Haunted – Part One
Elain x Medium!Reader (sapphic)
Rhys x Medium!Reader (platonic)
Summary: When Amarantha heard of the strange fae girl who could communicate with spirits, she had her hunted down and brought to her court Under The Mountain. Now trapped with the High Lords, Y/N seeks comfort and protection from Rhysand, and the pair develop a secret friendship. Once freed by Feyre’s actions, Rhys brings Y/N back to Velaris with him.
A/N: I’ve decided to split this into multiple parts as it’s lengthy. Part One is the backstory for Y/N and Rhys Under The Mountain and when they first arrive back in Velaris. I just adore the friendship Y/N develops with Rhys ❤️ He really does like to collect strays 😂
Thank you @shadowdaddies for asking about this WIP, I don't think I'd have worked on it otherwise!
Wordcount: 3.4K
Warnings: Reader can speak to the dead, so this is very grief/loss heavy and there are lots of ‘ghosts’; general trauma themes (+ healing); Amarantha, the Attor + UTM; mentions of physical torture and suicidal ideation.
Cold, spindly fingers grip my arm tightly as I’m dragged closer to the dais by the Attor. He shoves me down, pinching sharply into my shoulder and forcing me to kneel before the High Queen. My knees throb upon impact with the red marble. The smacking sound of skin on stone echoes through the hushed hall.
I feel eyes on me from all sides, from the surrounding fae that make up Amarantha’s court. Their chatter dulls as they take in the commotion.
The Attor stands straight behind me and announces his findings, “As you commanded, your Majesty. The spirit girl.”
Amarantha drums her fingers along the arm of her throne, her dagger-sharp red nails clacking against the stone. “Ah yes, I've heard many stories about this one,” she says, smiling cruelly. “Girl, what’s your name?”
“Y/N,” I respond flatly, quickly remembering to add ‘Your Majesty’ at the end.
Amarantha toys with the gold chain around her neck, and the charm– no, the bone– hanging from it. “Jurian, what do you think? Do you think the claims are true?”
The man standing beside the Queen steps forward with his arms folded across his chest, his form flickers as he moves. He is human, or was, judging by his rounded ears. “Do you truly care for my thoughts, or do you just like to hear yourself speak?” Jurian asks, rolling his eyes. Those eyes - so alike the one on Amarantha’s finger...
I push myself off the ground and stand up tall, shrugging off the bony clutches of the Attor. “Jurian would like to know if you truly want his opinion, or if you just like the sound of your own voice.”
A gasp ripples through the court and Amarantha gives me a serpentine smile. “So, the little pet does have teeth–” she looks down, inspecting her nails, before returning my defiant gaze– “but can she use them?”
“Rhysand,” Amarantha calls across the court.
A handsome man steps forward, amusement flickering in his violet eyes as he takes me in before bowing deeply to Amarantha. He straightens, inclining his head, “Yes, my Queen?”
“Look into her mind, can she truly speak to those that have departed this mortal realm?”
The male, Rhysand, bows his head again and I feel a night-kissed breeze caressing my senses. ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,’ a deep, soothing voice says directly into my mind.
How are you doing that?
‘I’ll explain later. For now, be careful what you say. Her sister, Clythia, is a very sore spot.’
I’m not afraid of her.
Surprise and amusement that is not my own ripples within me. ‘I know,’ the voice says before fading away without a trace.
Rhysand rises, addressing the Queen. “Her power is real, Majesty. She can see Jurian standing beside you. He looks quite well, considering...”
Amaranth claps her hands together at his confirmation. “Wonderful, this is wonderful news. Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together.” She waves a hand towards me, my dismissal. “Attor, take her to her room. I don't feel like speaking to the dead at present.”
————
I finally have some privacy in my chambers. The room is small and plainly furnished. There’s very little warmth amongst all the dark stone, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to fight the growing chills.
I’m alone for the first time in many years. Not even the dead walk these halls, so I only have my thoughts to keep me company.
I feel relieved that being tortured was not in the Queen’s plans for me, at least not yet. And I’m fortunate to get a room instead of a cell. Yes, I think I can make this work.
A soft knock sounds against the wooden door, jolting me from my thoughts.
Has she changed her mind about sparing me?
I move swiftly to open the door; hoping to find a friend, not foe, on the other side of it.
The handsome male from earlier, Rhysand, is lazily leaning against the wall across from my door, picking at the embroidered collar of his black jacket.
“Good evening, Y/N,” he purrs, pushing off from the wall. “May I come in?”
I step back and allow Rhysand entrance. His power swirls around him as he moves, like a cloak of liquid night.
“I apologise that there wasn’t time for proper introductions earlier. I’m Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” he offers, bowing his head to me.
High Lord. Of course.
At Rhysand’s admission, memories of Prythian’s history flood my mind. I recognised his name, and the black clothes should have been a giveaway… But his actions thus far did not match any of the stories I’ve heard about the formidable High Lord.
Rhysand gives me a sad smile. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but unfortunately we’re both stuck here. Do your best to keep out of trouble, and don’t do anything to piss her off. You’re now a member of this dreadful court, so you’ll need to attend all the festivities.” Rhysand emphasises ‘festivities’ with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
“Me? But I’m no one special.”
Violet eyes bore into mine as if they could see into my soul.
“You are special. Amarantha covets power - that’s why we’re both here in this position. My kind is called daemati. I can enter minds - make someone my puppet, read every single thought they’ve ever had, or I can destroy them from the inside out.” Rhysand looks to the floor, unable to hold my gaze as he continues.
“I don’t like to violate people that way unless absolutely necessary. I only got a glimpse of your thoughts, but it was enough to know I can trust you. I have to wear that mask around the others, but I’ll try to help you however I can.”
“Thank you. I don’t understand why you’re helping me, but I appreciate it. And I won’t tell anyone about… this.” Whatever this is.
Rhysand looks back at me, nodding once in acknowledgement. “Dinner is in two hours. You’ll need to dress up, I’ll have some of my handmaids come to assist you. Do not show any weakness here. She detests it and will destroy you.”
As Rhysand is about to leave, a woman with large batlike wings manifests beside him. Her form shimmers, her skin a dull pallor. She reaches out as if to touch his inky black hair but her hand doesn’t make contact. The woman’s hazel eyes portray endless love and sadness. “Y/N, please tell Rhys that Juno is proud of the male he’s become.”
He freezes as I relay the message from the beautiful woman. A single tear falls, leaving a trail of silver down his cheek.
“I didn’t think she was watching,” Rhysand whispers. “I don’t deserve her pride.”
I softly wipe away his tears, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “We don’t show weakness out there, but you can with me.”
Rhysand nods, squeezing my hand back. “Deal. And the same applies to you,” he says.
I feel a flash of heat down my forearm. My brow scrunches in shock as I drop Rhysand’s hand and pull my sleeve up. On my arm, there’s a mark that wasn’t there before. A mass of black whorls around a crescent moon.
Rhysand smirks at my contorted expression. “It’s a Night Court tradition to mark our bargains with a tattoo.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m aware of the practice, but you could’ve gone with something more inconspicuous.”
“I think it suits you, Y/N,” Rhysand says, his grin wide. “And as we’re now linked for life, you can call me Rhys.”
Rhys winks at me as he heads towards the door, “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Prick.
‘I heard that.’
I smile smugly, shutting the door in Rhys’s cocky face. Prick is a much more suitable nickname.
————
The following morning I am summoned to attend the High Queen’s court. Rhys stayed true to his word about helping me, sending his handmaids to dress me.
I never needed such finery in the villages I frequented. Before Amarantha, I travelled between a few temples, offering my services to the Priestesses. Gods, I miss my old life - the days spent on the open roads, the peace I could bring people. There was no peace to be found near Amarantha.
The twins, Nuala and Cerridwen, help me into a gauzy white dress. There are enough layers that it’s not seethrough, and the panels float around me as I move. They dust my face with a light powder and line my eyes with black kohl. They also do my hair, braiding the top section and leaving the rest to flow freely down my back.
I get a glimpse in the mirror before I leave the room, doing a double take at the female staring back at me.
She looks like a ghost.
Amarantha’s eyes track me as I walk the length of the room towards her throne. She smirks as I bow deeply before her.
“You wished to see me, Majesty,” I say, keeping my head low and eyes on the floor.
“My my, don’t you scrub up well when you’re among civilised company,” Amarantha sneers. “Rise, girl. I wish to speak with my sister. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
Beside Amarantha, Jurian scoffs.
“It doesn’t work like that, Majesty,” I retort.
Amarantha narrows her eyes at me. “And why not?” she demands.
“I can communicate with the dead, but it’s on their terms. If they do not wish for me to see them, I cannot make them. And I can’t make them talk.”
‘Careful…’ Rhys says into my mind.
I’m speaking the truth. That is not a weakness.
Jurian pushes off the ledge he’d been leaning on. As he speaks, I will my eyes to glaze over - a little trick I picked up, making my powers appear more tangible to those who cannot see what I can.
“Clythia won't come near her while I’m here,” Jurian explains. “My soul is tethered to the pieces she’s kept of me, her cruel trophies… As the bitch is quite fond of my eye, I can’t leave. I don't believe you’ll get the pleasure of meeting her sister.”
“What’s happening?” Amarantha demands. “Rhysand, what is she doing?”
Rhys steps forward, “My Queen, that look, the hazy eyes, it means a spirit is calling to her.”
I let the fog fade from my eyes, turning to address Amarantha again. “Majesty, Jurian is tied to those objects you hold. Clythia will not come near him.”
Amarantha sighs loudly, inspecting her nails. “Of course not, why would she want to be near that filthy human? I have no further need of you today, but I will come up with some other uses for your talents,” she sneers.
I bow again and turn, moving to the back of the room to watch the rest of the proceedings.
————
I very quickly fell into a routine Under the Mountain.
The twins would dress me for court in the morning, making me look like the living dead.
After breakfast, I’d attend the throne room with the other High Fae. Court politics were… complicated. Fortunately, I had little involvement in this.
Then there were the balls and dinners of an evening. They were always a big event, with gruesome entertainment most nights.
I barely stomached the cruelty. After the first dinner - I spent the rest of the night throwing it up. The torment was only made worse when I was forced to communicate with the poor souls Amarantha tortured for sport. I spent many nights lying in bed, replaying the horrors in my mind.
As each day passed, it grew harder to live with myself and the things I was forced to witness.
My bargain with Rhys was the only thing keeping me going.
I began to look forward to his sarcastic comments in my mind while the other members of the court bickered.
When sleep couldn’t find us, we’d spend the night talking down our bargain bond. We exchanged stories of our lives before and made many grand plans for after. We knew they were unlikely to be realised, but our dreams were all we had left.
One day, Rhys tells me of dreams he’s been having—dreams of a human girl. For the first time, he could see her clearly, she must have come over the wall somehow. She was in Prythian.
‘I don’t know what it means, but maybe she’s the one we’ve been waiting for,’ Rhys ponders.
If only I was a seer, that would be a much more useful power.
————
That human girl was indeed who we were waiting for.
That stupid girl, entering into the bargain with Amarantha.
Like he did for me all those years earlier, Rhys helped Feyre as much as he could.
At first, I was doubtful that Feyre would complete all the tasks. When she showed up that wyrm and then threw the bone at Amarantha, I knew she was special. I finally allowed myself to have hope.
Then she died.
I watched as Amarantha snapped her neck. Watched as her life force left her body, though a spark glimmered near Rhys’s chest. Somehow, he held on to her, keeping her soul from moving on.
Once she’s made, I can feel her powers blooming, an echo of each High Lord, mixed with something else. Being brought back left a trace on her soul.
————
Amarantha had been defeated and we were free. Most of her court had left Under the Mountain already, the nastier fae made themselves scarce promptly after Tamlin killed her.
I’m not sure where I’m going to go. My family were long gone, along with the village I once called home. Now, Rhys was my only friend, and he had his own family to get back to.
A rippling black cloud blooms in front of me, and Rhys materialises. His black hair is dishevelled, his eyes wide with shock. Even his movements seem rattled.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, stepping closer.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, but he can’t meet my gaze.
“Don’t lie to me, you don’t have to tell me here or now, but don’t lie.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it firmly.
“It’s Feyre,” he says.
“Is she okay? She’s gone to be with Tam–”
“She’s my mate,” Rhys says so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. His confession stuns me.
“Oh Rhys, I’m so sorry. We’ll work it out, you have that bargain.”
“Yeah, I- I don’t know,” he shrugs, defeated. “If she’s going to be happy with Tamlin then that’s all I want.” Rhys pauses, still unable to look me in the eye. “Anyway, let’s go home,” he says, schooling his features into his signature smirk and extending his hand to me.
“Home?” I question.
“Do you think after everything that I’d leave you here? You’re coming with me.” He smiles softly before taking my hand in his and winnowing us away.
————
We materialise in a living room decorated with tasteful but eclectic furnishings. It’s warm and inviting, especially after those years under the mountain.
A blonde female enters the lounge room as we appear. Her mouth widens in shock and she drops the mug she was holding which shatters on the floor, spilling brown liquid all over the worn rug.
She lets out a sob and runs to Rhys, wrapping her arms around him. He holds her in silence, stroking her long golden hair as his eyes well with tears.
Two winged males enter the room with a short High Fae female.“Oh my gods,” one of the males whispers.
Rhys turns at their entrance and embraces both males. Everyone in the room has teary eyes, even me, while I stand awkwardly to the side.
I’m not usually a crier, but we got out. The weight of that fact is heavy on my soul.
Rhys releases his family and extends his hand to me, pulling me closer. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he says before introducing each of his friends - all names that I’ve heard before. People that I never expected to meet in person. “Y/N helped keep me sane Under the Mountain. She’ll be staying in Velaris for the foreseeable future.”
Amren steps forward, observing me. I take a step back as her power overwhelms me. She is not from this world.
“What are you?” I ask softly.
“I was going to ask you the same question, girl.” Amren tilts her head to the side as if studying me. “You’re not of this realm, not entirely.”
Rhys cuts in, “Amarantha was using Y/N for her abilities. She can communicate with the dead.”
Cassian pales beside me, his face contorted in shock. “Cauldron boil me, you can - talk to ghosts?” He shudders.
“The living scare me more than the dead ever did,” I reply.
“Isn’t that the truth,” Mor quips before pulling out a bottle of wine and enough glasses for everyone, seemingly plucked from the air. “Settle in, you’ve got 50 years of gossip to catch up on,” she grins.
‘Is there somewhere I can go while you catch up with your family?’ I ask Rhys down our bond.
His concern ripples back in response. ‘You’re family now too, but I understand if you need some space.’
Rhys smiles at his cousin, “We’ve waited 50 years, I think we can wait a few more minutes while we get settled. Y/N, I’ll show you your room.”
I smile and nod as Rhys takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. He squeezes firmly, the way we always do.
“There’s a few empty bedrooms up here, you can take whichever you like - that one–” he points to the door at the end of the hall– “overlooks the garden.”
“Thank you, for everything.” I pull him into a tight hug and he kisses me on the top of my head.
“Go on, tell me if you need anything,” he taps on his temple.
I nod, “You go on, your family are waiting.”
————
Rhys was right. The view of the garden was a nice change after being stuck under the mountain for the last 10 years.
I’ve bathed, but even after scrubbing myself raw, I can’t quite shake the dirty feeling. My skin is red and angry, but I find a lotion in the bathroom that helps soothe it. The lavender scent fills my nostrils.
We got out.
I dress and decide to go downstairs. I feel restless inside and don’t want to be alone with my thoughts any longer.
Rhys looks up as I descend the stairs and he smiles widely at me. “There she is. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah…” I look at the door, and the coloured light streaming through the stained glass panel. “Can I?”
“Of course,” Rhys nods. ‘We’re free,’ he says down the bond. ‘You can go wherever you wish.’
I walk towards the door, hesitating at the threshold before finally stepping into the sunlight.
I pause, feeling the warmth on my skin, a sensation I never thought I’d feel again. In the distance, children are playing and I can hear people talking and laughing as they go about their days.
I shut my eyes, letting the sounds of the city fill my head, enjoying the peace that the chatter brings.
We made it.
“I can’t quite believe it myself,” Rhys says from beside me.
I open my eyes, turning to look up at him.
“We got out,” he says. “It felt so hopeless at the end there.”
“I thought I was going to die Under the Mountain,” I confess quietly. “That she’d tire of my party tricks and amuse herself by torturing me. I would’ve welcomed it. An end.”
Rhys turns to look back at the house, at his family through the glass panes, “No one else understands.”
I take his hand in mine, squeezing it tightly. “Our bargain still stands.”
Rhys squeezes my hand back. “Always. Now I’d really like for you to show off your party trick for Cassian. If you’re up to it.” Rhys smirks and I raise a brow. “He’s creeped out by anything that’s not tangible. If you can pretend some spirit is angry with him, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“Oh I see, you brought me here to be your jester.” I give Rhys a playful shove with my shoulder. “Come on, let’s do it. You can feed me intel so it’s extra convincing.”
“Oh, you’re evil,” he chuckles darkly. Rhys holds the door open for me, and we step inside his home together.
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OKAY HERE ARE SOME SAM THOUGHTS BEFORE I CLEAN MY ROOM (some platonic but mostly romantic)
loves getting his hair played with (romantically and platonically)
main love language is quality time
could have this giant on his knees if you compliment constantly (his looks or his personality) (mainly his personality) (he knows and is aware of how conventionally attractive he is but isn’t cocky about it) (like another winchester LOL)
runs warmer than the average human being so he’s your personal heater in the winter
but in the summer you make sure he stays far away from you bc man sweats A LOT in his sleep 😭😭
I HAVE MORE BUT I GOTTA CLEAN MY ROOM
ILL BE BACK LATER WITH DEAN AND MORE SAM 🤭🤭
djhJHFSKDJ SAMMMMM AAA okay okay bear with me while i go absolutely insane LMAO. like this is long LOL so i am gonna add a cw for anyone who stumbles upon our time of feeding each others delusions <3 i got carried away ahahahaha hehehehehe i'm normal about him tho!
wc: 1.6K. cw: kissing, a bit of swearing, brief mention of things trying to kill you bc that's the life lol, unedited
⟢ playing with his hair : do NOT get me started on sam's hair <3 it's always so pretty, and you have to make that known! sure, you do it out loud, but we'll get to the complimenting in a bit hehe. your favorite way of making it known (and definitely his) is by playing with it. constantly. and he can never get enough. sure, he gets embarrassed or picky about it around dean, like he does with just about anything romantic or sweet (mostly because dean won't ever let that sort of thing go un-teased). but he just loves so much to lay his head in your lap and let you thread your fingers through that pretty brown hair <33 it makes him feel so relaxed, and cared for in a way that doesn't feel overbearing or overly obvious.
and he loves it especially it because he knows that you do. he can feel you physically relax from under him when you sweetly run your hands through his hair, gently pulling apart any small knots and taking your time to take care of that gorgeous head of hair. he will also certainly melt and try to hide the pink tint to his cheeks when you reach for his hair unexpectedly, like when you lean in to fix a fly-away strand or full on card your hands through his hair when he's in the middle of research and didn't notice you approach.
also!! put your hands in his hair when he's kissing you!!! please!!! he's begging on his knees!!! god, he loves that so so much and he gets a secret ego boost because, once again, he can physically feel how much you love it too. he'll always kiss you harder when your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.
gets embarrassed if you put little braids in his hair, especially as he grows older and it grows longer, but he can't resist how much it makes you smile, so he lets you get away with it if dean isn't around. and just imagine putting pretty clips in his hair LOL he pouts and asks you to take them out immediately, but not before kissing the smug grin off of your lips. will die and try his hardest to delete them if you ever get pictures of him like that, but you keep your blackmail well protected hehe.
as for platonically, that is facts! he thinks its very sweet if you're his best friend or sibling! it's not as big a thing as it would be in a romantic relationship, but he'll love to have his hair played with by anyone willing <33
⟢ love language; quality time : this is like almost sad and especially sweet at the same time because the poor boy has no time to spend much quality time with you. but again, this kind of makes this whole thing sweeter because that means each moment is just that much more precious. obviously, he'd love to be spending quality time with you by going on dates in the park, taking you to a nice restaurant that's not too stuffy, or something even as simple as taking you to the movies. but those things are hard to do, so to him, any time spent with you without the presence of something trying to kill you can be turned into that precious quality time.
for him, it's about sitting on the couch with your legs strewn over him or his head on your lap or yours on his shoulder (really any sort of thing keeping him connected to you) as you pour over lore books. it's about the seamless exchange when the two of you figure out how to kill your monster or save the world together. it's about posing as fbi to get answers and slipping his hand into yours when no one's looking or grabbing a decent breakfast together before the start of a busy day. all he cares about, the things he treasures, are you falling asleep on him in the back of the impala because he gave up shotgun to sit next to you, taking months, maybe longer to get through one season of a tv show together, and always taking even just a small moment out of a busy day to be together.
⟢ complimenting him : it's true that he needs less assurance about his looks because he certainly is aware that he is fine as fuck. but let's definitely establish that he adores to hear praise about his looks specifically from you because duh! he's in love with you and you're the only one he cares about!!
but yeah, when you compliment his personality, his sweet, loving, courageous hot sometimes completely idiotic and frustrating self?? oh he's done for. he's honestly far less used to that. when you're half asleep, and you murmur into his chest that you think he's so smart, kind, funny, loving, and brave and that you couldn't be more proud to be his? he's complete mush in your arms, he can't believe it.
"that's all you, baby," he'll refute, and you'll certainly grow bashful under his compliment, but you want him to accept it, at least a little bit. "i mean it, sammy, i really do." your voice is all soft and sleepy, and oh so earnest that he can't help the aching of his heart. "i know you do," he'll whisper, suddenly emotional and not wanting you to hear it. "i'm just glad you think so. i'll always do my best to be those things for you," and that's the kind of thing he only admits when the sole light in the room comes from a dim, clouded over moon and your head is tucked under his chin so you can't see his face. he means it, of course, but he's not used to such vulnerability and blatant adoration.
he'll clench his jaw when you tell him you know that, but that it's true that he's all those things and more for so many people, the few close ones, and all the ones he passes by and does his best to save. he doesn't fully believe you, he's got a lot of guilt built up in that sweet mind of his. and it's true he's not perfect, but you never said that. all you're trying to tell him is that you love who he is, so much, and he can never thank you enough for that.
bonus, he really really loves when you tell him you think he's funny. it's definitely an ego booster, plus he loves loves loves to know that he can always make you smile and laugh.
⟢ your personal heater : this is literally sooo true. he's so big with so much body mass that he'd have so much body heat to give off. but i so agree that on top of that, he'd also totally be on the warmer side. if you're naturally warm as well, then you two are an unstoppable force in the winter time (the both of you are lulled to sleep by the other's body heat in a matter of minutes). either way, he'll always envelope you in hugs when it gets cold because he knows it'll warm you up right away. he doesn't have to ask to know when you're cold, because you'll always press yourself to him, maybe grabbing his arm and pulling it around yourself before even saying a thing to him.
"you cold?" he'll ask sweetly, and after feeling your nod and hearing your muffled "mhmm," he's quick to wrap his other arm around you too and pull you closer.
for the folks with cold hands like me, he's always trying to warm them up with his own. whether you've slipped your hand in to his just to be near and they're particularly chilly, or he can see you trying to warm your hands up yourself, he's quick to take up both of your hands in his to warm them up. when he grabs up both of your hands, he'll pull them to his chest and hold them there until he's satisfied they're warm. he'll look into your eyes and talk about something completely unrelated, all casual as if he's not making you flustered. other times, he'll warm up one hand at a time, encasing it in both of his own, rubbing it and blowing warm air on it before gently slipping it into his warm, warm pockets and moving on to the other.
also, if he finds out your face is cold, he'll cup your cheeks with his large, furnace hands or full on just pull your face into his head or neck to warm you up that way.
but yeah😭😭 summer can be a lot less pleasant. if you manage to have cold hands even in the summer (i could never i wish), he'll try to steal the coolness from your hands and you'll be like oh my god please stop i'll die LOL.
and you're like nooo babe of course i want to sleep with you, you just have to stay as far away as possible and never touch me because it might burn me to death. if he's tired and touch-starved younger sam will pout at you and tell you he just wants to cuddle. later seasons sam just won't take no for an answer and will just pull you to him until he gets too hot himself lmao. he'll make sure there's a fan on you first and a glass of ice water on your bedside. basically he loves that he's warm in the winter because it brings you closer to him, then gets pissed about it in the summer because you don't want him too close unless there's sufficient a/c or some other form of ventilation to make it cooler lol.
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Lovesick Alastor Headcanon
Alastor X Reader
Warnings ⚠
⚠ deer man is possessive/obsessive over you, hides it somewhat, very yandere coded but doesn't force you to do anything you don't like, suggestive/implied, hint at cannibalism, blood, ☺🔪 ⚠
This goes for almost all versions of the Reader. Child reader/platonic relationships excluded.
He's had his eye on you for a while now. Of course you didn't know since he always kept his composure.
You were a jewel among rocks to him.
Will do anything to make you fall in love with him. Not make but persuade.
Uses Vox as a dummy whenever he can to make himself look good.
Waits for you to approach him.
And when you do he's the happiest demon in Hell.
He likes when you wear red. Especially if you are covered in blood.
Its not yours, no. He'd never let that happen.
Literally crazy about you.
He doesn't do PDA but behind closed doors is a different story.
Alastor is a gentleman! He won't do anything unless you ask him to. Kisses, cuddles, hand holding, biting-
*cough*
Depending on what you like of course.
Only spills your blood with your permission. Fully consensual.
Likes holding you close or having you nearby. It calms him down when he's upset or too peppy.
When you are at the hotel, he likes whisking you away to his office for kisses.
Buys you jewelry, food, clothes. A lot of gifts that are in his colors. Maybe one thing you'll wear everyday with a microphone on it.
Everyone knows to STAY AWAY.
Of course Vox is an idiot and tries to woo you but fails miserably.
"You know how much I adore you my dearest.", Alastor caresses your face. "Jusqu'à la fin des temps ou jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus que nous." (Until the end of time, or until it's just us.)
Makes sure you're content and well taken care of.
Of course there are times when he does too much and you get upset.
"Alastor, please let me do this for myself.", you'll say with a pout.
"Forgive me my darling.", he kisses the top of your head. "You know I like taking care of you, but as you wish."
He shows off his demon form because he knows you like it.
Teases you about it later in your shared hotel room, until you're hiding your blushing face.
"I thought you liked my radio dial eyes?", he leans closer, purposefully turning them into radio dials. "₩as ¡ wr¤Ω&?", he asks, static more noticeable in his voice.
"D-don't!", you'll stutter and shiver, peeking through your fingers.
His smile widens and he'll continue transforming. "What's the matter my love?", he chuckles as he looms over you. "Trouble holding back?"
Falls in love all over again when you get pissed at someone.
Watches as you tear up said demon and cheers for you. "Save me a piece or two darling!"
Man worships and adores you.
No one will ever see you make the Radio Demon blush, but you don't mind. That's only for you to see.
He's yours after all.
Thank you to @the-friend-lol for making me the gif.
~Seline, the person.
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ML for Alastor🎙
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