#mysterious ending

[pininghermit]

A God's Worship

Request: I hope you are doing well 💗 I love the new Adrian x dutchess reader story. I got the prompt, 'Psyco'. I was wondering if you could write a Adrian Tepes x female reader story where the reader is a bit unhinged. But he is madly in love with her. Like a dark, twisted tale. 😁

AN: Hello anon, thank you for reading my work! Here is your request. I hope you enjoy this. Unhinged but madly in love readers are my fav. I tried something new by writing this one poetically.

Genre: drama & angst ig

Pairing(s): Alucard x gn Reader

Summary: His breath hitches. His heartbeat slows. His eyes flutter shut beneath your touch. And the world falls apart.

Some sacrifice love for good. Some burn the world for love. Some light it up. And some… create a new one.

This story is for those who become God to worship their love.

"It is not real!"

Adrian clutches Lisa’s hand, his golden eyes wide, trembling with frantic terror.

"You're dead!"

His body, shrouded in blankets, wracks with shivers as he points a shaking finger at his father.

"And you… I killed you. Why are you here?"

He flinches from their touch, ignoring the gentle hands trying to soothe him, to press a cup of medicine to his lips.

"My dear," Lisa whispers, cupping his damp cheeks. "It is a dream. We are here with you."

She pulls him into her arms, a mother’s warmth, he remember it well. Her warmth, the scent of herbs and ink...his mother.

"A nightmare of the past. Your father and I live. We are alive."

But her words are hollow, empty as the castle halls.

Adrian presses his hands over his ears.

"This is a lie… a spell, a dream, an illusion." His voice wavers, a fragile thing on the brink of breaking. Sweat drips from his temple, strands of pale hair clinging to his nape.

Then—

"Shhh."

A voice silences the storm in his mind.

A whisper, just by his ear. Lips brushing his skin.

"You are safe."

His breath hitches. His heartbeat slows. His eyes flutter shut beneath your touch.

And the world falls apart.

Adrian links his arm through yours.

It takes effort, his gaze refuses to leave you tonight.

The winter ball of the Fae glows with silver light, a kingdom sculpted from frost and moonbeams. Next to him, you are a wonder, robes spun from the midnight sky, glimmering with woken stars. Your hair cascades down your back, untamed, luminous with crystals of ice braided in.

The court is frozen in time, statues carved by the careful hands of devoted brownies.

His mother and father are lost in a sea of dancers, their laughter carried by the wind, lost among masked dancers.

Adrian rubs his thumb over your palm.

"You look beautiful, my love."

He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin.

"Dance with me?"

At your nod, he whisks you onto the floor.

His arms around you. Yours around him. Closer than ever.

He dances with the same effortless grace as his father.

Dracula, after all, had taught him the waltz of the Unseelie Court.

Sun-spun hair rests beneath your fingers. He smiles, laughter spilling from his lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

His steps creak—

Not against polished marble, but against worn wooden floors.

Dust shifts beneath his shoes, months of neglect disturbed with each movement.

Yet his smile remains.

His eyes remain lost in the illusion of your faraway court.

Perhaps it would be easier to let him stay here.

If it brings him joy, you would leave Dracula’s crumbling castle in a heartbeat.

"Do you like it here?" You nod to the marvelous sights of your court that your beloved revels in.

Your fingers weave into his hair, cradling the warmth of his head against your palm.

"Why not stay longer?"

The question is light, effortless. Crafted with delicate precision to mask the quiet desperation curling inside you.

What you would not do to have him here, in your world.

To drape him in silks, to spoil him with the everlasting luxuries of your court.

Adrian frowns.

Hesitation lays itself bare upon his face, a fragile thing for you to pluck away at first sight.

Spells make it easier to read him.

"No… please, no." His fingers tighten around your sleeve, his grip trembling. "I cannot leave home."

His steps falter. His eyes clear, gold sharpening through the mist of illusion. "Must stay with mother...and father," he whimpers.

The edges of your glamour wither, fragile as the first frost beneath morning light.

"Alright, beloved."

You pull him into your embrace, his breath shaky against your shoulder.

"No more. We won’t leave. We shall stay where you wish"

With a mere thought, the phantom forms of his parents step closer.

"We shall stay with your parents."

A reassurance. A spell. A carefully woven promise.

You usher him back into the comfort of his dream. The world you have made for him.

Your beloved is happy there. Fulfilled.

Who are you to deny him?

Here, the castle stands untouched, as it had in the past.

Here, the bodies of traitorous friends do not rot in the woods.

Here, the church has never burned.

Here, the humans still live.

Here, you have given him the world he desires.

And in return, Adrian chooses life.

Next to you. Here.

You twirl him in your arms, guiding him through another waltz beneath the dream-lit sky.

He dances with you, laughter slipping through his lips, until exhaustion drapes over his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

His body leans into yours. He tires more easily now. Agitation wears at him faster, the strain of his soul bound to your spell pressing upon his fragile form.

It had been his fading soul that led you to this.

By the time you found him, it was already too late.

Broken by grief, your beloved had been lost to the cold corridors of his misery, wasting away within the crumbling bones of his father’s castle.

But you refused to let go of him.

Your love, your passion, your despair, your grief, it was all his.

But mercy?

No.

You refused to grant him that.

You refused to let his soul wander where you could not follow.

So, you made him a world.

Seared his soul to yours.

Even death would not take him. Not at the cost of him.

You yawn, feigning drowsiness.

"Shall we retire?"

Adrian blinks up at you, bleary-eyed, nodding without question.

You lead him to his room, guiding him to the bed with a gentleness neither of you deserve.

He does not question the sudden shift in scenery.

Does not question the way his vision wavers, as if some part of him knows.

He simply settles into your arms, his face buried against your neck, breathing softly.

And you hold him closer, knowing he will never wake from this dream.

[aventurineswife]

The rain was relentless, a cold, steady downpour that made the world around you blur into muted shadows and shimmering reflections. The alleyway where you had led Aventurine was eerily quiet, the only sound the gentle hiss of raindrops against the concrete and the distant rumble of thunder.

You straddled him, your knees pressing into the wet ground as you held the cold steel of the knife against his neck. His eyes—those damn eyes—were locked on yours, a mesmerizing swirl of intensity and mystery. The tip of the blade gleamed in the dim light, its weight a constant reminder of the task you had set out to complete. The task you had promised yourself to finish.

But now, as you looked at him—really looked at him—you couldn’t deny the truth that had slowly crept up on you.

You had fallen for him.

Aventurine's lips curled into a faint smile, that all-knowing, cocky grin of his that never seemed to fade. He didn’t look scared. Not really. If anything, he looked... intrigued. Amused, even.

"My best enemy is you," he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the storm.

Your heart clenched at his words. He always had a way of twisting everything, even now, as your knife hovered over his throat. Your fingers tightened around the handle, but you couldn’t bring yourself to strike. The reality of what you were about to do weighed heavily on you, a crushing burden that made every breath feel shallow, every thought fragmented.

“Shut up, or I’ll slit your throat open.” you hissed, trying to keep your composure. But your voice wavered, betraying the turmoil within you.

Aventurine’s smile softened, almost imperceptibly, but his gaze never wavered from yours. He reached up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but deliberate. The warmth of his hand made your breath catch, a sharp, involuntary response to his touch. You flinched, a reflex you couldn’t control, and he noticed. His fingers lingered in your hair, tucking a wet strand behind your ear as he whispered, “You’re beautiful…”

The words were gentle, and they cut through the storm in a way nothing else could. His voice, low and sincere, felt like a knife to your chest. You felt everything—his warmth, his tenderness, and yet... everything you had worked for, everything you had planned, suddenly felt so fragile.

You pressed the knife harder against his throat, the cold steel against his skin a tangible reminder of your mission. But your resolve was slipping. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was the enemy. You were supposed to end him.

"Don’t... don’t say that," you whispered, your voice trembling despite yourself. "I’m not... I'm not who you think I am."

Aventurine’s eyes softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. His hand remained in your hair, the touch lingering, as if he knew the battle raging inside you.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the rain, the distant thunder, and the beating of your own heart. The world seemed to slow, the decision you had to make hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread.

And then, he whispered again, "You don’t have to do this."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to so badly. But the knife in your hand was the only thing that felt real, the only thing that tied you to the life you had chosen. The life you had to live.

But even as you wavered, even as your heart screamed at you to stop, you knew it was too late. You had already crossed the line. There was no turning back now.

You pressed the knife just a little harder, feeling the tension build between you, both of you trapped in this moment of conflict and pain. The rain soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin, but it couldn’t wash away the weight of your decision.

Aventurine's smile never left his lips, even as your hand trembled, poised to strike.

And in that instant, you wondered if he had known all along. If he had always been playing the game, just like you.

"Goodbye..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

You closed your eyes, the knife ready to deliver its final blow, but then you paused.

What if, in that moment, you weren’t the only one playing the game?

The rain fell harder.

I'm not sorry 🏃‍♀️💚💛

[legayllyblonde]

so close! the correct answer was "I love you most".

[chiptrillino-art]

(ID in ALT text) "you remained me on some guy... "

[thankstothe]

eat him alive <3

[danicloth]

A tall glass of you 💕…

Happy Valentine’s Day guys!, I hope you have a great time today with your partners, with your friends or even with yourself 'cause self-love is also important, right? lol…

[consultingfujoshi]

ohhhh outie irving's thing goes so much deeper than I could have imagined. it was pretty obvious that he chose to become severed to try to use his innie self to communicate with and learn more about the severed floor and he's been doing all those paintings in the hopes his memory of the testing floor will bleed through to his innie, but this episode implies he's part of a much bigger conspiracy than just that.

irving is not some lone vigilante as I expected him to be. he's working with at least one other person to try to communicate with innies and spread knowledge of the goings on at lumon using his place as a plant on the severance floor. perhaps even the same people that helped petey become reintegrated.

he knows he's being watched and makes anonymous calls a ways from his home. he immediately had a cover story when milchick turned up like he was expecting to be questioned. he doesn't want to reveal that his innie woke up on the outside and is trying to figure out exactly how much lumon knows, and refuses to reveal his own hand before this. he tells milchick to tell him what all this is about so he can get a better grasp on how much he needs to lie about. he IMMEDIATELY distrusts milchick's motivations.

he has no idea what just happened and why, only that there's a chance all the work he's been doing on the outside has finally started paying off and he can't risk undoing all that progress by accidentally admitting to something. for all he knows his innie put this all in motion himself. he doesn't know it's part of a completely unrelated plan with his coworkers to break out. so he lies and pretends nothing happened because admitting his innie broke out might also fuck up the rest of whatever he's planning/working on. he's protecting both of his selves from a company he very clearly now is working to undermine.

he made sure to get home quickly after waking up at burt's (i still need to know how that played out, thanks!) so it looked as if he'd been there the whole time. the gears are immediately turning wrt his innie going to burt. he's trying to figure out how that guy fits into all this. maybe he's even going to approach burt thinking he's a co-conspirator on the outside and try to enlist him. I wonder how he will react when he finds out that's not the case at all and their connection is much more individual and personal than that. when he finds out his innie almost sacrificed all the work he's been doing the past three years because he fell in love and got his heart broken by this guy. I wonder if he'll ever find out.

AND WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH BURT FOLLOWING IRV AROUND. WHAT KIND OF SOULMATE MAGNETIC FORCES RED STRING OF FATE SHIT ARE THESE TWO ON!!!!!

[artsymeeshee]

I will be making all of these eventually, I’m just curious which one y’all want to see more.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sunrise, Parabellum.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[weevmo]

Just felt like doodling some senseless cute Mush starring my favorite pooch! And his Momma! I cannot wait to learn more about them -

[ryllen]

" Then—laughter. "

(( FAHDADSHDDASD NOT PART OF THE STORY. N O . ))

[poirott]

AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT series final scene 13x05 "Curtain"

"Words really can't express how much that obsessive, kindly, gentle man with his mincing walk, his 'little grey cells' and his extraordinary accent had come to mean to me. To lose him now, after so long, was like losing the dearest of friends, even though I was only an actor playing a part." - David Suchet, Poirot and Me

[scribz-ag24]

What if the Time Gears had actually threatening guardians.

[time-woods]

EMOTIONAL WIN ! ! the bug lets his emotions make decisions for once !

[canisalbus]

I swapped them around in a silly doodle

.

[mulletmik]

You can't spell clown artist without con artist!

Reposting this bc I finally scanned it and I've seen more people talking about Stan getting back into art post Weirdmageddon and I think he would've been very inspired by the sad clown painting he stole from Bud so much so that he'd start making his own