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slashersidewhore · 10 months

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Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

#slasher #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #michael myers #slasher x reader #jason voorhees #slashers x reader insert #slashers x gn reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #Jason Voorhees fanfic #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers fanfic #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 11 months

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Hiii, omg first of all I just wanted to say I loved Ur miles morales earth 42 imagine "second chance" like all my days I'm in love. But like anyway I was wondering if I could request another one with him and Spider man miles? Soooo, it's basically where in spider man miles earth the reader died and when he gets to earth 42 (the part where he thought he was back in his own earth) he sees her and try's to apologise for not saving her and that he's so glad she alive but little does he know the reader is actully with earth 42 miles and that miles gets all over protective and jealous???

(Hello! Sure I can and so sorry if this sucks but I hope you enjoy this little drabble!)

Taglist

Not Your Lover

Miles knew something was wrong, he figured it out immediately, not really, but he did.

He knew he needed to leave. He knew he needed to get home. He wanted nothing more than to get home.

But every thought of leaving and going home, back to his home where his family was, disappeared when he heard the door open.

Home was where he had his family.

But home didn't have you.

"I'm back, Mrs. Morales!"

Miles froze the second he heard, standing in the hallway before he slowly turned on his heel to see you.

You looked just as beautiful. The same way you did before he couldn't save you.

Miles didn't know what to do, just watching as you left your things by the door, looking around as you walked in before your eyes met his.

Miles almost broke down once your eyes met him, your same smile on your face that you always had for him as you got closer.

"You okay, Miles?" You asked, your smooth voice bringing Miles nothing but comfort as he couldn't help but stare at you.

You looked at Miles confused, Miles couldn't help but to bring himself forward, bringing you into a much needed hug as he buried his face into your neck, almost crying as the familiar scent of your perfume he had gotten you filled his senses.

"Woah!"

Miles held onto you as you said in surprise, not letting go as you slowly hugged him back, he felt your arms around him as he did his best not to cry.

Miles didn't want to do anything but to stay with you, but couldn't as you pulled back, looking at him with seemingly worry as you cupped his cheek.

"Are you feeling okay?" You asked, concerned as Miles almost didn't hear you, barely shaking his head.

"No- yeah. I'm okay." Miles barely muttered out, eyes darting over your entire face, not wanting to look away in fear you would leave as you did before.

"Okay, then." You gave him a weird look before you smiled, brushing off his weird behavior as you took his hand, leading him out and to the stairs.

"Come on. I made something for you."

Miles could hear you say as you walked up the stairs quickly, like you always did, leaving him behind for a moment.

"Hey, wait up!" Miles called after you, desperate to not let you out his sight but stopped in pain as he glitched, groaning in pain as he leaned into the railing.

"Miles?"

Miles looked up to see you standing above the flight of stairs, looking at him weirdly.

Miles saved himself, waving his hand to dismiss your worry as he climbed after you quickly.

You got to the roof first, Miles coming through the door not far after.

"Hey-" Miles tried once more before he stopped himself, looking around the roof, the changes evident as he looked back and forth.

That wasn't everything that was new.

Miles couldn't help but look at the brick wall, staring for a moment before a passing by train lit it up, giving just enough time for Miles to see the painted face.

The face no longer was Uncle Aaron and you.

But instead was Miles' dad.

Miles couldn't look away, his wide eyes staring at the portrait of his dad.

He didn't save his dad. His dad was gone.

He needed to go home. He had to go home.

Miles couldn't move, his feet planted to the floor.

Miles only turned when he remembered you were there, he slowly turned his head, expecting to see anything but he got nothing.

Your face was changed, everything was different now as any aspect he saw of his (Name) was gone, replaced by someone else he didn't know.

Miles wanted to deny it, but the way you looked at him before a small smirk came onto your face rendered him, every spider sense screaming for him to get the hell out.

Suddenly, you whistled a soft tune. Your cunning smile still on your face as you walked around Miles, his eyes following you, a mistake.

Miles watched as a figure dressed in a familiar but different suit jumped from the rooftop of another building, Miles thought to escape but couldn't, already punched down to the floor.

"Too bad. He's pretty cute."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles woke up with a pain, his body felt constricted and his sight blurred as everything hurt.

He couldn't remember where he was or what happened for a moment before his eyes shot open, the panic setting in.

Miles was chained to a punching bag, looking around frantically before he saw you.

Your back was turned to him, working at a desk peacefully.

Miles breathed heavily, panicking as he moved around, making the chains clink together and catching your attention.

You perked up quickly, turning around to look at him as you took out an earphone, looking him over like he was some sort of joke.

You then smiled, a smile he once loved, but a smile he now couldn't place and one he was growing to hate.

You whistled softly once more, a soft alert as you put down everything onto the desk, now leaning against it as you waited.

Miles was too stunned to speak, trying to find the words before he stopped as he looked up, seeing the one who rendered him unconscious now hanging from a support beam, dropping down quickly.

Miles stared at him as he stared back, his masked face concealing his identity.

Miles watched almost fearfully as panic rose again, spider senses hay-wire as the masked one got closer, close enough for Miles to look at his face directly.

"Take off the fucking mask. It's not scaring anyone, babe."

Miles glanced at you, seemingly shocked and hurt as you called him babe.

But Miles was even more shocked as he heard the one in the mask sigh, the mask coming off a moment later to stun Miles even more.

Under the mask, resided his face.

Miles Morales' exact copy was under the mask, or at least, him in this world.

Miles could only watch as the formerly masked Miles glared at him before his copy walked over to you, forced to watch as you smiled up at him.

Miles could feel his heart beating and almost cracking as you glanced at him, the same smug smile on your lips as your Miles stood close to you.

Your Miles slipped his hand onto your neck, kissing your forehead before he went to your lips, and greedily, you accepted his kiss.

Miles knew a lot in his life, and that was that he loved his (Name) and she loved him.

You were not his (Name).

His (Name) died for him.

You would be the death of him.

#across the spider verse x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse spoilers #into the spiderverse x reader #into the spider verse #miles morales earth 42 x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader

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yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

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Yandere Head Canons:

Romantic Homicide

Yandere assassin x divorcee afab reader

You had a hit placed on you by your ex monster in law. That nightmare of a woman couldn’t stand how her son had loved you so much and didn’t have his undivided attention on her (emotional incest??). Yet it wasn’t enough that the two of you are now divorced, she wanted you dead for breaking her son’s heart. Even though she was the main source of your separation. The reason why you could no longer be with the man you loved. The painful thorn stuck in your side that you finally couldn’t stand. So you removed yourself from the equation.

It didn’t matter that your ex, Vincent, sobbed and begged for you to not leave him on his hands and knees like a dog. The wealthy man sniveled at your feet and yet you could not find the strength in yourself to fight this battle any longer. The monster can have her precious son, you deserved to be happy.

Vincent had no backbone. You put up with so much verbal and even physical abuse from his mother due to your common background, and he never stood up for you. Sure Vincent would cry and apologize to you for his mother, but he never stood up to her. He was a coward. Vincent could use as many honeyed words as he pleased but they would no longer be told to you. You were hardened now and had no motivation left to fight… yet his mother wanted you dead for leaving him. She needed to make up her mind on what she wanted from you.

When you divorced Vincent Beau, you didn’t even accept any alimony because you didn’t want any of the filthy money from his family. And yet his mother, Manon, despised you even more for it… that strange woman.

So here you were in your bed with a masked hitman with wild green eyes wild and a sharp blade pressed to your neck. The thinnest of cuts formed on your neck as blood slowly pooled around your head like a grotesque halo. His breathing ragged and his voice deep like the bottomless ocean. “Any last words?”

You hummed and thought for a moment. How kind of a hitman to offer you any final words… yet you could focus on nothing else but his beautiful green eyes.

Vincent and Manon were far on your mind. It was simply your killer and you in this small world. Should you even offer the man any words? You didn’t care to beg for your life seeing to it that your monster in law would do anything to rid the world of your very existence even if he did let you go.

You stared deeply into his wild green eyes that reminded you of a forest. The ones you’d see in a National Geographic magazine. They were so unlike the cognac brown eyes of Vincent. You wondered if his face was as handsome as his piercing eyes.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You gave him a small smile and shut your eyes to wait for the final blow.

A moment passed and then another… yet it never came. The knife was flung carelessly across the room with a loud clang. Large, gloved hands roughly grabbed your face as his lips were suddenly pressed against yours. His stubble tickled your face while his mouth eagerly moved against yours.

You couldn’t even register whether or not you wanted to kiss back since he pulled away like had been burned. His gloved hands quickly shoved the mask back on before you could catch a glimpse of his face.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long… to think you feel the same way as me…” You squeaked when he scooped you up into his arms to carry you out of your home. “I just have to burn this whole place down so she thinks you’re dead… then we can be together.”

You’re as confused as a newly born fawn. This man seemed to know you but you had no idea who he was… did you know him? He seemed familiar with Manon but then again, she was a socialite. He could be anyone…

He unceremoniously shoved you into the trunk of his car. His green eyes lit up like a child on Christmas Day. “Don’t make a sound, okay? We have to convince mother that you died.”

And when the trunk door closed and left you in complete darkness, his identity finally clicked in your brain.

Acheros Beau, Vincent’s half brother and the illegitimate son of the Beau family. The family’s darkest secret and now your delusional captor who believed you were in love with him.

You hugged your knees from within the car’s trunk as you felt yourself shiver. What on earth have you done to capture the amorous feelings of a deranged psychopath?

You didn’t know whether to be grateful to your situation or horrified. Maybe it would have been better to die in the comfort of your home rather than await what terrible fate may lie ahead… more time could tell. For now you would count the seconds until you woke up from this realistic nightmare.

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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A Wife's Only Duty

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Aemond • Targaryen x wife • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, toxic relation, violence, marital rape, choking, character death ]

[ description: The war changes Aemond beyond recognition, and his wife becomes the target of his eternal abuse, also in bed. One day, however, he crosses the limits and has to face the consequences. Angst, violence, marital rape, very dark!Aemond. ]

This oneshot is an Anon Request and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these oneshots will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

____

At the beginning of their marriage he was terrified. He had no idea how to handle this young, gentle girl who, by his parents' decision, became his wife. Her presence embarrassed him, he hid his feelings behind a mask of indifference and hostility, he deliberately did not allow her to get close to him even when she tried.

He had had a few one-off adventures with servants before marrying her, but at the time he cared less for their fulfilment than for his own, treating them like vessels in which he drained his seed.

During their wedding night, he didn't know how to act, her face pale and frightened, he guessed her mother had warned her that the act would only be pleasurable for him.

He ordered her to lie on her stomach and she did so without a word. He told her to lift her hips and spread her thighs, and she did. He liked how meek and obedient she was and thought he would try to be gentle, that way he would reward her.

He heard her breathing hard and stifling sounds of discomfort as he entered her, as he began to move slowly inside her, panting hard, her hands clenched on the pillow. She was tighter than he had expected, her walls squeezing him from all sides, giving him pleasure he had never experienced before.

Unwittingly, he began to slide faster into her, panting louder and louder, her sounds of discomfort becoming more pronounced, he heard her cry out softly.

"− quiet −" He exhaled coolly, for she tightened her lips and fell silent, taking what he was giving her, cuddling her face into the pillow, obediently waiting for the end, which came soon after.

He cum inside her with a loud sound of relief and found to his surprise that he was satisfied.

"− you did well, wife −" He praised her with a low murmur, sliding out her slowly, and she breathed a sigh of relief, her whole body quivering.

He let her stay with him that night, she moved away from him to the other end of the bed and did not speak to him. The next day at breakfast, he saw that she sat up in pain, a look of discomfort painted on her face that she tried to hide by adopting at least a partially satisfied expression. She tried to start a light discussion about nothing, but he was not interested in that and remained silent.

After several of their close-ups, something changed, since she directed his hand between her thighs as he slid into her with deep, sure movements, since he discovered the point between her folds, her insides became exceptionally moist and sticky, no more gasps of exertion came from her lips, only moans, her insides clenched against him.

"− please, husband − touch me like this −" She mumbled, and he felt his manhood throbbing hard at her words, some kind of pride and satisfaction filled his chest, so he did as she asked.

That night was the first time he had seen female fulfilment.

Since then she had sought the closeness of his body herself, unable to bond with him outside of bed, approaching him in this way, and he had not spurned her. He could consider that at this point their marital life was quite successful, approaching what might be called a bond, even if only carnal, still close.

And then Luke died because of his stupidity.

He saw a change in her, her face, her eyes no longer lit up with desire at the sight of him, he saw pain and horror in her, she blamed him for starting the war, for making them no longer safe.

"What is the meaning of that look, sweet wife?" He asked, staring at her watchfully, his fingers rubbing against each other in a gesture of frustration that she knew all too well. She swallowed loudly, apparently wondering strenuously how to ease his anger.

"Forgive me. I'm terrified." She whispered, and he, without knowing why, burst into laughter. He approached her and she took a step back, her eyes wide.

He didn't like that.

"Come here. Come here, I say." He hissed, furious as she tried to pull away from him, his hand clamped tightly on her shoulder. He turned her around with her back to him and forced her to bend over, but she still tried to break free.

"− no − please − please, husband, I don't want to −" She mumbled out with difficulty, her voice and body trembling, her tiny fingers clenched helplessly on his skin. He pressed his lips to her ear.

"− you don't want to? − are you disgusted with your kinslayer husband? hm? − you swore to me, you fucking whore −" He growled furiously, struggling against her, pulling up her skirt in a violent motion, grabbing her head by her hair and pressing her cheek against the table.

She cried out loudly as he entered her suddenly and violently, panting hard, sliding into her hard and fast.

"− that's it − fucking take it −" He growled out, pumping his length into her so fast and aggressively that he felt like he was going to pierce through her stomach, her sobs mixed with her moans.

He slipped his hand between her thighs, teasing her pearl in circular, slow motions, her lips parted, horror and indecision on her face, her walls throbbing on him suddenly. He licked his lips feeling it.

"− just like that − that's my good wife − it's okay now, I forgive you −" He breathed out, fucking her with all his strength, the sticky, loud slapping of flesh against flesh echoing through his chamber. He chuckled under his breath as he felt her come suddenly, moaning and whimpering, her legs trembling all over as waves of pleasure ran through her body.

"− fucking knew it − greedy little whore −"

From then on, their rapprochements became more and more violent and aggressive because of him, because of what had happened to Aegon, because of what had happened to Helaena, because of Alys, whom he fucked every time he appeared in Harrenhal, because she was expecting his bastard child and his wife still hadn't given him an heir.

"− you drink Moon Tea, don't you? − say it, or I'll strangle you −" He growled, his cock slamming against her back wall again and again, pushing her walls to their limits, his two hands clenched on her neck. She cried out, all pale, shaking her head.

"− no − no −" She mumbled wearily, and he pressed his lips together, looking at her with rage.

"− fucking whore − you think I'm an idiot? − that I don't know? − that I don't know that you hate me, that you abhor the thought that you could bear my child? −" He wailed in despair, feeling like he was about to burst into sobs for some reason, her eyes rolled back, her breath caught in her throat.

If he had let her go then, she would have been able to tell him that she was expecting his offspring.

His hands held her neck in an iron grip until he finally reached his peak inside her with a growl of pain and relief. He looked at her face, panting heavily, her eyes empty, her body lying still.

She was not breathing.

He let go of her suddenly, looking at her with wide eyes, his hands trembling in the air. He touched her cheek and patted her lightly, as if he wanted to wake her from her slumber.

"My love? My love, wake up. I didn't really mean it, I would never hurt you." He babbled out with difficulty, his throat tighten, his heart pounding like mad, he felt like his head was spinning.

She didn't react, her absent gaze fixed somewhere far away, into nothingness, her lips slightly parted, her body soft and relaxed.

He whined like an animal, pressing his face to her cheek, holding her still warm body close, the tears he hadn't let fall for years dripping down his face.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − please, forgive me −" He cried out in despair, cradling her in his arms like a small child, stroking her hair. He lowered her onto his bed again, stroking her cheek, kissing her nose, her forehead, her lips as tenderly and gently as ever.

"− please, wake up − please, I promise I'll change −" He mumbled, but it was too late, all that remained was her empty body, her heart no longer beating, on her neck bruises from the grip of his hands.

She ran away from him where he could no longer hurt her.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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angelcakestarlet · 3 months

Text

salvatore

richie jerimovich x reader - richie makes carmy regret hiring the cute young waitress

wrote dis quick, messy, nd did not look over it but enjoy! :>

"so um look, natalie is going to be training you this week alright" carmy informs you as he sifts through a pile of papers scattering his desk. "you ever serve before?", "for a few months yeah, it's been getting me through college so" you twiddle your thumbs nervously. the restaurant was certainly... intimidating? going to school in chicago you had stopped by a couple times for lunch or drunk off your ass after the club. even while slurring your words you could remember how fucking good that sandwich was. even if most of it was puked up in the bushes out front.

"yo, cousin!" an abrasive voice comes stumbling through carmy's office door without warning, "sugar is out here telling me some bullshit about you hiring servers? look we don't need that shit. a sandwich comes out i fucking hand it to them, boom. why are you gonna pay some dipshit to do it for me?". you turn around to face the loud voice, being met with a tall, tan, buzzcut typical line cook with a deep accent. "jesus fucking christ, one of these 'dipshits' is standing in front of you richie." carmy yells back, obviously pained to have you witness that. "ah shit-" richie steps back to get a full length view of you, taking you in. his gaze felt like an intrusion. "i'm sorry, doll, richie jerimovich." he envelopes your hand in his calloused and rough one, introducing himself. "you know what i'm sorry, cousin, anyone with a set of eyes would hire her too" he snickers, with his hand still atop yours he takes his eyes away from you to acknowledge carmen. "cousin, get the fuck out, you fucking creep!" signaling for the door. "oh my god" richie sighs dramatically, "i'm stating the fucking obvious alright, you need marcus to come in here to tell you the same thing? yo, marcus!" carmen rushes to shove richie out the door, "i'm sorry, i couldn't help myself! look, you're beautiful, sweetheart!" he lets out one last compliment. you giggle to yourself and the man making a spectacle of himself.

carmen shuts the office door and sighs, rubbing his forehead with his tired hand. "i'm sorry, he's... he's a fucking jagoff." you appreciate the apology, but having worked in a restaurant has you accustomed to the snickers and comments from line cooks and customers alike. most of the girls usually brush it off, leaving them disgusted and a distaste for the job for the next few hours. but, your guilty pleasure has become using it to your benefit. free food from cooks, more money from tips, etc. you're sure you could work richie to your benefit just the same. "don't worry about it, he seems... nice" your ease settles carmy and he snickers, "you could say that i guess".

you follow natalie around the restaurant for the next few hours as she takes you through the front of the house and back, introducing you to everyone and all the standards. when five o clock hits, she lets you go, handing you an apron, a t-shirt. and a name tag. thanking her and setting out to find the back alley for a quick ciggy. you find richie lighting a cigarette in the dimly lit alley, "can i bum a cigarette?" you sit down beside him, smelling the smoke clinging to his shirt. "its your first day and you're asking me for shit?" he looks over at you and you notice his evident wrinkles, veins in his neck, and tired eyes. "pretty please?" you look up at him, turning your whole body to face him with a sweet smile on your face. he rolls his eyes playfully, "you know what you're doing huh?" he says as he pulls one more cigarette from its box. "open." you scrunch your eyebrows, confused at his request. his eyes shift to your lips, taking two fingers and tapping your cheek signaling for you to open your mouth. "come on," you separate your lips and he places a cigarette between them, lighting it swiftly. you feel your cheeks get warm, from the cigarette or from his words you don't know (yes you do). "thank you" you say quietly, still stunned a bit. "you know you're gonna ruin that sweet face smoking" he coughs through the lit cigarette. "oh are you telling me what to do now, richie?" you lean back, eyes entranced by the way his hands make the cigarette almost look like a lollipop stick. "a girl like you is probably looking for someone to tell her what to do, sweetheart". as you're trying to figure out whether that just pissed you off or turned you on, carmy bursts through the back door. "cousin, what the fuck are you doing?! we need you in the kitchen, now please! and leave the new girl alone, jesus" carmy yells as richie stomps on what's left of his cigarette and puts his hands up in defense. "i'm coming, fuck off. it was a pleasure, babe" he shakes your hand and makes his way inside. you peer at the closed door, listening to the muffled argument carmy and richie have in front of it. great first day.

#richie jerimovich #the bear #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear hulu #the bear imagine #richie jerimovich imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

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dragonsareverycool · 20 days

Text

A Brothers Reunion

The small summoning circle lit up, casting a soft green glow, as two eyes watched it with weary hope.

��—————————————————

Two demons argued violently about a soul, and Danny sighed from his spot on the throne that fully claimed him a month ago. While he still found it hilarious how thoroughly this guy managed to swindle so many of the high ranking demons, it had started to cross into annoying territory. Danny was seriously considering making a whole office dedicated specifically to hold all the paperwork one ‘John Constantine’ was seemingly generating with his very presence. Suddenly, Danny felt a soft tug on his core, much gentler then the summoning rituals of all those crazy cultists that keep popping out of nowhere used. More like the circles he gave to Sam Tucker or Jazz. But he could feel the summoner’s emotions, and the poor guy on the other end felt like he was about to cry.

Danny mentally went through everyone he’s given his personal line to. Then, he shot up and called for Fright Knight to send the demons away while Danny quickly allowed himself to be pulled through the summoning circle to where his brother waited anxiously.

——————————————————

The circle flared, and a large eldrich like figure quickly crawled through. Then, a very familiar voice muttered

“Man I wish these things weren’t so dramatic. I already scared the shit out of the justice league because of it” as the being’s form shifted to the more familiar form he took when seeing Damian for the first time in a decade. His white hair looked a little longer now, and his eyes a less toxic green.

“Danyal” Damian said stiffly. Danny looked up, making eye contact with Damian before responding

“Damian” in response Damian lunged, pressing a blade to Danny’s neck before asking a question only Danny could answer.

“What’s the last story you told me?” Danny simply smiled nostalgically,

“There’s the Damian I know. I told you about Canis Minor 16 days before I died the first time.” Damian heasitated before putting away his weapon and paused before he quickly started to hug Danny, who returned the hug.

“… first time?” Damian asked, still in Danny’s arms.

“Mother didn’t tell you what happened to me after, did she?” Danny asked into his twins hair. Damian didn’t even bother to say anything and just turned his head to look at Danny balefully, before Danny sighed and said

“Of course she didn’t. I was dunked into the Lazarus pits, before mother dropped me off in the middle of nowhere America, where she forbade me from ever talking about my old life or ever attempting to contact you.” Damian paused to process this, before saying

“And the second time?” Danny sighed at that, his face set into a grimace. Damian started to move, bringing Danyal over to his bed, where Danny realized Damian had summoned Danny in his room. Damian sat them both onto his bed, and curled further into Danny’s arms, while gesturing to continue.

“I was adopted by a couple who claimed to be ‘ectobiologists’ who already had an older daughter named Jazz. She’s my sister.” Damian nodded solemnly at that, mentally adding ‘Jazz’ to his list of siblings. Danny pulled out his brick of a phone and started showing Damian pictures of his adoptive parents, his sister and everything else as he spoke about it. “They’d been working on a project in their lab since before they adopted me, longer then they’re had Jazz even. When I was fourteen, they finally tried to turn it on. It failed. It was a portal to what they called ‘The Ghost Zone’, but that realm is much more. The Infinite Realms are the glue that holds all universes together, and its a kind of afterlife. They didn’t know half of that, only that some souls of humans who died stay there, and even then, they thought that these ghosts were only a husk of their former selves, and couldn’t feel pain.” Damian started to connect the dots at that and asked

“You’re one of these ghosts?” It was almost a statement, but Damian wasn’t going to make many assumptions. Danny nodded before continuing

“I had two friends who convinced me to show them the failed portal. I walked inside of the portal we assumed was completely defunct, and I tripped over one of the many wires on the floor. When I tried to stabilize myself, I hit the on button.” Damian’s eyes widened, and he froze while Danny paused. After a moment, Danny continued, saying “My adoptive parents had connected the portal to the towns power grid, and the portal opened up on top of me. Electricity and ectoplasm, what ghosts and the Infinite Realms are made of, clashed inside my body, killing me and reviving me repeatedly until the portal finally spit me back out. I only half died that day.” Danny put his phone away and focused on playing with Damian’s hair. Damian reveled in his brothers affectionate touch like when they were small.

“Half?” Damian asks after a minute or two.

“Half. I technically have several ghost forms, and I have a human form” Damian looked up from Danyal’s arms, his eyes asking the obvious question he was a little afraid to ask, though he’d never admit it. Danny smiled at the unasked question, and rings of light formed around him, before dissipating and revealing a very much alive eighteen year old Danyal Nightingale. He grabbed one of Damian’s hands and pressed it against his neck, allowing Damian to revel in feeling his former dead brother’s pulse. Damian tested Danny’s wrist, and put his ear against Danny’s now warm chest.

Damian will deny the appearance of tears to his death, but Danny didn’t say anything, he just held Damian closer. After a while Danyal started to talk about the stars. Filling the silence with quiet but passionate rambling about stars and space. It was familiar. It was safe and warm and then Richard ruined the moment by slamming open Damian’s door yelling about a ‘Family Game Night’ and got a knife for his troubles. Of course he dodged with practiced ease, but then he realized Damian wasn’t alone in his room. Time seemed to freeze at the stand off. Dick had frozen, as the joy on his face seemed to leach away at the realization that there was an intruder.

#sorry for the cliffhanger #I have no idea what else to write #You can tell who’s pov is being focused on by how people are referred to #didn’t even realize I was doing it till like half way through #dpxdc #demon twins au #demon twins #be fed foul creatures #seems y’all like what awful concoctions I make so here #feel free to use as inspo #I would like credit if only so I can tell and be so happy that my work has inspired more #I am chronically online so I’ll probably see it #unless it’s on twi- I mean X #it’s a disease and I don’t have my shots #also yes Dick is indeed jealous of this rando being able to hold Damian and give him affection without the threat of bodily harm lmao

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anqelically · 1 year

Text

you don't get to cry | osamu dazai x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

content: no manga spoilers, angst, death, blood, past unhealthy relationship with dazai

navi | bsd masterlist

attachment to something you hold dear is a curse. it becomes your weakness, something that can be both exposed and exploited. the demon prodigy of the port mafia had no weakness. that was until you came along.

what dazai learns to love is lost— taken away and gone forever. why must he live in a world that does such? living such a life becomes nothing but a pain; a thorn in your side that’ll make you relieved once it’s out.

oh, you were all too similar to him.

when dazai first stumbled upon you, he had only been in the port mafia for a couple of months. a young child taken in by mori and hidden away from everyone else, that’s all you were.

you were sitting, gloved hands playing with a toy when he walked into your room (it was more like a cell). you thought it was mori, so you dared to look him in the eye. normally, you’d kill anyone who got a good look at you, but you found yourself unable to activate your ability.

so you ended up screaming.

with your nails painfully scratching your cheeks, you yelled, even when it hurt to. mori rushed to you, trying to subdue your cries when your eyes lit up. if it weren’t for dazai, he was sure he would’ve died that day. and you, the child taken away from your guardians and forced to serve under mori, would’ve been his killer.

you didn’t see dazai again for years. the next time she showed up, it was with an orange-haired boy that seemed his age, maybe a bit younger. he came to fetch you because mori told him you had a job to do.

a job? you don’t get anything in return. this was a task you had to carry out. if you didn’t, mori made it clear he’d slit your throat with one of the scalpels he always carries around. you were just another kid forced into a life of bloodshed and death through manipulation. dazai was just the other side of the same coin.

he seemed to deal with it much better than you did. his blood was as black as his clothes, stained with the crimes he had committed with such ease. cunning and manipulative, dazai was a force to be reckoned with.

so it was odd that the two of you somewhat began to get along. you worked in the shadows of the port mafia, so much so that a lot of members didn’t believe you actually existed. the only one that knew you— your name, ability, and could see through your mind was dazai. the two of you were children of darkness, locked in a room stripped of any light.

with someone so similar to him, dazai found the capacity to genuinely care for you. you, mori’s toy, also learned that you didn’t want or need the man. dazai understood you, he cared for you, and he’d help you. you needed dazai, otherwise you would be all alone again with no one else. oh dazai knew it wasn’t healthy at all, how you’d cling onto him and constantly ask him to stay with you, but having someone hold onto him like that made him feel just a bit better.

and that’s why it was unfortunate when he left the port mafia.

you crumbled without him and fell into the hole that would kill you. the four years after he defected from the port mafia pass by in a bloody blur. people used to question your existence, but you racked up so many kills, gaining the attention of many, that they knew you were real. police and or mafia, they knew who you were at this point. you were ruthless, so much so that even akutagawa didn’t even dare to cross your path.

the number of lives you had taken couldn’t be reversed, so the government planned to put you to a stop.

your ability allowed you to set whatever you wanted ablaze just by looking at it. it was so dangerous that it even harmed you, the one who wields the power. the day dazai met you, you only let out that horrifying scream because he saw the burn marks on part of your face.

you were young, unable to control your ability when you accidentally set your own home on fire. it killed the rest of your family and left you with burns on bits of your body.

that was how you met mori, the man that pushed you onto this dark path. you just happened to have the wrong doctor treat you, and now you had to live your life as a wanted criminal. though, the crimes you committed started to be out of your violation at one point.

soon enough, the government hands your case over to a certain agency— the armed detective agency. their goal is to arrest you and send you to a prison on another continent. but what if they can’t contain you? then, the answer is simple.

the armed detective agency will be the one to take you down for good.

you thought that you could burn them down with ease, but they immediately pulled out their trump card. he stood tall in front of you, his attire much different than what you last saw him in. there was a certain glow to dazai’s body that you couldn’t put your finger on.

the brunette stood in front of you with no fear, that was obvious to anyone. it was only because he knew you wouldn’t kill him by setting him on fire. you didn’t have the heart to do such a thing to him, even if he left you.

“long time no see. i’ve heard a lot about what you’ve been up to these past years.” his nonchalant voice is silky smooth, despite the fact that you were able to set everything around the two of you on fire.

you glare at him, hurt flashing your eyes, “and i haven’t heard a thing.”

dazai sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. his expression turns serious, “turn yourself in, y/n. it’s for the best.”

“ha, what will you do if i don’t?”

“we’ll take you down ourselves.”

you hear a click as dazai points a gun at you. setting the firearm ablaze would only end up with it shooting on its own, so you don’t try. you’re also suddenly hyperaware of the other presences around. you know the other members of the agency are around, so you suddenly feel the urge to ask…

“why’d you leave me for them?” you shake. “you left me without a word. the last thing you said to me was that you wouldn’t leave me behind! so why? why’d you leave for them…?”

dazai replied calmly, “i have my reasons.”

you squint your eyes, realizing that he wouldn’t dare to reveal the truth in front of his colleagues. you were right, they must not know much about him. letting out your pent-up emotions, you fought the agency.

you were a monster, most of them thought. not only was your ability dangerous, but your fighting skills were as well. they were limited in what they could use due to your ability, which made it even harder. you weren’t afraid of setting them on fire, but fighting them on your own and beating them seemed much more satisfying.

but in the end, you, for once, were defeated. you lay in your expanding pool of blood, the bullets to your chest being the most fatal of your wounds. if the agency didn’t have their doctor on their side, you were sure you would’ve won.

the one to shoot you was dazai himself. as you bled, he walked towards your body. his expression was blank, and you weren’t sure what to say. you even activated your ability and burnt two of the agency’s members. but their doctor, akiko yosano, used her ability to heal them and return them to their normal state.

all of the killing you’ve done and this was how you met your end.

“it was only a matter of time until this happened,” he said, still standing by you.

“i guess you’re right,” you turn to the side, not wanting to look at him. “but i couldn’t even take out one of your friends, could i?”

silence ensued and you remained bleeding on the floor. you heard the clicking of heels approaching from behind, but you resisted the urge to turn around. you knew it was their healer, and you wished for her to go away. you wanted to speak with dazai one last time to put your mind at ease.

“did… did you hate me?” you ask. yosano gives dazai a glance behind your back, but he doesn’t reciprocate. “i’m sorry if i was annoying… i- i just wanted to stay with you. i’m sorry… i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m-“

“i could’ve taken you with me,” dazai interrupted your train of apologies, “but i chose not to. you needed to stand on your own two feet, y/n. but now, i see that decision wasn’t the right one.”

you hear dazai sigh, so you turn around to find him kneeling by your side. you watch as he unbuttoned the top of his collared shirt and reaches for something inside. what he pulls out is the end of a necklace.

“y-you,” your eyes widen, “you kept it…”

he hummed, rubbing the silver chain between his fingers, “i truly cherish it, believe it or not. i don’t hate you, y/n. i could never hate you. i would’ve taken you with me, but i was in a sorry state myself. what you needed at that time wasn’t me, but to learn how to live without someone like me. maybe if i went about it a different way, things wouldn’t have to be this way.”

your eyes began to sting as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. you were scared, and it was obvious. you reached for dazai’s hand, and he let you take it. he caressed your cheek with his free one.

“i hate mori,” you tell him as you cry. “i didn’t want to kill, b-but he told me that i was made for it. and i… i thought he was right. he saved me, so i thought it had to be true. my ability is made for killing, but me? i let myself turn into a monster… but even so, i’m glad that i got you… you, who was in the same situation as i… why couldn't we have met as normal kids? why?”

you weakly squeeze his hand, “dazai, i don’t want to go… but-.”

“i know,” he responded. “i know.”

in silence, he sits by you as the light fades away from your eyes. your hand continues to hold his as it grows cold, and dazai can’t seem to let you go. he was sure he loved you, but your whole relationship was ill-timed. maybe in another life, like you wished, you’d meet him again under normal circumstances.

“ah,” dazai is surprised at the droplet that hits your cheek. his face hardens as he whispers to himself, “you don’t get to cry.”

he killed you, after all.

note: this is kinda messy i'm sorry 😭😭 i love it but hate it skjsk but you guys are the real judges. request is here

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@nagicore @enomane @er0ses @spenzitz @wineaddict2904 @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ashthemadwriter @sanjis-fav-w1fe @bejeweledgirl

#୨୧ [ writing ]#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd oneshot #bsd imagines #bsd angst #dazai angst #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs

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cherryrainn · 11 months

Note

Can u pls write for Charlie with a fem!child!reader that has the same curse as Kenny from South Park? Like, she dies, stays in hell for a few hours, or a day and then is back to being alive and fine until she dies again and the cycle repeats over and over again. Maybe the reader has black wings and a broken halo too? I just love the fallen angel trope lmao

i love this! i just know im gonna enjoy writing this lmao. thank you for the ask!

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰

— the curse within

charlie morningstar x female! child! reader with kennys curse (platonic)

in the bustling realm of hell, where lost souls wandered and demons roamed, stood a peculiar establishment known as the happy hotel. high above, among the towering structures, was a sanctuary run by the ambitious and compassionate princess of hell, charlie morningstar.

one fateful day, as charlie went about her duties, a mysterious presence stirred within the hotel. the doors swung open to reveal you, a young girl with ebony wings spread wide and a broken halo perched atop your head. your eyes held a mix of curiosity and weariness, as if you had seen more than your tender age should allow.

charlie's heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with the fallen angel before her.

a bright smile lit up charlie's face as she spotted you.

"well, hello there! what brings you to the happy hotel?" she asked, her voice resonating with warmth and kindness.

you hesitated for a moment

but something about charlie's presence put you at ease

"i… i'm trapped in this never-ending cycle. i die, i come to hell or heaven, and then i'm alive again… only to die once more."

charlie's eyes widened in surprise, her expression filled with both concern and curiosity.

"i've never heard of this before... how long has this been happening to you?"

you shrugged, a sense of resignation weighing heavily upon your shoulders.

"i've lost track of time. it feels like an eternity."

charlie's compassionate nature took over as she reached out to you, offering a comforting gesture.

"you're not alone here, you know. maybe we can find a way to break this cycle together?"

you stared at charlie in disbelief, a flicker of hope igniting within your shattered heart.

could it be true? could there truly be a chance for escape from this never-ending nightmare?

as your journey with charlie progressed, you found yourself encountering the other members of the happy hotel, each with their own unique quirks and stories.

first, you met vaggie, charlie's loyal and fiery girlfriend.

vaggies fiery and piercing gaze matched her strong-willed personality. initially skeptical of your presence, she soon softened as she witnessed your struggle firsthand. vaggie became a protective figure, watching over you like a guardian, always ready to jump into action when danger loomed.

then there was angel dust, a sassy and flamboyant spider demon who dazzled with his extravagant outfits and sharp wit.

despite his rough exterior, angel dust possessed a hidden vulnerability that mirrored your own. he understood the pain of being trapped in cycles and offered a sympathetic ear whenever you needed to vent your frustrations.

next, you met the charming and enigmatic radio demon, alastor.

his refined demeanor and charismatic smile concealed a darker nature. alastor was fascinated by your curse, viewing it as a unique opportunity for entertainment. though cautious of his true intentions, you couldn't deny the intrigue he held, and you engaged in many thought-provoking conversations about the nature of your predicament.

additionally, there was husk, a grumpy and world-weary feline demon who served as the hotel's bartender.

husk had seen it all and had a devil-may-care attitude to match. despite his cynical outlook, he showed surprising empathy and became an unexpected source of comfort during your moments of despair.

last but not least, you encountered niffty, a hyperactive and obsessive-compulsive demon with an affinity for cleanliness.

niffty's vibrant personality and boundless energy brought a sense of lightness to the hotel.

one day, everyone was chilling in the lounge.

however, there was a noticeable absence among them — you, the young fallen angel with the cursed cycle of life and death.

charlie's brow furrowed with worry as she glanced around the room.

"has anyone seen y/n? it's been a while since we last saw her."

vaggie leaned against the armrest of the couch, concern etched on her face.

"she vanished again, remember? it's that cursed cycle of hers. she'll be back eventually... like always"

alastor leaned back in his chair, a sly smile creeping onto his face.

"ah, the unpredictability of y/n's curse. it's quite amusing, don't you think? never a dull moment."

angel dust twirled a lock of his hair, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"you know, i bet she's off causing mischief somewhere. probably enjoying her time on earth while we're stuck down here forever."

husk stayed silent.

niffty bounced up and down with excitement, her hands clasped together.

"maybe she found a new bakery or a cute little tea shop up there! i can't wait to hear about her adventures when she's back!"

despite the attempts to lighten the mood, charlie's worry remained evident. she fiddled with her bowtie, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"i know y/n disappears like all the time, but it still bothers me. she's been gone for a while now. what if she's being careful now? making sure she'll be there for a while?"

a sudden gust of wind swept through the room, causing papers to flutter and candles to flicker. the familiar sensation of magic tingled in the air, alerting everyone to a presence.

and just like that, you reappeared in the center of the lounge, your black wings outstretched and your broken halo slightly askew. the room fell silent as all eyes turned to you, a mixture of relief and curiosity washing over their faces.

angel dust smirked, his voice laced with teasing.

"looks like someone couldn't resist our charming company, huh? i wonder what your friends think.."

charlie's eyes widened with relief and worry. she rushed to your side, embracing you tightly.

"y/n! oh, thank lucifer you're back. i was so worried. how long were you gone this time?"

you smiled at her, the warmth of her presence soothing your soul. "i don't know, i got hit by a car though."

charlie's grip tightened, her voice filled with concern.

"i can't imagine what it's like for you, going through that over and over again. it must be... tough."

you nodded, your gaze meeting hers.

"it's definitely hard, but knowing i have a place to come back to makes it bearable."

charlie held your hand, her thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

#charlie morningstar #y/n #reader insert #x reader #fluff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshot #alastor #husk #angel dust #vaggie #niffty #charlie magne #platonic #child reader #kennys curse #ask #request #this was fun

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bloodlust-1 · 3 months

Note

Might I make a request for subby Gortash? I want that man on his knees, begging.

-@thewildrover

To answer this, hell yes. Im here for it give me all that freaky mean shit. Let's get into iiitttt!!!

hope you like it @thewildrover !

On His Knees

Gortash x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: After waking up to find himself bound on his knees, Gortash realizes he is at the mercy of Tav's wrath. However, her anger quickly transforms into seduction as she manipulates him with her charms. Left with nothing but his desire to please her, Gortash is determined to make her his by any means necessary.

T/W: smut! Blood, abuse

Notes: This is a little raunchy so if that's what you're into then by all means ;p he’s subby for the first half

Gortash eyes fluttered open, and he groaned to the throbbing headache and aching joints. He was on his knees, hands and feet bound to a pillar in the center of a dimly lit room.

How the fuck did I get here?

Confused and disoriented, Gortash tried to recall how he got there. The last thing he remembered was the way the alcohol burned his throat at the tavern earlier that day. He must've blacked out.

footsteps echoed around him, and when the figure came closer, Gortash's heart skipped a beat. It was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She had long dark hair, smooth curves, and a stern expression on her face.

Tav, stood over him, with her eyebrows furrowed. Interesting, he thought she sided with Orin.

"Why am I tied up like this?" Gortash demanded, trying to sound confident and unfazed.

"You are a despicable excuse for a human being, Gortash," Tav spat, her voice filled with disgust. "You have caused so much pain and suffering, and now it's time for you to pay for your crimes."

Gortash couldn't help but laugh at Tav's words. He had always been attracted to strong, powerful women, and Tav was no exception. Seeing her standing there, with her hands on her hips, only made him more excited.

"Is that so?" he teased, dripping with sarcasm. "And what punishment do you have in mind for me, my dear Tav? Are you going to beat me to a pulp?"

Tav rolled her eyes and shook her head. Gods he is such a fucking scoundrel.

"You think this is funny? You think it's amusing to mock me?" Tav snapped, her voice trembling with frustration.

Gortash's laugh died down and a grin tugged at his lips. He continued to ridicule Tav between chuckles. Gortash couldn't help himself. The more she scolded him, the more turned-on he became.

Tav walked towards Gortash, and gripped a handful of his hair, "I heard your plans to get rid of me. How dare you ever try to lay a hand on me and my friends," she said, her voice low and menacing.

Gortash's heart raced as Tav leaned in closer, her face just inches away from his. He could feel her breath on his skin, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Tav clenched her fists and threw a punch at his face, and she continued to mercilessly beat him. Blood streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat that dripped from his forehead.

Gortash could just groan as her fists connected to his face.

Gortash licked his lips and smiled up at Tav. There was a seductive glint in his eyes, a look that sent shivers down Tav's spine. Tav pulled back her raw bloodied fists as she studied his face.

Was he enjoying this?

And there it was, the bulge in his pants.

The frown, the passion in her voice, her eyes, and fuck why did this turn him on so much. Gortash didn't expect Tav to be so beautifully enraged.

Tav smirked, he was just another pathetic sex-driven man. Of course, he's attracted to her, and she decided to use it to her advantage.

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in a different way," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear.

Gortash's heart skipped a beat as Tav's words sent a wave of desire through him. The bulge in his pants twitched in anticipation.

As Tav pulled away, Gortash grinned. He had always been a troublemaker, and it seemed like he had finally found someone who could bring up his cock.

"Do your worst, pussy," Gortash scoffed threw the slick of blood that streamed down his face. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Without warning, she lunged forward and pressed her lips against his, tasting the metallic tang of blood mixed with alcohol. Gortash responded eagerly, his hands straining against the ropes that bound him. The sudden ache between her thighs and the thrill of it all clouded her better judgment.

Tav pulled away from the kiss with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She looked down at Gortash, his tired eyes pierced her own. Tav stepped back and circled around him, her hands running over the ropes that bound him.

"I saw your lingering look," Tav's voice echoed off the stone walls. "The longing in your eyes the day we met." Tav paused, her gaze fixed on Gortash's face. She could see the confusion and desire in his eyes as he struggled against the ropes.

His skin started to become raw from his constant tugging.

Tav then put her foot on his shoulder and pushed, forcing Gortash's back to press against the hard pillar. He winced in pain, but his eyes never left Tav's.

"I know you want me," Tav continued, her voice dripping with seduction. "But I also know that you're not the kind of man who gives in easily." She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "And that's what makes this oh-so painful for you."

Gortash's eyes widened in realization as Tav stepped back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She began to slowly unbutton her shirt, revealing more and more of her smooth skin with each button. Gortash's eyes followed every move, his heart racing with frustration.

"Fuck, show me more..." He whispered threateningly under her watch. “I want to ruin you.”

"You see, Gortash," Tav said, her voice low and sultry. "I have a proposition for you." She leaned in close once again, her lips just inches away from his. "If you can escape from these ropes," Her finger trailed along the rope that bound him. "Then I'll give myself to you willingly."

He struggled against the ropes. Tav's words were like a challenge, and he was determined to prove himself worthy. But the constant pulling only damaged his skin more.

"Well isn't this just unfair circumstances for me. I respect that." Gortash huffed out in annoyance. No way could he unbound himself but how could he be mad at her? Dirty games were his forte.

Her shirt was just barely showing her bare chest.

"You're just begging me to fuck you." Gortash scoffed with hearts practically in his eyes. “Please just — fuck. Let me loose.”

Tav had already stepped back, a playful smile on her face. "Looks like you'll have to try harder," she teased, tossing a small pocket knife at his knees, "You'll manage to get yourself out of this mess." She finally turned to walk away.

"Tav?"

Her footsteps echoed away and Gortash kept calling out Tav's name even adding in a 'Please'. Which was something he never did.

Gortash could only watch in frustration as Tav disappeared into the darkness, leaving him tied up. But a smile spread across his face and he realized that this was just the beginning of this dangerous and thrilling game.

Tav was out and about in town on her own. She wanted to shop for new clothes until she felt someone's hand wrap around her mouth. She was pulled into an ally and the Steel Watchers conveniently guarded the entrance, blocking anyone in.

She struggled against her attacker, but his grip was too powerful.

To her surprise, it was Gortash, pinning her body against the ally's brick wall.

Gortash's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in place.

"You play quite the game, my dear," Gortash said, his breath hot against her neck. "And I finally have you now."

"Took you long enough, Lord Gortash." Tav mocked his name with a chuckle. Her heart raced under his hold but the excitement of challenging him was too fun.

Before she could say anything, Gortash's lips were on hers, kissing her roughly. His grip on her was strong and commanding. As he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over Tav's body, sending shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," Gortash growled against her lips. Tav's heart skipped a beat at his possessive words. She couldn't deny how sexy she found him in that low-cut shirt. His hands gripped her tits and ass.

Suddenly, Gortash's lips left hers and he moved down to her neck, kissing and biting her skin. Tav winced at the sharp pain, but couldn't deny moaning in pleasure. Fear and excitement coursed through her veins while Gortash continued to bruise her neck with his bites.

"You like that, don't you?" Gortash asked, his voice low and seductive. Tav could only nod in response, unable to form words as Gortash's lips and teeth continued to leave their mark on her.

Tav knew the consequences fucking Gortash but she couldn't escape his touch now. Not when she replayed their last encounter over In her head. It was so hard walking away from him that day and not fuck him.

Gortash was in Tav's head and she was in his.

Gortash reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking echoing in the ally. Tav's heart pounded in her chest and she watched him pull down his pants, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and large, erect cock.

Immediately Tav's face grew hot with intimidation by Gortash's size. Her mouth practically watered from the way it twitched every time he touched her.

Gortash turned to Tav and roughly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to him. He tugged down her pants, exposing her bare skin in such a public place. Tav could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she wanted this as much as he did.

Without any warning or preparation, Gortash placed his tip on the entrance of Tav's core. He pushed himself into Tav, causing her to wince in pain. She could feel his girth stretching her, and she could barely contain a whimper.

"God, you're so tight," Gortash growled.

Gortash didn't care about Tav's discomfort. He grabbed her hips, pushed her back against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

With a firm grip, Gortash began to thrust into her with a force that made her head spin. Tav could feel the roughness of his skin against hers, and she moaned out as her arms wrapped around his neck.

Tav felt herself getting lost in his forceful pumps. Gortash's rough thrusts sent waves of pleasure through her body, and she surrendered to it.

"You're mine now, Tav. Mine to do whatever I want with." He snarled, his grip on her hips tightening.

"N-nghh, fuck - y-yes-" Tav hazily agreed, completely lost in the way he pumped in and out of her.

Fuck why was she even agreeing with him?

Gortash's movements became more and more forceful, and Tav could feel herself getting closer to the edge. Just as Tav let out a breathy yelp, his lips muffled over hers.

He snaked his tongue into her mouth and tasted every inch of her tongue in desperation. Their mouths harshly clashed with each other in a messy kiss.

Gortash groaned in pleasure, and she knew he was reaching his climax from the heat that exuded off his cock inside her.

With one final thrust, Gortash released himself inside of Tav, and she could feel the warmth of his seed filling her.

Tav collapsed onto his shoulders, breathing heavily as Gortash pulled out of her.

Tav held onto his body, exhausted and satisfied, and he slowly brought her down to her feet. His skin was dampened with their mixed sweat.

He leaned down and placed a rough kiss on Tav's forehead before whispering, "You are spared for now, but I expect you to come visit me at the palace."

Tav felt both terrified and excited for what was to come.

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

I want him so bad.

#enver gortash #gortash x oc #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #tav x gortash #gortash smut #gortash x tav #gortash x reader #lord gortash #bg3 gortash #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bloodlust 1

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ellebakers · 8 months

Text

☆ Jealous boy | Part two (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

Warnings : Mention of sex, blood, death, killing, language..

tag list : @iloveneilperry

PART ONE

"Y/n ?"

Samantha's voice grew more distant as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Ethan Landry, your best friend, the man you gave yourself to last night after finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you, hugging you, hands full of blood, the blood of Chad and Tara. He had an evil grin, and the ghostface outfit was dangling right in front of you.

Shocked, you dropped your phone to the floor. “Now it’s just you and me my love.”

You felt fear wash over you as he buried his face in your neck. "Let go of me."

Your voice was shaky, making Ethan laugh.

“What was that baby ?”

Seeing him laugh in the face of your fear awakened the anger in you, you struggled and spoke in a more ferocious voice.

"I said. Let go of me !"

You managed to get out of his arms and backed up to the sink to face him. “Shh, calm down sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

Ethan laughed again. “That’s not what you said when I fucked you last night.”

Tears of fear and anger ran down your cheeks. "Fuck you."

Ethan looked at you, amused, he closed the door behind him and locked it. Fear took over realizing that your only exit had just closed, but you decided not to show anything. “You’re the fucking killer.”

The boy rolled his eyes. "Good point Sherlock."

You shook your head. "Fuck… Why ?"

Ethan opened his mouth to answer but your phone started ringing, you simultaneously looked at the phone as the photo and Sam's came up, a sigh of relief passed your lips but Ethan was quick and grabbed your phone, a threatening tone he passed to you.

“One word and I’ll kill you.”

He picked up and put it on speakerphone.

"Y/n ?! Are you okay ?"

You looked at Ethan who was threatening you with his gaze.

"I'm fine, do they know who did this ?"

"I don’t know. No masks were put in the apartment . Kirby thinks Ghostface acted without thinking, their deaths weren't planned."

You were looking for a way to alert Sam without Ethan realizing it, suddenly something came to your mind. "I feel like I'm reliving Woodsboro, it's like Amber stabbed me again."

Sam was silent for a moment and she took a deep breath. "I understand. I have to hang up, please be careful."

Once he hung up, Ethan sighed and took the knife he had hidden in his jeans, and pointed it at your chest.

"You know, I really love you. I told my dad and my sister to leave you alone, I managed to convince them that you wouldn't be a problem, but I realize that you will be."

You frown. "Your father and your sister ? What the hell are you talking about."

“Quinn and Bailey. ” Your jaw dropped in shock. An evil smile appeared on his face.

"You didn't expect that, did you? And yes, it's my family. Ethan Landry is not my real name, and you want to know something else?"

He came closer to you and lightly pressed on the scar that Richie had given you last year, on your chest. This scar hurt more than the others because if he had planted his blade two millimeters to the left, you would have died.

"My brother is the one who left you that scar."

Your heart stopped for a moment as you relived the pain he had caused you, as your scar split open under Ethan's touch.

"Yes sweetie, it hurts, I know. You, that whore Sam and all the others are going to die for what you did to my big brother."

You met his gaze and saw nothing but disgust. "I really loved you, but I realize that my father was right, you are as responsible as the others."

Something lit up inside you. Hatred.

“You want to know what I heard ?”

He scoffed. "Tell me."

"I heard your brother was impotent."

Ethan smoked. "Shut up."

"I also know he was a piece of shit who let his girlfriend do all the killing."

"Shut your fucking mouth !"

He raised his knife to stab you but you were faster and kicked him in the stomach with your foot, he backed away coughing. You grabbed his head and slammed him against the wall, knocking him down and disoriented.

You take this opportunity to unlock the door and get out of the bathroom, he gets up and runs after you. Once out of the room you rushed into the hallway and pressed the call button for the elevator, but it was too slow and Ethan was coming quickly, you took the first door and ran down the stairs as quickly as possible.

"Where do you think you're going bitch ?"

The descent to the ground floor seemed long to you as he got dangerously closer. Once you arrived downstairs you rushed to the door leading to the hall.

You saw the empty hall, and started to cry realizing that no one could help you, that's when Ethan threw himself on you, knocking you to the ground. He turned you on your back and raised his knife. It was the end, you closed your eyes so as not to see him. That's when a shot rang out, you jumped and opened your eyes. Ethan was no longer on top of you, he was running towards the emergency exit, Kirby not far behind him.

Sam rushes towards you. "Y/n, are you okay? Show me, did he hurt you."

Your nerves began to drop when you saw your friend's reassuring face, you let out all your tears and fell into her arms. She hugged you and stroked your hair. "Shhhh, it's over, I'm here."

You don't know how long you stayed like that, but after a while Kirby came back, panting.

"I lost him."

This should have worried you but for now you were just happy that Sam understood your hidden message. You knew that by talking about getting stabbed by your ex-best friend, she would have made the connection with Ethan, your current, now ex, best friend. But the hell, when will it end....

#scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #scream #scream x reader

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ckret2 · 3 months

Text

Chapter 35 of human Bill Cipher is still prisoner of the Mystery Shack and still handcuffed to Stan in spite of their mutual irritation: we return to them under attack by the tooth fairy and her dentist lackey.

In light of this terrible peril, Bill and Stan put aside their differences, politely agree to cooperate, and work together maturely to deal with the threat—

Haha I'm kidding, no they're screaming the most offensive things they can think of at each other.

####

Packed in a dark cluttered closet, trying not to breathe too much of the same air as Bill, under the sound of the dentist mauling his way through the bedroom door, Stan growled, "Okay, genius—do you actually have a plan for when we get downstairs?"

Bill had hooked his borrowed umbrella over his elbow to let him rummage through the closet's contents. Trying to keep his voice low, he said, "We can take the fairy ring down to the guest room and make a run for the exit in the floor room." His eyes lit up with delight. "Hey! Vintage congressman top hat!" He sniffed it. "It still smells like Quentin and peanut brittle." He put on the hat.

Eugh. Stan found himself glad he couldn't see in the dark. "Why the floor room? It's a lot faster to just cut through the living room to the gift shop."

Bill hesitated. "Sure. Fine—"

"What's the matter, Bill, you got a problem with the living room?"

"What?" Bill scoffed. "Of course not. I said fine. It's fine!" He found a large baggie full of teeth, popped it open and licked one to confirm they were real, and stuck the bag under his new hat.

"But it took you a second," Stan said. "If we head for the living room, you won't slow us down by trying to go the other way, will you?"

"Of course not," Bill repeated. It was a little less convincing than the last time. "I was just—trying to figure out if that was the fastest way—"

"Oh, really," Stan pressed. "You sure you aren't scared to go in there with me?"

Bill whipped around to stare at Stan in the dark.

"You think I haven't noticed how you bolt out of the living room any time I come in?" Stan asked. "Or how you flinch every time I raise my hand?"

Bill swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about." He chuckled derisively. "I think you're fantasizing, Stan—"

"Do you really think I don't remember how you died."

Bill's voice caught in his throat. "You said..."

"Yeah, I wanted to see what kind of story you'd make up. You just can't stop talking down to me even when you know it's all lies," Stan said. "As if I'd ever forget seeing you on your knees, begging me for mercy, while I shattered your face like a cheap mirror—"

Bill shoved Stan against one wall, small hands wrapped ineffectively around his throat. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Admit it!" Stan shoved Bill against the opposite wall; Bill tripped and landed heavily on a cardboard box. "Admit that I killed you too! I played just as much a part in it as he did!"

"You did not kill me!" Bill stood on the box, even as it threatened to collapse under his weight, so he could scream in Stan's face, "You couldn't have killed me! I'M NOT CAPABLE OF BEING KILLED BY SOMEONE LIKE YOU!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME?!"

"I'M NOT AFRAID—"

An enormous drill bit pierced the wood between their faces. Bill and Stan screamed.

Just on the other side of the door, Pearl cried, "Careful! Don't hit the girl's teeth!"

Stan snarled, "You moron, look what you—!"

"You started it!" Bill pounded on the door. "Hey! Frankie! Is this worth it?!" He jumped back as the drill came through again, just in front of his sternum. It grazed Stan's bicep; he roared in pain. Bill shouted, "Was paying off your dental school loans worth this? Do you wanna be a murderer, kid?!"

"I can't stop now!" Dr. Illing was audibly sobbing. "You don't understand, I'm in too deep!" The drill pierced again, widening the hole he'd already started.

"If you think she's scary, you can't imagine what I've got—"

Stan clapped a hand on Bill's shoulder hard enough to make him jump; but he growled in Bill's ear, "Count of three."

Bill hesitated, squinting at Stan's future to see what he was planning; but nodded. "Fine." He didn't understand the purpose but he could copy the motion.

Stan put his hand on the doorknob. "One, two..." Bill squeezed his eyes shut. They slammed their shoulders against the door, Stan grunting in pain. Dr. Illing's drill caught in the wood, and they kept shoving it open, jamming the dentist between the door and the wall. Bill leaned against the wood with his full weight to keep Dr. Illing trapped, using his new umbrella to swat away the fairy buzzing in his face. Stan toppled an old fortune telling machine in front of the door to pin it in place.

Pearl barked, "You're useless, Frank!" She had drawn out a wand that looked like a metallic blue toothbrush and was aiming it at Bill's face. "I'll get those teeth myself if I have to!"

Wheezing through crushed lungs, Dr. Illing said, "But the treaty—"

"What treaty?!" From five feet away, she fired a bolt of mint white magic at Bill's horrified face.

Stan seized Bill's umbrella, opened it, and deflected the spell. It ricocheted off the umbrella and punched a flaming hole through the ceiling. From behind this temporary shield, Bill took out the teeth bag and flung a handful across the room.

Pearl gasped, abandoning Dr. Illing to dart after them. "Babies! I didn't hurt you, did I?!" Huh. More effective than Bill had expected.

"Go!" Stan ran for the door, grabbing Bill by the wrist to pull him along too. Bill snatched back his umbrella as Stan paused to shut the bedroom door behind them again. Even though Dr. Illing had shredded the wood around the latch, maybe he'd still struggle to figure out how to open it. "Living room?"

"I said fine!" Bill shut his umbrella and used it to point toward the fairy ring. "As long as you don't act immature about it!"

"I'm the one being immature?! You're the one who's scared of a room!" They stopped in the fairy ring, too close to each other for comfort; and then, with a disorienting whoosh, they were standing in an identical circle of mushrooms in the guest room. "Why does it even matter so much whether Ford or me killed you?" Stan yanked the door open. "Why is it so hard to admit that I threw the punch that took you out?!"

Bill clumsily kicked several sliced mushrooms aside, breaking the fairy ring, and nearly fell as he tried to keep up with Stan's pace. "Because you didn't kill me! You can't kill me because YOU AREN'T IMPORTANT!"

Stan spluttered in outrage, turning to stare at Bill. "Not important enough to kill you?! How does that even make sense! What, you think you're—too good for a guy like me to take down?!"

Bill's eyes widened the tiniest bit, as though he'd just realized something. A sickeningly gleeful grin stretched across his face. "It's true! I've looked into countless universes! No matter where you go or what you do, you just don't matter!" He wrenched his arm free of Stan's grip with such an effort that he nearly fell down; but he raised his gaze again to Stan's face. "If anything, you just make everything worse."

Stan's hands curled into fists. "You'd better watch your mouth—"

But when Bill planted the tip of his umbrella in the carpet and raised his cuffed hand to point at Stan, he stopped. Just a second ago Bill had been whiny and defensive; but now his inhuman gaze transfixed Stan to the spot. There was power in that mad self-assurance Stan had only ever seen before in criminal lords who commanded hundreds of gangsters. Bill bore himself like an ancient god preparing to pass judgment on a mortal, and Stan had no choice but to listen in dread to his revelation.

Bill said, "You know, I first tried to work with Stanford in a universe where you don't exist? And I couldn't get into his head! He wouldn't give me a chance!" He jabbed his finger toward Stan's chest like a knife. "Because YOU hadn't ruined his life and made him desperate enough to trust an alien! And YOU hadn't spent your whole crooked childhood training him to put up with a con artist's lies—so he'd be ready when he met me. Isn't that funny, Stanley?"

The air rushed from Stan's lungs. His voice was thin and trembling with rage. "You just— You're trying to get on my nerves." He'd never heard anything before that sounded so terribly true.

"So what if I am! It's still true!" Bill's laughter was like a shriek. "You were stillborn in that universe! Your brother had to grow up without a twin watching over him—so he actually learned how to make friends. And he was a big success at West Coast Tech. Your mother was devastated she'd lost you—but you know what's really funny?" He had the awful grin of a court jester about to deliver a punchline that would start a war. "I think your family loved that dead baby you more than they ever liked the disappointment you turned out to be—"

Stan socked Bill as hard as he could.

He expected Bill to flinch, to duck, to shield his head—something. Bill always flinched. Instead he locked up, facing Stan, wide-eyed and watching the incoming blow. The punch connected with his face with a sickening crunch. Bill toppled flat on his back. His top hat and umbrella tumbled across the floor. The chain jerked Stan down to kneel over Bill.

It was like a spell had broken. Stan stared down at Bill like an idiot. He felt like an idiot. The shock even snapped him out of his anger. He uncurled his fist, saw a smear of blood on one knuckle, tried to say something, and only managed to come up with, "Aw, jeez."

Bill was weak. He wasn't a demon anymore; he was a yappy chihuahua trying to sound bigger than he was because he was scared. Stan knew that. He was only kicking a washed-up loser of a con artist while he was down.

He'd been there before.

Bill had slapped his hand over his mouth and nose, fingers digging into the skin, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Stan swallowed hard. "Hey, I didn't mean to do that much— I mean, you had it coming, but still... uh... you okay?" He awkwardly offered Bill a hand.

Bill reached up—and placed a bloody tooth, root and all, in Stan's palm.

Stan stared. "Wh."

"Tooth fairy bait." Bill gave Stan a wild, bloody smile. "Thanks for the help. It's been loose for days."

Tooth fairy— Stan automatically glanced toward the doorway to see whether their pursuers were catching up. And only then did he realize they were in the middle of the living room, standing in front of Stan's armchair. He'd been set up.

He stared at Bill.

Bill glared up at Stan. Voice rough, he said, "Who's scared of you?" He spat a wad of bloody spit at Stan's face. The attempt was so weak it landed on Bill's own shirt. A far cry from the whiny triangle who'd tried to bribe Stan into sparing his life.

They both looked up at the sound of wood cracking. Stan said, "All right, we've got bait." He seized Bill's bloody hand and, with a grunt, tried to heave him upright. "Can we set a trap?"

Bill unsteadily climbed to his feet. "I guess?" Either he hadn't thought past getting punched in the face, or the blow had knocked his plan out of his head.

Upstairs, Pearl snapped, "Now hurry, before we lose them!" Dr. Illing's footsteps thudded across the attic floorboards.

"Move," Stan hissed, and when Bill turned to glance cluelessly behind himself at the door, Stan rolled his eyes and shoved him.

Bill tripped over the steps up to the gift shop and stumbled backwards through the swinging door, with Stan following. When Bill had steadied himself, he stared in wide-eyed bafflement at the door he'd just passed through. "How did I..."

"Focus, Cipher!" Stan snapped his fingers in Bill's face. "Gimme some nerdy magic. What traps fairies?"

Bill dragged his gaze away from the door and shook his head woozily. "Uhh... carefully-worded contracts... salt lines, iron..."

"You couldn't have mentioned salt when we could've reached the kitchen?" Stan looked around the gift shop. Iron, iron...

"Wow, that's a great idea. Remind me why we were so bent on getting to the living room?"

"Watch it. You've got a few teeth left." Stan smacked Bill's arm, making him jump, and pointed. "Got it! The old diving helmet!"

Bill squinted his eyes unevenly. "Oh yeah—the one Fordsy got ripped off on. Hey—didja know diving helmets are supposed to be copper, but he got sold a spray-painted—"

"For two minutes, please stop talking about my brother. Will it work?"

Bill slowly traced a finger through the air as if he were trying to track the path of something only he could see. "Yeah, it could work."

"'Could'?"

The gaps at the top and bottom of the "Employees Only" door glowed bright blue. "Fresh blood," Pearl said, "they went this way!"

"Give me the tooth," Bill said. "And keep Frank out, we're dead if he gets in."

"In there!" Pearl cried, and Dr. Illing's drill revved again. The door to the living room was a swinging door without a latch; curse or no, if Dr. Illing hit it, it would fly right open.

Stan yelled, "Hold it! Do not drill that door! It's... it's load bearing! Yeah, if you start hacking holes in it the whole shack could come down on us!"

The drill powered down. Dr. Illing said dubiously, "That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about doors to dispute it."

Pearl swooped under the door—carrying an armload of the teeth Bill had thrown earlier—but she turned around when she realized Dr. Illing wasn't following. "What are you stopping for, you idiot! He's lying! Doors don't work like that—"

"Hey, sparkles!" Bill held his bloody tooth up next to his head. "You want this?!"

She gasped in horror, clapping her hands over her mouth and dropping the teeth. "You knocked it out! You monster, what if you chipped it?!" She drew her wand again and, with a tiny shrill roar, she dove for it.

Bill pulled it out of her way with the grace of a matador dodging a bull. She wheeled around faster than Bill could react, flung a spell at his back, and made another dive for the tooth. Stan jerked him out of the way. Bill laughed, "Is that all you've got? I've seen better flying out of dandelion seeds!"

She whirled around to face him again with a growl of frustration, fluffy bob cut puffed up in rage, wings buzzing like the propeller of a fighter plane. The third time she dove for the tooth, she snatched it out of Bill's fingers.

And immediately rammed head-first into the back of the solid iron diving helmet. It rang out like a broken bell. She croaked, "ow."

Stan slammed the front window of the helmet shut. "Ha!"

"Yes!" Bill pointed at the helmet. "You're stupid!"

Dr. Illing—who had dropped down to the ground to peer through the three-inch gap at the bottom of the door—cried, "No!" He pounded on the door in frustration. It swung a few inches open. He stared at it in bafflement. It swung back and hit him in the forehead.

"Well, well, well. It looks like we've got a proper hostage situation, don't we?" Bill rapped on top of the helmet with his umbrella's hooked handle. "Better stay away from the sides, Pearly. What would you say touching iron feels more like—being burned, or electrified? I've always wondered, but never had an opportunity to possess a fairy—"

Stan elbowed him. "Ix-nay on the ossess-pay."

"Right, right." Bill turned to Dr. Illing. "It'd be pretty easy for me to bounce your patron off the walls of this thing. So how's about you drop the power tools and back away from the door?"

Dr. Illing gave Bill the despairing look of a man who'd been struggling to carry an impossibly heavy weight for decades, only for one swift jab in the ribs to make him drop it. But he got to his feet, and after a moment, his yellow tool bag dropped heavily beside the door.

Stan opened the door, slung the bag over his shoulder before Bill got a chance to rifle through it, and pulled out the drill Dr. Illing had been menacing them with. Holding Dr. Illing at drill point, he nodded toward the gift shop exit. "Get walking. Outside."

"But..." Dr. Illing tried to look past Bill and Stan to the diving helmet.

Bill slung an arm around Dr. Illing's back, aggressively encouraging him to hasten toward the door. "Don't worry about her! We plan to resolve this peacefully, don't we, Fisher?"

"Oh yeah," Stan said. "Nothing to worry about."

"But we're negotiating with the boss, not the lackey. So..."

Stan opened the door. Bill planted a foot on Dr. Illing's butt and shoved. "Out you go!"

Dr. Illing went sprawling across the porch. Stan slammed the door on him as he got to his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder to give them a look like a puppy who'd been kicked out in the rain.

"You're going to be in so much trouble when I get out of here," Pearl yelled. She grabbed the bars across the window in the diving helmet, then gasped and withdrew her hands as the iron burned her palms. "When the fairy queen hears about this—!"

"That you were breaking into a human dwelling to try to rip my teeth out of my mouth?" Bill asked. "Oh, I'd love to know what she'll think of that."

Stan rummaged in the nook where Wendy shoved spare napkins and plasticware whenever she brought fast food to work. He used a few napkins to wipe off the bloody scrape the drill had left on his shoulder in the closet, and held a handful out to Bill. "Here."

Bill took them. "What?"

"Your face is a mess. Thought you might wanna—you know." Stan attempted to pantomime shoving napkins in his mouth. As much as Stan thought Bill had deserved the sock, he'd feel like a heel if he didn't help clean him up after the fact.

"Oh. Right." Bill attempted to wipe off his chin, then stuffed a napkin up in the gap where his tooth used to be and pulled it out to see how much blood it picked up. It was a lot. He shrugged and turned to the tooth fairy, grinning. "So. I believe we were negotiating?"

"I'm not negotiating anything with you," Pearl huffed. "Look at what you did to this poor tooth!" She was hugging it protectively to her chest, her thin blue dress stained with blood from the root. "Maybe I haven't obeyed the spirit of my treaty, but I've obeyed the letter of it, and the fairy court will back me up on that—"

"Again, you did try to rip my teeth straight out of my mouth in the middle of the night," Bill said.

"I never! A dentist did! If he happened to feel like giving me the tooth after that, that's his business, isn't it. I could have been aiming my wand at anybody, you don't know."

"Sure, sure! You did nothing wrong. You slid neatly through those loopholes. Maybe your court will even agree with you." Bill leaned closer to the helmet, grinning through the window. "But don't you think—if I drive over to Multnomah County, walk backwards into your queen's court, and tell her what you've been doing—she won't want to close those loopholes? No more hench-dentists."

Pearl had gone very still. "'Walk b—'? How do you... What do you know about our court?"

Bill laughed wryly. "Kid, I've known your court since before it moved to America. I've spoken with the ancestors of the ancestors of your queen. The fae tell fairy tales about me, so if you know what's good for you—"

"Easy." Stan put a warning hand on Bill's shoulder. "Just because she's not human doesn't mean you can just..."

"I know, I know."

Pearl had been watching Bill skeptically as he spoke, clearly trying to weigh how much of his boasting was true—but seeing Stan try to silence him apparently persuaded her of his honesty. Her eyes widened in alarm. "Who—What's your name?"

Bill cast a sideways glance toward Stan, then shrugged ruefully. "Afraid I'm not allowed to tell. You know where we are—even people like you and me can't afford to disobey the collector's house rules. You can call me Goldie Locke. And if you don't want me to negotiate your release with your queen, then you'd better be willing to negotiate with us. Are we clear?"

Pearl nodded.

"Wonderful." (Dr. Illing had circled the gift shop to the nearest window, where he was staring forlornly in at Bill, Stan, and the helmet containing Pearl. Bill waved cheerfully at him.) "I don't know about the Fisherman, here—but I, for one, would like to make sure this doesn't become a problem again. So how about this: if you promise to leave, never harass us again, never have your agents harass us, never via any means attempt to harm us or steal our worldly goods—teeth included—either directly or indirectly, and never return to this house, then we promise not to report your little dentist scheme to your queen. Does that sound fair to you?"

Pearl pouted; but she reluctantly nodded. "Yes, yes—that's fair. I agree."

"Hold on," Stan said. "Once she's outta here, how do we know she'll keep that promise? Shouldn't we get some kind of, I don't know, insurance?"

"She's a fairy," Bill said. "She can't lie even if she wants to. They're compelled to tell the truth. They can twist it, and they can try to get you with tricky wording, but they can't lie. Once they've made a promise, it's unbreakable."

Stan considered that. "Huh." He'd have to double-check that claim with Ford later, he'd know.

"Which is why I get along so well with them," Bill said cheerily, "since I never lie either."

Stan laughed loudly, smacking Bill's back. "Sure! And I'm the queen of England."

Bill mock bowed. "Oh my, your majesty. I had no idea." Stan laughed again.

"I agreed to your terms," Pearl snapped, "so set me free!"

"Hold on." Bill propped his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, leaning close to the helmet again. "I seem to recall I only promised not to tattle to your queen. I didn't promise to let you go." He glanced at Stan. "Isn't that what you heard?"

Now what was he up to? But Stan nodded in agreement. "That's what I heard, all right."

Bill winked. "Like I said: tricky wording."

Pearl let out a swear that sounded like tinkling bells and stomped her foot. "That's ridiculous! If you've already sworn not to tell the queen about my methods, you no longer have any blackmail against me! You can negotiate with her for my release now, for all I care!"

"Your tricky wording backfired," Stan said.

Bill didn't look bothered. "All right. I'm sure you're happy to wait right here until we make the long drive into town, aren't you. You do know where we are, right?"

The fairy's face immediately darkened. "You... I don't see why not! There's nothing to fear in this house."

"Isn't there? Want us to go wake up the head of the house, ask him to babysit you until we get back?" Bill asked.

Huff. "He's gone."

"He's back," Bill said. "If you're lucky, maybe he'll stick you in the freezer for an hour, so it won't hurt when he pins your wings to a cork board." (Stan blinked at Bill in amazement. Head of the house—Soos? Soos?)

Pearl shuddered. "You're a liar."

"Am I?" Bill raised his cuffed wrist. "I've worked with the queens of your queens. I have powers you've never dreamed of. Do you think I'm chained to a doppelgänger for fun?"

Stan said, "To a wh...?" but at Bill's sharp look, he fell silent. All right. A lot of phrases that didn't make sense to him had just flown by. Clearly Bill was using some kind of fairy talk mumbo-jumbo to give her a wildly inaccurate impression of what was going on in this shack. Stan had manners, he wasn't about to interrupt a fellow professional in the middle of conning a mark.

Pearl worked her jaw angrily; but there was something nervous in her gaze now, glancing between Stan's face, the handcuffs, and the rest of the shack. "Maybe you're not as important as you think you are," she said unconvincingly.

"I've got magic teeth, girl."

"Fine!" Pearl stamped her foot. "Fine, I'll negotiate with you! What else do you want?"

Bill pointed at her chest. "I want to choose my payment for that tooth there."

She hugged the tooth protectively, but said, "Fine."

Bill looked at Stan. "You want anything?"

He considered that. "Better-fitting dentures would be nice? Can she do that? Is that something I can ask for?"

"Yeah, you can ask for that."

"Is that all?" Pearl snapped.

"Dentures for him, payment for me, unenchant our door and take out the carvings you left in it, and..." Bill glanced at Stan again, who shrugged. Bill said, "Yeah, I think that's it. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Bill gestured toward the helmet, and Stan flipped its front window open. Pearl stepped out, hovered up level with Stan's face, and gave him a murderous glare; but she drew out her toothbrush wand again and flicked it at him. "There. Happy?"

Stan adjusted his jaw thoughtfully. "Yeah. Oh, those're real nice. Hardly feels like they're there."

"They're better than you deserve," Pearl said haughtily; then turned to Bill. "And you? What payment do you want?"

Bill grinned wide, pointing at the new gap in his teeth. "Solid gold replacement! 24k."

"Pure gold's too malleable for dental work."

"I don't care, this body's a temp. Gimme the good stuff."

She gave him a sour look, but again waved her wand. The blood evaporated from Bill's teeth and gums and a new tooth materialized in the gap, the exact shape of the original but shining gold. Bill licked it experimentally. "Yeah, that'll do."

"Now get outta here," Stan said, "and take your creepy tooth temple with you."

"Hmph!" She turned her nose up at both of them; then zipped across the gift shop, ducking down to snatch up a couple of dropped teeth as she went. She dipped under the door into the living room and was gone.

"Well," Bill said. "We ended up better than we started. Free dental work, a bag of tools..."

"A bunch of property damage," Stan said. "We should've asked her to fix the kids' door."

"Ah." Bill winced. "Nooo, no, probably best we didn't push our luck. Fixing the other door's enough."

Stan shook his head, without much real rancor. "Can't admit you made a mistake, can you?"

"That would be a lie, wouldn't it? And like I said, I'd never lie." Bill smiled impishly. His new tooth gleamed in the dim light. "Let's clean up some of the teeth and mushrooms, huh?"

####

Sweeping up the gift shop was awkward with the handcuffs in the way, but they worked out a system: Stan handled the broom while Bill knelt and held the dustpan. Bill had retrieved his borrowed top hat and umbrella when they went for the broom, and now he kept his cuffed hand on the umbrella, which limited Stan's movement. He almost fussed about it, until he realized Bill's hand was shaking, and each time he stood he leaned on the umbrella like a wobbly cane. Stan tried not to notice how Bill sometimes winced when he had to turn his neck.

As they awkwardly swept up the gift shop, Bill said, "Lucky you got the dentist to stop drilling the door in time, huh."

"What?"

Bill nodded toward the living room. "The load bearing door? I didn't even realize it was that important." He laughed flatly. "We'd really be in trouble if he'd managed to knock it out, huh."

Stan stared at Bill. And then he burst out laughing.

"What?"

"You idiot, doors aren't load bearing!"

Bill stared up at Stan, face slowly going red. "Well, wh— How was I supposed to know that!" Over Stan's laughter, he demanded, "Then why did you tell him it was?!"

"Eh, if he'd so much as nudged the door, he could've gotten right through. Even with that curse you put on him," Stan said. "I had to say something to keep his drill away from it."

"Huh."

Stan could practically see the gears trying to turn in Bill's head as he attempted to understand that information. Maybe he should lay off the poor guy. It was really funny that a little curse made him too stupid to work a door; but he'd turned around and used that same curse to save their hides, Stan should probably give him a temporary pass just for that. He cleared his throat and tried to think of another topic. "Using that tooth as bait wasn't a bad idea."

"Yeah, it was pretty good."

"You could've just asked me to knock it out, though."

Bill glanced up at Stan. His face said, No I couldn't.

Stan understood.

During Stan's decade of travel—thrust into the world far too young, scared, alone, and homeless, with nothing but his wits and a mask of machismo—he had seen, again and again, the truth in one of his father's most frequent lessons: if you weren't tough, then you were nothing. Didn't matter what kind of money, possessions, or friends you had. If you weren't tough enough, you could lose them all in an instant.

And so often, toughness wasn't measured by how many punches it took to knock you down, but by whether the first one made you flinch.

The best thing you could do for yourself was win a fight. But if you didn't stand a chance (and Bill—short, noodle-armed, tiny-fisted, barely able to control his body, facing a man who'd been boxing for fifty years—didn't stand a chance), then the next best thing you could do was show that you could take it like a man. It might win you respect. If it didn't, then at the least it might let you keep some dignity. Bill was desperate for dignity.

Stan had the feeling that Bill had played this game before.

Who had Bill been before Weirdmageddon? Who had he been, that he could call Stan nothing but a con artist and a complete failure who'd have been better off never born—and in between suggest that Ford only trusted Bill because he reminded him of Stan?

####

They cleaned up as best they could, then dragged themselves back to bed.

Bill gave Stan a hopeful look. "Do I get to sleep in the guest room now?"

"No." Ford would murder Stan if he found out he'd let Bill sleep on his bed, and in his final moments Stan would probably think the murder was justified. And that was assuming Bill didn't murder Stan in his sleep.

"Aww, c'mon!" Bill said. "And here I thought we'd bonded a little!"

"Are you kidding? After you said I'm the reason you fooled my brother and my family would be happier if I was dead?!"

Bill laughed lightly. "You're too sensitive!"

As they repositioned their cushions and mattress on either side of the ajar door, Stan paused. "Was that stuff true? Or did you just say it to get a rise out of me."

"What, everything about Stanford being an only child? Naaah—I just thought it would be funny to make you mad."

In his heart, Stan knew Bill had been telling the truth.

Maybe not about there being a dimension where Stanford grew up alone, maybe Bill had made that up; but if so, he'd only made up a fiction that echoed the truth. Mr. Hotshot All-Seeing Eye was right: Stan had only made things worse for the people around him. The best thing he'd ever done with his life was put it on the line to destroy Bill. And apparently, even that hadn't been good enough.

Not for the first time over the past month, Stan wondered: if he'd never recovered his memories, would Bill have died with them? Was that the lifeline that had let Bill claw his way back? Would it have been better if neither of them had ever recovered? If they'd gone down into oblivion chained together?

Probably, on some cosmic level. Bill would be gone. Stan could've used his last few years learning to be a guy that brought more to the table than lying and punching. Everyone would be having a much better summer this year. But, on the other hand, Stan liked having his memories; and to be honest, Bill had been pretty worthless so far. Maybe it was okay that Stan had only done a C+ job at demon-killing. C+ was a passing grade; and he'd never been a straight A's kind of guy.

They'd just have to grudgingly tolerate being chained together.

Stan said, "So was it 'funny' getting your teeth knocked in, too?"

Bill considered that; then let out an involuntary giggle. "Yeah, actually." He settled down on his cushion bed. "But—no, really, I never saw a universe where you two weren't inseparable as kids. I'm sure it happened somewhere, the multiverse is infinite—but I didn't dig that hard. Wasn't one of my priorities. I only needed one Stanford to get my portal running, and the one here did just fine."

Stan still didn't think Bill was telling the whole truth; but then, Stan didn't think Bill had been telling the whole truth earlier, either. Bill wasn't actually telling Stan anything about what the multiverse was like—he was just telling Stan how he wanted Stan to feel.

And Bill could have said that everything he'd said earlier was true. But he didn't.

"You really are a pretty good liar, Cipher," Stan said. "It's too bad you're a lousy dirtbag bent on world domination, or you could've made a decent partner-in-crime."

"Yeah?" Bill settled down, holding his broken umbrella to his side and laying his free arm over his collapsed top hat, as if he was worried someone would steal them in his sleep. (Stan would have to get that umbrella in the morning. It had been fine for Bill to keep it while they were fighting for their lives, but he couldn't keep a blunt weapon covered in metal poky bits indefinitely.) "Well, my schedule's clear and I'm bored. Let me know if anything comes up."

"Don't count on it." Stan slid their chain under the door and pushed it shut.

Bill had wiggled out of explaining why he wouldn't admit that Stan had killed him; but Stan didn't think he needed to ask again. He kinda had an idea. He was at that age where he was starting to worry what his obituary would say, too. "Killed by his dimension-hopping long-time nemesis with 12 PhDs" probably sounded a lot better than "Killed by a crooked grifter in his underwear." The first one might let you keep some dignity.

####

Dipper and Mabel came home shortly after dawn. The light was already on in the kitchen; Mabel curiously ducked in to see why. "Grunkle Stan! Bill! What are you doing up so early?" She paused. "Is that my top hat?"

"Mine now."

Stan and Bill were sitting at the kitchen table, with two plates of eggs and bacon (Bill's eggs had chocolate sauce), and mugs of, respectively, coffee and Mabel juice spiked with ground-up caffeine pills. Stan had a bandage on one arm. They looked exhausted. Their wrists were still handcuffed.

"Oh, you know—" Stan yawned, "—just... full of vim and vigor today."

Dipper surveyed them, tried not to laugh when he saw the cuffs, and asked, "Did you guys even get any sleep?"

Stan grunted and looked at Bill to field that one.

Bill said, "By the looks of it, more than you two did." Dipper's and Mabel's hair were tangled messes, and their clothes were stained with dirt and grass. Dipper looked like he'd fallen on his side into a mud puddle. "How'd the monster hunt go?"

"Partial success!" Mabel said. "The thing that was stealing Pacifica's alpacas came back and we froze its leg! We followed it back to its forest lair and rescued the alpacas! Including Giorgio!"

"The anomaly got away, though," Dipper said, more to himself than anyone else. "But how? It was ten feet tall, it couldn't have hidden. Unless it was... abducted, maybe? In some invisible space ship...?"

Bill rolled his open eye. "Hey—how many of the alpacas were shorn by the time you got to them?"

Mabel gave him a surprised look. "Everyone but Giorgio. How'd you know?"

"We don't need to know," Dipper said quickly. "We can figure it out on our own. C'mon, Mabel." He headed upstairs. Mabel shrugged apologetically, and followed after him.

Stan watched them go, then asked Bill, "So what did take the rich kid's exotic sheep?"

"Freak in the woods who really likes wool suits."

"Huh." Stan sipped his coffee. "It's not dangerous to the kids, is it?"

"Not as long as they don't try to film him." Bill picked up a strip of bacon, tiredly tried to stick it in his eye, sighed, and redirected it to the correct hole.

From upstairs, Mabel shouted, "What happened to our door?"

Stan winced. "Don't worry about it, sweetie! I'll fix it later."

Bill said, "We didn't clean upstairs, did we."

Stan tried to remember what all had been left behind. Bedsheet hanging out the window, teeth on the floor... "It's—it's fine. Those kids love mysteries."

"Ha. Yeah, the boy would probably just get mad if we told him what happened before he figured it out himself."

There was the faint sound of the vending machine opening. A moment later, Ford walked in with an empty mug of coffee. "You're up early," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

Bill gave Ford a sleepy smirk. "Aw, I didn't know you cared."

Ford shot Bill a glower, did a double take at the top hat, then shook his head and looked away. "I wasn't asking you. I hope you got a crick in your neck that lasts the rest of your life." (Bill laughed.)

Stan shrugged off the question. "Oh yeah, no problem. Got comfortable and didn't move all night."

"We barely even noticed the cuffs," Bill said, stifling a yawn. "Slept like babies."

Ford raised a skeptical brow. Still, he nodded and went to get coffee for himself. Stan had a broken umbrella hanging from the back of his chair; Ford assumed it was yet another confiscated weapon and picked it up to move somewhere Bill couldn't access it. "Well, I'm relieved that at least nothing weird happened last night."

"Yeah, nothing weird at all," Stan said.

"Most normal night of my life," Bill said.

There was a knock on the door. At this hour of the morning? Ford said, "I'll get that."

He answered the door.

On the porch was a haggard, slumped, very sad looking man in a white lab coat. Nearly on the verge of tears, he asked, "Can I please have my ability to open doors back? I—I had to sleep outside last night. So many bugs."

Ford stared at him. "Only the person who cast the spell can lift it. Just a moment."

He ducked into the kitchen, glared at Bill, and said, "'Slept like babies,' did you?"

Neither Bill's nor Stan's innocent smile was convincing.

Ford focused on Bill's mouth. "And where'd you get that tooth?"

"Ah." Bill looked at Stan.

Stan cleared his throat. "So the good news is, we've got a great story for your journal."

####

(And that concludes the tooth fairy arc! If you enjoyed it, I'd love hearing from y'all! I'm really proud of how this whole plot came out. Next week we start on the absolute stupidest plot arc you've ever seen.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle stan #(character tags for the fic itself; obviously they're not in the art lol)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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to-thelakes · 3 months

Text

escape artist

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

summary; your orange cat was a menace but at least your gorgeous neighbour - Frank - got to help you out.

warnings; fluff, reader has an orange cat, slight au

notes; okay so this is day 5 of my fluffbruary fics! I'm currently working on day 6 so that should be out later tonight! this fic was so sweet and it makes me wanna write a friends to lovers frank castle suburbia au fic. like especially with this reader?? i feel like it'd be so cute so please let me know if any of you would like more of these two! but enjoy <3

ao3

The neighbourhood was quiet when you woke up. The sun was filtering through your sheer curtains as you blinked awake. The familiar warmth of your cat sitting at your feet on the bed was gone and there were none of the usual yowls for food that woke you. You turned over, rubbing your face with your hand but when you looked across the dimly lit room, there was no evidence of your menace of an orange kitty.

It was just you. No cat. Your eyebrows furrowed and you shoved your sheets back, checking under the bed. There was nothing and then you realised. Your window. You had left it open. The screen had been loose and when you pulled the curtains back, you saw it. Sugarpuff had pulled the screen back and escaped.

“That goddamn escape artist,” You cursed under your breath as you stepped back from the window. It wasn’t the first time she had done this. You were told that orange cats were trouble but Sugarpuff was worse than any you had come across. You loved her despite it all but she was an absolute menace. You grabbed your crocs on the way to the front door, snatching the treats up from the side table. This was a routine now.

That was the one good thing about living in suburbia, early mornings didn’t mean hellish traffic. When you had lived in the city, there would be cars rushing by and Sugarpuff would - to put it bluntly - be dead by now. But in suburbia, she usually came running to the sound of you shaking the bag of treats.

“Sugarpuff!” You called from your front porch. The early morning sun had you wincing, your eyes hadn’t expected the sudden change in light but making sure Sugarpuff got back to you safe was worth any pain. You shook the bag of treats and waited. But there was no sound of familiar pawsteps. No Sugarpuff. You frowned, “Sugarpuff! Where are you?” You called again, stepping down off the porch and looking around. You shook the bag of treats again, “I have treats for you, baby. Just come here.” If it was any other time of day, you would have rather died than call out like that but it was early. Everyone was likely still asleep, having a lazy Sunday in.

Then you heard it. A whiny meow and you recognised it instantly.

“Where are you, baby? Sugarpuff, come on. I’ll give you a treat,” You called as you walked across the pathway of your front lawn. Then you spotted her. Your insane orange cat was perched on top of one of the trees. Her paws were pressed forward and it seemed like she kept trying to climb down but she was too scared. You stared at Sugarpuff, completely baffled by her.

“What are you doing up there, huh?” You said as you walked up to the bottom of the tree. Sugarpuff meowed out pitifully towards you again and you sighed. You ran your fingers through your hair before glancing around, “Stay right there, baby. I’ll get you down.” Sugarpuff meowed again and you pocketed the bag of treats before heading back towards the house. You had stepladders under the stairs which would hopefully reach you to her and she could come safely into your arms.

“You okay, ma’am?” The gruff voice of Frank Castle made you jump. He had moved in a few houses down and although you’d welcomed him with some cookies, that was the extent of your interactions. He seemed sweet enough and he had been helping Mrs Klein, an elderly woman in the neighbourhood, with tasks around the house. She had lost her husband last year and he seemed more than happy to give her support. It was sweet but you didn’t know much about him other than the small snippets from Mrs Klein.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to be up at this time on a Sunday morning and you whirled back around, he was dressed in running gear. His hair was sticking to his forehead, sweating dripping down the side of his face. He looked exhausted yet there was a soft look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, just my cat. The orange menace got stuck in the tree,” You gestured vaguely towards the oak tree. Frank chuckled and glanced over, spotting the orange furball.

“Do ya need help?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I’m just gonna grab the stepladders and then I should be able to reach her. She’s a fucking idiot,” You explained as you stepped backwards, an amused smile spreading across your face. He nodded and you headed into the house.

When you came back with stepladders in hand, you hadn’t expected Frank to still be outside but that’s where he was. Instead, you found him standing at the bottom of the tree and he was talking to Sugarpuff in a soft, sweet tone; you honestly hadn’t even thought he was capable of it.

“Ya pretty lady is gonna get you down but ya gotta stop running out on her,” He said. Sugarpuff meowed back in response, clearly unimpressed by Frank’s assertion. You cleared your throat and Frank’s head snapped back, “Thought I’d keep her company while ya got the ladder,” He explained. You smiled and gently placed the stepladder down.

“She’ll appreciate it more than me,” You said as you adjusted the ladder so that it was firmly pressed into the dirt. The last thing you needed was to fall over in your pyjamas and crocs. You stepped up onto it and stood up on your tiptoes, just about able to reach Sugarpuff. But she didn’t seem like she wanted to be picked up and shied away, stepping backwards away from the edge, “Are you shitting me, Sugarpuff? Come here.” Frank chuckled below you, one hand resting on the ladder and keeping it steady as you stood on your tiptoes, desperately trying to reach out for her.

“Want me to try?” He asked curiously when he noticed that your attempts were futile. You sighed and tried to lure Sugarpuff forward but she didn’t seem to respond to any of it. You let out a huff of annoyance before getting down from the stepladder.

“Be my guest. She’s a fucking menace,” You said, exasperated. Frank chuckled and you switched places. Within seconds, Sugarpuff had let him pick her up and he stepped down from the stepladder. She settled against his chest and you watched in utter disbelief, “Fucking traitor,” You whispered towards the orange menace. Frank was grinning as he stroked Sugarpuff.

“D’you want her?” He asked, meeting your gaze. You sighed and rubbed your face.

“Could you take her inside while I bring the stepladder in? Don’t want her trying another fucking escape act,” You requested. Frank nodded and he gestured for you to go first. You carried the stepladders in and put them under the stairs again while Frank continued to stroke Sugarpuff, “Can you keep a hold of her a sec?” You asked. Frank let out a noise of agreement while you headed to your bedroom and closed the window. That menace was not going to escape again.

When you returned to the hallway, your screen door had been pushed to and Frank was sitting on the floor, stroking Sugarpuff as she rolled over. It was clear that she was loving the new attention and you were honestly in disbelief. Sugarpuff usually hated anyone that wasn’t you and she hated men the most. She constantly hissed at the mailman and any delivery drivers who dared to get too close to the windows. But it was different with Frank, it seemed

“Thank you for rescuing her. She’s a menace,” You said as you leant against the side table by the front door. You put the treats back on the side and he shrugged.

“S’all good.” The tension that had been in your shoulders since you woke up seemed to release as you took in the sight of Frank. He was so calm, stroking Sugarpuff like she hadn’t just nearly given you a heart attack at half 5 in the morning.

“Can I offer you breakfast?” You asked curiously. Sugarpuff seemed to recognise that word and she rolled away from Frank and got up on her paws again, “She definitely wants it. So, you wanna join us?” Frank looked at Sugarpuff and then at you, his face stoic. From that look alone, you had a guess what his answer would be.

“I would love to but I gotta finish my run and get back to Amy,” Frank explained as he clambered back up to his feet. You nodded your head, trying to brush off the sting of rejection. You knew that it wasn’t serious, it didn’t mean anything.

“Of course, thank you again. If she ever runs away again, I know who to call,” You said, forcing a smile onto your face, “I’m gonna go and give her some food so you can escape. Thank you, really. It means a lot.” Frank didn’t know what to say so he simply nodded and sent you a warm smile. That smile soothed the rejection a little as you headed into the kitchen.

Sugarpuff followed you in and when you put the wet food in a bowl, she happily began to munch down on it; while you washed your hands. It was a couple more moments of sorting out her supply of dry food and refilling her water fountain before you heard the front door close.

You found yourself frowning as you returned back to the fridge to pick up your breakfast supplies. You knew it was ridiculous to be upset at something so simple but Frank was endearing and Sugarpuff was usually avoidant of men. If even Sugarpuff liked him then she knew that he was a good one which made you want to know him.

It wasn’t until after breakfast that you wandered back into the hallway and on the side table there was a note. You had abandoned some scraps of paper that you used to make a quick shopping list. But among the blank scraps, one of the pieces of paper had a note scribbled across it. The handwriting was scraggly but you were pretty sure it said ‘Can’t call me if you don’t have my number’ followed by a string of numbers. Your jaw dropped slightly before you glanced at Sugarpuff.

“Thanks, buddy,” You mumbled before picking up the note and heading back into your room to put it into your phone.

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