#perhaps there are things he really cares about

[emmaelt]

Something that really has helped me is thinking about myself as separate from my brain. My brain is the one who struggles with executive dysfunction. My brain gets hyperfixated. My brain couldn’t shut up last night so I couldn’t sleep. My brain gets overwhelmed.

The thing with me, and perhaps this is all neurodivergent people too, is that I can do the thing but only if it is for someone else. When my husband is sick, I can take care of him, make endless tea, call the doctors. If it is just for me, it is an impossible mountain to overcome, but for him - I can do everything he needs.

If my brain requires me to put ear plugs in, I find it easier to explain to other people. If my brain needs a break, I find it easier to grant it for myself.

Separating the hard bits of my experience from the ‘me’ of it all has really helped. This post reminded me that I can start doing this with other parts of me too. I love learning new ways to help myself, I’m getting much better at it I think!

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if the phrase "self care" doesn't resonate with you, try calling it "system maintenance" and see if that clicks.

[acciotaitlynn]

Xavier following you around begging for forgiveness, interfering with your dates, etc after you break up with him because he chose mc to save instead of you but he regrets it now plzzzzzz? 🥺

Hiii! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ I hope it's okay that this is spicy! Xavikitty's got me really worked up 😩💦 This healed something in me fr. Thank you for requesting!

→ xavier༝you ꒰sylus is your bestie꒱

→ 18+, unprotected sex, vsex, marking/claiming, fingering, masturbation, oral;꒰fem!receiving꒱ angst, overstim, angel/baby/good girl used, ⋆˙⟡ reader is not mc from lads

→ wc: 9k

It plays on an endless loop in Xavier’s head—he remembers pushing you into harm's way to protect her. He shuts his eyes, steeling himself as the memory flares up like a haunting specter, nausea twisting at its force.

How can he possibly make you understand? After countless lifetimes dedicated to protecting Mai, it’s become instinctual, as natural as breathing. He’s devoted himself to placing her life above all else, including his own, to the point where it requires no conscious thought. His body moves according to her needs, like weary clay molded to her unyielding will.

Typically, keeping her safe fills him with immense pride and joy. She’s the center of his existence—the one thing he’s never once regretted dedicating himself to.

He’s unsure when that began to change. Perhaps it was the first moment he laid eyes on you. He remembers it vividly… 

You stood beside Mai, the woman he’s always considered the most beautiful soul in the world, yet all he could see was you. A soft, surprised inhale escaped him as he caught your radiant gaze. Then his eyes wandered over your form, drawn to the uniform that hugged your curves in all the right places—curves that stirred a long-buried ache in him, a longing he’d almost forgotten existed.

Captain Jenna assigned you to the Unicorns team, instructing them to show you the ropes during your first few months. Much to Mai's dismay, Xavier took a shine to you. You both hit it off instantly, diving into animated discussions about books, video games, and anime that last for hours. 

Xavier changes around you. It's a stark contrast from his usual aloof demeanor; he becomes like an overeager puppy, radiating a cheerful, youthful energy that draws you in. You make him feel alive, his soul buzzing with excitement whenever you're around.

Then there's Mai. The lingering touches and flirtations between her and Xavier are familiar yet futile. He feels something for her—his body still heats up when she’s near, and the butterflies flutter in his stomach whenever she hugs him. But you? You make his heart race to the point where he can't think straight. You ignite a spark in him that he’s hesitant to acknowledge, filling him with light and hope. 

With Mai, it’s different. While she makes him happy, the constant chase for something unachievable cloaks their moments in a bittersweet melancholy, even during the brightest times. A nagging question lingers in his mind—is he starting to care for you so deeply that it’s overshadowing his feelings for her? Is that even possible?

Mai has consumed his thoughts and desires for as long as he can remember. He struggles to disentangle himself from her, even against his will. But ever since that first mission together, you’ve carved a place in his psyche that’s too significant to ignore. 

Unbeknownst to him, his changes around you are glaringly obvious. And you can't help but smirk at how annoyed it makes Mai. She does her best to keep you away from him, often splitting up during missions to maintain her hold. She sits closer to Xavier, throwing you daggers with her glares, her flirtations with him seemingly growing bolder by the day. 

Currently, her arm is draped over his shoulders as she whispers into his ear. As your eyes meet Xavier’s, warmth blooms in his gaze, only to falter when you quickly look away.

It’s only been three days since he pushed you in front of that wanderer without a second thought, pulling Mai away as though her safety was paramount. Mai executed her plan with precision, positioning herself between you and the threat when Xavier was distracted to force a choice upon him. It was meant to convey that he ultimately belongs to her.

You've asked him to avoid speaking to you unless it’s work-related, and even then, you prefer silence. His gentle voice feels like a sharp knife cutting deep into your resolve. Just one more month, and you can escape this toxic duo for good.

Watching Mai cling to him is torture—some sort of cruel cosmic punishment for an unknown transgression. Every place her hands linger is a spot you crave for yourself. Your desire for Xavier has burned since the moment you laid eyes on him. It’s evident he shares that longing, how his gaze roams over you when he thinks you’re not looking, and how he blushes fiercely at the simplest of touches.

You just don’t understand it. You know their heartbreaking history; Sylus filled you in. Giving up on something you've worked so hard for is a monumental challenge. Still, they don’t joke and laugh like you do. His eyes don’t light up for her the way they do for you; that deep cerulean gaze doesn’t trace her form with the same heat anymore. He no longer seeks her out or reciprocates her touches. In fact, he’d likely forget her entirely if she weren’t always throwing herself at him. 

So, why doesn’t he draw a line? Why won’t he create the boundary he so obviously needs? It’s maddening. 

You wish for the patrol minutes to fly by so you can escape, grab a few drinks, and retreat to the safety of binge-watching anime, where you can finally process your feelings. 

Your friend’s ringtone cuts through your frustration as Mai nuzzles into Xavier, earning a grimace from him as he pulls back slightly. The deep voice on the other end of your phone call soothes your irritation like crisp, smoky whiskey. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, relief washing over you at the welcome distraction. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now.

“You sound upset, sweetie. Is a certain naughty kitten causing you some frustration again?” he teases, referring to the skank currently toeing Xavier’s thigh. You glance around, taking in the scene around you, and it only intensifies your disgust. It's a crowded street, and she just pops her boot off and goes for it.

“It would be great if you could come take her away. for like, ever,” you mumble grumpily.

"But then you might miss me," he drawls, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"That's why video chat exists," you reply, rolling your eyes.

Mai knows exactly who’s on the other end of that line, but her confidence in your friendship with Sylus keeps her at ease. She knows you don’t stand in the way of her claim on him. Instead, she leans closer to Xavier, her fingers tracing lazy shapes along his arm, a suggestive grin plastered on her face. 

Yet it’s a futile effort. Xavier is hanging on your every word, his focus unwavering. His remains unreadable as you assure Sylus you'll arrive soon.

Finally, the clock strikes midnight. Unfortunately, you’ve ridden here with Mai, as your car is in the shop. You contemplate how to ask for a lift, but before you can gather the courage, Xavier swiftly breaks free from Mai’s grasp and gently guides you toward his car.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Xavier!” Mai's voice drips with irritation as she tries to pull him back.

He dodges her intervention, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t you need a ride?” he asks, keeping his gaze steady on you.

Mai’s stunned expression is almost comical, but Xavier doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. He’s not about to subject you to another awkward ride with her, especially when he can’t shake the unsettled feeling that gnaws at him at the thought of you having dinner with Sylus. How easily you seemed to relax upon receiving his call is driving Xavier mad. 

As Mai seethes next to her bike, Xavier’s focus remains ahead, his expression calm, but his grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled. You angle toward the window, crossing your arms and letting the scenery blur past. Irritation bubbles just beneath the surface, and you can’t help but murmur, “Escaping your master’s leash. Impressive.” 

He glances at you, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but then he turns his gaze back to the road, leaving the tension hanging in the air between you.

Sylus is waiting when you pull up, propped casually against the bar’s porch, with a cigarette in hand and a knowing glint in his eyes as he watches you arrive. Xavier seems poised to say something, but you hop out of the car before he can get the words out, striding straight past Sylus and tossing a casual “What’s up?” over your shoulder.

You miss the way Sylus shoots a glance at Xavier—a look that says, “You better behave.” He has no grudge against the hunter; Mai chose Sylus, so what was there for him to resent? That was until Xavier started hurting you.

“I seriously don’t understand what you see in her,” you mutter as Sylus takes a seat, prompting a chuckle from him and a playful ruffle of your hair.

“I find it all part of her charm,” he shoots back with a grin.

With an exasperated sigh, you focus on getting drunk enough to forget Xavier. That task feels daunting until Sylus volunteers for karaoke, his performance drowning out your worries. When he flops back down at the table, he wears a broad grin, eyes sparkling.

“Good, right?” he asks, confidence overflowing, and it takes all your restraint not to tease him.

He’s sensitive about his singing. So, you lean in with your best serious face. “So good, Sy. You’ve gotten even better!”

His ego balloons as he settles back into the booth, nodding appreciatively as he says, “Truly.”

Carmine eyes brightened by the drinks, his flushed face scans the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at how effortlessly beautiful he looks when he lets loose. Just once, you wish he’d look bad, allowing you to be the cute one in the friendship.

Noticing your irritated appraisal, Sylus chuckles, his arm draping over the booth. He shoots you a mock, severe look. “Better not let your hunter catch you looking at me like that, sweetie. Or Mai, for that matter.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Your head is getting bigger. Seriously, it might be wider than your shoulders by now.”

But his smile vanishes, replaced by concern as he studies you. “How are you holding up?”

Your gentle smile reflects your appreciation for his genuine concern. Sylus can be a pain, but he also knows how to be a great friend. “I’m okay, I guess. If your girl gets any more hands-on, though…” You narrow your eyes at him like it’s his fault. “Doesn’t it bother you that she’s all over him lately?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tossing back a shot. “Sweetie, look at me, then at him—what’s there to worry about?”

Your scoff drips with sarcasm, enough to irk him. He raises an eyebrow and playfully kicks your ankle, smirking as you wince and curse loudly enough to catch others' attention. But soon, his worry returns, his voice softening as he tries to comfort you. “You know their history, dove. Surely, you can see that letting her go will be nearly impossible for him. I warned you about this.”

He did warn you, and you didn’t listen. Now you wish you had. You gave him a tender smile and a reassuring pat on his hand, murmuring, “I know. I just need time to accept it.”

Mission accomplished—both you and Sylus are sufficiently drunk as you head out, making plans for him to drop you off at your place. You’re busy teasing Mephisto, who’s perched on Sylus’s shoulder. His irritated nip catches your attention, and you notice Xavier’s car is still parked outside. 

Xavier knows you can see him, but you turn away, hopping on Sylus’s bike as he takes off. Guilt and irritation bubble within him as he hits the dashboard, cursing softly while watching you disappear into the distance.

When did he start hating Sylus for being near you rather than for being near Mai? As he contemplates, he realizes their relationship hasn’t bothered him lately. He’s certain he heard them banging last night from his apartment, and he couldn’t have cared less. All that consumed his mind was how to show you how sorry he is. 

After a while, his imagination ran wild, turning Mai’s cries of pleasure into thoughts of you, your sweet voice calling out in ecstasy.  His desire grew painfully as he imagined you beneath him, gripping himself tightly as he came hard enough to see stars, all while dealing with the guilt of betraying your trust.

Earlier, words had failed him, bound tight by guilt and nerves. He doesn’t know how to make you understand, but he has to try; the thought of seeing you in pain any longer is unbearable. The need to wrap you in his arms and kiss away that adorable frown grows stronger daily.

The hope of taking you home and getting a chance to try again disappears with your retreating silhouette. He groans in frustration, his head hitting the steering wheel as exhaustion trickles over him.

He’s an absolute mess. He can’t eat or sleep—two of his favorite things. Even meat doesn’t hold appeal right now. He’s miserable. 

Helplessly, he follows you and Sylus, watching your figures from his car as you sit in front of the TV.  Eventually, though, he leaves, knowing knocking on your door in the middle of the night to fall on his knees and apologize isn’t a realistic option unless he wants you to see just how much he’s falling apart over this.

At some point, you fall asleep, and Sylus covers you up before heading out. Both you and Xavier hope for relief in your dreams, but instead, your dreams are haunted by each other’s presence.

Mai has taken the day off to accompany Sylus on a business deal, and as much as you hate to admit it, you miss her. It would have been nice if Sylus had taken you along instead, leaving her here to make Xavier as miserable as you are.

Once upon a time, the thought of being alone with him on a mission filled you with excitement, practically keeping you awake the night before from sheer nerves. Now, you do your best to ignore him, walking just out of reach.

He kicks a rock, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “We should head back soon; it’s getting late. We can look for the protocore again tomorrow.”

Guilt bubbles up in you at the melancholy lacing his voice. You nod and gesture toward a nearby Wanderer, saying, “Let’s take that one down and head out.”

The two of you fight seamlessly, your movements flowing together in a rhythm more exquisite than what he shares with Mai—something that seems to stun him every time. Without realizing it, he’s started gravitating toward you during battles, often having to forcibly pull himself back to her side.

A fresh pang of guilt gnaws at him, a feeling of drifting further away from what he’s always believed to be his purpose in life. He feels so lost, and there’s only one direction he longs to run in.

When did you become his guiding star?

The trip home is the most awkward car ride you’ve ever endured, the air thick with unease. You let out a long sigh, adjusting your seat as you turn up the volume on Mozart's Symphony No. 41, the "Jupiter" movement, hoping the music can cut through the oppressive silence. The soothing notes help ease Xavier's anxiety a bit, which in turn allows you to relax as the tension around you fades—if only slightly.

But as he parks in front of your place and kills the engine, the uncomfortable atmosphere returns with full force. Every part of you longs to bolt inside, terrified of the conversation that looms ahead. You know what’s coming. He’ll look at you with those beautiful, earnest eyes and say he’s sorry, genuinely believing it, but that apology will only sharpen the pain. If he genuinely cared, he wouldn’t have put you in harm’s way. If you mattered to him, he would have shown it when it counted.

You look away, remaining still in a silent invitation for him to speak.

His soft voice slices through the tension, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.”

Another wave of silence washes over you, anger surging beneath the surface—a force that takes all your strength to suppress. You shake your head in disbelief, your nails digging into your palms as you seek relief from the emotional turmoil. Pain to drown out the pain.

He notices, gently taking your hand, unfurling your fingers, and placing them back in your lap. Your body responds to his touch, a raw ache begging for more, while a part of you screams in frustration. Shooting him a glare, you cross your arms tightly, fighting against the tears welling up.

“Don’t touch me, Xavier.” Your voice is low and firm—an order that conflicts with the desperate plea of your heart, urging you to draw him closer.

His face falls, shoulders slumping as his hand drops to his lap. “Okay,” he whispers, the hurt in his voice cracking your heart a little more. You reach for him, then quickly pull back.

Searching your face, he pleads, “May I have a moment to explain? I know it won’t help, but—”

You grab your bag, cutting him off. “No need; Sylus took care of it. You chase her across the cosmos, hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t deserve you. I'm caught up. Thank you for the apology, though. Really,” you say softly, closing the door behind you. As you walk away, you can almost feel the weight of his regret lingering in the air.

A date at Meow’s Cafe, surrounded by adorable miniature cats, should be a delightful experience. Yet today, it feels heavy with the weight of Xavier’s absence. It’s your first time here without him, and everything is off; the playful mews of the kitties have lost their charm, grating on your nerves instead, while the usually vibrant atmosphere feels dull and lifeless.

The man sitting across from you is undeniably attractive, with dark, wavy hair, a chiseled jawline, and a smile that promises excitement and chaos. You can’t help but appreciate the way his fingers linger a moment too long on your skin or the longing glint in his eyes. Yet, the ache of Xavier’s absence lingers, casting a shadow over your attempts to enjoy the moment.

Excusing yourself to the restroom, you scrub your hands, your thoughts lingering on thoughts of him. Just as you’re about to shake the memories away, his soft voice—almost a whisper—brushes against your ear. “Does he play as well as me?”

You can almost feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable mix of frustration and jealousy. Xavier’s emotions swirl around him, creating a glow that’s impossible to ignore. Watching you with someone else, someone who seems to draw you in far too easily, has shattered something within him. 

As you turn, you’re startled to find him standing there, his presence commanding and intense. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths quickening, and his hooded blue eyes betray a storm of feelings: anger, grief, desire, and a potent possessiveness that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

You fight to maintain your composure, voice steady as you ask, “What are you doing here?” Tara set this date up for you just yesterday, assuring you that it would help you forget about Xavier. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat, his lips grazing your cheek as he pushes you gently against the wall. For a moment, his tender touch makes you forget all about the boundaries you've set.

“What are you—”

He cups your cheek, kissing you so softly it nearly steals your breath away. “There aren’t words to express how sorry I am,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours, thumb brushing away your unshed tears as you stand frozen, torn between pushing him away and kissing him again.

You allow his lips to skim your neck, cursing your body’s betrayal when you feel an intense warmth spread through you at just the brush of his breath on your skin. 

“If I could do it over, I wouldn’t make the same choice,” he confesses, his eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. The truth in his words shakes him to his core—given another chance, he would choose you without hesitation.

Reality crashes over you, jarring you from his spell. You pull away, a sad, pitying look crossing your face. “Yes, you really would,” you reply quietly, determination solidifying your resolve as you stride out of the cafe with your date in tow.

Your date's name is Ash, but it feels irrelevant; he’s merely a means to an end, a warm body to help work out your frustrations. A pretty placeholder whose touch you imagine belongs to Xavier—a delicious fantasy until you accidentally murmur Xavier’s name, and the atmosphere grows awkward. 

Left alone, forced to find release on your own. Visions of Xavier’s cock filling you up while his beautiful gaze locks with yours consume your mind. You’re a mess of whimpers, chanting his name in a prayer that fills the stillness of your room as you ride an orgasm so powerful it borders on pain. Despite its overwhelming intensity, it does nothing to ease the ache that demands you give in to him, insisting on your claim in every way possible.

It disgusts you how you can still want someone who causes you so much pain, someone who can never care for you like you care for him. 

Your phone pings, lighting up with a message—from Xavier. He hasn’t texted you since that fateful mission, and you kick yourself at the happiness the sudden communication brings you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Next, a video comes through, sending your phone flying across the carpet as a shriek leaves you. Your hand claps over your mouth in shock, and you immediately rush to retrieve it, relentless desire flooding you at the image on the screen.

Xavier reclines on a sofa with his legs spread wide, his black button-up open to show off his lean, sculpted form. He frees his cock—so hard it looks painful. He must be super sensitive because the moment his hand wraps around himself, he lets out a needy little whimper that curls your toes.

You wish more than anything to take him in your mouth, to taste the pretty beads of precum that make his movements slick and sloppy.

Your stunned murmur of, “W-what is happening…” sounds so horrified and horny that it's comical.

Your fingers move almost of their own accord, slipping deep inside you to match his rhythm. You prop your phone up so your free hand can trail over your body, pinching and rolling your nipples as your breath quickens alongside his. You hate yourself for every touch, but you can’t stop. Your attention latches onto him and nothing else, unable to look away, even if what’s about to happen ends up ruining you. 

His grip firms instantly as if aware of your reaction, and he strokes himself faster. His head kicks back, his eyes slam shut, and a low groan escapes him. “I’m picturing myself inside you,” he admits, “Imagining laying claim to every inch of your body and soul.”

His gaze pierces through the camera, earnest and pleading, his blue eyes shining with unfathomable need.

“You think I wouldn’t make a different choice if given the chance, but you’re wrong. Besides fucking you, regret is a constant on my mind, relentlessly replaying as I watch myself make the stupidest choice of my life.” He lays his head back again, keeping his eyes on the camera as he languidly strokes himself, continuing, “Centuries of longing for and chasing after Mai, of dedicating my very existence to her, and then you come along and turn my entire world upside down with just a smile. You make me want to give up everything I believe in to be with you.”

His words trail off as his movements become frantic. With an incoherent mumble, he says, “I bet you’re so tight… so warm. Are you wet for me, angel? I hope so… W-will you cum with me?” The plea in his voice is unmistakable.

You whimper, nodding frantically, your pussy squeezing your fingers as his filthy words spur you on.

Your gaze flits over his body, unable to settle as your pleasure builds. He’s so pretty—his face flushed, sweat beading on his skin, his cerulean eyes burning bright. A whiny, needy repetition of your name leaves his lips as cum covers his hand and stomach, sending you hurtling into your own release.

Shame fills you when the pleasure subsides. His face moves closer to the camera, and he softly murmurs, “I really miss you,” effectively ripping your heart out and stomping on it before the video cuts off, an unsettling silence filling the air. You want to scream and cry, and most frustratingly, you want a second round with the most significant thing ever filmed.

A sudden realization hits you, and you groan, stuffing your face into a pillow with a muted scream. Work tomorrow is going to be so awkward.

Thank the gods your car is finally back from the shop. An immense sense of relief washes over you, knowing you won’t have to endure another ride with Xavier after what happened last night—or, possibly even worse, with Mai.

However, that relief quickly evaporates as you arrive at work and see Xavier striding toward you. He boldly brushes your hair back and leans in close, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself last night? I know I did,” his smile warm and inviting.

He takes your chin and tilts your face, his voice soft as he confesses, “I’ve never felt so good. Not even at the thought of Mai.” You squeak in surprise, instinctively pulling away.

Xavier has decided he’s done fighting his feelings for you. The hesitation about the changes this could bring to his life—and the guilt that comes with it—is gone. He wants you more than anything, and now he’s determined to show you just how much.

As you walk side by side on patrol, his soft voice fills the air with light-hearted musings and playful teasing, yet you constantly remind yourself why you must keep your distance.

Meanwhile, Mai glares daggers from behind, trying desperately to distract Xavier at every opportunity. She attempts to hold his hand at one point, batting her lashes with a cute little pout. But he quickly pulls away, brushes your arm tenderly, and continues walking by your side. 

A warmth spreads in your heart, and you can’t help but worry about how easily he’s breaking down the walls you’ve built around yourself.

Mai’s cheerful voice grates on Xavier’s nerves as he struggles to finish his paperwork for the day. The office is empty now, and he’s itching to leave, his mind consumed with thoughts of seeing you.

Mai pulls up a chair, pretending to help him, but her true intentions are clear when she rests her hand on his thigh, continuing to write as if it’s the most natural thing. Her fingers begin their creeping ascent, and Xavier’s heart races. His body locks up, and anxiety rises as the ability to breathe leaves him. 

Mai has always been flirty, something he used to find endearing, even if it was just a ruse to keep him coming back for more. But this was more than suggestive flirtation. When she presses her lips to his for the first time, she sighs as if kissing him brings her true joy.

How many times has he longed for this? Centuries of wishing for this moment—and he feels nothing at all. 

Xavier pulls back with a pained expression, searching her beautiful eyes. He makes no move to stop her, testing how he truly feels. After so much effort and heartbreak over wanting, no, needing this and Mai, he has to be sure before giving it all up.

Her fingers trail delicately over his abs and chest. He lets her kiss him again; this time, Xavier kisses back, trying to coax out some emotion other than this empty void. Kisses trail his skin as she frees his cock, only to pull back in disbelief when she feels his lack of arousal.

He watches her with detachment as she strokes him, pouting when he remains limp in her hand. Gently stopping her as she moves to take him into her mouth, he says, “I can’t do this anymore,” his voice soft but resolute, as a weight lifts from his shoulders.

Mai narrows her eyes, her mask slipping momentarily as she murmurs, “Xavier, you don’t truly want her. You’re just so pent up after all these years that anyone will do,” her veil of teasing returns as she leans closer, urging, “Let me help. This is what you’ve always wanted, right?” 

She frees her breasts from her tank top, squeezing and tugging enticingly. This isn’t the girl he fell in love with—the gentle, kind soul that captured his heart so long ago. Over her lifetimes, she’s become cold and cruel, the alluring brightness in her eyes dimming with time. Xavier realizes he’s been chasing someone who no longer exists, a profound grief washing over him.

Taking out his phone, he finds a picture of you and shows it to Mai as she scowls. Pushing her hand away, he murmurs, “You have no idea what I want. Watch.”

Gazing at your smiling face on the screen, he begins stroking his cock, becoming painfully hard within moments, lust shadowing his features. Mai’s eyes burn with genuine desire and jealousy, but he feels nothing for her.

Tucking himself back into his boxers and fixing his pants, he asks, “Did you throw yourself in front of that Wanderer to lure me into saving you?” This question has nagged him whenever the scene replays in his mind. 

He’s almost certain Mai wasn’t near you when he began the battle, only to find her next to you when the Wanderer attacked. The chaos made it difficult for him to be sure.

The answer becomes clear when Mai clears her throat, quickly glancing away. Nervousness plays on her features as Xavier takes on a chilling demeanor, standing and collecting his paperwork with meticulous movements. Any remaining connection to her ignites and burns away as he regards her coldly, fighting hard to maintain his composure. 

“I’ll be requesting a transfer for both her and myself. In the meantime, don’t even look in her direction,” Xavier says, his calm tone carrying an underlying warning: there will be consequences if she crosses the boundary he’s setting. Adjusting her top, shame, and embarrassment on her features, Mai watches as Xavier turns and walks away. 

Your phone pings as you slip into an oversized T-shirt, and the screen lights up with a message from Sylus: “Looks like you won the game, dove. My money was on you all along,” complete with a celebratory champagne bottle emoji.

What the heck is that supposed to mean? 

You’re about to hit the call button to get an explanation when a knock at the door reveals a rain-soaked Xavier. His eyes light with relief upon seeing you. You let him in, grabbing a towel and doing your best to help him dry off, earning a gentle smile as you fluff his hair. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, pulling away and searching his face.

His fingers brush your cheek tenderly as he nods and says, “If I were to ask you to leave Linkon with me, what would you say?”

Your eyes widen as you sputter, “Um, I—like for the day?” 

He gives you a rare, genuine smile, then chuckles as he replies, “No. Like forever. Together.” He kisses you tenderly and nuzzles your nose. “We can start over somewhere new,” he whispers earnestly.

You want to believe such a thing is possible, but doubt lingers, pulling you away from his embrace. “Xavier… you don’t mean that. Mai—” 

“Is no longer part of my life,” he finishes. Gripping you by the waist and drawing you closer, he tilts your head to meet his gaze.“I don’t care how long it takes to prove it to you. I’m a very patient man,” he murmurs.

“How exactly do you plan to prove it to me?” you ask, your voice low and sensual, surprising even yourself.

You adore the way Xavier’s eyes heat up when he hears it. He hums softly, his lips brushing your ear while one arm holds you close, his fingers tracing down your arm to entwine with yours. When he kisses you this time, your body aches to melt against his, but you stand your ground, determined to make him fight for it. His tongue gently explores your mouth, groaning as he tastes you fully, cupping your cheek and deepening the kiss.

He pulls back and studies you, his thumb grazing your lips, admiring how they glisten as he spreads the moisture around. “So pretty…” he murmurs, his mouth skimming the soft skin under your ear, teeth grazing lightly, sending shivers through your body.

His brows scrunch in a pout as he reaches for your hands that hang limply at your sides, “Why won’t you touch me?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m not sure you deserve it yet,” you mumble, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I see,” he says with a hint of amusement.

Slowly, his touch travels under your shirt, teasing your nipple with light sweeps of his thumb. His mouth and hands explore every inch of your skin he can reach, worshiping you so delicately it takes your breath away. 

“Xavier?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to see you,” you admit, nervousness spilling into your voice.

Xavier’s throat bobs as he nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he sheds his clothing. At first, he’s hesitant, afraid you may not like what you see.

It’s a silly fear since he’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen. Lean and slender, his body is honed by centuries of combat, the faint scars on his pale skin testifying to trials overcome. Your hungry eyes catch on his cock, so long and pretty that you moan quietly, just thinking about how good it would feel to take it.

The look of pure longing on your face instantly eases Xavier’s insecurities. His thumb sweeps over his cock, gathering beads of precum before he holds it to your mouth, a plea evident in his eyes. You want to remain strong, but the desire to taste him overpowers you. You suck it clean, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. His cock twitches eagerly as a strangled “fuckk, angel” escapes him, his thumb pumping deeply into your mouth as he bites his puffy lip. 

“May I see you too?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. You nod and let him pull it off, fighting the urge to cover yourself as your nipples perk in the chilly air. The way his gaze travels your body is so sensual and awe-filled that it’s almost devastating.

His hands tangle in your hair as he tilts your head, his kiss far more profound than any before. He presses you against the wall, trailing kisses down your stomach and along your inner thighs before pulling your shorts down. A groan escapes him when he sees your bare pussy. 

Instantly, he thumbs open your folds, dragging long, languid fingers through your heat before holding his hand up for you to see. “So wet,” he murmurs, rubbing it around and watching it stick to his fingers. “Is this all for me? he asks, wonder filling his voice. 

You nod, whimpering pitifully as he licks them clean, his eyes shutting in ecstasy at your taste. A desperate curse leaves him as he commands,  “Spread your legs then; I can’t let any go to waste.” You do as he says, whimpering again as his fingers trace delicate circles over your clit. “You’ve done so well for me, angel… practically dripping. You’ll feel amazing like this.” Then his tongue is deep in your cunt, eagerly lapping up your arousal with a deep groan against your skin that shocks your entire system. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair without hesitation, holding his face firmly in place as you grind against it. His straight nose brushes your clit with every turn of your hips, sending waves of pleasure through you. He kneels before you, and his gaze is unwavering as he slips a finger inside you, his lips and teeth teasing your slick, warm skin. Xavier loves how puffy your clit gets under his mouth and how sensitive you are to even the slightest of his touches.

He yearns to be closer to you, to be enveloped in your warmth and your scent as you cum in his mouth. Guiding you to the couch, he lies down and motions for you to come closer. “Use my face,” he commands softly, his voice laden with desire as he finishes. “I want to enjoy my meal.”

He eases you over him, his mouth inhaling you eagerly. Growing frustrated that you won’t put all your weight on him, he pushes you down so your pussy lands flush on his face. “Good girl,” he mumbles against you, urging your hips along. At first, you’re concerned about his ability to breathe, but the worry quickly vanishes as he teases your nipples and plays with your ass.

He whimpers as your fingers finally begin to trace his skin, his hips making needy pumps into the air, desperately seeking friction. Your touches are so tender, your gaze full of adoration, and a giddy smile spreads across your face at the sight of his slick-covered features.

You run your hands lovingly through his hair, the look on your face causing him to fall apart. He lets out a strangled cry that vibrates through your pussy as his cum covers his stomach. He sucks your clit harder, fingers pumping into you rapidly as you ride his face.

“Yes, yes, yess!” you shout, hand gripping his hair tightly while the other reaches around to play in his essence, coating his sensitive, twitching cock as he whimpers quietly. You can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed as you turn into an absolute slut above him. It’s just so deliciously indecent. 

He’s so sticky from his release, shimmering with sweat and the faint glow of his evol. His face and ears are flushed, your essence covering his mouth and chin. He gazes up at you with so much desire as you bring your soaked fingers to your mouth, tasting them slowly.

The moment he feels your tight walls flutter around his fingers at his taste, he replaces them with his tongue, devouring every bit of your cunt. Even after he cleans all your cum, he refuses to stop. He pulls you tighter against him, forcing your hips to move until you whine and tremble uncontrollably above him.

“T-too much, Xavier, pleasee,” you mumble desperately, tugging at his hair. He chuckles softly and sits up, letting you rest. You settle on his lap as he leans back against the sofa, giving you a gentle smile, his lips still wet and shiny. Your touch is uninhibited now, free from hesitation as your fingers map his skin. 

He’s so responsive. Just the gentlest of touches elicit the most adorable, most sensual sounds. Your fingers ghost over a perked nipple, earning a strangled groan in return. His head kicks, and his hands form tight fists as he tries to show restraint.

You meet his eyes, your voice soft as you ask, ‘Xavier… have you ever felt truly cared for and cherished before?” 

You want to cry and rage when he blushes and turns away, whispering “no” as pain briefly crosses his features. 

Cupping his face, you kiss him tenderly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. “I promise, you’ll never have to spend another day without knowing how loved you are,” you vow earnestly.

His eyes widen in surprise as he silently mouths the word “love,” as if trying to see how it feels on his tongue. “No one’s ever said that word to me before,” he admits quietly.

You smile gently, meeting his gaze. “Well, try saying it out loud next time. You need to get used to it.” Your lips find his again, gentle and searching, conveying all the emotions too scary to put into words just yet. You bite and suck at his neck, teasing relentlessly when his body betrays how good it feels. 

You work a faint mark on his collarbone, admiring it with a brush of your fingers as you quietly ask, “Are you really all mine?” Your awe-filled gaze meets his. He pulls you close, cupping the nape of your neck and murmuring, “Yes,” against your lips. A smile lights up your face, mirrored by his beaming expression as he witnesses your joy.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says earnestly, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

You roll your eyes with a teasing grin and mumble, “Don’t push it,” before silencing his words by pressing your tongue into his mouth. He pulls away after a moment, biting his lip as he forces himself to be gentle, playing with your breasts. Little tugs and pinches over one nipple while the other hand traces your curves.

It’s not nearly enough.

“I won’t break, Xavier. You need to do it harder,” you plead, frustration filling your voice.  Your plea is soon replaced with a surprised, strangled cry when he murmurs, “Yes, mam,” and stuffs his mouth full, biting and sucking roughly.

His touch turns rougher, too. His fingers squeeze your ass so hard they’ll surely leave marks, complimenting the bruise blooming on the swell of your breast. 

“All mine,” he says, meeting your eyes with a teasing, confident smile as he echoes your earlier sentiment. You squeak in surprise as he grabs your thighs and presses down, sliding you along his cock, using your pussy to smear his cum around, soaking your heat and thighs in slickness.

You take over, hips moving faster, desperately seeking more of the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

“You’re so soft and warm…” you murmur dreamily, ruining him when you finish with a whimper of, “Gonna feel so good filling me up,” before burying your face in his neck as you move against him.

“Can I put it in? Please?” he begs, lifting your ass just enough to rub circles with his leaking tip at your entrance. He’s trembling, holding back the urge to fuck you roughly. Instead of answering, you lower yourself onto him, wincing as his cock stretches you open. 

He can’t take his eyes away from where you join, watching you drip down his length as he delicately rubs your clit, his eyebrows scrunched up in an adorable expression of concentration. 

“Does it hurt?’ he asks, noticing your quiet gasp of pain as you take him halfway. You nod, whimpering slightly. He leans up to kiss you, pressing down on your bottom lip and tilting your chin to meet your blissed-out gaze. “You’re still so tight, angel. I’ll open you up better next time, I promise.” He nuzzles your nose, trying to distract you from the pain as he pushes in deeper.“Can you take it for me? I-i’m almost there,” he says, his eyes trickling back down to where you suck him in.

Pleasure begins to mix seamlessly with the pain, and you don’t bother to respond, your eyes rolling back as a sigh of ecstasy leaves you. Xavier takes that as a yes and gently presses you down until he bottoms out. Desire begins to overwhelm his features as he watches your essence mix with his at the base of his cock.

He searches your eyes, kissing you softly and murmuring, “How does it feel?” 

“Honestly? Nothing has ever felt so good. So full…” you mumble, starting a slow, torturous cycle of movements. You pull him out to the tip before letting him fill you up again, over and over, until the moment comes when he finally allows himself to let go. He presses you flush against him and pushes deep inside you, setting his own much more intense pace. He spanks your ass with an adorable smile, his blue eyes shining with joy. 

You eagerly match his movements, chanting, “Harder, Xavier! Harder!” You squeal happily when he flips you onto your back, throwing your legs above your head and fucking you so much harder. A mirthful smile appears on his face as his cock pierces deep inside you, forcing out a raw, strangled cry of pleasure. Pleasure builds and crashes in an instant, your pussy gripping and pulsing so tightly around him that he can barely breathe.

“That’s it, baby, cum all over me,” he praises, stroking your clit in time with his thrusts. His pace quickens, helping you ride your release. Sloppy sounds fill the air as you spill over him, spurring him on. He grips your hips tight to keep you from sliding as he fucks into you relentlessly.

“Such a good girl. You can give me another one, can’t you?” he murmurs, his weight pressing down on you, pushing his cock even deeper than before. The soft, pale hair trailing from his pelvis rubs your clit just right. His moves are deliberate, urging you to come again with a sharp cry as tears fill your eyes and your body starts to tremble. 

He kisses your cheek, his movements never slowing. “So perfect for me… Just one more, angel,” he whispers, making pointed thrusts into your g-spot over and over and over until you spill all over him again. 

He can’t seem to stop. Every orgasm he pulls from you only makes him more desperate and needy. “So fucking wet… you have no idea how good you feel,” he mumbles incoherently, burying his face in your neck and bringing you to release again just from the feeling of his warm mouth on your skin and his filthy words. 

“T-too much, Xavier, I can’t! Please!” You’re sobbing and overstimulated—a sensitive, weak mess. 

“Shh. It’s okay… It’ll be over soon. You want to show me how much you love me, right?” His tone is teasing, but the sincerity in his eyes tells you your answer means a lot to him. 

Tears fall harder as he kisses you, and you manage to choke out a strangled “yes.” 

“I know you do,” he says tenderly. His tongue pries open your mouth and softly commands, “Swallow,” as he spits into it. 

Blushing deeply,  you follow his instructions, moaning in ecstasy at the taste, which earns a pleased hum from him. He tugs on your bottom lip, admiring your blissful expression and the tears tracing your cheeks. His praises continue, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. 

“Such a pretty little angel, following my instructions so well.” Another orgasm approaches alarmingly fast, feeling almost too powerful, and you wonder if your body can withstand it. Xavier seems to read your mind because he mumbles, “You can,” before fucking you even harder. 

You squirt so much that it pulls out a strangled, “Fuck, yes. You’re doing so fucking well…” from him as his cock squelches around inside you. “I–i can’t hold out much longer. You… you feel too good,” he admits softly against your lips.

 “Please, Xavier... Please cum for me, i–i’ll do anything,” you plead, needing to feel claimed by him more than you can express. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you murmur, “Do you want to finish inside?” pulling him as close as you can. 

He whimpers at your words, cradling your head against his chest as his cock continues to fuck into you mercilessly. The moment his hips stutter and he sinks into you with one last, deep thrust, his cum spills inside of you, and he captures your lips in the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt. Despite reaching his climax, he doesn’t stop. His cock pistons into you with renewed force.

With fierce determination, he pulls one final orgasm from you, his movements gradually slowing as you ride through it. As soon as he pulls back and looks at your ruined form beneath him, lust clouds his features, and his cock hardens again. Anxiety hits you over the state of your more-than-abused pussy, and you whine, “Noo, Xavier—just let me take care of you for a little while. ’m too sensitive.” 

He chuckles, scooping you up in his arms and resting back on the couch. You try to fight the arousal his hardened length pressing against your ass brings. He meets your gaze, kissing you softly and holding you close as your heartbeats grow steady. He peppers your face with gentle, searching kisses. 

“Earlier, I asked you how you felt about leaving Linkon with me,” he says, tucking hair behind your ear as nervousness plays on his face. 

“Mhmm; the forever trip,” you murmur dreamily. 

He smiles softly, meeting your gaze, and asks, “So, what’s your answer?” 

You nuzzle his nose and answer earnestly, “I’ll follow you anywhere, Xavier. Just lead the way.”

A month later, you wake up before dawn to find Sylus’s face just inches from yours, a wry grin on his lips as he glances at Xavier sleeping beside you. “I took your key away specifically to prevent this kind of thing,” you hiss, careful not to wake Xavier as you untangle yourself from his limbs and quietly climb out of bed.

You gently brush his hair back, marveling at how his smile lingers even in sleep now. The melancholy that once plagued him for centuries has vanished, replaced by a serenity brought by your affection. He often tells you that you make him feel truly happy and free for the first time in his life. 

After pulling on a robe, you follow Sylus to the kitchen, halting in your tracks when you see a brand-new laptop on the counter. “Sy, what did you do?” you ask hesitantly, eyeing the device with suspicion. He rolls his eyes and motions toward it.

“What does it look like, sweetie?” he retorts, as if that clears everything up.

“Why did you buy me a laptop, Sylus? You know I don’t like gifts…” you start, but he quickly interrupts.

“Well, you should have thought about that when you decided to move several hours away from me,” he replies. You can sense he’s happy for you and Xavier, but there’s a hint of struggle with this change in your relationship.

Drawing him close, you pinch his cheeks, enjoying the irritated glare he gives you. “You’re my best friend, Sylus. I’m not just going to up and leave you after all these years,” you assure him, giving his nose a gentle boop before turning away.

He chuckles, relaxing a fraction as he ruffles your hair and then refocuses on the task at hand. “I bought you the best one on the market. They assured me it has an excellent camera—I need to ensure that my pretty face comes through crystal clear during our video chats,” he says with a teasing grin.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he adds, casually pulling a new, shiny smartphone from his pocket and handing it to you. “Both this and the laptop come with a tracking system that alerts me immediately if anything seems off,” he assures you, gently grasping your chin to meet your gaze. “Never hesitate to reach out for my help or just for company. I’m here for you, no matter how far away you are. Got it, dove?”

You want to tease him for being so serious, but his sincerity makes it difficult. It’s a rare and precious thing from him. With a gentle smile and tears welling up in your eyes, you pull him in for a tight hug. He freezes for a moment in surprise, but then his arms wrap around you, a smile spreading across his face as he swings you around.

When your feet settle back on the floor, the sadness has melted from his features. “The laptop has top-notch sound specs, too, so I can still sing to you when you’re feeling down,” he reassures you. It takes considerable effort to suppress the grimace that threatens to break your mask of enthusiasm.

Sylus lets out a low, knowing chuckle, easily seeing through you. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to fake that better over video,” he muses.

You grin and look around your empty home, excitement coursing through you. The transfer request with the Hunter’s Association went through almost immediately, and Xavier found a charming cottage with a small farm, plenty of bookshelves, and just enough room for the two of you. Sylus can’t help but smile at your evident joy. “Today’s the big day,” he teases.

You nod, your grin widening as he raises an eyebrow and offers a suggestive head toss. “You should wake your precious hunter now. You’ve got a lot to do,” he says.

Giggling, you pull him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, earning a blush that makes you laugh even harder. Then, you dash off to wake Xavier.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Stoner! MC

Requested Anonymously

Summary: Stoner MC who gets the dateables high. Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon x Reader Word Count: 1,377

18+ Warning: This fic involves the use of drugs (cannabis)

Diavolo was under the impression that getting high was something that was considered taboo.

Really anything that involved Diavolo letting loose and being anything less than perfect was considered taboo according to the Royal Family.

But, he was never one to shy away from a challenge, and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to let loose - especially with you.

He had heard about your “extracurricular activities” and after doing ample research on all things cannabis and getting high, he invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

It was pretty late at night when he asked you to come over, but he couldn’t risk anyone else seeing what he was about to do.

There was something thrilling about having you sneak around the castle with him, knowing he was doing something that others wouldn’t approve of.

He listened to everything you had to say about what to expect and you couldn’t help but smile at the adorable and innocent look of excitement he had in his eyes.

Diavolo had a million expectations in his mind about how it would feel the first time, but he still wasn’t prepared.

He felt like he went through multiple phases. At first, he could feel his heart racing and you talked him through it before he could panic.

You noticed him spacing out here and there and would bring him back to you every time.

Before long, he had reached this state of what he could only describe as peace.

He was always rushing around with a hundred things to do at one time. 

He never had a chance to have a break. 

But, right now he was feeling like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was fully relaxed and to make everything even more perfect, you were right there next to him.

Diavolo wished he could feel this way all the time. But, he knew that his responsibilities as the future King of the Devildom wouldn’t allow him to do so.

Still, on particularly rough days, Diavolo would invite you over and ask you to stay the night at the castle.

Barbatos was probably the most experienced being in the entire world.

He knew almost everything and had tried almost everything.

He could see how big cannabis would become before it was even discovered by humans.

He was curious as to what the big deal was about cannabis so he had tried it once, wanting to understand.

To be honest, he wasn’t so sure why others liked it so much.

He wasn’t expecting their very own human exchange student to be a stoner, but when he found that out, he was willing to give cannabis another try.

He wasn’t afraid to admit that he may have done it incorrectly the first time.

After all, he had done it alone and he was positive that different amounts would affect humans and demons in different ways.

Perhaps he hadn’t taken the right amount.

Barbatos wasn’t one to typically ask for help, but he couldn’t deny the fact he was incredibly curious to finally understand why weed was so popular.

He invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle and asked you to help him experience “getting high”.

He was so proper with the whole conversation that you wanted to laugh. But, you stifled your laughter and agreed to help him.

Getting high with you was an eye-opening experience for Barbatos. He immediately became aware that he had definitely done it wrong the first time.

Because he had never felt like this before and in his opinion, it was an amazing feeling.

Barbatos knew that it would only be a matter of time before your supply ran out, and since he visited the human world so much, he felt like it was his responsibility to get you more since you were allowing him to use it.

He ended up being your “supplier” so to speak and learned way too much about cannabis to ensure you were always getting the best quality.

After all this time, Barabatos can finally say he understood why humans liked to get high often - it was quite the experience.

You are going to have the hardest time convincing Simeon to get high with you.

Simeon was very knowledgeable, so of course he knew about weed.

He read all about its effects and how people could react to it.

It seemed relatively safe to him, all things considered.

But, he was an angel.

Sure, deep down inside, Simeon tended to have a rebellious side, but he tried to keep up his angelic appearance as much as possible.

And doing any drug just simply wasn’t something an angel would do.

But you see his resolve slowly cracking every time you ask him to try it with you.

It wasn’t that he wanted to try getting high necessarily, it was that he would be doing it with you.

He knew that he could only resist you for so long and that one day, he would give in and try it.

That day came after he found out the others had tried getting high with you.

He instantly had FOMO and it wasn’t long after that he asked to try it with you. 

Of course, the two of you had to be alone. The others couldn’t see him doing something so - sinful.

Simeon found a nice place outside in the Devildom where he didn’t think anyone would see the two of you.

He looked so nervous the first time and you had to ask him multiple times to make sure he was okay with this. The last thing you wanted to do was peer pressure him into it.

After reassuring you that he was fine, you agreed and let him try it.

He was surprised at how he didn’t feel anything at first. He was sure that it didn’t work for him.

But, then he felt it all hit at once. One moment he was himself, and the next, he was in an elevated mental status.

You took Simeon around town to keep his mind busy and distracted so that he didn’t panic.

And after the initial phase passed, Simeon enjoyed the feeling.

He felt like it enhanced everything about his little date with you around town.

Though, he’ll probably rarely do it if he does it again - he has an appearance to uphold.

Solomon was both the most supportive and understanding of getting high.

After all, not only was Solomon a human, but he had been alive for a very long time.

He was alive when it was first discovered, when it hit an all-time high of usage, and every moment after.

He had tried it once or twice himself, but that was so long ago.

He hardly remembered what exactly it felt like.

When you came to him and asked him if he wanted to try it with you, he hesitated only for a moment to think about the situation.

He knew that it was a legal drug in a few different countries and it would provide an opportunity for him to spend one-on-time with you.

There was no reason for him to decline your offer and after a short trip to the House of Lamentation, the two of you were getting high in your bedroom.

You were surprised at how well Solomon was handling it. You almost wouldn’t know he was high.

It made you think that he was a regular stoner, but he claimed he hadn’t tried it in a long time.

So, you chalked it up to all his crazy magic experiments giving him a stronger tolerance to it.

The two of you end up having a lot of fun together, talking about random stuff and laughing until the others have to check on you.

The brothers’ number one course of action is to ask what’s so funny - to which Solomon always responds by saying, “It’s our secret.”

The look of anger on the brothers’ faces will send you and Solomon into another spiral of laughter.

He has so much fun the first time with you that he’ll look for any opportunity to do it again and it’s not long before the two of you are stoner buddies.

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/13

Hehe surprise!

After some deliberation, I decided to do vibe check just very late bc i had to cleanse and prepare some other decks i had. So i will be showing some new cards today. I took pics and everything just for yall ig 🙄🩵

Tarot Deck: Tarot of the Divine

Oracle Deck: Black Moon Astrology Cards

Please enjoy!

Seunghan

Two of Swords + Knight of Cups

Oracle: Neptune

In his spread there are a lot of depictions of eyes being closed. With this combination, in short, it is as though he feels as though he has no choice but to surrender to his circumstances. He feels the love and compassion of others reaching him earnestly, but he knows that in the end he will fall victim to whatever choices and decisions that are currently being withheld, for better or for worse. It is kinda when you close your eyes and flinch because you think you're about to get hit. The chances to him are 50/50 therefore he is preparing himself to be hit. So i would say he feels very stifled and restricted today.

Sungchan

Strength

Oracle: Saturn

These two pulls really compliment each other in that Sungchan is feeling very determined today. No matter what he is going to follow through on a lot of actions. Tbh, I can see this being very intimidating and coming off as very abrasive to others who come accross him and mention whatever it is he is determined about. If the person isnt 100% with him, the air may fill with tension. He is just not playing games today. But he needs to stay calm and collected and not emotionally fixated. I think he will be fine.

Eunseok

Eight of Coins

Orcale: 7th House

He seems to have his attention focused on something intently. With the 7th house oracle this usually depicts legal matters or partnerships. So either A- he is perhaps contemplating contract issues, perhaps regarding Seunghan- OR he is focused on nurturing and working on a relationship that may or may not have anything to do with SH. Either way, it seems he is doing so with a lot of anxiety and pain. Though he sees some results it is a painful process just in general.

Sohee

Justice

Oracle: Void of Course Moon

Sohee has been very simple lately and stable. In short, he is sitting and waiting. He does not tend to fluctuate as severely as the other members at the core once he has come to a verdict within himself. He understands that nothing he specifically says or does will alter anything at this point. So he is going to trust that whatever literal Justice is to be served will come to fruition with or without his assistance. He is very calm, maybe anxious deep down in that he can't do anything else- but accepting and firm in his stance.

Wonbin

Queen of Swords

Oracle: 10th House

Wonbin, as our #1 Seunghan supporter, seems to be hellbent on not giving up. I have pulled this queen for him before and pulled it again. I will say the same thing I have before, and it's that he will be very vocal about things. Anything he does or says is calculated and for a purpose. I have half a mind to believe he may do something drastic on his own to make himself abundantly clear. Where members like Sohee will avoid being scolded, he really does not care when it comes down to his ambitions. I really think if not us, the people around him are going to be on their toes because he will not be letting anything go anytime soon.

Anton

The Empress

Oracle: 6th House

Today, it seems as though Anton is taking care of himself physically, mentally, and just in general. He has been very emotional and stressed out lately, so I think he is taking the time to handle his responsibilities more carefully and remember to eat well. He may have had a spook in which he realized he has been neglecting himself in some ways. He not only will pay more attention to his own wellbeing but those very close to him today.

Shotaro

Page of Cups

Oracle: 4th house + Black Moon Lilith

This is a bit weird. It seems that either A: Shotaro will be the first to know some very shocking news, or B: he plans to do something fairly shocking or deliver said shocking news. There is something he may need to hide for a while, but the consensus is that it is relatively good? If I had to say what the general vibe for today only was, it is about having to keep a secret and/or wait for something to reveal itself. I have said it before, but Taro has a crazy intuition. He sees things before they occur. Idk why he saw, but hopefully, we can see it too soon.

No notes today. I'm sleepy

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

PREVIOUS

FIRST

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

weird little gripe that's. the smallest deal in the world but I fully support ppl who hc gale as fat or not ripped. I myself love me some soft gale. but the gripe I have is that a lot of ppl are like "He DOES NOT have abs it makes NO SENSE I refuse to believe it" but like. It does make total sense? Like it's one thing to prefer him without the muscle but it's another to be like "ummm that's wrong. He's just a soft little nerd"

Like....this is Gale of Waterdeep. A very proud man who cares very much about his title and his image. Is it really so farfetched to believe that he would also be meticulous about his body? And while he's up in his tower after he gets the orb, can't you imagine that he'd perhaps be even more meticulous about working out, for the mere fact that it's an aspect of his body that he can still control? Or even that our worrisome wizard uses exercise to de-stress?

I guess my complaint is that some people see something that doesn't vibe with their idea of a character so they just change it, rather than thinking of reasons as to why the character is like that instead. Like yeah, we all know they had limited body models so that's likely why all the guys have rock hard bods lol but also it's fun to use it as a chance to add to a character's depth rather than just... ignoring it

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Pure

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Halfblood!Reader

Warnings: Mattheo is a jerk, insults towards half-bloods, idk

Mattheo and you have always been enemies. Mattheo insults you perhaps to try to distract himself from his undeniable feelings for you, you insult him back, thats part of you routine. One night, in the common room, Mattheo goes too far and you cry. He feels guilty and tries to fix it, but you have had enough.

The Slytherin common room was dim, the flickering green fire casting shadows over the stone walls as you tried to focus on your notes. It was late, and you were hoping to get a few minutes of quiet studying, but the familiar sound of footsteps approaching made you tense up. Without even turning, you knew who it was.

Mattheo Riddle strode in, his left foot repetitively tapping the floor as he lingered just close enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze. He watched you for a moment, his face unreadable, his stance unusually calm. Normally, he was quick to throw in a smug remark, but tonight he just stood there, looking at you with an intensity you couldn’t quite place.

“Still studying?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. You almost missed the gentleness there, but it was quickly overrun by a familiar sneer as he added, “Thought you’d be used to all this by now.”

You glanced up, surprised to see him looking at you with something close to curiosity. “Some of us actually care about our studies,” you said, keeping your tone neutral, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves his stare was stirring up.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, an almost mocking note creeping into his voice. “Trying to prove you’re as good as the rest of us, aren’t you?”

The words hit a nerve, but you ignored it, burying yourself back in your notes. This was how it always was with Mattheo—him throwing barbs, you dodging them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He moved closer, leaning over your shoulder, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You can study as much as you like, but you know you’ll never be more than what you are. You’re never going to be one of us.”

You stiffened, feeling the familiar ache that his words always seemed to stir up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Mattheo?”

His smirk widened, and there was a flicker of cruelty in his eyes. “Come on, don’t make me spell it out,” he sneered. “You can wear the Slytherin crest, you can memorize all the spells you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not pure. That’s something you can’t study your way out of.”

His words hurt, they were calculated to wound, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. But you forced them down, refusing to give him the satisfaction. This was Mattheo’s favorite way to get to you—digging at the one thing he knew would make you feel like an outsider. But tonight, the anger in his words seemed more intense, his gaze harsher, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d come here tonight with every intention of making you feel as low as possible.

You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you could muster. “I didn’t realize blood status was so important to you, Mattheo. Didn’t think the Dark Lord’s son would be so old-fashioned.”

A flash of anger crossed his face, and his smirk faltered. But he recovered quickly, stepping back and crossing his arms, his expression hardening. “It’s not about being old-fashioned. It’s about knowing your place,” he said coldly. “I don’t know why you’re so desperate to prove you belong here when you’ll never be a real Slytherin.”

Your chest tightened, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You looked away, trying to keep your expression calm, but his voice just kept cutting through the air, each word sharper than the last.

“It’s pathetic, really,” he went on, his tone dripping with disdain. “Watching you pretend like any of this matters, like you’re somehow the exception. But the truth is, you can’t change what you are.”

“Why do you even care?” you shot back, unable to hold the question in any longer. “Why are you so determined to tear me down every chance you get?”

He opened his mouth, a flicker of something softer crossing his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with that same cold, calculating look. “I don’t care,” he said flatly, though his tone wavered for a second. “I just think it’s pathetic, the way you try so hard to be one of us.”

The words sank in, every syllable feeling like another twist of the knife. You could feel the heat of tears in your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, refusing to let him see how much his words had cut. But he saw something in your expression—some tiny flicker of pain—and for just a moment, his own face softened, like he was almost… regretful.

He shifted awkwardly, glancing down and rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, his voice low, almost unsure. “I just—”

“Yes, you did,” you interrupted, your voice trembling despite yourself. “You meant every word. You always do.”

He looked at you, his face falling, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. For a second, it almost looked like he wanted to take it all back, but he seemed lost, unable to find the words.

“I just…” he started, but you cut him off.

“I don’t care, Mattheo,” you said, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady. “I don’t care what you meant, or why you feel the need to make me feel like this. Just leave me alone.”

You watched as the regret in his eyes deepened, his expression twisting with something almost like pain. He looked away, his shoulders slumping as though he was trying to hide the guilt etched across his face. He hesitated, lingering for a moment, like he wanted to apologize but couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice barely audible. “If that’s what you want.”

There was no arrogance in his tone, no sneer in his expression. Just a hollow, defeated look as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty common room. But just before he reached the door, he stopped and glanced back at you, his eyes shadowed with something raw and unspoken, as if he was silently begging for another chance.

But you stayed silent, your eyes cold as you watched him go, refusing to give him even the slightest hint of forgiveness.

And as the door closed behind him, you let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling heavy in your chest. He was gone, but the ache of his insults lingered, echoing through the empty room.

[kamisatomay018]

Thinking about Zayne

Something that always intrigues me about Zayne is the fact that so far, he is the only love interest who canonically has more than one variation of him existing at the same time.

Like maybe I’m over analysing but bear with me here-

- Xavier doesn’t have incarnations as such, he is over 200 years old himself so he has experienced everything we know about him so far in one single lifetime. He has been with multiple versions of MC, but he hasn’t forgotten anything, because he’s the ONLY version of himself we know of so far (Xavier girlies if I’m wrong feel free to correct me)

- Rafayel has had many reincarnations and lifetimes with several MCs, but he remembers every one of them. However, he has single-handedly been the god of sea, abysswalker, and the other lifetimes in his memories that we have had a glimpse at. What’s important to note is that he has died and been reincarnated. Two versions of him didn’t exist at the same time.

- Now we don’t really know much about Sylus, but from what we have gathered from his memories so far, he has definitely died in one lifetime or more, and MC has been there to witness it. He obviously knows way more about MC, because like every other love interest he too had a history with her. However, I doubt there have been any indications so far of there being another version of him out there somewhere.

However, Zayne is a special case.

First and foremost, Dawnbreaker’s existence in itself is the weirdest thing ever. How is it that he exists in an alternate universe, one which is set in the future technically speaking, but both Dawnbreaker and Zayne know about each other and Dawnbreaker once even managed to very briefly take over Doctor Zayne’s consciousness, leading MC to say the infamous line “You’re not Dr. Zayne. Who are you?”

They exist at the same time which is really very interesting to me because their worlds are so drastically different from each other’s.

Then we have Foreseer. As Astra’s tool, he cannot die. He is sealed, perhaps in some form of never ending sleep but he can be awoken. Which is what I think Zayne tries to research about on his trips to Mt. Eternal where foreseer’s tower could be. And let’s not forget that Foreseer knew about a Zayne, as it was written in his book about botany and caring for flowers. It is also believed that Foreseer or some future version of Zayne is actually helping him find a solution to breaking Astra’s curse; even if it means that his future self will cease to exist.

And then we have Master of Fate. Now listen- he was a literal GOD. And yes ik you could say that even Rafayel as a god did die but! There was literally no hint ever that master of fate died. In fact; MC even said that as long as there is the mountain and the tree, Zayne will always be there. So even master of fate could potentially be alive.

Imagine y’all like 4 fucking Zayne’s being alive and ALL of them fall for MC. Like.

But why and how are there so many variations of him alive at the same time? Dawnbreaker’s existence puzzles me the most because he doesn’t even have any direct relation to any of this, his world is totally different. And the amount of emphasis on him is also very sus.

I swear if even one of them dies I’m throwing hands at INFOLD!😭

Anyway I’d love to know your thoughts about this so feel free to lemme know in the comments, and please do fill me in if I’m missing something!🫶

[kurishiri]

Premium END ┊ Dark If —Alfons Sylvatica—

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: near death experience, named character death.

(…W-wait, what…?)

(For a while now, why was I…)

Why was I trying to find Alfons in other people?

Kate: ——!

(I… Alfons——)

???: Snow White.

Kate: Alfons, I——

Natalia: I’m the first prince of the neighboring country. My name is Natalia.

(It’s... not Alfons.)

Kate: Ah, it’s a pleasure to be your acquaintance.

Blue-eyed prince: Hey, look. Isn’t that Prince Natalia from the Adel Empire?

Green-eyed prince: He’s princely in wealth, looks, and character. This... isn’t our time to shine, perhaps.

(...Well it sure is clear to me now that I’ve caught the attention of someone highly affluent.)

Natlia: Princess, how about we talk some more over there? I brought some souvenirs as well.

Seeing that beaming smile, I felt left with no other choice.

Kate: Ah, alright. Then, shall we go?

Alfons the Mirror: .........

Since the night of the banquet, Prince Natalia stayed at this castle for a few days, and he invited me every day on a date.

Natalia: Princess. Do you see those flowers over there? They are as beautiful as you, I would say.

Kate: You flatter me. But, thank you.

Prince Natalia was just as the rumors told — he was perfect in every sense of the word.

He might very well be suited for the prince in the story of Snow White.

(If I choose him, the story will safely reach its happy ending.)

(...And if I do that, I will be able to return to the reality from where I came... I think.)

But even so, I found my gaze searching for that villainous smile of a mirror.

—— Neutral POV ——

Staring out in the garden where Natalia and Kate were, Elbert murmured.

Queen Elbert: That prince is Kate’s prince, and the missing thing in this world... perhaps?

Alfons the Mirror: Who knows? Perhaps so, although I know as well as the next person.

Queen Elbert: ...hehe.

Alfons the Mirror: What is it?

Queen Elbert: It is the first time I have seen such a look on your face.

Alfons the Mirror: ......... (O_O)

Queen Elbert: .........

E: Al. There is something I would like you to look into about that prince.

—— Time skip ——

On a certain day, Prince Natalia requested to take a look at my room.

(It is dangerous to be alone with a man, but it should be fine if it’s during the day, right?)

While drinking tea in my room, the conversation blossomed from there.

Natalia: Ahaha, it really is a joy to talk with you like this, princess.

N: Ah, that’s right.

N: There is actually something I haven’t yet given you.

Kate: You do?

Natalia: Indeed, it is this. Some sugar candies from my country.

Natalia dropped a single candy, which looked like jewels, into the tea.

Natalia: One of these makes the tea taste even better. Now, have a sip.

Kate: Then, I’ll do tha...

Just as I was about to bring the teacup to my lips, all of a sudden I remembered Alfons’ words.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: A poisoned apple may not necessarily take the form of an apple itself. Do be careful from now on.

—— End flashback ——

(...Come to think of it, why did he want to check out my room anyway?)

(And besides that, if he had a souvenir, he should have given it earlier...)

Kate: ...Um, actually, I’m feeling quite full right now. So I will have some later.

In a moment, before my eyes the prince’s character distorted, and——

Natalia: ..................the hell?

N: Hah, jeez, you’re so troublesome. Stop dawdling and drink it already!

Kate: Eek...!

He roughly grabbed my head and forcefully pushed the teacup to my mouth.

Kate: No—stop it...!

Natalia: I’m gonna need you to die. And then I can kill the Queen while she’s crying and grieving over you.

N: Then amid the confusion, I will take over this country! So that’s why, drink it now!

(Ack, he’s so strong... I can’t resist.)

(Someone, anyone...)

(Alfons——)

Alfons the Mirror: If you two are holding a romantic clandestine meeting, I must ask you to be a tad more quiet while doing so.

Natalia: Guagh...!?

Alfons the Mirror: See, now your princess has been snatched right away from you.

Alfons’ saber pierced through the heart of the prince’s body.

Alfons the Mirror: Ahh! To see the carpet so stained red with blood! I can practically feel the pain of replacing it.

Kate: ...Alfons. And Queen Elbert too... but why?

Queen Elbert: There was a rumor that the neighboring country was scheming to invade us.

E: And when I had Al look into it, the rumors came out to be true.

Alfons the Mirror: I was a bit reckless, skewering the prince the way I did, but it poses no particular problem, I presume?

Queen Elbert: Yes, there is no problem. ...Our neighbors were the ones who initiated the attack.

(...T-thank goodness. I’m glad this country and Queen Elbert are alright...)

Kate: *cough*...

Alfons the Mirror: Kate?

With my body giving out on me, Alfons supported me with his arms.

Alfons the Mirror: Don’t tell me you drank it?

Kate: I’m...sorry... I couldn’t avoid it completely...

Queen Elbert: ...I will call the doctor immediately. I will leave Kate to you, Al.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and my head was becoming foggy, as though a mist had blanketed over my mind.

Even at such a time, the arms wrapped around my back were so gentle, I felt I might cry.

(...Hey, Alfons. You... are truly a kind person, aren’t you?)

The times Alfons would become a meddlesome presence to me was always whenever I was feeling down.

(You are someone who knows exactly what others want when they are struggling at their lowest point.)

(...I am sure... you are someone who has suffered deeply before.)

I didn’t have to find the missing thing anymore. I didn’t care if I couldn’t return to reality.

(I like you, Alfons.)

Kate: ...Al...fons. How about we... make a bet?

K: If I die, then you win. And, if I don’t die... please listen to what I have to say... without running away.

Alfons the Mirror: Alright then, you have yourself a bet. I will look forward to how it turns out then.

The mirror called Alfons reached out to softly stroke the back of my neck with his fingertips.

Alfons the Mirror: You are no longer in pain. You are only seeing a peaceful dream.

(.........ngh...)

Alfons the Mirror: Good morning, Kate.

Kate: Al...fons?

Alfons the Mirror: This is the underworld. Unfortunately, you have already passed away after that.

A: And Queen Elbert was so much in grief he wouldn’t even swallow his food. As if he wasn’t already a light eater too!

I propped myself up from the bed and stared at my limbs.

Kate: ...I... am living, aren’t I? No matter from which angle I look.

Alfons the Mirror: Indeed, the stuff you drank was poison, beyond a shadow of doubt.

A: However, you consumed very little, so it wasn’t lethal.

A: And so we arrive here, at this very celebratory moment of having lived! Cue a round of applause from me here.

(W—wh...!)

Kate: Ah, jeez, my gosh——! Stop with your theatrics!

Alfons the Mirror: Aha, ow ow ow. Goodness, you sure do wake up quick, don’t you.

I hit his chest repeatedly, and when I stopped, I looked up at Alfons.

Kate: ...I won the bet. Alfons, I——

Alfons the Mirror: Before that, could you allow me a few words first?

Kate: ...? Sure...

Alfons the Mirror: Due to some mysterious process, you’ve wandered here as Snow White.

A: And so, someday, something may end up sending you back to reality.

Kate: You mean...

Alfons the Mirror: What a comedy it would be, indeed, were we to be separated the moment we chose to love each other, no?

A: Ahh, and there is also the possibility your memories may be wiped clean as well.

(Ahh, I see. He is such a kind person, even in times like these...)

Unable to hold it any longer, I grabbed Alfons’ collar and kissed him.

Alfons the Mirror: ......... (O_O)

Kate: ...Just as you say, there’s no way to tell what may happen tomorrow.

K: But, right now, I want you. And besides...

K: How could I ever forget, seeing how deeply I’ve fallen for you?

Alfons the Mirror: Hehe...

Kate: W-what’s so funny?

Alfons the Mirror: No, it’s just... your love is so direct, I couldn’t help but feel moved...

Kate: ...Somehow, I feel like you’re making fun of me though.

Alfons the Mirror: Whoops, outed so soon?

Kate: Jeez...

Alfons the Mirror: Haa, I surrender. If you insist, then it can’t be helped.

A: By all means, be played by this mirror to the fullest, so your life becomes an utter mess.

(...Somehow, it seems I’m always the one stumbling atop Alfons’ palm.)

It was frustrating, and in a small act of resistance, I tried to look away.

Alfons the Mirror: ...Hey, Kate. Look over here, why don’t you.

Kate: Ah...

Those naughty hands combed across my waist,

and my body, used to this pleasure, reacted.

Alfons the Mirror: If you don’t, I won’t be able to give you those oh-so-pleasurable kisses now, won’t I.

Alfons gave a poke to my pouting lips with his fingertips.

(This is bad... I really want to kiss Alfons.)

(And I want to do lots of pleasurable things too... but.)

Kate: ...If there’s something like love between you and me, some process might work its gears...

Alfons the Mirror: Come again?

Kate: ...You know, if we share a true love’s kiss, I won’t return back to reality... right?

(I was just talking big before, but maybe it’s a bit too early...)

Alfons the Mirror: ......... (O_O)

A: Ahha! Truly, you are...

Kate: Don’t laugh... I’m being serious here.

Alfons the Mirror: That definitely won’t happen.

Kate: And what makes you so confident?

Alfons the Mirror: ...You wish to know the answer?

Fin.

← prev epi → bitter

ko-fi ☕️ ┋ comms🤍

[nightoncydonia]

It's WIP Wednesday again so I thought I'd share a little bit of a thing I've been working on for a while now. I don't know if or when it will ever see the light but well, we'll see...

“I can’t lose you, Obi-Wan. I know it’s not the Jedi way, I know you would lecture me about attachment and how there is no death, only the Force and I should learn to trust It, but I just can’t.” His eyes were brimming with unshed tears, the expression painted on his features so serious as his hands faintly shook in Obi-Wan’s grasp. “I can’t lose you.” He repeated softly, a murmur that broke Obi-Wan’s heart in his vulnerability, as if Anakin was still that trembling nine year old who fisted at his robe, the flames of Qui-Gon’s pire dancing on his face.

“I can’t lose you.” Anakin said again, tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he let go of Obi-Wan’s hands to hold onto his tunics instead and bury his face in the other man’s chest, body shaking from sobs. Obi-Wan froze for a moment, a retort about what his old Master could possibly still do for Anakin dying on his lips as the full force of the younger man’s fear finally settled in.

Anakin was terrified, holding onto Obi-Wan as if he was afraid he would slip from his fingers were he to loosen his grasp, and could Obi-Wan really blame him? Would he react so differently were their roles reversed? Was it still so important to pretend Anakin wasn’t everything for him, that he wasn’t attached beyond repair and had been for quite some time, perhaps even before the war had started?

So he held Anakin back, circling him with his arms and pressing him closer against his chest, kissing the crown of his head and burying his nose in his golden curls. And Anakin squeezed him back, harder, lifting his head until his face was a breath away from Obi-Wan’s. His eyes were glassy and red and his voice quivered as he whispered against Obi-Wan’s lips “Take me, please.”

Obi-Wan’s conflict was, once again, short lived. Because Anakin was right, come tomorrow night he really could be dead, as a matter of fact both of them could, so why deny themselves further?

Would taking him now make that much of a difference? Would it really matter so much that he finally gave in to his desires and cross this last bridge when he already loved Anakin with every fibre of his being? What was sex when they had already belonged to each other in every possible way, when they already lived inside each other’s mind through that bond neither of them had ever dared to sever?

And so he complied, kissing the salty streaks of tears from Anakin’s cheeks, devouring his soft mouth until they were both breathless and shuddering with desire. They stumbled towards Obi-Wan’s bedroom, peeling each other’s clothes off with urgency and kissing fervently, but when Obi-Wan had Anakin splayed naked on his bed he slowed his pace, taking his time.

It was the first time they came together like this and it might very well be the last, so Obi-Wan was bent on committing every single detail of Anakin’s body to his mind, on cataloguing each and every sound that left the other man’s lips, every sigh and moan.

His fingers trembled as he ever so gently carved a space for himself in Anakin’s body, slowly opening him up with the utmost care. And when he finally pushed into him, he let go of all his shields, all his defences, taking his pleasure and giving equally until they became one, hands entwined and heated whispers of love on their lips.

In the dark of the night, with only the moons of Coruscant as their witnesses he had promised to never leave him, that once he returned victorious from having defeated Grievous they would live their truth, leave the Order if it came down to it, because there was nothing, nothing in the entire galaxy, not even the Jedi, that to Obi-Wan mattered more than Anakin.

And Anakin, in turn, had told him that he loved him, that he wanted nothing more than to be with Obi-Wan for as long as Obi-Wan would allow him to and that he dreamed of raising his children with him and grow old together and Obi-Wan’s heart had swelled with more love than he could possibly hope to contain.

So it spilled across their bond, enveloping them both in warmth and light for what they prayed wasn’t the last time.

But oh, how cruel could the Force be.

[authoratmidnight]

Unfortunately I have robots on the brain + a love for a good heel face turn.

So fuck it, Knock Out/Break Down defection.

It starts with Breakdown getting abducted by M.E.C.H. and Megatron writing him off as dead/not worth saving. After all, he let *humans8 get the drop on him, whatever happens is his own fault.

Knock Out is appalled and rightly so. They're just, gonna abandon one of their own? He's not a flier tho so going to rescue Breakdown himself is not going to be fast.

Which means that when the Autobots end up rescuing him, there is no Decepticons to show up. No one ever arrives to save him. Only his enemies.

And by the time Knock Out *does* show up, there's no one there. No Breakdown, no Autobots, no M.E.C.H. and he has to return dejected and empty handed. And worse, no one seems to care. (this also means he has no idea of Breakdown's fate, is he alive? dead?)

So they drag him back to the base so Ratchet can patch him up cause he is in rough shape mind you. And it is just, weird all around.

On the Autobots' side of things is the glaring fact that there is a Decepticon in their base. He's not trying to kill them but like, he IS there. It's so weird.

On Breakdown's side it's the fact that his enemy is helping him, providing him aid. That his enemy seems to care more about him than his own comrades. And of course, watching how they interact with each other, with Optimus is eye opening. The differences between them is startling.

The rest of the Autobots do respect Optimus but they don't live in fear of him, not how they do around Megatron. He's not scary, he doesn't yell lose his temper at them, he doesn't strike them and break things. He's, nice.

And while they banter with each other and sometimes argue, it's never mean spirited or cruel.

He stays there for a bit to recover and he starts to wonder, what he should do? He can't possibly go back to the Decepticons, they'd never take him back, especially after this. But, it's clearly not safe to be out on his own given that M.E.C.H. is out there and what they did to him.

So he does the almost unthinkable. Asks if he would be allowed to stay with them for now. Just while he decides what he wants to do. If he has to stay in the base then he will. They decide to allow it because well, he hasn't really done anything to them thus far.

Trying to interact with them is so awkward though, and he spends most of his time doing essentially grunt work around the base. The first one to speak to him and extend a hand is Bulkhead. They are rivals after all and Bulkhead is the only one he has a prior history with. It's so weird not trying to punch each other out, even if Bulkhead says they can go for another round at a later time and he will kick his tailpipe.

(the whole time Knock Out is moping and feeling disheartened cause he just wants his guy back)

Eventually, the Autobots do sort of warm up to Breakdown. When he's not punching them out he's not really so bad.

At some point, he goes out on a mission with Bulkhead (listen, he's recovered and he can't stay inside all the time, he's going stir crazy, and if anyone can handle him it's Bulkhead). And leaving the shielded protection of the base alerts the Decepticons that he is alive, cause they have his life signal again.

And Knock Out is not taking no for an answer on going to find him. He'll piggy back on Starscream or the Seekers if he must.

Cue a VERY dramatic meeting of Knock Out and Breakdown, made all the more tense and dramatic given that he's in the company of an Autobot and NOT trying to fight him. Naturally, Knock Out tries to convince him to go back, and it IS tempting, if only cause going back means Knock Out is there. But he can't exactly guarantee that Breakdown won't be punished for, all this, so he has to decline.

Insert a moment of him really showing which side he's on (perhaps not even consciously) when he protects Bulkhead from another Vehicon or something. Bulkhead is shook cause a part of him was expecting Breakdown to go with Knock Out. this doe sin fact help endear him a bit more to the Autobots.

But now, Knock Out knows that Breakdown is alive. And by the Allspark he WILL be reunited with his partner one way or another. Of course, he can't contact him, he's shielded by the autobot base. But he does leave it from time to time, and then he can pick up his signal. Ofc he keeps this a secret b/c once it came to light that Breakdown was siding with the autobots he was marked as a traitor. No one talks about him anymore, and they certainly aren't gonna try and bring him back.

He absolutely is plotting ways to get out and meet with him/contact him, to at the very least just talk with him. And eventually somehow he does. Catches Breakdown when he's out alone (or at least, the bot he went out with is not in the immediate vicinity to be seen). And it's tense and emotional. Cause Breakdown is still deeply hurt that no one but his (former) enemies came to save him. Makes a bot think. Knock Out swears he did try to come, he was the only one that wanted to.

The conversation is interrupted when whichever Autobot was with him comes back and Knock Out books it. Even if he wanted to leave with Breakdown, there's some thing he needs to take care of on The Nemesis (basically purging any files regarding either of them/deleting them from the database so they can't be tracked anymore).

Which he does do and has to beat one hell of a hasty retreat when Soundwave catches on and alerts the others as to what he's doing. This is effectively his point of no return. He ground bridges out, with Cons on his tail. And calls to Breakdown for a rescue (I'm thinking, before they parted on their last meeting he gave him some kind of communicator or something).

Breakdown is quite surprised when he does get a distress call from Knock Out, who is currently running for his damn life cause if they catch him they will kill him. And frankly he does like living.

Breakdown DOES end up going to get him, by plugging the coordinates he got into the ground bridge and bridging out (he's watched Ratchet AND Knock Out do this, he knows how to do it). Which also means the Autobots are chasing after him cause dude what the hell??

They do manage to find Knock Out, still running for his life. And Breakdown is gonna bring him back even if they complain (also he may or may not be wounded, I haven't decided yet, tho wounded would be some fun :p)

So now the Autobots have TWO Decepticons in their base and boy is it weird. Also now they gotta explain this to Optimus (who more just wants to know why Breakdown went behind his back, you could have asked bro. (Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission I suppose).

Also explaining this to the humans. Breakdown was one thing but Knock Out? oof.

(Knock Out has some second thought upon meeting the humans b/c oh NO they're everywhere and gonna get their grimey weird hands all over him and yes ok he knows his alt mode is sick as hell but NO they can't go for a spin in him! Someone help!)

It would, imo, be a really funny dynamic. Also Knock Out has dirt on the Cons I'm sure. He is a petty bitch

(The second amusing option I had for getting Knock Out there was finding him while out on a mission, maybe after he sneakily purged what needed to be purged, and he just goes 'well, if I'm not being invited back, I guess you'll have to take me prisoner?' and Breakdown just rolls his eyes and "apprehends" him and brings him back. Literally no one is buying this at all lol)

Part fix it fic, part heel face turn, all totally shameless KOBD lol

[bonelessicecream]

[fin.]

Headcanons:

Ji gave Jiequan a nickname because prior to meeting Ji, Jiequan's name had never been called fondly. He flinched every time Ji called for him. They tried a few nicknames, but ultimately settled on "Xiao Quan" because Jiequan was terribly small for his age... (And perhaps also because Ji hoped he would not grow up too quickly - not like those other youths they once knew, who pursued power to a terrible end.)

Jiequan only started referring to himself in the third person after he met Ji. He never had the chance to be a proper child before that. He outgrew the habit as he got older, of course, but he was excellent at playing up his cuteness as a child.

Jiequan has a brief period where he thinks Lear is really cool. That's why he has a ponytail as a teenager.

...In some ways, Jiequan only grew up to be what he was because he encountered Ji. He wanted to be loved, desperately, and forged himself in imitation of those heroes that Ji seemed strangely fond of in the histories they recounted. If anything, perhaps the problem was that his imitation was too good. He became a larger than life character, an act, a collection of someone else's ideas- and lost the sincerity which made him so endearing as a child. Yet at the same time, this turned him into someone Ji could no longer accept: a cruel, sadistic, and self-centered man who willfully inflicted pain onto others for his own ends.

But Jiequan could no longer turn back. He came to harbour a strange mix of bitter resentment and desperate longing for Ji's affection. If guoshi didn't approve of his actions, then guoshi had to be wrong, because Jiequan- Jiequan was doing everything right. This is what he wanted, right? This is what they asked for. He listened to Ji's prophecies and counsel as guoshi because he could not let go, and yet dismissed their words as merely the anxieties of an old Solarian.

When he met Yi, the first thing that struck Jiequan was how deeply unlikeable this tiny runt was. Sharp-tongued, standoffish, and disinterested in anything that didn't appeal to him, Yi was the type of person who made enemies as easily as breathing. And yet... He was outstanding. His martial prowess and scientific skill, for one matter, and for the other... the fact that Yi was undeniably loved. They weren't so different really, Jiequan and Yi- and yet, Jiequan was alone while Yi had friends and family who cared for him.

So came the second thing that struck Jiequan about Yi: he wanted him, and he wanted to break him. What would it be like, he wondered, to have someone finally hold Jiequan and only Jiequan in their eyes? Even if the emotion was motivated by pure hatred- what would it be like to occupy the whole of someone's mind? To be seen as himself, instead of a ghost from the past? If he took Yi apart, perhaps Jiequan could finally figure out what allowed Yi to cross the invisible wall between himself and others that Jiequan could not. At the very least, he would break the wall between himself and Yi - by any means necessary.

Jiequan wondered, in the end, what should he have done to keep holding on to the warm hand that saved him in the ruins of his childhood? What could he have done? He wanted too much, maybe- more than he could achieve as a weak, coddled child. Maybe his sin was that he could not stay a child forever. (That does not mean he ever really grew up.)

(Ji always saw him as that small, bright Xiao Quan who asked him for fairytales with sparkling eyes. That child simply wandered too far into his fantasies for Ji to find him before the end- not unlike another man Ji once knew, no-- but they cared for the two differently. He never did quite manage to make Xiao Quan see that.)

Bonus:

[grimgrinningghost456]

✨Random headcanons that popped into my head, Hazbin hotel edition✨

This will include ships I ship, random things I feel like a character has/does/likes, and perhaps a new flavor of husband shenanigans. As you know I’m a multi-shipper in two senses: I like multiple ships for multiple characters, and I like multiple ships that has one half of the couple being the same throughout variations. Without further ado, here we go!

Starting off strong with the Big man of hell himself, Luci

Lucifer💫🐥🐍🍎: like most fandoms, I tend to have Luci enjoy sweets and have a special fondness for apples. I personally feel the Morningstar crest being apple-inclusive was Lilith’s idea, as Lucifer was depressed and she wanted to give Heaven a middle finger. Apples are both a nostalgic and bittersweet thing for Luci, but he can’t help but to continue in the indulgence. I’d imagine Lucifer would have a smoked-apple kind of scent about him, whether that’s from product or natural musk/energy depends on my mood. I also think that he was always a shape-shifter, and a lot of his forms were inspiration for creatures that would dwell on earth, as Lucifer was the favorite. I also think that fish and snake scales, fawn-spots, fireflies, bioluminescence, and flowers having scent was all Lucifer’s doing; although they were altered. He wanted the animals on earth to sparkle and be full of life, but was ultimately brought down, and “appeased” with similar. But entirely different outcomes. I truly believe that on top of short kings depression, he has PTSD, ADHD, and Autism on top of it. Once again, I don’t always stack that on him, but meh. I also have Lucifer in a constant glamour, hiding extensive damage from the fall, which only Belphagore, who cares for his medical needs, has seen. Usually for a ship his paramour gets to see eventually for plot. He has arthritis and does actually need to utilize his cane as a cane, but hates it. Hes socially awkward as everyone knows. Luci does have a royal guard to defend his palace and hellborns who live in pride, as they’re not sinners and therefore shouldn’t be exterminated. He can go full devil and definitely has done what some legends depict the devil of doing. Hes not proud of it, but it is what it is. This boi can be touch-averse due to trauma, but with his self-loathing and depression I believe it’d take a lot for him to voice that fact. I also don’t have Lucifer and Charlie’s relationship quite so distant as in canon. It’s still somewhat estranged, but Lucifer was helping her with the big changes. Such as moving into the hotel, and Vaggie. Which I’ll get into later.

Moving on, we have the Deerman!

Alastor📻🦌🔪: Alastor tends to represent non-sex repulsed in my version of him, but every once in a while I adjust where he is on the Ace and sometimes aromantic spectrum. I have Al as a man who has Antisocial disorder, so romance and interacting with others is as much of a mystery to him as it is to interact with the shady deerman himself. I bounce between Alastor’s hygiene being really good or really bad. Partly because of information from Viv, and partly due to the time period Alastor lived and died in. I tend to really lean heavily into his Cajun upbringing. This means that my Depiction of Alastor has a coming-and-going cajun accent that will slip out on the occasion he forgets to keep the Transatlantic accent going. Usually like when he wakes up first thing in the morning or when he has a moment of snapping emotionally. His mama bounces between being in hell and in heaven. The identity of who his birth father is, also bounces around. Once again, like basic fandom who add Alastor’s childhood into the story, I have his Mother as a POC, while his father is a white man who tends to be the toxic ticking time-bomb that starts Alastor’s decent into murder, madness and mayhem. I’m a big radioapple shipper and a big radio-silence enjoyer as well. So looking into a “well into the relationship” scenario in which the deer and the short king are dating, Cajun comfort food is a must when the little devil is having a day where he can’t make himself get out of bed. Still touch-averse, and in any relationship he’s in (whether romantic or QPR) he usually is quick to figure out a system to have his partner silently ask permission to give some form of touch or affection.

Once again, moving on! We’ll do the Princess of hell, Charlotte Charlie Morningstar!

Charlie🎆🌈💖🐐: I actually try to tone Charlie WAY down as far as the Disney Princess behavior she has in canon. (Dont hate on me, but I found her character VERY hard to swallow. I get she was sheltered being royalty and all but with a depressed father and a mother trying to raise an army against Heaven, I just don’t think she’d be so ditzy and gullible towards overlords and other demons. I also was very annoyed that showing authority with her role of future ruler was seen as “mean”) So I think she still has that bubbly and positive attitude, but is much more observant and guarded when Alastor first comes to visit. I also have Charlie lean more into her abilities as heir and as a Nephilim to deal with threats such as Valentino. Yes, Angel Dust was still pissed about Charlie bursting into the studio, but I’ve decided there was more of a serious confrontation before Charlie felt guilt for her actions of butting in. She’s a lot more confident in her skills as far as knowing how to lead, but struggles in getting people to listen to her, much like in canon. The difference is that she chooses to have a more down to earth description of how to try and redeem sinners. All-and all she’s more organized, a little less oblivious, and more fierce when she needs to be. She actually knew about Vaggie being an angel when she found her in the alleyway. The wings being ripped off was a give-away along with the gold blood. So she took Vaggie to Lucifer, who helped Vaggie recover and had her join the royal guard.

Okay. Final character for this group, but not for tonight, Vagi-I mean Vaggie!

Vaggie⚔️🌈🪽: For Vaggie I don’t actually have too much different from her personality in canon compared to the others. I think we’ll get more from her in season 2 now that the big angel secret is out of the way. Speaking of which, that’s my biggest change. When Charlie found Vaggie, it was immediately obvious that the woman was a fallen angel. So she was healed and helped into recovery by Lucifer and Charlie before joining Hell’s Royal guard and quickly raising up to be pretty high in rank. Lucifer assigned her to protect Charlie during the redemption project. She fell first but Charlie fell harder. I headcanon these two to be engaged during the events of the hazbin hotel, so Vaggie is technically an official member of the Morningstar family tree. She also has some self loathing, PTSD, and deals with minor intrusive thoughts. She struggles to stamp out any holier than thou emotions and judgements she learned and retained during her time with Adam’s army. She also has a hard time being casual which she bonds with Lucifer over. She secretly has always wanted to dye her hair pinks but will die before admitting it to anyone. Has a bit of a sweet tooth, hates most men, and rock as it gives her Flashbacks of Adam being Adam.

That’s pretty much it for these characters!

@bendy-n-stuff helped and made some of these ideas with me about these characters. So if I forgot anything, or if you want to add anything on, have at it, girlfriend.

As always questions, comments, and thoughts are appreciated. I love discussions and debates as long as we’re polite and respectful of each others opinions!

[mushibashiraas]

warning(s): they/them pronouns, bisexual rindou, spirals, depression, self-harm/“picking at the skin on their fingertips again,” mentions of cheating, rin being a d¡ck (but only bc he met reader in a weird, awkward situation), hair pulling, the occasional swear word, waist-specifications, reader has a ton of stuffed animals/plushies, suggestive comments (2 references towards the end), and affectionate nicknames.

“hey, rin....?” they hesitantly ask their boyfriend of two years, eyes darting around every which way but at him. they've started picking at the skin on their fingertips again, he notices.

rindou mutes his gaming mic and turns his chair around. “yeah, baby?” sliding his headphones off of his ears with one hand, he reaches out with the other hand and pulls them towards him until they end up between his legs. wrapping an arm around their small, — as he calls it — “cute” waist he pulls them closer until they almost fall on top of him.

getting the message, they straddle rindou and reach up into his messy blonde streaks distracting their fingers with the lines of bright, cyan-blue running through them.

they don't want to seem angry at rin for this because gods above! they could never be angry at him. their angel. their rock. their peter parker or miles morales. he's always looking out for them. always putting them first before his own needs. they think — no... they know that he'd drop the entire world if they asked him too.

but at the same time.... they just love waking up to his soft features in the morning on the rare occasion when they wake up first. they love when they go to bed and the last thing they see at night is rindou, purple eyes softening and gazing at them as if they hung the stars in his sky. his face relaxing as his eyelids slowly droop trying to and failing to fight off the god hypnos' spell.

so then why? why does he turn around on some nights? or what about those other nights where he'll join them in bed late after staying up playing with his old gang friends and he crawls in behind them and snuggles them in his sleep. he doesn't bother turning them around to face him and kiss his cute nose goodnight. did they say something or do something? did their relationship change? does he not love them? is he cheating on them with someone else? perhaps someone physically and mentally stronger than them caught his eye at the club the other night when they turned him down to join him and ran. he'd be better off with them than they're sorry ass—

a harsh tug on their hair rips a sharp whine from their throat. “what the hell, rin?! what was that for?” they pull away from him and glare at him one hand reaching up behind their head where rindou had just yanked.

“i've been talkin’ to ya this whole time, babe.” he doesn't look mad or annoyed but he certainly looks worried. “you know you've been talkin’ this whole time, yeah? and i've been trying to tell you something and explain to you why i've been sleeping with my back to you or sleeping on the other side of the bed. but you've been spiralling so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear a word i said. calm down, ok?” compared to the rough tug he gave their hair earlier, he gently cups their face in his rough hands, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on their cheeks. “sorry for pulling your hair like that, hon’. but you were really gone; had me worried there!” he gives them a quick cheeky smile and pecks their forehead. “i was worried because i care about you. i like the feeling of being able to protect someone else dear to me besides my own brother. he's older than me so i don't get that feeling very often. but when i met you and you clung to to me when you passed out and came to that one time, i wanted to feel that sensation again. that pride of and happiness of being a person that someone can rely on. i know it was an accident but still... ‘twas nice.”

“....oh....” they suddenly felt so embarrassed and so ashamed, even though deep down they knew they had nothing to be ashamed about. rindou's their boyfriend. he's one of the few people in their life that has stuck around. the man they've secretly daydreamed of marrying. he's seen them naked. seen them in tears. seen them angry. rindou's caught them in every possible vulnerable state they could ever be in and he never let them down. never gave up on them. never walked away. why would he...? why would.... he.... “why would you stay with me? you've seen every side of me since then. like i said, i am sure there are others out there who aren't as fucked up as me. who are far healthier than i am and can accompany you more often to your club at night with your brother and friends. i don't hold you back; you've said that so that's not the issue here. but.... i want to know why, in a sea of people, you would still choose me.” by now they had started sobbing, face buried in his t-shirt, tattooed arms wrapped firmly around their waist, their own hands balled into fists clutching onto him for dear life as if he'd disappear otherwise.

“babe,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, big, warm, calloused hands slowly rubbing their back. “i choose you over any other healthy guy or girl because i've seen your determination and persistance through everything you've gone through. the only people i've seen with that much determination were that hanagaki guy and toman's leader. but they're different from you; you've remained selfless and compassionate to everyone, no matter what. always the open-minded one trying to see someone's perspective or situation from their end. you're one of the last people to judge others. not gonna lie, i thought it was pretty naive at first. figured you'd be — and saw it often — walked all over a lot. but you never let that keep you down for long.”

they huffed. pouting they also grumbled back, “sure seems long....”

he made a sound like a game show buzzer going off because a contestant ran out of time or got the answer wrong. “incorrect answer, my love. it seemed long but it was always only temporary. things always changed for the better. if things in the world never changed for the better then it would've imploded a long time ago. anyway,” he moves his hands from their back to their shoulders and raises them to look him in the eye.

“anyway,” he says again, “babe, you always say that one of your traits is that you're stubborn as hell. well, ever think that your stubborness applies here too? you're so stubborn and determined to not let people's opinions of you cloud your outlook on life. you've seen and experienced so much that you don't wish to see others go through the same hardships as you. so you give back to others as much as you can. that's pretty cool, y’know? you're cool, babe! the coolest! we can be cool together: you, me, and ran — you laughed! that made you laugh!” rin cheered and giddily kissed their tears away. “but!” he abruptly leaned back all of a sudden. “he can only join our cool squad only because i know he'd be offended at never let me live it down that i don't think he's cool enough to join.” he rolls his eyes at the audacity of how far his brother would go with his dramatics. “it's a wonder *aniki's not an actor with how dramatic he can be sometimes.”

taking a few tissues from the box sitting on rin's desk, they dried their eyes, cleaned their face and blew their nose. “i mean, he did say he's always wanted to be a celebrity. so basically he's living the ‘actor’ life anyway, isn't he?”

taking a clean tissue from them he patted their cheeks dry and chuckled, “true. even if it is my club he's still a celebrity by association. anyway, you good now, babe? baby? my love? my angel? my sweet thing? dollfhmph?” he playfully glared at his “dollface” as they clapped a hand over his mouth. “don't like that last one, baby? ‘s’not what you said last night while i was—”

“you finish that sentence and you'll sleep on the couch!” they playfully retorted back. “besides, you never answered my question about why you've been sleeping with your back to me or why you've been sleeping on the other side of the bed lately.”

“you've got enough stuffed animals. i want to be your stuffed plushie that you hold at night and cuddle with.” the instant rindou pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, they knew he was partly messing with them still to cheer them up. “but in all seriousness,” he relaxed his posture and returned to cleaning them up and fixing their hair. “in all seriousness, baby, when i crawl in behind you after i log off from my game i just like the feeling of your back pressed to my chest as i wrap my arms around you. i also love it when you subconsciously hold onto my own arms when i do that. it's cute!” leaning in, he rests his forehead against theirs and watches and feels as they slowly get more and more flustered. “you know what else is cute?”

“wh-what....?” they stutter, barely able to maintain eye contact with him with how intensely his gaze on them was.

“i also adore how flustered you get — even though we've been dating for two years and have been friends for three — whenever i go to kiss you or whenever i undress you. it makes my heart swell every time i see you trying to look away from me. it only makes me want to kiss you more, y’know? and i think that's exactly what i'll do.” tilting his head to the side rindou gives their lips one peck. two. three.

throwing his headphones onto his chair, he stands up and hoists them over his hips as he effortlessly carries them to the bed. between each deep, hungry, breathless kiss he mutters lowly against their lips high praise after high praise while also promising to show them in slow, agonizing detail why he would never leave and always choose them every time.

note. ....did i grab my own face in my own hands to figure out how rin would hold it and where he'd massage on my face with his thumbs.....? .......yes...... no....... hhhh ABSOLUTELY! fine. lol listen. artists aren't the only ones who do "weird" shit lol

also feel free to listen to 13Aurora's “can't catch me now” slowed + reverb cover on while you read this iyw. i had it on loop while i wrote this aaa tho tbh i was looping it all day

aaaaaa seasonal depression has been kicking me in the ass on top of my symptomatic depression (thanks, migraines). so i've been spiralling a lot lately. and when i spiral,, i wrote rindou comfort lol a bit prouder of this compared to my last rindou comfort (that one is still in my drafts tho. ew!). i like the ending more in this one than the last one!! it flows better, i hope, what with all the kissing and loving and suggestive writing~ oooo *squirms in my seat* i adore final timeline rindou so so much — almost as much as bonten arc rindou hahah!! gamer!rindou also has my whole heart and soul too so i had to include that as well as rin's beloved older brother whom i also adore.

(are rin's gaming friends waiting for him to come back and help them defeat the boss with them....? uhh,,,,,,,,, *stares at rin's afk character* yes!)

*ALSO! “aniki” means older bro or big bro or older brother in japanese slang

[corxoran]

I really like the idea of Jazz who is actually really inexperienced in areas that you wouldn't expect. He does get stressed and he does freak out but he extricates himself from a sticky situation so smoothly that you don't realize.

I want more of Jazz being confronted by things that actually frighten and unsettle him... I really like when a chill character that everyone can rely on breaks a little!

It's even better if it's something that most people are cool with or know a lot about, because then he definitely doesn't want to let on that he's lost and nervous.

If it was something crazy he could laugh and be like "Even I can't do that!" But if it's something he sees as simple, something he should be able to fake no problem even if he's never dealt with it before, he'd be singing a different tune. One more along the notes of "Frag, why can't I do this???"

I just think it's funny ^o^