to be taken, which is how you found yourself in the tower of the hand, awaiting Alicent’s arrival. The moment Otto clapped his eyes on you, he ordered the knights to put shackles on you. He claims it was to protect the king. Your sudden arrival had interrupted a counsel meeting. Ser Tyland Lannister and Larys Strong both kept glancing at you, looking visibly uncomfortable.
The doors to the room open, and Alicent enters, looking in complete shock at your presence. She mumbles something to her father before sitting down beside him. It must have dawned on her that if you could get this close to the keep unnoticed, then others could easily do the same. She took in a long, deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as she took in your appearance. If it weren’t for your Targaryen features, you could have been easily mistaken for a beggar from the streets of flea bottom. Eventually she asks, “Lyarra, what are you doing here?”
“Hopefully to bend the knee to the rightful heir to the iron throne,” Otto says, his voice oozing with arrogance.
“Tell me, years after proclaiming my mother as heir, did my grandsire, King Viserys, not sit Prince Jacaerys upon his knee while sitting atop the Iron Throne and say, ‘One day this will be your seat, lad.’ In front of his entire counsel?”
Neither Alicent nor Otto answered your question.
The dowager queen toys with the necklace hanging around her slender neck, the symbol of the faith of the seven. With her hair neatly braided back and dressed in a modest green gown, she looked like a lady, but only someone who knew Alicent like you did could see her true venomous nature.
Otto breaks the silence. “King Aegon and prince Aemond shall be returning to the keep soon. Bend the knee, and they will be merciful.”
“I shall do no such thing. The blood of my sweet brothers is on their hands.”
“Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replies.
Her words cut deep, but you don’t give her the satisfaction of shedding a single tear. “The more you talk freely, the more others will see who you really are. Lucerys was just a child, as was Gaemon.”
Otto leans in and whispers something in Larys ear, to which the clubfoot shakes his head. The older man looks taken aback. “Prince Gaemon is dead?”
“Assassins were sent to Dragonstone to slay one of my sons, but they killed my brother instead.”
Their reactions have you stumped. It seems nobody in the room was aware of this, which could only mean Aegon and Aemond were no longer seeking counsel and doing whatever they pleased. Alicent presses her forehead into her hands and says, “May the mother have mercy on us all.”
You can’t contain the scoffs that leave your mouth, “the mother.”
The former queen glares up at you with tears in her eyes, no doubt out of fear of the chain of reactions her sons had set in motion. “Faith in the gods—”
Something inside you snaps—how dare she preach about faith when she herself was an ungodly woman? With tears in your eyes, you hiss, “Your son, your king, raped and defiled me, and my faith in the gods did nothing to stop it. My faith did nothing to stop the loss of my son.” Tears fall freely from your tired eyes as years of pent-up emotions start to bubble over. “My mother made Jacaerys and Lucerys swear under the eyes of the Seven to go as messengers, not as warriors, before they left Dragonstone. I assume your sons did no such thing, Alicent.”
Alicent looks hollow, as if nothing you’ve just said registers in her brain. “Take the princess to her former quarters. Make sure she doesn’t leave the room.”
Once in your old quarters, you were allowed to sit on a platform that overlooked the gardens of King's Land while an emergency meeting took place. Of course, you were still in shackles and had knights watching your every move just in case you tried to escape. However, you were no longer alone; Larys had come to tell you of the latest casualty in the war for the throne, the princess Rhaenys. Your grandmother had flown into a trap set up by Ser Criston Cole, and she was attacked by both your uncles as they rode upon their dragons and killed both her and her dragon.
Your heart ached; you loved your grandmother and would miss her forever.
“Might I ask why you suggested that Princess Helaena and her children leave the keep?” Larys asks.
“An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged,” you click your tongue. “Those are the words spoken by my stepfather, Prince Daemon, and as much as I agree my brother's death should be avenged, I do not wish to see harm come to Princess Helaena or her children.”
He raises his brows, and Larys looks deep in thought before speaking again. “I suppose that makes sense, especially since you’ve now made yourself a hostage here, so it’s likely the red keep will come under attack.”
Daemon told you it wouldn’t take the clubfoot long before he came to you, under the pretense of trying to make peace, which would be why Larys made a point of having food and tea brought to you. He probably thought he could lure you into a false sense of security and, in the end, learn something he could use against the blacks.
“Under attack?”
“Oh yes,” he says before taking a drink of tea. “Once word spreads among the small folk that Rhaenyra’s daughter, the beloved princess Lyarra, is being held within the keep, they are likely to start questioning their loyalties. And as you came here on your own accord, I’m assuming it won’t be long before your husband, mother, and stepfather come to rescue you, bringing fire and blood in the process.”
Before you can say anything else, Criston enters the room, followed closely by two serving girls, who both had their heads hanging low. You notice one of the girls holding a dark emerald dress and scowling, which amuses the knight. “The king wishes for you to wear this. He will be gracing you with a visit after attending the feast celebrating his most recent victory.”
Larys uses his stick to help himself stand and says, “I shall leave the princess to it.”
Criston nods his head in Lary's direction before addressing you. He removes the shackles. “I have a theory, princess, that the reason your brother was mistaken for one of your sons was because your children are no longer on Dragonstone.”
You smile up at him and say, “say another word about my children, and I’ll have my husband feed you to Vermax.”
Criston smirks. As he turns to leave the room, he speaks to the servants, “Make sure she is bathed and dressed by nightfall.”
As you approach your quarters, returning from the dragonpit, you hear the sounds of a child’s screams echoing down the hallways, and guilt begins to stir inside you. Leaving your daughter to go dragon riding was something you had second-guessed, but your mother assured you nothing bad would happen in the short time you were gone and insisted that riding Viserion would be good for you.
Your pace quickens the closer you get, fear etched into your features. When you enter the nursery and see that Aemma is not in her cot, you start to panic until you hear Jacaerys hushed voice. “Your muña will be back soon; she’d never go far without you. She loves you so much. We both do.”
Quietly, you walk into another room to see Jace holding Aemma in his arms, sitting by the fireplace, singing her a lullaby, and caressing her hair as her eyes start to close over. Smiling, you observe the sweet moment between them. Aemma was at the age when she was learning what words meant and observing the world around her, including who her parents are.
You walk up behind Jace and crouch down enough to kiss him on the cheek, which causes him to blush. “She woke up from a nap upset,” he whispers. “I think she was looking for you.”
You smile. “I think she was looking for her kepa, and now that she’s found him, she’s settled.”
Jacaerys eyes become glossy. As far as you were concerned, from the moment you first kissed Jacaerys on the balcony, he was Aemma’s father, but you understood why he needed reassurance.
Jace places an arm around your shoulder, and you sit to cuddle in beside him and your babe. “I love you,” you say quietly. “I don’t tell you that enough, but I really do love you and our family.”
You’re pulled from your slumber when you hear a clattering noise. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by the sight of the usurper cursing as he picks up his cup, which he had knocked onto the ground, before refilling it. You keep your eyes tightly shut to hold back the tears. Now that the moment has come to put Daemon's plan into motion, you wish you’d never left Dragonstone. You longed to be back in Jacacery's arms, watching as your children played together on the beach of your home.
You’d fallen asleep sitting on one of the leather chairs and were in that deep of a sleep you didn’t hear him enter. It felt like déjà vu; you and the room had both been ‘readied' for Aegon. Plenty of wine was brought before his arrival, and the oils that he liked the smell of were brushed through your hair.
“Can I ask you something?”
Aegon rolls his eyes and says, “If you must.”
“If I had left here and married some lord who raised Aemma as his own, would you have cared? Or do you only want to hurt Jacaerys?”
“Do you know what they call my half sister? The whore of Dragonstone, as I recall. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the mother of bastards.” Holding up his cup towards you, when you shake your head, he scoffs, “Gods, I forgot how boring you could be. Give me one good reason why you won’t drink with me.”
“My milk is still coming through.”
He scrunches his nose up in disgust. “I forgot you just had another little b-a”
“Don’t you dare say it!” you snap. The tight fabric of the dress you are wearing rubs against your skin as you move to sit on your knees on the ground beside him. Deep down, you still wanted to believe Aegon wanted to be a good person, but you knew that wasn’t true; it was just a lie you told yourself. “My children are not bastards; all of them are Velaryon’s.”
Aegon looks disinterested, returning his attention back to the wine in his hand. His eyes were becoming heavier, and his body language was more sluggish.
“So why did you really come to the keep? I’m assuming you don’t want to bend the knee; do you want to remember what it’s like to be pleasured by a man?”
“Why aren’t you more angry with Alicent for letting me take Aemma and making her a bastard?”
His face falls. “She is my mother. She was doing what she thought was best for me.”
Alicent and Aegon’s relationship was something you’d never understand or feel the need to question, especially since he had you wear a gown that closely resembles the ones his mother wears. Tears well in your eyes, “my nephew can keep his bitch, but I will keep my daughter, or I will have their heads. Did you really say that?”
“Yes. Is the girl still on Dragonstone?”
“I’ve sent Aemma far away from Dragonstone to keep her safe.”
The tension in the room changes as Aegon becomes angry at your answer. He goes into graphic detail about how he planned on torturing Jacaerys, mainly by hurting you. It was clear he had no intention of stopping the war until every member of the blacks were dead. Just as Daemon predicted. The list of monstrosities committed by the Greens included rape, kinslaying, usurpation, and treason, and it would only grow as time went on.
“There’s the Aegon I remember. Cruel and selfish.”
“I can have your tongue removed for that.”
“Hmm,” you say, getting to your feet and stepping away from him. “I used to think I was a good person; I tried to be anyway. But what I’ve learned over the years is that I’m willing to do anything to protect my family.”
Aegon attempts to reach for you, but his arm falls to the ground. He slurs, “What did you do?”
“You want to take my daughter from me, tried to have my son killed, and have now just confessed to planning to kill my husband.” Tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t let you do that.”
You walk towards the part of the wall that has a weirwood tree engraved on it. You run your fingers over the smooth edges before pressing on the middle of it to open it.
“Lyarra, you stupid bitch, get back here.”
You let out a deep sigh before stepping aside to let two men enter the bed chamber. Blood and Cheese, two rat catchers who had been hired by Daemon to seek revenge for Lucerys You weren’t sure what the full plan entails; your only part was to get them into the keep, then escape. You glance back at Aegon, who has now passed out. Soon as the wine was brought into the room, you put the sleeping aid given to you by the maester on Dragonstone into the cup beforehand, knowing the first thing Aegon would do when he arrived would be to drink.
You pick up the disguise that’s been left on the opposite side of the secret door; you need to change before you stare, going down the hidden hallways and far away from whatever you’d just set into motion.
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silent-sanctum · 2 years
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Dating Headcanons with Jotaro Kujo (Part 3) ♥
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As a regular teenager with hormones, Jotaro's bound to crush on someone even if he tries his hardest not to.
When Jotaro meets you walking into his life with your dynamic demeanor, he's stunned and something in his chest does this weird tightening thing. It takes him weeks to process this feeling as a crush.
Putting aside the popular hc that is Jotaro still being an asshole in the relationship, i'd like to play contrarian and say that when he enters into a relationship, he becomes extremely tolerable towards you and you alone and will endure anything for you.
This means he will tolerate whatever bullshit you decide to share with him, may it be a positive or a negative.
You're feeling happy and excited over a new release of your favorite band? He will be there to listen and accept all your ramblings (just as long you keep the volume toned down just by a little bit, he still gets annoyed with loud outbursts).
You're feeling moody and depressed? He'll still be there for you silently, putting an arm up as a sign that he'll hold you close for as long as you want as a replacement for his lack of comforting words.
I'd like to think he's fine with light PDA.
Meaning he'll hold your hand while his other hand is in his pocket, or he'll lay his hand over the small of your back while you walk.
No extra sappy crap like public smooches would happen because he's reserved af but you're fine with it; you still got the fun banter to make up for it.
Is he a gift giver? Not the best but he's trying.
Instead of giving you a gift pre-date, he gifts you things along the way: He pays for stuff and he buys things you found and liked as you passed it by.
Because of this, you learned to control your window shopping habits to spare mercy on your boyfriend's wallet.
He'll still appear and sound grouchy though, but you know him well enough that he means well and is just the default demeanor you got to know and love throughout your time with him.
He's also the type to be silent most of the time but that's because he prefers listening to your voice and your countless stories than hear his own gruff one.
He also uses his silence as means for him to gaze at you with newfound softness as if to convey all those unsaid loving feelings towards you.
He also buys you things at random; one afternoon you're just cleaning your room and when you open the door to take the trash out, you find a brand new Walkman and 2 tapes tied up together with a ribbon at your doorstep with a post-it note.
"you easily get bored. stop borrowing mine."
You still borrow his Walkman out of teasing purposes but to make up for it, you 2 take turns sharing your new music player.
When it comes to dates, i stand by the idea that Jotaro takes you to somewhere that is peaceful and natural such as the park, the aquarium, the beach etc., because according to him, he cherishes just being with you so much that entertainment factor of the location doesn't matter.
With the scenery, he gets to have a peace of mind and have the opportunity to gaze at you from time to time while you talked, seeing how beautiful you are and how the surroundings amplified your beauty.
Honest to god, Jotaro still couldn't believe you fell for his rude ass.
As for you, you're happy with wherever he wants to go because for you, seeing him at peace after a journey of relentless battles is all you wanted from him. If he's happy, you're happy. And vice versa.
He's possessive. period.
That's why he's into light pda because he gets to show to everyone that 1.) he's taken, 2.) you're taken, and 3.) mind your own business.
He unconsciously hovers around you when you're near him and the second you interact with your male acquaintances, he stands in the background silent and glares at the said person.
You know your boyfriend's behind you but you continue chatting with the now fear-addled acquaintance because you had things to share and you're not letting Jotaro's death glares stop you.
But often time, his ideal quality time with you is at the comforts of home, either his or yours.
You lounge together by the bed, listen to music, eat snacks, drink alcohol, and simply sit beside each other and relax as you talk to him with a soft voice that lulls him almost to sleep.
If he does show signs that he'd want some shut eye, he allows you to have his head on your lap as you hum him a song and card through his curly hair. Do this and the big man would be sleeping with a tiny smile on his face.
Sometimes though, Jotaro prefers taking a nap while he's sitting against the wall with your back pressed against his chest and he's holding you with one arm.
If it wasn't clear yet, his innermost urge to cuddle shows up as early as high school, though he still acts cool about it and keeps it at a minimum.
Meaning you initiate the snuggling and he accepts it with a mutter of his catchphrase.
That started after you both survived the 50 day journey and he's just relieved you were alive so some physical reassurance was needed behind doors.
You love it either way because soft Joot is best Joot.
When sleeping together, the positions you both prefer would be spooning (may it be he the big spoon or little spoon) or your head on his chest (bonus if his inner urge to cuddle surfaces and an arm comes to rest on your back).
Only when he knows and is sure you're asleep is when his words come out in whispers as he gazes at your sleeping form and his hand caresses your tousled hair.
Jotaro doesn't say much even during intimate moments like this but what he does say are words he's either shy or afraid of saying out loud to you:
"please continue staying by my side y/n... 'cause i will."
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ravenwitch45 · 8 months
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Can you make a part two to your m&m parent headcannon where they meet their parents and the parents what their kid back and the reader has a panic attack
Oh god well this is some drama for sure, AND a panic attack, full disclosure I've never written a panic attack before, but I'll try my best cause I like this idea. Sorry for the delay on answering.
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M&M Meeting Reader's Parents who want "their kid" back and cause Reader to have a panic attack.
It was just a day at the office, Blitz and Loona were out doing something so it was just the three of you, chatting while doing menial stuff as a family would when the door bursts open, a very done up woman strutting in angrilly, followed by a much more messily dressed man, who seems very grumpy being here compared to the woman.
"Y/N! So this is where you've skulked off to, without telling us may I remind you!"The Woman rants crossing her arms, your eyes going wide at their presence "M-Mom? Dad?! What are y-"
"Mother and Father Dear, Be respectful, least you can do after this stunt..."The Snooty woman interjects bitterly, making you frown, looking away, unable to get a word in.
"Y/N here was being respectful, now what are you doing here? This is a buisness establishment, you can't just barge in."Moxxie points, crossing his arms, glaring at the woman
"I'm here for my child, and this is a family matter, so butt out"She replies with a sneer, looking back to you, only for Millie to get up and stand between you too.
"Well you haven't seemed interested in them at all for literal months, you can't walk in like you own them all of a sudden"The wrath Imp notes, her tail flicking aggresively, your birth mother tensing up in annoyance before her husband put a hand on her shoulder
"Look theres no need for this. Y/N... Your mother wants you to come back, she has a position at her firm she thinks you can fill, you should do what she wants."He states tiredly, his wife nodding
"Yes, should be easy enough so that even you can manage dear~"She says passive aggresively, making both Imps glare at her further before you explode
"B-But... No! I don't want to work with you, you can't just ignore me in favor of arguing with eachother and then come back just cause you think I can make you more money to spend on yourselves! I left you guys for a reason!"You state angrilly, finally having the courage to say that with your actual loving parents at your side. Your mother's eyes twitching.
"Oh no..."Your father whispers, looking at his wife in fear
"You BASTARD PARASITE! I give up so much for you and you throw it all back in my face, now you are going to come with us, and EARN some goddamn worth, cause as usual you prove you have none! I should have thrown you away like the trash you act like!"The woman rants loudly, almost loud enough to hurt as tears prick at your eyes and you start shaking, putting your hands on your head to block out the echoing screams, breathing heavily
"Y/N...?"Moxxie says, looking to you and putting his hands on your shoulders in concern, as Millie bares her teeth at your abusers
"Crybaby, come along al-"Your mother states snobilly, reaching for you before Millie slaps it away, hard
"There not going anywhere with you! You toxic bitch! You are going to leave and if you any smarts in that pretty head of yours, you won't come back for OUR CHILD!"Millie yells angrilly, pulling out her knife, just making the woman scoff as her husband tried to tell her to leave, but was swiftly ignored
"They are-"She begins before a bullet wizs past her face, cutting a hole in her finely done hair and she's stunned silent as she looks at Moxxie, holding his kid close with one arm and the other holding a smoking gun as he glares at her
"They aren't your child , you don't deserve the gift they are if your going to treat them like this, and you wonder why they left you..."The Weapons expert says with aged bitterness, readying another shot before the woman screams and storms out, her husband quickly following after another growl from Millie.
The two immediately shifting gears to trying to calm you down while trying not to crowd you, just wanting to assure you, you are safe and loved and safe from them. In the back of their heads there considering figuring out a restraining order or whatever to make sure they don't disturb you ever again. Holding you close and softly.
Okay there it is! I am SO sorry this took so long, I was just having trouble figuring this one out as well as some other stuff going on that delayed me getting to this. I jut hope you enjoy it XP
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spaceumbredoggos · 2 months
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There has been a criminal absence of recent Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader headcanons, so I made some. Also, the tumblr folks eat this shit up. It’s hilarious. No one cares about my Kenz fic that I pour my heart and soul into, but when it comes to Yandere Bill, you thirst for the man. I am currently only taking headcanon requests (will elaborate later) because art takes forever to make.
All these HC’s also apply to Bill’s Relationship with my self insert OC. Just if they didn’t exist, like tumblr thinks they don’t. Please give So Much for Stardust the love it deserves. I’ll appreciate it.
Bill is very touchy feely to a criminal degree. (That’s as far as I’m gonna go because I don’t wanna have to put a content warning, and I don’t wanna come across as triggering. In my mind, it’s in line with Bill’s character to be that free candy van uncle.)
Does Bill possess Y/N? Does grass grow? Does a bear shit in the woods? That’s one of his favorite things to do. And he’s really good at covering his tracks. You bet your ass Y/N will wake up fucking wounded and sore from frequent possessions.
If Y/N dies, which would be pretty rare given Bill’s obsession, they’re gonna end up as a sinner in hell with their soul owned by Bill. Bill is higher than god himself on the hierarchy of my headcanoned Hellaverse if he did exist (which would be fucking hilarious, but given how much I hate Vivzie for various reasons, I doubt Hirsch would accept a collab since Vivzie has a heinous track record. My recent hyperfixation of the Hellaverse is clearly showing.) Bill would act almost like an overlord this way, and it’ll be sorta like a Val and Angel Dust relationship that’s written better. (I’m skirting around the most taboo parts of this to avoid triggering people including myself.)
Odds are, Y/N wouldn’t die. Bill has plans for them after all. So good luck avoiding his agenda of building a portal. Also, he’ll probably leave Alex Hirsch alone a lot, which may or may not lead to a drought in his Gravity Falls content. Bill’s likely to start a cult at this point to hunt Y/N down, specifically out of all those down bad fankids who’d let him do unspeakable things to them.
Bill will resort to all sorts of psychological torture. Maybe even projecting himself into your video games and other media that you delve into, with various alternate versions of himself (I’m glaring at you, Volo from Pokemon Legends Arceus.)
With every single fandom you hold dear tainted (and he’s gonna do a lot of unspeakable things to fandoms), you will be molded into serving him. If his interpretation from character AI taught me anything (which I no longer support) it’s that he needs total obedience from a slave and would stop at nothing to have that.
Good luck going off the grid to avoid him, because that’s when shit gets 100 times worse. With no contact with those you care about, he’d start driving you crazy. And if you managed the injuries he did to your body when he possessed it successfully, you won’t be able to manage any further injury that happens from your eventual insanity.
Bill has a blood kink times 11. He’ll do anything to make you bleed, but not bleed out. Blood and pain is what he feeds on.
He’s going to be speaking in Y/N’s head all the fucking time. He’ll be mixing his voice directly into Y/N’s own thoughts, taking over their entire fantasies, and quite possibly drive them to the point of dissociating in a psych ward for any sort of relief if they don’t build a portal for him to cross over.
This isn’t a scenario where Y/N is blind to all the red flags, and if it were, there’d still be nothing they could really do. Y/N is powerless, riddled with fear, and trying to flee and fight at any turn. Bill truly has them trapped from the moment he laid his possessive eye on them.
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w4yf1nder · 2 years
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i dont't like this, but i haven't written in a while so here it is.
it wasn't supposed to be like this. you look around you, mentally going through the list of names, your eyes darting around the familiar figures restlessly, the traveler, yelan, yanfei, shinobu, itto...xiao...where is xiao?
the scene replays in your mind's eye, time after agonizing time, you're forced to replay the image of xiao putting in the last of his strength to bring you to safety.
and then, you're here. you can imagine him falling endlessly down the darkness, so close to freedom and yet. yet, he chose to sacrifice himself.
you're forcing yourself back to your feet, it hurts so much, your entire body hurts and your throat feels raw but you're pushing yourself back towards the chasm. once you find him everything will be ok, you just need to find him, you must find him, you must bring him to safety or else he'll—
you don't even notice the tears in your eyes until aether places a hand on your shoulder, his eyes are pained too. and that's when you notice the faces of your other friends, staring at you with pity. do i look as broken as i feel? you want to ask, but your throat is closing in on you and you can't speak, you can't breathe. there's no way to explain this feeling.
what will it be like? a life without xiao?
you don't even want to imagine it.
you let yourself fall onto the ground and perhaps it's out of the kindness of everybody's hearts that they didn't say a thing.
there's only silence.
you don't register a thing for the few minutes afterwards, you can hear paimon saying something and then you feel a gentle hand resting on your shoulder. you'd recognize that touch anywhere.
you shoot up from the spot, glaring venomously at xiao. "what the fuck do you think you were doing?" you ask, your voice shaking with anger, or was it fear? you were scared for him, for the possibility of a life without him.
his expression remains impassive and you were left to wonder if he even cared. if he was so willing to sacrifice himself you doubt he does.
you distance yourself from the rest of the group for a while, feeling the concerned looks some of them were giving to you.
"may i have a word?" xiao finally talks and when you turn around you notice that it's just the two of you again.
"speak." you say, tone icy.
xiao sighs, his expression finally letting on his conflicted feelings.
"i'm sorry." he finally says. the words are said with so much sincerity that your last remaining strength vanishes.
"what would i—how would i live without you?" you ask, burying your head in his shoulder and he holds you without any complaint.
"you'd be fine without me." he mumbles into your hair and you scoff lightly through your tears, "is that what you think?"
he doesn't respond.
"you need to stop doing that you idiot." you whisper tiredly, but he doesn't say a thing. you pull away to look at his face which has taken on a more contemplative expression.
"i thought that after living so long...dying in the act of saving others wouldn't be so bad." you're stunned into silence by his words. the entire time...you were making this all about you.
"that's..." he's truly selfless. maybe too selfless. "but is that true?"
"what?"
"did you accept your death in that moment? was there not a single part of you that wanted to live?" you ask.
"...perhaps." he responds and you sigh. "perhaps, these thoughts are my own form of insanity."
"xiao..."
"i'm sorry for causing you pain and i—" you kiss him to shut him up. "stop." you mumble into his lips.
"you did save all of us in that moment, so thank you. but i swear to god if you do something that reckless again i'm going to bury you myself." you say grabbing his face and making him look into your eyes. "understood?"
he looks surprised for a moment before a small smile forms on his lips, "understood."
you could never remain mad at that face for long anyway.
you're just glad he's still here.
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"y'know, i think this may actually be the funniest thing that i've ever experienced. either that or the saddest."
bruce, forever resigned to enduring the overdramatic woes of his eldest child, deigned to lift his head from where it had burrowed itself under several oversized pillows and give dick an absolutely scathing glare. dick smiled beatifically back.
bruce groaned and went back to wallowing.
"i mean," dick oh-so-lovingly continued, "this is karma at its finest. i remember when i went through the exact same thing."
"really," bruce said, trying his damndest to put as much incredulity in his voice as he could, given the way his face was mashed into a thousand-count pillowcase. it really was quite soft. for a brief moment, bruce contemplated sinking into the fabric, letting it envelop him and protect him from the cruel clutches of fate, never having to weather the outside world again. he was fairly certain cass was ready to be batman, and if worst came to worst, dick had proven more than capable of leading the justice league for him.
a thump on the bed next to him had him rolling his eyes while trying to stifle a smile. sometimes, bruce is dumbstruck by how much his son has grown, a paper-cut sort of ache. other times, like now, he could close his eyes and almost pretend he was twenty years younger, with an effervescent nine-year-old doing backflips on what dick deemed "the trampoline bed."
"yeah," dick said. "really. very first time i had a date lined up with a guy, i think i was sixteen. i was so nervous, you don't even know." a small quiver in dick's voice hits something very soft and very vulnerable in bruce's chest, and he shifts to look at dick, giving him his attention.
(he does know, is the thing. he remembers dick coming home from that date, eyes a little watery but a smile on his face as he told bruce it went well, then collapsed into the type of hug he hadn't asked for in years, bruce's collar all damp and his heart spilling up, overflowing, bursting.)
"i had my notecards and a speech lined up and everything," dick said, a teasing tone still threaded through his voice, but making himself softer. it was the tone dick took with younger kids he was mentoring, or particularly stubborn friends he was talking reason into. "and in the end, i just ended up word vomiting some version of a coming out speech. it was absolutely awful; i'm surprised you understood a word coming out of my mouth."
"'course i understood," bruce grumbled. "i'm your dad, it was pretty obvious what you'd been building up to for weeks." then, eyes widening—"fuck."
dick grinned down at him, nudging his shoulder in a manner most would deem cheerful and delighted, but what bruce really knows is smug and nefarious and indicative.
"exactly!" dick said, because bruce taught him how to set verbal traps once when he was thirteen and dick had been besting bruce at that particular skill for years.
"i hate you," bruce groans, rolling back over.
"just like you said—alfred knows you. it's pretty obvious to him what you've been building up to, but i know from personal experience that you're gonna want to actually tell him. it's....cathartic. and self-fulfilling."
"i wouldn't care if it was rhapsodic," bruce said. "i never—i never planned for this."
"because you never thought he would ask you? or because you never thought you'd allow yourself to say yes?"
god-fucking-damn dick to the depths of hell for knowing him so well, knowing the turns of his thoughts and the twists of his fears, for pulling his brain inside out and never running away from what he sees.
bruce sighed. "i've never been this lucky, dick. the best things in my life have always been you all, and you know how fraught our relationships are. this, whatever this is, has been going, uh, well? which means it'll go downhill somewhere, and if not with him and me then—"
"bull. shit." dick punched bruce in the arm. lightly, mostly. "this is alfred. he raised us all right alongside you. he's been nothing but supportive of more than half our harebrained ideas for years. hell, he wore a little pride pin on the lapel of his suit when i came out to him."
"yes but," bruce said, haltingly, "i've quite literally known him since birth. if he doesn't take it well..."
"if he doesn't take it well, which he won't, then you'll feel better for both having told him and for facing it yourself."
"it?"
"you're allowed to be happy, bruce, jesus," dick said. "and telling alfred will also, you know, make it a little more real for yourself. i feel like we've had this exact conversation before."
dick is—well, he's right, as he almost always is. and he's employed his particularly famous technique of cutting right to the heart of issues, ripping down the lies bruce told himself, leaving him hyperaware of his own pulse, thrumming in his wrist, and an inescapable flash of clarity.
"i suppose you have a point," bruce said, haltingly and low, and still resolute. with a push, he's sitting on the edge of a bed, feet braced on the plush rug. alfred should be just about starting to get dinner ready, and his—his date is for lunch tomorrow.
bruce, even with his back turned, can almost see the grin stretched across dick's face. "i normally do. now get going, bruce. thirty-something years of repression ain't gonna solve itself."
with a scoff that may have dripped into becoming more of a laugh, bruce ruffled his son's hair, then gave him a quick smile as he left his room, headed towards alfred.
--
list: @woahajimes @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @screennamealreadyused @clamityganon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical @queenofbooknerds @queen-of-ice494
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Werewolves, Beetles, Kneazles, Demigods, and Gods, oh my!
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AN: This is a continuation of this fic here! Thank you to @sinsiriuslyemo for her lovely words on my Remus Lupin drabble. If any of you are interested, I do have another fic where the reader is a demigod in the Harry Potter universe. It's called Discovering the Past and it's available on AO3. In that universe, the reader is a daughter of Demeter and while the final pairing will be Severus Snape and the reader - there will be some soft platonic moments between Sirius, Remus, and the reader.
Warnings: canon typical behaviours and attitudes, a hint of violence, and a steamy moment between Remus and the reader.
“Look here, little girl,” Rita Skeeter sneered distastefully across the table at Hermione.  “You don’t have the power to make me stop advocating for a Marriage Law and for a more suitable partner for (Name).”  She stirred her tea, “As the daughter of the King of the Heavens, she deserves the best that the Wizarding World can offer her.”
Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at Rita underneath the table, fully intending to use the forced Animagus transformation spell that she had been practicing at night at Hogwarts.
“Hermione may not have the power to make you stop, but I do.”
The Three Broomsticks went deathly silent; everyone in the pub seemed to be holding their breath.
“Lady Hecate!  You honour us with your presence!”  Rita uttered breathily.
Hermione remained silent.  “What do you say to a goddess?”  She wondered.  Nothing that came to her mind sounded sincere enough.  She kept her wand pointed at Rita just in case.
As the goddess drew to their table, Hermione felt the goddess’ power.  At first glance, Hecate appeared to be a normal citizen of Magical Britain but the longer the goddess remained in front of them, the more Hermione felt her power.  Hermione’s heart thumped erratically as the realisation dawned on her that since all of Wizarding Britain was Hecate’s creation, Hecate would know that Hermione was pointing her wand underneath the table at Rita.
Hermione figured the only thing she could do now was to point her wand at Rita above the table.  Rita flinched as soon as she registered Hermione’s movement.
“I would much rather stunned, awed silence than false flattery.  You have nothing to fear from Rita, put your wand away Hermione.”
Hermione’s hand tightened on the hilt of her wand but she complied with the goddess’ command.
“I had intended to arrive earlier but while I was here, I decided to tie up a few loose ends. None of Wizarding Britain has anything to fear from Voldemort or his supporters any longer.  Speaking of my reason for being here: anyone who attempts to interfere with Remus Lupin and (Name) (Surname)’s relationship will answer to me.”  Hecate stated evenly.
“But-”
“Silence!” Hecate commanded, slashing a hand through the air.  “For too long I have allowed you to run roughshod in my world.”  The goddess clicked her fingers, “As of now, you have been registered as an Animagus.  Everyone will know your scuttling form and you will face an unbiased Wizengamot to answer for the scandals and crimes you perpetuated due to your unauthorised methods of gaining information.”
Rita gulped as the patrons of the bar turned around in unison and glared at her.
“It is time to return to Hogwarts, Hermione,” Hecate ordered in a far gentler tone.  “You have my thanks and admiration for your willingness to protect a member of my family.”
Hermione swallowed nervously, “(Name) means a lot to me and many others.  Words cannot describe how much she loves Remus.”
“Go to Hogwarts Hermione.”  Hecate ordered again.  “I will not have you witness what is about to happen.”
This time, Hermione heeded the goddess’ words and returned to Hogwarts.  As she climbed into Gryffindor Tower, a feeling of calm washed over her and she knew that somehow, everything was going to be all right.
*Extended ending*
“I should be worshipping you,” Remus gasped out in between sighs of pleasure, pleas for more and breathy curses.  His hands gripped onto your hips as you ground down on his clothed erection and left wet kisses cross the expanse of his neck and bare chest.
Molly Weasley’s scream had the two of you jolting apart and fumbling for your wands.  You unlocked the bedroom door and dashed towards the lounge room.  It took you a minute to process what you were seeing.  In the lounge room Sirius was in his animagus form, wagging his tail.  His forelegs were bent and resting on the ground while his hindquarters were in the air.  You had seen his play bow before but what you hadn’t seen was him doing it to the medium sized kneazle that sat attentively in the middle of the room.
The kneazle mewed as soon as it spotted you and moved over to you on unsteady legs.  Your eyes scanned the room’s occupants.  You noticed Molly, a fully clothed Remus, the twins, Ron, and Harry standing off to the side before the kneazle scratched gently at your leg.
“Well, Hermione.  I guess this means Lady Hecate likes you.”
The kneazle purred as you scratched under her chin and looked up at you with a question in her eyes.
“Focus on what it feels like to be human.”  You instructed.
In her new form, Hermione retreated and closed her eyes.  Her kneazle form rippled and then it grew larger until she was once again human.  She shook her head from side to side before reopening her eyes.
“Am I an unregistered animagus?  How much trouble will I get into?”
“I doubt Lady Hecate would have put you in a position where you would be facing serious consequences since you haven’t offended her.  We will still check the Animagus Registry.  If it helps, no one in Magical Britain is going to risk Lady Hecate’s wrath by interrogating you about your new ability; there were too many witnesses in the Three Broomsticks two weeks ago.”  You placated the teen.
“Wicked!”  Fred and George gasped in unison, “We are going to have so much fun with this.”
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