#and like maybe it's fine cause it ends on a positive note with being hopeful and grateful and everything but it's still a little venty

[winniebell]

how dumb do I be with my tik tok posting?

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[harmoonix]

Tips to heal your Saturn/Chiron placement!!

Since Saturn and Chiron both can trigger a natives life with anxiety and a sense of security, here are some things to help you with getting better!🦋

How to heal:

Cause: overthinking - treatment: writing

Writing something when you're overthinking can help a lot! It can simply be a note from your phone or just write in a notebook how was/is your day so far when you feel overthinking

Cause: Anxiety - treatment: Mediation

When you feel like you're anxious, you can try to close your eyes and think at positive things, if you have your phone by your side try to listen to healing music because it usually works, also staying in the sun can help a lot when you're anxious

Cause: Tired - treatment: sleeping

Is really obvious for your body to feel like sleeping when you're tired, but sleeping actually helps your body so much! Especially when you're feeling sad, take a nap because when you'll wake up, you won't feel the same pain

Cause: Sadness - treatment: exercise

When you're feeling sad or low in life because we all have dark days, try to do some things that can keep your mind away from the sad feeling, play a game, play a sport, organize your room, cleaning can help too but remember that when you hold too much sadness inside of you it will burst out sometimes like you just can't hold it anymore and that's perfectly fine because for some people, crying is healing

Cause: Stress - treatment: go for a walk

Going for a walk can help when you're stressed, especially in the morning when the air is so refreshing because it can help to clean your mind, try to leave the house or go in a park/lay on the grass/look at the sky it can help!

Cause: Angry - treatment; listen to music

Maybe at the moment you won't feel like listening to music, especially after a fight or some kind of conflict, but listening to music it can help with chilling yourself after those, and always remember that the specific fight or conflict already ended so you don't have to overthink about it, is away now

Cause: Lazyness - treatment: reduce screen time

The light from our phones/pc/laptop/iPad is not healthy if you constantly spend your time on these. It is good to take a break and clear your mind after a while. Your phones light has also impacted your mood

Cause: Burnout - Treatment: Reading

Reading can help in situations of burnout. If you don't have a book by yourself when you are in such a situation, there are so many online books out there, or even audio ones try to read articles or to just text with people/friends when you feel like it.

Saturn + Chiron and the themes you need to heal/get better in your life!

Saturn/Chiron in the 1H - yourself, your body, your image

Saturn/Chiron in the 2H - your worth, finances

Saturn/Chiron in the 3H - your communication, talk more about your feelings

Saturn/Chiron in the 4H - your family, relatives, your own home

Saturn/Chiron in the 5H - your inner child, do things that make you happy

Saturn/Chiron in the 6H - your mental health, nurturing, organization

Saturn/Chiron in the 7H - your partner, your relationship or marriage, your worth to a relationship/boundaries

Saturn/Chiron in the 8H - your traumas, your past, your insecurities

Saturn/Chiron in the 9H - your faith, your beliefs, your culture, your homeland, your education

Saturn/Chiron in the 10H - your carrer, your public image, your job

Saturn/Chiron in the 11H - your friendships, your community, your dreams

Saturn/Chiron in the 12H - your subconscious, your sleep, your spiritual self,

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Remember that is perfectly fine to feel sad or angry or moody because these are our emotions and feelings at the specific moment, there is nothing with them but it can do damage on yourself when you're in these energies for too long! Remember that loving yourself matters. You matter, you are loved. Being nice with others matters as much as being nice with yourself as well! Hope this helped you guys 🦋

Harmoonix🦋🦋🦋

[tswwwit]

Here's the Finale of Cult AU! Part Five was here and that's got links to all the others.

Hope you all enjoy!

Good worshipers devote their whole heart to god.

The typical way to display devotion is through acts of service. Whether it’s speaking the words granted to them in dreams, following the commands of his interpreted mysteries, or keeping his altars clean - everyone has a role in the Great Plan. 

Dipper’s thing has always been the art of study. And he was good at it. 

Nobody really objected, at first. Following the knowledge of Cipher would surely bring him to the true path of righteousness

That… didn’t pan out as expected. For a list of reasons that starts with Bill’s sheer unrighteousness and only gets longer from there. 

And somehow, eventually, impossibly - it ended up with him here.

A quick glance up shows Bill in the same position. Lounging in his armchair, staring off into the distance with a zoned-out expression on his face.

There’s an argument to be made that he doesn’t have to study Bill anymore. Nobody’s here to care, except for Bill, who doesn’t mind… pretty much anything Dipper does. At worst he’d be miffed about the lack of attention. 

But old habits die hard, and Dipper’s always been curious. 

Bill Cipher’s right here in front of him. In the strange, oddly human flesh. How could he not be interested?

At the moment, there’s not much to glean from his actions. No mysterious words, or weird signs to interpret. Just Bill lounging around, head propped in a hand with his eye unfocused. 

At first glance, everything seems normal; just some human-ish guy having a lazy weekend. A second glance would show that the hand under his chin isn’t his own. The tattered remains of a sleeve and ragged, severed flesh dangle against the upholstery. Occasionally Bill clacks the jutting arm bones together like the world’s worst pair of tongs. 

He has no idea where Bill got the limb. Could be a prize, maybe Bill made a ‘lend me a hand’ pun that went too far. Mostly, he wishes he’d throw the damn thing away. 

Bill wants to magpie a bunch of souvenirs from around the multiverse? Fine. But he should stick with things that aren’t biodegradable. 

Dipper makes a face, then another note in his journal. 

Dismemberment, not for ritual purposes. Just because Bill’s super weird. Probably thinks it’s ‘funny’.

If the cult scriptures were right about even one thing then… it wouldn’t be great. The ‘god’ they depicted wasn’t the best. But at least he wouldn’t have to make up a Bill-Cipherpedia from scratch. 

Dipper flips to a half-completed page in his book - glances up at Bill, who’s still distracted, eye unfocused - and starts adding to his notes. 

Besides, this is what he’s supposed to be doing. Probably. 

Bill’s had mortals before, and all of them had a role to play. Dipper’s the latest in a long line of mortals. Evidence abounds that this has been going on for a long time, even if Bill himself isn’t cooperative.

Dipper even has the mark to prove it. 

Whatever compels Bill Cipher to keep a human hanging around - it almost always has that in common. Even with the scant resources at hand, Dipper’s sure of that. 

Someday, he’ll get to the bottom of that mystery. Why Bill keeps snagging up a series of impressive men, other than the fact that they’re all strong and smart and interesting and cool. 

Weirdest of all is that they sure as hell weren’t devoted to any cause. Or at least any that make sense. 

From the scraps Dipper’s put together - Each of them seemed tasked with fending off the machinations of this demon. Thwarting him, in short, and….. Being kind of successful at it. The results seem mixed. Still pretty impressive, in that anyone won even once.

How the mark ended up on Dipper of all people is anyone’s guess. 

Kind of a cosmic gaffe, honestly. Sticking some constellation on nerdy loser who doesn’t fit in anywhere. Not in his old cult, not in the world in general. Definitely not in a madman’s nightmare dimension. 

Maybe removing the piece of flesh that bore said mark was -  he stops thinking about it. 

Anyway, it’s back now, and he…. Probably has a job to do? Even if he can’t do any of the other stuff, he can sure as hell take notes.

The others had the right idea there. Keeping a log of their adventures, interesting historical facts. Details on spells, written down in code that’s not too tough to crack. A ton of practical, sensible, logically organized advice. For someone who’s bound to be a demonic companion, he’s sure they’ll be invaluable. 

But when it comes to dealing with Bill Cipher himself, Dipper’s journal is going to be way more helpful. The best, even. 

He’s already filled fifty pages and it barely scratches the surface.

For one, Bill Cipher is not a god. Just a really super powerful demon who can pass for one on a good day. His ‘guidance’ should be taken with a heaping helping of salt, and his ‘path’ veers so far away from righteousness that it almost seems like Dipper was on the right track. 

Bill enjoys chaos. Violence, murder, and arson. Tricks and schemes. He starts bizarre and unpredictable bullshit all the freaking time. He loves things that by all stretch of sanity and reason shouldn’t be, and does it with aplomb. A total goddamn menace.

So really, observing him is the right thing to do. Since he’s got eyes everywhere, someone should keep an eye on him. 

And for lack of anyone else, that task falls to Dipper.

He checks back on his subject - still calm and quiet. A rarer sight than one might think. 

Bill stares off into nothing, face nearly blank. His eye remains unfocused as it flicks around in short, rapid motions. If Dipper had to guess, he’s concentrating on one of his many external eyes. Pretty deeply, too; maybe going through several at a time. 

The expression, though, is odd. Because he’s not smiling. Not that Bill’s upset or anything, he’d be more active if he was, it’s just. 

Without that eternal grin, or his constant chatter, or that fast-paced energy, it makes him look. Kinda different. 

There’s no mask being worn here. No lies. It’s just… Bill.

“You’ve been quiet,” Bill says, out of the blue. 

Damn it. Dipper thought he wasn’t paying attention. Now Bill’s turned, waving at him with that detached arm instead of his own hand. 

Dipper pretends to ignore him, ducking his head down and focusing on his journal. 

“Hey!” Bill again, more insistent, and slightly amused. “What’s so interesting, sapling?”

“Nothing,” Dipper lies. He traces another line on the paper, and frowns.

So much for capturing the moment. Bill totally ruined it by moving. 

Dipper glares at the half-finished sketch. He just can’t quite get the angles of Bill’s face right, or the shading of firelight on his skin. Yet another way that jerk is difficult to pin down. 

Bill lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that lie was terrible! We gotta get you back up to speed on deception before you try anything subtle. Should only take a few years.” He scrunches his face up in mock thought, tapping the severed arm’s finger on his chin. “So! I think you’re up to something!”

“And you’re not?” Dipper’s not an idiot. He knows this guy by now.

“No idea what you’re on about!” A flash of smile, and a wink. 

That’s a lie. Dipper can tell in the way Bill’s smile goes just so, and how he manages to pose even more louchely in the chair. 

He makes another note, ignoring Bill’s pointed stare. 

It’s not like Bill doesn’t know what he’s researching. Though he hasn’t directly commented on it, every once in a while he tries to offer up ‘interesting facts’, or go on some random story. Most of which are pure lies. 

Dipper doesn’t bother responding. Another thing to note for future humans - don’t encourage him. He’ll only take it further than you’d like.

Something shifts in his peripheral vision - Bill, sitting up straight. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk, and his eye glows a faint and eerie blue for a moment, before returning to gold. Looking smug. Too smug.

As Bill finally drops the severed arm, rubbing his hands together in sinister delight - Dipper stares suspiciously over his journal.

And there’s the other reason he’s recording all of this.

Bill really is up to something. 

The way he’s giggled to himself around the penthouse the last couple of days. Taking time to spy on something, or someone. That doesn’t take a mind-reader to figure out, just a pair of eyes.

“Speaking of things,” Bill says, a segue that has Dipper doing a double-take.. He leans over to grin at him, chin thankfully propped on his own fist. “Ever think about expanding your wardrobe?”

“Uh,” Dipper hesitates. “Like, literally? I don’t think I need the space-”

“I’m not talking storage. I’m talking fashion!” Bill springs up from the chair, arms wide “More than just jeans and flannel and the other grubby stuff you scrounged up. Something with style.”

“Uh,” Dipper repeats. He shuts his journal, plucking at his t-shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

The derisive Bill look gives him speaks volumes. Dipper slouches in his seat. 

Yeah, okay, it’s not the most fashion-forward, but it’s not, like, weird. He could wear this basically anywhere and it’d be fine.

“One of the suits in said wardrobe should be good to start with. I know there’s a few tucked in the back,” Bill continues. He gives Dipper a long once-over as he stalks closer. “You can’t tell me you’ve never tried one of those on.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Dipper admits. Under Bill’s intent gaze, he shuffles back on the couch. “They’re not really my thing?”

“Yeah, figures.” Bill sighs, with a dramatic eye-roll. “Try one on this evening, then! We can get it adjusted if you’re a little…” He hovers a hand near Dipper’s head, palm flat, raising and lowering it. “That craphole you called a cult kinda stunted your growth.”

Warmth flushes Dipper’s face. He’s not short. Bill’s just stupid tall. “I don’t even know how to tie a tie.”

Bill’s eye and mouth both go wide, and Dipper knows he’s made a huge mistake.

“Oh, that I can do something about.” Bill claps once, and starts rubbing his hands together. The grin makes its triumphant return. “Right now.”

Which is how Dipper ends up standing in the middle of the living room, stuck in a stuffy dress shirt and jacket, as he tries, desperately, not to sweat.

“And finally,” Bill’s voice is low, above and just to the right of Dipper’s ear. Arms over his shoulders, and long fingers brushing his throat. “Nice and tight around your neck.”

Dipper stares forward. The words enter his ear and instantly evaporate into pink mist in his mind. “Okay.”

“Like this.” One swift tug cinches the tie around Dipper’s neck; not tight, not loose. A silken, obvious weight. “Got it?”

“Yeah.” Dipper’s voice is half an octave too high. Clearing his throat, he says. “Yeah, I got it.”

With another laugh, Bill pats him on the chest. In the mirror, Dipper can see the dangerous curve of his smile. He’s tall enough to peek over the top of his head, holding him by the shoulders with long elegant fingers. A picture of perfection, looming behind a scrawny nerd with a beet-red face. 

Though the suit does fit, despite Bill whining about needing adjustments. He’s just too picky. The real problem is the person inside looks deeply, hideously uncomfortable. 

God, Dipper wishes Bill wouldn’t be so close.  It’s too warm. Too - 

Dipper wipes at his forehead, then around his neck. 

Sometimes he wishes he knew less about Bill. Ignorance would be bliss. 

Bill’s eye narrows. He looks Dipper over thoughtfully, smirk slowly morphing into a frown. “The look’s decent enough but…” He waggles a hand, a so-so gesture. “Kinda missing something. Probably needs accessories.”

“Great,” Dipper says, still staring in the mirror. “You do that.”

He watches Bill depart, feels the touch leave his shoulders, and the coolness it leaves behind. He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it.

Brushing off the suit doesn’t help. Neither does adjusting it. Taking it off in the middle of the living room is out of the question, not least because he doesn’t have anything to change back into. Bill vanished his other clothes the instant they came off. 

No matter what he does, Bill’s touch lingers.

Which is stupid, it’s not like - He breathes in, then out through his nose. 

All this learning, and for what? It’s only gotten him into trouble. He delved too deep, asked questions he shouldn’t. He spent too much time learning about Bill, a dangerous endeavor in its own right. 

Now there are facts hovering in the forefront of his brain, and he never could stop thinking. Even when it was a bad idea. 

Dipper rubs at his face, and undoes the tie. It’s uncomfortable and he should - yeah. Preoccupy himself with trying to redo it. He caught at least seventy percent of the instructions.

The silk slides under his fingers. The knot refuses to tie at first - and when it does, it’s lumpy and weird and awkward. 

Bill would know how to do this better. He knows everything. Dipper wishes Bill didn’t know that much, or at least about… things that aren’t sinful. 

Maybe it’d be better if those things were sinful, because then Dipper could keep everything bottled up tight, knowing there’d be terrible repercussions. Pushing it back so deep that even the most thorough mind-probe would never find his crimes.

Dipper glares, and the man in the mirror glares right back at him. A short, scarred, semi-wreck of a person. Barely kept together by stitches and willpower, and god he looks so… small. He’d never qualify. 

Anyway, it’s stupid. Dipper’s just some random former-cultist who Bill’s reforming into a barely presentable companion. Interesting guys are taller, and cooler; they go on adventures and fight monsters. Guys who don’t panic when their god looks at them too sharply, or hide under any beds. 

He sticks his tongue out, looking at the small pink mark. One that wouldn’t be there anymore if Bill hadn’t intervened. One arguably shouldn’t be there at all. 

Plus, Bill’s Bill. There’s probably a million billion reasons that getting involved with him is a bad idea, so really, it’s for the best. 

Clearing his throat, Dipper tries retying the tie again. It’s almost a distraction.

By the time Bill returns, Dipper’s found his resolve, and he’s not thinking of anything weird. If only because the damn tie won’t turn out right. One of his fingers is stuck in the knot. 

“Ha! Wow, that’s almost impressive!” Bill says. With one quick yank, he frees the the unfortunate digit. “Where’d your little mortal mind wander this time?”

“Where’d you go?” Dipper snaps. He shakes his arm to get some feeling back in his index finger.

A question for a question. Sadly, Bill doesn’t take the bait this time.

“Just picking up a few things! You musta really drifted off to screw up like that, though.” Bill says, sounding amused. He reaches up to ruffle Dipper’s hair. “Every time I think you can’t get cuter, here you are tying yourself up for me.”

“Sh- damn it.” Dipper shuts his eyes. He scoots away from the hand in his hair, and tries to straighten it out. 

He has to keep a better eye on himself. Having a tongue again has made him too careless. If anyone knows better than to say whatever comes to mind, it’s him. The consequences loom too large.

Or… well, he could say anything. Maybe. Sort of. Here, at least. 

But it’s one thing to want Bill to shut up, and another to order it. Spending the massive leeway he has on a minor annoyance is just dumb. 

“Hold still,” Bill says. Tone light, but serious enough that Dipper goes still. 

Bill examines him for a long moment, circling around with his eye narrowed. Then he snaps his fingers. An idea has struck him. “Alright! How ‘bout this?”

Something cold and heavy drops around Dipper’s shoulders; another thump hands directly on his head. He staggers under the sudden weight, twisting the heavy circle off his head and flinging it away. “What the fuck.”

“What?” Bill says, with calculated innocence, as a triangular crown-thing rolls across the carpet. “Too much?”

“It’s heavy.” Dipper says, lifting the other weight - what is this, a doily for his shoulders? All interwoven gold, laced with intricate designs. It’s bright and gaudy and - He chucks the thing with a frown. “Okay, even I know this clashes with the suit.”

Bill blows a raspberry, looking annoyed. But he’s not arguing, which always means Dipper’s right. He even vanishes the jewelry with a snap. “More understated, then.”

Whatever’s happening, there’s no way it’s gonna deescalate. As Bill paces, Dipper turns slowly to keep an eye on him, watching for sudden movements. 

This isn’t just some game of dressup. Dipper’s escaped those before. This attention has too much focus, and too little fun. 

No, Bill’s preparing for something. Involving Dipper. 

Maybe it’s another demon event? But Bill hasn’t dragged him to one since the first debacle, and he didn’t need to get decked out for that. If they’re going somewhere, it would probably be demon-related, or -

“Aha!” 

Uh oh. Bill has an idea. 

“You gotta have something of mine. Over the top won’t do for now, so obviously-” He wheels around, back facing Dipper. A swirl of magic stirs in manifestation. “We gotta go subtle.” 

When he turns back, it’s with a flash of silver. One palm outspread with two small, golden studs rolling around. 

The other pinches a bright, sharp needle, flashing in the light.

“Alright, turn your head.” Bill says. Then, at Dipper’s obvious alarm - a sigh. “Aw, come on! Tons of humans have their ears pierced! Two little jabs,” A quick, pointed demonstration has Dipper backpedaling. “And bam! New decoration holes!”

Dipper gives that the skeptical look it deserves. Bill’s smile somehow gets even brighter, eyebrows wiggling. 

No way, no how. He is so done with having any sharp things jabbed into his anywhere.

Problem being, Bill has a plan in mind. One he’s prepped over long hours, and he’s far too clever. Any protest will be met with cajoling and convincing, and somehow, inevitably, wrangle him into doing something dumb that hurts. There’s no point in arguing.. 

So Dipper simply… doesn’t.

“Okay.” He says. Keeping his tone quiet, he ducks his head until his chin nearly hits his chest. “If you. Think I should.”

“You should think it’s cool!” Bill’s voice is still cheerful. Totally upbeat. Anyone less knowledgeable might miss the hint of tension. “Just a coupla pokes and it’s over. Then you get to wear great stuff that looks like me!”

Dipper nods. He does it very slowly, deliberately silent. 

There’s a soft noise. Not quite annoyance, but not frustration either. A few footsteps tap on carpet, coming closer before they abruptly stop. 

Bill lets out a low hiss, then mutters something before finishing his approach. Just a little more, then. 

When he’s within arm’s reach, Dipper looks up. 

He meets Bill’s eye, keeping his own wide. Blinking a few times to moisten them, and wearing the biggest, bravest face. The look of a man ready to do as he’s told even though he’s so, so afraid. 

And for the kicker, Dipper makes his lower lip quiver. Just a tad. 

Striking the balance between ‘tremble’ and ‘deliberately twitch’ is hard; he hopes it lands. Keeping up this stupid expression is hard. 

Bill’s eye twitches, he takes a sharp breath. Lip curling up in a near-sneer, reaching out - 

And with a sound of disgust, he throws the needle directly into the wall. It quivers in place while he groans in disappointment.

“Ugh! Whatever.” Bill stalks away, throwing his arms in the air. “Keep your stupid ears intact.” He  folds his arms over his chest, tapping a bicep with one annoyed finger. “You’re missing out, you know!”

Dipper’s shoulders drop; he loosens his tie again with a relieved sigh. Over by the couch, Bill huffs and puffs and stomps around. He blows out a bunch of words about a certain mortal being a ‘killjoy’, and ‘fashion backward’, and so on and so forth. 

But there’s no real venom in his tone. Only frustration, with a hint of fine whine.

All of that, and Dipper stands where he was. Untouched. No poking or prodding and absolutely no punishment forthcoming. No terrible consequences. 

Incredibly, and impossibly - the ‘sad face’ gambit works. Part of Dipper knew it would, just. The idea that any human emotion could derail Bill Cipher’s plans seemed pretty improbable.

He really can get away with anything, if he plays it right. Being ‘special’ kind of rules. 

For a while, Dipper wasn’t certain about that adjective. He still isn’t, not entirely. Overthinking has led him to stranger places, and growing up among the faithful didn’t help. They made a whole religion from reading into things that weren’t actually there. 

But Bill patched up his wound. Showed him around, gave him a place to live. Worked for weeks to find a way to restore his tongue, an impossible, incredible gift. Add on the dinners, the attention, the conversation and the hanging out. The warm touch so often present-

Bill, in his own, bizarre, insane, and purposefully obscured way - kinda, maybe, cares about what Dipper wants. 

It’s only sometimes. Not always. It’s not perfect or complete. 

But the idea is too weird for Dipper to come up with on his own, and there’s like, a billion tons of evidence.

He watches Bill tap his shoe on the floor, an annoyed but thoughtful beat. Already coming up with some other scheme, now that he’s been temporarily thwarted. 

Special. A strange conceit. It’s a dispensation to do whatever he desires. Whatever limit there is, he hasn’t found the edges yet.

Under any other circumstances, he’d be thrilled.

Except that makes two facts that Dipper knows, and they go all too well together.

As Bill sulks, off in the corner of the room, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets and resolutely does not walk forward.

Touching Bill, especially to reassure his already too-bloated ego, is simply a bad move. Even if he’s always making exceptions for this one useless human.

Even if he has had certain... past proclivities.

Dipper clenches his hands into fists, glaring down at the carpet. Biting his tongue both literally and metaphorically.

Said proclivities don't include people like him.

Bill likes people who are cool and smart and strong. Dipper's only special because... it's probably the birthmark. Something magical, that doesn’t actually mean anything. Acting on his stupid impulses is a terrible, horrible idea. A lesson he should have learned by now. 

Testing a few limits is fine. Pushing them is another, and that’s never, ever worked out in Dipper’s favor, not even once. Even when he thought it was an exception, or had a good reason. 

Getting caught taking too big a step means getting taught not to do it. As firmly as needed.

He can’t risk that. Not with Bill. Not with all he’s done and given him and… everything.

Anyway, it’s probably fine. It’s okay. Insanity is practically normal here, and Dipper absolutely knows how to keep his damn mouth shut.

All he has to do is stop thinking about it. Keep his hands at his sides, and his eyes off Bill’s face, and his everything and just. Stop. Don’t push it. No matter what Bill does, or how close he gets. He can manage that, at least. 

He has to, before Bill figures him out. 

Bill must really be distracted, too, because he’s not making some quick remark at Dipper’s tense posture, or the look on his face. 

“We gotta find you a ‘fit, kid. Don’t get me wrong, this is cute and all -” Bill says, waving over Dipper. Glaring at him gets a smirk in return. “Just not quite what ya want for… certain activities.”

“Any chance you’re going to tell me what those ‘activities’ are?” Dipper knows the lack of an answer already - but he might as well try.

“Eh, you’ll see! Gotta figure out what kinda symbols I can leave on ya, since I know you’re not a robes kinda guy anymore.” Bill pauses when he sees the look on Dipper’s face and snorts. “Don’t worry, sapling. I’ll get this sorted well before your surprise is ready!”

And he winks. 

Dipper stares back at him. The lingering bits of daydream drop away as it’s rudely shoved aside by other, more insidious thoughts.

Symbols. ‘Surprise’.

Robes.

Short and stupid and scared he might be, but the one thing Dipper’s never been is a fool. 

As Bill starts pacing again, he forces a ‘cute’ smile on his face. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Got to delay him. Convince him to delay. Now that he’s caught Bill’s attention, he throws in extra spice by walking in and patting his bicep. “Take your time, okay?”

“Easy, Pine Tree, I got this!” Bill’s chest puffs out the instant Dipper touches his arm. Now muscles flex under Dipper’s palm as Bill pats the back of his hand. “I think we can go with the suit once I getcha the rest of the stuff.”

He rambles on, about ‘symbolism’ and ‘making an impact’. Dipper lets the words wash over him without paying them mind. They’re not important. He needs space and time to think about all the rest of this horrible debacle. 

No time to ask any more questions. Or be here, while Bill sorts his own part out. The picture’s crystal clear. 

“I should go and… do a thing.”

“Sure, sure,” Bill says, waving him off absentmindedly. Already there’s a tangle of ties in his hand; he glares at them like he’s wrangling a bunch of snakes.

Dipper’s room isn’t far. He makes it there easily, and doesn’t even slam the door behind himself. 

With his back against the solid wood, and the demon far behind him, Dipper grits his teeth. “Shit.”

A trip, Bill says. Something ‘fitting’ Bill says. Suggesting gold depictions of himself and flattering attire and the awful goddamn robes. Part of a presentation.

Damn it, he knew this plot was in the works. He just didn’t think it’d come so soon. 

Bill’s bringing him back there. Back to earth, and to everyone back at - 

The stupid tie is too tight. Dipper pulls it off and over his head, swearing as he throws it aside. Whatever. Bill’s going to replace it, anyway. 

Dipper lived in that conclave for… well, as long as he can remember. His parent’s aren’t part of it, either they left or died or - hell, maybe they were sacrificed. He doesn’t know and nobody ever answered when he asked. 

Two decades of chanting and conforming and absolute idiocy. A lifetime of never knowing what was going on, yet always knowing too much. Years and years of the same halls and the same people and the same place. 

The conformity, of course, was by design. When he was in the cult, everyone was supposed to meld into their molds. Everyone else did, taking their places, following the strict scripture. And even with everything pushing him into place, Dipper still stood out like a sore to be picked at until it bled. 

Just him. Set apart, somehow, even in identical clothing. Belonging to, but never with.

He thought he was done with that place, damn it.

He still can picture the walls of his room, and the dust on stone. The musty concrete and rickety furniture of the aboveground buildings. He can smell the candle wax, even now, cloying and - 

Swearing, Dipper slaps a palm over the candle on his desk, snuffing it out even as it stings his palm. 

Deep breaths. Calming, careful ones. Eyes open so he can see his hands on the wood of the desk, and feel the lacquer curl up under his fingernails.

Not having to think about where he came from took a weight off he didn’t realize he was carrying. Going back is - 

This has just thrown him off a bit, that’s all. Too many memories. A little bit of shoving and he can shut that mental door again.

If only he’d had more time to prepare, this wouldn’t be so bad. Didn’t Bill suggest it only, like, a couple weeks ago? A week, maybe? Time’s hard to keep track of, and the idea felt so distant. Like they’d never get around to it.

Now time is limited. As is Bill’s patience. Maybe he could keep him waffling about one tie color or another, that’d last a good few hours. 

Only once he’s done, they’re still going to go. 

Getting revenge. Everything he dreamed of, curled up in bed and aching and full of helpless anger, finally possible with the power he’s been granted. Bill Cipher by his side should only be a bonus.

Except now there’s pressure because it’s not a dream, and not just Dipper yelling at everyone with his newfound tongue. 

Bill Cipher is gonna be there and if Dipper knows anything about the guy - 

It’s that he’s going to want to make it a whole damn show. 

He’ll want to pick the place apart. Including very last dramatic twist and turn Bill finds entertaining -

And Dipper has to participate. 

Before anything else, he has to find his other notes. Why didn’t he get a folder or something? All the papers are scattered over the desk, piles sitting unsorted in the drawers. He kneels beside the left hand drawer and tries to figure out where the hell he put those spells. 

On paper, scribbled spells remain half-finished. A few concepts he didn’t even get to That stage on, suggestions with question marks at the end. A quick little sketch of the priest with the knife in his chest and Xs for eyes.

Dipper really should have prepared for ‘vengeance’ better. Especially since he knew it was coming. 

It’s just…

Clutching the papers in his hands, Dipper tries to think of what to do - then winces, smoothing the papers back out on the desk. 

Part of him thought maybe they could forget to do this for, y’know. Maybe another two decades or so. About as much time as Dipper spent in the stupid cult himself. That’d be equal. Practically equilateral, even.

Is it too much to ask to stay here? Where things are chaotic as hell, but actively don’t suck?

Maybe it is. Bill would think that’s too boring.

That’s what Dipper gets for hoping, he guesses. The clock ran out when he wasn’t paying attention. Now he has to muddle through and hope it doesn’t go sideways. Like everything else. 

Judging by the sounds from the living room, Bill’s stopped pacing in thought. The eerie silence is broken by cackling laughter. 

Dipper has maybe ten minutes, give or take a few. 

He shuffles the scraps of spells around the desk, discarding this one and that. Most of these aren’t feasible, either too complicated or not even revenge-related. That might not matter if Bill takes over everything. Pretty likely he will, too, since that’s his whole deal.

And the things he can imagine Bill doing are… 

Maybe he won’t go that far. They’re all terrible idiots and cruel and… and just stupid - but he won’t be that annoyed, surely. 

Good thing, too. Dipper learned all about Bill’s wrath, even before he met the guy. Without him being really pissed, though…. That doesn’t leave much cover. Dipper’s going to have to be careful not to draw his attention, lest Bill notice that he’s…

Shit, who is he kidding. Bill will take the lead, but Dipper will have to participate, somehow. He’s already dressed up for the occasion. 

Damn it, what does Bill want from him? 

Dipper can’t do stuff that’s too complicated. Power is easy enough to come by, but finesse is another. Even then, he’d still need a concept to work with, and Dipper’ss not sure he can manage, without anger pushing him on. Some of the old ideas that seemed so perfect back in the day just make him feel sick.

Everything’s a muddle. Dipper has basically nothing that’s not stomach-churning doodles or a half-scrap of experimental spellcraft. This one he doesn’t think he can pull off, and one that…. He was angry when he wrote that. Thinking about the stump of his tongue after a bad dream, one that wasn’t Bill’s fault. 

Actually…

The framework of this other spell isn’t bad. A curse, of sorts. One that’s dumb, and kind of silly - but it might have something to it.

Time to get to work. 

Dipper loses himself in the equations, lines of text and runes, coming together neatly in thin little columns. 

He’s good at this. He knows he is. As one of the few magic users in the cult, Dipper found brief moments of respite when he got to do this. Nobody would bother him. Not when he was the best. And what he made could never be used on him. It was calm. Quiet. So, so safe. 

And the process of solving a problem, seeing the result full and complete in front of him, has always been very satisfying. 

The door slams open. Dipper nearly stabs his thumb with the pen, swearing in surprise. 

Shit. Fuck. He’s out of time, he has, like. One completed curse idea, and it’s the dumbest one he had in store. 

Why didn’t he prepare for this.

“Found it!” Bill exclaims, waving a hideously gaudy golden tie in the air.  “Ready or not, here we go!”

And what can Dipper say to that.

“No need to fret, sapling. They all know we’re coming already!” Bill waves off the worries in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. “There are people who’ve dreamt of this moment.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know why that would be. Or where they’re going, if Dipper didn’t know already. An anvil would drop more lightly than that hint.

He gets up from his chair. Lets Bill put the new tie on him, and adjust his shirt. Looking just over Bill’s shoulder and a bit to his left. 

All the while, Bill goes on and on about thinking about this for ages’ and ‘way easier to mess with ‘believers’’ and ‘no time like the solstice, am I right?’

Okay. That’s that. This is what Bill wants to do, so they’re doing it. It can’t take very long, either; At worst it’s a few hours and Dipper can turn his head away from any messy parts. 

Dipper nods whenever it sounds like something important was said. Bill’s wearing his typical yellow, he notices. Dressed about as sharply and cleanly as Dipper’s seen, like he’s just gotten back from the dry cleaners.

They’re going. Actually going. 

No more delays, no clever excuses. Heading to Earth and that one particular set of caverns. 

No escape. 

What will it be like, after all this time? The priest is gone. That has to have changed things. Has someone taken his place, or are they arguing about who’s in charge? Is Bill leading everything, now that he’s paying attention? He could if he put in some effort, but how would that change things? If he’s even bothered at all.  

Of course, if Bill’s been messing with the cultists - and he’s admitted as much - then one thing’s certain. They’ll be very worked up. Practically in a state of fervor.

Dipper’s only seen that a few times in his life, it’s pretty rare. The one event where everyone really got hyped up was …

He rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand.

The sound of a creaking doorknob catches his attention. At some point they entered the living room; Dipper startles a bit as Bill pulls him to the door out of the penthouse, wide open in front of them.

“First things first - back to your crapsack planet.” Bill reaches in for a cheek pinch, then looks surprised when Dipper doesn’t dodge. He tilts his head, shrugging that off. “You’ll be doing the honors, of course.”

“Yes, my lord.” Dipper says on automatic. He catches the look on Bill’s face and grimaces. “I mean, yeah. Sure.”

There’s a long moment where Bill simply. Looks at him. His gaze feels like it could penetrate into Dipper’s brain, reading down to his deepest thoughts - 

And shit, that can’t happen. Too much pushing and Bill could learn that he’s -

“So what do I do?” Dipper interrupts before Bill can delve too deep. He pastes a smile on his face, and hopes it comes across as sincere. “Is it like - a spell, or  an artifact, or a gesture, or-”

“Ha!” Bill claps his shoulder, grinning again. Distracted. Good. “Nah, it’s easier than that! Here-” And he takes Dipper’s hands in his, elegant fingers tracing along them. “Lemme show you.”

And it is easy. Surprisingly so. 

One nudge of magic against magic, and Dipper sees what to do. Lit up by Bill’s power, pouring down his arms and into his chest. Like a switch he can flip, except inside. He’d never noticed it before.

“Oh.” He looks up at Bill, eyes wide. Shit, of course, he’s got the birthmark. He can do that, and it’s -. “Wow.”

Bill grins back at him. “Whatd’ya say, kid? We gonna get going or what?”

If only ‘or what’ was an option. 

Dipper nods, once. Concentrates, hard. And -

The transition is, for lack of a better term, wibbly. Dipper suddenly empathizes with a sheet of laminated paper, except when *he* shakes the sound is only internal. He clings to Bill’s arms as the room around them shifts.  Light stings his eyes; he has to squint and shade them. 

“See? No big deal!” Bill says, with deep approval. “Even got pretty close to the goal!”

They’re in… 

He can see a tree nearby, kind of sparse. A footpath, and grass, and - there are a lot of buildings, not too far away. But they don’t look like anything like the ones in the compound. Too large, too complicated. 

It looks like they’re in… a grassy clearing? A park, maybe? Some bit of green amongst the bustle of a goddamn city. 

This is… Not where he thought they’d end up. 

He reels on Bill, and the shock must be evident on his face because he’s smirking. “Wait, this isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?” Bill says, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re an amateur, kid. I might not do the transfer, but I can jog your elbow on the steering.”

Interesting, but. This isn’t the place he was expecting, not by a long shot. “I just thought-”

“Thought what?” Bill asks, almost teasingly. The look he’s wearing says that he knows Dipper’s caught onto his plan, but that being cryptic is way more fun than fessing up. He claps Dipper on the back. “No point in starting things off on an empty stomach. We’re doing brunch first.”

With that said, he takes Dipper’s hand in his own, and yanks him forward into the bustling streets. 

Dipper follows in a daze. There’s a city outside of the compound, an hour or two away - but he’d never seen it. Only heard about it in whispered rumors. That it was terrible and filthy and full of sin, a place too dangerous to even think about. 

He grips Bill’s hand tighter, dawdling behind him as he takes in the view. 

He never thought it would look like this. 

The buildings are so tall. The roads are so busy, and the *people* - Dipper’s never seen this many people before, walking the sidewalks and hanging at bus stops, milling in and out of buildings. The sound of the cars is practically deafening but nobody else seems to react. 

Even the Fearamid isn’t this busy unless there’s a party going on. Everything’s noise and light and not-so-great smells of pure, busy humanity. There’s so many people around that even Dipper could disappear into that huge mass of bodies.

Clutching Bill’s arm still seems like the best option, though. Just so he doesn’t wander off and leave Dipper standing alone in the streets.

“Boy, that craphole cult was real repressive, wasn’t it?” Bill sounds deeply amused. He pats Dipper’s hand, leading him into some restaurant. Dipper’s never been in a restaurant, how do they do this-  “Later on we gotta bring you to an actual metropolis. Culture shock’s a cute look on you!”

Hold on, Dipper’s not shocked. Just. A little thrown, that’s all. 

Bill did have a point, though. Brunch is excellent.

The spread is almost better than Bill’s place, though mostly because it’s thematically consistent. Dipper stares wide eyed at the crowd, listening to their conversations and stuffing his face with french toast. Bill, meanwhile, downs several glasses of something orange and fizzy. 

Before too long - Bill keeping the conversation flowing, Dipper almost certainly acting like he’s some…. Country hick or something, with all the staring he’s doing - Bill gets up, and pats him on the shoulder.

Dipper glances down at an empty plate. Frowning faintly. They’ve only been here, like, an hour, maybe two. There’s more to the city, he’s sure; he hasn’t seen even a single percent of what he wants to - 

But fine. Bill says go, then Dipper’s gotta get up and follow.  

They head out on the busy streets. Bill seems totally in place here, even though he should stand out like a sore thumb - or maybe he does, because a lot of people are backing away from him as he strides down the sidewalk..

The garage is another surprise, and the third is when a nervous old man hands Bill the keys to a bright red car without a top on it. Something out of date, even to Dipper’s inexperienced eyes. Possibly from the last time he was on Earth, which would make it - Dipper doesn’t even know how old.

Either way, there’s no time. Before he can ask too many questions or even think too much, they’re driving at a high speed down the highway. 

Already on the move. Just like Bill; he doesn’t stay still often, he has too much energy. Kind of a shame really. Dipper could have spent a lot longer in town than just brunch. 

Dipper watches the buildings go by, chin resting in his hand. Sure, that was. A Lot. But he’s used to dealing with things that are A Lot by now.

And it was… Beautiful. Messy and complicated and beautiful.

Why does Bill want to change reality? It already has plenty of chaos. Even if it’s not Bill’s type, or not enough for him - so what?  He has the Fearamid for that. A multidimensional pyramid larger than three of those huge skyscrapers put together, packed with thousands of demons who all obey his whims. 

All his power, and all the chaos he could possibly conjure. Bill has plenty of everything he wants, and Dipper got, like, three hours of seeing the place. Fascinating, busy stuff that Bill would bulldoze over on the slightest whim, before he could - 

It’s not fair. 

Bill drives on blithely, as Dipper hunches over in his seat. He must not be reading Dipper’s mind, because he isn’t reacting to the incredibly heretical thoughts bubbling up.

Like how it isn’t fair that Bill has fucking everything. All the power and the knowledge and the immortality. The sheer confidence to see what he wants, and take it. 

Even with everything going for him, Bill’s still not satisfied. Nothing will ever be enough, including his own bed of chaos and destruction, he has to take and want and consume. He always wants more. 

Dipper grips the seatbelt. It cuts into his palms; he holds on tighter. 

Earth isn’t Bill’s, and it has to stay that way. He doesn’t need this place. Ruining stuff for a tiny bit fun is just… evil.

Somebody should stop him. 

A light touch on Dipper’s arm has him flinching. It’s just Bill, though. Taking Dipper by the wrist and prying until the deathgrip on the seatbelt relaxes. He laces his fingers through Dipper’s, whistling a cheerful tune.

Dipper relaxes a fraction. He sits back in his seat, and gives Bill’s hand a squeeze.

Not like, stop-stop him, though. More like… whack him with a broom, or rolled-up newspaper until he stops goddamn sniffing around someone else’s stuff. 

Good thing he can’t actually take over Earth, then. Whatever keeps Bill in line, Dipper hopes it sticks to him like glue.

Then Bill laughs, and Dipper jolts against the seatbelt, gripping the car for dear life as they screech around a corner. On the straightaway they slow down a tad; The trees are less a blur. Dipper can make out each individual one again. 

His heart still beats fast, a rapid rabbiting pace. 

They’re close. He can tell. Something in the air, the scent of it. That one large tree in the distance, and it’s not like Bill’s going to turn around for him. They’re too deep in at this point, heading back to -

There it is.

He can see the buildings, low and almost ramshackle compared to the town. The heavy canvas of some surface tents, the metal doors to the lower cavern passages, where the main bulk of the cult resides and  - judging by the time - likely is in the middle of their mid-afternoon devotions. 

Bill slows the car, turning in a lazy semi-circle to head towards the entrance. He hums for a moment, then slows to a stop. Apparently thinking over their approach. 

Time for contemplation. That’s a first. Not that Dipper’s going to complain; even a brief reprieve gives him time to think. 

Frankly, he’s not sure how they’ll get in... But it’s not like there’s a lot in their way, either.

The fence around the compound is barely seven feet tall. Chain link wire with a lock on the gate. It ropes around the buildings, all encompassing - but very, very thin.

And from the outside, it looks so… Small. 

Months ago Dipper would have said it was impossible to pass. Climbable, yes - but then where would he go? Into the world, with all the heretics and criminals, the sinful mass of man? Where he knew nobody, and had nothing? A world of trouble and terror and people who could hurt him. Too many unknowns to risk.

After spending time with Bill, though, he can see it as the demon would - absolutely pathetic. 

There isn’t even razor wire on top. 

Kind of funny, really, that what keeps the cultists in is more mental than physical. Literally the only thing that even vaguely fits their ‘god’, and they weren’t even trying.

Then he hears the engine rev. Bill gives his hand a squeeze, turning towards him with a vicious grin, as the car accelerates at a terrifying speed, running straight towards -

“Wait! You’re going to hit-!” Dipper says, at the same time he realizes that’s the point.

The fence crashes down around them with a tangle of twisted metal and a noise so loud that it must be audible even underground. Bill laughs like a madman, spinning the car around to a stop in the midst of the buildings in a smoking circle. For the seventh time today, Dipper’s extremely glad he put on his seatbelt.

“Woo!” Bill exclaims, turning off the ignition and leaping over the driver’s side to stand on the ground. He sets fists on his hips, examining the compound like a particularly interesting new piece of land to conquer.  “Nothing like a bit of wanton destruction to start off the day, am I right?”

Dipper’s still too rattled to move; he feels around for the latch to the seatbelt. Once it’s undone, he simply. Sits in place. He needs a moment. 

“No sense dallying, kid.” Striding around the car, Bill opens the door and half-helps, half-lifts Dipper bodily out of the seat. “We got a lot of vengeance to take!”

Dipper hesitates. Then he nods, not sure what to say.

Bill glances at him. A quick once over, then a big bright smile. “See? You’re fine.” Another quick pat on the back, then a palm pressing against it as he steers Dipper around the car and forward. “Ready or not, here we come!”

The packed earth of the conclave kicks up dust under Dipper’s feet. It’s getting all over his shoes. He feels a little pang - Bill really wanted him to look presentable, and now it’s getting all messed up. He should maybe go back to the car and try and clean it up - 

Another insistent push. Dipper straightens his back, pulling his arms around to his front while he still can. Before - no, Bill wouldn’t grab like that, or drag him along the dirt. Not after getting him dressed up, it’d ruin all the work he put in.

Right. And he’s not in trouble, this time. Bill’s - it’s fine. He has to remember that.

Dipper forces his head up, glancing around the buildings.

Welp. Here they are. Back at the cult. The sight and the surroundings and the smell of the place bring memories bubbling to the surface. 

And their dramatic entrance caught considerable attention, because the doors to the caverns slam open with a resounding ‘clang’. 

Two bulky cultists storm out - no robes, just ‘regular’ clothing, ready to investigate the interlopers - then screech to a halt as they see their God approach. Dipper swears their heels leave tracks in the dirt. 

“Hey, fellas,” Bill says, with a too-casual wave. “Didja miss me? I know you missed me!”

Dipper watches their expressions change, from stony focus to wide-eyed alarm. One of them drops to his knees, while the other stays still as a statue. 

“Now that’s what I like to see.” Bill heads over to the two shocked humans, pulling Dipper along in his wake. He sets hands on his hips, smirking. “Ahem. Proper deference is due, dontcha think?”

He snaps his fingers, and the other grunt buckles. He hits the ground, knees first, then flops over nearly on his face, both hands pressed together in prayer, with sweat building on his thick forehead. 

Oh hey.  Dipper knows these guys. 

He’d almost forgotten - how could he forget - that these were the two that pulled him up to the altar. For his ‘sacrifice’. Where he nearly…

A quick glance over at Bill shows no recognition. But then - right, he wasn’t there for most of that. And most humans are beneath his notice. 

“Much better,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. Pulling Dipper along behind him, he strides past the two guards. One of them groans; Dipper barely catches Bill’s leg pull back from what was a very solid kick.

Sunlight dips out of view as they head down the stairs. It’s cooler underground, though not by much so far. Even then Dipper feels oddly clammy. He keeps wiping his hands on his clothes and still they feel cold and damp.

Here they go, then. 

Now it’s time to show off all he’s learned, and the power he has now. The gifts Bill has given him, and the favor he’s been shown. 

Dipper swallows, though it’s difficult. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth. 

Behind the ‘welcoming committee’, a small crowd of robed figures huddles on the cavern steps. One yelps at the sight of Bill, whispering about ‘prophecy’. Another, younger man scuttles off, calling down the hallways. The rest stare at Bill with a mix of stunned looks, and absolute reverence. 

Dipper knows these people, too. A couple of the older group, a few younger. The middle-aged man with the weasley too-eager look; frankly Dipper’s surprised he’s here, instead of back at the altar. He would have sworn that that guy was planning on stabbing the priest before Bill did, and for more ambitious reasons. 

“What are you doing. Our lord has come to us!” The ambitious one hisses, tucking the hood of his robe up and elbowing the other cultists around him. “Be presentable for him.”

There’s a quiet rush to cover up faces; adjusting trinkets and bowing in a rush. Dipper watches the pale, shocked face of one of his classmates, too stunned to pull up her hood until an older man shoves it on with enough force to nearly topple her. 

A gentle tug on Dipper’s wrist catches his attention. He turns towards Bill, blinking up at a wide, wicked grin. 

“Y’know, I didn’t really get a good look at the place before, kid.” Bill says, lifting his chin to survey the winding tunnels of the cavern. He squeezes Dipper’s wrist. “Before we start the main event - how ‘bout a little tour?”

Dipper hesitates. That’s not very exciting, but. It’s true that Bill sort of showed up and dipped out without looking around. He’s a curious guy. He would want to take a look with his own eyes, not just the images of them. 

Another tug, followed by a teasing nudge. “What, you forget your way around?”

Dipper shakes his head, but before he can figure out what to say, the ambitious man steps forward. 

“My lord,” He simpers, bowing so low he nearly loses his balance. “A mere acolyte - a blasphemer - does not deserve the honor of guiding you. Let me-”

His words cut off abruptly. Bill moves lightning-fast, and his grip on the exposed throat slams skull against the stone wall.  

The man squirms at the end of Bill’s arm like a worm on a hook. His eyes bulge out, stark white in the bright red of his face as he scrambles for purchase, both trying to find his footing and not daring to claw at his ‘god.’ The hand on his neck tightens further, a sickening squeeze. Flesh bulges between Bill’s fingers like dough. 

“If I wanted your opinion,” Bill hisses, teeth bared in something not-quite a smile. “I’d scoop it outta your skull with a dessert spoon.” 

There’s a wet noise;something cartilaginous crunches, and Dipper shuts his eyes. His knuckles have gone white where he’s holding Bill’s arm. 

“Ha!” Bill sounds amused. There’s some thumping, then a ‘thud’ as he lets the body drop.  “Boy, humans are squishy.” 

The girl cultist hiccups, in a way that suggests she’s about to cry, wavering like she’ll fall. All the rest have backed away, sticking to the walls like barnacles. 

Dipper makes a low sound in the back of his throat.  All he gets in return is a quick flash of smile, and a pat on his hand as the last struggles die down at the end of Bill’s arm. 

“Figures. Some jackasses just can’t mind their own business!” Bill says, rolling his eye. “But enough with that, kid. Let’s get going!”

Yes, definitely, absolutely. Dipper nods again, holding tight to Bill’s arm and shuffling past the robed and staring cultists. 

Anything to get away from that. 

A tour, though. There’s very little that can go wrong with that, because there’s not a ton to see. Dipper can walk him around some tunnels and wave at the poorly decorated rooms. Then it’ll be done, and they can-

At some point the other, unstrangled cultists started trailing in their wake Dipper does a double-take when he notices, and catches a glance of his classmate, and her wide, wet, slightly reddened eyes. 

He can’t believe that after all of… that, they’re still following. 

“So! Why not start with your digs?” Bill nudges him with an elbow, with a teasing smile. Like he’s completely forgotten . “I’ve been meaning to see how you lived it up!”

The pointy bit of his elbow hits Dipper’s ribs, and he doesn’t flinch. This is fine, and normal. It’s not a punishment.

Bringing him to his old room though… He doesn’t think Bill would like that.

Dipper shakes his head, once. Lips pursed together, not sure how to explain. 

That it’s not… the guest room back at Bill’s place is better. This one was ransacked before he even left. If Bill wants to know more about him, he could just barge into Dipper’s new room and figure everything out. 

For some reason, Bill’s looking at him weird. 

After a moment, he nudges Dipper in the side again, smiling wider.. “Can’t be anything I haven’t seen before, sapling. I’ve been all around the multiverse!” He throws an arm out before him.  “Lead the way!”

An order. 

Dipper straightens up. He can’t exactly disobey that. Not in front of - Bill asked him to do it. It’s not that big a deal. Maybe it won’t be bad. 

And it’s not like he can stop their ‘tour’ now.

Word must have gotten out about their arrival by this point. The messenger did his work. Still doing it, actually; Dipper can hear him calling out and knocking on doors, and the bustle of footsteps on stone goes from a few taps to a quiet thunder. 

Their company hasn’t left to join the summons. A few more have peeked out of their rooms, a small bustle of robes behind them. Looking for signs from this incredible supernatural being. Taking in their every move.

The back of Dipper’s shirt is cool with sweat. Hopefully it doesn’t show through the suit. Bill wouldn’t like that. 

He guides Bill Cipher along the halls of the conclave, feet treading familiar stone. Even through these thick-soled shoes, he knows every inch of this uneven rock. He never misplaces a step. 

Bill doesn’t stumble either. Not even once. In that his recovery’s so fast that almost nobody would notice, if he wasn’t holding tight to Dipper. 

And that’s how a god should be. Unapproachable, untouchable. Never a single flaw. A firm hand, holding him on his upper arm, guiding the believer with perfect knowledge.

Despite everything, Dipper’s still not a believer - but he hopes his expression is appropriately devout. Bill’s right beside him, yet he’s the one leading the way. A sheep leading a wolf.

Gotta make it look good. For Bill. That’s what he wants.

Getting to his old room doesn’t take long. It’d be nice if there were more hallways to meander, and put this off.

But Bill did order it andDipper hasn’t forgotten his place. He doesn’t think he ever could. 

As they pass by the dormitories, he slows to a near crawl. Bill casts another glance over, then rolls his eyes. 

“What’s with the dawdling?” Bill says, bright and amused. He jogs Dipper’s arm in a playful waggle “Too many pictures of me? Some racy sketches?”

Dipper purses his lips, and doesn’t dignify that with an answer. He shrugs instead. 

Bill lets out a sharp breath, but doesn’t add on. There’s that faint frown again, brow furrowed. Not in a ‘disappointment at no banter’ way, something different.  Dipper can’t place it.

Not that he has time to work it out. They’re here. 

He lurches to a stop in front of his old room. Bill makes a confused noise, looking between Dipper and the crowd behind him. Then, squinting, at the door to his left.

“What, that’s it?” Bill glances between the entrance and Dipper. “No, ‘come on in’, or ‘oh no, don’t go in there’? Not even a ‘home, sweet, home’?”

It’s so hard for Dipper not to bite his lip. He’s glad he doesn’t, though; his teeth are gritted so hard they would snip right through.

This is just a place he stayed, once. It’s not a great one, not even a good one. He never belonged here. 

There’s a beat of silence, then - Bill lets out a huff. The metal hinges creak as he pushes the door open, and storms into Dipper’s former lodgings with a grunt. 

Dipper hovers near the doorway, but doesn’t enter. He already knows every inch of the place. There’s nothing else he needs to see. 

Two steps in, Bill pauses. Probably because there wasn’t enough space to truly storm in. 

For a moment, he even looks… surprised? 

Dipper frowns. Like. What was he expecting, another palace? It’s pretty much the same as any other low-ranking member; if anything Dipper was lucky it wasn’t a literal cell. 

Bill takes another step, pausing in the middle of the room. Stalks forward a few paces, then seems to measure the length and breadth of it with his steps. His shoe taps a fast rhythm on the floor, and Dipper sees his eye twitch - then he turns. Touching the back wall, where admittedly there are a few marks. 

No Bills, though. Just tallies from the days Dipper wasn’t allowed out. There aren’t too many, really. It could have been worse. 

Dipper turns to let Bill do… whatever he’s doing, without being spied on - then instantly turns back. 

He rests his head on the cold stone, just near the doorway. Inside, he can hear Bill muttering something under his breath. 

The little group of cultists tagging along has swelled to a pretty decent one. Dozens of people packing the halls, with tentative whispers and quiet mutters of reverence. Watching everything Bill does, albeit with some confusion as to why he’s poking around some loser’s room. 

And Dipper, too. 

They know him, same as he knows them. A familiarity borne of years of experience. And while yes, he did disappear in the presence of their god - he’s still the same person. He’s been here since he was young, running carelessly around the halls and getting his robes tangled. They’ve had years of hearing what he said, and memories of the ceremony. Where absolutely everyone had to attend. 

Clothes aren’t going to fool them. They see who he really is. 

This blasphemer, sticking out like a sore thumb next to the elegance of their god, and he can’t… What if they aren’t wrong, for once.

Any moment now they’ll raise their voices, loud and ringing with chants, and he’ll be back in that room alone. Locked in and - 

“Ha!” Bill storms out of the chamber, snorting and taking Dipper by the shoulder. “Whatever. You’ve got plenty of cool stuff back at my place!” 

One firm pat nearly sends Dipper reeling; he wasn’t braced for it. He straightens up and looks attentive. 

Everyone’s watching. Best behavior, no slipups. 

Bill watches him, head cocked to one side. He’s got a weird expression on his face. Smiling, but thinly. A tension around his eye that - He looks away before Dipper can get a good look. 

“Gotta say though, I’m not impressed,” Bill says, turning a look to the crowd. Their bodies shuffle against each other in terrified silence, before his eye flicks back to Dipper. “But hey, I’ve seen worse! Mostly when I’ve caused it!”

Dipper keeps staring at the opposite wall. He doesn't want to see anyone’s faces, even in the shadow of their hoods.

Bill mutters something under his breath, then says, “Let’s get going.”

And so the tour continues. Despite everything. 

They pass the dining hall - Bill scoffs, and drags a finger through today’s basic food. He makes a disgusted face at the thin oatmeal dripping from his finger, before barging into the back kitchen and coming back with fresh donuts. 

He offers one to Dipper, who recoils without taking it. That’s for high-ranking members, not - He can’t. Turning his head away, he shuffles backwards into the hall. 

They’re touring, not having snacks. Best to move on before Bill can throw a fit about whatever he decides isn’t worthwhile this time. 

Bill thankfully moves on when Dipper leaves the room. A little quieter, with that thread of tension drawn a little more tight. can almost feel all his eyes activating, a subtle thrum of power that rings in his senses and has the cultists trailing them let out whispers of prayer. 

There’s nothing that interested him most places; he skips half the rooms Dipper tries to usher him into, striding past in a manner that brooks no argument. 

Dipper should protest. He keeps a steady pace instead, stuffing his hands in the uncomfortable pockets of his suit.

Why can’t they just get things over with now. Nearly everyone’s here, and the others could be gathered shortly in the altar room. It’d take like, five minutes, they’ll do what they came for and it’ll be done.

When they reach the library though. That’s a hit. 

Though not for the reasons their tagalongs would want. 

“Seriously?” Bill scoffs. He thumbs through the several-decade outdated volume, looking wryly amused. “This is the kinda crap they keep around for education?”

And despite everything - Dipper has to let out a snort. God, he wishes he was joking. It’s the worst.

Bill looks up sharply, eye suddenly alight with mischief. “Knew you’d agree, kid,“ He says, warmly smug. And winks. “Oughta show ‘em what this kind of crap deserves!”

With that said, he pulls out a book, throwing it over his shoulder. It lands with a crack, spine splitting, and several pages come loose from their leaves. 

Dipper leaps into action, seizing the book and making a grab at the pages. Before he can start stuffing it back back on the shelf, another one lands nearby. Then another. A third rockets past him, already on fire, and slops to a stop near the opposite bookshelf. Smoke starts to rise from the shelved volumes.

Bill cackles in delight. His rampage continues, careless of whatever happens and whoever has to sort out his goddamn mess. 

“Hey, what’s the problem? It’s all bullshit, anyway.” Bill says, turning to see Dipper scrambling to put out the growing flames. “C’mon, kid! Have some fun!”

He can’t have fun when things are messed up. People are going to get really upset. 

This catalog is supposed to be neat and orderly and undamaged, that was one of the very few responsibilities Dipper was trusted with back when he lived here, and half a minute into Bill being here it’s all going wrong. 

Even if Dipper wasn’t the one to do it, he was nearby when it happened. That’s close enough. 

But Bill’s too fast - Dipper has to race to get things back in order against a being of literal chaos, and he can’t keep up. There’s too much.

Vaguely he hears Bill say something else, but he’s not paying attention. He shoves another book back in place, bending down to scoop up another couple into his arms. One slips out of his grasp and he tries to get it again, only for more to fumble out of his hold. 

“Hey.” A loud voice. Then, louder, “HEY!”

Dipper’s yanked back up onto his feet, and the last of the books tumbles out of his arms. He looks up at Bill, and realizes that at some point he started breathing too fast, and too hard. Now he’s lightheaded, on top of being worried.

“That’s enough.” Bill says, voice flat. 

Dipper lets the last book drop from his arms, and holds very, very still. 

Shit. Shit. shit. He’s screwed up, things aren’t going nearly as smoothly as advertised, and now there’s going to be -

“Finally! Friggin’ useless goddamn-” Bill growls, sneering at the bookshelves and probably not at the useless goddamn acolyte, slightly shaking in front of him. “What’d’ya say we get moving?” 

Dipper nods. 

Bill looks at him with clear frustration, and gives him a jostle. 

Dipper nods again, more fervently. Yes, of course, he’s moving. They’re moving. Tour, yes, right. Back to the hallway. Another room, another show. His legs feel like they’re being puppeted, marching up and down on automatic. 

They pass by rooms, and caverns. Most bits of the cult Bill doesn’t seem interested in, so he moves on. They linger for a full few minutes at the priest’s old quarters - he doesn’t barge in like Bill does, waiting outside as is proper - but when Bill comes back out he can see the smoke rising in the room. 

Again, he’s taken in hand by a strong grip. Again, he marches. 

And with that painfully tight grip on his upper arm, the imposing figure behind hm, Dipper finds himself standing in front of a place he thought he’d never, ever, ever, ever have to go back to. 

Bill didn’t lead him to this place, his feet did. Happening on automatic, before it had time to become a thought. 

And = this time’s different. Bill wouldn't, he’s sure. He can get away this time. He doesn’t have to be here, nothing has been done wrong under Cipher’s all-seeing eye. It’s fine. 

He almost manages to step away before Bill’s grip  holds him short. 

“Oh? What’s this?” Bill says. Back to his lighter tone, genuinely curious. The poke at his ribs is probably intended to be playful. “This place a favorite of yours?”

He waits for a response. When he doesn’t get one for several seconds, he tries the door - locked. Frowning, Bill knocks on the door with a knuckle in a quick demanding rap. 

The door creaks open. The smell of cleaning chemicals doesn't quite cover other, deeper scents.

The elder scourger squints over his glasses, then wipes them on his shirt. Putting them back on, he looks at the crowd, then startles at Bill. Bowing deep, muttering some of the chants -  

Then his eye sets on Dipper, and he breaks out in a knowing grin. 

“Ah, I see the problem, my lord. I’ve handled this one before, always up to no good. Not surprised you had trouble with him.” He sets blunt fists on his hips, knuckles cracking under the pressure. “How many lashes today?”

Bill cocks his head to one side. Tapping his finger with a chin, and  letting out a long, thoughtful hum. 

It only takes a few moments for him to come to a conclusion, and then the flashing white of his smile is blinding. “Oh, there’s gonna be loads of ‘em! Oodles of beatings!” He says, bright and airy. Dipper feels his hand lift from his shoulder and pat his chest, pushing him back. “But I think I'll take care of the troublemaker myself.”

Is it possible to go so cold you die? Dipper doesn’t know if he’s breathing, or if his heart is beating, stiff and still like a statue. 

Then Bill kicks the elder directly in the chest, sending him toppling back into the correction room. Startled swearing rings against stone, along with a clatter of something toppling over. 

Dipper blinks, twice. He looks up. 

Bill sucks in a breath through his teeth, letting it out in a low hiss. The warm hand on Dipper’s chest eases him back until he feels rough stone behind him. He flashes a smile, and winks. “Wait here, kid.”

For a moment Dipper’s confused - he’s not in the room, and now Bill is, charging forward with furious intent, so. What was he saying about - 

The door slams shut. Silence.

Then a scream rings out, muffled by stone - and higher-pitched than it should be, from a grown man. 

Dipper presses up harder against the wall. Every inch of the stone is cool, growing cold against the damp shirt on his back. 

Noises barely heard through the cracks around the door. Ones he’s made before, words half-formed. Pleading, too, and cursing, that’s pretty common. Dipper’s said things he didn’t mean, when he was being corrected, it’s not surprising that someone else would. 

Strangely, Dipper can look off into nothingness. Letting the sounds all pass over and through him, like half-watching something on the TV back at Bill’s. It is happening, in a way, but one that’s distant and fake. No different than anything on that awful drama, or one of Bill’s preferred horror flicks.

Eventually it’s pretty quiet. Dipper’s glad that awful scene is over, it dragged out too long. 

Though even though the punishment’s over, he still hears wet, meaty thuds. 

Even Bill reemerging doesn’t affect him. Though he’s breathing hard, and the bright speckles on the suit jacket slung over his shoulder might as well be colorful paint, instead of - 

Dipper looks at the opposite wall again. Letting it all play out. 

Bill snaps something to one of the crowd, tugging his shirtsleeves back down from their rolled-up position. There’s a quiet response, one that makes him frown as he wipes his hands clean with a damp cloth. 

“So!” Bill says. Very bright. Far too bright, a forced enthusiasm. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I even gave him the ironic fate treatment! Kinda cool, huh?”

Dipper looks at his beaming face - too wide, clearly forced - then drops his gaze to Bill’s lapels. Three red dots are on his collar. A small amount, considering. They even look like they’ve already dried. 

“Hello, you listening? That guy is never gonna lay a finger or anything else on you, ever again.” He tilts Dipper’s head up with one knuckle, smiling more gently. “Seems like cause for celebration to me!”

Though his hands are clean, he might not have gotten under his nails. Or maybe it’s the open door, and the steady drip Dipper hears in the silence. Either way, the hallway reeks of blood, thick enough to -

Dipper’s arm darts out to brace himself as he nearly loses his brunch. 

“Whoa, steady there.” Bill tugs him back upward, holding his upper arms. His eye darts up and down, a quick once-over. “This is going better than planned! Wreaking shop, taking out the worst of the pack, everyone gathering for the Grand Finale…” He trails off. The frown increases. “Pine Tree?”

Dipper looks back up at Bill, but meeting his eyes is too much. He focuses on his chin instead. 

“Hey. HEY,” Bill insists. His eye flickers blue for an instant, roving over him, then returns to gold and shuts, very tightly. For a second, he simply grits his teeth together, then -  “Why won’t you say anything?”

Dipper’s throat works. He swallows, then purses his lips. Putting in more effort just locks his jaw up tighter.

It’s not like he can’t speak. He has a tongue again. All the bits are present and active and should be able to move. He’s not, like, cursed or anything. 

Distantly, he notices he’s shaking. But it’s not very much. If he’s lucky, Bill might not notice. 

He is not making a scene, and he is not complaining. At no point has he stopped things in their tracks, or argued. He kept pace with his god like a good believer, and didn’t throw up on his shoes or anything. He’s fine. He can’t even be corrected anymore.

There's a strange, lingering quiet. 

Not just that the crowd is gone, Dipper realizes, but Bill himself has stopped talking. 

For a few long moments, Bill simply watches him. No commentary, not even a snappy joke. Examining Dipper for some invisible sign. Whatever it is he’s seeing, he’s having a rough time parsing it out. Almost like he’s confused.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and the cloud lifts. Bill even snaps his fingers.

 “Hey.” Bill nudges him, adding a wink as he spreads his arms wide. “You wanna-”

Dipper launches himself into those arms before Bill can finish the sentence. The impact has Bill letting out ‘whoof’ of breath, staggering back a half-step. 

Whatever, he can handle it. Dipper’s just one human, Bill’s tough and strong enough to deal with that, and besides, he offered. 

Dipper shoves his face into the thankfully dry fabric of his lapels, gripping hard on the back of his shirt. Above him, he hears a low chuckle. Arms come up and around him, wrapping him tight in warmth until Dipper feels enveloped in his presence.

Slowly, Dipper breathes in again, then out. Repeating it in a rhythm, trying to keep it steady. 

Being in Bill’s arms smells like being in his wardrobe, only with extra Actual Bill. Slightly metallic and  a hint of his cologne, solid flesh filling out the fabric like a well-stuffed plush. Though one that’s a lot firmer, and moving slightly as he breathes. 

Clinging to Bill Cipher like this would be a death sentence, but fuck it, Dipper’s special. And it’s nice. Holding a person close, who wants Dipper to do it and holds him right back.

Against his back, a palm presses between his shoulderblades. Moving down his back, then up again. And between that and Bill, chest moving as he chuckles, and the steady beat of his heart. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand there. Or what Bill is thinking. But he’s not letting go. 

Eventually, Dipper feels himself relaxing. Tension drains out of tired limbs, leaving him looser in Bill’s grasp. 

Not all of it’s gone. But some. Knowing Bill’s here. Not dragging him around, or barking orders or - other stuff, just there in his arms. 

Another chuckle. Bill thumps his back twice, clearly having noticed.. Not that it’s hard, with Dipper going from ramrod-straight to nearly slumped. “Ha! Figures. Humans love this stuff!” 

Bill sounds particularly smug for figuring out a pretty base-level fact about people. If Dipper doesn’t roll his eyes, it’s only because he’s busy. 

It’s funny, because he’s pretty sure Bill isn’t all tense biceps and shoulders anymore either. 

They linger for a moment. There’s a silence that, for once, doesn’t seem like Bill needs to fill it - until there’s two pats on his back. “Better?”

Dipper sniffs. With his chin tucked on Bill’s shoulder, it almost feels that way. Given another five or ten or thirty minutes, he could maybe even believe it.

But Bill’s waiting for an answer.

Getting him one is a struggle. Dipper’s tongue feels sticky. The stubborn thing remains glued to the floor of his mouth no matter how he tries to get it moving. Swallowing doesn’t clear his throat from the block that’s settled in there, somewhere above his chest. 

Eventually, he manages, “Mh-hm.”

“Great!” Bill exclaims, arms rising up and away. He also steps back, clasping his hands together to rub them sinisterly. “‘Cause we got a lot more to do tonight. We haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

For a moment, Dipper wants to grab him again. Seize him by the arms and bring them back around and just-

He nods instead. 

This was the plan. Getting vengeance. They can’t chicken out three-quarters of the way through just because Dipper’s… he just had a moment, it’s whatever. 

When Bill takes him by the arm again, it’s not to grab and drag. Instead, he crooks his elbow, then places Dipper’s hand on the inside of it. And winks. 

“C’mon, smile, sapling!” He bumps Dipper with a hip. “Let’s make one hell of an entrance.”

Again, Dipper nods. Again, he lets Bill take the lead. His muscles scream in protest, unwilling to keep walking until he forces them to move. 

He follows a half-step behind as they tread the corridors. Eerily quiet ones now that the rest of the cult has rushed to obey the orders of their ‘god’. Unaware of what awaits them - or, considering everything, possibly terribly aware. 

Distantly, Dipper hopes that it’ll be quick. One and done and then they can leave…

Fat chance, though. Bill doesn’t want that. It’s not his style. 

He wants to make a goddamn spectacle.

Why did they have to come back here at all? Revenge is whatever, it didn’t have to be now. Not when he was this close to just. Forgetting some of this place. Or parts of it, the things that kept him up at night. With the cult out of sight and out of mind, it dulled the sharper edges, like how Bill poured that numbing liquid on his wrist so long ago.

The doors to the altar room are open. There’s a huddle of hunched figures, bundled in their crimson robes and bowed already. Lines of people hoping and waiting and muttering low, prayers of worship ringing distantly down the hall.

Dipper nearly backpedals, then takes a deep breath. Letting it out. 

Why is this happening. He could be sitting in his comfy chair right now, away from the cold underground walls and warmed by the fire, watching Bill ramble on about how ‘great’ he is, and maybe even finishing his drawing. Back in his room where it’s safe. 

But no. Dipper’s here again, just when he thought he could leave it behind.

His teeth hurt from how tightly they’re clenched. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, and a ball of taut frustration, tight in his chest. 

Getting through this is going to be like a sacrifice. All it takes is gritted teeth and determination. Not showing weakness, not even a single tear. 

Just hold on for the ride, and hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

Bill takes in the room with a sweeping look, chin lifted. He smirks. Instead of an announcement, he stalks straight through the open aisle formed between the rows of cultists. 

Guess this ‘special event’ doesn’t call for much ceremony. He smiles and waves, giving little idle comments to whatever’s unfortunate enough to catch his eye. He lands a solid kick on a cultist who inched too close for his liking, and cackles. 

Dipper feels the burn of dozens of eyes, laser focused on his back. They can’t be seen under the hoods, but it doesn’t stop them from reaching out. He hunches over, using Bill to cover some of the sightlines.

This could still be quick. Showy doesn’t mean extended or even that Bill has something truly awful in mind…

One quick glance at the look on his face shuts that idea down. The smile on Bill’s face is so sharp he could cut himself on it.

“Boy, if I had a nickel for every worthless piece of crap in this room - I’d have a ton of equally worthless metal discs!” Bill chortles again, nudging Dipper with his elbow. Possibly to get his attention. “Am I right?”

Dipper stares at the floor instead. 

A beat of silence. Bill mutters something, leading him towards the altar at the front of the room. 

One, two, three steps up to the dais. Dipper doesn’t need to look, he barely feels them. Like he’s walking on air. 

Bill pats his hand twice, then pries it off of his elbow. He has to do it finger by finger. The process takes him a while, since they keep latching back on. 

The altar surface hasn’t been cleaned. Guess nobody got around to the messy parts in his absence. Brownish-black clots lining the three sides of Bill’s image, carved into the rock. Thin trails leading into the recess, leading back to a misshapen pool at the front.

Someone did pick up after them, though. A little. 

Because the decorative ritual knife lies in the center of the pattern. Still silver-bright and clean.

Dipper traces a thumb down the raised line on his wrist, clutching it tight.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted assholes!” Bill’s voice echoes through the chamber like it was made for it. Maybe it was. “You’re all gathered here today to address some pretty shitty things you’ve been up to!” His tone turns coy, almost finger-wagging. “Gotta say I might have liked it! If you hadn’t picked the wrong friggin’ target.”

A soft muttering. A sound of discontent, even nervousness. 

That’s the first smart reaction Dipper’s seen from these people since they arrived. 

Some part of him is still surprised, though. Their ‘god’ is here. Shouldn’t that fill them with, like. Violent fervor? Vindication for their decades of worship, now that he’s finally arrived? That same intense energy, the cheering and shouting and excitement when a ceremony goes just…

Right. 

Considering what Bill’s done since showing up… Maybe Dipper’s not that surprised. It hasn’t exactly been what they expected.

Bill’s been talking. A tone common to most of his rambles, something something always watching, something something about ‘wrath’. Never quite saying why said wrath is arriving, since he’s a cryptic jerk about everything. 

A burst of blue light blooms, followed by a horrible, extended scream. Along with the sound of flames, a scramble of people trying to get away from the heat. Several other voices join the terror in a different kind of chorus, discordant as each person tries a different song at once. 

Dipper tries not to let that stick in his head. Think about anything else. Anywhere else.

Bill starts laughing, clapping as if he’s pulled off a fun magic trick. 

Maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. It could be - Dipper glances over his shoulder - 

And immediately averts his eyes. The smoke stings, and the smell of overcooked meat and carbon leaves him coughing. 

And not a single one of these idiots has fled. Nobody protests, or makes a comment about how he overcooked the barbecue, which would make Bill miffed and amused at the same time. Something that defuses his anger and gets him off this stupid track. 

The chorus grows in volume, settling on a single song. Several cultists have fallen to their knees, hands clasped in prayer.

Fuck, they're just-

Too much scripture. Too many lies. They don’t know what’s going on. Nobody’s ever told them, they never had a chance to figure it out. 

Even though Bill’s here in all his terror and… not quite all his power - no scripture could have prepared them for the real deal. 

If any of them had, they would have run long, long ago.

One voice speaks up. “My lord.” Quiet, hesitant. The girl’s voice. “I don’t think-”

“Ah ah ah!” When Bill speaks, it’s with a sneer in his tone. “Who said you could think? Much less talk back.”

What is he talking about? Bill loves that stuff - 

“Now there’s an idea,” Bill muses. His shoe taps the stone a few times. Then he snaps his fingers. “Hey, guys! Bring up our first demonstration of the night!”

Twin grunts sound from somewhere in the crowd. Dipper reels around, watching the guards from his sacrifice, grabbing the girl by the arms. 

Dipper mouth drops open - then he clicks it shut. 

“No, no, no,” Pleading, like that would work. Mascara is running down the girl’s face. He didn’t notice she was wearing any earlier. That’s forbidden here, a violation of the rules - “My lord, wait-”

“Ooh, you’re a mouthy one, aintcha?” Bill tuts, shaking his head. Despite his wry expression, there’s a hint of amusement. “Turns out I got just the ironic punishment for that! Kind of a what-comes-around-goes-around thing!!”

What?

With a jaunty whistle, Bill leans over Dipper to pick up the discarded knife. Metal scrapes against stone as he drags over the surface, a dramatic flourish.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. 

A twirl sends flashes of light off the edge. Bill toys with it a little more before testing the blade against thumb, and nods with pleasure. He grins, gesturing to the guards. “Hold her down and open that yap.”

The girl is shoved down to her knees. Dirty fingers shove against her jaw, into her mouth, until even with the struggling it’s pried open. The small pink tongue scoots to the back, a snail curling helplessly up in its broken shell.

Dipper  can feel his own, at the back of his throat. He knows the ache of having a jaw held open. The salt-warm of tears on cheeks, staring wide-eyed at a relentless force that won’t stop, even if you could speak, with shining sharp metal ready to remove that possibility.

An idea snaps into place, bright and sharp as the knife, and almost as cold.

All of this. Each and every horrible thing Bill’s done isn’t just to torment, because he’s never so simple as to have just one motive when he could have six, and he cares about what Dipper thinks. About what happened to him.

This is… revenge.

Bill’s doing this because he thinks that’s what Dipper wants. 

“Y’know, if I hadn’t thought of this first, I bet Pine Tree woulda personally requested it!” Bill taps the knife ons own cheek thoughtfully, then grins. “Say goodbye to your-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

The words echo against the walls, resonate around the cavern. Loud enough to cover up the wails, and stop Bill in his tracks.

Everyone goes still. Everything else has gone deadly, terribly silent. 

Dipper realizes he’s leaning forward, fists clenched. His throat feels rough and his own voice rings in his ears, but fuck it, at least it didn’t break and Bill has cut that shit out.

Bill turns. He straightens up and gives Dipper a look more puzzled than anything else, because he’s a goddamn fucking idiot. “Pine Tree?”

Instead of answers, Dipper just grunts as he storms forward. His jaw clenched so tight it hurts. 

Bill’s looking at him expectantly, but fuck him. He doesn’t deserve an answer, anyway. 

He should know better. 

With a low, thoughtful sound, Bill opens his mouth to say something. Before he gets a word out, Dipper slaps his hand with enough force to make even a demon let go. 

The blade skitters across the floor, going ‘ting’ against something in the background. 

Bill blinks twice. Then frowns, flexing his fingers to get sensation back. Rubbing them slowly, he turns fully away from the victim to face Dipper, head on.

It’s not a great look. The familiar smile has vanished, leaving something cool in its place.

And Dipper doesn’t care. 

A hot bright anger buoys him up above all the concerns, like he’s floating on a cushion of air. Beneath the rising fury all his worries look so small.

How dare Bill pull this. All of this, the ‘visit’, the tour. Bringing Dipper back here and bringing back things he didn’t want to remember. The screaming and fire and the things he’s done, all of them more and more wrong. And this huge, arrogant, total dipshit asshole -  

How dare he try doing that, and say Dipper would ask for it. 

“Excuse me?” Bill says. Not angry, exactly. But less than pleased.  He spreads his arms in an annoyed shrug. “Great you’re up and at ‘em, kid, but what’s the big deal? I was just about to-”

A shove doesn’t get Bill off balance - but it does get him to shut the hell up. He takes a half step back, surprise flickering back on his face. Dipper closes the space between them, fists held tight at his sides.

“Hey!” Bill holds his hands, palm up. Oh, now he’s annoyed. “What the hell, kid?”

“What the hell made you think this was a good idea?” Dipper snaps back. A sharp gesture at the victim - now staring, eyes wide - sends the burly cultists backing up and away in a nervous bulky shuffle.  “Just… this?”

“It’s ironic-”

“It’s evil.” Dipper insists. Louder than Bill’s voice, almost in a shout. 

For the first time in a long, long time, he’s not going to back down. Asking the hard questions and prying into the secrets of his god is what he does, damn it, and even though they tried to stop him years ago, well, Bill screwed up and brought it back.

Nobody else could get away with this. But Dipper can. 

“So what?” Bill rolls his eye.

So, he says. Just, ‘so what’. Like none of this is a big deal.

“So maybe you shouldn’t do evil things!” The argument sounds stupid even as he says it. Dipper swears and tries starting over.  “Or you should-”

“Uh, hello! Bill Cipher here, not sure who the hell you’re talking to,” He snorts, looking condescending as hell. “I get that you don’t wanna get your hands dirty - too squeamish, it’s whatever - but someone had to do something!”

“Nobody had to do any of this!” Dipper gestures at - everything, an awkward flail. “We didn’t even have to come back here!” 

“Oh no, no no, we definitely did.” Bill wags a chiding finger. Moving it back and forth, then tapping Dipper’s nose like a jackass. It sends a new surge of fury racing through his veins. “Like I’d ever pass up a chance for some chaos! Hell, it’s even justified this time, ain’t it?”

Punching Bill the second time isn’t as satisfying as the first. He only has like, half a foot of clearance and the bastard’s too tough to ever hurt. The return of surprise on Bill’s stupid face though - that’s great.

“It’s not. What are you even trying to do? Have some ‘fun’? Your version, which sucks.” Now that he’s started, Dipper can’t seem to stop. The words spring out before they ever pass through his brain, propelled by sheer anger. “You’re just an asshole. And- and a jerk and a moron and - and fuck, Bill, you’re not even a god. Just a dick.”

Bill’s lips firm into a line. Mouth screwed up, hands on hips; exasperated that he’s been called out with no great way to correct it. 

Somewhere in the distance, a series of gasps. Yes, it’s blasphemy. Totally heretical. Also it’s true.

It’s practically a scene out of that stupid shot. The plucky mortal, facing down the demon all dramatically, except real this time 

So what if Bill’s pissed off. The mortals that he’s had before probably all did this, at one point or another. They didn’t just roll over and do what he wanted because it was too hard to speak up No, they stood their ground. They stopped him.

Now that’s Dipper’s job.

“Huh!.” Bill smiles. One edged with irritation, with a flash of teeth like a minor threat. “That’s a pretty funny thing to say to the guy doing you a favor.”

He really thinks - how can he be so frustrating. 

“Stop acting like this is for me.” Jabbing a finger into Bill’s ribs, Dipper glares up at him.“This is all about you.” 

Bill’s lip curls. The lingering hint of smile evaporates. Now it’s all bare teeth. “Come again?”

“It is,” Dipper insists. “You wanted to come here. You made the plans, you wanted the stupid tour, and to have your stupid vengeance on people you’ve never even met.” He punctuates each point with another stab of index finger into ribs. “You wanted to have your little show. Not once did you ask me what I thought.”

“To be fair, kid,” Bill says, lilting like a teacher talking down to a little kid. “You weren’t exactly speaking up, were ya?”

That was a low blow. “Fuck you.”

“See! Total lack of constructive input!” Bill tuts. “What a shame.”

That smug, handsome face shows no signs of cracking. Dipper nearly stalks away in frustration - then reels back on Bill with another shove. One quick sidestep and he stumbles. Bill starts laughing, high and bright. 

Facing down a demon. A powerful one, strong enough to beat him into paste or light him  up like a match. 

Dipper should be scared. That’s the smart thing to do.

But instead of terror, there’s a weird electric energy, crackling in the air between them. Not Bill’s magic, though that’s probably part of it. Maybe just that he’s standing up against Bill Cipher and it’s - exciting, and energizing. Or at least giving him enough adrenaline that he doesn't have to think too hard. 

“Fine. You want my input? I’m telling you now.” Dipper speaks through gritted teeth. Getting in someone’s face is a game both of them can play. “You’ve done enough. Cut. It. Out.”

“Oh, please. That’s your big idea?. Just quit?” Bill scoffs. “You hardly know up from down half the time! Or what’s going on in your own head! Taking down the ol’ tormenter is a classic for a reason, sapling.” He spreads his hands wide, offering them palms up like a gift. Or an invisible enemy’s head. “It’s everything you ever wanted!” 

This time Dipper snorts. Clearly it isn’t. Obviously it isn’t. 

For some reason that sets Bill glaring, which in turn is - 

God, this idiot. Dipper runs a hand through his hair, letting out a tired laugh. “You have no idea what I want.”

If Bill knew what he wanted, they would have just stayed at the damn Fearamid. If he cared what Dipper was thinking he would have asked. If he read his mind to check, or just - anything, it’d be obvious. And he hasn’t. 

Because if he had the first goddamn inkling of what Dipper really dreamt of, lying in bed and feeling a pathetically desperate ache, he’d - 

React, somehow. Good or bad or weird, Dipper doesn't know, but he knows Bill wouldn’t keep a poker face for that.

And isn’t that ironic, really. Bill himself with no secrets from this one mortal, and Dipper the one with something hidden away. He’d never expect it.

“Then do it!” Bill snaps an arm out towards the crowd, sending cultists ducking in a rippling wave. “We’re right on center stage! Here’s the audience! You got some big plan up your sleeve? Nut up and go for it!”

Heat rises around them; Bill’s magic is leaking out. Dipper could burst into flames any moment now, by the mere whim of a powerful being, a near-god. 

 Dipper’s fingers flex. Shutting his eyes to block out Bill’s too-close face. Quelling the urge to do something amazingly stupid. 

“What is it you really want, Pine Tree?” Bill hisses, voice low. He leans in; a stupid attempt to intimidate that leaves him inches away. “Show me.”

Fuck it. 

Dipper seizes this stupid idiot awful asshole by the tie, ignores the way his expression shifts from irritation to confusion again - and hauls him in. 

His first thought is that Bill’s lips are very, very soft. The impact nearly clicked their teeth together, but with that cushioning it landed without major problems. He grabs at his shoulers, holds the back of his head, silently willing him to stay still for at least a moment.  

It doesn’t matter how Bill responds. So what if he shoves him away, or burns him to ashes, or takes back all the things he’s given him.

Totally worth it, if only because he surprised Bill for once. And he got this. 

He gets his moment. Two of them, actually. By the third, Dipper’s thoughts start catching up with him. Like how he has no idea what he’s doing with his lips, except mushing them up against Bill’s unresponsive ones. 

Honestly, Dipper’s probably kind of bad at this. Going into this without an exit strategy was not his best idea. 

Then a palm smacks against the small of his back, hauling him in close. That yellow eye flutters shut as Bill lets a soft ‘mh’ noise, tilting his head to meet him, cupping Dipper’s cheek.

Okay. Wow. 

One of them might not be good at this, but Bill can more than compensate.

Holding onto Bill’s shirt doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Where to put his hands, when all of Bill seems like a great place to touch. One slides around wherever it can, while his other hand twines fingers in Bill’s hair, running over and through it. Around his waist Bill tugs him as close as possible, like he’ll never let him escape. Which is probably the best plan he’s ever had. 

Infinite knowledge is great, he should have expected that. Should have guessed Bill knows what he’s doing, warm lips and teeth and his touch on Dipper’s back, briefly on his thigh. Slow motions that leave him shivering, because this is actually happening. 

Even over the kiss it’s a dizzying thought. Bill’s *into* this, and - how did -  Maybe there were hints he missed? Maybe Bill actually knew? Or maybe - There’s too much to process. 

And when a quick flicker of tongue darts out, Dipper lets out a little noise from the back of his throat. 

Then Bill - who is, still, inevitably, an asshole - pulls back. 

Dipper tries to drag him back in, but the bastard only laughs. How can someone look so stupidly smug with his hair all ruffled and his clothes messed up, it’s insane.

“Cripes, sapling.” Bill’s grin is wilder than usual, and equally wide. He gives Dipper a gentle shake, half-laughing. “You shoulda said something!”

“Um,” Dipper looks away. Embarrassment has started trickling in again. And it’s hard to think of a response with soft lips on his cheek, moving to his ear. “I dunno.”

“We have gotta,” Bill murmurs, in a very distracting way that involves planting kisses on Dipper’s neck between each word. “Work on your talking skills.”

There’s probably a retort for that. Unfortunately, most of Dipper’s brain is occupied. Whatever going to say vanishes in a puff of pink mist. 

And when Bill finally lets up, it’s while looking all too smug, and wiggling his eyebrows. Dipper sighs, cups that stupid smug face in both hands. Slowly, he strokes a thumb over an angular cheek.

Damn it. Bill was right. Dipper should have said something ages ago. Instead of this entire stupid awful mess, they could have figured this out and done actually fun things. Maybe they could have even kissed on the couch all evening, which is totally possible now and sounds fantastic.

Most of all - Dipper can’t believe this worked. That he can have this. 

The brief silence is nice, but it won’t last. Any second now, Bill’s going to make some really stupid comment, Dipper can feel it in his bones. If he thinks quick, maybe he can preempt the dumbest possible result. How-

Something goes ‘crack’ against the altar, just beside him, and Dipper jerks back. Hot wax splatters from the candle, which didn’t hit but still makes a tiny but spirited attempt to set his suit aflame. 

Bill rears up, snarling. The hold around Dipper’s waist goes painfully tight, shoving him hard enough to let out an involuntary ‘oof’. 

“Blasphemer! Heretic!” The shrill voice sounds tinny in the too-quiet room, and a little rough. Not surprising, since the owner had just been kneeling and crying recently. “How could you?”

“What are you-” Dipper starts, then tries to duck another flung candle. Bill snags it from the air; it melts in his grip like water. 

Bill’s slow turn towards the girl should cow her, or - at least get her to shut up. Dipper can’t see the expression on his face but there’s no way it’s a good one. It’s like she’s just not paying attention…

Then again - a quick check of the room confirms that nobody is. Not to Bill, at least. They’re all staring at… 

Dipper. 

“You…” With one trembling arm, the girl points at Dipper with furious accusation. “You pervert!” 

Huh. All the kissing must have really done a number on Dipper’s brain. It almost sounded like she said… 

Now the gears start grinding back to life, putting that phrase through the machinery and coming up with… “What?”

“You can’t even go one day without committing sacrilege!” She stomps her foot, mascara-streaked cheeks puffing out in frustration. “You’ve corrupted our god!” 

“What?” 

That’s the most ridiculous, misguided, ass-backward thing he’s- they can’t actually believe that crap. Right?

But in the room of ceremony, the crowd is stirring. Whispers grow and bubble. A slowly rising murmur, with brief pops of agreement.

Soon there are calls for Bill to come to his senses, cursing Dipper’s name and his horrible influence. Hands are wrung in lamentation for god himself taking in such an unworthy creature of dark purpose, this… 

Are they seriously calling him a ‘temptress’? What the hell? Anyway, the right word would be casanova, and that’s… really an overstatement. 

Dipper struggles for something to say - and for his balance, because Bill’s started laughing so hard he’s almost doubled over.

After years and years of total conformity and respect for their teachings - the cult finally rises to their feet in revolt, driven by furious purpose. 

Not at the incredible violence, though, oh no. Or the orders, or the chaotic dream god, or any of the other bullshit that they all went through. 

At him. 

All because of a freakin’ kiss where their stupid god was totally participating. 

Truth doesn’t matter, he supposes. Or what’s real, or right or wrong. What matters is that they didn’t like what they saw, and someone’s gotta take the blame.

Guess Dipper isn’t a ‘worthless’ acolyte. He makes a great scapegoat.

“Seriously? I just saved your lives.” Dipper steps forward, hands up. The only reason the next projectile doesn’t hit is because Bill’s put up a short wall of flame between them; it keeps the mob from advancing. “What the hell.”

“This is what I keep telling you! The hero crap is a dead end, sapling. No good deed goes unpunished.” Bill smacks him on the side, straightening up with a grin. He steps forward, cracking his knuckles. “No worries, though! Not my first rodeo with an unruly mob.”

“No.” Dipper blocks him, arm outstretched. A weak barrier at best, but one that makes Bill pause in his tracks. 

Bill glances over, one skeptical eyebrow raised. It’s true, he could take care of it. In a way. One with a police report writing ‘no survivors at the end.

And as much as they’re all assholes, it’s not really right. Not just morally, but because the punishment doesn’t fit. 

“It’s my vengeance.” Dipper insists. He tugs Bill’s arm, urging him back. “I’ll handle it.”

That gets a smile. Bill, eternal nightmare demon, spreads his arm over the crowd with a flourish, and steps aside, bowing deep. 

Okay. Wow. That worked, somehow. 

Maybe because Bill wants to see him in action. Possibly because he’s curious what Dipper will come up with. 

Or even, maybe, because Bill wants him to enjoy the result, and that’s possibly the weirdest reason of all. 

Standing in front of the crowd, fire alight between them - Dipper tries cracking his own knuckles, but they don’t pop. He just looks stupid, and his joints are weirdly sore now. 

“Sinner-” “Heretic-” “Just the worst, I always knew it-”

The voices drift over him; he barely hears their words. It barely takes effort to bring the magic up, thrumming through him. A net of warmth in his body, running through his veins. 

And if he channels it like this, and commands it like so, with all of Bill’s power behind it and his own will directing the flow, a form takes shape inside, weighty inside his chest. Ready to be let out at his word.

He built this curse. He planned every part, designed from the ground up. He knows precisely what it’ll do and - yeah, okay. This does feel pretty cool. Bill will probably even like it. 

Magic burning under his skin, Dipper takes a deep breath, and a second step forward - then lets the power out with a shout.

“Would you all just SHUT UP?”

A tidal wave of invisible energy rushes in the room, washing over the floor and dissolving into the air. For the second time, the room goes quiet. Eerily so, because the crowd still writhes in a formless mass. People throw their arms in the air, shake their fists. But except for the rustle of cloth and footsteps on rock, it’s a pretty noiseless riot.

Bill raises an eyebrow, and Dipper coughs into his fist. Okay, not really dramatic. Guess the concept takes a second to hit. 

It only takes a few seconds. First one person touches their face, another claps hands over their throat. A slow, near-silent panic ensues.

Dipper folds his arms, watching them all mouth words. One person is pulling at their tongue, another squishing their lips. Someone starts looking for paper and pen. They’ll find out how fun that is pretty soon. 

Not being able to talk isn’t so great, is it. Especially, say, for exactly as long as Dipper couldn’t.

See how they like it. 

“Aw, really? That’s barely anything!” Bill complains, obnoxious and loud. He waggles a hand, a so-so gesture. “Five outta ten, maybe.” 

“It was ironic.” Dipper protests. “Because, y’know.” He points at his own mouth, frowning when Bill snorts. He gets his hair ruffled for his efforts. “Points for style, sure, but what about suffering? This crap isn’t even permanent.”

Why does Bill have to talk all the goddamn time? Everyone heard - He runs a hand down his face, hissing through his teeth. 

“What? I’m just saying-”

Dipper seizes him by the tie, dragging him nearly face-to-face. “They didn’t know that.” 

Bill’s eye goes wide. For a long moment it’s locked with Dipper’s - then it darts away, looking absolutely anywhere else. His lips clamp tight as he finally, for at least a second, shuts the hell up. 

Dipper takes a long, long look at his face, the lines and the angles of it. He needs to remember this expression. Who knows if he’ll see it again. It might even be a first in history. 

Bill Cipher, demon and nearly-god, realizing he thoroughly put his foot in it. 

“Lord of Nightmares, huh,” Dipper says, quiet and thick with sarcasm. “A real master of psychological torment.” 

“Shut it.” Bill snaps, still unable to meet Dipper eye-to-eye. “Hardly an issue, a quick spell adjustment and we’re-”

“No, we’re going home.” Before any argument can start, Dipper shoves him towards the altar.  “Now.”

Dipper’s tired from casting the curse, and he’s tired from dealing with the memories. Tired of this place and the people in it. Revenge happened, it’s off the checklist, and he is so, so done with everything. Total waste of his day. 

Better get while the getting’s good. Before anyone gets any ‘fun’ ideas, and while Bill’s still deflated from his misstep. Dipper has maybe three minutes of being able to push him around, tops.

Shoulders rising, Bill bares his teeth - then mutters something under his breath, folding his arms over his chest. He’s in a full-blown sulk now, and his cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bill says, flicking his fingers. “I was done with this half an hour ago anyway.” With a huff, he stomps over to the altar.

What a liar. Bill would have continued, done more and worse, if someone hadn’t stopped him. This wouldn’t be half as easy if he wasn’t eager to put his fuckup behind him. 

Well, whatever works, works. Dipper rolls his eyes, tugging at his arm. With a sigh, Bill finally, grumpily, relinquishes his hand and Dipper takes it in his own, squeezing it gently.

Bill sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t protest. He rolls his eyes, as Dipper takes one look back. 

In the disarray of cursed cultists, no particular person stands out. A mass of red and gold, milling in confusion and fear. Not understanding what’s going - and probably not wanting to. 

There’s a lot he could say. If Bill were doing this, he’d have some snappy line ready to go, accompanied by a gore-filled finale of fireworks. Dipper’s different. He doesn’t have a plan in mind. Half the time he doesn’t know what to say, even when the situation isn’t completely fucked. 

Good thing there’s not much he wants to. 

Summoning the transport is easy. Simply touching the power is like drawing a breath, feeling the veil between worlds start to part. Dipper knows how to do it, going back to Bill’s realm is as easy as flicking a switch. 

“You know what? You’re all assholes.” Dipper says, just as the magic catches and he feels the world around them start to fade. “But you deserved a better god.”

The world flickers around them; it fades. Dipper keeps walking forward across nothingness. The dream dimension spins around them with its flickering images and aurora-like colors, the fragments of a subconscious mind.

Damn. Dipper’s aim is off. The Fearamid’s like, miles away. Either he’ll have to get Bill to do some space-manipulation, or prepare for a hell of a hike. 

That’ll have to wait, though. Behind him Bill mutters sulky, ego-soothing complaints, though not too loud. It’ll be a while before he’s back at full power, metaphorically speaking. 

A very fortunate circumstance, considering. Dipper’s reeling from what just happened. Adrenaline drains out of him, leaving him jittery and very, very tired. 

Away from the compound. He’ll never ever ever have to go back, nothing can make him. He’s out in another dimension, where he’s free.

And isn’t that the most messed up thing. That Dipper can stand on nothing in the middle of a dream realm, a dimension of insanity, and that helps him calm down. 

He just faced down a god. Sort of. 

He really did it. He can’t believe he did it, but somehow, in the moment. He couldn’t not do it, it was an impulse impossible to resist. The whole thing felt like… a knee-jerk reflex. An unused muscle kicking back into life under the electric shock of ‘Screw You Bill’. 

Just like those other guys, from so long ago. The braver, stronger ones who knew what they were doing - 

Maybe they didn’t really know, either. 

Dipper takes a steadying breath. He lets it out, and feels a knot of tension slowly release. 

He doesn’t know if he can live up to the birthmark, or even what it means. Another thing he’ll have to drag out of Bill, slowly and in pieces. But apparently, amazingly - he can do this. 

And he’ll have to, because holy shit, Dipper really gets it now. Somebody has to keep an eye on this demon, or hell knows what he’d get up to.

Looking back at Bill, still fuming, a sulking huff of breath out his nose. That handsome face is so annoyed, and it looks so, so good on him that Dipper wants to grab it again and kiss him stupid. For being stupid. 

Of all the mortals Bill could have been saddled with - 

God, Dipper’s glad it’s him.

Hopefully it’ll be a good few months before he needs to do that again, though. That metaphorical muscle friggin’ aches. 

“And what was with that parting shot, huh?” Bill’s voice finally rises back to its normal volume. He gives Dipper a haughty look. “I think I make a great god!”

There are so many things wrong with that, that - Dipper groans, stalking away across the dreamscape. No way he’s starting that conversation, it’ll take hours. 

What really sounds good is taking a shower, and collapsing on the couch to watch something brainless. Given some time to calm down and let the stress dissipate, he can handle Bill’s bullshit again. With a little encouragement, he might even get Bill to join him and they can - 

Mostly chill out. Maybe some other stuff. 

“What, you sulking?” No ground means no footsteps to warn Dipper when Bill pops up right next to him.  “Forget those idiots, kid. That’s all behind you! Let ‘em marinate in their misery like they deserve.” He rests a hand on his chest, self-important. “Just like I deserve at least three smooches for helping you get them theirs.”

Because he did such a great job of that. Dipper sets his mouth in a line, watching Bill grimace. Yeah. He knows what he did. 

“Whatever, you’ll get over it,” Bill says, bright. That ego bounces back like a rubber ball; the hard it lands the faster it comes back. He takes Dipper’s hand, lifting it to his face. “I happen to be a master manipulator.”

“No.” Dipper turns away again, forcing himself to frown. “I’m mad at you.” The words come out weaker than he’d like. 

“Not for long!” Bill gives him a rakish grin, and kisses the back of his hand.

Dipper ignores it. He’s a very strong and determined weird mark-bearer thing guy. Totally resistant to this demon’s terrible wiles. He is resolute as stone as Bill plants more kisses on the back of his hand, then works his way up his arm, to his shoulder and cheek. 

“Never letting you live that down,” Dipper mutters. These schmoozing attempts have no effect on him. He’s strong and brave and totally not melting a little into Bill’s arms. “You screwed up my revenge.” He adds, more annoyed.

“Ugh.” Bill's groan has a bit of embarrassment behind it. Just a twinge, but enough to make Dipper smile a bit himself. “Fine. Fine! I guess you need some recompense, whatever. I’m thinking…” Bill taps his chin, smirking. “Some kinda lip-based repayment plan. Whatd’ya say?”

Bill Cipher is a vile tempter, is what he is. Pulling Dipper’s strings like that, super easily. Damn it, he knew there’d be a downside to Bill figuring him out - 

Though admittedly - the upside is pretty great. 

Dipper pretends to think about it for a long second, watching Bill. The expectant look returns, his eye goes bright - and smiles. “I think we could make a deal.”

Welp. This is his life. Years and years of the cult, then kidnapped and dragged around and taken into the den of this absolutely ridiculous being. 

Fitting in back there was impossible, but. Dipper thinks it makes sense, a little bit. Between the mark and Bill himself, with his arm over Dipper’s shoulders and his heart beating fast -

He was a puzzle piece out of place. Part of the wrong picture, trying to be shoved in where he obviously didn’t fit. 

Being here, with Bill, feels… correct. Really good, too, in the way that a burn feels better under cold water, or a wound feels better all stitched up.

And deja-vu, almost. A sense that things are right. 

In the middle of terror and nightmares and chaos, Dipper’s always been part of the picture, in a way. 

He has a place where he belongs. 

“That’s my favorite mortal.” Bill grins, wide and wild, and swings Dipper up into his arms. “C’mon sapling. Let’s get you home.”

[isa-beenme]

Hello!! Do you think you could right a sort of enemies to lovers relationship with Azriel? Maybe where he and the reader get into a heated argument, and the bond snaps when the tension hits its peak? If this doesn’t inspire you, please don’t feel as though you have to accept my request! This is my first attempt at making a request, so I apologize if I did it incorrectly. Also, I wanted to note that your writing style is one of my favorites, and I hope you are proud of your work! That’s all, thank you for your time!!

THE SOOOOOOOOOONG

Listen to it please thank you

Loved your request, darling, it's actually much better when you send the whole story, I usually struggle when I try to think of a whole story alone (I swear I'm creative but it's hard to get things in your head out of nothing)

I try to be proud of my work as much as I can, thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

THIS WORK was sooooooo fun to do, I swear at some moment while I was writing this I laughed at my own story, super cool

I thought: "I'm gonna make this super serious" amd ended up with this, which is much better

This Is Love

Your family always meant everything to you. Being Rhysand's cousin meant you would be inserted in everything he did. Being his second in command meant you would be involved in every plan. And being all of that meant you would be part of his Inner Circle, which automatically involved you in everything they did together. From training, to family dinner and trips around the Courts for the meetings, you did all together. And you loved it. Again, your family meant everything to you, and spending time with them was on your top list of favorite things to do. I mean, when a certain Shadowsinger wasn't completely involved.

Working with Azriel was always fine, perfectly fine, actually. Rhysand often paired you up together to work because everything fell into place with the two of you. Your mind always seemed to think like one. But that teamwork only made itself present when the topic was your position towards the court and your job. Outside that, you both were a mess. Training with him was a dread, from him pinpointing each - non-existent - mistake, to you lashing yourself on him each time he made you angry, it's been more than 250 years of both of you trying to win one another in the training. It never happened.

Family dinner was also horrible since both of you had very different visions in every single topic someone started, not just that, somehow, no matter how many times you and Azriel changed seats with someone, it doesn't take a week until you find yourselves seated next to each other again. On top of that, you and he possess the ability to winnow, yet, Rhysand always thought it was necessary for you to winnow together. No matter how many times you said it wasn't necessary, Rhys only ignored you, the necessity of traveling with him making you hate your life just a little bit more.

But if spending time with your family was on your top favorite things to do, game night with Azriel was on your top things to make yourself miserable. It was a common scene for the rest of the Inner Circle to see you and him screaming at each other at some point. Sometimes one of you thought the other was cheating. Sometimes you started saying the other was winning too many times and should be taken out of the game. Sometimes it was the complete opposite, "if you lose so much, maybe you should step back and stop occupying space". Tonight it wasn't different, your favorite fight was ready to start as Azriel explained the rules to the new game.

Besides the usual crackling tension between you and Azriel, this night seemed to be at its worst peak. For weeks now, both of you seemed to be on the edge with one another, even in work, your usual camaraderie was replaced with sharp remarks and piercing glares. Everyone around the table exchanged puzzled looks, uncertain of what exactly had caused this escalating feud.

Azriel couldn't understand why every word from you grated on his nerves, nor could you fathom why Azriel's mere presence felt suffocating. The build-up of unresolved emotions and unspoken desires had been simmering for days, and now, it was about to reach its boiling point.

The Night Court's game night had started off innocently enough with your usual truth or drink game, something to light up tension (or build it, in your and Azriel's case), but as the evening wore on, the tension between you and Azriel became palpable as the Shadowsinger tried to introduce a new idea to the table. It began with a harmless disagreement over the rules of a card game, but it quickly escalated into a heated argument once the match started.

Azriel's patience was wearing thin as you challenged every decision he made during the game, the cards he dropped and the ones he chose, everything seemed horrible in your eyes. The other way around too, your matches weren't valid, you couldn't pick certain cards and no, it wasn't your turn yet. His usually calm demeanor was now strained, and he couldn't help but feel irritated by your persistent need to question him.

-I don't understand why you always have to question everything I do - Azriel snapped at some point, his shadows flickering around him as a testament to his growing frustration.

-Maybe if you didn't act like you knew everything, I wouldn't have to. "Boo, I'm Azriel and I don't let people play the game because I invented it and none of you understand how to play it" - You quickly shot back, their voice laced with sarcasm

The room fell silent, and your friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the mounting tension between the two of you. But there was no going back now; the floodgates had opened, and all the pent-up emotions were rushing to the surface.

-I don't act like I know everything, and I don't talk like that - Azriel retorted, his voice tight with anger - I just wish you'd stop acting like you have all the answers! Sometimes it is okay to listen to help because, guess what? I indeed invented the game and there's no way of you learning how to play it, if you don't listen to the rules!

-Well, forgive me for not blindly following you like everyone else. I'm not afraid to question things when they don't make sense! - Your eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as you shot back.

-And I'm not afraid to take action instead of endlessly debating every damn decision! - Azriel's temper flared, his wings twitching in agitation.

-I think what you're really good at is fucking my life! - Your family gasped at your words, shocked by the intensity.

-It's just a payback for every headache you give me every time you breathe near me - They quickly turned their heads to Azriel, equally shocked by his response.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed as if you were both about to explode. Your family exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to intervene in the escalating argument. But just as the situation reached its breaking point, a strange shift occurred. As Azriel locked eyes with you, an unexpected intensity replaced your anger. It was as if the universe itself had decided to step in, forcing you to confront the undeniable truth.

The room seemed to blur around you as you stood there, chests heaving from the heated exchange. The fight had reached its peak, and in that very moment, the mating bond snapped into place. The sudden connection was overwhelming, a rush of emotions and sensations that neither of you could comprehend. Your anger dissolved into confusion and shock as you felt an unexplainable pull towards each other.

Azriel's wings, once tense and defensive, now softened, as if beckoning every step you unknowingly took closer. Your guard came down as well, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your friends watched in astonishment as two adversaries stood there, seemingly lost in a world of their own. The room is filled with a charged silence, the kind that accompanies a revelation that changes everything. Even if none of them knew exactly what revelation was going on at that moment.

But as the realization set in, Rhysand and Feyre exchanged knowing smiles. It was no secret for them that you and Azriel had an underlying connection, a bond waiting to be acknowledged. They had witnessed the chemistry and unspoken feelings simmering between the two of you, and now, it seemed the universe had decided to intervene.

Your eyes met Azriel's once again, and this time, there was no irritation or hostility. Instead, there was an undeniable spark of understanding and attraction, a recognition of the emotions that you had been hiding from each other. Neither of you spoke a word, yet you communicated on a deeper level, the mating bond solidifying your connection at each passing second. It was as if all the walls you had built around your heart came crashing down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to him.

As the reality of the mating bond settled in, your heart raced with confusion and fear. You couldn't understand why fate would choose someone you had built such animosity towards to be your mate. Feeling overwhelmed and unable to face the truth, you turned around and ran, needing time and space to process the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Azriel, though taken aback and hurt by the sudden rejection, couldn't ignore the pull of the bond drawing him to you. With determination, he chased after your steps, his heart heavy with worry and longing. He caught up to you as you were getting closer to your room. Gently reaching out to touch your shoulder, you recoiled as if his touch burned.

-Please, let's talk - Azriel pleaded, his voice tinged with sadness - I never wanted to hurt you. The fights... They were a defense mechanism, a way to hide my own feelings and protect myself from the pain of loving someone who seemed to hate me. You started this, I just… Thought I should defend myself.

-But why you? Why did it have to be you? - You whispered, voice breaking with emotion. Azriel's eyes softened, and he took a step closer, his hand hovering near your face, yearning for the connection you both feared and desired.

-I wish I had an answer for that. All I know is that the bond doesn't choose who we love, it just binds us to our other half. And for some inexplicable reason, it chose us - He could see the pain in your eyes and knew that he needed to be honest, to show vulnerability despite his fears of rejection - The truth is, the more you fought me, the more I fell for you. Your fire, your strength, everything about you drew me in. But I was terrified of what it meant, so I pushed you away.

-I didn't know what to do with my feelings either - You admitted, opening a place in your heart that you swear to never look at again - I tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it only made things worse. Every fight, every argument, it was just a way to hide how much I… I wanted to be by your side. Everything was simple with them but you? You made me feel things and I didn't want it - Azriel's heart ached at your words, and he took a step closer, finally touching your cheek gently.

-We can figure this out together. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be here for you, to understand you, and for you to understand me - Tears finally spilled from your eyes, as you looked into Azriel's soulful gaze, feeling the sincerity of his words.

-It won't be easy, but maybe we can try - You gave in, hugging him tightly, filling the void in your soul that you ignored for so long.

You and Azriel knew that you had a journey ahead, to step down from the fights and finally accept the truth that maybe, just maybe, you both were meant to be. Even in disagreement you found a way to each other. Although you would definitely keep your provocations going and Azriel would stay at your feet for anything you did, that was your way of loving and for the first time you were fine knowing what tomorrow would bring.

------------------------------

[Post-Credit Scene]

The Inner Circle sat around the table, looking perplexed and bewildered after the explosive game night that had just taken place. None of them could quite wrap their heads around what had unfolded. Nestha glanced at Cassjan, who raised an eyebrow, silently communicating his own confusion. Feyre and Rhysand seemed to be the only ones who understood the situation, but none of them made a move to say something as they kept talking to each other in their minds.

-So, did anyone understand what just happened? I mean, they are usually weird around each other but… This weird? It's worrying - The general scratched his head and finally gathered the courage to say something.

-Beats me. The brute is right. But I have to admit, seeing them argue like that is always quite entertaining. It's the only reason I've been coming for the past centuries, honestly - Amren replied with a snarl, eyes rolling as she threw her cards on the table.

-Oh, for sure! It was like watching a drama unfold right in front of us every week. But I can't believe they just bolted like that. Do you think they're okay? - Mor inquired, a mix of amusement and worry kicking in.

-If I had to bet I would say they are killing each other - Cassian said, playing with the deck of cards.

-Or fucking - Nestha chimed in with a laugh - I mean, when I didn't accept the mating bond with Cassian I acted exactly like them. If you don't understand the feeling you might as well hurt the person you hold those feelings for - Everyone seemed to agree as the bets started to grow around the table.

-Knowing those two, they probably needed some time alone to sort things out. Maybe it's an understanding finally kicking in - Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief - The group exchanged curious glances, trying to understand their High Lord.

-Well, whatever it is, we can't say it was unimportant. That was probably the most explosive family game night we've ever had - Feyre couldn't help but add with a grin.

Just then, the door to the game room creaked open, and you walked in with Azriel by your side, hand in hand, with smiles on your faces. The Inner Circle's jaws dropped in disbelief as they took in the sight in front of them.

-What the...? How did you...? What? - Cassian sputtered, at a loss for words.

-You know, it's funny how things work out sometimes - Azriel looked around at their stunned faces and chuckled.

-Yeah, we had a little heart-to-heart and sorted some things out. Turns out, we had a lot of misunderstandings to clear up - You and Azriel smiled at each other, making the whole Inner Circle shocked.

-So, you two aren't going to be at each other's throats anymore? - Amren raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming.

-Oh, we definitely will - You said when you looked back at them, your head finding its way to Azriel's shoulder.

-Just not today - He said and kissed you head, hearing some gasps from the table.

-Are we witnessing a truce? - Mor whispered to the General, who just shuddered, as confused as her.

-Let's just say we have a newfound understanding of each other - Azriel replied, you and him sharing a knowing look.

-Well, that's a relief! We were starting to wonder if you two were going to start a war right here in the Night Court - Feyre laughed, reaching out for her mate's hand.

-Glad to see you've made up. Just... maybe tone it down during future game nights? - Rhysand smiled after clearly speaking mind to mind with the Shadowsinger.

-Okay, so… the rules of the game? - Nestha questioned, her cards still secured in her hands.

-It doesn't matter right now, you can choose it - Az said, making everyone turn their eyes to him. Shock covered every face in the room. Never, in their lives, do they think Azriel would give up on something. They turned their eyes to you, expecting some remark.

-Yeah, you guys can keep going - A wave of gasps and terrorized looks were exchanged between your family - I think Az might be hungry, aren't you?

-I might be. Will you make me something? - He asked, getting so close to you that your noses almost touched.

-It will be my pleasure - You said before dragging him towards the kitchen, not even noticing the mouths of the Inner Circle opened.

-Uh uh, no. I prefer the war. Tell them to come back and fight again, I don't like the way things worked - Mor leaned back in her chair, disbelief covering her posture.

-You know what? I think this interaction was more scary than the Cauldron - Amren said, finally giving up her cards as she threw them on the table.

-Come on, it can't be that bad, right? - All of the older members looked at Nestha with scared faces, even Rhysand, who knew exactly what happened between the two of you - Okay, apparently it is.

-What do we do now? - Feyre finally asked after silence filled the room.

-We hope that this Court doesn't crumble down - That was all that Rhysand said as he began separating the cards again, a whole new game starting that night.

[summerchlds]

I KNOW YOU

Neil Perry x gn! reader

Synopsis: In which you and Neil end up in a vintage photobooth.

An: Hello!! This is my first post on this account so I apologize if this sounds like shit😭 Also!! English is not my first language and I’ve never stepped foot into a Photo Booth so if I wrote something wrong then that’s on me🫡🫡

💌

When you two entered through the curtain and into the booth, You found it to be particularly small, barely big enough for the two of you to fit inside. It was kind of dark, the walls were maroon colored and the only thing there was in there was a built-in camera in the wall and a bench to sit down on so it was kind of empty (besides the scribbles and notes people had written down on the walls that the owners were too lazy to remove). You’ve both never seen or been in a Photo Booth before, not having a single clue on how it exactly worked, fearing that you’d accidentally break something.

“It’s quite cramped in here, isn’t it?” He teased softly, being fully aware of the amount of space you two had. You nodded, breathing out a faint ‘yeah’ under your breath. You tried to make yourself sit comfortably, but it was kind of hard when the side of your body was stuck glued beside his as your other half was against the wall.

Neil leaned down slightly.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked softly, his voice husky as he looked you up and down with a small smile. You once again nodded, not wanting to burden him. It was fine. Afterall, you couldn’t do anything about it. Neil turned his head back to the camera, looking clueless.

“Does it even work?” Neil asked as his brows furrowed.

“I hope so.” You responded, feeling hopeful. There was a button sticking out underneath the camera lens.

“I think this button starts the camera and countdown.” He said, unsure.

Neil reached slightly up to press it, unsure if it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, the lightbulb that hung above us, slowly lit up, triggering the timer countdown for the first picture. As the countdown went, You both realized that you had to act fast if you wanted the pictures to turn out good. You had no idea how many seconds you were given, could’ve been ten seconds or thirty if this machine was nice enough.

“What should we do?” You asked, a little panicky.

“Just smile!” He said quickly, leaning back a little against the wall. You took this opportunity to lean a little closer to the camera as you smiled nervously. You didn’t have that many high hopes for the first picture, just wanting the first picture to show you two smiling as a start. You posed awkwardly for a few seconds before the camera’s flash unexpectedly came on.

The bright flash blinded both of you, causing Neil and you to let out a small groan of discomfort as you both rubbed your eyes. Neil leaned back up beside you as he tried to blink away the spots in his vision, adjusting to the sudden change of light.

Now it was time to think of a new pose to do. Without thinking, you shifted yourself to lean your head towards him as you, again, smiled at the camera. You weren’t expecting for him to do the same though, but he did. Your heads linked together as you both smiled sweetly and the camera clicked once again.

You two pulled apart, feeling the warmthness of his cheek leave yours as you tried to figure out what pose you were going to do next. Neil seemed to have no problem with this whole thing, just freestyling everything. Maybe it was because you knew he would look good in any pose he chose to do.

You suggested to him that you two could make funny faces, just to humorize the photos. He didn’t say anything, let alone move as you got into your position, scrunching up your nose as you smiled mischievously. You awkwardly waited for the photo to be taken as you watched Neil from your peripheral vision. He turned his head towards you and just stayed there, watching you. His gaze seemed to burn a path through you.

You wanted to turn your head to face him but you’d have to wait until the picture would get taken.

When the flash finally covered the whole booth for just a split second before disappearing again, the light above you dimmed, signaling for you two to exit the booth, but you didn't, you stayed there as if you were expecting something more to happen. You turned your head immediately to see what was the problem. You were planning to ask him ‘why didn’t you pose?’ or ‘is there something on my face?’ but when you turned to him, you realized how close your faces were. And suddenly, your mind became blank. He stared down at you with a feeling of undeniable adoration in his brown eyes as he watched you almost hungrily. There was a tender, fond adoration flickering in his eyes, the way it often did in private moments like this. The warmth and affection in his expression made you feel vulnerable and cherized at the same time. His eyes seemed to take in every little detail, capturing it and piercing it into his mind, afraid to lose the memory of how you looked like, in case you two would in the future pull apart and never see each other again. His expression was soft and full of warmth, as if he found every little thing about you utterly mesmerizing.

“What?” You muttered quietly, already feeling yourself getting lost in his eyes. Oh how you could stare into them for hours on end.

“What?” Neil asked in return, his voice low and warm, tinged with a hint of amusement. In the midst of darkness, you could see a speck of light reflecting on his eyes from outside the curtain where the streetlight resided. You felt his breath from his open mouth hit your face as it made you realize how close your faces have gotten.

“May I kiss you?” He softly whispered against your lips, glancing down at them for a split second before returning his gaze up at you.

You opened your mouth, again and again to try and get something out but your voice had given up on you so you just nodded eagerly instead. He leaned down and closed his eyes, pressing his lips gently against yours. His hand travelled to your face, placing it on the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You reciprocated and held his cheek, your thumb grazing his sharp cheekbone. The kiss was short but sweet, only lasting a couple of seconds before he pulled away, exhaling ever so slightly as he looked breathlessly at you. You couldn’t help but let out a cheeky grin that spread over your red face, which caused Neil to laugh at you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You walked out of the booth as you watched Neil pick up the pictures that were printed out and examined them. He had a cheeky smile on his face as he looked down on them, making you curious.

“Let me see.” You said and he handed you the strip. Without saying anything, you took it from him and looked at it closely. There were four black & white photos of you two stacked on top of each other, doing various poses for each one. The first photo though, caught your eye. It looked fine at first, you saw yourself smiling and narrowed your eyes to Neil.

His mouth was pulled into a wide smile which showed off his gleaming teeth and dimples. He looked adorable. Though unbeknownst to you, you saw his hand positioned behind your head, creating a bunny ears gesture, making you look like a fool.

When you realized this, you playfully hit his arm as a form of payback. He pulled up his hand to caress the spot where you hit him at, pretending to look hurt as he couldn’t help holding in his laugh.

“I just couldn’t help myself, I had to!” He said between laughs.

You didn’t want to give in but eventually did, giggling along with him.

Besides, you knew you were going to keep these photos in your dorm as a memory, even if they didn’t turn out perfect, they were special.

(After all, no one but you and Neil would fully know what happened after the fourth photo was taken.)

[agi-ppangx]

💭when you find out you're pregnant with minho

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

word count: 622

tags: non!idol au, estabilished relationship, fluff

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mention of pee (it's nothing weird i promise, the reader is just taking a pregnancy test), a bit of crying, being scared of whatever is gonna come in the future, happy ending

author's note: hii guys, i hope youre having a nice day/night ‹3 today i offer you a soft minho drabble, hopefully you will like it !! totally not proofread lol anyway, feedback and reblogs highly appreciated 🫶🏽

part two | part three

minho returned home with a bag full of pregnancy tests and placed them on a counter in the kitchen. you got up from the kitchen chair to grab them and rushed to the bathroom. "you want me to go there with you, baby?" minho asked quietly, sensing your nervousness. "min, baby, i love you, but i don't want you to see me when i pee on a plastic stick," you responded, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room. minho chuckled at your words. "fine, i'll be here by the door in case you need me." you nodded and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

when you woke up in the morning, you felt that it was the day you should finally tell minho that your period was late. you were stressed for the past two months, you thought it was maybe because you were overworking yourself and it just caused your period not to show. you tried to relax for the past few weeks, but at this point you knew it wasn't just because you were overworked. you told him and his first impulse was to hug you and then go to the store for pregnancy tests. he seemed calm, like it wasn't a big deal. but inside, minho was terrified. you two didn't plan to start a family right now, you talked about it sometimes, but in your imagination it was supposed to happen much later. but apparently life wanted to surprise both of you.

when you finished and placed all three tests on the sink, you set a timer, then unlocked the door and quietly called minho. you sat by the bathtub, legs placed by your chest. your breathing was uneven, short, shallow breaths escaping your lungs. minho sat next to you, hugging you tightly and rubbing circles on your back with his hand. "how long do we have to wait?" he whispered. "around 15 minutes," you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. minho hummed to let you know he heard you and placed a soft kiss on your head. "what are we gonna do if i'm pregnant?" you asked suddenly, looking him in the eyes. you didn't cry, but minho could see you were scared. he thought about it for a while and then responded "if you are pregnant, everything's gonna be fine. i'll support you, whether you wanna keep it or not. but either way it'll be okay baby, i love you and i'm sure we can deal with it," minho said, his words causing you to tear up a little bit. you exhaled shakily, your eyes now focused on your hands fiddling with minho's hoodie. it was when the timer went out, signalling both of you that 15 minutes passed. you looked into each others' eyes at the same time. "you ready?" minho asked you and you nodded. he helped you get up and together you went to the sink to check the results. all three tests were positive. "i'm pregnant…" you whispered, tears starting to fall down your cheeks. minho hugged you once again, rocking you gently in his arms. when you calmed down a bit, you looked up at him and smiled. it was when minho teared up as well. "you're going to be a dad, baby," you whispered and kissed him deeply and slowly. when you pulled out, minho placed one more kiss on your nose. "does it mean you're gonna keep it?" he then asked, still quite unsure what you're planning on doing. you hesitated, but then whispered quietly "yeah". were you ready for parenthood? of course no. you were terrified, worried and nervous. but with minho by your side you knew it's gonna be okay.

[cheriiepies]

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, enemies to lovers

Note: This is my first fiction, and I know it is not perfect. But I will try to improve. Btw, big thanks for @papaya-twinks as she helped me with this fiction a lot!! SO THANK YOU POOKIE(((ＵωＵ｀ *)(* ´ＵωＵ))).

Since the karting days the relationship between you and Charles was sour. It felt like any opportunity for bonding or getting to know each other was filled with long arguments over stupid things, fights, battles (and stubborness)

It was a race weekend and you were walking in the paddock towards your team ready to do some media work and content for the fans with your *favorite* teammate, Charles. Those challenges you did for the youtube or instagram is always filled with passive aggresivness or extreme competition.

As you were reaching the Ferrari garage you heared a familiar voice calling you over:

-"Y/n! Charles! Here you guys are. I need to speak to you two , alone". Charles glanced at you briefly:

-"What did you do now?"

-"Well hello to you too, Charles. I am fine how are you? And for the record the last time we were called in his office was when you fucked our race up!"

"Oh, get over it. Not my problem that you cannot control a wheel". You rolled your eyes at that trying very hard to not bite back

They entered the office seeing a very serious Fred looking at them.

"I hope you guys know that I won't tolerate any crashes that happened between you because you were too stubborn to listen to your race engineers!"-he said his voice rising at the end as this was certeanly not a rare inCHident(got that?). "We have the ability to get the podium as the car is perfectly suited for this circuit. P3 and P4 are not a bad starting position. We have to get the most out of this opportunity. Understood?". Both of them agreed, trying to talk less as it would cause more arguments.

"I won't let you ruin my race again y/n" charles said as they were leaving the office for an interview that would start in 20 minutes. "Can say the same about you. You can not tolerate me being ahead of you. It seems to be hurting your ego. The only reason you can secure podiums is because of the team orders. " He could only chuckle at that finding the idea amusing. "Well, the reason is I am the better driver in this team, so you do as the orders say." "Fuck you Charles! You act like you are all that, when in reality, all you do is blame the car or me when something fucks your race up, but it is you. Maybe you should get your head out of your ass and realise that you are not as good?" Ypu knew he was a good driver. But you still liked pushing his buttons. Charles could only glare at you not wanting to say things he will regret later. It was just a silent walk after that as they all sat in their beloved places during the interview.

Timeskip: the race

-“Right, Y/N, we’re starting in P4, let’s see if we can optimise this position,” your engineer spoke calmly. You replied with a simple and calm ‘yes’, knowing fully well of your own motive. Beat Charles. He’d already been a right ass about having qualified P3, one spot ahead of you, by less than a tenth, and what you wanted? To wipe his filthy little smirk away.

And so the formation lap begun, your eyes fixed on the rear wing of your teammate’s car, watching as he drove round the circuit. Five lights. Out. Instantly, you tried, and failed, to overtake him, feeling the threat of the number four car behind you. “Fuck,” you hissed, pressing harder to get away from him, your eyes trained on Charles. Sure, the team HAD warned you two on how these constant fiery battles could end up costing you the win or points at the minimum, but you were not one to back down. And neither was Charles, apparently. After 40 laps the cars ahead of you were starting to pit. It was an easy overtake to p3 and charles p2. But you wanted more. So you tried to overtake Charles even if your race engineer told you not to, as it is not safe with the tyres and they did not want to risk anything. As you were trying to overtake the wheels touched and it sent the both of you out of the track ulitametly crashing each other.

"What the fuck was that!" Charles was rigtfully angry. It was the perfect moment to secure P2 or even get a P1. You both got out of the car. You wanted to apoligize for ruining his race.

"Hey, I am sorry it was an accident, I miscalucilated and- "shut the fuck up! You always do this, why couldn't you just listen?. And now we are both out of the race. Do you realise how dangerous your driving is? Maybe they were all right about you. You do not deserve your seat! It is a miracle you could even get out of F3 alive!" He kept going on about how undeserving you are of the seat. It hurt you more than you cared to admit. Even if you disliked Charles(or so you thought), his validation and approval was still something you craved. You admired him since the beggining of your F1 rookie season. You looked up at him trying to hide your tears- " I said sorry, mistakes happen. I hope you forgive me . I have to go". Charles felt guilty at his harsh words suddenly realising that you did not deserve all that shit. He wanted to apologize but you were already gone. He was zoning out while the reporters asked about the crash, replaying it on the screens. All he could think of is how sad you looked when he was lashing out on you. He did not see you all day, not on the paddock not,after the race. You where nowhere to be seen.

It was already late, he could not sleep. The guilt was eating Charles up, his harsh words replaying in his mind. The way you looked so sad. It bothered him a lot, he did not actually wanted to hurt your feelings, he wasn't thinking right saying those things. With out thinking much his worry carried him towards your hotel room. Charles slowly knocked on the door, not hearing anything he slowly opened it.

" y/n? Are you here? I am so sorry about what I said. I wasn't thi-". Charles stopped talking as soon as he saw you laying on your bed with red teary eyes. Hair disheveled, laying on your bed trying to wipe your cheeks. "Hey, hey. Are you crying because of today? " he instictively came closer to you, wanting to comfort you. "I am so sorry, I did not want to ruin your race! You were right about me , maybe I am a bad driver. You have all the rights to hate me"- you rambled, trying not to cry again. "I was mad and said things that weren't true. You are a great driver y/n even if I tell you otherwise. I was an asshole and it was unfair of me to say hurtful words like that. Accidents happen. And for the record, I do not hate you. " Not realising Charles was holding y/n close, hugging her, not wanting her to cry anymore. Charles denied his protectivness over y/n, though his actions spoke otherwise. It made her feel butterflies in her stomach even if she tried to deny it.

"I forgive you too. You had every right to be mad at me. And I do not hate you either. Not at all. " You suddenly felt shy at the position you were in. But he still kept you close, gently looking at you. There was something else happening at the way you looked at each other so softly. He slowly leaned in, giving you the chance to back away if you did not want this. But you both wanted this. His lips were soft and gentle as he held your cheek and carrased your hair lovingly. As you pulled away, he gently whispered, "I can never hate you."

[lorre-verie]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE your avatar modern a-z list and ur neteyam series! I was wondering if you took requests by any chance? like could you do something with aonung with fem reader maybe enemies to lovers? sorry if u dont!

no way, tysm for this! I haven't even put out anything specific saying ill do requests and the fact that you wanted to see more of my writing means so much to me 💚 tysm anon for giving me this chance, i hope it won't disappoint you! There was no specification so I hope me taking creative liberty with this was okay!

: ̗̀➛ “I hate you.” “Love you too.”

word count and approx. reading time: 2.5k words, 8 minutes?

pairings: ao’nung x fem! omaticayan! reader

notes: - reader is neteyam’s twin sister - when someone says something in english it’ll be in italics but not all italic dialogue is english it may just be for emphasising the word - I’m pretty sure the na’vi have their own curse words maybe - I tried to make it seem like you (the reader) is talking to..well..an audience, in the beginning. but i realised thats also you. so to seperate it, the indented text at the start is you talking to yourself.

warnings: kissing, literally making out, teasing, a lot of cussing at the start, neteyam being a protective brother (not a warning ik)

Meeting someone that is so stupidly annoying, so much that you want to kill them on the inside, is common. Its alright. No biggie. Happens to all of us.

But if the same person makes you feel all giddy inside with their stupid smile and their stupid face and their stupid hands on your shoulder and their stupid mouth, so giddy that you want to shut them up by kissing them, then you’re gonna wanna sit down for this, cause it happened to me, too. 

“Ao’nung, I swear on Eywa if you don’t actually help me with this right now I will pull out your hair and send my ikran after you, you piece of shit!” you practically shriek at him after being stranded by the ilu. 

It had been a month since you and your family first landed in Awa’atlu and started training with the metkayina.

After mastering your breathing, the next step of training consisted of the metkayina helping you and your siblings learn how to ride the creatures, but Ao’nung was being uncooperative as usual.

He didn’t adjust any part of your riding position, insisting that you were going to be fine and that your posture was already “perfect.”, to which you gave him a suspicious glare. And stupidly, you trsusted him. That ended up with you being stranded in the middle of the blue ocean, being practically blown away by the water, ilu leaving you in the dust. 

He laughed, his ilu gliding across the water with him on its back, going in your direction. “That was hilarious. You didn’t actually believe me when I said you were going to be fine, did you?” he chuckled, eyes silently judging your messed up and sopping wet hair. 

You glared at him, exhaling deeply. “You’re such an annoying bitch, you know that?” you mumbled under your breath, saying the word in english so he wouldn’t understand. He had been messing with you for weeks now, always laughing at you if you’d messed something up and never actually being helpful.

As you swam forward, water level at your shoulders, to get onto the back of his ilu, he extended his hand, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you took it. Once your hand near his, he reached forward and grabbed your forearm, pulling you up and leaning down into your face. 

“You know, for such a pretty face you have such a foul mouth.” he muttered with his deep voice, amused eyes searching your face for a reaction. He really didn’t know exactly what the word meant, but he definitely had a guess.

You were shocked, your hand held high up in the air. He was so strong that his grip on your wrist lifted up the rest of your body, yet it didn’t hurt you at all. Your waist was still submerged in the water,

Your eyes narrowed into slits, he thought he could get the best of you? Even though you were suspended in midair you still came up with a comeback. “Wish I could say the same.” you whispered in mock pity, bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. 

He rolled his eyes with an entertained smirk, lowering you back in the water. “Please, you wish you had my beautiful face.” he said as you mounted the back of his ilu, sitting directly behind him. You were about to respond with another insult when the ilu suddenly dove under the water, and quickly you shut your mouth and took a deep breath in so you wouldn’t pass out. 

It was all so sudden that you didn’t even realise what you just did; wrapped your arms around his abdomen, clutching it for dear life to avoid being thrown off the ilu for a second time. Once you came to your senses, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. 

Partly because you were just shocked, but also because you could feel his abs. Damn. He certainly was well built for his age, you thought to yourself before snapping out of your momentary daze. You quickly repositioned your hands to hold his shoulders instead, wanting to slap yourself in the face for the thought you just had. 

Sure, you had had a few...maybe romantic thoughts about Ao'nung, especially the first time you two met. He stalked up through the crowd with such confidence and assurance in himself that he caught your attention immediately, but your little love at first sight moment was quickly crushed when he and his friend Rotxo started making fun of your brother's tails, right in front of you.

He was strong, tall, confident, and the Olo'eyktan's eldest son. The whole package. Who wouldn’t like a guy like that? For you, it was much easier to resist, because he was a complete and total asshole to you and your family.

You were pretty sure he had the biggest, stupidest grin on his face right then and there because you knew that he knew that you could feel his muscles. He moved his left arm, placing a hand behind your thigh to secure your position on the ilu as he made a sharp turn around a rock in the water. You were going to have a seizure at this point.

Being Neteyam’s younger twin sister had its perks and definitely its downfalls; your older brother refusing to let you date anyone and side eyeing the hell out of any guy that dared to approach you. 

“Hey, it’s not like you’re going to mate with any of them now! You have the rest of your life for that!” he always said in defense whenever you would get mad at him for scaring a little crush away. 

Granted, he was definitely right. Little kid love wouldn’t have suited you and you probably would have broken up with your boyfriend in a week because you were bored. But then at least you would have gotten used to male attention that wasn’t your family. Well, except for that one time, but that was so long ago you had already forgotten the feeling. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks at his touch, stomach doing backflips. You took a hand off his shoulder to pinch his on your thigh, a silent warning since you couldn’t speak underwater, causing his hand to jut away and return to holding the rein at the front of the ilu. 

It wasn’t like this was his first time touching you, he’d placed his hand on your shoulder and flickered your forehead, sure. But this time felt different. It was more gentle. More caring. But you hated him. And he hated you. At least that's what you thought.

Your mind wandered to when you were lying in a shallow pool of water with Kiri, chatting away about how Awa'atlu had been for you both so far. "So, how's your little crush?" she smirked, twisting and playing with one of her little braids dangling over her face.

"Crush? I don't have a crush, Kiri." you rolled your eyes. "Are you kidding me??? What about that douchebag Ao'nung?" she stopped playing with her braid, eyes widened. She wasn't mocking you, she actually thought you had a crush on him.

"Ew. Barf. Why would I ever like him? I have taste, sister." you scoffed, pretending that you weren't considering it inside your head. He infuriated you, made you to want to slap the stupid cheshire grin that was constantly on his face.

But when he did keep his mouth shut, you couldn't help but admire his strength. And his better than average face. "I'm too good for him." you said, snapping out of your little daze thinking about him. Kiri raised her eyebrows in amusement, but you didn't notice.

At the end of the day, your family and Tonowari’s gathered for dinner, having a friendly chat about how things have been going lately. Your mother was doing well in Tsahìk training with Ronal, and your father had mastered riding a skimwing. Your ilu training was taken over by Tsireya who was MUCH more helpful than Ao’nung was, and everyone had made good progress. 

But the real elephant in the room? Lo’ak and Tsireya sitting in front of each other, always making shy eye contact as they ate, her giggling sometimes when she saw his ears turn purple. 

You felt sick to your stomach seeing the interaction. Ronal and your dad didn’t seem to notice, but Tonowari and your mom definitely did. Neytiri hid her smirk by continuing to eat, and Tonowari had a big smile on his face finding that his daughter had found someone (Toruk Makto’s second eldest son, no less!)

Ao’nung wasn’t there to witness this, cause apparently his dad sent him off to do some errands and he was running late. You shared a strained look with your sister Kiri, who made a fake throwing up expression. Neteyam and Tuk honestly couldn’t care less.

When Ao’nung finally arrived, he took the empty seat on Neteyam’s right; in front of you, even though there were 2 other vacant mats he could have sat on. Kiri broke the half amused half disgusted and half oblivious silence, with a “Lo’ak, please stop staring at Tsireya like that I’m literally about to projectile vomit all over the floor.” 

“Kiri, shut up!” he groaned, avoiding Tsireya’s gaze in embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s getting weird and I’m losing my appetite.” you commented, stating the truth but teasing your brother at the same time. By this point, both pairs of parents + Tuk decided to ignore you guys' conversation and talked about their own things. 

“You’re just jealous you never had anyone that liked you!” Lo’ak accused you, you gasping in fake hurt. “Well that’s not true.” Kiri said, shoving her mouth with more food. Your eyes widened, your head turned to look to your right, directly at your sister. Neteyam looked up at this. 

“Oh– right– uhm forget I said anything.” she played it off, temporarily forgetting that you both kept that a secret from your brothers. “Hey no nonononono, I wanna hear more about this guy!” Lo’ak said, eyes flickering between you and Kiri. Ao’nung and Neteyam were also listening intently. 

“I don’t think that’s really necessary.” you said nervously, looking at Neteyam whose eyes narrowed. “No. You will tell me.” your older brother spoke, as you gave him a pleading look. “You know you have to tell him sooner or later.” Kiri rolled her eyes as you slapped her arm. 

“Okay! Fine!” you sighed, an exasperated expression on your face. “It was Viawli! He confessed to me with some flowers and then we dated for a while. Behind Neteyam’s back.” you finished, burying your hands in your face. 

“Honestly you should’ve listened to how annoying she was when they dated. Oh Kiri he’s so sweet he got me flowers- Oh Kiri, he's so funny, Kiri he’s so handsom–” you slap her own hand around her mouth to stop her from talking, your entire face purple at this point. Lo’ak howled with laughter as Neteyam continued eating, expressionless, his annoyance and protective urge probably bubbling up and waiting to explode once your both were out of sight from your parents.

Your eyes met with Ao’nungs, he seemed very shocked at this news, but you decided to ignore it for now. You had more important things to deal with; Neteyam’s wrath.

After receiving a painful earful from your brother, you opted for a little walk along the beach, enjoying how the ocean looked after eclipse. The sand underneath your feet comforted you, and you liked kicking some of it into water just for fun. As you were doing so, you noticed someone who was waist deep into the water. Strange, you thought. Who would be swimming in the cold water at this hour??

You decided to get closer, and then you noticed the bun. It was Ao’nung. You waded in the water, the ripples from your movement alerting him that someone was near. He turned in your direction, making eye contact with you. 

You wanted to say something to mock him, but your resolve dissipated once you saw the look on his face. He looked like he had been deep in thought, something you’d never seen before. All you could do was wave hi. He nodded his head a little, indicating it was okay for you to be there. 

You waddled through the cold water, standing next to him. He continued staring into the horizon, and you pursed your lips in silence. This was kinda awkward, but you also didn’t want to ruin the moment. You two were so close, if you moved your left arm just a little you could hold his hand. 

Wait what? No! You weren’t supposed to be having these sorts of thoughts around him, he was supposed to be annoying! But you couldn’t help yourself, you looked down to see your hand and his, dangling lonely next to each other. You resisted the urge to take his hand, instead marvelling at the size difference. His hand was huge compared to yours. 

When you looked up, you noticed he was already staring right back at you. But instead of a smug smirk, he had a gentle smile on his face. A genuine smile. Your lips parted, confused as to what he was thinking. 

“So,” he finally said. “This ‘Vialli’ guy. Did he treat you nicely?” he asked, stopping looking at you and instead turning his gaze back to the horizon. “It’s Viawli. Not what I was expecting you to ask but alright. I mean he treated me really well when we dated–” you stopped suddenly, noticing how his ears twitched in annoyance when you said “we dated”.

Holy shit. Was he….jealous????? Your heart raced at this realisation, realising maybe you weren’t hallucinating earlier today and maybe he actually was touching you with care. You decided to test your theory, with a small grin on your face.

“He brought me tons of flowers, he was so sweet, he always complimented me and he always took me out on dates.” you pretended to gush about him, even though you’d already forgotten entirely what your little dates were like. 

“He was super good looking, I was so happy that I scored practically the most handsome guy in the clan–” you were interrupted when Ao’nung pulled you by your chin into a heavy kiss. Your eyes widened in shock, before you closed them and melted into the kiss as well.

Your teasing didn’t quite yield the results you expected, but it got you something even better. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands snaked around your waist to pull you even deeper into the kiss. 

The entire time your brain was just screaming at you, telling you to pull away. That it was wrong. He was supposed to be annoying. But your heart urged you, begged you to not let go of him.

You both pulled away at the same time for air, and you were stunned at what just happened. You just made out. With Ao’nung. And you enjoyed it. The world was truly going to end. 

He placed his finger under your chin once more, turning up your head so you’d look at him. He searched your eyes, your face, searching for any sign that you reciprocate his feelings. “I,” he hesitated, “I see you, Y/n.” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything for a while, just looking at him, and that made him concerned. He was about to back away when you finally placed your hand on his cheek gently. “Ao’nung. I see you.” 

His smile grew wide, and he leaned in. You thought he was about to kiss you again, but instead he put his mouth near your ear and mumbled, "I can treat you so much better than that skxawng ever could.", the huskiness of his voice making your knees buckle.

“You know you look ethereal in the night, right?” he said, as you both sat down on the sand with legs outstretched, hands holding. “Oh shut up, will you? It’s going to get weird.” you huff, feeling slightly embarrassed that you went from shouting at him and calling him a bitch to kissing him and holding hands in just one day. 

“It’s not weird. I don’t feel like anything’s weird.” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, “Why? Do I make you feel weird?” 

You pause, before taking your hand away from his and pinching them together. “I’m this close to throwing sand in your face.” you deadpan.

He squints, looking at your fingers. “They’re touching–” he realises what that means and he takes off running, you following closely behind him with a handful of sand. 

Eventually you catch up to him, being faster since you were much more agile than him on land. You tackle him from behind, pushing him down as he yelps. At this point you no longer have any more sand in your hands and you can’t bring yourself to take any, cause you’re too busy laughing and heaving.

You let him go and sit cross legged in front of him, smiling as he pulls himself up, panting for air. “I,” he breathes out, “I hate you so much–” You snicker, amused by how tired he is and place your hands on your cheeks. “Love you too, Ao.”

tysm for reading this, in case anyone has any requests and would be willing to give me a chance to fulfill them i'd be glad to! i had so much fun making this and i hope you liked it anon! reblogs and feedback are most most appreciated 💚

masterlist

[scekrex]

I know you've wrote that you got a bit of a writer's block, but I've got an idea for you for later on when you're up in power of creativity.

So, I just woke up from, I'm not sure, a night terror, maybe (might be the hallucinations that are getting to me after yesterday, wooohoo, vicious cycle of not sleeping), and it might sound absolutely weird, but it got me thinking and I came up with an idea for a prompt where the reader gets a night terror, maybe something related to his family before he died like his godson or goddaughter are being tormented by some invisible force in a pram, the reader walks over to it wanting to release the kiddo. When he does, the child does what every kid likes to do which is sort of climbing when you get them into your arms, they like to completely change their arms position and try to get on top of your head, so the kid does that and the reader could feel like a sharp pinch on the back of his neck. The child suddenly dissappeared and he cupped the place where he felt the pain before suddenly waking up in cold sweat to Adam trying to calm him down to the best of his, we all know not the best, abilities, but he's trying! So a cookie for him. They just simply cuddle in silence until everything is fine and it's completely up to you if you want to make the reader talk about whatever happened in his night terror or not. I'm just feeling like some angst with a happy ending, cause jesuuus that nightmare/night terror/sleep hallucination was foking wild 💀

That's how I looked after I woke up, srs

No more writers block, bitches, ur boy's back at it again whoop whoop, (where's my fucking hype train huh??/jk) I also hope you slept better this time <3

Night Terrors

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, night terrors (I guess)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Screams and cries of a little child filled your ears and once you were able to focus on your surroundings, your eyes caught your adorable little goddaughter who was sitting in her pram.

She was screaming, crying out your name as she seemed to hit something invisible to your eyes, she was desperately trying to get whatever it was off of her but still being so small she had no chance. Her face was red and her lungs must have hurt by how loudly she's been screaming, tears were running down her cheeks as she tried to get out of her pram - to no success.

You walked over to her, not quite understanding what was wrong with her - what was wrong with the situation. You had goosebumps all over your body and it was only then that you noticed you were shaking. Where that feeling came from you didn't know but what you did know was that you had to get to your goddaughter. The poor little thing needed to calm down, her body must have been exhausted already and she was still putting up a fight.

“Hey there, little princess,” your words sounded unreal in your own ears, as if they were muffled by cotton, but you continued talking to her as you reached to pick her up, “Now, now, pumpkin, I’m here now, you don't need to be afraid anymore.” The little girl looked at you with curious eyes as she made grabby hands at you. You finally lifted her out of her pram and rested her on your hip with one arm wrapped around her body, the other supporting her head. “See?” you smiled softly at the little girl. “You’re all safe now, I won't let anything happen to you, pumpkin,” you assured the little human as you wiped her tears from her cheeks.

She, however, seemed to have different plans, because while she did stop to scream and she did stop to kick around, she was now climbing up your body - with your hands supporting her obviously. “Whatcha doing?” you asked, irritated by her behavior. She had done that before, it was simply what toddlers did, but she never went further than your shoulder. This time though, she covered your face with her small body as she wrapped her arms and legs around your head tightly.

You tried to pull her away, tried to get the child off of you but to no avail. You called out for help, somebody, anybody, but neither were your calls answered nor did someone step in. She was making it hard for you to breathe and then you felt a sharp pain going through your body, its origin at your neck where your goddaughter’s little hands and mouth had just been, causing you to scream at the top of your lungs. What the fuck was that? Had the little girl bit you? You weren't sure, to be completely honest, you didn't know what was going on entirely.

Suddenly the weight of the child disappeared and when you tried to grab the body that had just been on top of your head, there was nothing but air, nothing unusual and most importantly not your goddaughter. Your hand moved to your neck instead, where the pain came from and once your hand touched the area, your eyes shot open and your body was sitting upright on a soft mattress.

Your heart was pumping fast, so fast that if you were still alive you surely would've had a stroke. Sweat was covering your entire body which caused you to shiver violently, you didn't know if it was because you were actually cold or because of the panic that was still screaming inside you.

Then there were hands on your body, one big, warm and so familiar feeling hand was located on your shoulder, the other cupped your cheek softly. Your head snapped to the side where a warm body was pressed against you and with wide eyes you looked at your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

The fog that had made it hard to see your surroundings disappeared and all of a sudden your mind was clear again, silent, but clear.

Adam was holding you, your head was resting against his chest and the tip of his feathers gently caressed your arm, his heartbeat was normal, calm even and it helped you to calm down as well. Your eyes that had been wide open only seconds ago were falling shut and you leaned into the warmth the brunette offered you. “There you are, babes,” he mumbled with his face buried in your hair, visibly relieved about that fact. “Thought you were dying,” you knew just as much as him that you wouldn't die that easily but it gave you some kind of fuzzy feeling to think that, to pretend that you could've died, to pretend that you were still human. Just for the moment.

“No I-” you interrupted yourself. You wanted to explain to him what had happened, that you hadn't been dying. But the words never left your lips, instead you simply shook your head and repeated, “No.” Adam placed a kiss on your head, “Good.”

That was a thing about Adam that you adored, well one of the many things. He never pressured you to talk, he always gave you time and space if needed, even if it was hard for the both of you to understand and handle. So you silently cuddled up against him, your arms were wrapped around his hips and your face was buried in his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. Oh his heartbeat, one of the few things in heaven that were able to calm you down in an instant. His calm breathing helped you too and you breathed with him in order to calm your body down.

“Sorry for waking you,” you mumbled against his skin, pressing your face even closer to his chest in embarrassment. “Shut up, babes,” he simply said. You knew he meant ‘It doesn't matter as long as you're safe and well’ and ‘I love you, stop apologizing for such nonsense’. So you did. You did shut up and continued to listen to his body, in the distance you heard a couple of birds singing but that was quickly tuned out by Adam who was humming something - probably one of the countless songs he and his band had written. But you enjoyed it, enjoyed him humming to you, him giving you the comfort you needed without questioning it.

Soon he slowly laid back down, pulling you down with him. Your head was still resting on his chest - your entire body was laying on top of him. “Try to catch some sleep babes, whatever fucked up demon was haunting you, I'll fight that bastard off for you if he tries again.” You chuckled softly at that but gave a quiet hum in agreement. You felt how his wings came up to wrap around your body to underline his words, he'd protect you.

He always did.

[v3nusxsky]

Hello! Love your work. Kinda embarrassed to make this request so that’s why it’s anonymous. 😅 could I get something with Larissa Weems x Lesso x reader? Like where they all in a relationship? Any kink is fine. I’d prefer if the reader was in their 20s if possible. I love these. Idk any kink in particular I think I’m too embarrassed to ask so anything is fine. Have a great day!

Who you belong too 18+

*Authors note~ combining two of my favourite characters for the first time I’m hella excited about this and the fact it couples both of my Agere fics I’m posting tonight as I open my requests is exciting*

Trigger warnings~ mommy and daddy kinks shifted dick, enchanted strap switch Larissa dom l sub orgasm denial edging toys praise degrading threesome exhibition kink

Prompt~see ask^^^^

+

Could I request a lady lesso x larissa weems × reader smut? Maybe larissa is visiting sfge and flirts with reader a little so lesso shows reader thier place with the help of larissa. You don't have to do it

&) - tried anon

P.S. love your writing

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Visiting the Nevermore Academy was one of Leonora’s favourite thing to do when she got free time. It was nice to see other realms and all of the different types of outcasts, however her main reason for visiting Nevermore was to visit her girlfriends Larissa and Nevermore’s potions teacher. But on todays visit she wasn’t expecting to stumble across you being such a brat towards Larissa. After all you all had certain rules set and by the sounds of what the cross blonde was ranting about you’d been breaking every single one recently. Leonora watched in amusement as the principal threatened to ring Leonora, only for her to clear her throat to announce her presence.

“N-Nora?” You stuttered in shock at her appearance, “I um I didnt “ you stumbled over trying to explain yourself. “You didnt what pet? Break every single rule I put in place? You know when I return home our darling Isa is in charge.” She purred causing Larissa to whimper in acknowledgment, “darling, I did try to explain that and I was just about to call you.”

“I know my precious girl, you can switch now darling, I’ll take care of the mischievous pet” was all the confirmation Larissa needed to slip into her subspace. Leonora loved how she could have both women at her feet with a simple look. “Now pet, kneel” the redhead demanded and you instantly knelt at her feet, you knew the consequences of ignoring a direct order off your girlfriend and that made you easily fall into submission. “I want both my toys in Larissa’s bed stripped down, Larissa on the bed and you slut will be on the floor.”

Both you and Larissa scrambled into position and waited for the tale tale signs of her cane to indicate she would be joining you. The red head entered the room bare save her strap on, the magic glow indicating she had enchanted it. “Larissa darling, where’s your toys?” The red head purred and immediately followed the directions to find what she wanted. A vibrator was attached to your clit and a dildo placed on the floor, “sit on it” was all she offered. You followed her instruction whimpering at the stretch. “You can’t cum, don’t disappoint me, I have more fun things to do.”

The vibrations started combating the cock stuck in your cunt as Larissa was presented with Leo’s strap. “You’ve been so good for me darling, daddy has a special treat for my sweet girl, be a doll and take it” was purred into the blondes neck with a nip to end to her pulse point. “Mommy” Larissa mewled her consent and all Leonora did was kiss her way down the blondes body, paying extra attention to her breasts, the like whine of need and displeasure at being denied it came from you. You love Larissa’s breasts, they are your favourite part of her body, so of course Leonora made sure to put on a show.

“Mommy” you whined desperately hoping this would all the teasing would be, your orgasm right there, if you could just have a little more. “No no no no no!” You whimpered as the vibrations stopped. The other two women seem to be ignoring your pathetic whimpering as they continued on with their task. The cry of pleasure Larissa let out when Leonora entered her had jealously clouding every sense you had. But you took your punishment no matter how hard it became not to cum, you wanted to be good for her, for them. Leonora knew how to fuck both of you well, to the point Larissa was crying out in ecstasy as she tumbled over the edge, squeezing the red heads shaft for all it had.

Lesso only stopped hammering into her cunt when she had fucked her load right up to the blondes cervix. “Isa, my love take a breather and shift that pretty pussy into a cock, we have a disobedient pet on our hands.” The red head immediately approached you with one simple command, “open” so she could have you suck her strap clean while you moaned over the taste of your other girlfriends juices.

You aren’t quite sure how it happened but you ended up on your hands and knees, Larissa boneless on the bed, cock straining for attention while Lesso was stroking her strap from behind you. “Mommy” you whimpered to a blissed out Larissa, “daddy” you whined feeling the red head teasing your dripping folds. “Pathetic whore whining to mommy when your both daddy’s toys really” she teased knowing that Larissa tended to lean towards submission. With a quick snap of her hips she fully sheathed herself Into your awaiting cunt. You tried to cry out only to be silenced by Larissa’s cock being forced into your agape mouth.

You had no choice but to take the brutal assault from both women the sinful sounds of your wetness, skin meeting skin and gagging filled the room. Larissa’s whimpering of needy with slight over stimulation while Leonora panted with the effort of pounding into your tight hole. “Oh fuck Leo, her tight warm throat is taking me so well, thank you for sharing the whore with me” Larissa whimpered out only for Leonora to respond with a harsh smack to your ass, “taking our cocks so well, such a good little cockslut, just a dolly for mommy and daddy to use isn’t that right?” Lesso teased knowing damn well you couldn’t answer but the way your walls were clamping around her she knew you were close. “Don’t cum till we’ve filled you up with our seed, you’d look so beautiful all round and full with our baby.”

Larissa was first to let go, unable to hold it any longer, she couldn’t help but paint your throat begging Leonora to paint your slutty cunt with her. That was all it took for Leo to roughly grab your hair and tug it backwards as she filled you with her impressive load. “Cum doll, cum for daddy!” Larissa decided to help and snuck her hand down to your clit rubbing tight and fast circles causing you to cry out as you came. You came so hard in fact you squirted like a water fountain you’d see in a park.

Only when Leonora slipped from your core she saw how it leaked with her did she scoop it up with her fingers and fuck it back in, “do not waste it pet” was her final warning as Larissa scurried to get a warm wash cloth and some snacks and fresh sheets for you all. Once you were all less sticky and had some water and something to eat did you all settle in Larissa’s bed, the blonde on your left and the red head on your right as you snuggled and basked in each others body heat. “A drop in visit Nora?” You mumbled only to be hushed be Leonora, “missed my girls that’s all.” You truly were lucky to have these women in your life.

Tag list~ @farahtissaiamyloves @i-write-sometimes-maybe @blu3berrykiss3s

[oletus-manors-log]

⚰️ ah !! i noticed it says we're still allowed to send you letters , still . if not then disregard this with my apologies ! if it is alright , could i request a norton campbell x reader ? i was thinking of something akin to taking care of each other after a match . it can be a small drabble or short story preferably , if that is alright . your writing is something i only recently stumbled upon , and i think it is incredible ! you are very talented , and i am wishing you the best !! thank you for reading , take care , observer !

OBSERVER'S NOTE:

" Hello, and yes, I'm still open to receiving letters (requests). Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong (unless you were one of my mutuals, in case... I do apologize for the potential hurt I end up causing /lh).

The request with Norton is so cute though- the idea of the prospector and his s/o taking care of each other after a match and especially against a hard one where the two won? Oh, it's so cute. I do hope this lives up to your expectation, even if it took me ages to get to this (also I kept this for too long because your words made my weeks because it's been stressful).

Again, I hope you enjoy this drabble! I enjoyed writing this a little too much, haha. "

Wounded Afterthought

It was a rare sight to see Norton be with someone like this, and especially with the mere thought of him being worried about another person after a tough match. People had assumed that he would simply ignore them, just like what he did to everyone else.

However, the same cannot be said for those that knew him well.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly as he patched them up, his eyes focused onto the scabs and scratches they got. They went up against Polun (from what he heard), so he knew that it had went rough. He could hardly believe that they had a tie with how difficult the triplets were in their streak.

... The only saving grace, however, was that it had been Arms Factory and there were more competent survivors that made sure to keep the team together.

Feeling a gloved hand on his shoulder, he turned his head to you, who simply shook your head. Ah. He must've looked terrifying, hm?

"I'm fine, Norton," he heard you answer, the feeling of the weight of your hand leaving as you placed it on your lap. Your attire had been torn, but it was better than last time.

Good, you aren't too heavily injured, he mused, sighing. "Quartz, you know that I'm doing this out of worry. Polun is a hard one to deal with, let alone escape against with the team you were with."

There goes an endearing nickname he called you— Quartz. He calls you something else, however, but that was the most frequent he'd choose. Unknowingly, of course.

"I know that. However, everyone wasn't as terrible against him, Norton," you reasoned, raising your left hand to gently cup his. Your gloved thumb traced over his cheek, and although he didn't want to show he liked it, you two could see him lean over involuntarily.

"After all, if they were, I wouldn't be here in your arms now, would I?"

Norton couldn't find an answer to that.

It was, unfortunately, true. If you had been hurt, he wouldn't have you in his grasp— he would've had you under Emily's care. And yet here you are, bandaged up, clothes torn, but still alive.

He couldn't help but sigh and bury his head on the crook of your neck, closing his eyes right after. He let go of you to simply adjust the position of his arms, wrapping it around your body to keep you close to him.

He wouldn't admit it, of course, but you can be quite stubborn for a priest. Not that he particularly cares— to him, what mattered was your safety, not your occupation.

... That, and unlike that Priestess, you rely on your own wits and snap decision to save you from being chaired.

Perhaps it's why he is so protective of you, and yet he simply backs off when you prove him wrong. After all, how could he when you both knew that you were right?

"... Maybe not. But I'd still like to make sure you're not in danger, if I can help it," he admitted, making you laugh at his own concern. He would normally grunt when someone else does it, but he didn't have the heart to do it to you.

You, a priest, who have left your past beliefs to find faith in a different God.

"Dear, with you on my side, I'll never be in danger. I can promise you that."

And for a mere moment, Norton knew those words rang true than the ones written in scripture.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[justsomekpopstuff]

ateez as d&d characters

NOTE: Remember, these are just my opinion and how I would classify them in D&D. You can have your own perspective, just don't be a hater about it. I also know that my D&D knowledge isn't perfect. Don't judge me.

current masterlist | fic recs

Party/Campaign Concept: You never know what, or who, you will find out on the open seas. After spending his early years learning the ways of piracy and justice, Captain of of The Silver Light, Hongjoong, works to assemble a crew of trusted companions to join him on the high seas for adventure, anarchy, and retribution to those who abuse their power. After traveling the world, he found outcasts, rebels, and other like-minded individuals who were shunned to the outskirts of society because they did not fit the mold of "proper" society. Together, this ragtag band of pirates sail across oceans, assisting with an oath of justice, to bring justice, liberation, and adventure to those in need of it most - but, they have to find each other first!

Hongjoong: Human Paladin

Hongjoong doesn’t remember most of his early years. He did his best to block them out as much as possible. The point where things began to turn around for him was the day he ran. Still a child, barely alive, tired and hungry, he ran through the streets of his harbor town, hoping beyond all hope that he could find a way out. He somehow managed to stow away on a ship, not realizing that that ship was the property of one of the most fearsome pirates to ever sail the ocean. At that point, all Hongjoong cared about was that he no longer had to return to the life he ran from. Hongjoong was discovered by the pirates a few days into their journey into open waters when one of the sailors found him rummaging through the pantry for food. Despite their notorious reputation for pillaging and other crimes, the pirates ended up taking Hongjoong under their wing, showing him that sometimes you have to cause a little anarchy in order to do some good. The captain of the crew treated Hongjoong like their own son, showing him what it meant to lead a crew and all of the skills it took to be feared by those in power, and beloved by those in need. No matter how many places they visited, their goal always remained the same - only take from those who have plenty, and give to those who have none (and maybe keep some to yourself just for fun). Hongjoong took every lesson to heart, forming a strong sense of justice and a desire to be a positive force to be reckoned with. When he eventually came of age, Hongjoong left the crew to build one of his own - one that would take on the mantle of justice and retribution against those who abuse their power. The first period of being on his own was harsh. Being the captain of a crew of one was not exactly the most rewarding work he had encountered, even on the ship he had managed to steal from a royal navy and redesign to his heart's delight. But slowly, as he took on more small jobs, stealing from the rich rulers of cities to give back to those in need, he garnered a reputation that would follow him everywhere he went. His stories began to spread like wildfire amongst the towns he visited, leading to him gaining the title of “The Charitable Pirate King”. His knack for chaos-creating, anarchy, and justice would end up reaching the ears and hearts of many, including those who would eventually become his crew.

Seonghwa: Half-Elf Warlock

All Seonghwa knew was that he was found on the front steps of an orphanage in a harbor town with a note stating only his name. He was taken in by the workers of the orphanage, but just because he had shelter does not mean that everything was fine. The conditions of the orphanage were destitute at best, and all the other children were regularly ignored by the workers. Even as a young child, he took it upon himself to care for the other children and the house they occupied - it was the only thing he had control over, and he was going to control it. That is when a plague swept over the harbor town, hitting the orphanage especially hard due to the harsh conditions. Seonghwa had his hands full taking care of all of his sick siblings, trying his best to provide them with the care that the real workers refused to provide them. One of the children, barely three, was much worse off than some of the others. Seonghwa regularly prayed to any deity he could think of, begging for the little one to be spared. One entity, one of healing and light, heard his pleas and showed themselves before Seonghwa, asking him if he would really do anything to cure the child. Seonghwa replied “yes” without hesitation, and so the entity bestowed powers of light and healing upon him, giving him the chance to heal the child. From then on, Seonghwa never had to worry about the little ones anymore, contracted to an oath of healing. As soon as he came of age, the workers kicked Seonghwa out of the orphanage, forcing him to take on multiple hard labor jobs just to keep himself afloat. That was, until, he heard rumors of a lone sailor, one who had taken the seven seas by storm - a pirate king in the making, “The Charitable Pirate King”. One day, the up and coming pirate king pulled into the harbor, parting the crowds as he made his way through the town. The captain approached Seonghwa, asking him his name. The captain introduced himself as Hongjoong, and reported that he had heard tell of someone in the village who had the power of light and healing. Seonghwa looked at the young captain, shocked, knowing that he was the person that Hongjoong was talking about. Seonghwa confessed to being the one with such powers, showing the light glowing from his palms that never seemed to dim. Hongjoong, seeing such potential in Seonghwa, offered him freedom - a place on his crew as his second in command. Seonghwa knew he had nothing left to lose, leaving the only place he’s ever known to embark on a new adventure aboard the Silver Light.

Yunho: Human Bard

Yunho grew up in a very loving home. The only challenge was that both his parents were forced to work to keep them afloat, leaving Yunho in charge of raising his younger brother. Yunho taught himself how to play the lute, using music and stories to keep himself and his brother entertained. Yunho quickly learned how to spin a tale full of fantasy and adventure. It was all they had besides each other, even though they knew that their parents loved them - until they didn’t come home. The boys never found out what had happened to their parents, but they knew that as long as they had each other, things would be okay. Because they were still young, Yunho took to sharing his music and stories on the streets in the hopes of earning money to keep them going. Yunho packed up what they had, and with his brother they began to travel from town to town, continuing to try and pick up some more money as they moved. They finally reached the coast, now well into their early adulthood, still sharing stories and music where they could without being run out by soldiers. One night, as they wandered the streets for somewhere to sleep, a kindly baker invited them in, taking pity on them. The baker provided them with food, allowing them to sleep inside the shop for as long as they needed. That was the safe place that Yunho and his brother needed to start over. Yunho’s brother began to work for the baker as payment for their kindness as Yunho continued his storytelling. That was, until, one day he ran into two other men while heading to his usual storytelling spot. The two men were scouring a map with intensity, seemingly trying to figure out where exactly they were. Yunho stopped to help them, before recognizing one of them - "The Charitable Pirate King", Hongjoong. For Yunho’s kindness, the captain offered Yunho a position in his crew. Yunho was initially hesitant, not wanting to leave his brother behind, which Hongjoong sensed. Hongjoong let Yunho know that his offer would remain open until the next dawn and walked away. Yunho scurried back to the bakery, desperate to speak with his brother. As soon as Yunho mentioned the offer, his brother immediately told him to take it - Yunho couldn’t spend the rest of his life looking after him, and he would be okay working with the baker. He told Yunho that he could always visit if he needed to, but that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity - he shouldn’t miss it. Late that night, Yunho left his brother to join Hongjoong on his adventures on the Silver Light. This is where he would eventually meet his best friend, Mingi, and become the light of inspiration and encouragement for the crew. His stories and music would always bring a lighthearted air to the others, one that would keep them going through their darkest challenges.

Yeosang: Half-Elf Rogue

Yeosang had no memory of his parents, who happened to be elven and human royalty. There were many, though, who were outraged by Yeosang's birth, stating that a half-human half-elf was blasphemous. One such person was his father, the elven prince’s royal advisor, who stole Yeosang in the dead of night, abandoning him where Yeosang would never be found - a large human village far outside their borders, whose street urchins took pity on him and did their best to keep him alive. As he grew, they taught him the ins and outs of survival on the street, from pickpocketing to various scams. His quiet demeanor and innocent-looking face kept him out of trouble while he snuck around to survive. It would be his sneaking around that would lead him to Wooyoung. One day, an adolescent Yeosang was wandering the alleyways a village, trying to lay low after his most recent pickpocketing spree when he heard a commotion from the other side of the alley - soldiers, clearly chasing after someone. Yeosang went to the end of the alley, laying in wait before a figure flashed in his view. He grabbed the figure, yanking them into the alley and covering their mouth as the soldiers rushed by. That figure was Wooyoung, a local troublemaker that Yeosang had heard about. To “thank” Yeosang for saving him, Wooyoung swore allegiance to Yeosang, refusing to leave his side (much to Yeosang’s dismay). However, Yeosang managed to find use for Wooyoung - he was now the (very loud) distraction to Yeosang’s heists. Together, they were a formidable pairing, managing to pull off even the most difficult of capers. Fully grown, Yeosang and Wooyoung became notable names in the thievery game - until one day, when they picked the wrong target. Charging through the streets of a coastal city, they scoured everywhere they could for a place to hide from the kingdom’s soldiers. They came across a menacing looking ship and raced aboard, finding a place to hide amongst the cargo on the deck. When they heard the soldiers leave, they stood up, only to find three men staring back at them - Seonghwa, Yunho, and “The Charitable Pirate King” Hongjoong. Fearing the worst, Wooyoung immediately began to spin a tale about how they got there, while Yeosang looked for an escape route - until Hongjoong began to laugh. The notorious captain let the two of them know that he had heard tell of their skills and heists, and offered the two of them a place on their crew. Knowing they had nothing left to lose, Yeosang and Wooyoung agreed, finally in a place where their skills could be used for the good of others.

San: Half-Orc Barbarian

San was actually raised in a very loving home - parents who adored him and cared for him, and an older sister who taught him the ways of the world. They lived mostly isolated on a farm, selling what they grew to the local villages. They were beloved by the people they sold to, and they always commented on what a lovely family they made. However, there were some in society that saw half-orcs as inferior. One day, as the family was tending to the farm, some strangers came begging for food and shelter. Because of their kind natures, San’s parents took the strangers in, not realizing that those strangers would be their undoing. San and his sister do not remember much of what happened next - all they remember is fire, blood, and suddenly only having each other as family. That was the day that would haunt San forever. Many years later, a now grown San was sitting at the bar of his sister’s tavern. She had made a name for herself, using the hidden inheritance their parents had saved for them to build the tavern that would keep herself and San alive and safe. He sat at the bar, nursing an ale that his sister had poured for him, when a group of already drunken thieves barged in. They instantly became a nuisance, harassing every other patron they came across. San could feel his temper beginning to boil at their antics. It wasn’t until they began harassing his sister, the most lewd and awful comments escaping their foul mouths that San snapped. He launched himself from his seat, charging at the group with force. Despite his powerful strength, San quickly found himself overpowered by this drunken group. That was when a group of strangers joined in the fray, beginning their attacks against the drunken thieves with ease. The unconscious thieves were soon thrown out of the tavern, leaving them to the constables for the night. San went to thank the group, the leader introducing himself as Hongjoong, “The Charitable Pirate King”. San had heard whispers of this crew’s adventures from some of the other patrons, but he admitted to the crew that he thought they were just a myth. The crew laughed, joking with San to not tell anyone - they had a reputation to upkeep after all. San’s sister thanked the crew profusely for helping and keeping her tavern safe, offering them a reward for their services. They declined any reward, but turned to San and offered him a spot in their crew, stating they could use his strength. San’s sister encouraged him to go, knowing that he was meant for so much more than just being a tavern bouncer. San left, promising his sister to send money and to visit often, before setting off with the crew of the Silver Light. There, they presented him with the weapon that would be his crowning jewel - a large battle hammer that only he could wield. San could use his passion and his strength to continue to fight for those who needed it, knowing he always had someone else to watch his back. 

Mingi: Human Druid

Mingi grew up in near isolation, despite being born into a very deeply connected faction of druids. He was born on an island far away from any mainland, where the whole population lived in connection to the island nature and all its creatures. Despite being collectivistic, with every child raised together as a group with the same naturalistic magic, Mingi was always an outcast. It did not help that as he grew, he grew to be tall and broad, very different from all of the others. This led to him being teased and ousted, even though Mingi was an incredibly kind and gentle soul. And so, Mingi regularly found himself alone. One day, a now grown Mingi was sitting on the beach by himself, taking time to meditate to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. He was feeling at peace until he heard some of the others giggling, beginning to taunt him for his “scary” looks and the fact that he was all alone. Mingi did his best to ignore them, but they came closer, continuing to taunt him. Mingi began to feel his emotions taking over, the magic coursing through his body becoming too overwhelming to handle. He started to lose control, and he bolted for the water with the others chasing after him, shifting into his wild shape as he dove into the waves - a large, intimidating-looking whale shark. Despite being entirely harmless, the size and look of his whale shark form scared away those who taunted him, finally leaving him alone again. Mingi swam off, knowing that there was no longer a point in returning home - he wasn’t welcome anyway. That was when Mingi heard a voice above him, calling out if he was all right. Mingi, in his wild shape, peeked out above the water. A random stranger peered out from over the railings of a large ship with a concerned look. Confused, Mingi shifted back into his human form, and the stranger cast a rope ladder over the railing for him to climb. As Mingi crawled over onto the deck, the stranger handed him a cloth to dry himself off, again asking Mingi if he was okay, noting that he had watched Mingi be chased into the water. The stranger introduced themselves as Yunho, sitting Mingi down as another stranger walked up with food for Mingi to eat. They asked if he wished for them to bring him back to the island, but Mingi refused - he had no home anymore. That day, Mingi found himself in the care of the crew of the Silver Light, no longer alone. Mingi would still have nightmares of his time on the island, but Yunho took it upon himself to calm Mingi’s mind, always sharing stories and songs to bring him comfort. Mingi knew that he would never be an outcast again, finding a home that loved him no matter what. 

Wooyoung: Human Barbarian/Rogue

From the time he was born, Wooyoung made his presence known. As a toddler, he would regularly yell “hello” to everyone he passed by, always asking questions and showing affection to those around him whenever he got the chance. He was full of love and passion and volume, a spark of joy to behold. However, that spark of joy would soon be dimmed. A cult raided his village, destroying everything and capturing all of the children for the sake of their master to be put to work. Wooyoung and all the other children were forced to build shrines for this cult in complete silence. Every day was filled with grueling hard labor, the likes of which no child should ever experience - and it nearly drove Wooyoung insane. Years he spent in silence, his light nearly snuffed out completely, until one day, he snapped. Tired of being forced into silence, Wooyoung screamed out, rallying the other children and teens into revolting. Wooyoung picked up a pickaxe and began to smash the chains that bound each child together, sending them into a full-fledged riot. Wooyoung and the other now older members of the group fought off the guards, his passion inspiring them all to liberate themselves from the cult. That day, every one escaped into freedom, leaving Wooyoung to now live his life as he pleased. He hopped from place to place, no longer afraid to use his voice, causing whatever chaos he needed to in order to keep him alive and supplied. This pattern of chaos-creating would end up being how he met his best friend, Yeosang. Wooyoung latched on to Yeosang, the two of them finding a balance and rhythm that helped both of them achieve their goals. Wooyoung’s loud, boisterous, and chaotic personality served as an excellent distraction for Yeosang’s silent, tactical means of getting what they needed. Even when they found themselves faced with “The Charitable Pirate” Hongjoong, Wooyoung did his best to get them out, even if it meant yelling, lying, or fighting their way out. Thankfully, that was not the case, and Wooyoung followed Yeosang in joining the crew of the Silver Light. Wooyoung immediately took it upon himself to bring everyone together, using his friendly demeanor to start breaking the silences that fell upon the still new crewmates. Though they would never admit it out loud, the rest of the crew (even Yeosang) were thankful for Wooyoung, because they knew without his overly-friendly and loud nature, they would never be as connected with each other. Wooyoung would never have to live in silence again. 

Jongho: Human Fighter

Jongho was born to a family of nobles who served an arrogant, prideful royal family. These royals took their role too seriously, and made sure that everyone who worked for them “knew their place”. Even as a child, Jongho never understood what made them so different aside from their title, but his parents told him to keep quiet and do as he was told so he would be okay. And so, Jongho did as he was told, training in various forms of combat and weaponry to serve the family as a personal guard. From a young age, he showed great potential in anything he picked up, and had a knack for learning things quickly. He showed the royals that he was an asset to hold on to, even if it meant having to keep his opinions to himself. One day, Jongho walked through the halls of the royal palace, tasked with guarding the crown prince. Everything was quiet until one of the royal maids accidentally tripped and fell into the crown prince, nearly knocking him over. Before Jongho could even react, the crown prince shoved the maid to the floor, screaming at her in disgust for “daring to touch royalty”. Jongho was horrified at the scene - a grown man screaming at an innocent woman for an accident she had no control over. Jongho, without even thinking, immediately stood in front of the now distraught woman, still on the floor, staring the crown prince down with a glare. The crown prince ordered Jongho to move aside so he could “teach the wretch a lesson”, but Jongho refused, finally letting his feelings towards the royal family be known - they were crass, arrogant, and didn’t deserve to rule if this was how they treated the people who worked for them. Needless to say, Jongho was quickly banished from the kingdom, with nothing but his skills to keep him going. Jongho bounced around from town to town, doing odd jobs that used his skills well to keep him going. Still a knight at heart, Jongho regularly practiced his combat with any weapon he could find in the early hours of the day before heading into town for work. This habit would continue even in the harbor town he now resided in, stocking cargo ships and hauling fresh fish from the fishermen. One morning, as he practiced as usual, a voice called out to him, stating that Jongho was “doing it wrong”. Immediately whipping around to sass the voice that he was doing it properly, he came face-to-face with “The Charitable Pirate King” Hongjoong. The captain recounted that he and his crew had watched Jongho practice for a few mornings now, seeing his potential and skill. Hongjoong offered Jongho a chance to put those skills to use as a part of the crew of the Silver Light. Jongho, having nothing left to lose, agreed nonchalantly, walking with the captain to begin his new life using his power and knowledge to do what he wanted. He no longer had to be at the mercy of those who saw him as a means to an end - he was now the fighter that he longed to be. 

[msmk11]

Too Far Gone, Don’t Send Help

Part 1

Sirius Black x gn!reader

Word count: 2.5k

CW: Cursing, mention of broken bones

Summary: Multi-part fic of reader pining after Sirius Black and remaining stuck in the friend zone

A/n: Hey everyone! This is a new little fic I decided to start writing because I needed an outlet for my own, unfortunate situation of unrequited pining. I guarantee you that most of my content for this fic will be loosely based on my own experiences. That being said, I have not and likely will not experience resolution to my own unrequited feelings so who knows how this fic will end! Would love feedback or suggestions as I write! Hope you enjoy the first chapter :)

It was safe to say that you were completely and totally fucked. Though you’re not sure if you were ever…. unfucked?

So here’s the deal. You have had a MASSIVE crush on Sirius Black for just about a year now, and you barely know him.

Pathetic, right?

What makes it worse is that Sirius knows. Or, well, at least, knew. After one of your silly little friends had let slip about your crush at a Gryffindor party, one the very same Sirius Black was attending, he had acted sort of weird around you for a few weeks.

In the hallways he’d send you winks, across the lawn he’d shout hellos, and in class he’d pass you notes. But that little bout of attention was merely temporary. Within the month, Sirius seemed to have forgotten you entirely, and you were back to not existing in his world.

So when you find out that Sirius Black has joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a beater, the same team for which you play as a chaser, your stomach is filled with dread. You guess it’s no surprise that he joined, now that his best friend James Potter is captain. Still, you were hoping Potter would have picked literally anyone else to fulfill the position.

Just your luck.

Though anxiety claws at your stomach before the first practice of the season, you decide to act as normal as possible. For all you know, Sirius has totally forgotten about your little crush from last year- the one you still have, actually- but he doesn’t need to know that.

As the team gathers on the pitch for practice, you notice the typical start-of-the-year tension and awkwardness radiating from newbie players. Black, of course, is the exception as he casually stands with the fanciest broom and jokes with James about Merlin knows what.

You curse yourself internally that your body can’t help but react to how bloody good Sirius looks in his training clothes. The loose muscle tee that hangs off his body shows his deliciously muscled arms that just so happen to be covered in ink. His long black hair is pulled back into a casual bun with small pieces that seem to unintentionally frame his handsome face perfectly. You admire the glint in his gray eyes as he laughs animatedly and you wish you were the cause.

Knowing that Sirius was going to be at practices now, you intentionally avoid getting to the quidditch pitch until the last possible second. Still, Potter is automatically on your ass.

“Oi, glad you finally decided to join us,” he says mockingly.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “okay, so, no. We’re not gonna be doing that actually, this whole ‘telling me what to do thing’. Especially not when I’ve been your equal for years, Potter. Maybe even better.”

He huffs out a laugh, “if you were better, why am I captain then?”

“Cause I told McGonagall no,” you answer with a smirk.

His jaw drops and you start laughing. “So we good, pretty boy?”

The brunette rolls his eyes playfully at you and holds his hands up in surrender, “fine, fine, whatever. Let’s start practice. Three laps around the pitch everyone.”

While everyone else groans, you simply tug off your t-shirt, leaving you in a black tank and black Nike shorts. You look over to Marlene who is retying her laces slowly.

“Come on Marls,” you tsk, “the longer you put it off the more you have to dread it. Let’s just go do it.”

The blonde looks up at you and whines, “ugh, fine. Remind me again why you keep letting me come back to play. I hate running.”

“Cause you love being a chaser with me?”

“Ehhhhh…”

“Cause it makes you look bloody hot for your darling girlfriend.”

“Ah, right,” she says, her face lighting up. “That’s it. Race ya?”

“You’re on, McKinnon.”

The two of us tear off down the field at a fast pace, zooming past many of the other team members who, smartly, are doing a light jog. As we pass Sirius and James, who are running side by side, you hear Potter call out, “that’s right, kick their ass, McKinnon.”

Too focused to snark back, you simply flip him off and keep running as he cackles.

For you, running is a long game. So while Marlene is certainly beating you right now, you know that, ultimately, she will lose. Though you’re still running fast, you’ve decided to save some of your energy for the end of the race. When Marlene starts to tire out, you’ll still have stamina and end up passing her.

True to your goal, two and a half laps later Marlene has begun to significantly slow down. As she huffs and sort of holds her side, you gain speed and pass her. A burst of adrenaline shoots through you as you reach the finish line and cheer.

“Ah ha! Yes! I won!”

Marlene merely groans through pants and collapses onto the grass. “Merlin, I’m out of shape. I think I’m dying.”

You drop to your knees dramatically, “no, Marls, please, don’t die on me. I can’t survive this without you.”

Your other teammates who have begun to join you as they finish their three laps chuckle at your dramatics.

“If you die, I must die with you.” You then imitate stabbing yourself in the heart and collapse to the ground.

As you play dead with your eyes closed, you notice a shift in light behind your eyelids. You open them and squint up. Of course, no one other than Sirius Black is hovering over you.

“My, James never told me we had quite the actor on our team.”

Your heart starts beating faster and you flush a little, realizing you totally just acted a fool in front of your crush. “Yeah, well, everyone has their secrets,” you say softly.

“Such a disgrace to hide your talent from the world,” he answers dramatically.

You smirk a little and roll your eyes at the raven-haired boy, “Yeah well….” You stand up and brush yourself off before placing your hands on your hips and give him an awkward smile.

“So, a beater, huh? I didn’t pin you as the type to play Quidditch.”

“I don’t really, besides for fun. But James needed another player, and I have a lot of anger so….”

You shrug your shoulders, “fair enough.”

James interrupts your conversation, thank god, by announcing that you all are now going to run drills. He decides he wants to catch the new players up so he has Fabian Prewett, the seasoned beater, work with Sirius, Marlene work with the new keeper, some 5th year brunette girl you can’t quite remember the name of, and you with the seeker, a 4th year boy with bright blonde hair and wide eyes named Jackson Creevey.

“Okay Creevey. So we’re gonna work on your maneuvering first. Instead of releasing a snitch, I’m going to pretend to be it. I’ll zoom all around and I wanna see how quickly you adapt to wild turns, dives, etc. James will be watching and is going to give you tips. You ready?”

The eager blonde boy nods and mounts his broom. You both raise high in the air and face each other. “Okay, I get a five second head start. After that, try to tag me.”

With that you zoom off towards the goals on the left as fast as you can, anticipating the boy following you. Surprisingly, Jackson is bloody fast, but also a little more unstable on his broom. You pause as he rushes towards you and then at the last second fly vertically upward and flip around in the other direction. He zooms past where you would have been and has to slow down before turning around to follow. You zigzag across the sky, looping around the stands into the clouds and beneath the rafters below. As he gains on you under the rafters, you dart upwards back onto the field. This time, though, he anticipates it, and remains close behind.

“Good,” James shouts, “keep anticipating their moves.”

As you feign to turn left, you actually turn right and slip out of his close grasp.

Reveling in your victory of outsmarting him, what you don’t see is the bludger heading your way. Just as you hear the yell of “look out,” the ball slams into your shoulder and sends you off balance. You cry out in pain as you hear a crack and wobble on your broom. Luckily you are able to keep enough control to land safely before rolling off. A string of curses leave your mouth as you clutch your arm and writhe in pain on the ground.

“Oh fuck!” James hops off his broom and runs over to you. He kneels down in the grass and looks at your face.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?”

With tears stinging in your eyes you shout, “obviously not! I think my arm is broken!”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. “Okay, let’s take you to the hospital wing. I’m going to help you up, okay?”

You grit your teeth, “my legs aren’t broken I-“

“Just let me help you- please” He begs pleadingly.

“Fine, fine okay.”

Supporting your back and using your other arm, he carefully lifts you to your feet. “Sirius, you grab her broom and meet me in the hospital wing. Everyone else, practice is dismissed.”

You ignore everyone’s concerned faces as you walk towards the castle with James. As much as you hate to admit it, tears are streaming down your face from the pain.

“What the fuck happened?” You mumble.

“I’m not sure, I was watching you and Creevey. But I think Sirius hit a rogue bludger and it slammed into you.”

You want to be mad at Black and curse his name, but between your feelings for him and the fact that you know it’s not his fault, you instead huff and say, “well tell him that he should save his hits for the rival teams, yeah?”

The bespectacled boy beside you lets out a quiet laugh and nods. “I really am sorry by the way. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault you got injured. I mean, it’s my first practice of the season as captain and someone already got hurt.”

At this point we’ve arrived at the castle and James rushes ahead to open the doors for you. You give him a small, watery smile and walk inside. As he trails after you you say, “look, you have nothing to be sorry for James. It’s not your fault. Accidents happen in quidditch all the time. It’s part of the game, I know the risks. I should have just been more careful. And anyways, it’s not like I’ve died, yeah? Just some broken bones. Madame Pomfrey will have me good as new by the end of the weekend.”

He sighs and rubs his face tiredly, “I know, I know, you’re right. I just want to do well.”

I stop and look into his hazel eyes very seriously, “James, you’re going to do amazing as captain. Though I might be a better chaser than you,” I smirk, “I’ve never met anyone more dedicated and passionate. You’re not just a great quidditch player, you’re a great leader.”

He smiles softly, “thanks.”

“What are friends for?”

*****

Once you and Potter had finally arrived to the hospital wing, you were promptly rushed to a bed by Madame Pomfrey as she mumbled about how dangerous quidditch was under her breath. As she looked your arm over she confirmed what you thought- broken bones. Though with the flick of a wand your bones were mended, she still ordered you a night’s rest in the hospital wing so that she could keep an eye on you in case anything went wrong. The pill she gave you to help with the residual pain quickly put you off into a deep sleep.

When you awake it is clear a lot of time has passed. It’s now dark outside and the room is quiet besides the soft snores of someone beside you. You squint at the figure sleeping in the hard chair next to your bed and realize it to be…Sirius.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you inhale sharply through your nose. It seems this startles him as he jolts awake and gasps a little.

“Oh, hi, you’re awake,” He declares softly, looking at you.

“What…are you doing here?” You ask quietly.

“I just…wanted to check on you.”

Your heart quickens at his seeming concern. “Black, I’m fine, really. My arm is all good to go, I’m just staying overnight cause Pomfrey wants to keep an eye on me.”

He scratches his head awkwardly, “oh, right. Well….I also just, wanted to apologize. It’s entirely my fault that you’re here. If only I’d been more careful…”

You smile a little at his anxious stuttering and thank the gods that he can’t see the heat flushing to your face over his cuteness. “Black, honestly, you’re fine. Shit happens, it’s part of the game. And if you really wanna repay me, help win us some games hmmm?”

He lets out a huff and slumps backwards in his seat, now more relaxed. “Yeah, course. Gryffindor is gonna bring home the cup again this year.”

“Well duh, how could we lose?”

“If our star player has a broken arm?” He teases lightly. “Don’t tell James I said that. He’d be offended.”

You roll your eyes and smirk, “of course not, gotta protect his fragile ego.”

Sirius lets out a loud laugh and you beam, though quickly shush him.

“Be quiet! Pomfrey will kill you for keeping me from my ‘much needed rest’.”

“Nah she won’t. Poppy loveeees me.”

You quirk an eyebrow in disbelief, “yeah, uh-huh, sure. All those gray hairs that have popped up on her head since you’ve been here really prove that.”

“Uhm, actually, that’s called aging,” the boy corrects you dramatically. “I am an angel.”

You snort loudly and cover your giggles behind your hand. Though you hear Sirius scoff in offense, you can faintly make out the smile playing at his soft lips.

“Okay Black, whatever you say.”

He hums softly and silence falls over us for a few minutes. Your mind is racing, feeling the need to say something, anything.

“Uh, you know you don’t have to stay. I’m fine, you know. You can go get some sleep.”

Okay, yes, send him away. Great idea, dumbass.

“No can do. It is my duty to stay here with you until you’re out of the hospital. I won’t feel right otherwise. You can go back to sleep though, I’ll just sit right here.”

“Nah that’s okay,” you say, “I’m not really tired after I just took the longest nap of my life.”

“Right, well, wanna play a game?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “what sort of game?”

“Twenty questions?”

“Alright, but I ask you questions first.”

[lilhealthybean]

Lovers rock!

"Stop staring at me like that darling, you are really making me impossible to let you go"

Tag: jjk, toji zenin

Note: au where sorcery doesn't exist, just mundane people. just remade it :)

"Sure he said he was coming?"

It was already midnight, and there was no sign of Toji at your birthday party, which had already ended. You knew he wouldn't show up even before inviting him; he always found birthday parties boring. Yet, deep down, you hoped he would walk through that door at any moment.

"Hey, don't pout! Come on, it is your 20th birthday" exclaimed Gojo as he approached you for a hug before leaving your house. his arm, supporting him to prevent any falls.

"Are you coming with us, Utahime?" Geto inquired, raising an eyebrow at the girl while searching for his car keys.

Utahime glanced at you one last time. You shrugged, indicating that you would be fine alone, ant there was no need for her to stay longer. It was better for her to go with them, as Geto would drive her home, avoiding a ten minute walk alone in the dark streets.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" the girl said, giving you a hug.

You nodded, and the three of them departed. They were the last guests, leaving you alone in a house still littered with plastic cups and music echoing in the living room.

Feeling no fatigue, you began cleaning up the mess while still enjoying the music. The sound of the door opening and closing didn't startle you; it was probably Gojo, who always forgot something important, like his house keys or wallet.

"Satoru, maybe you left it in the bathroom when you were throwing up for the third time" you remarked, without looking up.

"Should I be jealous of that Satoru, darling?" a deep voice inquired, causing your heart skip a beat.

You gazed at the entrance, locking eyes with Toji as he leaned against the door frame.

"Toji, you are 2 hours late... The party has already ended" It was difficult to be upset with him as he gazed at you with his mischievous green eyes and a smirk on his face.

"Relax darling, I was trying to get your birthday present" he said, showing the bag containing alcohol bottles. You looked at him with a blank expression, trying to figure out if he was joking or if that was really your gift.

Before you could respond, Toji came over to heko you clean up that mess. You figured that was his way of apologizing for being late.

After thirty minutes, the house was tidied up, and both of you were lounging on the couch in a comfortable silence. He was already on his second beer, while you watched him sideways.

"Are you sick of me already darling?" asked Toji, trying to sound nochalant.

"Would you like me to be?" he remained silent in response, lost in his thoughts.

"It would be easier for me if you were" the man confessed, leaving the empty can on the table. He gaze at you. You did the same, enjoyinf the sight of his striking features. Toji gently stroked your hair and gave you a small smile "I am really going to miss you, darling"

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach, the one that had plagued you since he announced the devastating news and left the neighborhood.

"Tell me something new, you've been saying that for months" you replied, moving closer to him, even catching a whiff of his strong cologne. Toji chuckled, stood up from the sofa and stretched. He knew that if he stayed physically close to you, he wouldn't be able to leave.

"I should head home now, tomorrow is my big day, I guess" Toji mentioned, yawning and almost stumbling as he attempted to take a step.

With the courage you had, you gently grasped his wrist. He remained in his position, gazing at the floor, trying to avoid meeting your eyes. The music continued to play in the background, although neither of them were trully paying attention to it.

"Toji... you are too drunk to drive... If you want, you can stay just for tonight" you whispered, feeling your cheeks flush. Toji simply nodded, still avoiding your gaze

Meanwhile, you couldn't hel but feel joy welling up inside you. With your help, Toji managed to make his way to you bedroom and collapsed onte one side of the bed. You settled on the other side, facing him.

"Stop staring at me like that darling, you are really making me impossible to let you go" he murmured, drawing closer to you and encircling your waist with his hands. Then he buried his face in your neck and let out a deep sigh. "It reminds me of the way you used to look at me those nights when I climbed through your window to listen music while we kissed", admitted Toji with a hint of sadness in his tone

"I am not the one getting married tomorrow" you remarked as your fingers ran through his hair. He pulled you closer, letting out a soft chuckle.

"As if I wanted it. It's just my stupid family. And as if you aren't going to live in the United Kingdom..." he whispered before planting a gentle kiss on your neck

You felt that familiar knot tightening in your chest, but this time was more intense. You managed to swallow hard and prevent the tears from streaming down your cheeks. Life was truly playing a cruel game with you.

"Well... Satoru once said that love is the most vicious curse one could ever endure. I guess he is somewhat right" you murmured in a soft voice

Toji left you another kiss on you, this time on your shoulder.

"Well Gojo isn't the only one who can say poetic things... love can scorch like a cigarette and leave you desserted" he added, a tinge of jealousy evident towards the boy you had mentioned twice that evening. He then nestled his face back into your neck and closed his eyes.

"And that's how I want it to be Toji..." you said firmly "Tomorrow, when I wake up, I want to wake up alone. It would be better for us" You felt the tears threatening to escape your eyes, your vision was already blurry.

"Whatever you want darling"

After that statement, the conversation ended. Even though both of you were awake, you preferred to remain in silence, savoring that last moment of peace and intimacy.

You didn't know how or when you fell asleep, but you knew perfectly well that when you woke up and opened your eyes, Toji wouldn't longer be there.

You were left again, alone with nothing

[lesbianamalvada]

I'm sorry girlies but I just DO NOT get Darlington's appeal. He's a fine character, maybe it's just the lesbian in me, but him and Alex seem SO FORCED. Plus it's a "slow burn" but we know what the fuck you're gonna do Bardugo!! Idk it's just so forced, ntm they've barely spent anytime together because Dumbass Darlington walked into monster month (and his last thoughts were blaming Alex for it, lmfaoo). And the interaction they do have together is dull, sorry! Alex is such a cool character and she has more chemistry with literally EVERYONE ELSE in the cast.

I mean just look at the descent in Hell Bent where we get a backstory of all the characters. Pamela Dawes isn't loud and out-of-this-world like most Bardugo characters. She feels so realistic, but is still so interesting. We see how she has crippling anxiety from developing too fast, how she hides behind her academia, how she's torn up about killing Blake. She's so understated but so real and relatable for it.

We see how Turner struggles with being a cop and trying to be a bastard, how he literally killed his mentee for what he believes in, how he tries to be a fighter for good and his people in a world that rewards him for doing the opposite. Even his spirituality is handled respectfully and he's just a really well done character.

Then we have Tripp, we've all met a Tripp, all the privilege in the world but you can't even hate him for it cause he's been too sheltered to ever develop a mean bone in his body. Except we see how he dealt with abuse from his cousin all his life. We see how Spenser just gets away with it, and I empathized with Tripp when he let Spenser die. (Which btw he's not technically a murderer for that but WHATEVER LEIGH) After the descent I did a full 180 on his character!

And Mercy is so fun. She's not familiar with the world of magic and looks at it with hopeful-Harry-Potter-fan eyes, she's like a conduit for the reader in a way the jaded Alex can't be. But also if you think about her backstory is VERY dark. She was violated in the most horrible way by this magic before she even knew it existed. And now she wants to harness that same magic so she's never put in that position again. She kills a man because Alex tells her to, because she thinks this is some sort of Hogwarts adventure. And then at the end of the book you see grasp what Lethe is, and her tension with Alex is *chef's kiss* so good!

Ughh and thenn we have Darlington...what's Darlington's big murderer moment? The thing that made him eligible for a scholarship at Demon University? He *checks notes* pulled the life support on his dying geriatric grandpa at the man's own request....okayy. Surely there's something else? Well you see Darlington's always wanted to believe in magic! Just like all of us! It's like he's trying to hard to represent us fantasy readers, but by the second book Mercy already accomplishes this and does it better. And I guess you can say he had neglectful parents but it's just handled so unrealistically I couldn't believe it. 1. Once the grandpa was dead and Darlington was a minor his parents could have easily torn down that shitty house. 2. Darlington would legally belong to them, they wouldn't have to turn off the electricity to freeze him out of the house, they could call CPS who would bust down the doors and give him to his parents. 3. His whole backstory relies on a crusty house?? Really?? 4. I'm tired of the poor little rich boy trope. I'd rather have characters like Tripp, yes they've had their own struggles but wealth has shielded them, instead of unrealistic characters like Darlington. It's even worse because Leigh tries to frame Alex's and Darlington's childhood as "two sides of the same coin' when it's not that at all!

And you'd think Demon Danny would have a little spice but, no? I guess he enjoyed punishing people and making them suffer (told, not show) and he has urges to do it again? But more importantly we need to know that he REALLY REALLY wants to fuck Alex. Also he will serve Alex TiL tHe EnD oF dAyS! He's also her personal slave now and she can make him do whatever. Demon Danny is starting to feel like a fetish, okay? IT'S. SO. FORCED. They barely had any chemistry before the dumbass walked straight into Hell, but I see why Alex's destructive nature would put her on a suicide mission for his rescue. But now he's dreaming about her in his perfect future? They're cosmically connected to each other? It's so funny because they are both way closer to Pamela Dawes but just fuck her I guess.

Anyway I think Darlington lacks substance and he's not good enough for Alex BUT i'm hoping I'll like him more in book 3. Can any Darlington fans give me your interpretation of the character and why you like him? I really don't like feeling this way since he's such a big part of the story and sometimes a different analysis is all you need. As of right now he's the embodiment "Go girl! Give us nothing!" for me.