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i need to stop spending money on games
#i shouldn’t have started playing tot again#i’m so annoyed#like my soul feels unsettled#i remember literally a few weeks ago when i haven’t spent money on games in like months#and i was very happy#like obviously i was feeling the urge to spend#but there was just nothing i wanted#now i don’t even want to count how many micro transactions i’ve done in the last few weeks#it’s making me angry#honestly maybe i actually don’t like spending money#i just like hoarding it#the amount of anxiety i get whenever my friends say lol i have $5 in my bank account so casually#GIRL????#i would literally have a stroke#this all started the moment i decided to pull on the weapon banner in genshin#stupid fucking decision honestly#now i have two song of broken pines and no eula#i’m so mad honestly#this is just me ranting#i love money#love love love#there is nothing better#money can’t buy you happiness?#it’s because money is happiness
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Porfiry telling Raskolnikov that at least he was honest and in one bound took the furthest leap to put his theory to the test of actual action——
#Taylor believing a man who is obviously lying to her#like. it’s fascinating to me how they’ll say anything to her and she’ll be like ‘okay let’s go’#she’s never read Jane Austen and it shows. but that’s okay because she’s the character in an Austen novel#she has no sense of self-preservation she has no common sense when it comes to love#and the reason I have endless patience for that is because she IS different. she is extraordinary. she is WEIRD. she’s so needy#so angry so fragile so stupid so brilliant so completely helpless#like the bolter———I can’t even LOOK at it right now#because you know she was like this since she was 5 and SHE knows it#just so. Different. so strange. I mean she ruled her family with an iron fist from the age of 11#and her packaging is so basic and she she had so much access to everything anyone could want#so there are none of the usual marks of someone being so Different#but like. people HATED her from day one. you know her own strength of personality was drawing out many people’s hatred or envy#and she’s so helpless in her own personality because she can never change#like thank you aimee? or whatever? heck yeah there was some girl who bullied her and brutalized her on the playground#and you know it devastated Taylor from day one and still does#and it’s just. I don’t know how people can’t see that someone with that extraordinary set of gifts#wouldn’t also suffer in such an extraordinary way#and ways that elicit so much scorn and non-sympathy because people are unsettled and jealous and annoyed by her#because she WILL find a way to win#but isn’t that proof enough that she is the very OPPOSITE OF NORMAL#it’s why people have to be like ‘oh she sold her soul to the devil for this success.’ or whatever the psy-op spy thing is#because there’s no human way to explain her success if she really were as basic/talentless as people say#ugh this is all so incoherent and irritating and I’m so sorry but I just. I cannot explain how protective my heart is of her#and all the many many mistakes she’s made and the prisons she’s made for herself because she’s LIVING the tragedy#of never having denied herself one time/getting everything she wants#and discovering the poison at the bottom of everything she reached for with desperate hands#like. I love her so much and I am so protective of her because she is so helpless and she is getting shot in the face every time#and she feels every blow!#whew I need to turn off reblogs and will probably delete but I just#this album is all of her spilled out and people DO hate to see it because a lot of people hate her!!!!
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WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. A FNAF DAEMON AU WOULD GO INSANELY HARD.
(Rambling in tags)
#*opens up art app*#okay look. LOOK. i have it all figured out (no i dont)#william would have a bunny. because obviously. thematic stuff yknow.#i think michael would have a foxhound. like before his daemon settled it would usually take the form of a fox but after the bite... yknow#if the bite didnt happen it would have been a fox#vanessa's is a jackrabbit and gregory's is unsettled but usually takes the form of a lemur#now the interesting thing is that in some forms of media a daemon is a guiding spirit and in others its a manifestation of the human soul#now. bear with me here.#what if the animatronics from security breach gained daemons when they gained a certain amount of sentience.#what philosophical ramifications would that have in universe.#additionally: dead people. ghosts. their daemons would still hang around id think but not in the same form as before.#maybe the daemons are unsettled because the ghosts business is unsettled or maybe the daemons are more skeletal versions of animals#saying this because susie should still have her dog when shes in chica#cassies daemon would be unsettled but i think shes one of those middle school wolf girls. shell definitely have a wolf. look at her.#itd be hilarious to give CC just a giant bear in a future where he didnt die.#henry has a dog i can feel it in my bones he has a fluffy sheepdog#charlie... i feel bird energy. i do not know why. maybe something like a raven. death symbology yknow.#fnaf#not art#i should... write this all down#elizabeth and CC would unfortunately be unsettled when they die :(#elizabeth also gives me otter energy i do not know why.
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No one asked but enjoy a collage I made in Photoscape X of all my Lego-centric FOs.
#a sort of tired that’s baked into the bones | mun#demon slaying’s done/time to watch the setting sun | Sun Wukong#every shadow’s an ear/and they’ll listen to you dear | Macaque#every hour is eldritch hour/be unsettling or be confusing (or both) | The Mayor#special in every way/special every single day | Emmet Brickowski#be cool or be cool/those are your only options | Rex Dangervest#heart of gold/just like his armor | Mata Nui#punch away the feelings/it's fine just don't ask me | Hawkodile#evil courses through my veins/but maybe villainy isn't the only way | Lord Garmadon#a peal of thunder/a crack of lightning | Jay Walker#icy touch/but a soul like a hearth | Zane Julien#spidery scientist | Syntax
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yandere! priest and gn! succubus/incubus guys... omg...
he's a devoted little thing, so passionate to his religion and his god. his mind and heart are pure, never straying from his faith even when the most beautiful of people had thrown themselves at him.
and then you came stumbling right into his life.
you, a sex demon. all skimpy clothes, flirty and giving him bedroom eyes in a church. it was even worse that you had thrown yourself at him on your first meeting, clinging to his arm like some clingy lover.
"hey pretty boy~ wanna show me a good time?"
"the only good time i have is when I'm thinking of my god. do you want to join a sermon?"
maybe it was because he was so holy but he wasn't repulsed by you. flashing you a gentle smile as he allowed you to cling to him. oh, a sinner. how pitiful. it's no matter, if you repent enough and ask for forgiveness, he's sure that even god will accept you. he'll help you find the right path that is god. you've fallen right into his arms after all. it must be fate and perhaps he was meant to help you.
you don't quite share the same sentiment though.
you just wanna fuck that priest. his cute face, sweet little laughter... devil below you want that man. plus you hadn't fed in days... you're practically starving over here!
"come on... just some head? i bet your pretty mouth could be out to better use than some sermons."
"yes, a better use would be when I'm holding your hand and bringing you to the light of salvation."
he's always so calm and composed. all smiles and a calm demeanour that never exposes what he's feeling. even his eyes are smiling, damn. it's a bit scary that you can't accurately tell what he's feeling. the only thing you have is the slightly obsessive and unsettling darkness his eyes seem to contain. nah, can't be anything much. he's just a priest who wants to play hard to get.
it's infuriating, you think.
you continue to hold on a little longer. maybe he'll crack sooner or later? he's just a man after all... and you're a gorgeous thing meant for temptation... he'll give in right? right? you continue pestering him, clinging to his side as you ignore the horrified looks the other clerics and church goers give you as you beg for the monstrous dick you know he's packing.
but he doesn't show any signs of budging and you eventually try leaving because you're so starved that it hurts. like damn! you still need to feed! and if he's not gonna give it to you, you'll just find someone else!
however...
"where do you think you're doing?"
"huh? priesty boy? you following me?"
"yes."
"???"
you're confused as he practically rips you off of the random guy you picked off the street, dragging you back to the church with him. and all while he continued to smile at you like he always has. only this time, this smile harboured some... ill intent.
"oi at least tell me what you're doing-"
"i am going to punish you."
"punish?"
he stops in his tracks, turning to smile at you as hus grip around your wrist tightens painfully. you wince at the force he's using, desperately trying to tug your hand away. what the hell?
the priest doesn't let you. if anything, his grip only tightened even more. what's worse is that he's now punning you to the wall, caging you in as he stares down deep into your soul with his deep and unnerving eyes.
"yes, punish."
he continues to smile at you, simply caging you against the wall before his voice drops.
"it's the job of a priest to guide newcomers to repentance and i intend to do that with you. yet, you've almost committed an act of sin. i cannot allow that to pass, my dear."
what the- what is he doing?!
"you'll understand once I'm done with you. after all, the god above has personally given you to me as a mission and a gift."
he mumbles, leaning into your lips before his smile lowers into a creepy and unsettling smirk. bruh you might be a demon but this guy right here has got to be the devil's spawn or something. what is he yapping about? gift? mission? you just want some dick!
"hey I don't understand-"
"of course you don't. you're confused."
he cuts you off before you can say anything. his face way too close for comfort as you try sinking into the wall. um... you don't think you wanna play anymore...
"it's okay. I'll help you understand. I'll help you understand your true purpose and that is to repent and be born anew."
he pauses, tilting his head before his smile widens unnaturally.
"that way we can actually be together under the eyes of god. you want to copulate, yeah?"
huh? what's sex gotta do with this?
"after you've finally repented, I'll give you what you want. sex is an intimate and special thing between two people in love. don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to fall for me."
wait what?!
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere concept#yandere priest#yandere priest x reader#gn reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting
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Since your stuck I decided to help you out with the power of creativity!
How would characters of Hazbin Hotel react to Swan/Duck reader it's branching from penguin reader with how she got stuck in hell for a while
The power mainly focuses on them flying and wind magic ect!
REMINDER: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED‼️
HAZBIN HOTEL X DUCK! READER
Warning: yandere themes.
prompt: a common mistake made your life eventual as people started to fawn over you
You were supposed to be in heaven…BUT NOOOO, they sent you to hell because they mistook you for someone else. They could’ve just said they were full like a night club…
So now you are in a pond swimming around peacefully. But there’s always a man with a hat and an apple cane that comes to see you literally everyday. You don’t know who he is, but he got attached badly. He would bring bread and show you rubber ducks with an awkward smile.
You just go over to him and eat the bread. You never learned how to talk since birth since your mother abused you. Being jealous of your pure soul and natural beauty. She always told you to shush. Making the sour taste in your mouth sting to never talk.
Eventually the man introduced himself as Lucifer, that’s when it hit you that this man was the first fallen angel, and king of hell. He must have seen your eyes widen in shock. “You can understand me?” He asked you as he scratched under your beak making you lean in his touch. You nodded as he smiles showing his sharp teeth.
“That’s even bettter.” He said
Two days after that, you were literally sleeping when you woke up to feel two hands pick you up, it was Lucifer who cooed at your drowsy face as he takes you to a hotel. Were you finally getting a place to stay instead of outside?
“Listen, my daughter has a dream…to redeem sinners…I wanna believe in her, but our people chose to make hell this way.” He says with a somber look. He took you inside to see basically a female version of Lucifer but more cheery looking as she gasped at you. “Dad? Is that the duck you’ve been talking about?! Aww they’re soooo cute!” She says as she holds you.
And that’s your story of how now you are basically part of the hotel’s family.
I imagine you just getting prince/princess treatment everyday from the hotel and Lucifer himself as he literally trims your duck fur as you just sit there on a fancy ass pillow.
I headcannon that angel dust buys you shades a lot because your yellow/white feathers is so majestic, he just had to make you even more bad ass.
Angel dust loves how high headed you are, not letting anyone tear you down even with a word. He admires you, so he wants you to admire him as well.
I headcannon for you to deadass have an attitude when bothered. Literally Alastor wanted to see what was so special about you. And so he woke you up from your beauty sleep making you go haywire on him.
You pecked him as he tried to hit you, possibly trying to injure you only to injure himself as he came out pissed off with a smile. He definitely spit out a feather as you quacked out a laugh as if this shit was looney tunes.
Charlie always rants to you about her days and how her and vaggie’s relationship is going. Charlie was notified by her father that you can understand her. She doubted it at first, but when you actually nodded she gasped shocked with stars in her eyes.
You and Charlie grew close…to the point she was almost like her father. Constantly checking up on you, feeding you. Watching you. You tried to push it off…but it was kinda unsettling.
You could obviously fly, which you do around the hotel to spread your wings. But when you fly you have a glowing yellow light around you.
I can see you just chilling at the bar as residents come in and out as you just get petted as husk grumbles a little and also pets you. Husk was immediately enchanted by your soft duck feathers
You love to make small tornados at sinners who cause trouble in the hotel. You are the hotel’s duck, so you must at least protect the guests at least.
Vaggie is the one to always make sure to research what ducks eat before making sure you can eat them. She likes how you make everyone feel fuzzy and warm inside. Even her.
You damn well hated that you died into a duck body..but it felt nice knowing that you couldn’t just live the possible human or at least whatever you are. Demon or angel. You could possibly be in a pond sleeping and eating bread all damn day.
I imagine Sir Pentious had put a top hat on you that’s similar like the ones his egg boiz wear. So he loves to have you around when he builds things.
You doze off like this and it’s so cute to the point they will record and take a picture of you. (If you don’t wanna click link, it’s a duck nodding its head off until it goes limp since the duck is tired)
I headcannon Alastor to hate you at first and want to cook you for duck stew, but then he falls in love with how entertaining and smart you are. You technically aren’t just a mere duck.
I can see you just making small hurricanes in your bath tub when niffty has to wash you. You once accidentally splashed her. But she chuckled splashing you.
A sinner once tried to take you from the hotel’s pond that Lucifer made for you only be found 30 secs later taking you.
“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TOUCHING MY DUCKLING?!” Lucifer yells angrily at the sinner who got knocked flat on their ass. His demon form was coming out as fire spits out his mouth when he huffed.
You did a comedic side eye at Lucifer who was acting possessive as hell itself. You didn’t even know what to do as this man kept holding you like a pet duck you seen fat white men do in the streets.
The sinner didn’t live after that.
I can see husk just petting you softly and then eventually just falling asleep on your body. Like his head is on your body as you just watch hell tv as he snores. Oddly comfortable in your soft feathers.
You literally waddle around the hotel wearing a cute scarf with your favorite color. Alastor oddly knitted it for you like a old grandma to their grandchild 😭
I imagine you just side eyeing Lucifer as he suddenly had the urge to read more information about ducks and how their eggs look. So imagine how Lucifer would act if you pregnant. But the thing is, you rather die then be in pain in birth.
Lucifer makes you a lot of blue things to remind you of a pond since that was the place you chill in a lot. It was to the poke Charlie and Lucifer nodded to make you a pond in the backside of the hotel. It’s your little chill haven.
You felt pissy one day because your feathers were molting..so the wind outside was heavy cause your feathers were just falling and you hated it. You felt insecure but the crew felt your feelings and started to cheer you up. Soon or later, your new feathers came back quickly.
The Vee’s had definitely notice your presence since you first came here. I mean who the hell looks like a damn duck down here with pure beautiful feathers that remind them of so called heaven.
I can see the Vee’s and you having the relationship where it’s basically like team rocket and pikachu type troupe. 😭 they always fail trying to kidnap you because you literally put out ducks that look like you and they fall for it, EVERY SINGLE TIME-
I headcannon you have a ribbon your favorite color wrapped around your neck like a bow or collar with your name on it❤️
Vox had literally set his drone to spy on you as he watches with a sick grin at how adorable and elegant you looked just swimming in your sweet pond and how you just outsmart Alastor. 
Imagine how badass you are to suddenly turn big in size because the hotel was being threatened. So you literally grew in a size of the hotel building and flapped your wings to fly them bitches to who knows nowhere.
If you were on the same branch, you would definitely be the older sister of penguin! Reader if it was lore type shit 😭 you don’t play no games about your emotions as you are always observing
LOL IMAGINE YOU WADDLING TO GO TO THE BATHROOM LIKE A HUMAN AND THE EGG BOIZ JUST FOLLOW AFTER YOU AS IF YOU WERE THEIR MOTHER-
The Vee’s definitely sneak on you by Vox’s drone that swarms around your pond without your knowledge.
Velvette literally sends you nice outfits your size. Literally cute outfits where the holes are for your wings so you can fly and look drippy as hell.
See I could definitely imagine you sneaking out the hotel to just get hooked up with your new outfit stylist which is Velvette now.
Vox
Imagine how cold the state duck! Reader has (hear me out, edit audio type shit starts playing-)
I can see you just swimming and Lucifer takes a picture of you, admiring your beauty in place as you just flock around your damn pond. “That’s my baby….” He says wiping a dramatic tear from his eyes.
Valentino. Now I won’t say he would be obsessed romantically but more platonically as he would love for you to be part of his life as his pet only. Like an actual pet he would take care of.
I headcannon Alastor actually tried to feed you some bread…and you accepted it making Alastor smile wildly at how you trusted him getting close to you for one.
Lmao you literally did some Wingardium Leviosa ass shit on someone because you didn’t like how they looked at you 😭
You literally are so coddled and spoiled…it was to the point you would be walking or more like waddling down the damn streets alone and people would aw at your beauty and gracious. It’s overwhelming, but at least you know people won’t fuck with you.
But people just never learnt to keep their hands off of a beautiful creature.
Once Adam got sent down to find an angel that was suppose to be in heaven. He didn’t except for you to be a fuckin duck. So he laughed and took you up with ease as you quacked furiously, trying to get at least someone’s attention.
It was too late as Lucifer sees you get flown up into the heaven portal. Lucifer dropped the tray of lemonade in shock to see his beloved flying into the portal. Lucifer felt his heart squeeze knowing that the bastard knew he couldn’t get into heaven.
Lucifer quickly spout out his wings and fly sharply towards adam’s fading figure. Adam snickers seeing Lucifer’s anger in his glowing red eyes. He turned around and waved you around to taunt Lucifer as you had a “I don’t have time for this…” face. Literally you pecked Adam’s face and hands making Adam spazz out and throw you at Lucifer’s face.
“FINE! TAKE YOUR DUMB ASS DUCK!” Adam yells as he flies off grumbling about making you into duck stew
So Lucifer was happy with a derpy expression and calmed down holding you. He got even more protective as he makes sure you are watched 24/7. He wanted to give you freedom…but after that stunt Adam did. He’s not letting anyone touch you without his permission. Of course his daughter can though!
But what if Adam had succeeded in his capture of you, things would be most likely how it was in hell….just more clean and healthy.
St. Peter definitely greeted you with a warm smile as you didn’t….you didn’t like how he just sassed you and let you fall to hell. So of course it was rocky, but soon or later you two got along since he brides you with bread. He soon gets obsessed with how you get so trusting over things. He uses that to his advantages.
Sera greets you with open arms, literally as she picks you up. Cooing at your pure yellow/white feathers that matches the aesthetic of heaven. You match perfectly here as your angel form is two pair of wings. Your normal duck wings and angel wings. You are the most beautiful angel she ever met and laid eyes on as she shows you around heaven. Every part and area of it. This shall be your new home.
Emily won’t be a crazyyy person over you. As I can see her being a light hearted person who doesn’t love bomb you in a manipulative manner but only wants to be your friend in a loving way. She finds you amazing at how smart and caring you are towards her as you visit her and she visits you back. She brings you every bread know to man and heaven as she noticed you like bread. You and her are clearly amazing friends to each other.
The Angels adore your every movement as if you were also a god/godesss. You were confused at this attention. It was way more overwhelming when you were in hell with the others. Just like how the penguin! Reader was, you made a social media account and half of heaven followed you. It was an insane amount of followers that you didn’t mean to have. But the angels love to greet you as you fly/walk by. With you being so graceful here, who wouldn’t say you belonged here.
Adam most definitely is possessive and always manipulates you into thinking he is superior. He forces himself to be your caretaker, he literally makes you stay in his place all day and all time watched over. He feels the need to control your very bidding and movement as this dickhead degrades you to make you feel useless. It sometimes works, but sometimes doesn’t. 
Lute is a controlling person who sees your intelligence as a threat as she wants to break you into her clasp. She’s the second most controlling than Adam. But she’s an overwhelming controlling as she wants you you to see her as your protector and person you can be dependent on at all times. She wants you to be able to tell her everything you know so she can just please you.
Adam finds it amusing at how you got use it heaven so quick despite this new attention. You literally sit on his lap napping as he lounges on the couch. Basically watching sports or whatever.
You can’t help but think, “why am I even surprised.”
#ducks#duck! reader#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel yandere#yandere hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x duck! reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin hotel x platonic!reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin x you#hazbin angel dust#hazbin lucifer#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin vees#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lute#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel heaven#hazbin hotel hell#adam x reader#hazbin lute#lute x reader
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König x Secretary!Reader (fem)
MDNI 🔞
Quick note: 💕 THANK YOU 💕 to everyone for the love and support on my stories! I’m happy people are enjoying them💗
For more: Master list
Part 2 here
>CW: fem/afab reader, oral, anilingus, p in v
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Imagine coming in to work for König as his secretary after he reluctantly agrees to let the captain hire help for him. Walking into his office the first day to see the massive man with piercing pale blue eyes. A sniper hood with bleached tear looking stains covering his face. He just looks at you. Not being able to see his facial expression because of the mask so you just stand there frozen. So frozen with fear looking into his eyes that you failed to notice the massive hard on he has growing in his pants.
Your first few weeks there he didn’t talk much to you. Handing you files and asking for little earns to be ran for him, like coffee or lunch pick up. Slowly he started to talk more, “Danke, bitte, nien, ja.” His eyes always boring into yours as if he was looking into your soul. It was unsettling, but the pay was great and he has never actually been rude to you so you put up with it.
You had gotten into the routine and started to enjoy the job. König was an easy man to work for as long as you did things as expected and he never over worked you. As a plus he turned out to be sweeter than expected. Coming into work on your birthday to see a simple cupcake with frosting in your favorite color on your desk and a card stuffed with cash. König never actually says “Happy Birthday”, but this is just how he expresses he cares.
“Thank you, König.”
He gives a simple nod and goes back to typing up a report.
Six months in he asks you to stay after, he has to talk to you. You begin to worry, anxiety spikes as you realize you might be getting fired. Trying to think about the mistakes you might have made, you sit a chair across from his desk. His eyes look away from the computer to meet yours.
Before you know it, you’re naked, bent over his desk. His mask pulled back over his head as his face is smothered between your ass cheeks as his tongue laps at your tight asshole. One of his hands has two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of your wet pussy, the feeling of your tight gummy walls wrapping around his fingers making him want in now. His other hand stroking his cock, using his own precum as lube.
“Was willst du?” His eyes travel to his fingers in your pussy before pulling them out and shoving his tongue in your slightly stretched hole.
“I want your cock,” your voice trembles with pleasure.
König lets a pleasured sigh hearing your words before pulling away from your sweet pussy. Finally, he lines up his fat cock with your entrance.
An animalistic groan escapes his lips as he pushes the tip in. König places his hands on your ass cheeks to spread them apart; his eyes watching as your pussy struggles to stretch, swallowing his cock inch my inch. Eyes fluttering to the back of his head. He feels like he just found heaven in your tight grip.
He was already falling in love; this moment just sealed the deal. A week later you came into work to find a key on your desk attached to a “K” keychain.
Part2
#konig#konig x y/n#konig cod#konig x reader#könig#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#konig mw2#könig cod#könig mw2#könig x you#konig x you
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TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 4
SDE MASTERLIST - fem!reader (POC!reader)
(requests open)
SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?
WORD COUNT: 4207
GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)
CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language
PROOFREAD - (29 SEPT. 2024)
That night, you slept worse than ever, tossing and turning beneath the heavy blanket of your bed. The warmth of the Gryffindor common room did little to ease the restlessness that had settled deep inside you. The wind howled outside, rattling the ancient windows, but the biggest storm was in your mind.
You were standing in a darkened corridor, the shadows long and stretching toward you as if they had a mind of their own. There was a strange stillness in the air, thick and oppressive, like the calm inside a tornado.
Then, from the shadows, he emerged.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
He moved with an unnatural grace, his dark eyes fixed on you as if he had been expecting you. There was no malice in his gaze, but there was something instelling as though he could see every thought and know every secret you had, every fear and every doubt.
You tried to speak, ask him what this was but you felt like your voice didn’t work. It was as if the air has been stolen from your lungs. You could only stand there, as Tom slowly approached. There wasn’t any fear, when he stood in front of you. Instead, something strange rippled through you - an odd sensation, like the pull of a distant, forgotten memory.
It wasn’t love or friendship. It wasn’t fear or anger. It was something else. A connection that defied logic, like you had known him before. It was an unsettling familiarity, as if some part of your soul recognised him, even though your mind couldn’t place why.
Tom’s gaze was relentless, pulling at something inside you that you couldn’t place, like he was searching for the truth. Though, you weren’t quite sure if he was finding it in you… or if you were finding it in him.
The silence was deafening, and yet, somewhere deep inside, you could feel the thrum of energy connection the two of you. Two sides of the same coin, different but bound by some invisible thread. Tom’s head turned slightly, his expression unreadable, but there was a curious glint in his eyes. As if he were just as intrigued by the connection as you were.
Then, in a voice as soft as silk, he spoke.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
The words cut through the thick silence like a blade. Trying to answer you opened your mouth, but again, no words came. All you could do was stare back. You felt as if the shadows seemed to tighten around him, wrapping him in their grasp as he began to fade.
Feeling a jolt of panic, the connection between you was slipping away, like sand through your fingers.
You woke up with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you didn’t realise in what room you were in - the familiar red-and-gold curtains of your bed and the soft snoring of your dorm mates, made you realise where you were.
Running a hand through your hair, you sat up slowly. Your breath was shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The strange feeling lingered inside of you, curling around you like fog.
Beside you, Shadow stirred for a bit, his green eyes glowed faintly in the dark as he curled up closer to your side, purring softly. His warmth grounded you, bringing you back to reality.
The dream you had felt too real, too vivid. It felt like a memory, a memory you hadn’t quite lived yet.
“Are you alright?” Maeve murmured from the bed beside you, her voice groggy with sleep.
You glanced over at her, managing a small smile. “Hm, yeah, just�� a weird dream.”
Maeve groaned, “You should go back to sleep.”
“Yeah, I will,” you muttered back slowly. Soon enough Maeve drifted back to sleep as you laid down, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts were swirling.
Something was pulling you toward him, but you couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing or something much, much worse.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual morning chatter as students filled the long tables, eating breakfast, trading gossip and preparing for the long day ahead.
You were sat between Maeve and Lucas, your breakfast was largely untouched. The smell of food turned your stomach, the distant murmur of conversation barely registered. The only thing on your mind was the dream and how real it felt. The strange feeling that you had a connection with someone like him. It left you rattled, no amount of tea or polite smiles from anyone could pull you out of the fog that hung over your thoughts.
Lucas had been watching you closely, he always was good at reading people, especially his friends. He noticed the way you lingered over your cup of tea, how your toast was barely touched and how your normal banter had been reduced to absentminded responses.
He leaned in a bit closer to you, nudging your shoulder. “You alright?” he asked, his voice was laced with concern. “You’ve been staring at your toast for five minutes, as if it’s going to tell you the meaning of life.”
You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, just enough to meet Lucas’ gaze. “Oh, I’m fine, just a bit tired,” your words felt more hollow then everything.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, not convinced, “Sure you are.”
“Come on, you can’t lie to me. What’s going on? Did shadow eat your astronomy essay or something?”
A chuckle came out of you, “No, nothing like that. Just… I had a really weird dream last night.”
“Weird dream?” Lucas’ expression softened, he glanced at Maeve, who was busy buttering her toast and made conversation with Alicia, Lilith and another Gryffindor girl. “Anything to do with a certain dark-haired, brooding someone?”
Your eyes widened in surprise. Your gaze drifted away from Lucas’s face to the Slytherin table, where Tom sat with his usual group. He was speaking to a few students around him. Before you looked down at your toast again, Lucas followed your line of sight.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as he watched Riddle for a moment. Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. Just then, Tom’s dark gaze lifted from his conversation - and landed directly on you.
Lucas noticed it almost immediately.
For a moment, Tom’s eyes lingered, his expression was unreadable as he seemed to study you from across the hall. There was no frown, no smile, just that same unnerving intensity he always carried. But the second Lucas’ gaze met his, Tom’s eyes flickered. As if nothing happened, Tom smoothly looked away, turning his attention back to his table.
But Lucas saw enough.
He turned back to you, “Riddle was just staring at you.” Lucas looked at your reaction, “Again.”
With furrowed brows you looked up at him. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
“I’ve noticed it before. In the library, the halls. It’s subtle, but its there. He watches you, and I don’t mean in a charming, ‘oh, look, someone has a crush’, kind of way.” Lucas took a breath, “its a look as if he’s trying to read you; trying to calculate every move you’ll make before you do it.”
You felt your stomach tighten, it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed the way Tom’s eyes seemed to follow you in class or when you’d walk by his group of ‘friends’. But you knew he watched almost everyone, he was always analysing people. Especially the ones who were obsessed with him, it was as if he was a famous person, so how could him staring at you be any different?
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking down at the new cup of tea you had. “It’s probably nothing, maybe he just-”
“No,” Lucas interrupted firmly, “It’s not nothing. The way he looks at you… I’ve seen Riddle do his ‘perfect student, teacher’s pet, everyone-wants-to-be-me’ act a hundred times. This isn’t that.”
You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you just wanted to brush it off, tell Lucas that he was just being paranoid. The connection you had with Tom was strange but it was there. And if Lucas noticed it.. then it wasn’t just in your head.
Before either of you could talk about it any more, Alicia interrupted the conversation, never had you been more thankful to the red-headed girl.
You tried to shake the feeling of Tom’s gaze on you, even though he wasn’t looking anymore. The feeling lingered in the back of your mind, just as it had in the dream, refusing to be ignored. As if the feeling had a mind of its own.
Something was happening, and Tom Riddle was at the center of it. Whether you liked it or not, you were already caught in his little game.
Potions class was where the real challenge came. Sitting beside Alicia in the dimly lit dungeon classroom, you were acutely aware of the bubbling cauldrons surrounding you. The thick, earthy smell of ingredients filled the air as professor Slughorn was explaining today’s assignment - you had to brew a Draught of Living Death, an advanced potion, something different then the calming draught you had to make last time for marks.
Alicia carefully laid out the ingredients in front of her, Lucas and Lilith - who were sat behind you - were silently bickering over who got to chop the sopophorous bean.
“I’ve got this, Luca,” Lilith said pointedly, her hand already hovering over the ingredients.
“Come on, you know I’m better with chopping things up,” Lucas insisted. “Back me up here, Y/n!”
You raised an eyebrow, stirring your potion carefully. “I’m not getting involved in this.”
Alicia snickered from beside you, “You two always bicker like an old married couple. It’s almost as if you’ve got a crush on her, Lucas.”
Lucas let Lilith chop up the beans as he started working on the liquids. You leaned back in your seat, nudging his arm playfully. “Come on, Lucas, don’t get shy on us now.”
He chuckled, “I’m just making sure no one ruins the potion, alright? That’s all.”
Lilith gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes narrowing suspiciously but saying nothing. You caught the flicker of something in Lucas’s expression, something unspoken, but before you could dwell on it, Slughorn’s voice boomed through the classroom, reminding everyone to pay attention to their cauldrons.
As class continued, your friends fell back into their usual banter.
The greenhouse felt warm, humid and was filled with the scent of earth and greenery. Rows of strange, magical plants surrounded the students as they gathered around their tables.
You were standing at one of the tables, glancing over at the assortment of magical herbs laid out before you, gloves on your hands and a frown of concentration on your face. Lucas stood beside you, casually leaning against the edge of the table, fiddling with a small pair of pruning shears while he watched you.
“So,” Lucas said, breaking the silence between you, “do you think Professor Garlick would notice if we ‘accidentally’ might have lost one of these Venomous Tentacula seedlings?” His eyes flicked over to a particularly spiky plant sitting ominously in a pot in front of you.
You chuckled, shaking your head a bit. “Knowing our luck, the thing would probably crawl behind us in the common room and bite us.”
He grinned, tossing the shears from hand to hand in an exaggerated manner. “Fair point. I’m not sure I want a plant that’s actively trying to kill me hanging out in the common room.”
“Good decision,” you said with a smirk. “I prefer my plants a little less homicidal, thank you very much.”
As the two of you began working on trimming the plants — or at least trying to — you and Lucas fell into an easy flowing conversation. It felt good to talk about nothing—just plants, potions, and ridiculous daydreams of dropping out of Hogwarts to start a shady potion business. The clinks of shears and the rustling of leaves became the backdrop to your chatter, like background music.
“So, Alicia was telling me she once tried using the Confundus Charm on her dog at home,” Lucas said, cutting a leaf that seemed to recoil at his touch. “You know, just to see if it would work.”
You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Why am I not surprised? How did that go?”
“Apparently, it spent two days walking into walls,” Lucas replied with a grin. “She felt so guilty she didn’t stop crying for a week.”
“Poor thing,” you muttered, though you were still laughing. “I can’t picture Alicia doing that, but then again, she does have a bit of a wild streak.”
Lucas nodded. “Speaking of wild streaks, have you heard about the second years? Apparently, they keep sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest after dinner. I’m almost certain they’re planning some kind of illegal magical creature-petting zoo.”
You smirked. “Or they’re looking for unicorns. Lili swore she saw one last year.”
“Right, Lilith and her unicorn conspiracy theory. Typical.” Lucas laughed, reaching for another spiky plant.
Just then, the door to the greenhouse creaked open slowly, and a small group of Slytherins sauntered in late, earning a stern look from Professor Garlick. They made their way to the far side of the room, chatting quietly among themselves as they set up at one of the tables. You didn’t pay them much attention at, mostly focused on your own work. “Has Alicia asked you to come with us to Hogsmeade? Lilith, Maeve, some Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are also going.”
“Hogsmeade?” you repeated. “She mentioned it before, but I wasn’t sure if it was a solid plan yet. What time are you all thinking of going?”
Lucas shrugged. “Around 12, I think. We’re meeting by the main gates.”
Students from all houses were chattering away between mouthfuls of food. Plates shimmered with roast chicken, potatoes, and a variety of desserts and some other greens. You sat next to Lucas and Maeve, across from Lilith who was next to Alicia. Quietly, you stuffed your face with the contents that were on your plate as your thoughts drifted back to the events of the day.
Tom Riddle. His name lingered in your mind, and you could feel his eyes on you throughout the day, a quiet, intense presence that you couldn’t escape. Even now, as you sat at the Gryffindor table.
“Are you going to eat that?” Lucas nudged your elbow, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, glancing down at the roast chicken you hadn’t touched. “Oh, uh… no. You can have it if you want.” Besides, you already ate two big pieces.
Lucas didn’t need to be told twice. He took the chicken with his fork and placed it on his own plate, grinning at you. “Thanks.”
“-and then, after Professor Slughorn turned around, the cauldron exploded! I swear, there’s still some kind of purple gunk in my hair,” Maeve was saying, holding up a lock of her curly dark hair that was painted purple with a look of sheer horror. “I’ve washed it three times, and it won’t come out!”
Alicia grinned as she stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “Could be worse. At least it didn’t turn green. Imagine walking around Hogwarts looking like a Slytherin all week.”
You laughed along with them, feeling your anxieties lessen as the conversation flowed around you. All of you were almost done with eating, well, except for Lucas.
“Alright, best part of the day, hands down,” Lucas said, piling his plate high with food. “Herbology was fun and all, but nothing beats dinner.”
Alicia rolled her eyes, delicately spooning her leftover mashed potatoes onto her plate. “You say that every day, Lucas.”
“Because it’s true every day,” he replied, grinning. “This is basically my moment of glory.”
Maeve laughed as she passed the gravy boat to you. “Don’t let your head get too big. You’re already insufferable.”
Dinner had become your favorite part of the day — a time to unwind, surrounded by your friends, when everything felt normal.
“So,” Maeve said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, “did anyone hear about the prank the Ravenclaws pulled in Charms today? Apparently, they enchanted all the ink in Professor Flitwick’s classroom to turn invisible.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I wish I’d seen that.”
“Well,” a voice chimed in from behind you, “you’re in luck. You’re sitting with the masterminds themselves.”
You turned to see a boy with messy brown hair and a wide grin, his Ravenclaw robes slightly askew as he plopped down on the bench next to you. Beside him, a girl with bright eyes and ginger hair tied back in a neat ponytail slid into the seat next to him, her Hufflepuff crest visible on her robes.
“Everyone, this is Ben Selwyn,” Maeve said, gesturing to the boy, “and Cressida Bones.” She nodded to the girl. “Ben’s a Ravenclaw, obviously, and Cressida’s in Hufflepuff.”
You nodded politely, offering a smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”
Ben grinned back, clearly pleased to be in the spotlight. “Nice to meet you too, Y/n. So, Maeve told me you’re new here?”
You nodded, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice. “Yeah, transferred from Beauxbatons.”
“Ah, Beauxbatons,” Cressida said, her voice soft but friendly. “I’ve always wanted to see that. What’s it like?”
If only you knew.
“It’s beautiful,” you replied. “But Hogwarts has its own charm.”
Ben chuckled. “I bet. You’ll find the chaos here much more… exciting.” He gave you a wink. “So, how are you finding Gryffindor? Do they live up to their reputation of reckless bravery?”
Before you could answer, Lucas leaned over, a mock-serious expression on his face. “We prefer the term ‘daring,’ Ben. ‘Reckless’ makes it sound like we don’t plan things out.”
Alicia snorted. “We don’t.”
“Details,” Lucas said, waving a hand dismissively.
As the conversation flowed between the group, you found yourself smiling, it was good to make new friends. Ben was charming in his slightly chaotic way, and Cressida had a quiet, calming presence that balanced him out perfectly. You fell into easy conversation with them both, but something about Cressida’s last name nagged at you. You swore you recognised it.
Bones. The Bones family was well-known for their involvement in the Ministry of Magic, and they had a long history of fighting against Dark magic. It was also a fact that you were friends with her granddaughter, Susan. How ironic.
“You know, Ben’s obsessed with ancient runes,” Maeve said with a teasing grin. “And Cressida’s been working on Arithmancy equations that make my head spin by just looking at them.”
Hermione once told you that ancient runes was very interesting, more interesting than divination at least. It almost made you want to join her.
Cressida smiled modestly, shaking her head. “It’s not as hard as it sounds. You just have to break the formulas down bit by bit.”
“Bit by bit?” Lucas groaned. “I can barely handle the basics, let alone advanced Arithmancy.”
Ben laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. Half the Ravenclaws I know avoid that subject like the plague.”
As the conversation continued, you started to relax even more, allowing yourself to be drawn into the easy flow of banter around the table. Ben and Cressida fit in with your group effortlessly, and you found yourself enjoying their company despite the odd feeling in your chest.
But then you saw him.
Tom Riddle sat at the center of his house table, his dark hair perfectly in place. But even though he was engaged in conversation, his gaze flicked toward you — just for a second. It was brief, so brief that you might have imagined it, but the moment your eyes met his, a chill ran down your spine. He looked away just as quickly, as though nothing had happened.
It took everything in you to tear your gaze away from him.
“Anyone want to go to the library after dinner?” he asked, glancing around the table. “I’ve got some research I need to do for Charms, and it might be quieter than trying to read in the common room.”
Cressida nodded, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Good idea. It’s getting too noisy in Hufflepuff Tower lately with all the OWLs panic starting early this year.”
You decided that it would be good to go study for a bit. “I’ll go. I need to study for Divination anyway.”
Lucas, who was seated next to you, looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Divination? I didn’t take you for the ‘reading tea leaves’ type.”
You rolled your eyes but grinned back at him. “Someone has to make sense of all those cloudy images. Besides, I’ve been struggling with the latest lesson. Might as well get a head start.”
“Fair enough,” Lucas replied, laughing. “I’ll pass, though. The library’s got that ‘studious’ vibe that makes me want to fall asleep.”
Lilith rolled her eyes at him playfully. “Maybe you should be spending more time there instead of complaining about it.” Lucas let out a fake gasp, “You wound me, woman!”
“So, what do you think about the whole prophecy angle in Divination?” Alicia asked, turning to you as she stirred in her tea. “Do you buy into all that? The crystal balls, the vague fortunes?”
You turned your attention towards her, smiling a little. “Honestly? Not really. It feels like a lot of guesswork and theatrics. But I suppose I’ll have to try harder if I want to pass.”
Ben stood up, brushing a few crumbs from his robes. “Alright, we’ll meet up in a few minutes,” he said, glancing at you with an easy smile. “Could always use some company while working through Divination.”
You nodded, standing up as well. “I’ll just grab my things.”
As you excused yourself from the table, Lucas shot you a look, half-joking. “Just don’t get too lost in the future. Who knows what Divination will show you next?”
“Nothing scarier than what I’ve already seen,” you muttered under your breath. You could feel his gaze linger on you as you made your way out of the hall with Ben and Cressida.
The walk to the library was quieter, the corridors now dimly lit by the torches that lined the stone walls. Ben walked beside you and Cressida, his steps in sync with yours, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm.
“Divination’s the one class I can’t take seriously,” Ben said after a moment, his voice echoing softly in the quiet hallway. “You really do need to study for it?”
You shrugged, glancing over at him. “Well, not exactly. It’s not the hardest subject. But I’ve been… distracted lately.”
Cressida glanced at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Distracted? By what?”
You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to delve too deeply into the strange tension that had been hanging over you ever since your arrival. Tom. The dream. The cat that Lucas thought to be more than it appeared, but it wasn’t. It all weighed heavily on your mind, but explaining that to them seemed impossible. Besides, you didn’t want to drag him into the complicated mess that had become your life.
“Just… adjusting to everything,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Being new here, catching up on classes. You know how it is.”
Ben seemed to accept your answer, though his expression remained thoughtful. “Well, you seem to be managing it all pretty well. Better than most transfers, anyway.”
You smiled softly. “Thanks. I’m just trying to keep up.”
The library loomed ahead, its towering doors casting long shadows across the floor. Inside, the warm, familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air. The silence here was always calming, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the Great Hall. You made your way toward the back of the library, finding a quieter section where the Divination books were shelved.
Ben set his bag down at a nearby table and took a seat, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright then, time to pretend I care about the intricacies of Dark Arts defense theory.” He flashed you a playful grin, pulling out a thick textbook from his bag. “Merlin knows, that class tires me out so much,” Cressida held back a yawn as she took a seat next to you.
You smiled back, grabbing a Divination textbook and settling into the chair across from Ben. “And I’ll be trying to ‘see into the future’ through the bottom of a teacup, apparently.”
Ben chuckled, opening his book and flipping to the correct page. “Sounds like we’ve got a thrilling evening ahead of us.”
As the three of you settled into your studies, a quiet sense of normalcy began to fall over you. For the first time in days, the weight on your shoulders lightened, even if only a little. The peaceful atmosphere of the library, the quiet companionship of Ben and Cressida, and the steady rhythm of flipping pages seemed to bring you some small sense of calm.
A/n: sorry for this weird chapter, I got Covid so my mind is FUZZYYY😔😔
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#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚#⚕soulmates don't exist⚕#girl writer#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle#tom riddle angst#tom riddle x reader#harry potter x reader#tom riddle fanfiction#poc!reader#x female reader#x reader#reader insert
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† what do you want? : the fatui.
❥ scenario: answering a simple question. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ taglist: @mimis-happiest-day
"what do you want from me?" the words slip out, trembling in the cold. your voice is barely louder than a whisper, as if the weight of the question itself could shatter the silence around you. they stare back—each gaze colder or hotter, more calculating or more devouring than the last. whatever their answers, you know the fatui don’t give anything freely.
❥ arlecchino.
her gaze remained sharp as you stared at her, cutting through you like glass. "what do i want?" she repeated, almost mocking, but there's a softness - she thought over your words. "everything," she finally says, her hand reaching to trace over your jaw with the tip of her nails. "your loyalty, your strength, your heart. and, only if you're strong enough, your soul." her words are both a demand and devotion, the only way she would deliver them.
❥ dottore.
he chuckles, the sound low and unhinged. "what do i want?" he purrs in amusement. he takes your hand to hold it open, his thumb rested against your pulse. "to see what makes you tick, of course. to pull you apart, piece by piece - and then, perhaps, if you're good.." he trails off for a moment, his smile mischievous. "i'll put you back together, better than you ever were."
❥ childe.
he grins, a mischievous glint to his eyes. "what do i want? hm.." he echoes, moving closer, voice playful but laced with a surprising depth. "i want everything you've got - every laugh, every secret, every scar." his hand finds yours, fingers threading between your own. :i want to fight beside you, protect you, and maybe.. just maybe, find another reason to stop fighting."
❥ pantalone.
his smile is knowing as it forms, eyes shining with something dark and calculating. "ah, my dear, you know very well what i want." he steps closer, fingers finding your cheek, his gaze holding a weight you couldn't name. "loyalty, love - such beautiful words." his hand lingers a beat too long. "but, what i truly want.. is to see how far you'll go for me."
❥ signora.
her gaze is fierce as always, though tempered by something gentler, softer than her usual demeanor. "what do i want?' her voice is barely audible and she pauses, eyeing you closely. "i want to burn the world down, watch it all turn to ash - with you by my side. you're the one spark i never expected," she adds, a rare smile gracing her lips. ❥ scaramouche.
he scoffs, arms crossing in his usual fashion, acting like your question offends him. his tone is biting and mocking as he repeats your question. "i want you to stop asking stupid questions." but he looks away, letting out a deep sigh, annoyed. "you should know by now.. i wouldn't keep you around if i didn't think you were important."
❥ columbina.
her smile is serene, unsettling so, as if she sees far beyond you. "what do i want?" she hums, thinking over the answers as her fingers dance against your shoulder. "i want you, my songbird. to sing for me, to shatter the silence. most of all.." her voice drops, becoming a whisper, like the next words were a deep secret. "i want you to stay, forever bound to this melody only we share."
❥ pierro.
his gaze is unreadable, maybe solemn if you had to choose a word, carrying to weight of worlds and beyond. he repeats your words, considering the question. "loyalty. strength. is that not what everyone wants? but with you.." his hand fingers your shoulder, steadying and grounding you both. "i want.. peace." there's a softness to his voice, a rare vulnerability that you deemed impossible. "stay besides me, and let us carve a legacy that will never be forgotten."
❥ sandrone.
her head tilts, observing you with an eerie, calculating gaze. she always looked at you as if you were a piece of her collection. she repeats the words, quiet and detached, in a way that made you feel like she didn't quite understand. "i want you to stay perfectly still, exactly as you are. i've never been fond of things that break too easily." he fingers lift, tracing your cheek bone, a possessive, chilling touch. "for you, i might make an exception. just don't disappoint me."
❥ capitano.
the weight of his voice is that of unspoken promises, deep and quiet, a rumble if nothing else. "what do i want?' he asks, his tone unwavering but something told you he'd never been asked such a thing. "i want you to stand beside me without fear. to see the world through your eyes and remember what it is i'm fighting for." a gloved hand rested on your upper arm, a surprisingly gentle touch. "and, you're willing, i want you.. as my reason to keep moving forward."
#fatui harbingers#the fatui x reader#the fatui#arlecchino x reader#il dottore x reader#dottore x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#pantalone x reader#la signora x reader#scaramouche x reader#columbina x reader#pierro x reader#sandrone x reader#capitano x reader
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seventeen members as love tropes: choi hansol
forced proximity
'coincidence? baby, they don't exist'
'so, what's your name?'
you blink, turning around to face the guy with who you got stuck in the elevator. he is now comfortably sitting on the floor with his knees tucked closer to his chest, leaning on the wall. the look on his face has zero traces of nerves or anxiety, he's opening bag of chips with a small smile on his face, looking at you like what is happening right now is absolutely normal. is this how an average day goes for him?
'you think this button is broken?' you ask instead, turning back. you push at 'call' button again but no sound comes out. 'we can't actually be stuck here with no connection to the outside world, right?'
'it happens quite often.' my god, so you were right, this is an average day for him. 'but no, this button works, we just need to wait a little. maybe these guys are out somewhere.'
'out where?' you ask, turning back to him. smell of chips starts filling up the cabin and you try to concentrate on it instead of thinking about being stuck here forever. 'should i just keep on pressing that button?'
your voice gets caught in your throat because the guy looks at you with... you don't know what. his gaze is piercing and it's like he's looking right at you, within you, in your soul. it's unsettling, especially when it comes from someone that handsome. in all three months since you moved into this apartment complex, you only met several families and few kids here and there, but never this guy. your brain unnecessarily reminds you that right now you're standing in front of a really handsome guy in old washed out t-shirt and pj pants, while he's at least dressed in jeans and sweatshirt.
'i'm hansol,' he says suddenly, breaking your thinking spiral. 'your neighbor from the forth floor.' he then pats a space next to him: 'come sit? i think it's more comfortable than standing.' you open your mouth to argue when he adds: 'i'll be the one pressing that button, no worries. just come sit down, yeah? you can meditate that way better, no?'
your nose scrunches in confusion. 'meditate?'
it's time for hansol to look sheepish. 'isn't this what people do when they start panicking? i mean- i am not implying that you are panicking right now, but you look pretty worried and i thought- shit, you are not panicking, right? there really is no need to, i promise we will be out of here in no time. i thought if you can sit and mediate then you can-' he shuts up, noticing his rambling and how your eyes grow only bigger with each word he says. after a second of hesitation, he stands up, grabs his chips and comes over to you, shoving them in your direction. 'here. chips.'
there are a lot of things that you can say or do, but your mind chooses to grab offered snack and silently move to where he was sitting. hansol seems to approve, as he smiles a little and leans with his back on the opposite wall so he can still look at you, while insistently pressing the 'call' button. 'so.'
'yes?' you raise your head, slowly munching on the chip. it's salty taste helps you stay here in the moment instead of disappearing in the anxiety.
'i feel like it's my fate, you know? to get stuck in the elevators. like god is trying to tell me something through it, you know? like i don't get stuck just because, i get stuck for something. and then i think-'
it takes you five seconds to realize that hansol is doing this on purpose. he is distracting you so you won't panick and this gesture is incredibly sweet for a random stranger. you're not sure how much time passes, because hansol's storytelling is fascinating (and a bit weird, but in a more 'not ordinary' way than bad). you don't notice how your spine is not rigid anymore, but hansol does. he notices how you slowly relax, hold his gaze more and eat chips more actively. he notices how corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile and how cute you look with confusion written all over your face. in truth, he has no idea what he is even saying, but he can't stop, can't let you remember even for a second that this stupid elevator is not working. his thumb is numb from how strongly he pushes on that 'call' button but he ignores it in favor of staring in your eyes, catching every emotion that sparkles in them. you are cute and you don't even realize it and that makes you even cuter.
'hello? is someone there?' when static voice cuts through, both of you jump a little. 'apologies for this horrible inconvinience, elevator will start working in few minutes. are you alright?'
hansol takes a look at your surprised face and half-finished bag of chips. 'yeah, we are all good.'
pang of regret slashes through him when you hastily stand up and cheer, when cabin finally starts descending. shit, he didn't even manage to learn your name! when elevator door opens, hansol reaches out for your hand and is pleasantly surprised when you take it with a smile, rushing out with the cutest little 'whoop!' he saw in his life.
'i think you are right,' you suddenly speak, making him look up. 'what you said about you getting stuck in the elevators meaning something? i think you're meant to help people like me.'
i think i was meant to meet you, he wants to say but doesn't. instead what comes out of his mouth is: 'you owe me.' at your confused expression, he points at his snack. 'chips.'
'oh. oh!' you exclaim, getting flustered. 'of course, i will-'
'-and your name.' he adds, making you freeze. he watches understanding dawn on you and smiles. 'and your favorite drink. so i would know what to buy for you.'
it's bold. not exactly his style, but his head-to-mouth filter is not working anymore. for a second he thinks he overdid it, but then you blush (so prettily), then smile (so, so prettily) and he knows he didn't mess up. when you step closer and introduce yourself, hansol knows he not only didn't mess up, but also won something out of this whole situation. (and he doesn't know it yet, but this big win? it's your heart. it really is).
a/n: guilty for having this trope as my most favorite one!! and who is better than hansol to write this for, am i right? - nini
my other works are here
#seventeen imagine#seventeen reaction#seventeen fluff#vernon fanfic#seventeen vernon#vernon x y/n#vernon x reader#seventeen x reader#choi hansol#seventeen hansol#seventeen scenarios#chwe vernon#svt vernon#svt x reader#svt fluff#vernon imagine#vernon fluff#seventeen vernon imagine#seventeen fic
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Y’know how doe eyes are suppose to be cute and when you stare at someone with doe eyes they look so cute? But what mattheo had a partner who had those doe eyes but instead of cute aura and stare. It’s an actual unsettling stare like from an angle their stare look darken and it kinda gives Mattheo a shiver. A bad and good one
-🍕
HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!
© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
MATTHEO RIDDLE WASN’T EASILY UNNERVED. he thrived in the shadows, embraced the darker side of his family name, and found a strange comfort in the eerie silence of the dungeons. yet, there was one thing that could send a shiver down his spine — a single look from his partner's doe eyes.
your eyes were large and innocent, framed by long lashes that should have given you a sweet, almost naïve appearance. at first glance, you appeared harmless, radiating a charm that many found endearing. but mattheo had come to learn that your gaze held an unsettling power, something that lingered between the realms of innocence and something far darker.
it was during one of those late-night study sessions in the slytherin common room that he first noticed it. the firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls as you sat across from him, engrossed in your potions textbook. he had been watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips, when you suddenly looked up, your eyes locking with his.
for a moment, time seemed to freeze. the warmth of the room faded into the background, replaced by an inexplicable chill that ran down his spine. your eyes, wide and seemingly innocent, bore into his with an intensity that was almost predatory. it was as if you could see right through him, peeling back the layers of his soul to expose his deepest fears and desires to you.
a shiver, both good and bad, ran through him. it was a sensation he couldn't quite place — part fear, part fascination. your stare was magnetic, drawing him in even as it unsettled him. he found himself unable to look away, trapped in the depths of your gaze.
"mattheo, are you alright?" your voice broke the silence between the two of you, snapping him back to reality. the concern in your tone was genuine, yet there was a subtle undercurrent that kept him on edge.
he shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering unease. "yeah, i’m fine," he replied, his voice a bit strained. "just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."
you smiled, a small, gentle curve of your lips that did little to reassure him. "you should focus on your studies," you said softly, returning to your book.
as the weeks passed, mattheo became acutely aware of your unsettling stare. it haunted him during the day and lingered in his dreams at night. he found himself torn between the instinctual urge to flee and an irresistible pull that kept drawing him back to you.
one evening, as you both sat by the black lake, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the water, you turned to him with those eyes again. this time, the darkness in your gaze seemed even more pronounced, sending another shiver through him. he reached out, almost without thinking, and cupped your face in his hands.
"your eyes," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and trepidation. "they're . . . something else."
you leaned into his touch, your gaze never wavering. "do they frighten you, mattheo?" a hint of challenge was present in your voice.
the boy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your stare. "they do," he admitted quietly. “but they also draw me in. i can't explain it."
"maybe that's because you see something in them that others don't. something that mirrors a part of you."
mattheo didn't respond, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. all he knew was that despite the unsettling nature of your gaze, he couldn't stay away. it was a paradox he was willing to embrace, even if it meant confronting the darker parts of himself reflected in your doe eyes.
#anon¡🍕#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle masterlist#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo x reader#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo fluff#x reader#reader insert#hp x you#hp x reader#hp x y/n#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin x reader#slytherin
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to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday
summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.
notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.
warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!
“You are breaking my heart.”
You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.
For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.
You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”
“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.
Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”
To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.
It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.
But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.
And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.
He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.
You took it as a warning.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
Of course you did.
It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.
You nodded meekly.
Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”
He was still tracing the edge of the table.
There was a small grin on his face.
Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.
His halo was glowing in the light.
“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”
The muscle raced in your chest.
You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.
“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”
Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.
He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.
It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”
Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”
“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”
“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.
You stopped. “What?”
“You don’t love me anymore.”
And there it was.
He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.
He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.
You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.
He noticed. “You’re upset.”
“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.
“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”
“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”
“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”
“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.
Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.
The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.
It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.
He was particular.
And he hated change.
He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”
“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”
“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.
Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.
“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.
His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”
You shrank down into your seat.
“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.
Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.
He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”
“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.
Sunday merely nodded, blinking slowly. “You understand now.”
You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.
Your brows knitted together.
A bell tolled nearby.
You don’t recall any sort of church close by.
“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”
You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.
Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.
When you looked around, there was nobody else.
Just the two of you.
“Stand up,” he ordered softly.
You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.
You must have looked pathetic.
Sunday offered you his hand.
Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.
He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”
Something was wrong, and his face was changing.
For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.
His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.
You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.
“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”
“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”
Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.
You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.
Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?
You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.
“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”
“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”
Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.
What is it? What is that?
You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.
“All you have to do is tell the truth.”
You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.
“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”
“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.
The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.
“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”
Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–
“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.
Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”
You said nothing.
Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.
You were so sick of this paranoia.
When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.
Such a perfect, warm fit.
Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.
“Question: have you ever lied to me?”
You didn’t answer.
Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.
The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.
It didn’t sound like any language you knew.
“Answer the question, angel.”
Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.
“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.
He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”
Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.
Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.
“Did you lie to me the night we met?”
The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.
Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.
Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.
Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.
He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”
“Yes,” you said.
As he expected.
You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.
His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”
Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”
He smiled.
“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.
Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.
Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.
“Yes,” you responded.
He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.
Oh, you were crying.
You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.
He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.
You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.
He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”
You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”
You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.
Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.
“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.
“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”
“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”
You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.
You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.
The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.
Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.
He could fix that.
He hadn’t said a word for a moment.
The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.
He shushed you. “One final question.”
You shook your head.
Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.
His face, too, warped into something evil.
This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.
His halo dimmed for a moment.
You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.
“Do you still love me?”
#sunday x you#sunday x reader#sunday hsr#yandere honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#✦ ( after hours. )
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The lust we share
Summary : When your husband takes you to Harrenhal, you meet his lover. And things don't turn out the way you thought they would.
Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI
Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader, Alys Rivers x Reader, Aemond x Reader x Alys
TW : pwp, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, light angst, threesome, unprotected sex, breeding kink (implied), praising kink, loss of virginity, not proofread.
Words count : 3652
AN : hi everyone!! How are you doing ? SO I know. I know I should be working on all my other works in progress BUT I had this idea and…Well. I had to write this. Who else is excited to see Alys??? Btw I’ve finished my exams and my internship, so I should have more time to write <3
Sorry, it’s filthy. As always.
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!
Enjoy 🖤
From the moment you see her, you're mesmerised by her striking beauty, which makes her mysterious and dangerous. There's something intriguing about her gaze, as if she's reading through you, and it sends shivers down your spine every time. She seems to pierce your soul, deciphering your deepest secrets, leaving you both entranced and unsettled. She moves with a graceful confidence, her long black curls bouncing behind her. You don't know where to look. She's mesmerising. Your gaze is relentlessly drawn back to her. She has curves where you don't. A confidence you don't have.
You can only see in her what you lack in yourself, and in a way, you understand Aemond.
But Alys is surprisingly gentle with you. Her eyes show a kind of pity. You were nervous, frightened, and the edges of your thumbs can testify to that. After all, Alys is the other woman. Or maybe it's you, the other woman. Alys was there before you, after all. And she exudes a confidence, a poise, a maturity that you'll never be able to match, as if she were able to bend anyone or anything to her will. You can see why they say she's a witch.
With you it's different. Alys is patient. You just don't like the pitying tone she uses when she talks to you, as if you were a frail little thing to be pitied, as if she's afraid to break you – but you're no doll. You're not made of glass. You don't need pity. She knows you had no choice. You were forced to follow your husband to Harrenhal. Maybe that’s why she pities you.
She wonders how you manage to stay by his side, when you know the horrors he's committed, and it's something you wonder too. Every step he takes is made of ashes and blood, and you know the cries still haunt the walls of Harrenhal. The blood is probably still fresh, soaking the cobblestones.
She's made a habit of brushing your hair, stroking your long curls, cradling you and talking to you, and there's something comforting about the way she mothers you. You seek solace in her arms, when your husband is distant. At least you are not alone.
Your marriage to Aemond is recent. She listens as you confide in her and caresses your head. You are young and frightened, and you know the King needed an alliance to continue the war - your father had military and financial support to offer him. Marrying into the Targaryen family is a privilege no one can refuse. And especially not when your husband is the Prince Regent.
"Does he treat you well?" Your gaze meets hers in the mirror, but you are quick to look away. There's something too sincere in looking into her eyes. You feel as if she can see into your soul, read the truth, reveal your secrets, and that makes you uncomfortable.
" He's cold. Distant," you reply. Because it's true, Aemond is caught up in the gears of war, and he doesn't have much time for you, but you accept the place he's given you. He has a need to control, you've noticed. He controls and owns and dictates the rules of the game. Maybe it's comforting, for him, maybe it's his way of coping. He never shows vulnerability, at least not to you.
"Does he satisfy you?" Your face immediately turns red. You don't know how to tell her that you haven't consummated the marriage yet. You got married in a hurry. You didn't have time for -
At least he insisted you accompany him to Harrenhal. He didn't want you waiting for him in the Red Keep, he wanted you close to him. Because you are his wife, he said.
"We... We didn't..." You babble. You search for your words. And then you see her smirk, a subtle hint of a smile, almost imperceptibly curling the corners of her lips. You hardly know her, it's strange to discuss such intimate matters with your husband's lover. She knows him better than you do. Perhaps he showed her vulnerability, perhaps she knows what scars his soul. You wonder what she's thinking. She's indecipherable. Alys is a mystery. She exudes a special aura.
" What a pity," is all Alys answers. She has finished combing your hair. She takes the strands that have fallen across your chest and pulls them back behind your back, admiring her work. You hardly recognise yourself. You look bold. Almost confident. Your cleavage is accentuated. You look pretty.
You let her fingers brush over your bare shoulders, the touch light and pleasant. She places the finishing touch around your neck; a sapphire necklace.
"Now you look like a future queen," she whispers, her lips painted red in the hollow of your ear, and you shiver. With desire or surprise, you don't really know. There's a kind of certainty in her voice that intrigues you. You're not quite sure what that is. For a brief moment, you have the feeling that you detect some truth in her words, and you say nothing. Her eyes are shining.
Perhaps there's a part of unspoken desire there that you keep hidden beneath your innocent appearance.
You feel your husband's burning gaze on you all evening. You are alone at dinner. The two of you. The servants have brought the dishes and left immediately. He's at the other end of the table, his head held high, separated from you by steaming plates that make your mouth water. He has barely spoken, but you know that Aemond is a man of few words. He's all about quality.
"You look beautiful."
You politely accept the compliment. You like to feel that he fancies you. But then again, who doesn't like compliments? You cut your meat, your movements precise and delicate, like the lady you've been taught to become all your life. You play your role to perfection, it's a form of comfort, at least.
"I'm pleased that you find me to your liking, husband."
He looks satisfied. A silence falls over you. You are still hesitant in his company. You still have to adjust to him. You need to know how far you can go. What are your possibilities and your limits.
" She's intriguing, your Alys. "Your voice doesn't sound quite the way you would like it to, and you blame yourself. It gives the impression that you're reproaching him. That's not what you want. He stares at you with his one good eye, unreadable.
"My Alys," he muses. "She is, indeed." He lets a doubt linger, and you regret having brought up the subject of Alys. "She sees much and more. She saw a future for me." He pauses. You raise your eyes to him, puzzled. "For us." You and him, he means. And for a split second, you wonder if this has anything to do with what she told you. A future queen. She said you looked like a future queen.
Your pulse quickens. The idea seems dizzying. But there are certain desires that should remain buried, you know it. You don't want to appear power-hungry, even if your core is burning at the thought of having the whole Kingdom at your feet.
Perhaps your husband can see it in your eyes.
Aemond wears the Conqueror's Crown on his head like the Prince Regent that he is, and you can't help but think that it suits him so well. It's what he is made for. He looks like a statue carved in marble, ethereal and suspended in time, the embodiment of Targaryen beauty and grace.
How can such an angelic face hide such a cruel man?
"But don't be jealous, wife." He continues in the face of your silence. His voice is cold. It cuts through the air like a sharp knife. "For it is you I have chosen to marry, and I intend to be a dutiful husband."
You feel your cheeks flush. He's watching you so intently. His good eye shines even brighter than the sapphire you know hides under his eye patch. You feel as if he's undressing you with his gaze.
"I want you, tonight."
The statement sends a wave of heat between your thighs. You know what he means. You want it too. But to hear him express his desire so clearly, as if leaving no room for discussion, awakens a familiar sensation in your core. Aemond wants to take what he wants, what is rightfully his, and you may be sick in your head because the idea excites you as much as it frightens you. He's dangerous. You know what he's done. And yet. And yet, you can't help but want him.
By the time the meal is over, he's already standing in front of you. Tall. He towers over you, and as he leans towards you, forcing your chin up with the tip of his forefinger, he whispers, "You wouldn't deny your husband, would you?"
Gods, you can feel your arousal forming between your thighs, spreading across the fabric of your underwear. He's looking at you, his purple eye burning with desire. Between his legs, a visible bulge is already stretching the linen fabric. You notice it easily; it reflects the hunger you can read in his eyes.
"I wouldn't. Not when you are already so desperate."
To back up your words, your eyes drop to his crotch. He clenches his jaw and remains silent for a moment. You wonder what he's thinking, what thoughts are racing through his brain right now. He looks at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as if studying an unknown specimen. Maybe you've been too bold. Maybe he likes it.
"I bet you are already wet."
A shiver runs down your spine. He doesn't look away, not for a moment, and your eyes are relentlessly drawn to his, as if hypnotised.
" Check. "
He doesn't waste any time. His fingers run down your body, slipping under the thick layers of your dress - you're wearing green to please him, but it's not the colour of your house. They work their way up your leg, up the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin in a long shiver of pleasure. You feel him brush against your folds; a touch so light it's like a ghost. But isn't that his purpose, to haunt you in the depths of your soul? When he ventures between your warm folds, your teeth bite your lower lip to prevent the slightest sound from escaping your lips. You don't want to give him that privilege. You don't want to show him that you need him.
"Indeed, you are."
He captures your innermost essence with the tip of his finger and immediately withdraws his hand. His forefinger touches his thumb, and he inspects the transparent thread that stretches between his fingers. You look away. Your cheeks are flushed. You're burning with embarrassment at your body's betrayal. He wipes his fingers and straightens up as if nothing had happened.
"Be there when I call for you."
And with that, he leaves the room. You're left alone, staring at the flame dancing in the middle of a candle. Between your thighs, your centre throbs. Your husband is a mystery.
You are lying on the bed. Panting, you are drowning in a combination of feverish pleasure and anticipation of what is to come. Alys plants kisses on the back of your neck, spicy and intoxicating like the finest Dornish wine. Her fingers brush over your nipples, and with a deft movement, she rolls them between her forefinger and thumb, pinching them gently. She is behind you. You lie with your back against her full breasts, her legs on either side of your body. Her long black hair tickles your collarbones as she leans towards you, and an herbal scent wafts through the air; a mixture of sage and lavender.
Her lips were between your thighs a moment ago. With devotion, the tip of her tongue explored your still untouched womanhood, collecting the fruits of your desire, her fingers drawing circles against your entrance. She's experienced. She knows what she's doing. You've never felt anything like this before. And when your thighs have closed around her face, one of your hands buried in her thick mass of black hair, she welcomed your climax into her mouth. Her half-closed eyes looked up at you from under her long lashes, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She seemed proud of herself, and of her work. You're sure she can still taste you on her lips.
When she had finished, she remained between your legs for a moment, tracing little circles on your lower stomach, her lips still glistening with your essence and her own saliva. Your chest rose and fell quickly. Red with embarrassment, you didn't dare meet her eyes and see the blatant traces of your shared sin still staining the lower part of her face. She let you catch your breath. Regain your senses. Come down from that little cloud you're still on.
It's Aemond who moves first. He stands and joins Alys, wiping what's left of your desire on her lips with his thumb. He looks satisfied. You wonder if he liked what he saw, if he liked seeing his wife tremble under the caresses of another. He pushes his thumb between Alys's lips, forcing her to taste you once more, and she sucks his finger with infinite compliance. You can see in their eyes that they know each other intimately, that he has already tasted her body. You can see it in their eyes, in the glances they exchange. You wonder if there has been more than carnal pleasure. You think there is. He kisses her chastely on the lips.
Aemond looks in your direction. He burns with desire, excitement and anticipation. You are about to become his and he can't hold back any longer. He needs to possess you.
"She did well," Alys murmurs, amused. "Give her a moment."
But he doesn't want to wait, he wants his wife. He undresses, and that's when Alys comes up behind you. She strokes your hair and whispers a series of praises into the hollow of your ear. You're cottony between her fingers, but your core is throbbing again at the thought of feeling your husband inside you.
"Open your legs," Aemond commands. And Alys gently spreads your thighs so that you reveal yourself to your husband.
Aemond details your body. Every part, from your lips to your breasts, from the valley between your breasts to your navel, and then the curve that leads to your centre. Alys follows the path of his gaze - her fingers on your nipples, and then her fingers running along your abdomen to your folds, caressing them gently. Her index and middle fingers slide between your flesh.
"Look how ready she is for you," Alys whispers to Aemond. You’re wet. His eyes are locked on you, right where you want him most. His member is hard, slightly curved against his belly, its angry red tip already leaking white beads.
And you are ready. You're just waiting for it. Desperately. The orgasm Alys gave you with her tongue has awakened a new, hungry desire in you. You stifle a moan that Alys encourages you to express with her lips along your throat.
Aemond leans over you, capturing your lips with his own. He nibbles at your lower lip. You feel his dominance, his need to own you. He's rough with his kiss, as if he's waited too long. Maybe he has.
You moan. Where Alys' body is soft and full of curves, Aemond's is angular and made of muscle.
"I want you," he whispers again against your lips. His fingers slide down your body, lingering on your breasts as he caresses your already erect nipples. Then he moves them between your thighs. He's meticulous with his movements. Precise. He traces your slit, spreads your folds to tease your little bud. You stifle another moan.
"And I can tell you want me too."
His fingers are against your entrance, which clenches around nothing as you feel him draw circles without ever entering you. It's frustrating. Slowly, he inserts a finger. You move your hips, desperate for more contact, desperate to welcome him deeper into you.
"Stay still," Aemond whispers, pressing down on your lower body. Behind you, Alys runs her hand through your curls. She strokes your long hair and when you move, she shushes you.
"You'll take what I give you," he adds, his lips against your jaw, his fingers inside you. "But if you are patient, you will be rewarded. I always reward good girls." You feel a slight stretch as a second finger enters you, and the sensation is delicious. Delicious, but not enough. Even when he starts to move his fingers back and forth - they are subtly crooked inside you, even when he traces the curve of your breast with his mouth, catching your nipple between his lips.
"You're doing well," Alys breathes, praising you. There's her body behind you, and Aemond's lips on your breasts, his fingers buried inside you, deep, and your body is on fire. But it's not enough.
"I'm ready," you moan. "Please."
Behind you, Alys chuckles softly, her chest rising and falling as she senses your desperation, senses your desperate need for more. The impatience of the youth, she thinks - for Aemond is like that, too. Impatient. Impulsive. She had to teach him as well. As Aemond withdraws his fingers and positions himself between your legs, you feel Alys hold your thighs apart. Her fingers are hot against your skin, but there's something soothing about having her against you, around you. Her presence calms the too-rapid beating of your heart - an inevitable form of apprehension at the thought of what is about to happen.
There's something strange about the idea of sharing such an intimate moment with your husband and his lover. It's not what you imagined, and yet you love the feeling of having them both against you. You're safe. You feel safe. The war can't reach you when you're between their bodies - it's a silly thought.
And then, his round tip rubs between your folds, testing your entrance. The contact is hot. When he finally enters you, the stretch catches you off guard, your fingers close in the sheets, then around Alys' arm.
"Fuck. You're tight." Aemond grunts.
The sensation is new and incredible - the slight pain you felt at first quickly dissipates, replaced by pleasure.
Soon you feel nothing else. Alys' hands leave your legs and move up your body. One hand on your breast, the other at the top of your folds, where she draws slow circles around your pearl. She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing, and so does Aemond. And there they are, both slaves to your own pleasure.
He sets his pace. She sets hers. You know you won't last long; your walls are already beginning to tighten around his member. You feel him so deep inside you, and there's this one spot, this one precise spot that he hits at a steady pace that makes you feel like you're seeing stars.
Soon your husband's movements become sloppy, messy.
"Fill your wife, Aemond." Alys whispers in a commanding tone, and there's something about hearing her give orders to your husband that sends a wave of warmth through your lower belly. She reaches out her hand, strokes his hair, his cheek. "You need an heir, don't you? So, spill your seed, I know you can." She addresses Aemond, but her honeyed voice echoes in your ears. You shiver, once more. The thought. The thought is -
You feel your release sweep through your body like a wave washing over you. You throw your head back against Alys, who is already kissing you. Her fingers leave your folds. Aemond brings them to his mouth - he cleans every trace of you that still stains her skin with a hm. It's filthy. It's indecent. But you're too far gone to think about that now.
All you can think of is Aemond's arms around your waist as he pulls you up so you're sitting on top of him, facing him, his forehead against yours, as he spills his seed deep inside you, white ropes painting your wombs. He holds you against him, his hands on your waist, the grip mean and possessive. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts pressed against his chest. And he holds you like that, against him, when his member stops throbbing between your inner walls, when he feels his member softening inside you. When you come to your senses, still high from your second release of the evening.
"Now you truly belong to me," he whispers against your lips, and all you can answer is "Yes, I do".
As you lie back, you can still feel the sticky combination of your two fluids dripping between your thighs. But your eyelids are already heavy - your lovemaking has exhausted you. Alys strokes your hair, under Aemond's watchful eye. He's still hesitant, despite what's happened between you - but it's hard for him to be vulnerable.
"You did well," she mutters, but she doesn't know if you can hear her or if you're already asleep. Aemond finally reaches out to caress your face with a gentleness you don't recognise; his thumb against your cheek. He's soft. You look so peaceful, asleep between them.
You are not sure what tomorrow will bring. You are not sure what the future holds. But when you close your eyes, your dreams are made of crowns and sapphires.
Ashes and flames too - but you'd rather forget that. Outside, the war still rages.
#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#alys rivers#alys rivers x reader#alys x reader#aemond x y/n#hotd x reader#aemond x alys x reader#aemond x reader x alys#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#alysmond x reader
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FOUND FAMILY TROPE
⇀ tags ; fem!reader, developing relationships, found family, reader is yanqing's mom, jing yuan being a bit emo, slight angst, fluff, happy endings!
⇀ note: here's part 2, sorry it took a while sdjhfjh
part 1
jing yuan never liked the quiet, but he doesn't hate it as well.
sometimes, to him, it's peaceful. the gentle rays of sunlight slowly making its home in his abode, the gentle rustle of the wind, curtains fluttering from the gentle breeze, and the chirping of those tiny little finches that seemingly found comfort in his windows.
but sometimes, it's unsettling. his abode is far too huge for his liking. far too big that despite his huge stature... it makes him feel so small. the quiet seems to haunt him, its silence deafening. The halls are way too quiet, every nook and cranny - every room he barely used...
he was never used to the quiet, never ever got used to it. to jingyuan, the silence was a hard pill to swallow - one that haunted him, one that enables the lonely thoughts and regrets he has in his head. to him, it's a terrifying gamble. one that he doesn't risk, and a risk he doesn't want to take.
yet, he doesn't like the noise either. not when the screams and cries of his people fills the air, not when his friends mourn for their lost friend, not when the final verdict was placed, and not when their hatred and vengeance spoke louder that it drowned the voices of their joyful laughter.
not when chingzu scolds him for the nth time for setting his duties aside, not when fu xuan complains about his sleepiness, and not when another trouble arises in the luofu.
but then suddenly... the noise doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. when he met you, as cheesy as it sounds.
"yanqing! don't run too fast!" you scolded as yanqing continued to run away from you, laughing and giggling as he played in the general's garden. you sighed in defeat and placed your hands on your waist.
the general chuckled, "it's fine y/n, let the little man play to his heart's content. I don't mind at all"
"you spoil him a bit too much, general. i'm afraid he'll get more and more demanding" you let out a small laugh.
the quiet was slowly filled with noise, ones that came from you and your son... ones that echoed through his oh so empty halls, ones that vibrated through his walls, ones that filled his abode with the color of your tone, ones that replaced the seemingly monochromatic energy of his own home... and ones that he always looked forward to hear in the mornings, afternoons, and nights.
the way you and yanqing would greet him with a sweet "good morning, general!" was something that brought warmth and comfort to his lonely heart. something that gives him peace as you began to serve breakfast on the table with yanqing helping you set up the table...
the way you would sing your lullabies to lull your son to sleep, the way you would hum as you cook in the kitchen, the way you would read yanqing bed time stories, and the way you keep him entertained with your company by telling random stories and tales about yourself...
these are the moments and memories he forever wants to keep - ones that he never intends to sacrifice. one that he will forever engrave and etch on his heart and mind, body and soul.
but then suddenly, the silence doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. as he watches you and yanqing sleep.
the corner of his lips twitched upwards and turned into a warm smile as he observes the mother and son duo sleeping about in the garden without a single care in the world. your forms are relaxed, the children's book in your hand slipping out of your grasp, your arms wrapped around yanqing as he sleeps on your chest, and the soft snores you both let out wasn't something he was able to miss.
and suddenly, jing yuan hated to not hear the quiet.
"general, you've done enough for me and yanqing throughout my whole recovery. i'm truly grateful for your kindness and care, which is why I think it would be best not to further burden you anymore with our situation as I have recovered” you said with an almost disappointed and apologetic smile, and jing yuan froze in place.
“I already told you, I don’t mind at all as long as you have fully recovered. that would be the only favor I ask of you in return” he said, trying to convince you while trying to mask his desperation
“you’re too kind general, truly. I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay just because of my son’s insistence and tantrums…”
jing yuan could have left you both to the care of the healers of the alchemy commission after he had rescued you and yanqing… but the little man’s cries of fear and worry over his mother made it hard for him to leave. so he held him close, and chose to look after him until you wake up because yanqing who found comfort in the general’s presence - doesn’t want to part with him.
jing yuan could have agreed without any hesitation to your offer, he could have allowed for you to leave his home… but he got so used of your presence that it made it hard for him to agree. those moments where he feels himself truly relax in his abode, the fact that he have someone to come home to… for him to keep on bearing the burden and weight on his shoulders, for everything to be much more bearable than before…
he couldn’t bear coming home to an empty house anymore, where only silence and noise greets him in mockery.
and suddenly, jing yuan hated to silence the noise
as you filled the empty rooms and spaces in his abode, leaving your mark on every corner of his home… driving away the silence that haunts him as he hears your skittering and humming in the kitchen while making dinner, as you read your bedtime stories to your son, as you sing while taking your sweet time in the shower…
for once, jing yuan felt fear.
for once, he lets himself be selfish.
“…I plan to take yanqing as my apprentice” your jaw drops.
“g-general? what are you- that’s too much to ask of you!” you exclaimed.
“the little man wants to become a cloud knight does he not? I don’t see the problem with that” he said with his familiar smug and relaxed demeanor.
“but yanqing has not made any feats worthy of him being your apprentice! general, I ask you to please reconsider”
“I disagree, I see great potential in him and I have no doubts he will reach great heights and perform great feats… I only wish to nurture his talent at a young age” he stepped towards you.
“there are plenty of spare rooms for us to make use of… and I don’t mind you using them. so fret not.”
maybe, this is his way of asking you both to stay. as you look in his eyes, he looks at you with such gentleness… desperation… and longing. for once, the general looked truly lonely, but he couldn’t be anymore sincere of his feelings.
and maybe, just maybe… you might give in to his wishes too.
sksjdh finally complete, sorry it took so long 😭 I don’t know if I did well in writing part 2 but this is the best that my brain could think of 🥹
should I do a part 3 as well??
#jing yuan#jing yuan x y/n#jing yuan x you#jingyuan#jingyuan x reader#jing yuan fluff#jing yuan hsr#jing yuan x reader#hsr jing yuan#hsr jingyuan#hsr x reader#hsr yanqing#yanqing#yanqing hsr#honkai star rail#yanqing x reader#yanqing x y/n#yanqing flluff#hsr found family trope#hsr found family#hsr#star rail
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What Could Go Right
Alastor x female reader
Summary: Alastor visits the sweet and innocent reader, intending to ask for her soul despite his promise not to. When she offers it willingly out of love, Alastor, moved by her sincerity, decides not to take her soul, realizing her love has given him something far more valuable.
A/N- I'M BACKKKKK!! Sorry I was gone for so long I was out of state helping family but anyways ENJOY!
Song inspiration kind of:
Alastor had always found your innocence intriguing, a spark of contrast to the darkness that engulfed the streets of Hell. You were like a pure, delicate flower blooming among a field of thorns. Every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.
You had been friends for a while, and while it was clear you had feelings for him, his feelings were less obvious. His light-hearted laugh, playful banter, and genuine smile always made your day a bit brighter.
But today was different.
You were relaxing in your cozy house on the outskirts of Pentagram City, humming to yourself as you tidied up. It wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t perfect either. Everything about you was refreshingly simple, untouched by the harsh realities of Hell.
A knock on the door startled you, causing you to drop the dish you were drying. Your heart skipped a beat as you heard a familiar static sound. You quickly wiped your hands on your apron and opened the door, finding Alastor standing there, his ever-present grin lighting up his face as he looked down at you.
"Alastor!" you exclaimed, surprised. "I didn’t know you were coming!" Before you could warn him about the mess, he stepped inside, his eyes scanning your home with quiet appreciation.
"Ah, don’t worry about it, my dear," he said smoothly, his gaze locking with yours. "I thought I’d drop by for a visit." There was something in his tone you couldn’t quite place. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you nervously glanced around.
"I—I didn’t have time to clean up," you stammered. "If I’d known, I would’ve—" He interrupted with a wave of his hand. "No need. Your home is as charming as you are."
His compliment made your heart flutter. Despite your feelings for him and knowing what he was capable of, there was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t resist. Every time he looked at you, your world seemed to stand still.
But today, there was an edge to his smile, a shadow in his eyes that unsettled you. Alastor approached you slowly, his red eyes still locked onto yours. Your heart raced.
"My dear," he began, his voice silky and low, "there’s something I need to ask of you."
Your heart pounded as you asked, "What is it, Alastor?"
He hesitated, his grin faltering briefly before it returned with full force. "I’ve come to ask for your soul."
The words hung in the air, cold and heavy. You stared at him, shock and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like the ground had been swept from under you, and you struggled to breathe.
"You promised," you whispered, voice trembling. "You swore you’d never ask." The pain in your voice cut through him. He had always known you had feelings for him, maybe even more than you should, and seeing your smile fade was something he hadn’t anticipated.
"I did," he admitted, his tone softer now, almost regretful. "But your innocence, your purity—it’s intoxicating. I couldn’t stay away, and I couldn’t resist any longer."
Tears welled in your eyes. You had trusted him, and now betrayal and heartbreak swirled within you. "Were you just using me? Was it all just to get my soul?"
Alastor’s smile faltered again, more than ever before. This was the first time he seemed vulnerable. "I never intended to hurt you," he murmured, reaching out as if to comfort you but hesitating, his hand stopping inches away from your cheek. You took a step back, heart aching. "I thought you… I thought maybe…"
He didn’t need to finish. The thought that he had destroyed something so pure and beautiful filled him with an unfamiliar sense of regret. For the first time in a long time, Alastor didn’t know what to do. He was used to getting what he wanted, but now, seeing you like this, he wondered if it was worth it. Your innocence, your love for him—it was real, and in trying to take it, he realized he might have lost something truly good.
"I… I’ll go," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, turning to leave. But before he could step out, you grabbed his arm. "Wait," you said, your voice shaky. "Please… don’t go. I… I need to think."
He paused, looking back at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, all wasn’t lost.
As Alastor stood in the doorway, his usually confident posture now unsure, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Alastor… why now? Why ask for my soul after all this time?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a small, human gesture that made him seem less like the Radio Demon and more like the man he used to be. "Because I’ve grown… fond of you," he admitted slowly. "More fond than I ever expected to be."
His confession shocked you. You had hoped his feelings were deeper, but hearing it made your heart twist with a mix of joy and sorrow. "Then why ask for my soul?" you whispered, tears threatening to spill. "If you care about me, why would you do this?"
Alastor looked down, struggling to find the right words. "Because that’s what I do," he said, his voice hardening slightly. "I’ve taken countless souls, each with a story, with dreams, with lives they’ve built. But yours… yours is different. It’s pure, untainted by the darkness around us. It’s… precious."
He stepped closer, gently cupping your cheek with one hand. "And that’s why I hesitated. That’s why I promised I wouldn’t ask. But the more time I spent with you, the more I found myself wanting… needing it. It’s as if by taking your soul, I could keep a part of you with me, forever."
You trembled under his touch, torn between affection and betrayal. "But you already have me," you said, your voice barely audible. "You didn’t need my soul to keep me close. I liked you, Alastor. I still do… but now I don’t know what to think."
He frowned, guilt creeping into his sharp features. "I never wanted to hurt you," he repeated, his tone laced with regret. "But I can’t change who I am. I’m a demon, and this is what demons do."
You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. Alastor was a demon, with all the darkness that entailed. But beneath that, there was something more that had drawn you to him. A connection that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much it hurt.
After a moment, you opened your eyes and met his gaze, your heart pounding. "Then take it," you said, voice firm despite your fear. "If that’s what you need, take my soul. But know this, Alastor—I gave it to you long before you ever asked. Because I loved you."
The word hung between you, thick and heavy. Alastor’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and real. It was a crack in the facade he’d built around himself, revealing the man who had fallen for you despite everything.
Then, just as quickly, his mask slipped back into place. His grin returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You don’t know what you’re offering, my dear," he said, voice smooth but strained. "Once I take your soul, there’s no going back. You’ll be bound to me in every sense of the word."
You nodded, your decision made. "I know. But I trust you, Alastor. I believe there’s still good in you somewhere beneath all that darkness. And if giving you my soul is what it takes to keep you close, then… then I’m willing to do it."
He stared at you for a long moment, weighing the gravity of your words. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from your cheek, his expression unreadable. "You’re a remarkable woman," he finally said, voice low. "Too good for a place like this… and too good for someone like me."
"I won’t take your soul," he whispered, thick with emotion. "Not now. Not ever. Because I care too much about you to destroy what makes you… you."
Your breath hitched, stunned. "But—"
"No," he interrupted gently. "This is my choice, and it’s final. You’ve given me something far more valuable than your soul. You’ve given me a reason to remember what it feels like to care."
With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving you in stunned silence. The house felt emptier, the warmth that had filled it now tinged with bittersweet sadness. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor had come for your soul, but in the end, he had left with something far more important—your love.
#alastor#hazbin hotel#the radio demon#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor imagine#i have an obsession#Spotify
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heard you were looking for some ideas for Logan! What about Logan with a significant other that’s basically an oujia board? Like they can talk to dead people, maybe possess people or haunt their dreams? How did they meet Logan, and how did they end up with him, and most importantly what does wade think of their relationship?
I am sorry this one is Longgg
Between Two Worlds
The Encounter
The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Logan sat at the far end, nursing a whiskey, his gaze distant. He had just finished a mission, and all he wanted was some peace—a rare commodity in his life. The last thing he expected was to meet someone who would change everything.
But then you walked in.
You weren’t like anyone else in the bar. You moved with a calmness that seemed out of place in a place like this, your presence both ethereal and unsettling. Logan noticed the way people gave you a wide berth, as if instinctively sensing something otherworldly about you. You weren’t particularly intimidating, but there was an air of mystery surrounding you—a vibe that made people uncomfortable. But not Logan. He was more intrigued than anything.
You sat down at the bar, a few stools away from him, and ordered a drink. The bartender handed you a glass of something dark, but your eyes weren’t on the drink; they were on Logan.
“You’ve got a lot of ghosts around you,” you said, your voice soft, almost like a whisper.
Logan stiffened slightly. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But I know you.”
He eyed you warily, sizing you up. “And how’s that?”
You took a sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “I can see them—hear them. The dead. And you, Logan, have a lot of them following you.”
Logan’s grip on his glass tightened, but he didn’t move. He’d seen and heard a lot of strange things in his life, and he wasn’t easily shaken. “You got a name?”
“Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.
He hesitated, then took it. The moment your hands touched, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either—like a cold breeze brushing against his soul. He let go quickly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you?”
You smiled again, but this time it was a little sad. “I’m just someone who can talk to the dead. Sometimes they talk through me, sometimes they use me to do things, but mostly, they just want to be heard.”
Logan took another drink, considering your words. “Sounds like a rough gig.”
“It can be,” you admitted. “But it’s my life. I help them find peace—or vengeance, depending on what they need.”
He respected that. There was something undeniably compelling about you, something that pulled him in despite the warning bells going off in his head. Maybe it was the loneliness he sensed in you, a loneliness that mirrored his own. Whatever it was, Logan couldn’t help but feel a connection to you.
You spent the rest of the evening talking. There was an easy understanding between you, a mutual respect for the darkness in each other’s lives. When the night was over, Logan offered to walk you home, and you accepted. He didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of something neither of you could have predicted.
Weeks turned into months, and what started as a strange, tentative friendship quickly grew into something more. Logan found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. You were an enigma, someone who lived between worlds, yet grounded enough to keep him from losing himself in his own darkness.
You moved into Logan’s cabin, a secluded place where you both could escape the chaos of the world. It wasn’t exactly peaceful—Logan’s past and your connection to the dead made sure of that—but it was home.
One night, as you lay in bed together, you stirred awake. Logan could feel it—the change in the air, the subtle shift in your body temperature. He opened his eyes to see you sitting up, staring at something in the corner of the room.
“Who is it this time?” Logan asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“There’s a woman here,” you said, your voice distant. “She’s…angry. Betrayed. She was killed by someone she trusted.”
Logan sighed, sitting up beside you. He was used to this by now. “What does she want?”
You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the sadness and fury of the spirit inside you. “Vengeance. She wants him to suffer like she did.”
Logan could see the strain this was putting on you. “You don’t have to do this tonight. You can tell her to wait.”
You shook your head. “She won’t wait. This is her only chance.”
Without another word, you got out of bed and began to dress, your movements slow and deliberate. Logan knew better than to try and stop you. He’d seen what happened when you resisted the spirits—it wasn’t pretty.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, pulling on his jeans and boots.
You nodded, grateful for his support. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, of keeping you tethered to the living world when the dead threatened to pull you under.
As you both headed out into the night, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different this time. The spirit inside you was more powerful than the others, more determined. He could feel it in the air, a malevolence that made his skin crawl.
The spirit led you to an old, run-down house on the outskirts of town. Logan followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. You walked up to the front door and knocked, your hand trembling slightly.
The door opened, revealing a man in his late forties, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”
“She knows what you did,” you said, your voice filled with the rage of the spirit within you. “And she’s here to make you pay.”
Logan watched as the man’s face paled, his eyes widening in fear. “No… It can’t be…”
Before Logan could react, you lunged forward, your hand wrapping around the man’s throat. The spirit’s fury flowed through you, making you stronger than you should have been, your grip like iron.
Logan moved quickly, pulling you back before you could do any real damage. “That’s enough, Y/N!”
The man collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, while you struggled against Logan’s hold, the spirit’s anger overwhelming you.
“He deserves to die!” you screamed, your voice no longer your own.
Logan held you tightly, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t you, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let her control you.”
For a moment, it seemed like the spirit would win, that it would consume you completely. But then, with a shuddering breath, you managed to regain control, the spirit’s presence slowly fading as you collapsed against Logan, exhausted.
The man on the floor was sobbing, babbling apologies that fell on deaf ears. Logan looked down at him with disgust. “Get out of town. If I see you again, you won’t be so lucky.”
The man scrambled to his feet and ran, disappearing into the night.
Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand gently cupping your face. “You okay?”
You nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah… I’m okay.”
He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
Life with you was never boring, and Logan wouldn’t have had it any other way. But when Wade found out about your abilities, things got a little more…interesting.
“Hold up,” Wade said, leaning back in his chair, Mary Puppins perched on his lap. “You’re telling me your significant other is basically a walking, talking Ouija board?”
Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”
Wade’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That is so badass! Do you do parties? Can you, like, summon Elvis or something? Wait, don’t answer that—I have a list of people I want to talk to, starting with—”
“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “It’s not a party trick.”
Wade pouted. “You’re no fun. But seriously, that’s gotta be weird, right? I mean, what happens if they get mad? Do you end up like one of those possessed dolls from horror movies?”
You chuckled, leaning against Logan. “It’s not quite that dramatic, but it can get intense. I try to keep them under control.”
“Still, sounds like a hell of a time,” Wade said, clearly fascinated. “You ever, uh, use your abilities on Logan here? Like, freak him out in the middle of the night?”
You smiled mischievously, glancing at Logan. “Maybe once or twice.”
Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything. Wade burst out laughing. “Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that! Logan, scared out of his mind—priceless!”
Logan rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I wasn’t scared.”
“Sure, sure,” Wade said, waving his hand dismissively. “But for real, you two are like the weirdest couple I’ve ever seen. And coming from me, that’s saying something. But you know what? I think it works. You balance each other out. Plus, if anyone ever pisses you off, you can just send them a nice little nightmare. That’s a win in my book.”
You and Logan exchanged a glance, both of you smiling. Wade might be a pain, but he wasn’t wrong.
#deadpool x wolverine#wolverine one shot#wolverine imagine#wolverine x reader#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett
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