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yeonzzzn · 5 months

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HIIIIII I've been thinking a lot these last few days.... heeseung being an angel (could be a fallen angel or something) falling in love with a mortal, but they can't be together because angels and human beings together are completely prohibited... a totally hot and forbidden love

— 🐇💨

I am so in love with this concept. the minute this popped up in my askbox I knew I had to write it asap. I apologize for this being so long idk what happened my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing.

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fallen angel: lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader word count: 7.6k

Heeseung never sinned. Ever. Never once said anything bad about anyone, never once cursed, never once gossiped, kept his emotions in check, never had a single terrible thought about someone else, never committed any crimes, and always—always—had a pure heart.

That was until you.

Heeseung was God's most prized angel. He did anything and everything that was asked of him. Never once defying God’s wishes or commands. His pure heart is the whole reason that when he well, died, he was the first one selected to be God’s second hand. Heeseung lived his whole life dedicated to his church and doing nothing but good.

But you? Oh, you. You were the first temptation Heeseung ever got.

“I have a job for you, my angel,” God spoke to him.

Heeseung knelt down on one knee with one hand over his chest, bowing his head, “Anything for you, my savior.”

“We have a family that needs a blessing, a pure angel to take away their worries. They are struggling hard. Go down to land and help this family. I trust you with this one, Heeseung. Please.”

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. Nodding and accepting the job God had to offer him.

Heeseung stretched his wings, preparing for his flight down to the mortal lands. The trip didn’t take long and the minute the tips of his shoes touched solid land, his whole outfit changed and his wings were hidden. From the bright white robes and dress shoes to tanned brown boots, light blue jeans, and a black button-up dress shirt. It was one of Heeseung’s favorite outfits to wear when he came to the mortal lands.

He looked around the city he landed in, watching as the mortals passed by him and crossed over the street. The sounds of cars honking and people yelling filled his ears along with the smells of the city. Heeseung smiled, remembering his time as a mortal and seeing how much had changed over the thousand years he’d been away.

Pushing away the memories of the past, Heeseung starts his walk in the direction God told him this family would be. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, smiling brightly as he walked past the mortals, none of them paying him any mind as they went about their normal lives.

“Fuck!”

Heeseung chuckled at the curse, shaking his head. He wasn’t used to hearing such vulgar language. His eyes searched the sea of people around him to see where I came from, his curiosity taking over him.

You were running down the street, hairtye in your mouth as you pulled back your long hair back into a ponytail, quickly pulling the band from your mouth and twisting it in your hair. With how you were rushing, Heeseung knew you were the one he heard the curse come from. You looked down at your watch, letting more curses escape your lips, “I am going to be so fucking late! Holy fucking shit.”

Heeseung raised his brows at the language, “Jeez…mortals never change.” He wasn’t judging, he understood life as a mortal wasn’t the easiest and everyone had their roles to play. It wasn’t his job to judge anyway, he left that up to God.

But you kept pushing along, pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing a number, “Pick up, please for the love of fucking God pick up!”

You were so focused on getting to your destination that you didn’t even realize you ran into Heeseung, smacking your shoulder into his. Heeseung didn’t move an inch at your touch, but you nearly fell to your knees. Heeseung stopped to face you, making sure you were okay but seeing you catch your balance before tumbling over, looking back over your shoulder and snarling at him, “Asshole…” you mumbled under your breath as you still pushed along down the street.

Heeseung blankly stared at you then shoved his hands back in his pockets and continued to his destination, saying a small prayer for you.

It didn’t take much longer for Heeseung to reach the small house right outside the city. He took a deep breath and smiled wide, knocking on the door.

A man opened the door, his eyes puffy and red from crying and now full of confusion looking at Heeseung, “Can I help you?”

Heeseung smiled even more, “I am here to help you.”

The man gave him an even more confused look, “Excuse me?”

A small cough could be heard within the house and soft sobs followed after it.

Heeseung peeked into the house, “Your child, they’re sick,” the man looked down to the ground, putting his lips into a thin line, “I can help. I was sent here to do so.”

The man flicked his eyes back up at Heeseung, studying him, “Are you the angel we asked God to send?”

Heeseung gently nodded.

He was led into the home and to their child’s bedroom. The mother was hovering over her child, who looked to be about eight. His eyes were tightly closed and his breathing was uneven. He was going to die soon, Heeseung could sense it, could see it. The poor boy still had so much life left to live, and that’s why God sent Heeseung here. To heal this child.

Heeseung placed a gentle hand on the mother, her pleading eyes staring up at him. Once she realized who he was, she reached for his hand, “Dear angel, save my baby boy.”

Heeseung held her hand tight and nodded. With his free hand, he placed it against the boy's chest, sending a small ounce of healing power to him, reciting a prayer. The boy's mother and father joined him in the prayer, their cries slowly fading out as the heartbeat and breathing of their child became steady.

The family thanked Heeseung more times than he could count. His face hurt from the amount of smiling he did during those hours he sat in their home. They even cooked him dinner as a thanks. Once Heeseung walked out of the home, he understood why God chose this family. The boy had much life to give, and his parents were good and pure souls.

Heeseung walked back into the city, hands behind his back as he stared at the nightlife. Loving all the lights that lit up the city perfectly. The hustling life of mortals laughing with friends and family as they head out for dinner or to even party.

Hopefully, God won’t mind that I take a small walk before heading back.

Heeseung walked as far as he could, finally deciding it was time to head back to the golden gates.

That was until he saw you.

Heeseung stood at a crosswalk, cars flying by and the wind blowing his silver hair and clothes in all directions. You popped up to his right, your phone once again was in your hands, thumbs pressing away at the screen.

Time seemed to slow down then. The red hand that illuminated the crosswalk to not cross flashed its light. The cars fast-paced slowed. Heeseung turned his head to look at you, watching as you continued to step from the sidewalk and into the street, not paying any attention.

His heart raced faster, eyes widening as he looked to his left, seeing a car passing into the next lane without using a blinker and showing no signs of slowing down or even honking their horn at you to show they were there.

Heeseung acted fast, stepping down from the curb, hands reaching out to grab your shoulders and pull you back against him. Heeseung released his wings, wrapping them around you and twirling you around and back to the sidewalk.

Time went back to normal, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. How stupid could you be to walk out into the street in the middle of rush hour while on your phone? You could have died. That’s when you noticed the white wings wrapped over you along with the strong arms that held you tightly.

You looked up, resting your head against his chest, seeing it was the man you ran into earlier, seeing him staring back down at you. His chest raised and fell quickly, his warm breath touching your face. He’s an angel. An actual, real-life angel. Ones you’ve only been told about from stories as a child.

Heeseung pulled his wings back behind him and hid them from the human eye once again. Seeing the other mortals around didn’t take any notice. He continued to stare into your eyes, “You silly little thing.”

The longer the two of you looked at each other, the more your heart wanted to rip from your chest. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. You felt safe in his arms and without knowing you leaned more against him, Heeseung, as if on instinct, held you tighter against him.

“Thank you,” you finally managed to say, your cold hands touching his where they sat against your forearms, “For saving me.”

Feeling your cold touch brought Heeseung back to reality. He smiled and released his arms from you, “Try and pay better attention next time, okay?”

You turned to fully face him. Every fiber of your being wanted to cling to him. Your heart is calling for him.

Heeseung kept his smile, giving you a small nod, and prepared to turn away.

“Wait!” you quickly shouted, your hands now grasping at the back of his shirt. Heeseung looked over his shoulder at you, “Let me make it up to you, for saving me. And to apologize for calling you an asshole earlier.”

Heeseung chuckled, “Being nice to an angel won��t get you into heaven, silly mortal.”

You bit at the skin on your lip, “I really just want to thank you.”

Heeseung looked up to the sky and then shrugged. God can wait for a bit longer.

He followed close behind you until you stood in front of your apartment door and with shaky hands you unlocked the door and went inside, Heeseung trialing in.

He held his hands behind his back, looking over every inch of your studio apartment.

“I’m sorry it’s so small…” you whispered, closing the door behind you.

Heeseung turned to face you, his smile still on his face, “It’s not my place to judge what you do or do not have. Your space is perfect if you make it perfect.”

Right. You forgot he’s an angel. You kicked out of your shoes, reaching your hands up to unzip your jacket, noticing how quickly he turned around to look away from you.

You drop your hands to your sides, “Want anything to eat or drink?” you ask quickly walking to your kitchen, “I am not sure what angels eat?”

Heeseung chuckled, slowly turning to face you, “You don’t seem to be questioning what I am.”

You gave him a small smile as you pulled two water bottles from your fridge, “I always believed. Believed we humans had someone looking after us, whether that was a God or angels or anything else.”

Heeseung tilted his head, “What if I was anything else? You let me into your home so willingly.”

You swallowed, not even taking into conversation that the man in front of you could be the other type of angel. One that was meant to draw you in and kill you, “Are you going to hurt me?”

Heeseung took a few steps towards you, “I would never.”

You slowly nodded at him and handed him his water bottle, “I am YN, by the way.”

Heeseung gently took the water from you, his fingers brushing over yours, “Heeseung. Second hand to God.”

You widen your eyes, you weren’t just dealing with an angel, but you were dealing with God’s TOP angel.

Heeseung stared at you, “Something wrong, YN?”

You shook your head, “You’re just…beautiful.” you didn’t know where that came from or why you even spoke those words from your mouth.

His heart picked up its pace, and his ears started to burn red. He took steps away from you and finally took sips of his water.

Heeseung thought you were beautiful too, a little silly mortal, but beautiful nevertheless. His heart was pulling to you and he needed to leave soon and quickly.

He cleared his throat, “You wanted to thank me, but that’s not necessary. I was simply doing my job.”

You set your water down on the table, “You saved my life, I need to thank you somehow.”

Heeseung looked at your water bottle, watching how the droplet fell down the plastic and touched the wood of the table. He sat his bottle down beside yours, “Tell me your thanks then, I must return soon.”

You didn’t know what came over you or what you were even thinking. All you knew was you were now standing before Heeseung, looking up into his brown eyes.

Heeseung stared back down into your eyes, loving the way their color shined under the light of your kitchen. You stood on your tiptoes, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“YN,” he whispered, his hands now on your biceps, pulling your feet back flat to the floor, “I can’t accept that.”

“Just one,” you whisper back, once again standing on your tiptoes, becoming inches away from his face.

Heeseung’s lips parted, frozen in place as he watched you move closer. You brushed your nose against him, slowly closing your eyes as your lips touched together.

Heeseung kept still as you held your lips to his, his heart threatening to rip from his chest. But once you pulled away, he was pulling you back.

His hands moved from your biceps to your face, keeping you in place as he kissed you back. Lips moved together as if he’d never kissed someone before.

Heeseung had his fair share of kisses when he was mortal, but none of them felt like yours do. Tasting so sweet and addicting. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion he was giving you, roaming your hands from his shoulders to his neck, fingers tangling in the silver strands of his hair.

You don’t know if it was you or Heeseung who deepened the kiss, all concepts of time and the world around you were out the window at his touch. At the way his hands slid from your face to your hips. At how your body was pressed so close to his and how you were now pressed against the wall of your apartment.

It was just kissing. You two were just making out and nothing else. But you wanted more, so much more. Heeseung too, wanted more of you. He couldn’t get enough. He rocked his hips against yours, his growing hard cock rubbing you just in the right way that your lips released from his to softly moan.

Heeseung was off you within seconds of hearing that lewd, sweet sound come from your mouth.

He pressed his back against the door, palming the door in hopes of getting his hands to stop shaking as he pants to catch his breath.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I’m sorry.”

Heeseung glances up at you, his pupils blown out and filled with the want he has for you. You wanted to run to him, pull him back into you. But the moment his wings, his oh-so-beautiful wings, appeared from behind him, you knew your time with him was over.

“We can’t see each other again,” Heeseung quickly says, turning and reaching for the door handle.

“Why?!” you quickly asked, pushing yourself off the wall, “I want to see you again.”

Heeseung flung the door open and rushed to the railing, “I can’t sin. You’re too tempting.” You stood in the doorway, watching as he climbed the railing, stretching his wings out. He glanced behind him, taking one last long look at you, feeling his heartbreaking, “Goodbye, silly mortal.”

And then he was gone. He shot into the sky so far and fast you didn’t have time to blink, “Goodbye, Heeseung.”

—

Heeseung kneeled at the altar, bringing his hands together, and doing his daily prayers and offerings. Pushing every thought of you out of his mind.

It’s been days since he left you. Days since he felt the warmth of your body against his. How your lips tasted and moved against his own. How you made his body feel. The things he wanted to do to you…the thoughts that ran through his head about you.

Heeseung squeezed his eyes, doing everything he could to shove the thought of you down and away. To forget about you and what had happened. He couldn’t have you no matter what. Angels and mortals can’t be together anyway. It was forbidden. Angels' jobs are to protect, provide guidance, to watch over, and ensure the safety of the mortals. To not intervene and only to do so when it’s necessary. Everything about you was against the rules. He couldn’t have relationships with you.

Heeseung stood from the altar, turning to see his brothers standing behind him, “My apologies,” he said to the six of them, “I took a bit longer this morning. Please take your turn.”

He stepped aside, watching as the youngest and newest angel in their ranks took to the alter first.

“What took you so long to return the other night, brother?” Niki, the youngest, asked as he placed his hands together and knelt, “We missed you at dinner.”

Heeseung placed his hands behind his back, “I was sent on a job. The family I helped offered me food as a thanks.”

Sunoo and Sunghoon knelt down beside Niki, copying the prayers.

Jay and Jake kept their eyes on Heeseung, their eyes telling Heeseung everything he needed to know: that they knew where he was that night.

Jungwon gave Heeseung a dimpled smile as he knelt beside the others, “It was very nice of them to return their thanks in dinner for you. Make sure to keep contact with them. It would be the right thing to do.”

Heeseung nodded at the younger, “Of course. Already plan to.”

He looked back at Jay and Jake, giving them a small nod and walking past them.

“We know,” was all Jay said in a whisper only he, Jake, and Heeseung could hear.

Heeseung stopped a few steps behind them, keeping his hands behind his back and head held high, “I know.”

“Only Jay and I,” Jake added, his Aussie accent coming out in a hushed tone, “You know the rules.”

“I know,” Heeseung said again, “I saved her life and she thanked me the way she felt fit.”

“That’s not what we are worried about though,” Jay sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the younger ones in front of him, folding his wings tightly to his back.

Heeseung knew the two of them were being nosey. That they peeked down onto the mortal lands and saw everything that happened.

“Will you tell on me?” Heeseung asked, keeping himself held high.

Jake chuckled, “Of course not,” he finally turned to look at Heeseung, staring at the back of his head, “You just have to promise to never see her again.”

Heeseung closed his eyes, “I know the rules. I appreciate you two looking after me, but I am the eldest angel, the most trusted, and I wouldn’t break that trust. Not to God, or you six.”

“We want you to promise,” Jay mumbled, “Say you promise.”

“I promise.”

Jay and Jake nodded, joining their brothers at the alter, leaving Heeseung standing alone. He walked out of the chapel and into the garden. He hated having to make that promise, but knowing it was necessary to make. Not just for his brother's peace of mind, but also his own.

The day went on like normal with his normal scheduled things. It was enough to distract him away from the conversation that morning with Jay and Jake. Enough to keep his mind off and away from you.

That was until night fell and he returned to his room with his back pressed to his shower wall, head leaned over, and letting the water slip down his head and face.

Heeseung reached his fingers up to his lips, rubbing the pads over them, remembering the way your lips felt pressed against him. He ran his hands from the back of his neck to his shoulders, touching every inch of his upper half that your hands touched.

Heeseung started to pant, his heart beating faster at the memories of you pressed against him. The moan that left your vulgar mouth. The pulsing pressure Heessung felt on his lower half was making him shake. He wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking up and back down. Biting his lips to keep any noise from coming out.

This wasn’t like Heeseung. This wasn’t his normal behavior. And if he got found out…it would be over for him. It would have been over for him a long time ago if he was caught with you that night. Or if he continued any further. The moment Heeseung would have touched you inappropriately, or slid himself inside you…

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thumb circling the tip. His eyes were glued to how red and angry it looked, how badly he wanted to feel your hand in place of his.

He quickly let go of himself, turning the warm water from hot to cold, his body shivering from the new temperature and removing his thoughts about you.

Even after his shower and now lying in bed, his thoughts trailed to you and the small time he spent with you. His heart ached, begging to hear your voice one more time. He forced himself to sleep. Forced himself to wake up that next morning and go about his normal schedule. To go back to bed and repeat over and over.

Heeseung broke the minute he landed back in the city, sneaking out of heaven for the night and landing himself at your front door. His shaky hands banging on your door.

You jolted awake, angrily stomping your way to the front door, “What the fuck do you want it’s almost two in the morning!” you snapped pulling the door open to see Heeseung standing before you, his wings quickly pulled tightly to his back as he pushed himself inside, his hands immediately cupping your face and lips attaching to yours.

“Hee—Heeseung,” you said his name in between kisses, eventually pressing your hands to his chest and pushing him. Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with so much worry, “What are you doing here?” You asked.

Heeseung slid his hands from your face to your arms, thumbs rubbing at your skin, “Do you want me to go?”

“No!” you said a bit too hastily, fingers gripping at the fabric of his dark blue shirt, “I’ve missed you so much please don’t go.”

It was true, you missed him more than you wanted to admit and the weeks you spent away from him were torture. You barely knew him, knew next to nothing about him actually. But something about him pulled you in. The moment you felt his arms and wings wrap around you, your heart was his for the taking.

You did enough research after he left about why he couldn’t stay with you. Why he couldn’t be doing this with you. He’s breaking enough rules as it is to be here with you right now.

Heeseung kissed you again, letting his wings drop to the floor, “I’ve missed you so much,” he said between each kiss, “You’re so darn tempting.”

You giggled at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I thought you couldn’t sin,” you teased him.

Heeseung left your lips to kiss down your neck, “Kissing isn’t a sin. As long as I don’t touch you or have sex with you…” he brushed his lips back up to your jaw, “Just don’t tempt me to do anything but kiss you.”

You did as the angel told you. Doing nothing but letting him kiss you and keeping your hands to yourself even if it was killing you to not touch him. Heeseung kept his hands on your face, thumbs gently rubbing back and forth across your jawline, slowly walking you to your bed and laying you down. Heeseung climbed in over you, gently laying his body down on top of yours, wanting to be as close as legally possible for him to be.

He didn’t move, no matter how hard he got. He didn’t touch you anywhere but your arms and face, even if his hands were screaming to touch every inch of you. All he did was keep his lips connected to yours, kissing you so gently and softly until both of yours and his lips were swollen.

You fell asleep in his arms but awoke to an empty apartment but a handwritten letter was on your kitchen table, Heeseung telling you he would be back when he could.

And Heeseung kept true to his word. He always came back to you. He always held you close in his arms and kissed you gently. Heeseung fell hard in love with you. No amount of time spent with you was ever enough, not when he had to go back to Heaven before anyone noticed he was gone. Do his normal duties and schedule, wait a couple of days, then crash land back at your door.

Each time was harder than the last. You became his every thought and wish. And Heeseung was slowly starting to lose himself when it came to you. His immortal life started to become more mortal again being with you. Mostly with how much your existence was starting to tempt him more and more.

Heeseung was slowly starting to break the rules even more than he already was. Brushing his hands over your breasts slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair, rubbing his cock against your heat, and shoving his tongue down your throat. He would undress you, undress himself, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties and him in his boxers, trying so hard to keep his eyes on your face and not trace every inch of your almost bare body.

You were the devil that sat on his shoulder, breaking him away from who he really was. Never once in his life, before he died and after, was he ever faced with temptation like this.

You made it so hard for him to behave. Not when he’d hear your sweet moans fill his ears as you buck your hips against his to feel his length and run your hands down every inch of his body.

Heeseung nearly lost his mind when your hand wrapped around him for the first time, feeling how your fingers pumped him so slowly and oh so so good.

“Angels don’t act like this, darling,” Heeseung whispered in your ear as your hand squeezed him, “You’re such a devil to me.”

You kissed his neck, stroking his cock a bit faster, “I’m just a devil in disguise,” you teased him, knowing full well Heeseung was loving this banter.

“I love you,” he kissed your ear, rocking himself in your hand, “I love you so much.”

Heeseung had you stop before things got too out of control. Redressing himself and you before giving you a final kiss goodnight and leaving.

You always hated to watch him go. To watch as your angel flew away into the night and having to count down the days until you could see him again.

—

Heeseung stood before the altar, his six brothers surrounding behind him along with the other angels of heaven. He kept his hands pressed behind his back, “You called for me, my savior?”

God hummed, “We have a lot to discuss, my angel.”

Heeseung glanced around at his brothers, taking note of their facial expressions. Then looked at the other angels, they wore the same looks, just not as hurt as his brothers.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this was about. Heeseung knew. His luck ran out.

“What would you like to discuss?” Heeseung asked, giving a smile.

“About your wrongdoings.”

Heeseung’s smile faded, dropping his kind and happy act. He had to admit, he no longer was happy being here in heaven. Not when his heart was on mortal lands. Heaven was back on Earth. Not in these clouds. Not anymore.

“Are you wanting me to confess my sins, my lord?” Heeseung kept his head lifted, straightening up his posture.

“Yes,” God said with a sigh, “And why you betrayed me.”

Heeseung pulled his wings tighter to his back, squeezing his hands together, “I am in love with her.”

His six brothers closed their eyes tightly, tilting their heads down towards the white morale floor, hands in fists. The other angels gasped at the confession.

“State the rest of your sins, Lee Heeseung.”

Heeseung lifted his head up higher, “I’ve touched her. Let her touch me. Slept beside her and held her in my arms. Rubbed my body against hers until she was moaning.”

The gasps of the other angels grew louder, their chattering voices echoing across the chapel.

“But you never slept with her, have you?”

Heeseung smirked, “No, I haven’t had sex with her. But I want to.”

More gasps filled the chapel. Jay now appearing at Heeseung’s side, his hand gripping his shoulder, “Stop talking man!”

Heeseung shook his brother off him, “Go and stand back where you were, Jay.”

“Jongseong,” God said quickly, “Please.”

Jay slowly walked back, standing close to Jake.

“What has she done to you? My angel? Why did you fall into her temptation when she’s a devil.”

Heeseung tensed his face and body. Wings pulled even tighter against him to keep them from shaking out of pure anger, “She’s a human being. Nothing even close to those damned demons.”

More gasps from the other angels.

“You will watch your mouth when speaking to me.”

Heeseung chuckled, looking down to the floor, “My apologies.”

Heeseung thinned his lips in a line. He was filled with so much conflict. This place wasn’t his home, not when you were down below waiting for him. Heeseung loved his time here, loved helping mortals who needed him, and loved his six brothers and even the jobs and duties he had here. Spending time with you did change him, making him want more out of his immortal life than to just exist. He wanted to live. He wanted to love. He wanted life with you.

Heeseung held his head high again, relaxing his body, “I confess to all my sins. My thoughts I’ve had of her, the things I want to do to and with her and I confess to betraying you and your trust, my savior.”

God sighed, silence filling the room. Heeseung knew what was next. His punishment.

“Jay, Jake, Sungoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki,” God called for them, “Stand by Heeseung.”

Heeseung watched his six brothers stand closer to him, seeing the looks on their faces as God spoke to them one one-on-one in their minds, telling them exactly what they needed to do.

Niki and Jungwon held his legs down, while Sunghoon and Sunoo stretched his arms out and held a death grip on them.

Heeseung’s body shook, pure fear covering his face when he felt Jay’s and Jake’s hands touch his wings, “No,” Heeseung whispered, fighting as much as he could to pull his wings back, “Not my wings.”

Jay gritted his teeth as he forced Heeseung’s left wing out, stretching it out to its full span. Jake did the same, biting down hard on his lip and breaking the skin.

“This is your punishment, Lee Heeseung,” God said with a stern voice, “You lose your place here. And I’m taking back your wings I granted you.”

Heeseung pushed and pulled at his brothers, doing anything he could to get them off him but their grips held hard.

“Heeseung, please,” Sunghoon begged as he gripped his wrist harder, “Stop.”

“Hyung please,” Sunoo begged.

But Heeseung kept fighting to break free.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone stood still as the room shook with God’s shout. Sweat rolled down Heessung’s face, his eyes piercing through everyone surrounding him.

“Take his wings. Now.”

Heeseung smirked, “To hell with all this,” he whispered.

Jay and Jake looked at each other, their tears swelling up in their eyes as God whispered in their minds to take Heeseung’s wings. To rip them from his body.

They pulled and Heeseung shouted. His voice echoed off the walls as Jay and Jake pulled with their full strength. Sunghoon and Sunoo kept their grips on his wrists tight and same with Jungwon and Niki at his legs, holding on for dear life.

It was killing Jay to have to do this, to watch his own hands pull his older brother's wing right out of his body. He could only imagine the pain Heeseung was feeling. And Jake? He was in tears. He could feel inch by inch of Heeseung’s right wing stripping from his back. He could already see the blood spilling onto his white robes and onto the floor. Seeing Heeseung fling his head back and forth in a rage as his voice bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the whole chapel. The pained faces his other six brothers had at having to witness this.

Jake wished he could turn back time, wished he could have stopped Heeseung from sneaking out. Stopped the angel who caught Heeseung dropping down to the mortal lands and kept him from getting nosey and running his mouth to God. But it was all too late. Heeseung would get his wings stripped from him and pushed down to the Earth to fall. All Jake could do now was pray he survived long enough to make it to you.

Heeseung clenched his jaw as the last bit of his wings was stripped from his body, his back spilling blood and muscles aching from the loss of where his wings once were. His beautiful white feathered wings lost all their life and slumped in Jay’s and Jake’s hands, blood dripping down them.

His brothers stepped away from him, watching as Heeseung fell to the floor, too dizzy from the blood loss.

“You will now fall,” God sighed, “You will be stripped of your immortality and fall to Earth. You will crawl to your lover and show her where her sins got you.”

Heeseung weakly smirked, eyes closing, “Gladly.”

Heeseung didn’t know who picked him up by his arms and dragged him out of the chapel, he just knew it wasn’t any of his brothers. The grip the other two angles had on him was proof enough that it wasn’t any of the ones he loved.

The six of them stood in the chapel still, eyes locked on Heeseung's wingless back, watching the blood pool from the wounds and stain his white robes and the marble floor.

They watched helplessly as Heeseung was pushed off the edge.

—

You heard a faint knocking on your door. At first, you thought you might have gone crazy and heard things. But once the knocking kept happening and then you heard something fall, you quickly rushed to the door, opening it to find Heeseung still in his white-stained robes. His back was pressed against the railing and his skin was pale.

“Heeseung, oh my god!” you dropped down to his side, cupping your hands to his face, “What happened?!”

Heeseung was barely able to hold his eyes open, “My wings…they stripped my wings from me.”

You bit at the skin on your cheek, quickly standing back to your feet and pulling him up with all the strength you had, pulling his arm over your shoulders and gripping your arm around his waist, pulling him inside your apartment.

Heeseung barely made it a couple of steps in before falling to his knees, you losing your grip on him and your eyes finally landing on the holes in his robes and the blood that still continued to push out.

“Heeseung,” you fell back to his side, “You need to get to a hospital.”

“And tell them what?” he breathed out, fingers gripping the carpet as he pants, “That I am a fallen angel who got their wings forcefully torn from his body?”

Heeseung wasn’t trying to be snappy or rude, truly. The pain was just so immense he couldn’t control anything.

You sat back on your heels, watching the love of your life suffer. This was your fault. It was all your fault. You’re the one who asked him to come home with you that fateful day. You’re the one who kissed him. Who tempted him. You pulled him in and touched him. You did this to him.

Heeseung could practically hear your brain turning over and over. He pushed himself to his side, reaching his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, “This is not your fault, you hear me? Not even close.”

The tears swelled in your eyes now, falling into his touch as he cupped his hand to your cheek, “Heeseung…”

“Baby,” he whispered, “I need you to do as I say, okay? My immortality hasn’t been taken from me yet, I will heal a bit fast but I need my wounds covered and taken care of, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, placing a kiss on his palm. Heeseung told you exactly what you needed to do. Starting with tearing his robes off his body and ripping it into a big enough strand to be wrapped around him. Then using any medical alcohol you had in the apartment and pour it onto his wounds and hold a towel to them. It killed you having to press the towels to his wounds, feeling the massive hole where his beautiful wings once were…the pain Heeseung must be feeling…

But you took care of him. Doctoring his wounds to the best of your ability and doing as he instructed you. You wrapped the pieces of what was left of his robe around his chest and back, tying it as tightly as you could.

You helped him to your bed, steadying him up as he sat down. Heeseung wasn’t as pale as earlier, but you could still see the pained expression.

“Hey,” He whispered, cupping your face, “Stop thinking whatever it is.”

You looked away from him, “I caused this. I tempted you.”

Heeseung shook his head, “Baby, look at me,” you looked up at him, “I did this of my own free will,” he slid his hands from your face and down to your waist, “I knew the consequences, and did it anyway,” he squeezed your waist, “I love you. I gave up heaven for you.”

You wanted to fight him, to yell in his face about giving up eternity for you. But you also couldn’t help but feel so loved at this moment. That this angel found love with you and was willing to give up everything for you.

Heeseung kissed you, pulling you between his legs, and deepening the kiss.

“Heeseung,” you said, pulling away from him, “You’re injured, you need to rest.”

“No,” he shook his head, pulling you down into the bed and towering over you, “I’ve waited,” he said, his eyes growing lustful and his fingers tearing into your shirt and ripping it in half, pulling it off your body, “so damn long,” sliding his hands down to your shorts, looping his fingers in and pulling them down, taking your panties down with, “to have you like this.”

Heeseung kicked your legs apart with his knees, leaning up straight to unbutton and unzip his black slacks, wiggling them off his body, leaving him in his boxers. You pulled yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth to protest that this could wait. But Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. He connected his lips back to yours, his hands cupping your breasts and loving the way you moaned into his mouth.

“Oh hell baby,” he said between kisses, “I love how these feel between my fingers.”

You kept your lips attached to his as if your life depended on it, bucking your hips up onto his.

Heeseung trailed his lips down to your neck, squeezing your breasts then sliding them behind to unhook your bra, sending the fabric off somewhere in the apartment.

Heeseung lifted himself back up, tearing down at your bare body. So perfect. So beautiful. So his.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, connecting his forehead to yours, tracing his fingertips down your body and stopping at your cunt, slowly pushing his fingers in, “So wet,” he groaned, rubbing his hard cock against your thigh, “Hmm I can’t wait to feel your cunt wrapped around me.”

You giggled at him, “Angels don’t say such dirty things,” you teased.

“Yeah?” he smirked, plunging his fingers in and out faster, “Angels don’t finger this good, do they?”

You squirm underneath him, rolling your hips in sync with his fingers. Pushing your head back into your pillows and aches your back.

You gasped out at the loss of his fingers, watching as he pulled the remainder of his clothing off him. His hard cock was red and angry. Precum dripping from his tip.

Heeseung gripped both your thighs, pushing them to your chest, “Angels don’t do what I am fixing to do to you,” he smirked, lining his cock up to your entrance. With a deep breath, he pushed himself inside you. Heeseung’s moans fill the apartment along with your own.

His grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into the skin. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward. Picking up his pace and pounding into you like a madman. His pupils were blown out and his breaths were unsteady. This. This was what he gave up heaven for. To feel your cunt wrapped around his cock. This was the real heaven.

“See, darling,” he groans, throwing his head back, “Angels don’t fuc-fuck this good,” he looked back down at you, loving your fucked out expression and how your hands gripped your bedsheets. Mouth slack as sweet moans spill from your lips. It turned you on so bad hearing Heeseung talk this way. To feel him so balls deep in your pussy, “Thank god I am not an angel, huh?”

Heeseung was the definition of looks like an angel but fucks like a demon. With the way he pistoned into you, the grip on your thighs, the dirty words leaving his mouth that you’ve never heard him say before tonight…Heeseung was never meant to stay an angel.

You continued to moan out with each of his hard thrusts, your core growing tight and threatening to snap at any moment, “Fuck you feel so good,” he breathes, “Moan my name baby,” he snaked his fingers to your clit, rubbing it aggressively, “Cum around my cock, I know you want to.”

You bit your lip, arching your back more at his touch, jaw going slack as you chanted his name. Chanting his name as if he were god and you were his follower. Your core snapping, your orgasm releasing around him and onto your bedsheets, “Fuck yes, baby,” he smiles, pumping himself even faster inside you, “Can’t believe I’ve waited this long to fuck you. Should have done it the night we met. Should have fucked this cunt, should have ruined you. Claimed you as mine from the beginning. Oh fuck—“

Heeseung’s body shuddered, cock twitching, “I’m fixing to cum baby,” he bit his lip, looking down and watching how his cock slides in and out, in and out, “Oh dear god, I’m cumming. Oh fuck I’m cumming.”

He kept his eyes locked on your pussy as he came, watching how his seed leaked from your hole as he continued to pump inside of you, milking his cock between your walls.

Heeseung fell on top of your body, his head resting on your chest as he steadied himself and caught his breath, wrapping his arms underneath you.

Heeseung spent his whole life being good and doing good. Never once being selfish or doing any selfish acts. Until you. You pulled this high-ranking angel down to his knees. Making him for once, want to be selfish. To do something for himself. To live freely and be free. To love and fuck you with every ounce of his being.

He was so in love with you and you were so worth getting his wings taken away from him. It's so worth his immortality being stripped.

Heeseung looked up at you, “Want to know a secret?” You tilted your head at him, waiting for him to continue, “I knew it would happen eventually. I wasn’t truly happy up there. My brothers and God knew it too. It was a matter of time before I fucked up and got caught,” he leaned himself up on his elbows, “I wanted it to happen. Because I wanted to be with you so bad. I knew they’d strip my wings. Take my immortality. Yeah, I enjoyed my wings and being immortal, but I wanted you so much more than that.”

You cupped his face, “My fallen angel,”

He placed a kiss on your lips, “I love you, YN.” Heeseung wrapped your legs around his waist, slowly moving again, “And I so love fucking this pussy.”

You giggled, bracing your hands onto his biceps, “I love you too, even if you gave everything up for me.”

Heeseung rested his forehead on yours, slowly fucking into you, “And I’d do it over and over again, all for you.”

—perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee

#yeonzzzn asks #— 🐇💨 anon #heeseunggie #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #reader x heeseung #heeseung smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing

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rrickgrrimes8 · 1 year

Text

Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :)

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad.

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated.

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion?

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home.

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.”

@meli-blacky @zaweashtonslover @3zae-zae3 @bbciwp @cloudroomblog @white-wolf-buckaroo @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @myboyfriendisbigfoot @mell-bell @hummusxx @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @dilfsaremyfavourite @specialagentmonkey @slutforstark @lizlil @unsaiduglywords @ellaprime7 @aphrcdites @zynbsblog @imonmykneessir @mandowhatnow @tomorrowseverything @livelovemusic0996 @icarusthefoolish @b-bloop @leemirna @hexaecana @littleshadow17 @sgt-morgan @adorreeabbie @abbiesxox @leviackrmnss @eternallyvenus @hai-kbai @daydreamerblues @abbyrxx12-blog @montenegroisr @chxosunbound @shqwqrma @littlemissporter @wonwoosthetic @riri53 @softsakusas @prettysbliss @katiemars @kik51199 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ellele19 @newavenger @19891213 @dgraysonss

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x daughter!reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller x niece!reader #ellie williams x platonic!reader #the last of us imagine #joel miller x platonic!reader

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beansprean · 5 months

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Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

Some of my fav Vampire Guillermo outfits from my ongoing paper doll insanity! May or may not be canon for My Familiar's Ghost ;). 30+ more of these over on Patreon lol

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of vampire Guillermo posing with his right hand in a peace sign and his left hand holding up his phone in selfie mode. He is wearing round glasses with gold frames and has his lips pursed as he looks at his phone screen. He is wearing brown dress shoes with a gold flame pattern, brown chinos, and a dark red ribbed sweater vest over a blue and pink floral button down. His collar is popped and he has on several gold rings, a gold hoop in his left ear, and a gold dangle on his right.

2. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing brown dress shoes with a lighter toe cap, dark blueish gray wool pants with a checker pattern, a lighter gray sweater vest over a pink button down with white stripes, and a black four tailed peacoat with a red rose pattern and lighter red lapels and liner. He has on several gold rings and gold studs with a curved loop back.

3. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing brown dress shoes with a lighter heart shaped toe cap, red chinos, and a sheer black button up with a red heart pattern over a black tank top. He has a single silver ring with a heart shape on his left ring finger and teardrop red jewels dangling from his ears.

4. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing rosy brown dress shoes with lighter wing tips, light pink cuords held up by suspenders, and a light pink and peach floral button up under an open knee length rosy brown cardigan with vertical stripes. There is a gold stud in his left ear and a dangling peach feather in his right.

5. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing leopard print loafers with no socks, black highwater pants, a black sweater with a knit chest pattern over a white button down, and an open front beige poncho with a diamond pattern along the trim. His shirt is untucked beneath the sweater, and he has on a pearl necklace along with several gold chains and matching pearl earrings.

6. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing brown wingtip shoes, black pinstripe high waisted pants, and a pale pink silk button up unbuttoned to his sternum under a knee length rosy brown fur coat. He has a white gold chain with a fang around his neck as well as matching rings topped with fangs on his middle two fingers and small hoops in his ears.

7. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing chocolate brown loafers, equally rich brown trousers, and a lace patterned sage green button up under a dark red cardigan with a diamond pattern. He has a knee length dark blue peacoat with a pink and green flower pattern on the lining and lapels as well as red teardrop earrings and a large blue stone on his left middle finger.

8. Repeat. Guilermo is wearing black dress shoes, black pants with a lighter bluish plaid pattern, and a black sweater over a white shirt with a red heart in the knit pattern over the breast. Fishnet pokes out from beneath the sleeves and he has on several silver rings, as well as a thin vertebrae necklace and ear studs with a silver triangle dangling from the left.

9. Repeat. Guillermo is wearing periwinkle loafers, dark purple-black pinstripe pants, and a translucent lace button down decorated with silver stars under a waistcoat colored like the night sky, with a purple nebula at the bottom and black with stars at the top. He has thin chain earrings and several silver rings shaped like stars and moons. /end ID

#wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #vampire guillermo #fashion #paper doll #my familiars ghost #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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yummymitzy · 2 months

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Would you have the heart?

Summary: Reader is a villain and just finished up the last of her mission. As she was cleaning up her mess, she hears something nearby. But she doesn’t expect it to be a gorgeous redhead to be the origin of the sound.

Warnings- Slight violence with knife (Not much!!), G!P Reader, i think thats it? 18+ MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 1915

————♡————

Here you were, disposing of another body in a very trashy dumpster down to very end of the alleyway. Honestly if it were under different circumstances, you would have killed this man in the river, but he just wouldn’t shut up.

Finally closing the lid of the dumpster, you shrug off your leather jacket, it was practically drenched in blood. But you pause, hearing a noise in the distance ahead of you, like a squeaking of a shoe? It was clear that the individual was trying to stay quiet.

Grabbing your knife you hold it up, ready to pounce but still lowered down incase it wasn’t a threat. Keeping your back to one of the walls of the alleyway, you peer around the corner, seeing a bright red flash.

In a flash, you grab their collar and take them into the dark alley. Shoving them against the wall where only little moonlight shone. Soon making you realize that the person you shoved had been a woman, a gorgeous one with straight bright red hair and beaming green eyes.

What the fuck? Why are you acting like that? Weird. You tighten your grip on her shoulders and neck, waiting for her to speak.

“I saw what you did to that man.”

“Don’t know what you want me to do about it, make you unsee it? He deserved it.”

“He could have had a family.”

“He was planning to kill them anyways, might as well save them from the betrayal.”

You loosen your grip upon her, now realizing that she cant do much as save him if the man is already dead. But your hands still hover along her shoulders and neck.

She seems to be analyzing you, you noticed her eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper as she hears your quick answers. You couldn’t help it, it was all true, the man has been going for your head for years, but turned his attention to his family once you gone off the radar.

“Don’t think I’ll let you go, Red. I just so happen to know that you’re going to snitch to whoever you work for, make a new enemy of me.”

“How’d you know that.” Her gaze seems to falter just for a split second, enough for you to catch. Before her facade is brung back up, higher than before.

“You know there is always two different types of heros.” You trail the hand on her neck to trace her jaw as you spoke. “Ones that always make it on the cover of the magazine, praised for all their glory as they defeat the “biggest” of all enemies.”

Unbeknownst to her, you bring your other hand away from her shoulder to bring the tip of the knife to point at her neck. “Or the hero’s that stay under the radar, staying out of the public eye. Not letting anybody know who they actually are… And you just so happen to be the one on the magazines, Romanoff.”

You honestly wonder why she hasn’t attacked you yet for figuring her out. You wonder whats her next move as your eyes scan her face, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Im here to take you in. We could give you better chances, opportunities, if you’d just come with me, Y/n.” Natasha sighed, seeming desperate? Which made you raise an eyebrow.

“Take ME in? You and your little boy band must have a shit ton of death wishes huh?” You laugh, your wings spreading out slightly behind you. Making Natasha wonder how she never noticed them with how large they were.

“Maybe, but it really all just depends if it’s worth the risk.”

“The risk you’re talking about is way bigger than your boyband could handle, I’m a threat, anybody could admit that. I can take this town out in a matter of seconds.” You hissed, moving your head closer to hers, your breath fanning over her overly pierced ear.

Natasha shudders at your gesture, unknowingly leaning into it. “But you wouldn’t have the heart to do it? You know you’re capable, but are you able to put your mind to it?” She’s confident, you could give her that, maybe way too confident..

————♡————

You don’t know exactly how or when this happened, or got in this position but you weren’t going to complain. Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow of the Avengers, has you against the wall now.

The thing is, she wasn’t going to kill you, instead you find her on her knees, rubbing your throbbing member through your jeans. Shes teasing you. You didn’t have to think twice about that as she painfully unzips your jeans in a very slow matter.

“Fuck” You mutter, this was like torture. By the time Natasha got your cock free from its restraints, your cock practically sprung out throbbing, the tip a deep red with precum leaking from its slit. Natasha’s eyes widened a fraction, now realizing that your dick was bigger than she thought.

Brushing that thought aside, Natasha leaned forward and kitten licked your tip, humming at the taste of your tangy yet sweet precum. Before using the rest to help lube up your shaft as she pumps your dick, pulling a groan from you as you tilt your head back and resting it on the wall behind you.

Soon deciding that was enough, Natasha leaned forward again, wrapping her plump lips on your throbbing cock. She swirled her tongue along your tip, paying extra attention to your slit, as she started to deep throat you, running her tongue along the veins on the underside of your cock.

You moan out into the air, your wings fluttering behind you on the wall as you take your hand and run it gently through her hair, tugging lightly which pulls a moan from Natasha’s throat.

Natasha soon enough has your whole shaft down her throat, but not without gagging. Her eyes well up a light shade of red as tears start to form, her head bopping up and down on your cock as your hand rests upon her head guiding her.

“Goddamn Natasha, you’re way too good at this” You moaned once again, lifting your head as you shift your gaze back onto her. She keeps strong eye contact with you as she bops her head faster, her other hand reaching up to fondle with your balls as she brings you to your climax.

You cried out, cum spurting out from your cock into the depths of her throat. Natasha stayed there for a moment, once she was assured that you were done, she pulled away from your cock, a string of saliva mixed with cum following.

She honestly looked beautiful, her lipstick slightly smudged, a light pink tint to her cheeks, her hair slightly messed up, her eyes dark with what seemed like lust.

You instantly pull her up into a deep kiss, your lips moving together passionately as you cup her jaw with one hand and the other is reaching down to her hips.

Pulling away from the kiss, you look at Natasha as if asking for consent while your hand rests on the waistband of her pants. She nods her head in response to which you start unbuttoning her pants, trying to slow your desperate moves.

Assisting you, Natasha kicked away the offending material and puts her hands on either side of your jaw, pulling you into a more desperate yet still passionate kiss. You pull her flush into your body by her hips, your grip tight.

You spin her around, making Natasha gasp into the kiss as her back makes contact with the wall. You pull away as your trail kissed down the side of her neck, leaving love bites on her collarbone above the collar of her shirt.

Natasha moans as she loops one arm around your neck, gripping on one of your wings like they were a handle bar. As her other hand travels down where your bodies meet and grabs a hold of your cock, slowly stroking it.

Getting the message, you dip your hands under the material of her lace panties, feeling her drenched folds as you massage her clit. Soon enough, you tap her thigh with your left arm, a gesture for her to jump as you carry her.

You continue rubbing her clit as she rests her back against the rough brick wall. You spread your wings partially, curving them around your bodies. You could still see out but other individuals wont be able to distinguish your antics.

“Hurry up… Fuck!” Natasha grunts it soon turning into a moan as you press down on her clit. Your lips meeting her neck again, kissing and sucking on it as you create more and more hickeys until there was no space. Pulling away, you rest your forehead on hers, panting heavily as your right hand reaches down to your cock to line yourself up.

“Hurry up? Beg” You laugh as you slammed your length into Natasha, causing a loud moan to rip out of her. “C’mon baby, beg.” As you slow your thrusts to a torturously slow pace.

“Fuck! Fuck… Forget it.” She cries out as she somehow creates an even tighter grip on your wings as she tries moving her hips against you, humping you until your grip on her hip tightens which effectively stops her.

“I know you have it in you baby, come on baby, beg for me.” You mumble against the juncture of her neck in a soft tone.

“Goddamnit…Please Y/n! I need you, please..” She practically whimpers, her nails digging into your wings proving how desperate she is. Her strong facade from earlier is long gone compared to her now.

Her words riled you up even more, making you fasten your pace, your hips meet hers more frequently. All you could hear was Natasha’s whimpers and moans and the sound of skin slapping , everything else just tuned out.

The sound of Natasha’s moans in your ear and her scratching up your wings and back turned you on even more. Resulting in you turning your hips and pounding into her wet pussy from a different angle. Her moans and cries got louder by the second, and you could tell she was getting close too.

Sucking one nipple in your mouth, you nibble and suck on it as you bring one of your hands down between your colliding bodies. You rub her clit frantically as you continue rutting her into the wall, your thrusts getting more sloppy.

“Fuckk.. Babyyy. Im gonna cum” You moaned in Natasha’s ear, your hot breath fanning over her ear and neck.

“ Y/n!! Please! Please” Natasha begs as you pound into her, her hands roaming and scratching anywhere she could reach, arms, back, wings, waist.

“Fuck!! Cum baby, cum!” You grunted as Natasha came first, her walls pulling you more in making it hard for you to move. Triggering your orgasm as you felt her walls tighten around your shaft, your mixed juices gushing together as some fell out of her cunt. Your wings fluttering in pleasure behind you as you keep your cock in Natasha to keep juices from spilling as you both pant to catch your breaths.

You rest your head in the crook of her neck as you still try to catch your breath, leaving tiny kisses on her collarbone and shoulder.

“So are you going with me back to the compound, round two can be there.” Natasha breathed, still out of breath.

“I’ll take you up on your offer Nat.”

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow smut #natasha smut #marvel #mcu #the avengers

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jazjelspen · 6 months

Text

devil's spawn.

angel alastor w/ radio demon daughter reader

(notes: based off of the concept of my other story 'my angel baby' except alastor and his adopted daughter switch places and personalities. In Alastor's pov (?)in this chapter.)

(caution: RUSHED!! definitely rushed qwq so I greatly apologize. Not proofread in the slightest. Might have cringe parts am so sorriy qwq)

(Alastor is still in a way the angel version of 'the radio demon' except he's called 'the radio angel' by his fans, but he doesn't refer to himself as such since angel alastor is actually humble)

(I'm willing to make another part but considering Hs becoming more stressful and it blowing my brain up it'll definitely take time, but always willing to make more if wanted/needed)

It was another bright and fresh day in heaven, Alastor clinging the laundry up on the line while his mother, whom he managed to find in his decades inside the pearly gates, sat on a rocking chair reading a book as she usually would.

The bright heavenly lights making his halo shine, complimenting his wings, other neighborly 'winners' he would be acquainted with would walk by and greet him with a wave or a tip of their hats to him while he was outside fixing their clothes.

In this particular universe, Alastor is the complete opposite of his original counterpart. Where the original Alastor would hurt and destroy, this version of him would care and heal. He was selfless, kind, compassionate and sympathetic to which again is also a complete twist around compared his original self.

Alastor died out of an accidental kill, mistaken for a deer and shot through the head while he was out in the forest collecting his adoptive daughter's favorite flowers, at her favorite flower meadow on the day of her eighteenth birthday.

Unfortunately due to missing his baby girl's birthday and being taken away from her too soon for his liking he has been living in pure regret, panic, and pure sorrow form having to leave her too early and it pained him everyday.

He raised you all by himself while juggling his passion for radio hosting, finding comfort in your innocence and smiles when he first found you and as you grew up you gave him a reason to live and work.

That's the only thing that him and the original sadistic version Alastor have in common; the fatherly love for their daughters who are also their entire lives. Their love traverses across universes.

Eventually the more you grew up the more.. peculiar and unique you became.. your innocence would melt away with a sadistic fire in your eyes that he would notice at times but would try his best to lead you in the ways of love and compassion which you had for him but lacked for those around you..

Alastor was finishing up his morning chores for his mother's home before he would eventually go back inside and get a few necessities before leaving his home. His pearly coat, his shining microphone staff, fix his appearance in the mirror just a tad, and finally hugging his mother goodbye from the porch to head up and down the street towards the main part of the city.

Yes, he was still a radio host as well too.

Instead of broadcasting screams of pain and terror from sinners he instead would give voices to those who wished to express their passions, interview everyday folk and influential people on opinions and advice to those listening to his radio show and he even has good connections and acquaintances to the high Seraphims of heaven in order to get the latest news in the ruling of heaven.

He's just as famous as he was in life, maybe more considering how many people there are in heaven alone.

His polished shoes creating sounds on the pavement as he hummed a special tune that he adores, a tune he used to sing to you. Yet again still greeting passing by acquaintances and fans of his show with genuine glee and care.

Alastor waved off to an old friend while walking by, shining his taken cared for smile. "Good to see you again Roger, don't forget to tune in soon in a few hours! It'll be a real gas so don't miss i-- oh my!"

Alastor looked down as he seemed to bump into someone small, looking down at his feet he saw a young little girl. Another fellow 'winner' she seemed to have bumped into him with chocolate smeared around her mouth with a giddy yet apologetic smile on her face. And unfortunately smeared some chocolate on his pants.

"Hiya mister!" she waved, showing her dirtied little hand as well "Sorries! I didn't watch where I was going..!"

Alastor noticed the stain and his jaw hung slightly from surprise but then immediately laughed it off, petting the young girl on the head in understanding.

"Oh little one, don't worry about it at all! Here, so you can clean yourself up." He then took a white embroidered handkerchief for his chest pocket to give to the little girl who then wiped her face and her hands, seeing her struggle a bit Alastor graciously held her hands gently to wipe them off for her and her nose as well.

"Mary!" A voice exclaimed that approached, a woman than came into view, a winner as well. "Oh! Well if it isn't our most kind radio host! I deeply apologize about my daughter sir.." The mother would smile sheepishly and apologetically. "Thank you so much for helping my little girl, I apologize for her clumsiness! Could I perhaps offer you help of any kind?..”

Alastor shook his head as he would then neatly fold the handkerchief and saved it in his coat this time so that he could remember to wash it when he got back home. "Oh no no! No need ma'am, it's nothing a little magic can't cover up for the time being!" He smiled at the woman who now had her hands placed on her daughter's shoulders with a sigh slipping through her lips. He looked down at the girl as he gave her a pat on the head "On the other hand, are you okay dear? I do hope you didn't hit yourself too hard!.."

The little girl shook her head as well in reply, "Nu-uh mister! Thank you for helping me! I promise not to bump into anymore misters or any misseses!" Oh her messing up of words ringed a bell in his head

"How darling! Take care of yourself and your mother now, " He looked up at the woman to then lower his head slightly in respect before resuming his steps again "Apologies for the rush, just trying to see if I can get some special guests on my radio show tonight!"

The woman waved at him 'goodbye' with her young girl following suit "Oh I sure hope they agree! Good day to you Alastor!"

"Good day to you as well madame!" he waved back as he finally took enough steps away from them to now get a clearer view of the inside of the city.

He couldn't help but sigh in despair, he remembers when he used to have his own little girl.

Took care of her as if she was his own blood, as if they came form the same flesh and heritage.

And although you didn't, he never loved you any less.

His smile faltered slightly but picked it up quickly, rushing towards the next moving tram that he recognized to get to his destination: the middle of the city. Once he saw one and hopped on, he could feel his heart pump with blood he once had as red and now as gold as the tears of the elder angels.

If what he heard was right, he would try to get a segment with three special guests from hell.

Sure, he knew that they came from a place of bad and evil but that didn't deter him any less. From life to death he would give voices to everyone that needed to be heard and he would follow it no matter where someone came from.

The fresh breezes and the smell of bakeries, restaurants, the sounds of workers in mom and pop shops and independent growing businesses were like music. He could've sworn that even the laughter of children and the chattering of friends, couples, and families amongst each other turned into melodies in through his brain circuits.

Heaven was.. heaven.

But his only sin was not speaking out at heaven's hypocrisy or flaws at times. Many times he would but it turned into heaven setting restrictions on him.. silencing his own voice. He was never fond of that but apparently according to Sera and that blasphemous Adam, it was required. 'To avoid panic and prevent disturbances amongst the people of heaven' or so they'd say.

He was working on a way to go around that.. change their minds. But it was much harder than he anticipated.

Oh!-- The tram stopped with a loud hiss and ring.

Alastor snapped out of his thoughts would hop off the tram and finally start resuming his walk. He was now just a block away, the more he walked the less the voices and sounds of work distanced, entering a quieter part of the city. He was now in the smack middle of the entrance to heaven, where ice cream shops were laid in rows, cafes as well, people quietly chatting and drinking their beverages or eating their food.

Oh! And he could heard a familiar tune! It was that one.. welcome song that St. Peter would often sing..

Not a favorite song of his.. at all.. but he applauded them for effort!

Maybe a splash of swing or jazz would bring it to life.. but he assumed that was the old man in him talking.

For the time being he decided to watch some place nearby yet not too close since he knew that if he stayed where he was he would be caught up in the performance and he would have to sing with them..

Waiting at the side and hearing the singing come closer and close Alastor would make himself busy by polishing his microphone with his breathe and sleeve, fixing and dusting himself off as to not give any bad first impressions.

And thankfully he managed to remember his stain that the little girl left-- forgetting about it due to wanting to get to his destination on time and helping the poor thing. With a gentle swish of his staff pointed at the stained he then managed to cover it with his heaven-given magic.

Once the full group performance made his way towards his direction was when he stood up straight, chin high, shoulders fixed, looking good as always Alastor.

He heard Emily's voice among the performance, the youngest of the two Seraphims.

He's quite close with the two, at first only starting as something for business until one day he got closer to them and confessed his past, and his regrets.

Emily reminds him much of his daughter, the high angel having an enthusiasm and mentality of a late teenager or young woman, same age his daughter was when he last saw her.

He thought, wondered, pondered, dreamed-- what his little girl grew up into.

His eyes stared at his microphone, the shine of silver blinding him when he turned it for a spot of sunshine to burn his eyes slightly.

Did she grow up into an incredible woman? Did she ever find love? Settle down and have children? How has she matured? Does she resent him for leaving him so soon even if he never meant to? Does she look completely different? Did she ever change her name?

Were you even up here at all?

He hopes you were, looking and asking for you far and wide in heaven. Did you seclude yourself? Did you hide from him on purpose?

Or were you simply in hell..

No-- his little girl couldn't be in hell. Sure she had concerning hobbies, thoughts, ways of doing things but it didn't deserve her going to hell of all places.

You had to be up here, somewhere.. you had to.

A somber sigh escaped his lips as he stared at his reflection in the object between his palms and fingers. His heavy heart tugging and ripping itself apart.

'my little girl.. where are you?'

"Alastor!! Hey!"

A young voice shouted at him from afar, looking up he saw Emily wave and ushered him to head towards her way from afar.

He let go of his guilt for now, and shined his iconic smile as always.

"Why hello Emily, Sera," he lowered his head at the high angels in respect for them "How may I help you ladies today? I see we have new visitors!" His head moved to look at the other three ladies in front of him that came from below.

There was a young woman with eyes that shared the same enthusiasm as Emily's did, hair of sunshine and gold, fangs as sharp reminiscing those of a blood bat, small and thin frame and an outfit that successfully mimics casual sophistication.

Another young girl to her right was one that seemed more reminiscent of an angel, her long hair filled with silver and moon, a gaze as sharp as broken, stance serious and unapologetic, she seemed ready to protect the blonde girl beside her but also had eyes of worry and a sense of uncomfortability haunted her features and her almost slouched back.

The last one, really shook him up.

The next young woman to the left of the blonde girl was adorned in nothing but pure red with tones of a deep hot pink in her entire look. Her clothes were of an era he knew of very well, of course he'd recognize clothes from the 30s!.. except they had a few odd touches that more or so reminded him of the 40s or heck maybe even 50s.. a bit more ahead of his time. She had a large sharp smile that screamed of mischief and eyes that are waiting to do something-- anything sinister.

Despite all this, these characteristics weren’t the ones that shook him to his core.

She looked like someone he knew, that he missed.

"Everyone, this is Alastor. He's heaven's most famous and influential radio host! Giving voices to the voiceless when he was alive and even more up here, and of course due to his selfless acts when he was alive he was blessed to be let through the gates of heaven." spoke Sera, introducing the 'winner' as he chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh thank you Sera, but it's nothing really! Just had to do what was right."

Sera then lead his eyes back to the newcomers, having him face directly to the girl with hair of sunshine first. "Alastor, I present to you the Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, Charlie Morningstar. She's here to present a few ideas to the court the next day."

Alastor's eyes widened in surprise, "Princess! I didn't know royalty were to visit us today!" he bowed down towards the girl as to pay his respects, standing back straight once he finished. "A pleasure to meet you sweetheart quite the pleasure! Didn't expect our guests to be of royalty so apologies to any bad manners."

The princess shook her head with a large smile "Oh!-- don't worry you didn't give off any bad manners! It's nice to meet you too Mr...Alastor!.. it.. it's very admirable what you did before and what you do now! You seem to have earned your place here quite well!"

The man shook his head as well in reply "Oh like I said it's nothing! If anything I should thank my daughter, she was my reason and my motivation to be nothing but kind to others to present a good example! I continue to do so in her honor."

Charlie's eyes grew as a soft 'awwww' escaped her lips "You must love your daughter very much..!"

Alastor nodded, "Of course I do! As a father always should!"

Charlie opened her mouth again to speak, her eyes filled with a sense of bittersweetness until she was suddenly interrupted by the young woman dressed in red. She walked in between Alastor and Charlie with a sense of charm and enthusiasm, the spirit of a presenter or spokesperson shining in her body language and way of speaking.

"How delightful! The love of a parent transcends heaven and earth! Now that's poetry!" the girl's voice was glitched out and heavily amplified with a strong sound of static, as if her vocal cords came straight from a radio speaker. She held a staff much similar to his, except her's was shorter and more compact-able.

The girl with silver hair rolled her eyes in nothing but pure irritation, Charlie giggled nervously as she then pointed her way towards the one who spoke. "And this is ______! She's the founder and host of my hotel back in hell! She's helped me throughout everything and I dont think I would be able to get to this point if It weren't for her help as well!"

Ah,

He knew it.

______, anyone could have that name.

But you looked like his daughter, his pride and joy.

His face still shines with a smile but his eyes are baffled with the sudden hit of realization.

It couldn't be a coincidence-- you looked like her, your eyes had that spark he always used to see in his daughter before he left. The way of speaking, that stance-- more confident and mature but the way you spoke.. your vocals were a match to his daughter's just with a touch of years to it.

And you looked at him as if you knew as well, eyes narrowing with piqued interest. Sharp smile widening an-

wait..

what?..--

You seemed to have almost hopped right in front of him with your hand suddenly shaking his. "A real pleasure to meet you sir! Quite the pleasure!"

You mimicked his greeting yet somehow you spoke it so naturally, as if spoken a billion times before. He was stunned, if there weren't people around he would've slipped and broken down right here right now--

but he cannot, will not.

He will not worry others, he will not bother others with his emotions.

"Good to meet you Ms.."

"______. Simply call me ______." Your sinister grin only stretched, a sense of despair fell into the pit of his stomach,

His little girl in hell?

Did he.. fail at raising you?

Was dying too soon the reason why you let yourself fall?

Whatever the case, Alastor was nothing but stuck in a small limbo of his own guilt again

If he did this to you-- even indirectly,

he wouldn't ever forgive himself.

"Ms.. ______..."

'my little girl' he would've said, 'my daughter, how I've missed you. please forgive me for leaving you so soon... I'm so so sorry my darling..'

the words were stuck to his throat.

a small gust of air was the only thing that escaped from his cords.

Sera clapped her hands together once as a way to announce, "Well Princess Morningstar. I hope your stay here is nothing but comfortable, and I say that to your companions as well."

Sera looked at the 'winner' with confusion and a sense of concern but she knew she had to leave due to duties calling for her and Emily's presence.

Sera gently put her hand on his shoulder, "Alastor, would you perhaps show them where their hotel is and how to check in? It's going to be the one nearby."

'the one nearby' he thought, 'a block away.. '

"of course! anything to make our guests feel more welcomed!"

Sera nodded in 'thanks' before flying off with Emily on her side, herself also waving goodbye to all of you as well.

Alastor paused, before finally turning his head at the girls.

"Well, let's get you all to where you'll stay for the time being!.."

He will find out what happened to you, what went wrong, how he messed up.. he'll beg for forgiveness from you. for you were and still are his reason for who he is.

you were his one and only daughter, he will make it up to you.

"Follow me now! Time isn't going any slower!"

Little did he know, he wasn't at fault at all.

You were just born that way.

You knew what you were and you embraced it as a way to cope from him being taken away from you.

Of course you had to blend in and you took on the mantle of taking over your late father's radio show, eventually becoming as famous as he was and you were nothing but just as charming as he was on his show.

But then you killed, the power imbalance favoring you was nothing but amazing to you.

Years later, you enjoyed it. Killing was your life's purpose. Your crimes were never a subject for you to ever regret or feel guilt for.

You regret nothing.

You were a merciless killer then, and one now.

Through earth and hell, forevermore.

427 notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 16 days

Text

simon riley x reader | drabble | fluff | artists

written as a non-canon addition to in limbo but can be read by itself

If it wasn’t for the porch light, the thick umbra of the new moon would have swallowed you whole.

The crisp night air bites at the back of your neck with icy teeth. It was a welcomed feeling when you had first exited the sweltering oven that Sapori grew into during service. Something that licked away the thin beads of sweat that clings at the base of your skull. Now, it’s incessant. Its jaw clenches until it digs its canines deep enough to break skin, and your fingers tremble too much for you to properly sort through the keys on your chain to escape it.

Snowy fur brushes against your knuckles as your arctic fox keychain dances with your stiff movements. The sensation coaxes a smile to your lips as glittery blue eyes catch the soft illumination of the bulb above you. Soft like a kiss. Gentle like a lover.

Eventually, you find the correct key. It flashes beneath the light as you gently slide it into the lock. Freshly oiled, the door hardly makes a sound as you swing it open and embrace the warmth swirling around you to welcome you home. Well, almost home. Your name isn’t on the mortgage, but your clothes linger on the floor, and you know just how far to turn the knobs in the shower to get the water temperature just how you like it.

You shut and lock the door behind you as your shoes slip off your feet with an unceremonious thud. Amber light seeps into the entryway, and the quiet murmur of the late time news beckons you closer. You follow its call with a heavy body. Every tendon is tightly wound within your body. Shrinking until you curl inward on yourself like a decaying leaf wasting away in the bored sunlight.

Simon is sleeping on the couch. Swathed in warm light, his hair illuminates as if it’s captured the essence of the sun. He’s faced away from you, head propped up on the arm rest closest while his feet rest on the other. You tread lightly on the pads of your toes, curiosity piqued as you close in on him like a skittish cat sniffing out a good meal. A scavenger ready to feast on just the faintest scent of carrion.

His arms are crossed over his chest, flattening and widening his biceps to fill out the width of his sleeves. You gawk, eyes glued to the ink that paints his skin as his chest quietly rises and falls with his breaths. Dreams — or perhaps it’s your presence? — forces his eyelids to flutter, and you’re drawn to his face. Thick scars. Some thin. Silvery and light, or rough and red. You’ve never seen his face like this; upside down. You soak in the view. The texture of his skin. The bump of his nose and the…

… curve?

You’ve never noticed it before, but there’s a slight sway to his nose where the tip isn’t exactly in line with the bridge. It deviates from its intended path, going right instead of straight (or… technically it’s his left). Curious fingers extend, tips gently grazing against his forehead before traveling along his nose. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you paint him with your touch. You feel and savor every bump; every angle.

“You were supposed to call.”

His lips part and dance without warning, and it has your hand retracting from him as if he tried to nip at you. Squeaking, your fingers lock over your mouth as if you can keep the temporary fear bottled up inside of you, but it still rips through your throat. Smirking, his eyes flutter open to soak in your surprise for himself. His lashes are thick enough that they nearly obscure his irises, but you’d recognize the color of home anywhere. The butterflies that were swirling in your stomach a moment before now lay in the unforgiving acid with shredded wings.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” you divert.

“Am now,” he hums.

Grunting, Simon sits up properly. Thick fingers dig into the back of his neck as he reaches for his phone. The screen flickers to life, proudly displaying 2:03 AM and a lack of messages from you. He turns to you, shaking his phone like he’s shaming a cat for scratching furniture.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. “Better not’ve walked ‘ere. Don’t want you doin’ that this late.”

“You know I’m too chicken for that,” you giggle. “Bee gave me a ride.

Once again he hums. The grasp of sleep still clings to him in the form of heavy eyes and lethargic movements, but his limbs act as if they’re full of helium. Airy and floating, he places his phone on the coffee table before pushing himself to his feet. For a man half awake, he moves fast. Arms snaking around your head, he pulls you close, nearly smothering you in his embrace. He’s warm enough to melt the frost still clinging to your clothes; you can feel the way it thaws and drips on the floor at your feet.

“Still shoulda called me,” he reiterates. His words rattle your skull as his lips press against your forehead. Whatever ice still left on your body sublimates within a second.

“Worried about me?” you tease.

“Always.”

Arms still wrapped around you, he begins to walk. Your legs stumble backwards as you giggle and chastise him, demanding he unhand you so you can walk properly. He refuses to relent. Just pushes you along with him like he’s herding you; corralling you in until you’re right where he wants you.

Right where you belong.

Simon falls back asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Greedy man, you think to yourself. Sapping all your drowsiness and using it for himself. He’s snoring. Light and quiet enough that it wouldn’t keep you awake if you were tired. Something that fills the air with white noise. Mellow shadows softly veil over his body, but you can still make out the features that adorn his face.

Wandering fingers eventually make their way back home, and you are once again tracing his nose. Every bump, curve, angle; it’s all memorized. Ingrained in your being just like the road back home. You anticipate the change. The turns. Simon is your childhood house. You know every crack in the ceiling and the coziest spots to perch. His snoring stops abruptly with a snort. Each inhale and exhale is nothing but a gentle wind against the palm of your hand.

He nuzzles into your touch like a dog begging for more and it isn’t long before he’s cradling your head into the side of his chest. You’ve been tracing his features — painting him until every inch of him is loved — and now he returns the favor with music. It’s all thick drum and bass against the shell of your ear while the quiet melody of his lungs weaves between the beats. The ringing in your ears cease — drowned out by devotion and life — and your achy mind quells.

In the morning it is not the warmth of the sun that wakes you. It is the placid caress of weathered fingertips against your knuckles. Roused from your sleep, you do not stir. Instead, you stay still; the perfect canvas to be adorned with art. Each other’s muses, each other’s masterpieces, you’ll wear his love until the paint he brushes you with dries and cracks.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #in limbo

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luveline · 11 months

Note

heyy! can i req one with hotch where reader cuts herself on broken glass and hotch frets over her bc i just had that happen to me and BOY am i not feeling good 😀👍 ily tyy!!

love u! ty for requesting ♡

cw injury

The mistake is always, always, trying to catch what you've dropped. You flinch down as the fragments of a glass cooking dish jump up and spread out across the kitchen floor —a gasp of pain, a hurting heat.

"Ah," you hiss, turning your hand as blood drips down your wrist. "Shit."

You rush away from the mess to the sink and turn the cold water on high. Your hand burns as you push it under the spray, and the water gains a weak orange tinge as it drains.

"Did something break?" Hotch calls.

You tip your head back, watching him approach from the hall. "I cut my hand."

His expression changes from chagrined to concerned. "Oh, wow," he says, skirting around the circle of glass, "did you throw it?"

"It slipped putting it back on the top shelf."

Hotch brushes some glass aside with his shoe and stands behind you, taking your hand in his to pull from under the water. "How do I know you didn't break it so I'll stop asking you to do the dishes?"

"Very funny. Oh…"

"Two cuts," he worries, stretching your hand open carefully to point them out. A thin one stretches up through the top of your hand and up to your index finger. The second is worse to look at just below it. "Hey, it's fine."

You turn your face away from the sight and incidentally into his. "Ew, I don't want to see." You peek at it.

Hotch laughs and encourages your hand back under the faucet's running water. "Don't look at it, honey. I'll take care of it."

He has to walk a long circle around the shards to the cabinet where you keep odd things. He seems both alert and calm as he grabs the first aid kit and returns, clicking it open on the counter and setting out a couple of things. "I'll put a butterfly stitch on the deeper one," he suggests, sliding into the box with his fingertip. "And a bandage, I think. It's not the most convenient place to have cut yourself, honey."

"That's what I was aiming for," you mumble, wincing at the feeling of your hand as it numbs with the cold water, "convenience."

He hums, a warm sound, and presses his thumb to the crook of your elbow briefly. "Let's dry you off."

He dries your hand with care. The deeper cut continues bleeding, and so he holds a piece of gauze to it firmly and apologises with a much softer tone for the pain it causes. He checks intermittently to see if it's stopped, unafraid to press himself right up to your side, his breath fanning against your neck the only sound beside the drip of the tap and your own shallower breaths.

He applies the butterfly stitch, trims the little wing so it doesn't irritate the second cut, and leans down to kiss your wrist.

"What's that for?" you ask.

"Healing properties."

You laugh. "Really, Hotch?"

He ignores your question, covering the weepy cut with a square of gauze and wrapping your hand in a spool of bandaging and tucking the end into your wrist.

"It's overkill," he admits, taking you by the shoulders to kiss your cheek. He lingers there for a comforting second before pulling away. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. It's stinging like crazy."

"I'll clean this glass and make it up to you."

"It's not your fault."

"That's not what I said."

Hotch makes you a coffee somewhere between vacuuming and sweeping. You sip at it, watching in affection as he wipes a wad of damp paper towels. You don't need to do that, you'd said, frowning as your love sunk down onto his knees. You like to walk around without your shoes on, he'd said, of course I need to.

It wasn't his responsibility. Your hand hurts but doesn't hinder. You could've cleaned it all yourself, there was no need for all the fuss, and still he did it without a second thought. He throws the paper towels away and washed his hands, damp fingers pressed to your neck as he leans down to kiss you. "Be careful of the wet floor, honey," he says, a hand trailing down your arm to the beginning of the bandage. "How's it feeling now? Still hurting?"

You kiss your silly, overprotective sweetheart before you can think better of it. "It's okay. Thank you," you say in the slim gap of your lips.

"It's nothing," he says, squeezing your wrist gently. "You're very welcome."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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tswwwit · 9 days

Text

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact.

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing.

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’.

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally - and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect.

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back.

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process -

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him.

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person -

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with - and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard.

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag.

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring.

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy.

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin.

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses.

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong.

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch.

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape.

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught.

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating.

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape.

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye.

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place.

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room.

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections -

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap.

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades.

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up.

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him.

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass.

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site.

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it -

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic.

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile.

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk.

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’.

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths.

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach.

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?”

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.”

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface.

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him.

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick. There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters.

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

Is this a phone?

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’.

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this?

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response.

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow.

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit.

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him.

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that.

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work.

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself.

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down.

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end.

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line.

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep.

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal.

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the -

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly.

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension.

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon.

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those.

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did.

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again.

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen.

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides. The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing. No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds.

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious.

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement.

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe.

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts.

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed.

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself.

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen.

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless.

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst -

The next line of text comes in.

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take.

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands.

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types,

Try me.

#billdip #I should probably make a tag for this 'series'#Let's say the tag will be #Portal AU #I say series but my plan is to complete it then post it in One Big Post on AO3 eventually #I just wanted you all to know I really am working on stuff and I hope you enjoy these two idiots #This is ~5k of the now 21k document I have going #Truly I am caught in a trap of my own making #Suffering is writing and writing is suffering #I also realized while putting this on Tumblr that I can totally change text colors!#I might apply that formatting trick later if I can find a shade of yellow that isn't totally obnoxious to actually read #Little nervous about this since it's not Familiar AU but they needed not to know each other for the Premise to work #I'm excited to get to later stuff because I can make SO many dumb jokes

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