#his eyes turn gold when he looks evil

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

[dewdropdinosaur]

White Gold Glitters Too

ALASTOR x READER SMUT

Summary: Lucifer takes too much of a liking to Alastor's wife and he seeks to claim her and prove his dominance. Fucking her for Lucifer to hear sounds like a good option.

Warnings: NSFW/18+. MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Oral Sex, Reader has a Vagina, Heavy Sex, C*m, Implied P in V Sex, Jealous Fucking, Mention of Restraints, Tentacles

I have never written smut before...so I am sorry.

REQUESTS OPEN

Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel, was known for his charismatic yet enigmatic presence. He ruled over his domain with a devilish grin and a penchant for blood. But beneath his charming facade lay a heart that beat fiercely for one person: his beloved wife, Y/N.

Y/N was the epitome of grace and beauty, with a kindness that melted even the most hardened of souls. She had captured Alastor's heart as soon as they had entered through the doors of the hotel, and he would do anything to keep her by his side. Having been newly wed, Alastor’s possessive nature seemed to rear its head often when it came to his bride. 

However, trouble brewed when Lucifer, the fallen angel and hellish king himself, began to take an seeming interest in Y/N. His smooth words and suave demeanor drew her attention, much to Alastor's dismay. Alastor’s confidence was shaken when Lucifer Morningstar began to show a keen interest in Y/N. Despite her loyalty to Alastor, Lucifer's suave demeanor and irresistible charisma stirred a jealousy deep within Alastor's demonic heart.

It has begun innocently enough, with Lucifer's smooth compliments and flirtatious gestures towards Y/N whenever they crossed paths. Then it turned to a hand atop hers or brushing hair out of her face while she worked on fixing up the hotel. At first, Alastor attempted to suppress his jealousy, masking his feelings with his trademark grin and witty remarks. But as Lucifer's advances towards Y/N became more pronounced, Alastor's facade began to crack.

One fateful evening, as the flames of Hell danced in the distance, Alastor found himself unable to contain his simmering jealousy any longer. He watched from a distance as Lucifer flirted shamelessly with Y/N, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

His once cheerful demeanor turned dark as he became increasingly passive-aggressive, making evil eyes at the short king(yes my dears, narrators can make a joke occasionally.) But still, Lucifer persisted in his advances, seemingly unfazed by Alastor's silent warnings. Y/N, momentarily stepping away at Charlie’s call for some assistance, left the two men alone in the lobby. 

“Well, well, if it isn't the charming Lucifer. Quite the show you're putting on tonight”

Lucifer smirked, “Ah, Alastor, always a pleasure to see you. And might I say, your wife looks positively radiant this evening. You picked a good one.”

Alastor forced a smile, a natural habit of his that was wearing on him. “Why, thank you, Lucifer. She does tend to have that effect, doesn't she? Though I must say, your interest in her appearance is unexpected.”

“Oh, Alastor, there's no harm in appreciating beauty when it's right in front of you. And your wife is truly a sight to behold.” Lucifer leaned closer, using his elbow to nudge Alastor in the ribs playfully; unaware of the brewing violence in the red demon before him. Or maybe he did know and elected to ignore it. Lucifer did get terribly bored. 

Alastor spoke firmly through clenched teeth “Indeed, she is. But I must warn you, Lucifer, my patience wears thin when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Just engaging in some harmless conversation. Does that bother you?

“Of course, how silly of me to assume otherwise.” Both men quipped back and forth so sarcastically it could've been considered the eight deadly sin. 

Returning from aiding the princess, Y/N resumed her place by Alastor’s side and back into the conversation. Unable to contain his jealousy any longer, Alastor put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and looked towards Y/N with a forced smile plastered on his face. "Darling, would you care for a stroll?" he offered, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

Y/N, oblivious to the turmoil raging within her husband, nodded with a smile and waved goodbye to Lucifer. As they walked through the dimly lit corridors of Hell, Alastor's mind seethed with anger and resentment. 

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Alastor halted abruptly and turned to face Y/N. "Tell me, my dear, what is it about Lucifer that captivates you so?" he demanded, his words laced with bitterness.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in Alastor's demeanor. "Alastor, what are you talking about? Lucifer is just being friendly," she protested, confusion etched on her face.

"Friendly? Yes, that's one way to put it. Though, his friendliness seems rather... focused, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N glanced at Alastor, sensing the tension in his voice. She attempted to defuse the situation with a reassuring smile.

Y/N: "Alastor, there's no need to worry. You know where my heart lies."

Alastor's smile tightened, his grip on Y/N's hand becoming just a tad too firm.

Alastor: "Of course, my dear. I'm well aware. But it's amusing, isn't it? How Lucifer seems to find you so... intriguing."

Y/N shot Alastor a puzzled look, sensing the underlying resentment in his words.

"Alastor, you're being awfully aggressive. Is something bothering you?"

Alastor's grin widened, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Lucifer.

Alastor: "Bothering me? Not at all, my dear. Just finding it fascinating how Lucifer can't seem to keep his eyes off you. Quite the dilemma, wouldn't you agree?

Alastor refused to be swayed by her words. With a fierce determination, he pulled Y/N flush to his chest and pushed her back against the wall, his grip possessive and demanding. Peering down into her eyes, his own glowed with a dark green hue. 

"I'll show you who the better man is, my dear," he growled, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity as he slammed his lips to capture hers. Moaning into the kiss, Y/N slowly brought her hands up to find themselves tangled in Alastor’s red locks. 

Trailing his hand up to her waist, Alastor gave it a tight squeeze that made his wife squeak. Chuckling at the reaction, both their lips remained interlocked for what seemed an eternity. Deciding she had enough teasing, Y/N grabbed hold of Alastor’s cane and used its shadows to transport them to their shared bedroom. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king sized bed and laid down on the red silken sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, Y/N wasted no time in relocking her lips back to her husband's. 

Nimble fingers traced up her waist, tugging softly on the waistband of her shorts before suddenly ripping them off of her body. Exposed to the cool air, Y/N let out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan as Alastor traced a knuckle up her clothed core. 

“Darling, tsk tsk. We haven’t even begun and you are drenching my fingers through these clothes.” Continuing to drag his finger across her pantie-clad slit, Alastor mumbled the words into the base of her neck. 

“Stop–fuck–stop teasing Al.”

“Oh but dear, that’s half the fun.” Despite his words, he obliged her request by removing the offending garment from her body.​​ Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering white gold slick that painted her hole. 

“Gorgeous darling, glittering gorgeous.” Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly here and there while delving as deep as his tongue would allow(he would not admit to using magic to make it longer), Y/N let out wanton moans and lewd hisses of pleasure. Gripping the sheets beneath her as her eyes remained shut in ecstasy. To make matters worse, or better depending on who you ask, Alastor inserted his finger into her while continuing to feast. He could see her holding back some of her noises, desperate to control her lust.

"Darling, do not hide from me."

"But normally you don't want people to hear--"

"That does not apply today. Let all of Hell and that filthy king know you are mine."

Stretching her open, he added another finger; scissoring her wide. Y/n’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body involuntarily shifted away from the overstimulating assault. Taking his other hand, Alastor placed it on her hip and held her in place. 

“Unless you would like to be restrained, I insist you remain in place.” Perking up at the thought, Y/N gulped. Being restrained by Alastor’s slick tentacles, forcing her legs open so he could do as he pleased; letting him use them to fill every hole piqued her interest. Perhaps for another time. 

The thoughts and stimulation from Alastor’s mouth and his fingers nearly had her cumming, mumbling incoherently for just a bit more to push her over the edge. Smirking, Alastor brought a third finger into her hole, its walls squeezing onto him for dear life. Using his thumb to rub against her clit, the stimulation was bearing nearly too much. 

“Go on Y/N. Tell me….tell me how I can only make you feel this good. That even the King of Hell couldn’t make you cum just from his fingers.”

That’s what did it, Y/N felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Alastor’s name. Surely, the whole hotel had heard her by now. Just as Alastor wanted. Cum now coated his fingers and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses and she saw stars. 

Drawing his fingers slowly out of her and bringing them to his lips, Alastor sucked on the white gold juices. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with arousal. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged her in on the bed and she could feel his growing bulge against her thighs, Alastor whispered darkly. 

“Now dear, feel like letting Lucifer know how good round two is about to feel?”

#romance #hazbin hotel fandom #answered #vizziepop #radio killed the video star #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor smut #smut writing #no plot whatsoever #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #Hazbin Hotel smut #jealous alastor #jealousy #take that depression #help me this fandom has a hold on my soul #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #the radio demon #radiostatic #radioapple #cursed cat alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer smut

[illyrianbitch]

Worth It

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: It can be hard to remember why you’ve put up with your best friends for centuries-- until they remind you why they're worth it.

Warnings: irritation cause of males? perhaps? friendship fluff. boys being boys aka bat boys are immature male dummies and reader is fed up.

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Are you guys idiots?”

Your voice was a loud bellow as you made your way into Rhysand’s office. From the look on your face, the three males quickly realized that their dirty little secret had been exposed– something that they were all expecting, Azriel being the first to mention that they hadn’t done a great job at hiding it. 

Sure, it was a silly idea for them to keep an ancient cursed object. Rhysand didn’t think it was real, when Cassian came running home and claiming he won it in a bet. The person seemed awfully enthusiastic to get rid of it, Cass had said, told me that it would change my life forever. Weird guy. It only took one interaction for Azriel’s shadows to instantly skitter from the small gold thing, whispering into Azriel’s ears like scared children. Cursed, old, evil, run. 

Rhysand was going to tell you that they kept it, to get a better idea of it, that's all, and that it just so happened to be sitting on the table near your room. He was. At least, he planned on it.

It was Cassian who made the first move, leaning to the side and lowering his head slightly to Rhysand. “This feels like a trick question,” he attempted to whisper, but the sound was loud enough to carry through the room.

You ignored him, instead glaring at the violet eyes that held your gaze. 

“You didn’t think to tell me about something this dangerous?”

“I just thought-”

“Thought what?” You asked him, mouth agape, “That you’d just lie to me about living with a deadly object?”

“We didn’t lie, we just didn’t tell you,” Cassian clarified innocently. He regretted his input once your stare met his and he quickly muttered out a small apology, looking to become as small as he could make his large form to be. 

“And thats better?”

Rhysand let out a deep breath. 

“Y/n, just calm down.”

Your head snapped to face him at a force that made him question how you hadn’t broken it. Rhysand’s eyes widened as they met yours, a sense of rage now flickering in your gaze. Azriel instantly grimaced at the words of his brother, his gaze meeting Cassian’s, whose eyes were wide as his mouth formed a small “oh.” Both males took a cautionary step backwards.

“Calm down?” you repeated, slowly stalking towards Rhysand with an icy calmness that made him instantly shrink.

“Well,” he started putting one palm out towards you, “I just mean that we should sit down and think rationally about this.”

“Think rationally?”

Rhysand looked over his shoulders in an attempt to seek some backup, but Cassian averted his gaze and Azriel simply shook his head. You’ve done it now, was what Azriel’s gaze seemed to say. His shadows curled around him, slithering up his body until they were peeking over his shoulders, alert and ready to watch— in amusement, it would seem.

Rhys nervously laughed.

“Can we start over?”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Compared to the others, your bedroom was extremely large, adorned with its own fireplace and seating area. But with the three Illyrian males standing around you, it felt quite cramped. You watched as they wandered around your room, picking up your stuff and throwing it to each other. This was your fault, of course, since you’d specifically asked for them to come. 

“Guys,” you said, “can we focus, please.”

The three males turned around to face you, all looking at you with wide stares and raised brows, as if they had been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. 

“Right,” Rhysand said as he balanced a small porcelain heart in his hand, a Solstice gift from Mor. He quickly glanced down at the object, eyes widening slightly before he turned his head and threw it in the air, effectively tossing it off to Cassian, who caught it with parted lips. 

“Dude.” 

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you walked forward.“Give me that,” you said as you ripped the item out of the males large, calloused hands. 

“I need one of you to help me make Landon jealous.” 

“Not it,” Rhys said, the words quickly tumbling out of his mouth as his hands flew up in surrender.

You stared at him blankly, your lips forming into a tight line.

“What?”

The line quickly turned into a scowl as you held his stare, a look of innocence on his beautiful features. 

“Am I truly that hideous you don’t want to help me out?”

“Oh, please,” Rhysand said with a dramatic scoff, “You know you’re hot. We know you’re hot. But It’s not my fault you can’t flirt normally. This is a perfect night for me to get some, so, I can’t.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms carefully, the porcelain heart safely in your grasp.

“Were the two guys from last night not enough?”

Instantly, a smug grin found its way onto Rhysand’s face. 

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, his voice low and sultry. A sense of pride clung to him. “I’m a growing male, I have a healthy appetite.”

From beside him, Cassian nodded with a grin, putting his knuckles out for Rhys to give him a fist bump. Azriel simply let out a small laugh and shook his head, eyes trained on you as you grimaced, your nose crinkled with a frown.

“You make it sound like you're eating them.”

Somehow, the grin grew, his pearly white teeth gleaming at you.

“Aren’t I?”

“You’re gross,” you responded, “I don’t want your help anyways.”

Rhysand let his mouth fall open in feign offense and you seized the moment to flip him off– a vulgar gesture that he instantly returned. Azriel and Cassian exchanged a glance.

“I got you, Y/n,” Cass finally said, walking up to you to wrap his arm around your shoulder. He pulled you into his embrace, looking down at you with a large, wolfish grin. You held his eyes for a moment, thinking about how well Cassian fit into your plans. A subtle sense of doubt crept into you, and once Cassian wiggled his eyebrows, you were done for. Your eyes instantly flickered to the last of your best friends.

“Az?”  Your voice was a soft plea, accompanied by a small, unsure smile that had Azriel sigh in defeat.

Cassian scoffed, pulling apart from you in an effort to see your entire face. “What? Why him?”

You gave a sheepish smile, your gaze bouncing between the three males before settling on him once more. “I love you, Cassian, but you won’t make him jealous.”

“And why not?”

It was Azriel who responded with a small snicker, “Because you’re easy.” 

Cassian’s mouth was open in shock as he registered the statement, his eyelids falling in soft blinks before he let out another scoff. 

“Well now I’m offended.”

“Don’t be,” Rhys said from across the room as he fell down on your couch, propping up his legs on the arms of it. “It means you’ve got a good game. Think about how many people you’ve fucked thats gotten you such a title. I mean the amount of puss-”

You let out a loud groan, pushing Cassian off you with a soft shove.

“Oh my Gods, we get it. You guys are slutty. Can we get back to me now? Please?” 

Your words were only met with a round of laughter. 

“And get your dirty shoes off my couch, Rhys.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“What the fuck happened to my cake?” You seethed, the words coming out bitter and sharp. The door slammed behind you as it collided with the wall, the impact of your entrance causing a dent in the surface. 

The boys visibly recoiled, Cassian flinching at the roughness of your voice, a voice that was usually comforting and soft. The three males exchanged wary glances, and then Rhysand was lifting his chin.

“I-” he started, only to be interrupted by a cough from Cassian, “We don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“My powdered sugar pound cake, Rhysand. I know you guys did something. Where is it? Did you eat it? Destroy it?”

Another beat of silence. You were sure your teeth were bound to break with the force of your clenched jaw, your teeth gritting harder with every minute spent looking at their avoiding eyes. 

“We didn’t touch your cake, Y/n.” 

You glared at Rhys, the apparent dedicated spokesmen of the three, and let out a harsh exhale. 

“There is powdered sugar on your hands!” You said, shoving an accusatory finger at them. "Right now!”

The males all simultaneously looked down at their hands, Cassian gasping in feign surprise– a sound so exaggerated you resisted the urge to hit him on the side of the head for the act alone. Rhysand was a bit more subtle, bringing his hands up to his face, examining them, and then tossing a casual shrug your way.

“This is completely unrelated powdered sugar.”

With a flare of your nostrils, you turned your head to face Azriel, who met your gaze with a small smirk on his face, of all things.

“And what's your excuse, Az?”

He shook his head. “Don’t have one.”

“So you admit you guys ate it?”

“I didn’t admit anything.”

You clenched your hands into fists, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. 

“Yes you did.”

Azriel’s eyebrow quirked, and then he was narrowing his eyes at you.

“Did I?”

“Yeah, Y/n, did he?” Cassian echoed, putting his hands on his hips.

Your nostrils flared as your gaze bounced between the three males. You wanted to take all three of their heads and knock them together, hope that one of them would produce a module of maturity. 

They braced themselves for an outburst, for you to run up to one of them and hit them in the face, if anything, but nothing came. Instead you looked away and shook your head. 

“Fuck you, guys. You suck. Gods.”

And you left. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You came to a halt as you turned the corner, now staring into the living room where your best friends stood shirtless next to one another, a determined look on their faces.

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

Rhys looked up with a grin. "We're settling a debate," he said, gesturing to the tape measure in his grip. "Gonna find out who's got the biggest wingspan."

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your finger up to your lips as you laughed.

"Want to place a bet?" Azriel said as he rolled his back, a small smirk on his lips.

Cassian flexed his wings behind him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he shook loose pieces of hair out of his face. "I'm pretty sure it's me," he boasted.

Rhys shook his head, his wings unfolding slightly as he stood up taller. "Not a chance," he countered. "I think you'll find mine's larger."

"What does wingspan really determine?" You asked incredulously.

You watched as all three males blinked, staring at you as if you had spoken in a tongue different than your own.

"Uh," Cass said, lifting a finger, "Absolutely everything, my dear, Y/n."

You rolled your eyes at him, but began walking to them in spite of yourself. When you found yourself in front of Rhysand, you looked up and put your palm out.

Rhys frowned, eyebrows furrowing at the outstretched hand.

"Well?" You said, raising your eyebrows. "For a proper assessment, you need a fair judge."

He grinned, enthusiastically shoving the tape measure into your palm.

"Alright boys," Rhys said, turning around to face his brothers, stretching his hands out as his wings extended behind him-- almost hitting you in the face. "Let's settle this."

One by one, your friends approached you, Rhysand with a grin, Azriel with a smirk, shadows pointed at the edge of his wings, and Cassian with a cheeky wink.

After all three had been measured, you stepped back, trying to hide your grin. "Looks like we have a winner."

Cassian puffed out his chest triumphantly. "I knew it!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Actually, Azriel's wingspan is slightly larger."

Cassian's face fell as Az let out a loud laugh in victory, shadows surrounding Cass like a mocking audience. He swatted them away with his hands.

Rhys chuckled, clapping Cassian on the back. "Looks like you'll have to concede this one, Cass. Being last place isn't so bad."

Cassian frowned. "Azriel cheated! His shadows held his wings up, I swear."

A snicker in response.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a sore loser."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

"Why do you look like that?"

You gasped in surprise, your hand flying to your heart as you turned to the source of the voice. Cassian stood in your doorway, casually leaning against the doorframe as he bit into an apple.

"Cassian!" You scolded, pushing your hair off your shoulder as you walked towards him. "You can't just come into my room and scare me like that!"

"Why not?" He said, mouth filled to brim with chewed apple bits.

You stared at his mouth with a frown, lifting your hand so that your nail could slightly scrape off a piece stuck to the stubble on his chin. Cassian gave you a smile as he finished chewing, wiping off his mouth with his free hand.

"Gross," you muttered. You shook off your hand before looking at him again, "And you just can't."

"Well I'm here, so, seems like I can."

You rolled your eyes, but Cass only smiled at the reaction.

"So why are you dressed like that?"

You frowned. "Like what?"

"Good. Like, hot.”

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned, your head tilting to the side as you gave him a blank stare "You sure know how to make me feel confident."

Cassian let out a laugh, placing a soft, large hand on your forearm. "No, no, you always look good. But where ya going?"

You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but before you could respond, Rhys appeared behind Cassian, curiosity written all over his face.

"What's happening?" He said as walked in, throwing himself onto your bed. He frowned as his eyes scanned you. "You look pretty. What's going on?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, realizing you were about to have an audience.

"Guys, get out," you said firmly. "I'm going on a date."

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a quick glance before both of the males broke out into large grins.

"Ooooh, a date?" Cassian teased, brushing past you to sit next to Rhysand on your bed.

"Yes, now get out."

You walked towards them, attempting to grab their hands and pull them up with the sheer force of will. Between your futile attempts, Azriel's voice sounded from the doorway. "What are we all doing in your room?"

You let out a loud groan. "Where do you guys keep coming from?"

You turned around to face him, hands on your hips and an annoyed frown on your lips. Just as his brothers did, Azriel's eyes scanned your appearance.

"You look good," he said. His shadows curled around his body, a few around his ear as the corners of his lips turned upwards. "You're going on a date?"

From behind you, Cassian and Rhysand broke out into a sound that you could only describe as a giggle, the grown males turning to one another to make theatrical kissing sounds.

"You guys are so annoying. Get out."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

There was a soft knock at your door.

You groaned, slipping yourself further into your covers.

The knock came once more and you closed your eyes, hitting the back of your head against your pillow. "Leave me alone!"

Much to your dismay, your protest was met with the sound of your door opening and a heavy set of footsteps approaching your bed. It only took a few seconds before your beige covers were being lifted off your face. You squinted at the light that met your eyes.

"Well, look who's alive."

You scowled as your eyes met Rhysand's violet ones, a large smile on his face as he hovered over you. There was a softness in his eyes that made you feel guilty for the expression, and the scowl quickly turned into a small frown.

As you pulled yourself upright, Rhysand made himself comfortable at the edge of your bed. "How you feeling?"

Your knew your eyes were puffy and sensitive from the crying you'd done all night. You were grateful it was Rhysand who sat in front of you, someone you weren't embarrassed to be seen in such a state with.

"I just got cheated on,” you murmured, rubbing your face with your hands. "How do you think I'm feeling?"

He sighed, a small frown on his lips as he urged you to scoot farther into the bed, making room for him to situate himself next to you. As he maneuvered, you caught sight of your bedside table, now decorated with a large bouquet of multicolored flowers, delicately wrapped in with a white bow. Next to it sat a small bear, its fur a white and blue pattern that perfectly matched that of the ceramic heart gifted to you from Mor.

"Are those for me?"

Rhysand quickly glanced over before giving you a nod.

"Yeah," he said, "The florist gave me a whole explanation for every flower. I told her that I wanted to g-"

Rhys stopped as he noticed your staring, eyes wide as you looked at him, lips curled down. "What?" he asked.

You felt your lip quiver, a small burn in your chest as you looked at him. Realization quickly flickered in his eyes--- realization that you were about to start sobbing.

"Don't make it a thing," Rhys said, staring at you blankly. But as your eyes began to well with tears, his facade quickly broke and he sighed, putting an arm around you and pulling you in. "I had to take care of my best girl, okay?"

Your nose tickled as the corners of your eyesight became blurry, a sudden pool of tears now at the corners of your eyes. "Thank you," you told him, as you burrowed yourself further into his embrace.

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to bathe in the comfortable silence. But a second quickly passed, and both you and Rhysand jerked at the sound of your door slamming into the wall.

"I'm here!" Cassian's voice boomed.

You blinked at the sight in front of you, Cassian's hair messily tied together atop of his head, his hands barely containing a pile of food assortments. His chin rested against 2 tubs of ice cream haphazardly stacked on top one another, his palms desperately grabbing onto a variety of chocolates, candies, bags of chips, and fruits.

His eyes met yours, instantly softening at your appearance. He gave you a smile. "Hey, beautiful. Nice to see ya."

"What you got there, Cass?" Rhys said, his head tilting as he closely scanned the pile his brother clutched to his chest.

"I got everything," he responded, eyes darting between you and Rhys. They settled on you as he continued, "I didn't know what you'd want."

You let out a laugh, your cheeks suddenly straining from the impact of your smile. Your face fell as you examined his haul, your brows furrowing as you pointed to a small plastic bag.

"Are those... pads?"

Cassian attempted to look down, but the ice cream containers beneath his chin constricted his movements. "I'm not sure, the lady at the store said you probably needed them with everything I was buying."

Rhysand let out a snort at this, his hand affectionately rubbing up and down your bicep. You smiled as Cassian shuffled to your couch, carefully dropping the ideas on your cushions, and then moving to place the rest on the table.

"Hey," you said with a frown, "Wheres Az?"

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance.

"What?" You asked, looking between the two males. "Where is he?"

Cassian gave you a sheepish smile and then Rhys was laughing, a deep sound that you felt as his chest moved beneath you.

"Where do you think? He's beating the shit out of Landon."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

oh how nice it would be to live with the batboys with the vibes of new girl 😌 (until they do something stupid)

a/n: i’m slowly getting all my drafts and requests out 🫶🏻

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader fluff #azriel x reader fluff #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader fluff #batboys x you #batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel fanfic #cassian fanfic #rhysand fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

[superluver]

What was in the bag? G.S.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Wife!Reader

wc: 1516 | cw: Gojo is annoying, fem!Reader, Married, Pre established couple, mentions of bounty&death, FLUFF

Description: Gojo's students meet his wife without knowing it's his wife. Spoiler alert, they think you're his mom.

STARTING HERE

You weren’t really a secret per se.. more of underwraps.

Married to Satoru Gojo, strongest man alive in modern times, you were kind of on the radar for multiple things. Bounty’s on your head reaching over 600 million yen, though they’ve never actually gotten you.

And your daughter, it’s even worse. The highest you’ve heard of was 1 Billion yen, but as Satoru always tells you, he wouldn’t have married someone unable to take care of themselves. You were strong on your own, sure, not a special grade, but a high Grade 1.

You were more than capable of taking care of your family.

“Sora, ready to go?” You coo at her, looking down at her. She babbles in responde, kicking her legs and thrusting them up and down. It’s quite funny.

You are wearing a big hat, large sunglasses and a mask, your 5 month old daughter only wearing the hat and glasses. Her body facing your chest.

A large, garbage bag sits at the door. You recall Satoru texting you to bring it to the school because he forgot it, so with a sigh, you take it in your hand.

It’s heavy, but not unbearably so.

You embark on your journey to the school, which was only about two miles away if you walked, so it was nothing. The only thing concerning you at the moment would be the summer heat beating down on the two of you, wondering if it would be too hot for the small child, but you push on.

“Okay Sora, you have to be good.” You tell her, her big blue eyes staring into yours as you slip on her small glasses. Her hands go up to her face, trying to take them off, but you stop her. That’s when she begins to whine.

“Sora,” you sigh, pressing the hat further down your head. You want to chuckle at her pouty face, her white hair curling over the rim of her small sun hat. You step out of the house into the sun, the large trash bag in your hand. “We’re going to see Papa, but you need to be a good girl.” You tell her, your free hand patting her back, her front pressed onto you from the carrier she’s strapped to that brings you two together.

Immediately, her small whines stop. She looks up at you, her mouth slightly open. “Yes, your papa is at work, and we will visit him.” You tell her in a higher pitch, and she begins to babble out of happiness once more.

It’s been about thirty minutes, Sora taking a nap and you still holding the trash bag. You gain many stares, but you don’t seem to care.

Behind you, someone creeps up. You can feel an immense amount of cursed energy from him, causing you to tense up, and you’re sure Sora can feel it too as she begins to whine again.

“Excuse me?” The person begins, and you assume the person behind you is male from their tone. To turn around, eyebrows furrowed and free hand to your baby's head, pressing her further into you.

“You seemed to be struggling with the bag, so I—” he stammers, and you really look at him. No evil intentions, but that dangerous cursed energy coming from him alarms you.

He’s got pink hair, and a very child-like face. His hand is at the back of his head, scratching awkwardly. You take notice of his uniform, and all that tenseness dissipates. “Are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer?” You ask him, and his eyes go wide.

He shakes his head, hands thrown up. “No-! No, no! I’m— a student! From Sendai, I’m on my way to school!”

You deadpan, he’s clearly lying. Raising an eyebrow, you scoff, “Sendai? What are you doing here in Tokyo. And anyway,” you glance at his uniform, the head holding Sora’s head presses on one of the gold buttons, “I know a Jujutsu Sorcerer’s uniform when I see one. No need to lie, I’m one too.” You confess, finger to your lips(though they’re covered by the mask) like you just told him a secret.

“O-oh! I feel a little embarrassed now..” he tells you bashfully.

“Are you a first year?”

He blinks, nodding slow. “Yeah, I am.”

“Great! Where is Satoru Gojo?” You ask him, and again, he blinks. “I think… he went to get some dessert.”

You groan, readjusting your hat further down.

He leans down, taking the bag from you before stumbling from its weight.

‘She was carrying this!?’

He smiles, re-adjusting it in his hold, then thanking God for his strength.

“If it’s too heavy you can leave it on the ground.” You grumble, sitting under a tree on the stone ledge that surrounds it. The two of you sit under the shade, and Sora, now fully awake, is kicking her legs out. You pull her from the carrier, still facing you, you bounce her on your knee.

The two of you still adorned in your heavy disguises as another person comes by. A girl, wearing a Jujutsu Uniform, brown hair— though clearly dyed— cut into a cute bob. You chuckle, it reminds you of Shoko.

“What’s taking you so long— OHMYGOD!?” She shouts, staring at you. You probably scared her.. you think, but when she steps to you, kneeling to you and asking if you were a celebrity, sweat drops.

“Hm?”

“I'm asking if you’re a celebrity. A model? Maybe an actress.”

You find yourself laughing, shaking your head at her antics. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“A singer! See you have a very nice voice.”

Your head tilts, confused with a hint of embarrassment— though you end up laughing it off— it seems they don’t know who you are.

Sora, still in your arms, is again pressing her hands to her face, knocking her glasses off.

The girl, which you still haven't learned her name, bends down, picking up her glasses and when she leans back up, she sees Sora, looking down at her. Her big blue eyes staring back into the sorceress’ brown ones.

“Holy shit.” She murmurs, wordlessly giving you back her glasses. You stare puzzled, watching as she stands up and walks back to the other boy.

“That— that woman is Gojo’s MOM! She must've been hit by a curse that takes her to the future, because the baby she’s holding is a literal baby Gojo!” Nobara informs Yuuji in whisper, who shakes his head at her.

“No way,” he glances back at you and Sora, who is now tearing off her head revealing her snow white hair. She blinks at him, showcasing her beautiful eyes— identical to his teacher's— and he gapes.

“See! I told you!” She whispers back.

What they don’t realize is that their teacher is looming over them. “What’re you two whispering about?” He asks with a teasing grin, his hands in his pockets, around his arm is a paper bag of Kikufuku.

“Your mom!” Yuuji and Nobara tell him, pointing to the disguised woman. They still haven’t seen her face, but the baby was enough evidence for them.

Megumi stares at them like their idiots, even worse when he watches what his teacher and caretaker does next.

He glances at the woman, then smiling. “Mommy!” He shouts, walking up to her with a wave.

You look up and frown. His students stare at the supposed reunion with him and his mother, his hands to your face pulling off your glasses, then your hat, then ripping your mask off. The three are unable to see your face, though Megumi already knows what you look like.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, then one to the top of the Sora’s head. Still, his students can’t see your face, but their faces are disgusted. “What the hell do you do with your mom?” They asked, Megumi glancing at them like they were stupid.

Satoru laughs, “That’s the beautiful Mommy of my child,” he tells them, watching them go from relaxed to pure shock.

“WHAT YOU DIDN’T TELL US?! AND YOU HAVE A KID?!"

“NO ONE KNEW?!”

“Megumi knew!” Satoru chirps, and the boy’s friends turned to him. “You knew he was married and didn’t say anything.”

“That guy has nothing to do with me.” Megumi tells them, rolling his eyes at his friends interrogating him.

They’re extremely loud, loud wnough to the poiny where tou’re getting embarrassed.

“Excuse me?” You speak up, and they all turn to you. Your face on full display, and this causes them to gape further. “Could you guys be just a little bit more—”

“HOW DID YOU BAG THAT GOJO-SENSEI?!” Nobara asks, pointing at you them him.

He laughs, throwing his head back at the chaos.

Megumi shakes his head, and you stand up, Sora back in the carrier. You take Megumi and walk off with a sigh, still able to hear their screams in the distance along with Satoru’s laughter.

“What was in the bag?” Megumi asks in a disinterested tone.

You, looking ahead, think about it before shrugging.

“No clue.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo x wife reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojou x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo married

[writingoddess1125]

okay okay JC hear me, what about Alucare and Vivian interaction ?

Oh I like this! EVIL SMILE 😈 I like this a lot

Oh Hell No-

For just 10c a day you can help a starving author, that's less then a cup of Ko-fi

Shanks, Mihawk x Reader + Alucare, Vivian

Check out the Old Man Series

It had been a exhausting month out to sea, Shanks insisting the crew go to the grandline. Paired with also having Vivian start training to be a pirate like him-

She didn't object to this, her eyes still following her inspiration of Luffy. She worked hard, Went out to assist the crew and learn the ways of the ship and of being a pirate. Much to everyone's surprise however was the two skills she had picked up- Sharp Shooting and Gambling.. Shanks wasn't too thrilled about either however he couldn't lie he was impressed- She had taken up to learning from Yassop on guns while naturally able to win a lot of card games from the crew and walk away with heavy pockets.

Making port in a small Village to do some basic restocks Vivian traveled off to explore the peer. Deciding to spend some of her winnings-

Vivian was blown away, seeing such a pretty guy standing there at the docks. He was older then her by a bit, he had lovely dark hair tied in a low ponytail and dressed in dark clothes ment for training. However it was his eyes- She could see his eyes from there, bright yellow like gold. A feeling of warmth hit her cheeks and chest as she stared- However he must have felt it since he began to look around with a scowl on his face, Vi quickly walking away to pretend she hadn't been staring at the teenager. Her face she was sure was as red as her hair-

"Don't travel far Vi!" Shanks called out, Even though he knew she had a small pistol that Yassop had gifted her. She kept his words in mind and went around the pier to explore, buying a few snacks and so on till a flutter of black caught her eye- Turning to see a smaller sea vessel and a boy standing infront of it like he was impatiently waiting.

"Well I'll be damned- Is that Hawkeye?" Shanks said, Snapping Vivian from her spying fantasy to look up at her father.

"Ah there you are Vi-" Shanks called out as he walked back towards his daughter and saw her red face. Raising a brow at her red face, going to speak on it till his eyes caught the teen still glancing around.

"You know him?" She said softly, Shanks however looked confused as he stared at the teen. Waving for her to stay put while he walked forward to the teen and the sea vessel.

Shanks shook Alucare's hand and smiled at the young man-

Vi watched from afar, It seemed the two talked briefly before the teen headed back to the sea vessel. Returning with two adults, a clearly pregnant women and a tall man looking like the teen but older and with weird facial hair and short hair.

Shanks spoke with the tall man before he waved Vivian over.

"This is 'Hawkeye' Mihawk a old friend of mine, and This is Vi my daughter" Shanks said proudly, Mihawks eyebrows raising at hearing this and stared at Vivian, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"It's nice to meet you Vivian" Mihawk said calmly, (Y/N) however smiled brightly and shook the young lady's hand.

"It's very lovely to meet you Vivian, Shanks" She said calmly and Alucare nodded as well giving a fast greeting to the child.

"It's nice to meet you Vivian" He said as he shook her hand politely- The girl barely able to mutter the words in return as she looked nervous. The teen quickly releasing her hand and offering it to the older red head.

"Nice to meet ya, Damn you look just like your father" He said with a laugh, truthfully he felt a odd clench in his chest since Alucare looked like Mihawk when Roger's died.

"Well since we are all here, why don't we go to the pub near by, I hear they also have good food so it shouldn't be an issue" Shanks suggested with a happy smile, you of course agreeing at this and thinking it would be nice. Mihawk and Alucare giving similar sighs and nodding in agreement-

"This here is the rest of my crew-" Shanks introduced with a smile- Alucare being silent but polite, That was till he saw Ben Beckman and heard his name, Glancing back to his father with pleading eyes that read 'please say no-' But all Mihawk did was nod silently making the teenager deflate slightly. Deciding that keeping his mouth shut was the best option-

A short journey back to Shanks Ship he gathered his crew to all venture to the pub and of course they were familiar with Mihawk but gave sweet introductions to (Y/N) and Alucare.

Shanks set down his drink as his eyes focused, seeing how Vivians cheeks were red, her eyes sparkling and the way she nervously fiddled with her hair. You catching this and seeing her like this as well and how she smiled so awkwardly around Alucare who was clearly seeing this in more of a babysitting light-

Once all introductions were done the pirates filed inside, it didn't take long for drinks to be poured and food to be served. Vivian being seated to a unamused Alucare who seemed to passively be listening to her as she tried to start conversation.

Your eyes wondered around at seeing the drunk patrons, it wasn't like you were in a current condition to drink yourself so the food was your comfort. But you couldn't help but glance to your son every now and again- Shanks also following you gaze.

"Aw, She must have a little crush on Alu" You say with a giggle, Mihawk looking up from his glass at hearing this- his hand still on your lower back to keep you steady from some invisible force.

Shanks whole body seemed to bristle at this voiced notion taking another hard drink of ale.

"No, Vivian is far too... she's-" He stared harder, that's when he saw it. She tucked her own hair behind her ear shyly- he knew that move too damn well it was the one her mother used to do when trying the flirt and a move that lead to Vivians creation paired with other moves much later on.

"Oh Hell No!-" Shanks all but roared. Mihawk smirking into his drink.

This was bound to be entertaining-

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x shanks #op mihawk

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

They'll Never Shut Up (Take It All series) - Max Verstappen

The final part

Current/Ex!Lewis (also massive age gap)

Summary: Lewis dating a woman in her early 20s was controversial, but he promised her nothing would ruin what they had. What he didn't expect was for the Dutchman who took his title to take his girlfriend.

This is for the girls who love a bit of controversy and definitely love a bit of villain!Max

Part 1 - When I Speak. He Listens.

Part 2 - So I'm The Villain

Part 3 - No Point in Fixing It

Part 4 - Winners Always Win

Pre-season testing after a winter break of being in absolute awe of each other. Y/n didn't care about the hate, she didn't ignore it but when it felt like she was being weighed down by it. She hardly had to open her mouth for Max to say something to reassure her and while he never directly addressed the topic like she'd asked of Lewis.

Despite him and y/n being quite public in their relationship and it being obvious that the f1 community has labelled her as a gold-digging clout chasing wannabe.

However, there was some joy over the fact that Max wasn't with Kelly. And some amusement that the girlfriend he's followed up with is another stolen woman from another driver. There's just an argument of who initiated the transition of y/n dating Lewis to y/n dating Max. Was it her evilly ambitious ways to get the best? Or was Max on a mission to prove anything Lewis can have he can have too?

Some people just didn't care. They don't like Max and they certainly didn't like y/n with Lewis. The two of them together is a perfect set up of evil and disgusting in their eyes.

"How do the car feel?" Y/n asks eagerly since she knows that 2023 was a history making season for Max and Red Bull.

"It's good, but time will tell how it performs in a race and against the rest of the field." Max sighs making her smile lightly before nodding at him. "How's the rest of the field looking in your eyes?"

Y/n was a fan of f1 before dating the drivers who race in it. She also has some technical knowledge that Max has learned over the winter break and he's fairly impressed by it all. It'd only made him fall harder.

"They definitely don't look quite as good as you out there. But maybe I have some bias when I say that." Y/n shrugs with a smile while Max laughs a little then placing his helmet over her head playfully. "Hey!"

He knocks the visor down then laughing again when she pokes him in the ribs before he lifts the visor again.

"You're going to-" She doesn't get the word out before pausing when he lifts the helmet off of her. "-mess up my hair."

"You look beautiful with any hair...style." Max states clearly uncertain he can call her messed up hair a style.

Y/n smiles as she finds herself lifted up and carried over to the pit wall where Max wants to talk to Christian and GP but also have y/n by his side. So she's literally held there.

Though while somewhat tuning out the very technical stuff, she glances over at the Mercedes garage which has Lewis looking out at her. His expression looks hurt more than angry.

They haven't spoken since she left him in Vegas. Though he made some fairly public bitter comments about his recent relationship ending. Though her lack of appearance in the public eye apparently made it harder for him to accuse her of clout chasing or using him for fame.

Y/n redirects her gaze to Max who notices her turning back to him, not having noticed her spotting the older man in the rival garage, and he closes the space to kiss her softly before he continues speaking to the team principal and his race engineer.

-

Y/n going into this season feels safe.

Sure last season I had started dating Lewis a few races into he season. Having made things official during the cancellation of the Imola race due to the flooding.

Sky Sports has, of course, condemned both her and Max for their blatant affair. But Max has made the statement obvious that there was no cheating ever on the table. Though even I have to admit maybe not physically but certainly emotionally I cheated on Lewis.

Had he not spoken to me in the end the way he did, I might even feel inclined to apologise and admit my fault. But he gave me no respect then and I see no reason why I should show him any now. Y/n thought to herself.

"You know I love the fact that the season kicks off with a night race and follows up with another night race...aren't night races just the best?" Y/n asks making Max chuckle.

"I'm beginning to sense that you like night races." Max teases earning an eye roll. "They are some of the best in the season."

"Bahrain...Jeddah....then over to Australia." Y/n lists dreamily and Max can't help but comment.

"Australia isn't a night race."

"I know. But...it was a pretty chaotic race last year. I don't know if it will be again, but one can hope." Y/n states while Max grimaces at the memory of last year in Australia. It was a disaster from beginning and especially to the end.

"You're going to be at every race." Max declares making her smile almost bashful and nod. "I want you there."

"I want to be there. It's going to be fun." Y/n declares mainly for herself since all she wants is to be here with her boyfriend who makes her feel like dating him in a crime or like she has to dress up to his standard.

After all, Lewis and Max are quite opposite in their out of team fashion. Max wears any t-shirt he can find that is usually just gifted to him. But they make for the most entertaining outfits and there's no pressure to dress up to some standard he sets. Unintentionally or not.

Things are good. Max is a source of happiness and stability. Despite Lewis saying Max would get bored, the longer they've been together the closer and more perfect things have got. Sure things might change when the season really kicks off, but right now things look positive and she is focused on the here and now. Not the future and forever, even if that looks pretty positive too.

#f1 #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max f1 #Max Verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #mv1 x you #mv1 fic #mv1 fanfic #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv1 #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x y/n #mv33 x you #red bull #red bull f1 #red bull racing

[mooncleaver]

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

#me when i write about anything other than percy jackson #very nervous tbh #making this when i couldn't find fics with similar tropes was lowkey a cunty move #namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor of talokan #namor the sub mariner #namor mckenzie #namor imagine #black panther wakanda forever #black panther #mcu shuri #shuri #namor fluff #tenoch huerta #talokan #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #NEED TO STOP LISTENING TO JUDAS TO THIS MAN LIKE #marvel x reader #namor angst #namor x queen reader

[ckret2]

Chapter 40 of human Bill Cipher, in spite of his fondest hopes, still being stuck in the Mystery Shack:

As much as Gideon wants out of the evil magic game, the survival of his father's used car dealership rides on Gideon's help.

And, relatedly, Bill's started receiving psychic car commercials.

1981

Ford had been in his study for what felt like forever, staring at the pile of papers and numbers on his desk, trying to stop the figures from shifting and swimming before his eyes; when something from behind him lit up the dim room with golden light and he a heard a familiar voice behind his shoulder—

"Heeey, Stanford! You've been having a lot of dreams about tax forms lately, what gives?"

Ford was startled out of his thoughts. He turned around, smiling in relief. "Oh, Bill! Hello." Apparently he was dreaming. Thank goodness. It explained why he couldn't seem to get these forms to make sense. "How long have you been watching me?"

"About twenty years."

"What?"

"About twenty minutes," Bill said. "I wasn't going to bug you tonight, but usually your dreams are a little more adventurous! You're starting to worry me, kid." He disintegrated the tax forms with a gesture and floated down to sit on Ford's desk, like a razor-thin glowing paperweight. It was strange to see him cross his legs. "What's on your subconscious?"

Ford hadn't thought his Muse cared that much about his day-to-day human troubles. It was comforting to know someone was worrying about him—someone so far beyond human potential that maybe Ford didn't have to worry he'd be disappointed to learn Ford was struggling a little. "It's my grant money," he sighed. "I feel like my research into Gravity Falls is nowhere near completion, but that money will only last for so long. It won't be long before I'll need to ask for more funding, and I'll have a hard time convincing anyone if I don't have anything to show for it, but I don't want to share incomplete research..."

"Ah, money. The second-worst curse human society's ever inflicted on itself."

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

Ford barked a laugh. It wasn't even that funny a joke; it was just such unexpectedly human cynicism for such an otherworldly entity. It sounded like a joke Ford's dad would make.

"Well, money. What to do..." Bill drummed his fingers on Ford's desk, gazing off into the distance as he thought. Ford realized that, at some point while he was distracted, most of his study had vanished, leaving his desk and chair sitting precariously atop a faint gridded plane in the starry blue void where he usually met Bill. Finally, Bill said, "Have you considered buying gold?"

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

"Hmm." Bill thought a moment longer, then snapped his fingers. "Got an idea." He floated off of Ford's desk to eye level, strange sigils appearing in white-blue light around him. "Do you happen to know where the people who decide your funding live?"

"Er... the general area." It had to be near the Backupsmore campus, didn't it?

"Then I might be able to help you!" The symbols solidified around Bill. "I know a little spell to help persuade people. It'll let you plant ideas in their dreams—give 'em a little subliminal nudge. It could make some bigwigs come around on the importance of the research you're doing out here."

A fascinating concept. Ford studied the sigils greedily. He didn't recognize them, but they looked fairly simple. "You're not... talking about mind control?"

"Nah, that's not in my wheelhouse. It'll just let you... talk to them! Like I talk to you! I'm not controlling you, am I?" His eye curved up in a facsimile of a smile. "But you'll find most people have a harder time ignoring you when you're talking to them inside their own heads. What they do with that when they wake up is up to them. Just think of it as a way to schedule an interview where you'll have their undivided attention."

Ford pressed his lips together as he thought; then shook his head. "Thank you, Bill, but no. I wouldn't feel right earning money that way. I'd rather know they were impressed by the scientific and historical value of my work—and if I use magic, I'll never know for sure if they really thought my work measured up."

Bill laughed. "That's what I like about you, Stanford! You really shoot for the stars—and you've got the work ethic to get there! You don't want the fame and fortune unless you earn it!"

Ford was momentarily taken aback. It was rare that his muse openly complimented him; on most nights he dealt with Ford with a sort of cool, detached fondness, something a little too distant to be real affection. When he did voice his approval, it was like the sun coming out after a month of cloud cover. There were nights, when Ford was really feeling his isolation in these woods and he'd half convinced himself all his years of research had been a waste of time, when he was half willing to chase that sunshine to the ends of the earth.

"You'll do whatever it takes to finish your research, won't you?" Bill asked.

Ford gave Bill an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Of course I will. How could I not?"

"Hey, not everyone has your ambition! Most people take the easy way to the top. Cheating, copying, riding on greater men's coattails... Some guys earn the dough to buy their gold, others just want to dig for someone else's." Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, it was an idea." The sigils started to fade.

Ford raised a hand. "Hold on. I don't want to use it, but... do you think I could learn that spell anyway?" He smiled hopefully. "For research?"

"For fun?"

"For fun."

Bill laughed. "I was waiting for you to ask!" The sigils reappeared, and next to them appeared an incantation. "All right, I'll walk you through it. Pay attention, I don't think you've got enough time to go over it twice this REM cycle."

Ford nodded, focusing fully on Bill, determined to remember the spell well enough to record it in Journal 2 when he woke up.

####

Spring, 2013

Tentatively, Bud Gleeful said, "Son... now, I know you lost that spooky grimoire of yours. But... don't you have anything left that might help out the dealership?"

Gideon growled in irritation. "I told you, father! Everything I knew was in Journal 2! It's gone! Anyway, I'm just trying to be a normal kid now. I don't want to get mixed up in any more magic. I'm through with it."

"I understand," Bud said, nodding. "And I think that's mighty admirable of you, turning over a new leaf like that. Shows real maturity." He hesitated, wringing his hands together. He pre-emptively winced and said, "But it's just that... business hasn't exactly been booming, ever since your little tenure as Bill's sheriff. And you know I love the fellas you made friends with in the penitentiary, they're all such... colorful characters; but having them hang around does make folks a little wary to drive into the parking lot..."

Volume doubling, Gideon snapped, "Are you saying it's my fault?!"

"No, son, no. You know I'd never." Bud knelt down, and—cautiously, like he was trying to pet a feral cat—put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "But, well... business is slumping, that's all. We'll be fine as long as we live within our means, don't you worry about that—but our means might not cover luxuries like those fancy suits and fine new boots you like so much, you understand."

Gideon lowered his gaze, tugging self-consciously on the sleeve of his favorite suit jacket. It was already just a little too short to be fashionable; he probably didn't have long until he outgrew it completely.

"Your mother and I are doing all we can," Bud said. "If there's anything you can do... well, you don't have to, of course. But—it'd be a mighty big help."

Gideon grit his teeth, glaring at his feet. (How long until he outgrew all his shoes? He had a growth spurt coming "any day now," he'd been told. The prospect didn't excite him.) He balled his hands into fists; and then muttered, "There... might be one spell I remember... the sigils were pretty simple..."

####

June 2013

Bill could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for his mother to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—

"STOP!" His mother howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room. She didn't bend up. He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her thin body as things broke and ruptured. He didn't know what to do.

And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, and he couldn't remember.

At least, he couldn't have remembered a few weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to. But he'd been studying a book on lucid dreaming since then; and the first things it taught was how to remember more of his dreams. And now, he recalled exactly what happened next when he pushed his mother and she splintered and ruptured:

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth. 

"You want me to tell everyone the third dimension's full of dead shapes?! Huh?!" All he could see was blood and bone and peeling skin. "Then why don't you go find them for me!" He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

He let go and jolted back, gasping—and almost retched. What had he done? He hadn't meant to. But he'd kept pushing—but it was too late by then. It was too late by then, wasn't it?

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

The green trapezoid looked as sick as Bill felt, eye darting in horror across the crumpled line in the corner. He couldn't even see most of it from where he was—his eye didn't work like Bill's, he couldn't look through the mess of skin to the gore beneath.

"It was an accident," Bill whispered. (He'd kept pushing.) "It really was, I promise."

His father tore his eye from the corpse to Bill's face. "What are we going to tell your followers?"

Bill looked past his father. Through a wall so thin Bill almost couldn't see it, hundreds upon hundreds of shapes were settled, waiting—to see him. He was sure: somehow, somehow, they could see him too. They knew what he'd done. His life was over.

A thunderous voice boomed, "Whooee, what a fix! Boy, you look like you could use a getaway car, couldn't you?"

Bill blinked. He blinked again. He looked up-but-not-north.

A human in a pink Hawaiian shirt, standing on top of the universe, looked down at him.

Bill said, "What."

"Here, let me just—getcha right—" The human plunged his hand through the second dimension, scooped beneath Bill, and popped him right up off the surface of the universe. "Now, if you'll pardon my saying so, you look like you could use a little help getting somewhere far, far away from here!"

Bill stared at him. "What."

"And I've got just the thing to help you!" the human declared. "Aren't you feeling stuck? Trapped? Just can't take your obligations anymore? Miserable you can't hit the road and see all of—well—" he gestured vaguely out at the flat surface of the universe stretching into the distance "—whatever this is? Then you need to visit your buddy Bud Gleeful—(that's me)—at Gleeful's Auto Sales, the finest used car dealership in Roadkill County! We'll get you a set of wheels that'll carry you on the cross-country police-evading tour of your dreams!" He dropped his voice and murmured to Bill from behind his hand, "Warranty expires at the state line."

"What." Bill looked down at the universe—and was disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't a triangle anymore, but a human. He looked at Bud again. "Are you advertising to me. Is this an advertisement. Am I getting advertised to in my sleep."

"And if you sign before you leave, we'll throw in a free air freshener," Bud added.

Bill stared at him in horrified amazement. "I am going to kill you," he said. "And then I'm going to wake up and kill you in real life."

"Ah, well. That's a right shame."

####

Bill shot straight up with a roar of rage. "Oh, when I get my hands on...!"

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

Bill whirled around with a murderous glare. Dipper's spirit, ghastly and pale, was hovering in the middle of the attic. Bill snapped, "You're a bad dream!" He scrambled after the spirit.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dipper tried to swoop away from Bill toward the stairs.

Bill caught him by the back of the neck. "You are going back in your bo—bed, you're getting in, and you're not getting back out."

"Ow, let go!" Dipper squirmed in Bill's grip, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just going to turn off the TV! I heard it playing an advertisement, I think that's what put me in... you know." He gestured at himself. "The sleepwalking dream."

Bill hesitated in front of the kids' door. "What advertisement?"

"I don't know, it was too far away to tell. But I know it was an advertisement, it sounded... advertise-y."

"Hmm." Bill considered that. And then he flung Dipper's soul through the door.

"HEY!"

"I'll turn off the TV," Bill said. "Go back to sleep!"

Ugh. Everything ached, his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out in an attempt to escape and go forage for food independently, and the world held a vindictive grudge against Bill personally. He trudged downstairs, muttering crabbily to himself.

He wasn't surprised to discover the TV was off.

####

"I'm conducting a survey," Bill said. "Did you hear any advertisements from the TV last night? Maybe have any dreams that might have been influenced by hearing an ad?"

"Uh..." Soos slowed at the bottom of the stairs as he thought. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Interesting." He waved at Melody to try to catch her attention. "Hey, how about you?"

"Nope!" Already dressed for work, she hurried from the stairs to the living room without even glancing Bill's way. She tended not to linger when he was nearby. He told himself he was flattered.

"Dude," Soos said, "What happened to your arm?"

Bill looked down. On the underside of his forearm were two thick lines set at an angle, burned so dark brown they were nearly black. "Leaned on the stove after someone used the burner. Oops."

"Do you need...?"

"Don't worry about it, it's already healing." Bill rolled down his hoodie's sleeves as he leaned into the kitchen, "How 'bout you, Stan? Hear any phantom ads last night?"

"Nuh-uh. But I sleep with my hearing aids out," Stan said. "The only things loud and grating enough to wake me are a car horn or your voice."

"Ha!" Bill looked from Stan's side of the table to Ford's—and Ford wasn't facing him, but he was glancing from the corner of his eye toward Bill's arms.

Bill turned away without asking anything. No point. Obviously, Ford had been too far underground to have picked up anything. Bill told himself Ford was seething at getting the cold shoulder.

"What're we talking about?" Mabel asked, coming downstairs with Dipper close behind.

Bill looked at her—and then let his gaze sweep past her with the same cold disinterest he'd favored Ford with. He brushed past her to head upstairs. "Hey, somnambulist." He shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes as he passed. "TV was off. No one else heard anything. You dreamed your stupid ad."

"Hey." Dipper pulled his hat back up. "Jerk."

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

Bill was curled up in the attic window seat, flipping covetously through an issue of Gold Chains For Old Men; at the sound of Mabel's irritated voice, he merely said, "Oh, hello." He turned another page. "Here to try to make a fool of me some more?"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Bill, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me about those 'Mysteries' of yours. Did you plan your story any deeper than that? Were you going to arrange for me to catch you with a cloak and dagger just to make me wonder?"

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

"So how many people were in on it, huh? Was it just you and Stanford, or did you have the whole house laughing at me behind my back?"

"It—it was just us two." She leaned on the wall by Bill's feet. "Um, so... are you actually mad?"

He shot her a venomous look, then lifted his magazine so he couldn't see her any more.

"Come on!" She poked his knee. "It was a harmless prank! And you lie to everyone all the time."

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Bill said indignantly. "I'm proud. I have pride. And lately pride's about the only thing I have going for me. And I didn't think a friend would try to undermine it."

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Okay, all right. Sorry."

Bill lowered his magazine to peer at her skeptically. "Are you really?"

"Well, yeah." She leaned against the window seat. "It was just a joke, I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He stared her down a moment longer, assessing her sincerity. And then he sat up and pulled her into a hug.

She squawked in surprise, but returned the embrace. "Bill! What—?"

"You're sweet, you know that, star girl?" He gave her one last squeeze and let her go. "When you aren't trying to make me look dumb. But you don't rub salt in the wounds, that's what matters."

"Pfff. I kinda think you'd try to kill me if I did."

"Mmyeah, I might." He wouldn't. Only person in this entire dull rotten world who was willing to apologize for wronging him. He wasn't giving her up easily. "Hey—did you happen to hear any commercials last night? Maybe have any dreams that might've been caused by one?"

"Nope! I had a dream about cats fighting a war against an octopus."

"Oh, that one. Did the octopus win or did the lions show up in time?"

Mabel paused. "It's always creepy when you do that. But the octopus won this time."

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

"I tried to get between the octopus and the town when the cats failed."

"Did you stop it?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. I woke up before it reached me."

"Too bad! But hey—you've been making big progress with your lucid dreaming. You'll get it next time!" No salesmen offering cars as war chariots for the cats, though. It was almost a pity. Bill would've liked to hear about Bud getting eaten by a giant octopus.

"So I guess Dipper was the only one who thought he heard a commercial."

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

The large, empty floor room, down the main hallway at the far end of the house, was among the few places Bill was allowed to go. Except when the humans had some big event like a dance or a museum exhibit planned, there was nothing in it but a flat old sofa, a fireplace he couldn't turn on, and Soos's electric piano taunting him. In spite of its relative isolation from the rest of the household, Bill rarely had reason to visit it.

But when he wanted space to pace and think, there was no better room.

Last night's advertisement was magic, no doubt. And he suspected he knew the exact spell. The Mystery Shack was way on the outskirts of Gravity Falls; probably nobody else here was affected because they were just out of range of the signal. The only reason Dipper had nearly picked it up was because he didn't have his thick skull in the way when his spirit was out of his body.

But Bill's psychic abilities had been heavily suppressed since he was put in this body. How was he channeling the signal so much more clearly than anyone else?

He thoughtfully ran his tongue over his new golden tooth. "Hmm."

####

Bud entered the Gleeful house flipping through a pile of mail. "Junk, junk, bills, junk... Here's your subscription, honeybunch." He held out an issue of Nervous Wrecks Weekly magazine. His wife paused her cycle of polishing the front window to stiffly take it.

"Junk, coupons... Gideon! You've got a fan letter!" He checked for a stamp indicating the tiny envelope had passed through a state correctional facility. "And it isn't even from the prison, isn't that nice!"

"Coming!" Gideon ran out of his room, snatched the letter from Bud's hand with a little grunt, ran back to his room giggling, and slammed the door.

Bud chuckled. "Joy, sweetie, you remember when that boy got so much fanmail he used to throw it out? These days he's excited for every single letter." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Suppose it's good for him, learning to appreciate the little things."

"Mhm." She looked down at the roses outside the window. She'd need to trim those soon. "I suppose it is."

In his room, Gideon studied the odd envelope. It was tiny—barely large enough for the address and the stamp, no return address—and when he turned it over he discovered lines of text printed on the paper. The flap was tucked carefully into a fold in the envelope that held it tight.

As he pulled out the flap, he realized that the envelope wasn't held together with glue; it was some sort of cleverly-folded origami craft that began to unfold in his hands as he pulled out the flap. The letter was written on the inside of the envelope. "Why—what a delightful little creation!" He sat at his dressing table to focus on unfolding the letter, careful not to damage it so he could re-fold it later.

Once he'd smoothed it out, he could see that the paper was carefully torn from a book. The outside of the envelope was made from the last page of a chapter, with only a few lines of text at the top of the page and the rest left conveniently blank. It talked about telling the difference between waking and dreaming.

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

IT'S ADORABLE THAT YOU'RE USING A DREAM COUNTERFEITING SPELL FOR CAPITALISM! I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE PROUD! HOWEVER, MY FILLINGS ARE PICKING UP AUTO DEALERSHIP ADS ALL NIGHT. IT'S REALLY ANNOYING. CUT IT OUT.

In place of a signature, there was a triangle with an eye.

Gideon's blood ran cold.

He read the letter again, then studied the words themselves. He didn't recognize the tall, thin, crooked handwriting. He flipped over the envelope. No return address. He noticed for the first time that the letter wasn't addressed to "Gideon". It said "STAR BOY". Fan mail. Right.

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

"It can't be Bill," Gideon muttered to himself. "Bill's dead. It's got to be some prankster with a twisted sense of humor..."

But then, how could some prankster know he was doing dream magic? Did anyone else even know that Bill had called him "Star Boy"?

No. It had to be a prankster. If Bill were alive, he'd be doing much worse than sending letters and complaining about fillings.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it away. His father's business needed Gideon to do whatever he could to help. Gideon's own financial future depended on it. He wasn't about to let some prankster stop him.

####

There was a rumble of several motorcycles and a revving car engine outside the Gleeful house, disturbing the late evening still. Gideon came in the front door wearing a little backpack, waving behind himself as he came in. "Thanks for the ride, Ghost-Eyes! Good talk today! I'll see y'all this weekend for brunch!" He shut the door as the engines receded into the distance.

"Welcome home, son," Bud said from the couch. "How were the ex-convicts this week?"

"Oh, great, just great. Graybeard's daughter is gonna let him meet his grandson and Spiderwebs got a new job."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. I know you were real concerned for Spiderwebs."

"I shouldn't have worried! He got work at an alpaca ranch on the other side of town, did you know there's an alpaca ranch 'round here?"

"Can't say I did!"

"I think it's a good fit for him. Being out in nature calms him down."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as they waited a polite amount of time to change the topic. In the kitchen, Joy cleaned the same dish for the third time.

Bud cleared his throat. "Well, uh—you know, it's been a couple of days since we've run a 'nighttime ad.' Do you think it's a good time to...?"

Gideon squeezed his backpack's straps. He could still see that spindly text reading "STAR BOY". "Do you think? I don't want to put 'em too close together, folks might notice..."

Bud grimaced. "It can't hurt. It's been almost two weeks since I sold a car."

Gideon scowled. But he nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go set up."

"You know how much your mother and I appreciate it," Bud said. "I'll go heat up dinner."

Gideon went to his room, tossed his backpack on his bed, rolled out the tarp on which he'd drawn the circle and sigils in permanent marker, and set up the candlesticks and candles around the perimeter. His father called him to dinner; they watched an evening talk show; and after a little more dawdling, they figured it was late enough that most folks would be asleep, and went to Gideon's room to get to work.

As Bud awkwardly lowered himself to sit in the circle and Gideon lit the candles, Gideon asked, "Father, do you ever... remember who you talk to? I mean, whose dreams you're in?"

Bud considered that, pursing his lips. "No, can't say I do. It's a bit like I'm dreaming myself," he said. "And it's sort of a jumble of a few hundred dreams, too. Like I'm visiting the whole town at once. All I can recall is a blur!"

Gideon frowned. "I see."

"You sure you don't want to be sitting in the circle this time?" Bud asked. "I'd bet if folks saw you in their dreams telling them to buy a car, why, they'd just rush right down."

These days, Gideon wasn't so sure. Sourly, he said, "I don't want to get involved." He'd gotten enough of starring in his father's car commercials when he was younger. He'd thought he'd escaped that completely when he picked up the telepathy act; he didn't relish the thought of using telepathy to star in another car commercial.

"All right, suit yourself. Just keep it in mind." Bud got as comfortable as he could on the floor and shut his eyes.

Gideon took a deep breath and began chanting: "Dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away..."

The flames flickered and turned bright blue. A purplish shimmery light surrounded Bud; and as Gideon kept chanting, the light expanded to the edge of the circle and beyond, creeping across the floor, over the bed—

A shrill wail filled the room. They both started, losing their concentration. The wail persisted several seconds before it resolved into a eardrum-bursting roar of words: "HI I'M SCOUT YOUNGER AND I'M IN A PICKLE SO YOU CAN DRIVE FOR A NICKEL! I'VE GOT SO MANY CARS I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT 'EM! SO WE'RE GIVING THEM AWAY FOR FIVE CENTS, THAT'S RIGHT FIVE CENTS! SCOUT YOUNGER, I'M A DEALER BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE—"

"Dagnabbit," Bud shouted, "that's the man undermining my no-barter-for-a-quarter deal and getting all my business! He's halfway to Portland—but darn it, his commercials are so catchy!"

"—THAT'S YOUNGER PATRIOT CARS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF INTERSTATE—" The commercial was cut off with a clap of thunder that made them both jump again.

And before the dying rumbles of the thunder had fully faded, a second voice spoke—a high-pitched, furious shriek that Gideon hadn't heard in nearly a year but instantly recognized: "SEE HOW YOU LIKE GETTING USED CAR ADS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, YOU LITTLE TWERP. THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING!"

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

Nothing but a faint, muffled, mechanical whir coming from Gideon's bed.

Slowly, Bud said, "Is that...?"

Gideon looked under his bed; then on top, tugging over his backpack and unzipping it; and he pulled out a still-running cassette tape player. A complicated sigil was painted on top of the player and stretched over the play button, glowing shimmery purple as though it had absorbed the magic from Gideon's spell.

Bud took the tape player, stopped it, rewound a bit, turned down the volume dial, and hit play: "—your throat in the middle of the night, you little—"

He stopped the tape. He and Gideon looked at each other.

Bud said, "Don't tell your mother."

####

"Third lap!" Dipper crowed as his car zoomed over the line on the digital racetrack. "You'd better catch up fast!"

"Aw, c'mon," Mabel groaned. She tilted her body along with her game controller as she steered her car around a tricky curve, as though that would help her go a little faster. "No fair, I'd be winning if you didn't throw a goose at me—"

"Pff, shut up, you always use the goose."

Bill was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the fish tank—as far as either Dipper or Mabel could tell, having a staring contest with the axolotl—but without breaking eye contact with the tank, he leaned over to elbow Dipper's knee. "Hey kid. Go left."

"What? No, shut up." Dipper tried to kick Bill's arm away.

"Go left. Trust me, it's a hidden shortcut."

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

"No." Dipper jerked his car to the right. It drove off the track and landed in quicksand. "Aw, man—"

"YES!" Mabel sailed past him. A fanfare played as she crossed the finish line. "The winner! Woo-woooo!"

Bill beamed as Dipper glared at the side of his face.

Somebody knocked on the door—and kept knocking, frantically hammering for attention. Dipper and Mabel looked over.

Bill glanced over, rolled his eyes, said, "You don't want to answer that," and looked back at the fish tank.

Dipper glared at him again, stood, and went to answer the door, Mabel close behind. "Hel— Gideon?"

"Told you," Bill muttered.

Gideon was sweating, panting, and wild-eyed with panic. "Mabel! Dipper!" He paused to give Mabel a sweet smile. "Hi Mabel~♡" And straight back to panic. "We've got a problem! I know y'all don't want me 'round here, but—but this is an emergency!"

Dipper glanced at Mabel. She sighed, but reluctantly stepped back to let Gideon in. "All right. What is it?"

"I know I sound insane, but—but you have to trust me," Gideon said. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bill Cipher's back! I'm sure it's Bill, it can't be anyone else, he... he knows things only somebody with his powers could know!" He paced anxiously in front of the twins, "He's been sending me threatening mail and harassing me and—and I don't know what he's up to, but we've got to find him and stop him! You've gotta help me!" He grabbed Dipper's arms. "I think he might be trying to kill my family!"

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

Bill glanced over with an expression of mild interest. "Hm?"

"Gideon here says that Bill's been harassing him," Dipper said. "What do you think about that."

"Oh wow," Bill said, extremely unconvincingly. "That's so crazy. I can't even believe it."

Gideon's anxious gaze darted past Dipper and Mabel. "Who's...?" He thought he remembered seeing that stranger around Wendy.

Dipper stepped between their line of sight. "Thanks, Gideon. We'll handle this... problem."

The stranger got to his feet and sauntered to the entryway. "Hey Gideon. Just out of curiosity, what were y—"

Mabel cut in, "Bye, Gideon!" She tried to push him toward the door. "We'll see you later!"

The stranger leaned over Gideon, planting a hand on the doorframe. "—what were you doing that got on Bill's nerves so much, I wonder—"

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

Had Gideon not heard the voice so recently, he might not have noticed anything odd about the stranger in front of him. But as it was, a chill instantly ran up his spine. He slowly looked up. The menacing smile was unfamiliar, but the eye... something was wrong with that eye. The longer he stared into it, the more he could see the cruel, mad, golden inhumanity.

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door. 

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Seriously?"

Mabel chased after him. "Gideon! Gideon wait!" She caught up with him rounding in front of the gift shop and had to tackle him into the dirt.

"Get offa me! You're working for him, you traitor—"

"Gideon, listen! We're not working for him, he's our prisoner!"

"Oh." Gideon stopped struggling. "Well, that's a different kettle of corn, isn't it."

Mabel sighed in relief. She backed off Gideon, but had to hold his ankle to make sure he wouldn't bolt again. "Okay, look. We don't know how, but Bill's stuck in a human body, and he's got no powers."

"How do y'all know he isn't faking it?"

"Because he tried to kill us and we beat him up." She winced. "We've... kind of beat him up a lot."

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

"But you can't tell anybody," Mabel said. "If there's an angry mob or something and he gets executed, the real Bill might hatch from his body like an egg and he'll take over the town again!"

Gideon shuddered. He could almost still feel ache in his legs and the blisters on his feet under the adorable sparkly pink shoes.

"So he's fine here with us. We've got everything under control, he's not dangerous like this—" Mabel turned around to shout, "—and HE SHOULDN'T BE SENDING THREATENING LETTERS, BILL."

Bill's voice drifted from around the corner of the house: "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!"

Dipper said, "What did Gideon do to warrant that, anyway?"

Bill glowered into the distance. "He knows what he did."

"Okay, I-I won't tell anyone. I promise." Pitifully, Gideon asked, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, you can go home now." Mabel let him go. He got up and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

####

They reconvened in the living room. Dipper and Mabel stood in front of Bill, glaring. Bill sat on the sofa, smiling innocently.

"Bill," Mabel said. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Lots of people thought he should be ashamed of himself, but not many had the guts to say so.

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

"I have an excuse," Bill said. "I've been crabby this week. Body made me crabby. Some kind of human neurotransmitter imbalance. I didn't sign up to have neurotransmitters, it's completely out of my hands."

"That's not an excuse," Dipper said.

"Plus, you're an entire adult thing!" Mabel said. "You're picking on a little kid! He's like, eleven!"

"So? There's not a lot of difference between eleven and a hundred eleven when you're a million million years old."

"Then maybe you're too old to bully anybody."

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

Dipper said, "Plus, you're gonna blow your cover and get everyone in trouble!"

Bill shrugged. "He can't prove anything! Anyone could have sent a letter pretending to be me."

Mabel asked, "How did you send a letter, anyway?"

####

"Hey, Soos," Mabel yelled, "Can you send a letter for me?"

"Sure thing, hambone! Just stick it on the pile in the kitchen."

Mabel licked a stamp, haphazardly slapped it on the envelope to her parents, tossed it on the other mail, and ran back upstairs.

Bill crept into the kitchen, peeled the stamp off Mabel's envelope before it dried, stuck it on his tiny origami letter, and stuffed them both into the middle of the mail pile. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. "You'll just have to resend this one."

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

"And how did you 'harass' Gideon?" Dipper asked. "What could you possibly do from in here to harass him?"

####

Bill sat on the sofa in the floor room with Mabel's boombox radio on the floor, a cassette tape player/recorder he'd salvaged from the museum held up to the speaker with his thumb hovering over the record button, his other hand hovering over the key with the thunder sound effect on Soos's keyboard, an air horn between his knees, and a nearly-dead marker he'd fished out of Mabel's trash and revitalized with rubbing alcohol waiting next to him for drawing a magic-activated sigil. He glared at the boombox as the local radio station played an advertisement for air conditioning installation. "Come on," he muttered at the boombox. "Play the stupid car commercial."

The next ad started. "Bargain alert, bargain alert! I've got more used cars than I know what to do with! Hi, I'm Scout—"

"Yes," Bill hissed. He hit the record button, squeezed the air horn between his knees, held the tape recorder up to the boombox until the end of the commercial, kicked the boombox's power button, quickly held the tape recorder up to the piano, and triumphantly hit the key that produced the sound of a flushing toilet.

"NO!" He kicked the electric piano's leg, flung the tape recorder to the other end of the sofa, and flopped face down on the cushions. After permitting himself a moment of grief at the injustice of it all, he dragged over the tape recorder, stopped it, rewound it back to the start, hit the lightning key several times to make sure he had it, and then set up again to wait for the next time the car commercial played.

####

"Hey Wendy, could you get this door for me?"

Wendy gave Bill a puzzled look. "That's the wrong hallway. Rainbow Club's down that one." She pointed at the door across the room.

"I know, I'm just looking for the restroom! I need to dooo... girl hygiene things?"

Wendy looked at the tape player-shaped lump under Bill's shirt, looked at his face, and raised her brow.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna prank Lil Gideon."

Wendy opened the door, leaned through, and opened a second door to a coat closet. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Bill saluted her, and rummaged through the leather biker jackets in search of Gideon's little backpack.

####

"You've got no idea what kind of dark powers I still have at my disposal," Bill boasted, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Yeah, he's got nothing. He probably bribed a tourist to call Gideon's house or something."

Bill scowled, but didn't dignify Dipper with a response. "Anyway, the game's over now that Gideon knows where I am. I won't do it again."

Dipper scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Bill said calmly, "if I do it again, you'll have to tell your uncles, and I'll be in serious trouble. So I won't... and therefore, you won't. Right?"

Dipper frowned, but looked at Mabel. Mabel was considering Bill with her hands on her hips. She prompted, "Aaand...?"

It took Bill a moment to figure out what she was aiming for. "And I've realized I was mean and I'm very remorseful for my hurtful actions."

Mabel pointed at him. "That's what I wanna hear!" She looked at Dipper. "I think we can let him off with a warning."

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

Mabel said, "But you're not stopping there, Bill."

"How's that?"

"Come on, man, think!" She poked her finger against her temple. "You know the answer! We just watched this episode yesterday!"

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

"I've been using Color Critters to teach him social skills."

Bill said, "I have social skills, all you're doing is showing me what'll be on the test."

"That's how learning works, dummy! I wanna hear you regurgitate that textbook answer!"

Bill opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat and gagging; but then he said, with a blatantly artificial chipper tone, "'If we hurt our friends, we should try to find a way to make it up to them and make sure it can't happen again.'" 

"That's right! 98 points! I'm taking two off for attitude."

"So how do you expect me to make it up to him? I can't exactly un-send him a letter. Unless you're gonna loan me that time tape—"

"Stop asking for the time tape," Dipper said, "it'll never happen."

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

"Figure it out yourself," Mabel said. "You're the one who's gotta make it up to Gideon, not us."

Bill rolled his eye. "Is this part of the terms to buy your silence?"

"Yeah, it is."

"All right, fine." Bill sighed and stood up. "Give me a bit to brainstorm. I'll be upstairs." He meandered out of the room.

Mabel called after him, "You better not think you're wiggling out of this!"

"Relax! I won't disappoint you, Shooting Star. Promise."

Once he was out of earshot, Dipper turned to Mabel. "How do you expect him to make it up to Gideon?"

"He should say 'sorry.'"

Dipper nodded. Okay, sure, that sounded reasonable. "How long do you think it'll take for him to think of apologizing?"

"I'd give it a couple of hours."

####

(If you recognize the dealership being parodied, we now share a warrior's bond. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, I've been looking forward to introducing Gideon for a long time! As always, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts and comments on the chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gideon gleeful #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i got impatient I'm posting this a few hours early)

[purple-writer8]

Heather - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky… she’s got you mesmerized. While I die.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, oblivious az

1.2k words

Masterlist :)

Crushing on the shadowsinger was a bad idea, you knew that since the moment you joined the Inner Circle centuries ago. It was a family, and familiar dynamics could very well be affected by your stupid little crush, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating for him.

You were a master of lies, Azriel’s second in command as Spymaster— you were good at being a chameleon— at lying. So you’ve spent your entire life in the Inner Circle, lying to everyone, hiding your feelings for Azriel because surely you were not worthy enough for the shadowsinger. 

He was one of the strongest warriors in Prythian, the only current shadowsinger, an Ilyrian. You… you were just a sneaky thief turned spy. A lesser fae from the Winter Court, with eyes so white, you were terrifying to your enemies. Fingertips so cold, that with enough conviction, whatever you touched turned into frost. 

You weren’t enough for Azriel, or anyone really. The High Lord had found you three hundred centuries ago, you had somehow snuck into Hewn City, and then you had stolen heaps of artifacts and sold them in the Winter Court for profit. You were stealthy and quick, something he had appreciated when Cassian and Azriel finally brought you to him.

Rhysand gave you two choices: to be handed over to Kallias as a criminal, or stay in his court and serve him— because he was sure you would excel as a spy. In exchange, you got a family, gold, clothes, and a warm bed. It was a no-brainer for you.

Azriel and you were a dream team and with time, your feelings for the shadowsinger went from admiration to adoration. Who wouldn’t adore him? He was perfection, he was everything, and he was the love of your life— you weren’t his, though. 

You had never expressed your feelings because, frankly, you were not sure that you could handle rejection. So you pined and loved him in silence, hoping that one day a miracle dawned on him, and he would somehow fall for you— a frosty lesser fae. You knew you two were not mates, but cauldron, you could wish and yearn. 

It was more than wishful dreaming, though sometimes you thought that just maybe— maybe he reciprocated your feelings. He was so kind to you, so doting, so careful.

Though, that all stopped when Elain Archeron dropped into all of your lives. You liked Feyre, and loved Nesta— but Elain, you hated her. The middle Archeron was perfection, everything you were not. She was soft, kind, beautiful, High Fae, and… Azriel liked her.

You knew it was bad that you hated her for being of his interest, but you had never once claimed to be a good person. Two years into her arrival and you could not stand the likes of her. 

You were sitting in the River House, playing board games with the Inner Circle, Nesta, and Lucien. Much to your delight, Elain hadn’t joined. It was the beginning of winter in the Night Court, and though you were made of ice— you weren’t immune to the cold. You shivered as you laid down one of your cards, and it caused Cassian to laugh at you.

“You turned my room into ice last winter solstice, and now you shiver?” He teased you, making you roll your white eyes at him. “Should’ve brought a coat,” Feyre taunted you, and you nodded. “Guys, I really thought it wasn’t as cold,” you chuckled, rubbing your cold as ice hands together to get some warmth, which was to no avail because there was no warmth inside you. Frost appeared in your hands at this action, causing you to groan. 

 Your heart stopped, though, when you felt a warm sweater wrapping around your shoulders. Your eyes flickered to Azriel, who gave you a small smile, “thank you,” you said softly.

 “It looks better on you than it does me,” the shadowsinger shrugged, his shadows coiling around your frozen hands, trying to warm you up. You smiled, about to answer, but his eyes snapped away from you, as did his shadows. Your eyes followed his gaze, meeting with Elain as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Your heart dropped, she was a sight for sore eyes, a sight for Azriel’s eyes. 

 She had him mesmerized, and you felt like you wanted to die. Inching away from Azriel, you continued your game, dropping his sweater unto the couch behind you. You were an ice fae, you could manage. 

When dinner came around, you were quiet all through the affair. You seethed in silence as you watched him drape the very same sweater he had given you, over Elain’s shoulders. The cold pulsed through your veins, and soon your utensils were turning into ice as you watched the scene unfold.

Elain told some story about her up-and-coming garden, and you got the urge to go and freeze her flowers to death. Obviously you did not. She was an angel, a good person. 

You kind of wished she were dead. You reprimanded your mind for being so evil. How could anyone ever love you? You were terrible… and not even half as pretty as Elain. Your thoughts were dark, and your heart made of stone-cold ice. Love was not something you would ever get. 

After dinner, you seethed outside. The snow that fell over you felt like fire on your skin, and you could feel your fingertips freezing as they created small snowflakes. “Come inside, it’s so cold outside,” that husky voice you worshiped spoke from the from door, causing you to turn to him.

His shadows rushed to you, swirling around your body to shield you from the snow. You turned away from Azriel, not wanting him to see you in your essence. Your veins shone black underneath your pale skin, your eyes glowing white, while ice slipped from your fingers and wrapped itself around you. 

You heard his footsteps crunching in the snow, then large wings wrapped around you in a protective manner as he towered over you. “Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, your eyes casting downward, not wanting him to see your eyes.

“Why?” He asked softly, scarred thumb wiping away frost that had gathered on your cheek. Then it clasped around your chin, tilting it upward so you looked up at him. 

His hazel eyes skimmed over your face slowly, “what’s wrong?” He asked softly, making you tilt your face away from his grasp. “Don’t.” You stated. You wished he knew, wish that you had been obvious enough, because you were so tired of pining for someone who did not love you back. 

“What?” He asked, a puzzled look happening upon his chiseled and devastatingly beautiful face. “You gave her your sweater,” you did not care how preposterous you were being, you couldn’t hold back. You had enough of this. 

"What? It’s just a sweater, does it matter?” Azriel asked, his shadows coiling around his ear to whisper in his ear. Jealous girl, jealous fae. 

 “You like her better.” The jealousy was pouring out of you, manifesting in ice that crawled all over your body. 

 “I can’t keep wishing I was Elain.” 

-

Author’s Note:

IK the elain/azriel x pining reader is done a lot butttttt i love this song and i wanted to write my take on the triangle with heather as inspiration!

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

#acofas #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #batboys x reader #batboys #acotar x reader #acotar fic #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand #Spotify

[cascade05]

So… when people go to Starbucks, they sometimes use celebrity names, right? I saw this post on Pinterest (one of those older Tumblr screenshots) and this person said their name was Tony Stark and they ran into someone who called themselves Bruce Wayne. So that happens, right?

Okay, so, imagine you're working as a barista at some place and you get so many people telling you their name is a pro hero name. The amount of Dekus you have served this week is off the charts and you had no idea Shoto could shape shift into forty different people. In all honesty, though, it's funny and kinda the highlight of your week.

This one day, someone comes in and they tell you there name is Dynamight. Not only does the shy smile on his face tell you, no, it's not Dynamight, but like literally everything else does too. Okay, normal. You place the order and then take the next person in line. This person is also Dynamight. This has happened before and, to prevent confusion, you dub this person Dynamight 1.

The next customer is a stoic man by the name David. The two of you connect eyes, both inwardly laughing at the funny little encounter that just transpired. David is dubbed nice David, a name you mumble and the stoic man hums with joy, you think.

Anyway, after David is—well, a large, intimating man which wild ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes which are enhanced by his dark mask. You blink up at him, shocked for a moment before your eyes flicker to Nice David. You both share a look of shock before evil grins appear in your eyes.

Then Dynamight orders and you take his order professionally, not gushing or fan-girling—and not breaking down into a fit of laughter despite so badly wanting to. He gives you his name, a gruff “Dynamight,“ and you bite your cheek.

You take your sharpie—you've chosen orange for obvious reasons—and your write what some may consider your final words. You're optimistic and consider it funny. “Dynamight 2,“ you mumble and the man snaps his head around with such a bizzare, pissed off look you can't stop the laugh. You tried, which turned it into a snort and the rage in his eyes exploded (heh) at the sound. You hid behind the empty coffee cup, pinching your lips together as laughter prodded at your chest.

“The hell did you just say? You think that shit is funny?!“

You did. Then you realized he probably thought you were making fun of his recent drop from number one hero to number two. He was bitter about that, it was no secret. You cleared your throat, back to looking at Dynamight with your professional facade. “Sorry sir, it's just that,“ you paused, sharing a look with Nice David.

“Spit it out,“ the inpatient hero demanded.

You looked back it him, clearing your throat again as a laugh threatened to ruin everything. You laughed when you here nervous and it didn't help that you always found Dynamight's reactions amusing. But you had to keep it together, for the other, no doubt, embarrassed Dynamights in the room. “Well, I'm sorry to say, but Dynamight and Dynamight 1 have already been taken.“

“What?“

It was so short, so curt, and so blunt you almost laughed again. You saw the other two Dynamights flinch and you wanted to scream. What were the odds the real deal would come into the little cafe the same time as two of his fans? Ah, if you were them you'd be too embarrassed to get your coffee. But, since you weren't them, well, you were there to enjoy the comedy gold.

Back to Dynamight 2. The man still awaited an explanation, far too confused to be annoyed at your lack of action. You looked at the two other Dynamights who's eyes were glued to the floor. You looked at your coworkers, all of which were hiding smiles by showing their backs to the giant pro—busying themselves with work. You looked at Kind Dave, both agreeing this was one of—nay, the BEST thing to ever happen in your lives. You looked at Dynamight 2, a man so lost and so confused, so unsure of his identity.

“If you would like, I can use a different name.“

“Huh?“ That snapped him back to the present. “Hell no, I'm Dynamight!“

“Yes.“

“So use Dynamight!“

“It's already been used—“ “Then swap them!“

“I can't. That would just confuse the team—“ “Then I should be Dynamight 1!“

“That's already been taken.“

“Just change it from Dynamight 2, dammit!“

“How about Dynamight 3?“

Oh if looks could kill. “Change. It,“ he order slowly, lowly, and most definitely sternly.

You coughed into your hand to hide the laugh. “Alright sir, I'll change it.“

You assumed he was too angry to listen to your new name for him which was his fault actually. He could most certainly not blame you for what was to come because it was he who left you unsupervised and you lived off of the pain of others.

There were no other customers so, you had the honor of handing out drinks. It was with great joy you took that job and you, again with great joy, read the name on the cup out loud. “Dynamight.“

You saw the hero twitch. His scowl deepened and you would've laughed to yourself if you weren't waiting for Dynamight to show up. You looked at the small group, raising a brow when no one came. “Guess he left,“ you mumbled.

One of your coworkers mumbled a response. “I'd leave too.“

You both shared a small snicker.

Then the next order came up. “Dynamight one?“ you asked, fully aware that person has also slipped out.

That meant two free coffees for the team.

Next was “Kind David,“ you announced proudly.

The man, the myth, the legend walked up to your counter and, as the name implied, kindly took the drink from you, giving you a kind nod of thanks. You both shared a look of amusement before he left, giving Dynamight 2 a small nod as he passed.

It was time. You held the large black coffee with a hint of cinnamon and a helping of whipped cream in your hand. Dynamight liked whipped cream, who knew? You didn't look at the cup to read the name. No. You looked straight into Dynamight's narrowed eyes. He began approaching the counter, glare hardening in suspicion. You announced him and he bristled with anger, lip lifting up to reveal his pink gums as he sneered down at you. Such a large man.

“Number two!“ you announced loudly, cheerfully, and joyously.

Boy. You had never seen a face curl up like that. He towered over you and he opened his mouth to give you a pice of his mind. But you beat him to it. You leaned forward, mischievous glint in your eye. “Don't worry,“ you whispered, “you'll always be number one here, hero.“

And it was supposed to be a funny jab, you said it with a teasing look. It was supposed to make him snatch the coffee outta your hands with a glare. But, well, you couldn't control his emotions.

He grabbed the coffee, taking it out of your hand normally. He glared, a comparatively calm glare. “Watch yourself, shorty.“

And you let your mouth drop in a dramatic scoff, about to give his back a piece of your mind, then you see it. You freeze, mouth gaping in actual shock. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears were the slightest bit red. You thought you were seeing things. You rubbed your eye. Oh boy, you were not seeing things.

It was supposed to be a funny jab. You said it with a teasing look. But hey, if Dynamight got all embarrassed, that was fine too. “We'll be rooting for you hero!“ you cheered, again, mildly teasing.

He scoffed but you saw the blush grow on the back of his neck. He sent you one glare over his shoulder and your cat-like grin grew at the pink dusting his upper cheek. Then he left and the cafe was silent before you and your coworkers burst into a series of obnoxious laughs and giggles. You were not giggling, by the way, you were on the floor DYING and wheezing in an ugly, hilarious sort way.

Dynamight was an interesting guy.

#this was way longer then it was supposed to be #it's funny I think #I love tormenting him #it's fun #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou drabble #bakugo drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki x reader #cascade05 #lol #the ​shop is called Kaboom Coffee btw

[m1d-45]

Alright let me try this again.

What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?

They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.

So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.

They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.

They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.

All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.

He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.

-Sibling Anon

he who is without sin

a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)

-> gn!reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)

from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.

however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’

‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.

xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.

and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.

xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”

the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”

xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.

irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?

he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.

“how will i know when the creator arrives?”

morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“

you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.

“-you will know.”

you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.

instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.

he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.

from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.

“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.

you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.

maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…

“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”

xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.

“i thought i did.”

he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.

his finch heart burned.

your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.

“i thought she was kind.”

she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.

you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”

xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.

but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.

he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.

but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.

as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.

when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.

you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.

he should have protected you.

under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.

.

#sibling anon #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #genshin #sagau impostor au #genshin sagau #sagau xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #gender neutral reader #i should have made all of these full posts in truth #but like. yk. :/ #whatever whatever hindsight and all that right? #i should make a bird xiao tag shouldnt i. hm. #i have full posts w like 300 words i should have just done that for all my bird xiao asks- but those aren’t really plot?? it’s kinda just #worldbuilding?? unless that counts as headcanons??? idk i’m not really involved in fandom what’s the appropriate term #[says i’m not involved in fandom even as i’ve written over 250k words for one (1) video game] i’m so funny #bird!xiao shenanigans

[l3viat8an]

Okay but like imagine, you're having fun with Daviolo. He has his face in your neck biting and kissing those bites he just made. He moves his face for a minute to say "I love you Mc" He doesn't even realize it until you stop moaning in pleasure. He looks up to see you staring at him with this lust, admiration, and just pure love while looking at him. He starts to stumble wondering what this is gonna do to the relationship. Without thinking you respond "I love you too, Daviolo" He looks at you with wide eyes and then is replaced by a dorky smile with one of his signature laughs. This moment melts into a passionate moment with the demon you love and want to spend the rest of your life with.

Screaming for when it's my turn

(Que, Asmodeus waiting for his sin to calm down before asking you how it was)

(Satan overhearing Asmodeus talking to you and making a dash to tell Lucifer with an evil smile)

(Finally Daviolo asking Barabtors to measure your finger when you're sleeping so he can get you a ring)

Omgg I’m so sorry I didn’t see this sooner!!! ‘n this is soooo cute <333

Diavolo laughing to cover up the fact his heart is beating a mile a minute, you really said ‘I love you.’ back- in that moment he couldn’t be happier!!!

You’ll get absolutely covered in soooo many soft kisses all over your body before anything else, he just wants to show you how much he cherishes you <3 tho if you can even walk afterwards is another matter jsjsjsj

Asmo basically tackling you as soon as he sees you and telling you, you just have to tell him everything!!! He already knows something fun happened~ Now he wants needs to hear all the details!!- He’ll drag you back to his room so you’ll have a little bit more privacy while you tell him~

Satan’s smug smile while telling Lucifer that there’s ‘gossip going around’ about you and Diavolo- adding every little detail he overheard so he can watch Lucifer’s face for any kind of reaction- Shame Lucifer’s almost too good at covering his emotions.

Barbatos getting your ring size when you take a nap at the castle, and as casually as possible asking what gemstones or colors you like during a random conversation a few days later. Oh and do you prefer gold or sliver? He’s simply curious <3 and he’s going to tell Diavolo later, the ring will be absolutely perfect!!!!!

#cute chaos XD #i love this sm <3 #obey me! #ro rambles #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #om!

[elfy-elf-imagines]

To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves. 

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family. 

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips. 

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move. 

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself. 

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine. 

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries. 

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white. 

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see. 

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--” 

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil. 

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance. 

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them. 

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to. 

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask. 

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast. 

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited. 

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them. 

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves. 

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream. 

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you. 

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests. 

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded. 

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.” 

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore. 

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence. 

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there. 

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak. 

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate. 

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you. 

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s. 

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.” 

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real. 

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened. 

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.” 

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined. 

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."  

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden. 

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart." 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

[wholoveseggs]

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #marcel gerard #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson smut

[actual-changeling]

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

Crowley did not sneak up on him this time, it was more of an ungraceful drag or stumble with one hand pressed against the still-bleeding cut on his stomach. Aziraphale turns his head to look at him, his eyes lingering on the soot and bruises smeared across his skin, but stays silent when Crowley shakes his head exactly once.

Don't.

"It did, rather," he says instead, as the space around them empties slowly but surely. Stopping the second coming had been exactly like the first apocalypse and nothing like it at the same time. They're both a bit singed, for starters.

"You think we overreacted? Second offence and all."

Crowley tentatively lifts his hand, grimacing when blood-soaked fabric sticks to his palm and tugs on the wound. It would barely require a miracle to heal it, but he is currently quite comfortable in the limbo of not knowing whether the destruction of heaven and hell erased his celestial powers or not.

"Someone had to teach them the real difference between good and evil," Aziraphale continues lightly, leaning into the twisted mirror of their first conversation on the walls of Eden.

"I'm pretty sure they regret sending me up here to 'cause trouble' by now."

Trying and failing to sound humorous, Crowley bites back a groan. Fatigue washes over him wave after deadly wave, and he considers simply allowing himself to fall to the concrete floor when a hesitant arm slides around his waist and pulls him closer, conscious of his injuries.

Crowley freezes for a second before leaning into it, processing the sudden influx of touch and heat as one big, blurry embrace, and it is such a welcome contrast to the painful reality scratching at his bones that his eyes flutter shut. Aziraphale holds him both gently and as if he is never going to let go of him again; unsurprisingly, he finds he doesn't mind that at all.

They stand in amicable silence, swaying slightly without really meaning to, and although both of them want to go home, they cannot imagine a place that would fit that description better than each other's presence.

"You did the right thing," Aziraphale eventually says, and Crowley forces himself to blink up at him, blue meeting gold meeting love.

"With the apple, and trying to make me see the truth, and with not coming to heaven with me. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain." His voice breaks at the end, trailing off into an ocean of unspoken confessions and feelings, but Crowley is pretty sure he couldn't handle more anyway, not right now.

He presses a hand against Aziraphale's cheek to tilt his head towards him, grimacing when he leaves bloody prints behind.

"Angel." It's a name, an endearment, a prayer, a decree, a question. A curse, and a plea, and a promise.

"I'm still mad," is all Crowley whispers before nudging their lips together, tasting blood, ash, and the dawn of something entirely unknown and new.

I still love you, is what lies beneath it.

For the first time in their existence, they're truly free. When it begins to rain, they tip their faces towards the sky and welcome it home.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #idk if this is coherent #just wanted some comfort for myself before bed

[ghostieyanyan]

Is it ok if I can ask for a yandere Rollo Flamme? I like the idea of Rollo because he’s already based off a yandere villain so it makes sense. And I think Rolli would like to get close to Yuu cuz they don’t have any magic so they’re seen as ‘pure’ in Rollo’s eyes. Maybe Rollo can be seen trying hard to control his urges at the fireplace or he captured MC and tried to burn them at the stake like in the movie? Your choice.

hehehe... why not just add salt to injure? what if mc has pyrophobia, a fear of fire?

~Let the fire purify you~

Yan!Rollo x Pyrophobia!Mc

Warnings: Fire, burning, kidnapping, anxiety attack, chains, gag, breakdown,

~~~

Rollo hated magic... with a passion. A passion that burned so bright that hurricanes, rainstorms, floods, and tsunami together couldn't extinguish this flame of pure hatred.

How does no one sees the danger of magic? How many lives have to be taken in the hand of magic for people to understand this is a problem? He guesses that its one of humanities sin, playing dumb, playing ignorant, until it becomes someone they care about that gets hurt. its always like that... why could people just see things through his lenses BEFORE someone got hurt...

But for now, he just has to do gods work for everyone else, until they see things his ways...

He had a plan. a plan that will solve this problem before it could get worst. The plan to get rid of magic, from one of the most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, to the student "prodigies" of that sick, sinful school, to the townsfolks of Fleur city, to every inch of Twisted wonderland.

With this crazy plan, he'll make, no, he'll force everyone to see how he sees life should be. he didnt care on who got hurt-

until-

he met Night Raven College's gem in the rock, their Perfect. When all the students were introducing themselves, when it was your turn. He swore the world stopped and he would have swore on his life that he saw wings and a halo on you. You looked, spoke, and acted like an angel. you even allow these sinful... beasts... breathe the same air as you. then you have an ACTUAL beast as a familiar. don't tell grim that.

your heart and soul must be made out of pure gold. he has to protect it at all cost. he will use his own body to shield you from magical blast and then some to keep your purity in tact. he will move mountains and redivert lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans for you. Rollo Flamme will make you into his deity that he worships.

~

All the students decided to split into groups and explore Fleur City, after they got changed.

to say Rollo thought you looked breathe taking in your glorious masquerade outfit was an understatement. he was about to come up to you and compliment you, maybe even starting small talk with you but a certain lizard decided to be the first to do so...

Of course that monster would be charmed by an angel like you. Evil loves to tempt with good.

no matter, he'll just have to see you another time but if he gets too busy..? He'll make time for you.

~

Rollo lead you into his office, you didn't mind too much because he was telling you all about the school's history and art. it is a really pretty school, it gives very romantic feelings.

when you finally made it into his office, you froze at the doorway at seeing the fire place. Rollo quickly notices and puts out the flame with a very helpful near by bucket. You were grateful that Rollo was very accommodating to your fears.

you thanked him and sat down across from him while Rollo sat in his chair.

"I'm very sorry for asking you to meet me at this ungodly hour but i just needed your input on something and if i didn't ask you, i would have had a sleepless night tossing and turning." Rollo said as he got everything on his desk organized.

"hehe, its alright. I just happen to have a restless night myself.. but i don't mind the company."

"oh my that sounds awful. what seems to be troubling you?"

"w-well.."

It was really hard to tell someone you only just recently met that you had a "bad feeling" about something and how so far, in twisted wonderland, its always comes true...

"well.. i think... maybe, its just the 'sleeping at a new place' feeling and I'm just not getting use to it. but I'm sure its fine. heh.."

"hmm.."

Rollo seemed satisfied with that answer and continues, by leaning towards you on the desk.

"i know i asked you about this before, but id like to discuss it with you more in depth... hmm?"

since Rollo put out the fire place, there was only a small lamp on the desk to shine light in the room. you kind of wished that the fire place was still lit... cause everything in this scenario was telling you to run and never look back..

"o-okay..? what would you like to know..?"

Rollo smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"as a magicless student in a full school of magical.. mages, aren't you scared they might... turn and hurt you..?"

the way he worded that made you feel more unnerved.. you trusted your friends in Night Raven College. Even the ones that did try to hurt you, they still came to your defense and help and protected you when you needed them.. you trusted them with your life and having this man tell you "you shouldn't because they can use magic" was... laughable...

"no.. because they've earn my trust and I've earn theirs..!"

"Earned..?"

Rollo's face darkened as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in.

"I'm sorry Rollo. Thank you for your hospitality but i have to go."

you start walking to the door but stopped.

"with however you feel about magic, i wont sit down and let you disrespect them just because they possess a special ability and i don't. It doesn't make them less of a person. Magic or no magic."

you walked to the door but before you could even touch the doorknob, you feel a body press against your back, pinning you against the door. you couldn't even move, much less move the door.

"I'm sorry my sweet angel~... i guess.. I'll just have to show you myself then~"

you see a quick purple blur and then tightness around your throat. Rollo was using his signature purple and gold handkerchief to strangle you! you tried to struggle. you tired to jab your elbow into his chest but his uniform was too thick for it to do any good.

You started to feel light headed then everything you saw was slowly turning black. the last thing you saw was Rollo, and the insanity in his eyes.

~

you had so many questions...

why you? was it because you don't have magic so you were "easy"? aren't there other people in twisted wonderland without magic? you just happened to go to a school "for" magic users so of course you'll see it a lot.

what's so bad about magic? ya it almost killed you here and there but it also almost killed either the user or other people around you.. but afterwards everything would have been fine. Plus you didn't blame the magic for those situations. you couldn't even say you blamed the user. some deserved the blame.. but not everyone..

how did you get here..? probably from your big mouth, you should have been smart when you were talking to Rollo. he was already giving you weird vibes and you just had to make it worst

you had more questions but you knew none of them would get answered..

you started to slowly open your eyes..

where are you..? what's this sound..? why cant you move..?

you slowly looked around, you remember this place... Rollo showed you, with your friends. the big bell, the bell of Solace. you noticed that you were alone though..

you looked around some more, you looked out from where you sat on the floor. it was dark out but with an orange hue... was the sun rising..? what's going on?

you went to take a step, to look out but something stopped you. a cold hand..? no..? a chain?!

if you weren't fully awake then, now you are! the chain was short, at least 2 feet long from the floor, it was attached to both your ankles. you could only go so far out.

what happened?! what's going on?!?

you started breathing heavily, tears started to form. you felt so confused, so lost. someone, anyone, please hel-

"oh my dear! you're awake."

your blood became ice, you looked up to see an uncomfortably happy Rollo.. he had a basket of breads and fruits.

"i was so worried that you'll never wake up. I'm very happy you did~"

with a heavy chest, you spoke.

"what's going on, Rollo!? Why are we here? why am i-?"

"oh within time my dear angel~ we just have to wait for those flowers to do their miracles. in the meantime, eat. you've been sleeping for a while and-"

"flowers..? what are you-...? Rollo...."

you took a deep breathe to try to settle your nerves.

"Please, Rollo... I'm scared. please tell me what's going on."

he looks at you and sighed, placing the basket down on a near by table. He then walked over to you and sat beside you, motioning you to come closer to him.

You did. you don't really have a choice right now..

"I'm making our perfect little world my love~ our paradise~"

you looked at the man like he was crazy. he was, at this point. But he continues.

"the Crimson flowers, the one that looks like fire, the flowers i shown you when you toured the city, they have the ability to take a mage's magic until they are just magicless people.. like you."

you stared at him but he kept smiling.

"magicless.. like me..?"

"yes my dear, then everyone in this world would have to understand magic is like a poisonous weed that has to be pulled out. or it'll spread to the other crops."

you just stared. you couldn't bare to keep looking at him so you turned to look at anything else..

magicless like you... no.. this isn't right. this cant happened!

Rollo thought the conversation was over and sat up to get the basket.

"Before this started, i made sure to get some food. i thought you'll be hungry so-"

"...mon...ster..."

Rollo froze. he was facing the backet and didn't turn around.

"excuse me..?"

you stood up, leaning against the wall, as best as you could. You knew your big mouth was gonna put you in a tough situation again but- what were you suppose to do?

"you, Rollo Flamme, are a monster."

he slowly turned to you, his eyes screamed murder. even if your body is shaking, from fear, from anxiety, from anger, maybe all of them at once's, but you kept your eye contact with Rollo.

You knew a comment like that will hurt him. you knew you couldn't physically harm him but you just wanted to hurt him like he planned to do the same to everyone you cared for..

the silence was deafening.

Rollo took some slow steps to you and leaned down to your level.

"take. that. back."

"no. cause i didn't say anything wrong.."

you hear Rollo take a deep breath and he quickly snaked his hand to grab the nape of your neck. you let out a gasp, from the sudden movement. he straighten his posture and brought you to his eye level.

"it's seems that those... mages.. have filled you with their poison. I'll just have to purify you myself. don't say i didn't warn you, my angel.."

he dragged you to a window and made you look outside. the entire city was filled with those flowers but... the looks of those flowers... made it look like you were in the middle of a raging firestorm. you felt your stomach drop. you felt cold shivers, and you didn't even realized that tears were falling. when you looked more, you noticed that the "fire" was slowly climbing the tower you were in.

you were about to let out a blood curdling scream but you were stopped by Rollo tying that purple handkerchief into a makeshift gag for you.

After that, he threw you, face down into the ground. Your body was shivering from fear so intensely, to the point that it feels like you lost complete control over your body. you couldn't even fight back when Rollo tied your hands together.

"i, really, am sorry for this my sweet angel~ but i have to get rid of the poison that those mages put in you... you have to be purified."

Rollo walked off and came back holding a fireplace poker. it was glowing red and you could see smoke coming off of it. where he got that, you didn't know but your attempt to get away from him was met with a wall against your back.

you felt your head spin, you were trembling to no return, the hot tears wouldn't stop, and the makeshift gag he put on you was now soak with tears, saliva, and snot.

Rollo kept walking towards you, in an agonizing slow pace.

"don't worry, my angel love~ after this, all will be forgiven~"

when he went to grab your face, he-

"MC!!"

those are.. familiar voices.. you know those voices..

"tch.. i suppose your punishment will have to wait my love. apparently, ill have to finish these pesky mages off myself."

#twst fanart #twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #art #digital art #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst x reader #rollo flamme #twst rollo #twisted wonderland rollo #rollo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #tw yandere #yandere rollo #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #glorious masquerade #twisted wonderland #twst art #rollo flamm