#or at least with more dimension next book

[abitterberryblog]

simple comic doodle of Chapter LXXII (?) from The Will of the Many

[ full page drawing + major spoilers under cut !! ]

thought it would be kinda funny to draw such a serious scene in my doodle style

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[is-this-even-relatable]

Danny runs an Infinite Realms shop. Curiosities from every dimension, any culturally significant item lost to time, and some cheap china. He’s got it all~

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NEW FIC IDEA JUST DROPPED

Ok so i’ve been steeped in the dpxdc for many a year now. I've seen a bit of everything. I want to combine some of those ideas with a bit of my own headcanon and see what takes shape.

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Danny, half dead and half alive, one of the rarest species in existence, grown up yet still so young considering his immortality, powerful sovereign of an infinite dimension of beings from every possible world and universe, decides to settle somewhere and take it slow. After all, he's got eternity to do so.

So he finds a dimension he thought could only exist in comic books, and thought to himself, Now this, this is a nice place to settle. He loves how many heroes there are in this world, heck there are even aliens! Yet there are many heroes for a reason. With so many dark forces in the universe, it had to produce many bright beacons of hope to balance the encroaching evil. That is another reason why he chose this particular dimension, and this particular city. There was just so much negative energy, too much, in fact, that the heroes in this city, Gotham, could not keep up. He hoped that over the next century or however long he remained in this dimension, that his presence would provide a much-needed balm to the area, and that the sickly dark fingers of cosmic corruption would lessen. If not, well, he could always take a more direct approach. After all, he had the power of infinite universes backing him, one measly dimension’s worth of corruption against him would be like a minnow trying to catch a shark.

With a little bit of time travel shenanigans (thanks, Clockwork!), Danny soon has a perfectly legal identity as one Daniel James Fenton-Phantom, 30 years old (he figures he can pass as such, even though he stopped aging around 25), from a random town in bumfuck Illinois (sue him, it’s familiar). And after a bit of researching, Danny chooses a small street in the rougher side of the city. Not too big to be deemed as suspicious for buying practically the whole block, and out of the way enough to not attract too much attention. He spends a couple weeks getting used to the energy in this new dimension and setting up his haunt. He cleaned up what he was now referring to as “his street” in his head, and got rid of the debris, trash and general wear from the buildings. He hired some locals to renovate one, an old apartment that he was planning on renting out and staying in. He also chose a smaller building, somewhat tucked away in the corner, to use as his own personal store. The rest he leased out for cheap to small and struggling local businesses. He figured it’s the least he could do after already occupying so much space.

Several days later, and voila, his home was set.

[daydreamerdrew]

Fantastic Comics (1939) #21

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Mister Targaryen's Curious Bookshop

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, Aemond being obsessed with the reader, a little bit of self-loathing and low self-esteem (Aemond), flower shop/bookshop AU

Summary: Aemond thought he would be alone with his bookshop for the rest of his life. Until the flower shop next door came back to life.

A/N: This fic had been sitting in my WIPs for ages. @hotd-bigbang gave me the motivational push to finally write it. And @targaryenrealnessdarling visualised my words so wonderfully, helping me imagine and feel this fic more.

Masterlist Taglist

Aemond had been working at "The Curious Book Shop" since college. It had become his refuge from the chaos of his family life and a break from his studies. He would hide in the deepest corners, surrounded by rows upon rows of books, studying for exams or reading for pleasure.

It was during one of his early morning runs that he stumbled upon his fate. Just around the corner from his apartment complex, he noticed a small bookshop. Something about it pulled him in as if it were calling out to him. The smell of old books gently wafted into his nostrils, and he felt as though he had entered heaven.

Aemond wandered the shop slowly, lazily browsing the shelves. His fingers grazed the spines of both old and new books. He spotted classics like *Frankenstein* and beautifully bound editions of Jane Austen novels, but there was also an entire section dedicated to fresh voices, new writers waiting to be discovered. 

Time slipped away from him until the bookshop keeper, a kind elderly man with snow-white hair, a stout build, and round glasses that made his eyes look larger—like a slightly overfed hamster—tapped him gently on the shoulder. With a warm smile, the man told him it was closing time.

Aemond felt a pang of disappointment. He had only explored half of the shop and longed to uncover every hidden corner. 

From that day on, he became a regular. His visits were so frequent that the old man eventually offered him a job. Aemond accepted without hesitation; it was a dream come true to work in a place filled with books.

Though Aemond had completed his business degree at Queen’s College in King’s Landing, he didn’t pursue the corporate path his mother and grandfather had carefully laid out for him. Instead, he chose to put his skills to use at the bookshop. His mentor appreciated his knack for numbers and calculations, and Aemond soon took over managing the shop’s finances and budgets.

For a long time, Aemond was simply an employee. His mentor guided him through all the shop’s nooks and crannies, revealing the secrets hidden deep within the endless rows of books. But when the old man passed away, Aemond was shocked to discover that, in his will, he had left the bookshop to him.

"Old Valyrian magic," his mentor had said one day as they placed new arrivals on the shelves near the cashier, "is rooted deep in every corner of this bookshop—in every rug fibre, dust grain, and wooden splinter. It is like the skeleton of this wonderful shop."

Aemond could feel it too—the raw power lingering behind closed doors, in the creaks of the wooden floor, and the way the air seemed to hum with ancient energy. Or, at least, he thought he did. The truth was, sometimes the shop seemed to have a mind of its own. Doors would appear where there had been none before, opening to reveal strange, hidden rooms. Other times, doors would remain locked no matter how hard he tried, as if the bookshop decided he wasn’t ready to enter.

One day, after stocking the historical crime books, Aemond’s curiosity was piqued when a door swung open just as he turned away from the shelves. This door, unlike the others, seemed to beckon him. It led him not to another room but to an entirely different dimension—a space outside the normal laws of reality.

There were no books written about the bookshop itself, at least none he could find, and so he started documenting his explorations in a leather-bound notebook. In it, he scribbled down every detail, theory, and oddity he encountered. He spent hours after closing wandering the ever-shifting landscape of the shop, venturing through realms that seemed to exist only within its walls. The bookshop was playful—mischievous, even. It would open random doors, then lock them again, guiding him through magical adventures far beyond the world outside.

One room in particular had become his favourite: The Hidden Library. It was a vast, seemingly endless space filled with row after row of books, stretching far into the sky. There were books of every kind—small, hand-sized paperbacks, large encyclopedic tomes, volumes bound in leather with golden lettering, some in languages long dead. History, botany, astrology, science, philosophy—the scope of knowledge was overwhelming.

The towering shelves formed a maze, a labyrinth of wisdom and mystery. At the heart of this labyrinth sat a large oak desk, polished to such perfection that it gleamed like glass. Above it hung an ornate chandelier, casting a warm, amber glow over the desk, perfect for reading or studying in the comforting silence of the library.

But the labyrinth had its whims. The shelves shifted at will, reshuffling the paths and the books. It was both awe-inspiring and, at times, deeply frustrating. There were days when the maze seemed to toy with him, taking him in circles or preventing him from finding the desk. Yet, Aemond knew it was the bookshop's way of showing off—revealing itself bit by bit, granting him access to its secrets.

Aemond often imagined that the Library of Alexandria must have been like this—filled with treasures of knowledge, books and scrolls that held the wisdom of the world, guarded by time and mystery. Here, in his bookshop, he was one of the lucky few to uncover these treasures.

But The Hidden Library wasn’t the only room that fascinated him. There were other hidden chambers—each with its own magic, its own allure. He spent so much time exploring these secret places that he realized the bookshop had become more than just his workplace. It was his refuge, his second home, and perhaps, more than anything, a living entity he had come to understand like a dear, old friend.

Next to the magical bookshop stood an old, battered flower shop. The windows were dusty, and the paint on the rusty frames—once a bright blue—was flaking off. The sunblinds were torn and faded, their colour washed out from years of rain and weather damage.

Aemond’s mentor had once mentioned that the old owner couldn’t keep the shop open because her hands were no longer as nimble as they used to be. “The arrangements she made were as magical as this bookshop,” he would always say. “A shame she had to close it. She had no one to take over.”

The old bookshop owner had seemed melancholic whenever he spoke of the previous florist, smiling wistfully as if he had secretly admired her, perhaps even loved her in silence. Little did he know that he would share the same fate, leaving behind his beloved shop.

But one day, the flower shop next door sprang back to life. The scent of spring flowers began to fill the street, drifting into Aemond’s bookshop. The windows were freshly cleaned, and a new, bright yellow sunblind had been installed, replacing the worn one.

A week after the shop reopened, he saw her. She had messy, short hair in a half-up, half-down style, and a soft smile on her rosy, full lips. Her eyes sparkled as she quietly mumbled to herself, carefully arranging cut flowers in a vase outside the shop.

Aemond didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed watching her. Lost in her own little world, she crafted magnificent art with flowers, leaves, and other natural materials. He marvelled at her creations every time he passed by, often stopping to buy a bouquet—sometimes just to strike up a conversation, sometimes just to be near her.

It was nearly closing time when she appeared in front of him, a bright smile spreading across her lips. Her hair was messy again, with leaves and colourful petals woven into it—likely by accident, as some softly drifted to the ground whenever she turned her head. 

"Hi, I'm your shop neighbour. Sorry for not introducing myself sooner; I had to unpack everything," she said, holding out her hand with a bright grin. "Lovely," Aemond thought as he shook her hand.

“I’ve been to your shop a few times. I should’ve introduced myself, too,” he mumbled sheepishly, a soft blush dusting his pale cheeks. His ears felt like they were on fire.

Her hand was so small compared to his, soft but marked with fresh scars—probably from working with thorny roses or other prickly flowers. She was always creating art, in any form or shape, and it showed.

Her voice was full of joy, and unlike so many others, she looked at him without a trace of disgust or discomfort. She didn’t flinch at his scar or the eyepatch. She didn’t even avoid his gaze, which most people did. She looked him straight in the eyes, seeing him as a whole person. A warm feeling washed over him at that realization—it had been so long since he’d felt this way.

“Oh! Yes, I remember you now. You always buy two bouquets at a time!” she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly with her hands. Her energy was infectious, Aemond noted, and despite the late hour, he felt more awake just watching her. “You must really like your life partner!”

His blush deepened, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “Something like that,” he mumbled, feeling the heat rise in his face.

Clearing his throat, he squared his shoulders, trying to regain his composure as he towered over her. But she only smiled more, undeterred by his flustered state.

“No problem,” he whispered gruffly, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He averted his eye, staring down at the cashier counter. Why was he so flustered?

“Can I look around? I know you’re closing soon, but this is the only time I can visit because of my shop hours,” she asked.

He nodded solemnly, and her grin widened as she skipped off into the depths of the bookshop. Aemond couldn’t help but stare after her, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest. His usual calm demeanour was slipping, and his hands were growing sweatier with every passing second.

He watched her roam through the aisles, her fingers gently brushing the spines of books. A soft smile played on her lips, and her eyes sparkled with the joy that seemed to radiate from her. Her skin looked smooth, her hands had been as soft as silk.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, with loose strands framing her face perfectly. He tried not to stare too much, but he couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful—radiant, even. The flower girl from next door.

It was no longer unusual for her to visit him after her shop’s closing hours. Since their first meeting, it had become routine, and Aemond didn’t mind keeping the shop open a little longer for her. He enjoyed the peace, but even more, he enjoyed her presence. She brought a sense of chaos and life into his dusty, meticulously ordered existence—something he had always carefully avoided, but now realized he needed.

This time, she told him in advance where she intended to wander, mindful not to repeat the incident from her first visit. That day, she had innocently ventured into one of the magical rooms, and Aemond hadn't heard from her for hours. Panic had set in when she failed to respond to his calls. By the time he found her, it was nearly midnight, and both of them had early mornings ahead. She explained that a door had appeared before her, opening on its own, and she hadn’t been able to resist stepping through.

Luckily, it was The Hidden Library she had found, a room Aemond knew like the back of his hand. The labyrinth of bookshelves had shifted, subtly aiding him in locating her more quickly than it usually would allow. Other rooms might not have been so kind, and Aemond had been relieved when he spotted her amidst the endless rows of books.

When he found her, she hadn’t been panicked or distressed. In fact, she had a stack of books balanced in her arms, her face lit with pure delight. "This is magnificent!" she had said, her voice filled with awe as she wandered between the ever-changing shelves.

His heart had pounded in his chest when he saw her, but not out of fear anymore. Something else stirred in him—his heart skipped, or maybe it leapt with joy, something akin to a yearning he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aemond was no stranger to intense emotions, but this was different. It wasn’t the fiery anger or the cold, bitter loneliness he was used to; this was warm, fluttering, almost sweet in its intensity.

Crushes were for middle schoolers, weren’t they? He tried to tell himself that, but there was no denying it anymore. Watching her flit through his magical bookshop with that infectious enthusiasm, her joy at discovering something new—it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in years. 

He stood there, watching her as she made her way through the aisles, completely at ease in the strange, shifting shop. She never seemed bothered by the oddities or the magic; if anything, it only seemed to fuel her curiosity and joy. And as much as he tried to keep his distance, Aemond couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

Maybe crushes weren't just for middle schoolers after all.

Aemond had never imagined he'd find himself standing in a magical greenhouse with the quirky flower shop owner next door, watching her flit between plants and books with the kind of excitement that only she seemed to possess. The realisation that he had a crush on her had grown stronger with every bouquet she brought him, each one slowly wilting or drying out under his care despite his best efforts.

When she playfully teased him about his inability to keep her gifts alive—remarking that she’d thought a magical shop would do the job for him—Aemond could only smile sheepishly. He had no explanation, other than perhaps his unfamiliarity with the deeper, older magics of the place. Maybe, he mused, if he had studied Valyrian magic more closely, he’d have been able to keep her flowers flourishing. 

Then one day, they found it—The Glass House. It appeared out of nowhere. He had restocked some sections of the shop while she was aimlessly wandering around again. His eyes sometimes drifted over to her. Watching her read passages out of books quietly. Making a note of which book she held longer so he could give it to her when he bought another bouquet from her.

They both turned into the same aisle when the door appeared right in front of them. Just right at the end of the rows of bookshelves where usually a wall was.

She stared at him with big eyes. “Is this normal?” She looked up at him with a bewildered expression. He nodded nonchalantly, he was used to it. “The bookshop likes to play.” She giggled gently at his deadpan words.

“Tell me more.” Her bright smile made his lips quirk up slightly. “Well, I don’t know how the magic works. The old owner couldn’t tell me either. But I found out the doors mirror the moods, likes and needs of the person standing in front of it.”

“Like the Room of Requirement?” Aemond snorted at her question. “More or less. The door stays and only disappears when it isn’t needed anymore. To make room for another door. A few doors had disappeared when my mentor died. It felt like the shop had mourned him.” 

He let his eyes wander over her face. To check if she understood what he was saying. She nodded lowly. She seemed to be deep in thought. Mulling over his words carefully. “There are multiple doors in the bookshop. Not one like in Harry Potter. Maybe even hidden ones. But most of the time they are prominent.”

She nodded softly. Looking at the door that had appeared in front of them. Vines seemed to wind around the wooden front like they were alive. Forming a large tree taking up nearly the whole door. To her, it seemed like the tree in the Nordic myth, Yggdrasil.  "So if I would go through one of those doors, it is like I would go through a portal. Like the wardrobe in Narnia?” Aemond snorted as he put another book onto a shelf, holding “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ” in his hands. Coincidence? In this shop, less likely.

“I see the shop more like the Tardis.” He mumbled. He was reaching up to restock the “Lord of the Rings” bundle packs back on the fantasy shelf. A classic he seems to run out of every week.

“Because the store seems small at first glance but it gets bigger with every new door opening?” She stood beside him, holding the stacks of Agatha Christi novels for him. “Yeah, like that.” He smiled at her, a rare occurrence that had happened more often since they spent time together. She hummed thoughtfully. “I like my Narnia reference more.” Aemond chuckled. “I am hurt.” He pouted playfully at her, making her giggle.

Suddenly the door opened next to her. She shrieked, which made him look up at her. His body was alarmed. Ready to fight whoever dared to scare her. He blushed slightly when he realised what he was thinking. And that he would fight a door for her.

Her fright was not long living. She was too curious to be scared for long. “I can make it up to you. Go on! Go inside and I follow you, Doctor.” He laughed gently. Putting away the last of crime mystery books before turning to the green door. “Well… Geronimo!” He mumbled playfully into her ear. Making her blush.

He turned the golden knop. With a gnarling sound, it slowly opened. A breeze of warm wind blew into their faces gently. 

Aemond held the door open for her to go inside. She shyly thanked him. Her eyes grew big at the sight of what lay behind the inconspicuous door. Aemond had to keep up with her as she rushed inside the door.

She stopped in the middle of the room. Her breathing hitched in her throat as she took in the room overgrown with lush green plants. Her smile reached up to her ears. Her small body vibrates from excitement. “Look! A greenhouse library!” He smiled as he watched her flitter around the room.

Strangely, it wasn’t as humid as a typical greenhouse. It was pleasantly warm or cool, depending on what they needed at the time. On either side of the house stood hip-high plant tables made of stone, filled with plants both known and unknown, their blooms and colourful leaves on display for visitors.

In one corner stood two cosy-looking emerald armchairs with a table between them. They looked so inviting as if they had been waiting for him and his companion. Friend? he wondered about what he should call his shop neighbour. His little flower girl? His heart pounded against his ribcage. What was he thinking? His little flower girl? She was barely his friend—acquaintances, maybe? Slowly he started to confuse himself, distracting him from marvelling and listening to her.

But his heart knew what his mind refused to admit: he wanted her. He wanted to explore his magical bookshop with her.

They moved on. Going into the garden section. She already held three books in her hand. Opening them at random pages to read them at the same time. It was an endearing sight he didn’t like to avert his eyes.

She talked animatedly about the various plants, suggesting that he put her half-dead flowers from the front of the shop in the Glass House so he wouldn’t be so sad when they died. She stopped short when she realized she was alone in another corner of the greenhouse, having abandoned the orchids to return to the centre of the room—back to the two emerald armchairs. Back to him.

The sight of her wide-eyed excitement as they entered The Glass House was enough to make Aemond's heart leap. Plants of all kinds surrounded them, lush greenery spilling over the stone plant tables. Despite the greenhouse setting, the air was a perfect balance of warmth and coolness, catering to their comfort. In the centre of the room were two emerald armchairs, an inviting sanctuary in the midst of the botanical splendour.

He watched her eagerly explore the space, picking up books on gardening and flipping through their pages with a joyful energy that he found utterly endearing. She chattered on about the plants, suggesting with a grin that maybe he could bring her dying bouquets here, where the magic could keep them alive.

Aemond was about to respond, but the words caught in his throat. His mind wandered to the sensation of her small, scarred hand in his earlier—a hand that had felt soft, delicate, and utterly natural in his. He couldn't stop the warmth that spread through him, a feeling he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with. What was she to him, really? His heart wanted to call her something more than just a shop neighbour or even a friend. Something like "his flower girl" seemed to fit, but it made his chest tighten with a strange kind of longing. 

As he stood there, lost in thought, he barely noticed her wandering off to the other side of The Glass House. He only snapped back to attention when he realized she had returned, her presence suddenly close again. She held out her hand, a playful glint in her eyes. "I saw another door opening," she said softly, her voice filled with excitement. "Your bookshop is telling me something. Want to come with me?"

He looked down at her outstretched hand, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Hesitation flashed briefly before he took her hand, its warmth seeping into his. “Let’s explore the rooms together, then,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with resolve.

She led him through the new door, and they entered a room unlike any other he had ever seen. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, filled with swirling stars, planets, and constellations that shimmered and moved like they were alive. The smell of ancient books filled the air, wrapping around them like a comforting, familiar blanket. It was peaceful, serene—a perfect contrast to the excitement they’d felt in The Glass House.

They both stood in silence for a moment, awestruck by the beauty of the room. Later, they would come to call it "The Sorcerer’s Room," convinced it had once belonged to a powerful wizard—a figure out of legend, someone like Merlin.

But for now, Aemond was content. Content to explore the wonders of his magical bookshop, not alone this time, but with her by his side. And more than the magic of the shop, it was her wide-eyed wonder and infectious joy that captivated him the most. As they wandered deeper into the room, he felt her hand tighten around his, and for the first time in a long while, he realized how much he enjoyed sharing this world with someone who made it feel even more magical.

Since the discovery of The Glass House and The Sorcerer’s Room, she had spent most of her time in both rooms—studying the plants or curling up in the emerald armchair to read. She looked like a cat when she did it.  

In The Sorcerer’s Room, she would lie on the floor and point out different constellations. He would lie next to her, hanging on to every word that left her lips.

“Black tea, steeped for nearly ten minutes with a dash of milk.” He set the large yellow cup with white daisies in front of her on the small coffee table. She smiled softly up at him.  

“Thank you,” she said. She had lost track of time as she read in the emerald chair in The Glass House, a blanket she had crocheted herself thrown over her lap. At his sweet gesture, her heart thudded harder against her rib cage.

His heart leapt again at her soft smile.  

“Am I here often enough now that you’ve already memorized my tea-drinking habits?” she chuckled softly.  

He grinned involuntarily. “It’s an odd way to drink tea,” he teased, “but I like odd things,” he wanted to add.

She giggled softly, making his heart flutter again, before taking a sip. She closed her eyes and let out a content hum.  

“Perfect,” she whispered, her bright eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the light in The Glass House, like stars sparkling in the night sky.

His body warmed at her smile. A rare smile crept across his own, thinner lips. He leaned slightly closer, inhaling the floral scent of her perfume—so fresh and light. He wanted to fall asleep with his face nestled in her neck, to wake up to her warmth every morning.

The realization hit him hard. His body grew tense, every muscle and fibre rigid as he looked down at her. His knees nearly buckled as he stared.  

Her perfect little smile haunted his dreams and every waking moment. Her eyes hypnotized him whenever they caught his gaze. She was an enchantress, though she didn’t know it.

He cleared his throat and sat down in the other emerald green armchair next to her, trying to focus on his book. But every five seconds, he lost his place, and after a few paragraphs, he had no idea what he had been reading.

The reason was clear: she, his shop neighbour. The sweet florist next door. A woman so kind and warm that he wanted to envelop her in his arms, keep her close, and never let her go.

He was growing possessive. He caught himself growling at male customers from time to time, surprising even himself. He had never acted like this before. Not with his ex, Alys, or with Floris, the girl he dated for one semester at university.

This was different—a deep, primal urge. To be close to her. To take care of her. To provide for her. To be hers, just as he wanted her to be his.

The more he thought about her, the more horrified he became at how deeply in love he had fallen. His heart raced, his hands grew sweaty, and they trembled lightly, clammy with nervous energy.

The most fatal mistake he made at that moment was looking over at her. His lone, piercing pale violet eye drank in her worried features.  

Strands of hair had fallen into her face, and he watched as her nose wrinkled slightly, one strand tickling it. Her bright eyes examined him carefully, her worry growing the longer he sat like a statue in the emerald armchair beside her.

“Everything alright, Aemond?” she asked, her voice soft. The sound of his name on her lips was enough to make him swoon. So sweet, so innocent.  

“Yes,” he rasped, clearing his throat. “All is well. Never been better.” He rambled, trying to regain his composure.

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unconvinced. He felt trapped, like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a predator. What was she doing to him?

He couldn’t keep feeling like this—trapped in his own body. It was a sensation he had tried to avoid since childhood, an unhealthy way to cope with anxiety. He knew that well enough.  

Aemond abruptly stood from the armchair and rushed out of the room into the main selling area of the bookshop, trying to hide between the shelves. But he could hear her soft footsteps following him. She had thrown the blanket aside and followed him as fast as her shorter legs could carry her. 

He tried to outrun her, taking sharp turns every few steps but suddenly stopped at a dead end. Cursing himself for not paying attention to his own shop’s layout, he glared at the wall. A part of him wished for a new door to appear so he could disappear, but nothing happened. The wall remained still, unmoving.  

She chased after him the best she could. Her legs were much shorter than his, and while he could take one step, she needed four to keep up. She tried anyway, her eyes fixed on him as he turned corners.

But one of his turns was too fast. He managed to shake her off, leaving her out of breath and disoriented. Her mind raced, trying to figure out where he had gone. Her gut told her to go left, but her head insisted on right.  

Finally, she found him, standing rigid at the dead end. His back stiffened as she approached. "Why are you running from me?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with confusion. He didn’t turn, as if trying to ignore her.

She stepped closer. "Did I do something wrong?"  

"No!" he immediately shot back. She jumped, startled by the suddenness of his response, a gasp escaping her lips.

Hearing the sound, he turned toward her. He had scared her—a thing he vowed he would never do. "I’m sorry," he murmured, reaching out, and she let him touch her arm. Her baby blue jumper felt soft under his hand. "I’m so sorry," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

"It’s alright," she said, stepping closer. "I’m just a jumpy person."  

She looked up at him, her eyes shining even in the dim light, like stars in the night sky.  

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered under his breath, but she heard it, smiling bashfully.  

"Thank you," she replied, her cheeks heating up.

They moved closer—toe to toe, chest to chest. Aemond looked down at her while she looked up.  

"You have beautiful eyes," she mumbled.  

"No, I don’t," he responded, his tone harsher than he intended.

She frowned at his self-deprecation. "They’re both unique in their own way, and I think they’re beautiful." Her protest was met with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

"Don’t tell me what to think," she said, glaring at him playfully.

He chuckled. "If you say so."  

She huffed in disbelief, frustrated by how low his self-esteem was. Words weren’t enough, so she let her actions speak for her. She leaned up and kissed him gently.

His breath caught in his throat as their lips met, and a tingling sensation swept over his body. Slowly, he pulled her closer by the waist, careful not to make her stumble. Her arms wrapped around his slim frame, her fingers digging into the wool of his jumper.

The kiss lingered, electric sensations running through both of them. Eyes closed, they held each other tightly. But eventually, they had to come up for air.  

Their chests heaved, eyes wide and pupils blown, but big grins spread across their swollen lips. They didn’t need words—silence spoke volumes, carrying more meaning than a thousand words ever could.

[johnbrand]

The Basement

With @next-pharaoh

“Richie?” Billy called out into the hazy basement. “Richie, are you down here?”

Billy had never thought of Richie as a religious kind-of-guy, nor a Muslim for that matter. What other reason would he have had to come down into the creepy, old mosque? Heck, Richie’s whole family was Catholic, the stereotypical devout Latin family. Billy’s too, although of a Polish heritage instead. That was probably why they had always gotten along so well–they could bond through trauma.

“Richie?” Billy asked once more. The basement was rather small, just a single room with a twin mattress, a few sheets, and a tiny window shining the bare minimum amount of sunlight into the space. The place was covered in dust, something Billy unfortunately had not noticed until he had patted down his all-black outfit, surprised to find it covered in the pale powder.

“Alright, that’s it,” Billy grumbled. “I can’t even get reception down here anyway.”

That was how this had all started. Billy had received an emergency text with a location from Richie that he had been locked and needed help. However, that text had taken over 24 hours to deliver. Billy had rushed over here as fast as he could, but now he could not find Richie anywhere. Perplexed, he made his way back to the basement’s door, not expecting to find it locked.

“No…” Billy spoke to no one in particular. “No, no no!”

Frantically, Billy pulled at the handle, hoping, praying that it would come off. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, it would not budge. It was times like these that he wished he would have participated in some athletics throughout his schooling career, rather than focusing on communications and the arts. 

“Hello!” Billy shouted, banging on the door. “Can anyone hear me?!” He grabbed his phone and quickly sent out a text to his friend, not surprised when it was unable to go through. Backing away from the door, Billy began to consider what he could do. Someone would have to find him eventually, right? Phones had tracking devices, so it would not take long before people questioned where he was. And the window, maybe from there he could-

“Oh-!” Clumsily, Billy fell back onto the twin bed, so preoccupied in his thoughts that he had not paid attention to his footing. The dust flew up in a cloud around him, slowly cascading over his body. The particles coated his sandy-colored hair and fair skin as if he had been hit by a bag of flour. A bit embarrassed, Billy coughed, inhaling some of the dust.

“Gosh, what is this stuff…?” Billy questioned, his head suddenly a bit dizzy. “Is it…powdered salt…?”

Slowly, Billy’s body fell back onto bed, an encroaching weariness enveloping him. Within moments, he was fast asleep while the dust began carefully absorbing into his being.

———

Rashid unlocked the door to the mosque’s basement. He already possessed the keys to the lock, and he knew not to reopen the door until at least daybreak. Well, at least not while the current convert is awake. It was necessary for Rashid to go in while the convert was resting to provide the necessary materials.

“Ah, I see you are awake,” the strong, proud Muslim announced in Arabic as he swung open the door. “And already studying the analysis of the Hadith book I provided you with.” 

“Yes, thank you brother,” the reply came back, also in Arabic.

“Do the pants fit you alright, Bilal?” Rashid asked. 

“They will carry the load.” With his massive hand, Bilal cupped his mighty Arab meat to emphasize his point. Rashid took a once over of Bilal, taking in the bronzed alpha and confirming the dimensions he had hypothesized in his head. Bilal was tall, muscular, a perfect specimen of Islamic masculinity. His chest would ideally slide into the thobe Rashid had ordered for him, and his wide feet would easily fill the Nike sandals Rashid had set aside.

“Now Bilal, are you ready to promote the genetic Arabization of the world?” Rashid demanded. “To defend Arab interests, to sacrifice individuality for global brotherhood?”

Bilal immediately nodded, his fate had already been sealed.

Rashid smiled, “I assume you have already left your past behind?”

Smirking, Bilal motioned his head towards the drying white splurge behind him. By the afternoon, it would become just another part of the basement’s transformative dust.

With a nod, Rashid ushered Bilal up, and the two made their way out of the basement and back into the mosque. They prayed together, feasted together, and were preparing to leave the mosque just as a frightened Asian-American boy rushed past them.

“Billy? Billy!” His shouts echoed throughout the hall as he dashed into the religious hallways. Rashid and Bilal exchanged knowing smiles. They held hands and bid farewell, the keys transferring between their hands.

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[vifilms]

hey baby, how’re you? so i just watched bound again, and i was thinking.. corky! ellie and violet! reader.. maybe? and ellie bends reader over counter, spanks her a little, straps her down while reader worries of her husband coming in. but ellie fucks her so good, she’s completely cockdrunk.. just maybe..

bound to fuck | ellie williams

tags: eighteen+, daddy kink, cheating, strap sex, slight voyeurism, degrading, kinda toxic!ellie, breeding kink.

an. i am ovulating and i finished a request in a reasonable amount of time! wowowowow. but hi baby! thank you for the request, i feel like i did a shit job, but i hope you enjoy it. anyways, i'm done starving my abby lovers. beefy blonde coming up next — pic credit.

wooden bookshelves, shelves with his favorite reads or at least presenting himself to be a man of literature. each book filed became decoration, pretty covers with a lot going on, but never something he could actually pick up. not quite deemed worth his time. always trapped in the responsibilities of his den but your husband keeps on a loose leash. truly, it’s his mistake. 

he’d been the one to hire her in the first place. a contractor needed to fix a few mishaps in the house and you couldn’t help yourself. no, not one bit. tattoos scattered randomly across her sun-kissed skin as if done on a whim, freckled shoulders exposed in the white tank top she wore. wet,auburn hair lightly styled with gel, a few strands framing full cheeks. from the first look, she became your nightmare. beautiful green eyes disguised in greed. 

it all happened so quickly, the heat of the moment taking a hold over any sense of responsibility. the sparkling diamond held weight but none in your heart, especially as she bent you over the white stone countertop. pants shoved down to your ankles, her cock wedged deep inside you as you stare at the oak door of your husband’s office just past the common room. 

“is this what you want? fucked like some type of whore, huh?” ellie smacks the fat of your ass, digging blunt nails into your unmarked skin. “last time wasn’t quite good enough. yeah, i know, baby. not very fun when you don’t get to come.” slender hips slam into you again as you whimper, touching a particular sensitive spot for you. 

“i’ve been so good, daddy. please, can i cum tonight?” ellie more than surprised with your manners. not even having to remind you of how to speak with her. you give in — granted, she’s already fucking you into another dimension. “i-i, c-can’t, fuck, s’hard to talk.” 

“and why is it sweetheart? can’t keep up?” ellie sends another slap to your ass, claiming the skin with her touch. gripping  your hips, she brings you back over her cock as her hips roll. “s’good for. yeah? always need daddy’s cock inside you. your husband can’t fucking satisfy you even if mine is made of plastic.” maliciously, she chuckles and you feel your cunt pulsate. crying for a release, practically begging. 

“ah—” you try to compose yourself but ellie shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. she pushes too far, sometimes. getting off to your crook husband in the other room, completely unaware his wife is getting fucked by the hired help. “els, stop being so cruel.” 

“hm, why so glum? it’s not like you actually give a fuck. pussy just needs to be filled by me. if you can’t fucking handle it, maybe you should grovel back to his medicore dick.” she leans over you, takes a breath before whispering in your ear. “what’s it gonna be, angel? want me to finish or want to go back to faking it?” 

meanwhile her pace is punishing, bringing you closer to the precipice of completion. slyly slipping her hand between your legs, toying with your clit as you gasp. “sh, baby. tell me what you want. want me to slip out and let him finish you off?” 

“fuck no.” softly, you moan her name. “want your cock, no one else’s.” 

“you sure? not afraid of being caught? could come at any moment.” the double innuendo is lost on you as you feel the familiar build in your stomach. “could spoil it, maybe. watch me as i fuck my pussy. your pussy belongs to me angel. daddy’s good girl, only mine.” 

the noise of your wet slick echoes, you know you’re close. ellie has gotten you there enough to know it too. “c’mon, i’ll do what the old fuck can’t. put a baby inside this pretty belly of yours. make sure you come home with me. forever knocked up and fucking mine.” you cum at her words, body twitching in bright white light. your vision blurred as you slump against the countertop. 

gently, she presses a kiss to the nape of you neck. your body heaving, attempting to catch your breath. “it’s okay, angel. s’good for me, yeah? mhm, s'alright. i got you.” her calloused hands smooth over your soft skin, taking her time to bring you back down to earth. “wanna go again?” 

you nod, glad she can’t see the stupid smile on your face. “better be loud this time. i mean it. you’re coming home with me tonight.” 

[allpiesforourown]

more hatman brainrot takeover incoming

sy was a normal dude before being transmigrated into the role of 'hatman', a role specifically meant to evoke sheer terror into the masses who are getting too close to seeing into the other dimensions of the world, and lbh has been trying to dissociate from his entire life's bs since he was old enough to sell drugs to dumbass college students so he could pay for his moms medicine (she still dies, and his dad showing up later to claim him as his heir does Not Help)

he's trying a new strain given to him by dear ol dad, who's big into fashion drugs himself, which is how lbh and hatman!sy meet for the first time, but sy being sy, he is Instantly Enamored by binghe's whole everything, and doesnt wanna give binghe even more trauma, so he doesnt really scare him, cue the beginning of a very confusing and erotic trip for binghe

binghe is now obsessed with the entity with the insanely green eyes who seems to only ever visit whenever binghe is trying to enter another plane of existence (only ever touching him gently when hes paralyzed, sometimes even lightly smacking him when binghe tries to ask questions in the tripscape, but his eyes are so kind, and binghe is so horny) which is precisely against Company Policy, and eventually somebody above sy figures out he's visiting the same victimtransgressor and threatens to demote sy from hatman to transdimensional paperpusher in the departed souls dimension

now sy has to figure out how to convince binghe that he's actually something to be feared, gives him a REAL fright (dumping binghe's mind into the abyss), and binghe being binghe, he's deeply upset by this shift after spending time getting to know sy and being treated so "sweetly", and spends the next 3 years tracking down anyone else online who has seen The Hatman so he can figure out why sy suddenly hates him and prove to the hatman that he's worth crossing over into their world for, even going so far as to invent a machine that will trap the hatman in the material world (at least until he fan figure out how to make him stay on his own)

it leads to a lot of the wrong hatmen being captured and sy getting into a lot of trouble with the higher ups who are trying to keep him and the rest of their operation from being found out, and it wouldve all gone according to plan, except binghe manages to successfully catch him while sy is visiting liu qingge, but not successfully enough create a corporeal form for him, and it leads to sy thinking binghe is doing this on purpose for torturing him

the delicious misunderstanding of it all~ gonna stop there for now cuz i havent thought of how they reconcile this shit but i need binghe and mobei jun to both get high together and mobei meets his own hatman sqh who ends up being more terrified of of mbj and gets harrassed into helping catch sy for binghe

Dude the world building here is INSANE I need you to make this a best selling book idea

[letoasai]

dp x dc Chronos

An idea that’s probably been touched on before but well.. once more! 

~

It had begun with a meltdown. Being a fifteen year old was tough. High school was the time in your life where you were picking up life skills without even knowing it. Social skills, study habits, responsibilities stacked on responsibilities. It all seemed rather unfair when their brains weren’t done developing yet or… whatever Jazz had been telling him one afternoon. 

The point was, being a teenager wasn’t all making memories and messing around. It was hard. Add on dying to that work load and things got complicated. Add on a ghost portal that allowed ghosts to come and go as they pleased when you were the only one that could safely stop them and things got stressful. 

Parents that were trying to kill you…went without saying. 

Become a king of a realm by fifteen, and see how you handle the sudden workload. Danny had been holding up fine, until he wasn’t. Until a particularly loud boom in his parents lab from whatever their latest torture invention was cause a tremor of fear to shoot up his spine. In an instant, panic was sparked. He wanted to leave, he thought about it often, but how could he just leave Amity Park behind? Would it be better outside of his parents house? Could he live alone?

The fear latched onto his core, and not being able to relax in his own haunt was apparently counterproductive to a healthy, happy halfa. 

Before dying, Danny hadn’t been familiar with panic attacks, now, they weren’t entirely uncommon. One moment he would be overthinking in his bedroom, the next he’d be on his bed or the floor curled up in a ball. Tears flowing and throat clogged, he would sob under the weight of his responsibilities in silence. He doubted his parents would notice, but he hated to worry his sister. Being quiet was a must.

It was one of these episodes that had led to Clockwork appearing in his room, lifting Danny up into his arms like a child without even a weak protest. A post-it was left for Jazz so she wouldn’t worry and the king was returned to the Infinite Realm for a night. 

That was the start of Danny spending time in Clockwork’s citadel any time he was feeling overwhelmed. Being outside of time, he was given the time to relax, sleep, or study. It lessened the burdens of trying to be a normal high school student, hero, and king all at once, or at least gave him a safe place to crash. 

At least once a week, Danny made his way into Clockwork’s lair, long since allowed to enter on a whim unless expressly told otherwise for a day or two. For all Danny was king, he did his best not to interrupt Clockwork’s work and he knew beings from other dimensions popped in from time to time. 

If Clockwork didn’t want him meeting them, he was going to take his opinion to heart and make himself scarce. 

Danny wasn’t sure why he got the privilege to hide behind the ghost of time but he didn’t shun the offer. Any chance to get some sleep was a good one when he had ghosts like Skulker or Johnny waking him up at three in the morning with their bullshit. 

Danny floated over a sofa, backpack forgotten on the floor and books hovering around him. The crown that hovered above his head kept going back and forth between being covered by ice or green flame. It seemed to do what it wanted like a living creature. 

Danny had his own room in the citadel now but he was positive the sofa was put in Clockwork’s viewing room just for him. 

He slept there more often than not. 

“Hey Clockwork.” Danny called. He’d be ignored if Clockwork was deep into peering into the past for future, but would otherwise get an answer. “Can i ask you a question?” 

In the time it took Clockwork to turn to face Danny, his age had altered subtly, five or ten years younger than middle aged. 

Danny had always thought Clockwork had three ages he shifted between. His child form, middle aged adult, and old man. The longer Danny stayed in the citadel though, he learned that wasn’t the case. 

He’d seen Clockwork go from an old man, to a man about twenty. He’d slowly shift younger and younger through his teens until he stopped in his child form. Danny had seen the opposite too. Clockwork as a young preteen growing into an adult in the span of a breath. Dark circles would appear under his eyes and laugh lines etched into his face of a much older man but Danny wouldn’t have called that form elderly. 

It was fascinating. 

“What can i do for you, Majesty?” Clockwork asked, a hint of a smile already curing his lips. He likely already had the conversation they were about to have memorized. 

Danny groaned. “Can’t you just call me Danny? Majesty is so… so…” 

“Accurate?” 

“Bleh…” Danny muttered, slowly floating until he was upside, but his book turned with him so he could continue to look at it. 

Clockwork only laughed at him, that soft noise that said he was amused at Danny’s plight, but Danny was far from offended by it. 

“You’re the master of time, right, but were you the god of time too?” He pointed at his textbook, crown on top of his head doing slow flips. “Chronos?” 

“Ah,” Clockwork chuckled, arms crossing over his chest. His de-aging had abruptly stopped and he instead started growing older again. “Indeed. We are the same.” 

“Really?” Danny perked up and went back to skimming his book while rotating in the air. The edges of his wispy hair were looking like smoke. “So you were an ancient Greek god? That’s cool.” 

“Yes and no.” Clockwork said with a shrug. “Time is a funny thing. I was there, of course but more in the capacity of their stories. I predate the Greeks.” 

“Huh,” Danny hummed, growing quiet again as he read a little more but Clockwork didn’t return to his parade viewing. He instead waited for Danny to continue. “So wait, you were one of the first… titans.” he read. “Cool.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork agreed, “That was a very long time ago now.” 

Danny quirked a brow at a line in the book and glanced back at Clockwork. “‘Destructive and all-devouring’, huh?” 

“I was young.” Clockwork agreed, not bothering to deny it. “We all have that phase.” 

“Uh huh… How did this rule of yours coincide with Pariah Dark?” 

Clockwork grew older still, his beard starting to grow. He also relaxed into a floating/sitting position. “They didn’t really. Much of what you are reading is a mortal human interpretation. If you think stories in your high school become exaggerated, you should hear the true origin stories of the ancients sometime.” 

Danny was snickering. “I’d actually like that but none of them like talking about stuff like that. Did you really eat your kids?”

“Something to that effect. I’m afraid i was not a very good father. I was at a very different place in my life then.” Clockwork said. He didn’t sound particularly proud of it, but he didn’t look broken- hearted either. 

Danny didn’t quite get it. Clockwork had basically been his ghost guardian long before he’d even known that was a thing. He probably would have just assumed Clockwork would make a good dad. Then again, being a ‘present’ dad was probably tough for the god of ‘time’. 

“Hm,” Danny hummed and flipped the page while floating right side up again. He rubbed at his face, the constellation freckles across his cheeks twinkling. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Danny muttered, clearly reading through a paragraph. 

Clockwork’s shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter. It wasn’t usually this easy to coax Danny into doing his homework. 

“You died. Zeus kills you. Did Zeus kill you? Your son?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a moment where Danny’s face warped into something like grief before it disappeared, suspicion forming in it’s place. “Did you know that was gonna happen? Did you let Zeus kill you to maintain a good time line? Did you know you’d just be the ghost master of time?” 

Clockwork just smiled and shrugged. 

“Ancients!” Danny cursed. “Are you serious? You were looking that far ahead already? Even then? That’s insane.” 

“I have not confirmed or denied anything. On the other hand, we all have our talents.” Clockwork mused. “Does this knowledge entertain you?” 

“I mean, it’s cool.” Danny muttered again. Clockwork wasn’t usually so chatty but he was more likely to tell him past things opposed to future things.

He went back to reading and Clockwork went back to his viewing clocks. It was only a few minutes before Danny spoke again. 

“The Elysian Islands. Are those in the Infinity Realm?” Danny asked, “They sound familiar.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork mused. “And before you ask, Zeus didn’t actually have anything to do with them and Pandora would get huffy at the mere mention of it.” 

“Are other gods in the infinite Realm?” 

“Some, but not many of the ones in your book there.” Clockwork said, twirling the staff in his hand. Danny could tell he was doing something along the time stream but Danny had no idea what and he didn’t ask. He was not looking to get sent on another timeline errand. “There are other places where they reside. Some even living. Those in the realm however, are your subjects.” 

“Oh.” Danny muttered, getting the same sour look he got when he was reminded he was king. 

Clockwork lowered his staff, done with his chore. He hovered closer to Danny now, ruffling his hair and dislodging his crown which spun around of its own accord on top of Danny’s head. The sentient accessory very much attached to its new wearer. “If there are any in the Infinite Realm who find you lacking, you need not pay them any mind. Pandora, Fright Knight, or Frostbite would be more than happy to deal with them. You have every right to be here.” 

Danny just grunted. Peer pressure was hard enough at school. It was worse in the Infinite Realm. “I’m not looking for fights.” 

“You do not need to prove yourself. You’ve done that enough. You must merely be you to succeed. You are balance, and balance in life will find you soon enough.” 

“Awe, you haven’t said anything cryptic to me all day. I was starting to get worried.” Danny muttered, a smile tugging. 

“I would never make you go without.” Clockwork said with a fond roll of his eyes. He was so old now that his beard nearly touched the floor. 

“Ancients forbid.” Danny muttered, snagging his book out of the air. “Wait, did you say there were some living? Wait.” His mind whirled to a previous school assignment. “Isn’t Wonder Woman’s dad supposed to be Zeus. Is Wonder Woman your granddaughter?” 

Clockwork just smiled and ruffled his hair again. “Don’t you have homework to finish?” 

“Oh Ancients! She is. Classic deflecting. Holy crap.” 

He let himself drop onto the sofa, over dramatic with his realization. “You have ties to the Justice League!” 

Clockwork did sigh that time. “A charming notion, i suppose.” 

“You’ve as good as admitted it!” Danny grinned, pleased to have learned something new. Had it been anyone else, he might have thought he learned something Clockwork didn’t want him to know. Clockwork knew everything though and only let slip what he wanted to. 

“You are a hero yourself, Danny. No need to be enamored with the League.” Clockwork turned to go back to work, eyes scanning screens before him. 

“Yeah but they’re real heroes.” Danny grumbled, opening his book again. Clockwork’s lack of response meant he wasn’t going to answer that line of thinking. “Fine…” 

The two of them were left in a comfortable silence for a few minutes more until Danny broke it himself. Even though Clockwork knew it was coming, he still jumped when Danny gasped harshly from excitement. 

“Saturn! You’re Saturn! Saturn is like, one of my top three favorite planets!” It was the pure joy on Danny’s face that had Clockwork laughing this time. 

“You would have a top three.” 

“Of course i do!” 

The door had been flung open for him to now talk about space and precisely why he had so many favorite planets specifically. Clockwork let him, happy to let one of his obsessions take its course. Talks about space banished all thoughts of the Justice League and ‘real heroes’. 

Danny knew he’d have to take his history books with a grain of salt. Eaten children or no...Clockwork had always been a good guardian to him. ~~ I might add on to this...  It’s almost like Danny was reading the same wiki page on Chronos that i was... lol 

Part 2  and Part 3 

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions.

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, so it would not be that far of a stretch in that vein for Ford to also explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening.

Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

I understand there are likely several varying reasons why Ford wouldn't want to tell Fiddleford about Bill, even if Ford DID know he was from a different dimension, however:

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature.

I'm not trying to say he would've actually fully revealed it to Fiddleford if this were the case, but I think the thought process around the concept of doing so would be different.

.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(A later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his prolonged abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

.

.

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

[mysumeow]

──YANDERE ACE DRABBLE

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is referred to with gendered terms like girl. Yandere Ace.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Headmage Crowley assures reader he found a way back home. Ace attempts to impede it.

ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 984

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Ace as a yandere is a thought that greatly amuses me. He's a silly mix between a tsun and a yandere which is kinda ironic within inself but I find the idea fun. I had this halfway written and today i decided to revisit it to finish it haha. I'm trying to finish the many drabbles I've abandoned D:

⸝⸝⸝

Ace holds on to his claim of him liking you only as a friend (... sort of) as if his life depended on it. Even if he sabotages any means of your escape from Twisted Wonderland.

First, he tries to make you doubt Crowley’s veracity.

“The headmage told you that? The headmage?” He repeated it slowly. “You’re trusting that guy after everything he has put you through?”

Headmage Crowley was, with little room for argument, not the most trustworthy person on this land. Yes, he has his instances of being helpful, but you can count the number of said instances on your fingers.

That’s why Ace’s concern didn’t seem too far-fetched to you.

“I could at least try it.” However, you were dreaming of returning home from the first time you sat foot in this place. You couldn’t just give up like that.

“What if it fails and it kills you?”

The weight with which he blurted those words took you off guard—he’d said them with absolute conviction.

“Are you... perhaps worried about me?”

“You’re a naïve, magicless girl who knows nothing of this world. I’m simply looking out for you,” he was quick to retort, as if offended by your conclusion. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me,” you teased him. “You’re such a good friend, Ace.” you reached out to pinch his cheek.

“I’m not,” he swatted your hand away, both tips of his ears and cheeks growing red. “Geez, you can be annoying sometimes.”

Used to his attitude, you just chuckled at his response. You couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in this stupid college was at this level of emotional constipation. And if not everyone, a good portion of the student body wasn’t an exception.

Ace racked his brain trying to convince you to stay. He couldn’t waltz into the Magic Mirror’s chambers like he owned the place and destroy it, nor could he threaten the headmage. All he had left was to convince you not to go back to your world. Or implant fear into the fatal what-ifs of the mirror malfunctioning. Deceive you.

His words were half truths. Yes, there were a couple of cases of the mirror sending living beings into another dimension, but they were presumably dead since the subjects never reported back, nor did they send any signal of making it out alive.

But it was a long, long time ago. Maybe millennia. Since then, the arts of magic have strengthened and perfected, minimizing the margin of error. It was plausible for the headmage to have found an irrefutable way back to your universe.

A fact Ace didn’t like one bit. To the point he sneaked into Professor Trein’s office and seized one of those old dust-covered books that archived many accidents that happened because of the mirror.

Sleepovers at Ramshackle happen often enough for Riddle to not even bat an eye when Ace must report to him that he’s going to spend the night over there.

“Oh, do come back with this homework done, Trappola,” Riddle dropped the pile of textbooks on Ace’s awaiting palms. Of course, much to Ace’s dismay. “I’ll personally revise it and do corrections if needed. Am I not such a great housewarden?”

Ace had a couple of thoughts that would differ from that claim, but he nodded along, not fond of the idea of getting collared.

The next step of his plan consisted of roping Deuce into lying to you as well. It wouldn’t be easy, given that he tended to be more sincere (in comparison to himself)... However, no matter how much Deuce attempted to be a goody two shoes, the fact that the news of you going back home would devastate him increased the chances of it being easier to convince him.

Ace surmised such, at least.

“Leaving? The headmage actually found a way to…?” Deuce trailed off, an evident ache within his chest. After some contemplation, Deuce accepted the inevitable. Deep down, he knew the day would arrive. Eventually. Although he’d hoped for it to be later. “I-I’m glad about it! I really am. You know how important of a deal that is.” To go back to where you belong and see your loved ones…

“That’s not the point, Deuce.”

“Then which is it?”

“The problem is that you both are blindly trusting that headmage’s word. Everybody knows how unreliable he can be. Don’t you think so?”

Deuce opened his mouth to refute; yet the longer he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any good argument.

“Well, Crowley can be reliable. Sometimes.”

Ace’s lack of conviction was evident in his deadpan expression.

“Are we talking about the same guy? The one who abandons us to our own devices during hardships? The one who made the prefect deal with these past overblots? A magicless student, at that.”

“Okay, fine. I get it. You’ve got a good point there. What should we do, then?”

“We’ve got to convince the prefect to not head into the mirror. I borrowed a book. It contains logs of past attempts to send people back through it. None of them successful.”

Deuce eyed the book. “Those happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but the prefect doesn’t need to know that detail, duh!” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Ace—” Deuce caught the meaning behind Ace’s words, and, as much as he wished for your friendship to not come to an end, there was a voice nagging him at the back of his mind. “We can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a wimp about it.”

Deuce clenched his fist. “Hey!”

“And we’re not doing this for ourselves—we’re doing this for the safety of our prefect.”

Despite a certain sense of doubt pestering him, that was enough convincing for Deuce. This wasn’t for himself or for Ace. It was for you.

Yes, that’s the sole reason. He assured himself.

[koolades-world]

Moments under the mistletoe

Lucifer

you got him while he was at his desk, working on some last minute paperwork. you could tell he was getting worn out and anticipating his well deserved day off

after creeping up behind him with the mistletoe hidden behind you, you hug him from behind and cover his eyes

he sighs knowingly and plays your little game since he needs this break

instead of your usual antics, you surprise him by dangling the mistletoe over the both of your heads and sneaking a kiss on his cheek

before you could pull away, he catches the back of your head and presses a kiss to your lips, telling you he'll be out in five minutes

Mammon

he got you while you were making a quick late night meal for the two of you after you got back from a night out

he wasn't really hiding, more so just hanging next to you and handing you things you needed

since the kitchen wasn't exactly small he vanished for a moment after you asked him to pass you something

you assumed he was just looking for that thing but instead he gave you a shy smooch and only after you realized that he had mistletoe afterwards

you giggled and called him cute, to which he protested and actually passed you what you needed

Levi

you got him in one of the few rare moments he happened to be outside his room, making you plan much easier to execute

he was on the couch in the living room, playing a game on his DDD

you grab the mistletoe and jump onto the couch beside him

he doesn't look up which is all according to plan. while he's distracted, you hold the mistletoe over his head and kiss his temple

after that you vanish, making you kiss and run plan a success. he was left a blushing puddle

Satan

you got him while the two of you were cuddling. he was reading a book and you were just enjoy his embrace while petting his hair

the surprise wasn't planning but since he had it sitting nearby you couldn't help but pass up the opportunity

after reaching just over his shoulder, you let it swing over your heads

he quickly realized what you were up to as soon as you moved and let you give him as many kisses as you want as long as he was allowed to give the same amount back

the mistletoe was soon forgotten <3

Asmo

he got you in the most creative way possible, at least that's what you thought

he had actually attached the mistletoe to a headband with some wire to keep it between your heads

he chased you around for a while with that headband on while you playfully ran away, but eventually you caved since he was so persistent

when you asked why he made it, he said it was so he wouldn't need to use a hand to hold it up when that hand could be doing something more important

he also said it kept his brothers away from him, and by default, you

Beel

you got him while the two of you were out on a date

you were hanging off his arm, pointing at various window displays while simultaneously snuggling close to him since it was cold

one of the displays had mistletoe hanging over them, likely to get couples like the two of you on purpose

you guided him over to it on the pretense of checking out what was inside

you asked him to lean down, which he did without question, so you could give him kiss. he was pleasantly surprised and asked for another one

Belphie

he got you with this weird pocket dimension-esque mistletoe he always seemed to have

he got you so many times and made the mistletoe vanish afterwards

the one time you tried to catch him, he was just quicker. he whipped it out, kissed your forehead

as you reached up to grab it, he held it just out of your reach, brushed it against your fingertips, then pockets it

he laughed as you then stuck your hands into your pockets but found nothing. he saw this as an opportunity to kiss you more while you were occupied, but you couldn't object

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Epilogue

??? x ALPHA!READER

Summary: Having spent so long choosing their second life, the MC is finally rewarded and gets to live their second life. The only questioning remaining was... Itachi or Kakashi. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple Naruto Characters

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: N-sfw content, tiny self-harm for magical blood potion purposes. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: And we're finally here! This is the end, and I hope people like it, even if you'd have preferred the other character. This has been a journey and a half, thank you so much for joining me on it. Merry Christmas to those that celebrate! I am deeply honoured to call @omeganronpa my friend, and seeing as I'm too far away to be around in person, I hope that this gets my message across as well as I had hoped 💗💓💞💖❣️

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

James found herself lingering in the library when she knew she ought not to. She had just sent another human into their chosen pocket dimension, this time a historical romance, and she really needed to get back to her office to receive the next one. She knew this, and yet her feet refused to co-operate.

She couldn’t stop wondering after the human alpha she had recently worked with, although she wasn’t sure if humans would agree with her use of the word ‘recent’. They didn’t normally, and James had learnt that time flowed differently for humans than it did for Curators.

No, her mind was behaving badly. It was wandering off without her permission and whispering suggestions of going to check on the human alpha, even though James’ shift was still far from over.

Before she could think better of it, James turned and started walking towards the hidden backroom of the library, where books that were in current use were stored. Surely, it would be okay for her to have a little look at what that human alpha was up to. She would only linger for a little while and then she would get back to work.

She entered the backroom and scanned the shelves for the correct book. It wasn’t difficult to find, but she suddenly felt nervous. It wasn’t as if Curators weren’t allowed to watch the pocket dimensions, in fact, she knew several of her peers who did so regularly, but James had never felt the urge.

Until now.

“Just a quick peek, then I’ll greet my next human.” She opened the book and put it into viewing mode.

...

Ugh, you really shouldn’t have bought this much stuff. You juggled the shopping bags awkwardly, but persevered forwards as best as you could. It wasn’t your fault that there was a sale on today, how could you resist getting an entire bag of fresh peaches? You wondered if you could figure out how to make peach lemonade. It was the height of summer and a refreshing drink sounded like heaven right about now.

At least your new sandals were working well. They had been a gift from your parents when they returned from their business trip, and they were as cool as they were durable.

You dodged around a bush so that the branches didn’t abduct any of your shopping, grateful that you were getting used to this route now. Although you had grown up in the area, you had never really had a reason to stray this far. Of course, not until you met him.

Ugh, him. He was perfect. No, he was beyond perfect.

You had found him by chance, and the first few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you knew, more than anything, that he was perfect for you.

And there he was, in all his perfection, as you finally reached your home.

Itachi.

He was standing in the chicken run, his long, dark hair swept up out of his face in a more stringent ponytail than normal. You had helped him with it before you left, after his fringe kept getting stuck to his skin. He was wearing a pair of incredibly short shorts, and a loose T-shirt that always fell away from his chest whenever he bent over. It was a personal favourite of yours, but one that you never let him wear outside of your own home.

Itachi must have heard you, because he turned, a grin lighting up his face. You could see he had a smudge of mud on the swell of his left cheek.

Itachi was utterly stunning. He took your breath away effortlessly, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alpha!” he called, lifting one hand up in a wave. “Look!”

It took you a moment to understand what he wanted you to look at, but you eventually realised that he wasn’t waving; he was clutching two chicken eggs.

“Amazing!” you called back, approaching the back gate, but stopping at the fence as you realised you didn’t have free hands to unlock it.

“The chickens are finally old enough to lay eggs!” Itachi was practically beaming as he exited the run. A couple of chickens attempted to make an escape, but Itachi flicked his fingers and gently knocked them back with magic. “Look!” He came right up to you now, letting you into the garden, and holding the eggs in front of your face.

“That’s brilliant, ‘tachi. Why don’t you help me get all this unpacked inside, and we can cook the eggs for some lunch. I have some peaches and lemons for lemonade, too.”

You both headed into the kitchen through the back door. You dumped everything on the table and gratefully slumped into a chair, thankful to be out of the hot sun. Itachi practically floated around the kitchen, still beaming. He unpacked what he needed and immediately started making lunch. He settled on shakshuka with the fated peach lemonade.

It was with great amusement that you watched Itachi don his cooking apron, the one you’d specially embroidered with ‘Proud Chicken Oma’.

After you had cooled down a little, you slowly unpacked the rest of the shopping, until Itachi called you over to the oven.

“I’m going to fry the eggs,” he said, sounding giddy. You had known that he wanted chickens, you did too, but the genuine joy that they gave him still surprised you. You felt so incredibly lucky that you had literally wandered into his life by accident, and that he had allowed you to stay.

“Let me watch.” You hugged him from behind and peered over his shoulder. And if you also took a quick sneaky look down his shirt while you were there, well, no one could prove it. It was probably too hot for hugs, but you couldn’t make yourself let go. You nuzzled into the area where you would one day put your bond mark, but for now lay unbroken skin.

Itachi wanted you to meet each other’s families before you properly bonded. Hopefully that day would come sooner rather than later, because having him walk around without your claim was driving you mad.

Itachi cracked the egg into the pan, and perhaps you were too much of a sappy romantic, but the lucky double yolk that it contained felt symbolic.

…

The silence was thick enough to cut. You took a sip of your tea to try and stave off the awkwardness, but it didn’t help.

You were sitting at your kitchen table with Itachi and his parents. Sasuke had been sent out to collect some eggs, most likely so Fugaku and Mikoto could talk to you alone, but even now that Sasuke was firmly outside, the silence remained heavy and oppressive.

“How long have you known each other?” Fugaku asked, finally breaking it.

“A few months, father.” Fugaku’s lips tightened and the lines around his eyes deepened. You got the vibe that he wasn’t happy with that answer. It was such a shame that Itachi cared about their opinions.

“And how did you meet?”

You cleared your throat, “Itachi found me unconscious in a snowstorm and nursed me back to health.”

There was a beat of silence, before Mikoto spoke. “Then you owe my son a life debt, you would do well to remember that.”

You were really getting the vibe that they didn’t like you. It was for that reason, that you hastened to reassure them that you had been looking after Itachi as well.

“Oh! Well, I returned the favour by giving Itachi my cloak when all his clothes were destroyed in the middle of the woods.”

Itachi immediately went red faced, and held up his hands, sputtering. Oh, whoops. That definitely sounded like you had been fucking in the woods. Of course, you had actually fucked in those woods, but that wasn’t what you meant to share with his parents of all people.

“We didn’t—It was an Amplexus plant!” Itachi explained hurriedly, his face continuing to darken. “I needed the seeds for a potion, and it got a hold of me, that’s all!”

Itachi’s panicked explanation broke the tension, as his mother started giggling, and his father sighed and put his face in his palm.

“Sasuke is our only hope,” Fugaku muttered.

It was at that moment that a squawk sounded from outside. Sasuke’s dulcet tones followed shortly afterwards.

“Try that again, you glorified rat, and I’ll burn off all your feathers, I fucking mean it, I—”

Fugaku sighed again and downed the rest of his tea like it was the alcohol he clearly needed.

…

There was no sweeter smell in the world than the one of yours and Itachi’s scents mingling together. And while you were certain many other alphas would say the same about them and their omegas, you were pretty sure you were right.

You panted onto Itachi’s neck, basically drooling. A joint heat and rut wasn’t the greatest for practical reasons, but fuck, if it wasn’t the perfect time to exchange mating bites.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Itachi slurred, hips rocking up to meet yours at every thrust. “Bite me, alpha, claim me, please!”

You groaned, knot already catching on his rim. It was getting harder and harder to control yourself. Itachi mouthed at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, the place where he would soon be placing your bite, and your self-control collapsed like a house of cards.

Your knot tied you and Itachi together, plunging you both into an orgasm. Somewhere, through the haze, your teeth managed to find their mark. You bit down just as you started filling Itachi with your cum. Itachi seized but managed to bite back.

You rode the waves together. It was the longest orgasm of your life, and by far the most powerful. Your mind was clouded with lust and emotion. Every instinct in your body was screaming, but they were all screaming different things; it was making you dizzy.

Protect him.

Make him scream.

Get him pregnant.

Hide him away.

Show him off.

Love him. Love him. Love him.

Yes, yes, you were going to love him, you did love him… And everything was going to be perfect.

…

You ran out of your joint bedroom potions lab barefoot, having abandoned your slippers in your haste.

“Itachi! There’s been an incident!”

You heard a crash from the kitchen, and quickly, Itachi came racing out to meet you in the living room.

“What is it? What’s going on?!” He scanned you from head to toe but couldn’t see an injury. He had known that you were playing with magic, and he was rightfully worried about what you had managed to do.

“It’s gone,” you said, wide eyed.

“What’s gone?!”

“My dick.”

Itachi blinked at you, processing, before his face morphed into something horrified.

“What? How can—?! What were you doing?! What do you mean gone?!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you roughly. “Tell me what happened!”

“I was just playing around and then suddenly it was gone,” you explained, wringing your hands.

“What spell did you use?” Itachi asked frantically. “I can reverse it. We can figure it out!”

“I don’t know… I mean, at least I’m still alive right? It could have been worse.”

Itachi was still horrified, and you’d wager that he didn’t agree with you.

“No! I mean, yes, but we still need to fix it. Let me see!” He knelt down and started to aggressively tug down your shorts and underwear. “Maybe I can perform a reversal of—”

He managed to get the fabric down and out popped your dick, unharmed and just as it always was. Itachi blinked at it. You started cracking up, unable to hold the laughter in anymore. Itachi, realising that he’d been pranked, scowled at you.

He stood, crossing his arms and huffing. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was,” you laughed, wiping away your tears. “You’re completely obsessed with my dick, I knew it! I’m just a glorified dildo to you, huh?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Itachi had delightfully rosy cheeks.

“Am I? So, you don’t want to suck it?” You playfully shook your hips, wiggling your dick, playfully.

Itachi wavered. You waited patiently.

“This has nothing to do with anything,” he said, kneeling down in front of you.

“Whatever you say, darling.”

“Shut up!”

He was so much fun to tease. Hopefully, he never found out that you had the same obsession with his nipples.

…

“We do need more space, but I still want to maintain that cosy vibe, you know?”

“I agree. We could always increase the number of rooms, but still have them all be fairly small and closed off.”

You and Itachi were pouring over several sketches, trying to design your new home. You had decided to move closer to the nearest town, although you were still staying firmly in the woods because neither of you wanted to give up your private sanctuary. You also just needed more space. You needed a bigger dining table, more bedrooms, a separate potions lab, and crucially more storage space so that you didn’t come across snake eyes in the fridge when you were trying to make a sandwich.

Thankfully, with Itachi’s magic, the local builders, and the money sent from your parents, it was sure to be a smooth process.

“I think we should have a bedroom for Sasuke to use,” you said, tapping on an empty part of the proposed floorplan. “Not just a guest bedroom, but one that’s specifically his.”

Itachi nuzzled into your shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind? Because that would be amazing.”

“Of course not. He’ll be old enough to visit on his own soon, and I want to make sure he knows he’s welcome.” You liked Sasuke and you understood why Itachi loved him so much. He was like a tiny murder kitten that loved to scratch people. It was adorable.

“We have the pup rooms, the lab…” Itachi peered down at the paper. “Is that everything?”

You hummed, considering. “I think so. Unless you want a nesting room. Although, I’ve never seen you nest before, so if you don’t want one, that’s fine.”

“Oh.” Itachi was silent for a moment. “I’ve never tried nesting before.”

You immediately wished his parents would return so you could punch them in the face. Carefully keeping all the anger below the surface so you didn’t make Itachi think you were angry with him, you brushed some hair out of his face.

“Do you want to try it? We can try together, and if you like it, we can get a little nesting space added onto the master bedroom.”

Itachi smiled, looking unsure. “Okay. I suppose we can try it.”

…

“Well, I’m not an expert, but I think I can help with a simple nest layout.” You leant back and surveyed all the materials you had for nesting. Most of it was stuff that Itachi had made, some of it was things you had made, and a couple of pieces were from a craftsperson in town, made from rarer and more difficult materials. There was more than enough for a nice nest.

You slotted the heaviest duty and flattest pillows into the corner and arranged them in a double layer before securing them together with a sheet.

“One of my old partners used to arrange the base like this. It works well.”

Itachi growled and immediately destroyed the base, stacking it in a different way. Oh, yeah, whoops. Itachi was way too possessive for you to casually be bringing up old partners.

 “You’ve had other omega partners?” he asked, still rearranging the base. His voice was carefully controlled, like he was trying to sound distracted, when in reality, his attention was fully on your answer.

“Yeah, I—” You paused, trying to retrieve the memories. It was strange… You could have sworn you had past partners but trying to grasp onto details felt like trying to catch smoke. You could see flashes of dates, gifts and physical features, but you couldn’t really make sense of it. You wondered if it was a side effect of the amnesia spell you’d had. You decided not to mention it in case Itachi got worried. “I’ve had a couple, but they didn’t go anywhere. It never felt right, y’know?”

Itachi hummed, reasonably placated.

You continued to help him with small suggestions until you recognised the signs of an omega in nest building mode. Instincts took over, and you leant back to let Itachi do it how he wanted to.

The nest was so very him, even for his first attempt. It was chaos, but organised chaos, with gentle colours and neutrals, and lots of wool.

 Itachi sat back, blinking the daze away. “Now what?”

“Now you get in it.”

“And… what’s the point? What will being in it do?” He was staring at the nest reverently, and you knew he was going to like it.

“It should help you relax.”

Itachi bit his lip, but gingerly climbed in and tried to get himself comfortable. He fiddled with a few final pieces, but once he was settled, he sighed, seeming content.

After a few moments, he looked over at you. “Do you… want to come in, too?”

You grinned, and agreed, carefully climbing in and spooning your omega.

With you there with him, Itachi curled his legs up to his chest and went boneless. His purrs were so loud that you could feel them in your chest, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He nuzzled into the pillow his head was on, basking in the soft materials.

You kept holding him but tried to remain still so as to not disturb his first nesting experience. You didn’t want to distract him from his bliss. You were honestly so shocked that he had never nested before. Had his family kept him so busy from such a young age that he had never had the time?

You made a mental note to see if you could add a nesting nook for Sasuke’s room too, seeing as he was also an omega and had probably received similar treatment. If he couldn’t have one at home, at least he could have one here.

Suddenly, Itachi stopped purring.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you cooed, gently stroking his hair. “We can fix whatever it is, I promise.”

Itachi only whined, pushing his hips back into yours. He seemed really out of it, not that that was particularly surprising. If he’d been repressing himself, knowingly or not, for his entire life, then his instincts were going to try and take over the second they could.

“What do you need, omega? Come on, tell alpha.”

Itachi pouted, whining again. He shoved his hips back harder this time, like he was making a point. Oh.

“I see.” Your mind was racing at how hot he was. “Do you want to cockwarm, honey?”

Itachi nodded, his purring starting back up again now that you were understanding him. Oh, he was just the sweetest, horniest little thing and you would set the world on fire for him.

You carefully untucked your already half-hard cock, trying to avoid knocking anything out of place. When you were free, you tugged his trousers down and easily slipped inside him.

When your hips met his skin, Itachi purred louder than he had before, melting into the nest completely. His eyes rolled back, and he was lost in the fuzziness.

Okay… so you definitely needed that nesting room.

…

You looked around your new living room proudly, savouring the ‘new’ smell. The entire house was perfect. It kept the essence of the old one, but you had so much more space. No more tripping over cauldrons in the morning, or accidentally spilling powdered bone on the carpet when you were trying to clean.

You were almost finished with the unpacking. The house still seemed pretty empty, but that was good; the house would be able to grow with you.

Itachi had scurried off into the bedroom a few minutes ago with one of the boxes, but you were still sorting through living room stuff. You peered into the nearest box. And kitchen stuff apparently. Why did you own so many wooden spoons?

“Alpha?! Can you come help me with something, please?!” Itachi called from the bedroom.

You stood up, stretching out your sore arms, and then went over to the master bedroom. You pushed open the door easily.

“What do you ne—”

Suddenly, you were reminded of the very first time you had ever walked into Itachi’s bedroom in the old house, the time where he had been half naked and in the middle of changing.

Here, he was half-naked again, but this time it looked purposeful, because Itachi was wearing lingerie.

It was a two-piece set, made out of a dark blue silk that perfectly contrasted against Itachi’s pale skin. Embroidered on it were hundreds of tiny, silver stars, creating the image of a night’s sky. Extra pieces of gauzy, see through fabric had been attached to the top piece, which hide absolutely nothing, but acted as a delightful tease. The set was clearly hand made, and damn, he was again, taking your breath away.

“Well, hello,” you cooed, feeling that stupid horny alpha grin slide onto your face. “What’s all this?”

Itachi fidgeted bashfully as you approached. “It’s a surprise, a celebration for the new house.”

“It’s a lovely surprise.” You ran your hands over his heated skin, feeling the silk with your palms. You kissed him heavily, your fingers dancing along the edge of his panties. “This is perfect for the new house, do you know why?”

“Hm? Why?” Itachi moaned, tilting his neck submissively, and giving you access to his bond mark. You nipped around the scar before answering.

“Because we still need to break in the new bed.”

…

“That will be 500 ryo, thank you.” The man handed you the requested amount and took the pouch of amethyst dust in return.

“How many enchanted apples for these?” a little boy asked, holding up a lovely bouquet of flowers. Oh yes, he was the florist’s son, you remembered.  

“Hmm,” you took the flowers and appraised them. “How about three?” The boy nodded enthusiastically and grabbed three apples before running home. These flowers would be a lovely surprise for Itachi.

“Do you have any more of the inflammation potions?” an old man asked, approaching the store. You recognised him immediately and put the flowers down, ready for a likely lengthy and completely inappropriate discussion. “They’re great for the old joints.”

“We have three left. How many would you like?”

“I’ll take the lot, thank you.” You wrapped the order up and passed it over. He handed you money in return. “Thank you. There’s a lot of downsides to getting old, but the joint pain is the worst of it in my opinion. At least I don’t have to put up with heats anymore. They’re great fun when you’re young, but when your back starts to go, well, you find yourself wishing them away.”

You hummed politely.

“This is why it’s so important for alphas to hone their skills in bed. I can’t count the number of times a young alpha has believed they don’t need to worry about sex skills because an omega in heat is so far gone that everything feels good, but one day the heats will stop, and besides, some of the best sex happens outside of heats and ruts and all that nonsense.”

You laughed, shaking your head. Why did your market stall always attract the weirdest advice and clientele?

“I’d wager you know all about that though. Has Itachi come home with any surprises lately?” You must have looked surprised, because the man winked. “Who do you think taught him how to embroider silk?”

You snorted. Of course. You made sure to slip a complimentary headache potion in as a thank you.

…

“The bedding is all fresh and clean, we bought it especially, and this blanket, I knitted it for you so you’d be warm, it can get cold out here. Oh! And also—”

“I’m fine,” Sasuke said, a slight red flush on his cheeks. “You worry too much, big brother.”

You watched from the doorway as Itachi fussed over Sasuke. Now 14, he was old enough to make the journey here on his own, and this would be the first time he was making proper use of his room. Itachi had been driving himself crazy trying to make everything perfect. You reckoned he was trying to ensure Sasuke had a good enough time that he’d want to come back.

Itachi’s face screwed up in indecision. “Maybe I should get another blanket for you, just in case.”

“Brother—” Too late. Itachi left the room to grab another blanket, leaving you and Sasuke alone. He glared at you harshly. Oh dear, here came the kitten claws.

“I know several spells that would remove all the parts needed to make sure you never touch my brother again. Just saying.” Sasuke crossed his arms and tried to look threatening. You had to try to keep your giggles under controls.

“Itachi wouldn’t like that very much,” you said lightly, remembering his reaction to your ‘I accidentally spelled my dick away’ prank. “And besides, that would be a very rude thing to do to the person hosting you.”

Sasuke growled, but you only raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s going on?” Itachi walked in, another blanket bundled up in his arms.

You immediately snitched. “Your brother is threatening to cut my dick off.”

Itachi gasped, “Sasuke!”

Sasuke glared at you, but you only stuck your tongue out at him. You were seriously looking forward to the next week.

…

“So!” you clapped your hands together and looked eagerly around at all the potion supplies. “What potion am I learning today?”

You had been having Itachi teach you magic since you moved in, and while you were hardly a prodigy like him and his brother, you were starting to get decent at it, especially potions.

“It’s a pretty simple one, but it requires exact temperature control,” Itachi explained, pulling over a small cauldron. “We’ll need to use runes to manage that.”

“Exciting,” you murmured, trying to recall which runes would work best for temperature control. Probably the same ones that Itachi carved on your hot chocolate mugs. “What does the potion do?”

Itachi smiled, “You’ll see when we’re done.”

“Nooo, Itachi,” you whined. “I want to know now.”

“Later, I promise.” He laughed as you pouted and starting rattling off the ingredients list. “Now, help me crush the beans.”

Time passed quickly as you concentrated on following the potion recipe as best as you could. Before long, it was a blinding white and gently steaming, just as the drawing on the recipe showed.

“It’s ready,” you said proudly, closing the lid on the jar of moss. “Now will you tell me what it does?”

“It needs some blood to work,” Itachi explained. He grabbed a sharp knife and held it to his finger.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Could my blood work instead?”

Itachi laughed lightly. “That wouldn’t work; it has to be me. Don’t worry, it will only be the slightest prick.”

You weren’t happy, but you allowed it, and two drops of Itachi’s blood fell into the cauldron. It immediately started bubbling.

“What’s supposed to happen?”

“Well, it will turn one of two colours.” Itachi leaned over the cauldron and watched intently. “Gold or black.” As he spoke the potion turned to a brilliant gold and Itachi beamed.

“What does gold mean?” you asked, wishing he would just explain what this potion was already.

“Gold means that the person who donated the blood is pregnant.”

“Right, okay, and what does black mea— Hang on, what did you say?”

“I’m pregnant,” he clarified, watching your reaction.

You swallowed heavily, “What?”

Itachi giggled, “I’m not going to say it again.”

“Holy shit.” Your brain blue screened for a moment, before it rebooted, and the phrase properly sank into your brain.

Itachi was pregnant. Pregnant. As in, there would shortly be a baby, your baby, and his baby.

“I love you,” you blurted out, wide eyed. “We are going to need so much baby stuff.”

Itachi laughed, tearing up. “We’ll figure it out.”

…

“You can do it, Daiki! Come on baby, walk to appa!” You were crouched on the floor, arms open and ready.

Daiki gave a little pup whine, but still tried, toddling over on unstable steps. He managed to get three good steps in before he fell into your arms.  You caught him easily.

“Whoo! Look at that! You’re such a clever pup, isn’t that right?” You lifted up your baby and blew a raspberry on his stomach, dissolving him into giggles. Daiki did some proud wiggles as you put him back down, glancing over at Itachi for positive attention as well.

Itachi smiled, eyes glazed with sickness, from his position laying on the sofa. “Good job, baby.”

Daiki squealed, grinning and shoving a fist into his mouth.

Itachi was watching you both, even though he was unwell. This was the first time that he was properly ill since Daiki was born, and he was nervous about it. You had quickly learnt that Itachi had very low expectations of your parenting abilities. You tried your best not to take it personally, understanding that alpha parents in his family weren’t normally the most hands on, but it did sting sometimes. You were doing your best to prove him wrong.

Was it easy for you to do all the cooking, cleaning, childcare, and caring for Itachi at the same time? No.

But was it something you were happy to do while your partner recovered? Of course.

Speaking of caring for Itachi, you probably needed to resoak the flannel on his forehead. You shuffled over, keeping an eye on Daiki, and gently lifted the cloth. Like you’d expected, it felt warm to the touch.

You resoaked the flannel in the bowl of ice water and wringed it out before gently wiping down Itachi’s face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, dabbing around his neck.

“I’m okay.” Itachi sighed and sent you a weak smile. “How are you—”

“Oma! Oma!” Daiki had crawled over to you both and grabbed a fistful of Itachi’s top to pull himself into a standing position. “Oma!”

“Careful, darling.” You unwrapped Daiki’s hands from Itachi’s top and supported him up yourself. He seemed to realise that something was wrong, because he blinked at you and Itachi, and curled in on himself unsurely.

“Oma?” he asked, bottom lip wobbling.

“Oma is poorly, but he’s okay,” you said softly, smoothing down Daiki’s hair. He looked unsure, but he eventually nodded and patted Itachi gently on the arm. Itachi took his hand and covered it in kisses, and Daiki finally relaxed.

Suddenly, from the kitchen, you heard the sound of dinner boiling over.

“Oh! Come on Daiki, we have to go and save dinner!” You stood up, picking up your pup as you did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do something?” Itachi asked, sitting up slightly.

“Rest.” You stared him into submission, and Itachi reluctantly laid back down. “I can handle everything, trust me.”

Itachi still wasn’t comfortable relinquishing control, but you’d get there. For now, you had a sick omega and a needy pup to tend to.

…

You pottered around the kitchen, putting away the washing up, while Sasuke diligently took notes on spellcrafting at the kitchen table. You were used to him being around by this point, as he had moved in five months ago to take a magical apprenticeship under Itachi. As you understood it, his parents had encouraged him to stay in their village for his apprenticeship, but Sasuke had insisted that Itachi teach him.

Thankfully he had mellowed out a lot, and now when he threatened to cut off your dick, he was only joking.

At least you hoped he was joking.

Itachi was out today manning the stall in town, which meant you were holding down the fort and looking after Daiki.

The pup in question was currently playing in the garden with Sasuke’s cat, who was just as prickly as him, but had a soft spot for Daiki. At four years old, you were okay to let him play alone as long as he didn’t leave the fenced in section, and you could see him from the kitchen window.

Sasuke sighed, putting down his pen to rub at his temples.

“Having trouble with the spellcraft?”

“No.” He gave you no other information, so you decided to pour him a glass of orange juice as a peace offering and sit down with him. Clearly something was weighing on the teenager.

“Is something wrong, Sasuke?”

“No.” It was a predictable Sasuke response that you didn’t buy for even a second.

You knew that he’d need a bit more prying. “Are you sure?”

Sasuke hesitated. You remained entirely silent as he battled with himself, knowing that any amount of encouragement would only cause him to clam up. Eventually, he spoke, his words coming out slowly. “My father sent me a message.”

“I see.”

“He wants me to come back home, now. He said he’s found me another teacher.”

You nodded, and carefully kept judgement out of your words. “And how does that make you feel?” Sasuke shrugged, playing with the pencil. “You know that you’re always, always welcome here, Sasuke, never doubt that. Even if you decide to stop studying under Itachi, you can always stay here or visit as often as you want.”

Sasuke’s shoulders relaxed and you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to tell your father that you’re extending your apprenticeship here?” Sasuke nodded, looked relieved. You gave him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, and he relaxed even further.

“Thanks,” he muttered, sipping his orange juice.

“Of course; you’re family.”

Outside, the chickens started squawking, which was your cue to go and grab Daiki, so you left Sasuke at the table and went out into the garden. “Daiki, what did I say about messing with the chickens?”

But it wasn’t Daiki, it was Itachi getting home that had set them all off. He was carrying multiple bags on his shoulders, and he looked incredibly winded. You ran over to grab the bags.

“Are you okay? Come on in.” Itachi panted and followed you inside. He looked completely exhausted; even Sasuke jumped up to help when he saw the state that his brother was in.

“What happened?” Sasuke demanded.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just winded from the walk.”

“Bullshit!” Sasuke swore, putting a hand on his brother’s forehead. “You shouldn’t be this tired from a thirty-minute walk.”

“Sasuke, don’t swear,” Itachi reprimanded. “I’m just tired, nothing more.”

You raised an eyebrow, grabbing him a glass of water, but making sure he knew that you didn’t believe him. Itachi took the glass gratefully and downed the whole thing.

When it became clear that neither you nor Sasuke would be letting the issue go, Itachi sagged down in his chair.

“It’s nothing, really,” he insisted. “I think—Well, I’m pretty sure I’m tired because—”

“Because?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” he blurted out, looking to you bashfully. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you soon, I just hadn’t decided how yet.”

“Wha—Really? That’s amazing!” All your previous suspicions were forgotten, and you hugged Itachi tightly, feeling giddy at the amazing news.

Sasuke sent you a suspicious glare, but he had long since made peace with the fact that you and Itachi were having sex as long as he was able to live in denial about it.

You laughed gleefully and covered Itachi’s face with kisses as he giggled. “I guess it’s only me on market duty for the next year then, huh?”

You filled up his glass again. Now that you knew he was pregnant, your instincts were going to remain in ‘overly doting’ mode for the foreseeable future.

“Actually, I was thinking…” Sasuke awkwardly trailed off, scuffing his feet on the ground. “Maybe I could take over some stuff with the market stall. We could open it more days a week then, and you could spend more time on parent duty or whatever. I mean, I still need to study, but I have some free time, and it would bring in some more money.”

You grinned, ruffling Sasuke’s hair. His sheepish expression melted into a petulant pout. “That’s an amazing idea! Seeing as you’re going to be around for at least another six months, it makes a lot of sense! I’ll take you with me a few times until you’re confident doing it alone, okay?”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not hard.”

Itachi, pregnant and probably incredibly hormonal, burst into tears at the idea that Sasuke living with you would be a more permanent thing.

Sasuke, completely allergic to feelings, promptly fled the room with the excuse that he had to practice a potion, leaving you to delicately wipe Itachi’s tears away.

“I’m happy,” Itachi sobbed into your neck. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too, baby, me too.”

You were incredibly lucky to be able to say that and deeply and truly mean it.

…

James watched as the human alpha built a home with their children, their mate, their mate’s brother, their mate’s brother’s cat, and seven… turkeys? Something like that, James couldn’t quite remember the word for those tiny creatures.

The human was happy, and bizarrely, that made James feel happy too. The weird burning in her chest subsided, and she was able to close ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’, knowing that her human made the right choice.

It was with a light heart that James left the library to guide more humans, knowing that her human alpha was happy.

If you asked her, the human alpha had more than earnt a happy second life.

[milkteahood]

not a good man 2

Simon Riley x fem!reader, part 1

Summary: Simon crawls back to apologise

You have asked and I have delivered. I might or might not make an alternative ending where reader doesn’t take back Simon and starts dating König instead

Warning: light smut (just a paragraph, oral f receiving), still mdni

The next weeks were spent by Simon drowning in alcohol, refusing to admit it’s because of you. He didn’t call or text at all after that last fight, but you didn’t either.

You on the other hand, spent the first week falling asleep crying next to your phone. You hoped that, for once, it would be him who fights for you. But he never called, which only worked to break your heart further.

“Silly me I guess” you’d tell yourself.

On the base he was more distracted than usual, but not enough for anyone to notice. Well, not enough for someone that wasn’t close to him. His captain, John Price, noticed. So one day, while he was having lunch, Price took a seat across the table.

“Captain” Ghost nodded his head.

“Ghost. What’s on your mind?” John’s eyes softened slightly. Simon was very dear to him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re distracted”

Those words cut through him like a knife. Distracted? Him?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he responded, tone more cold now.

“I think you do”

John wasn’t one to back down and Simon knew that. And John also wasn’t someone Simon could intimidate. He was trapped.

“Just a fight”

“Your girl or something?”

Simon didn’t respond and John knew silence was an answer too.

“Have you tried to apologize?”

“What makes you think it’s my fault?” he raised his voice ever so slightly. As much as Price annoyed him in this moment, he wasn’t going to be disrespectful to his captain.

Price only gave him an amused look.

“Look Riley, a word of advice. Not from a superior, but from a comrade”

Simon looked at him straight in the eyes, waiting for him to continue.

John smiled “just because she loves the monster you are, it doesn’t make you less of one. You cannot be Ghost where you should be Simon” and with that, John stood up with his cup of coffee and departed, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts.

And that is how Simon found himself in front of your apartment door. He stood there for at least 20 mins before he knocked.

You were on the couch, nose deep into one of your books. The past weeks have been rough, finding yourself unable to focus on much else.

The soft knocks on your door made you snap back to reality. They were so quiet you almost missed it. You stood up from the couch and made your way to the door.

Your heart jumped in your throat when you looked through the peephole and saw him. His hood was up, and he was looking down.

For a while you contemplated ignoring him, but part of you, the big part of you, the one that still loved him, won. So you opened the door.

“Simon” you said, coldly.

“Dove—“ he looked up and paused. Your eyes were red, you have been crying for god knows how long. He looked back down. In that moment he wanted to punch himself into another dimension.

“‘M sorry” he mumbled.

“What?”

“‘M sorry” he said again, still looking down.

“Is that all? Really?” you were getting angry.

“You know what? Forget it” you said, starting to close to door, which he promptly stopped with his hand.

“N-no. Wait. Look. I know. I’ve been nothing but a cunt to you since the moment we started dating… and— I’m sorry, ok?” he sounded almost desperate.

You let go of the door and stepped aside, which he took as an invitation and walked in after you, closing the door behind.

“You’re soaking wet” you remarked.

“I— I waited for 30 minutes in front of your apartment complex. Then 20 more in front of your door..” he was still not looking at you.

“So it took you about an hour to debate whether or not I was worth an apology?” your voice was cold and full of venom.

“No. It’s not like that” he looked up, his eyes almost pleading for you to stop. Just accept his apology. But of course you weren’t going to and he knew that.

“Look Y/N. I can’t be what you need me to be. I don’t know how to do love you. Not in the way you want me to”

“But are you willing to try?”

“What?”

You left a crack to your heart for him to use. It was up to him to make the effort to squeeze through it.

“I asked—“

“Yes” he cut you off. “Yes I will try. Please love”.

He took a few steps towards you, but this time, you stood where you were. You extended your hands to cup his face and he instinctively leaned into your touch.

“Don’t ever—“

“I won’t” he didn’t let you finish.

“Okay” you said, gently stroking his face with your thumbs “you will have to prove that to me”.

He only nodded, leaning more into your touch.

“I’m sorry love” he said again.

“Good. You should be” you said before standing on your toes and kissing the corner of his mouth.

His eyes widened “I thought you’re mad at me” he blinked a few times, not yet daring to touch you.

“I am. Incredibly so. But— I also love you” you said before kissing him back, not letting him get another word in. In a way, you were scared to wait, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

He didn’t wait too long before kissing you again, one of his big hands holding the back on your head, deepening the kiss. His other hand squeezed your lower back, closing any space between you.

“Seems like you can’t stay away for long little one” he smirked once you pulled away from the kiss.

“Look who’s talking. Last I checked, you’re the one that crawled back”

He gave you a quick look before pulling you into another kiss and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around him until he made it to the bedroom, dropping you on the bed and taking off his wet hoodie before climbing on top of you.

As much as he wanted to fuck you silly, he knew that wouldn’t build him a strong enough case. He didn’t want to make you feel like he was just here for a quick fix. He heard you sob about that enough in the past.

“You’re worth crawling back to” he said, kissing you again before you had a chance to answer.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

Once he pulled from the kiss, he latched onto your neck, sucking on all the spots he knew were sensitive. His hand traveled down your abdomen, running circles over your wet, needy clit.

Your moans were suddenly making his jeans feel too tight, causing him to grind against the mattress.

“Si— let me help you”

“No” he said, standing up on his knees and pulling your underwear down “for once let’s not make it about me dove”. And with that, his face was between your legs, pushing his tongue inside of you.

“Oh fuck—“ you moaned, arching your back.

He kept eating you out like you were his last meal before death. One hand held you firmly in place and the other was completely abusing your clit.

“Si— fuck— just like that, oh fuck” it felt so good you didn’t even realize you were tearing up.

“I’m gonna—“

“That’s right babe, come for me” he said, while his cock was still throbbing in his pants.

You didn’t need more encouragement before coming, your body twitching as Simon refused to let go of you, licking every drop.

You were panting, your eyes were glossy as you watched him climb on top of you again, kiss your forehead and then lay down next to you.

“What about you?” you asked, rolling on your side to face him.

He caressed your face with the back on his hand. It was rough, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I came here to apologize dove”

“But—“

“No buts little one”

He pulled you to him, nuzzling your hair. The room was dark, and the rain was still strong. How you take him back over and over, he couldn’t wrap his head around. He didn’t deserve you, that was for sure. His own ray of sunshine into the void his life was. He would never feel good enough for you, but for what it’s worth, you’re stuck with him. And he promised he would do better.

He didn’t remember just for how long he held you, but it must’ve been a while, for you started to snore.

This made him smile to himself, and he wrapped a blanket around you.

“…. I love you too” he said, but you were already asleep.

tag list: @blackhawkfanatic @milavk13 @thychuvaluswife @darkravenqueen98 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @coooookie15 @fictionallifestuff

if I missed anyone I apologize

[justmystical]

The Forgotten- 1

Pairing: Lucifer x Butterfly!fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Star vs the forces of evil

Warnings: Pre-season of Hazbin hotel, Alternative Universe

Two | Navigation

(Name) Butterfly is the Second Princess of Mewni and the Younger Sister of Queen Eclipsa.She has long red hair ,light Turquoise eyes and red round shaped marks on her cheeks.

Being the second Princess she didn't experience using her Family Relic,the Magic wand of the Butterflies that was pass down to generations to generations. Ofcourse she already knew from the beginning she wouldn't wield it. However her late Mother Queen Solaria the Monster Carver requested that she would given a replica of the family wand.

When her Mother was alive she would always want to protect her two daughters,so when she reigned Mewni she requested to the Embodiment of the Magic Book of there family to make a replica for her Protection.Just when her sister turned fourteen she received it.

She was thankfull for her mother's gift even though it was the last gift she ever received from her.

When she touched her wand it turned to a key like wand.She also found out that she can turn it to a necklace,she expect what would happen next...

She was mourning her mother's death and wanted someone to comfort her, suddenly her tears fell from her eyes to her wand and it lit up.

That surprised her very much and watched as the one ascend through the air and watch it transforms to a cat?!

This was the best thing that happened to her in weeks after her mother's death, a cat that was loyal to her and comforted her in hours mourning. It felt she felt and she decided to name her KeeKee.

Timeskip

You were currently having breakfast with your sister and her husband, yeah you never did like Shastacan or what's his name. You see him as rude and so full of himself,so you really don't how your sister survives him. If you were her you would rather feed yourself to monsters.

"So n/n how's your lesson with Glossaryck been going?"Your sister Eclipsa asked you, you stopped eating and looked at your sister "well, to be completely honest sister?poor Glossaryck is having a hard time"i giggled and Eclipse joined in"my,my sister don't give him a hard time"

You saluted and she laughed again, You and Your sister were always close but sometimes you feel like she hiding something from you.

As Breakfasts came to an end, you said goodbye to my sister and well except for Shastacan.

You removed your necklace and let transform into a cat " hewo Keekee"you said in a baby voice and she rubbed her head on your hand.

"should we visit another dimension?i think Glossaryck is going with sister today"You told her" and i may have stolen a portal scissor , don't tell anyone okay"

You went to your room to change into something comfortable, you put on a cloak and gotten everything you need ready.

Keekee transforms back into a key necklace as you put the hood of the cloak on. You cut the air to open a portal.

Earth

You visited here multiple times cause you a curious Princess.

Here it was so different from Mewni,its very interesting to say the least.

You explored more around and Keekee already transformed earlier as she guide you through the paths,she was given to you like she was your babysitter as some people joke.

You were to busy looking around you didn't noticed Keekee to be distracted to something.When you finally noticed you ran try to find your beloved pet.

"Keekee?where are you girl?" You shouted and looked around until you saw her in the hands of a blonde short man with a top hat he was sitting down by a tree.

It looked like Keekee was comforting him like she comforted you..

You walked closer to get a glimpse of the man he had the most beautiful face you ever seen and you were shocked to see he had similar marks on the cheeks like yours.

"hello?"you said which made the man jumped in surprise.

He looked at you and you remove your hood"hi?"he replied voice hoarse.

Was he crying?

Keekee saw you and rubbed herself on your leg"oh is this your cat?"you nodded.

"well I didn't know sorry..."

"it's alright,it seemed like you needed it..."you said"can i sit down with you?"he looked confused but nodded.

"hasn't anyone told you about stranger danger?"he asked and i laughed.

"well i like danger and it looks like you could use someone to talk to...my cat doesn't usually comfort any other people... she's like a detector for people who need a little help" you trailed off looking at Keekee.

"how can you be sure i need someone?"

"well,Keekee does and i trust my feline companion"

He laughed and it was like music to your ears.

"I'm (Name) by the way , what's yours?"

He froze and looked hesitant in telling you his name.

"it's umm.."

You looked at him with a confused face

"it's Lucifer..."he fully expect for you to run away.

But you didn't and smiled.

"nice to meet you Lucifer"

Lucifer yet again had to suffer his punishment. Only seeing the bad of his doings, he was summoned by a bunch of people devoted to him. They had sacrificed a lamb , baby lamb.

He can't endure this.. he only want people to have freedom and this is the consequences he got.

He teleported out out of that part of the forest and sat by a trying to maintain his breathing.

He sobbed for this retched cursed upon him.

Until he heard a meowing and saw a cat walking towards him at first he was scared to harm this little creature.

But It seems like it wasn't scared of him and for awhile it comforted him.

"KeeKee!"

He heard a luring voice but didn't moved an inch.

Until the girl greeted him,he was hesitant in interacting with this girl.

For some reason this girl is giving a source of good energy, not only that she was also gorgeous.

At the end he thought she would ran away from his name. But for some reason this girl seem confused at my hesitantion

How odd...

A/n: i know Keekee is the embodiment of the hotel but for the sake of this story and it's an alternative universe