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the0doreslover · 5 months

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My friend | theo nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: short sorry, fluff, poor baby enzo

summary: this amazing ask right here

"Mr. Berkshire and Miss L/n," Professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom. You halted your quill's progress on your parchment and turned your attention toward the back, where Lorenzo Berkshire sat engaged in conversation with Theodore Nott.

"Good luck," Hermione snickered

"Yeah, thanks, Mione," you sighed, observing Lorenzo, who seemed content to stay put. With a sigh, you gathered your belongings and maneuvered your way over to him.

"Look, she's obedient, Enzo," Theodore laughed, shooting you a sly look.

"Very funny. Let's just get this over with, yeah?" you retorted.

That was three weeks ago. In the time that followed, your friendship with Lorenzo deepened into something unexpected. Together, you not only successfully completed the assigned project, earning an impressive grade, but Lorenzo had also become a helpful study companion for your upcoming potions assignment. His willingness to help and his genuine sweetness had endeared him to you, turning him into more than just a classmate.

As the days turned into weeks, your friendship continued to flourish. Studying together became a ritual, and the laughter you shared transcended the walls of Hogwarts. Yet, amidst this newfound friendship, there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn't ignore

Theodore Nott's grumpy demeanor. God It was as if he wanted to murder you

He saw you with enzo? his eyes rolled

Enzo wanted you to eat with them? His eyes rolled

You wanted to study with enzo? His eyes rolled

You had made a joke to enzo that one day that his eyes are going to get stuck there, but unfortunately for you he had come to give enzo his study book and heard you, but what did he do? he rolled his eyes.

To be fair to him, you weren’t any better

Enzo had to go practise with theodore? you’d sigh

Enzo wanted theodore to study with you? you’d sigh

Enzo had to go back to his dorm to see theo? you’d sigh

Poor enzo couldn’t keep up with you both, he felt like he was going mad. So what did he do? He went to blaise.

“Wow that’s alot man” blaise nodded before getting a whack from pansy.

“No enzo listen to me, they both just need to get to know each other, the only thing they think they ahve in common is you, so if we remove you maybe they’ll find something they actually like about each other” pansy explained

“Or maybe they just both have serious crushes on each other” draco piped in finally lifting his head from his book.

“go back to your book draco”

Enzo had told you to meet him in his dorm to study, which you found a bit weird but then again, enzos a weird guy. you knocked once but he didn’t answer, so you knocked again a bit louder.

“Finally you took your tim- oh it’s you” theodore nott stood infront of you his eyes raking up and down your body.

you pushed past him “where’s enzo?”

“No you’ve got it wrong princess, i’m hanging out with enzo today” he walked closer to you

“No theodore, he told me to meet him here”

he was just about to say something when you both heard the door latch shut

“You’re not coming out until you become friends, i can’t take this anymore”

“Enzo!” you shouted through the door “Enzo please open the door”

“When you become friends!”

you pressed your ear against the door and heard a few other voices

“enzo this is not what i meant at all”

“how do i get into my room?”

“This is your fault princess” you turned around and saw theodore on his bed watching you

“my fault? maybe if you didn’t make me feel like you’ve hated me this wouldn’t of happened”

Theodore was caught off guard by your response "Maybe if you weren't always stealing Enzo's attention, he could've been here to hang out with me."

His words hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension between you two. You were definitely not expecting such a direct accusation. Theodore, on the other hand, immediately regretted his choice of words as he saw the impact they had on you.

Before you could respond, he sighed and muttered, "I didn't mean it like that."

Fed up, you sighed. “what’s your deal? We can’t keep up like this, for enzo, the poor guy looks like he’s aging for gods sake.”

He hesitated, before choosing to stay silent

Your eyes narrowed. “maybe if you weren’t such a sour git, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Theodore shot you a glare“Maybe if you weren’t always acting like you own the place, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

The argument escalated, each insult flying like sparks from a misfiring spell. The dorm now echoed with your bickering. It was like a full-on wizard duel, but with words instead of wands.

“Merlin’s beard, Theo, can’t you just chill for once?” you snapped.

“Chill? Maybe you should lower your ego!” Theodore shot back.

“me lower my ego! theodore you’re a teenager acting like a toddler

The back-and-forth continued, like a never-ending Quidditch match of insults. But then, in the midst of the verbal chaos, something shifted. There was a moment, a beat where you both just stopped, realizing how ridiculous the argument had become.

Theodore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is stupid. Why are we even fighting?”

You rolled your eyes. “Beats me, Theo. Maybe you just enjoy being a prat.”

He smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And maybe you just enjoy being a know-it-all.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, the tension dissipating like a deflating balloon. Then, in a twist of events, Theodore did something unexpected. He closed the distance between you, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours.

It was like a jinx had hit you, leaving you momentarily stunned. The argument was forgotten as he brung you impossibly closer to him

And when he pulled away, there was a smirk on his face. “Well, that shut you up.”

You blinked, still processing what just happened. “What the hell, Theo?”

He chuckled, the tension between you replaced by an awkward sort of understanding. “I figured we needed a different kind of distraction.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re mental, you know that?”

Theodore grinned. “Maybe. But at least we’re not fighting anymore.”

“Hm, i guess your right”

“is it safe to come in now!” enzo shouted wailed

“No enzo she just stabbed me in the gut”

you watched as the door slowly opened and enzo came in along with blaise pansy and draco.

“can i just say that i was right?” draco smirked taking a bite of his apple

#harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #x reader #slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy

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tunafruitt · 4 months

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--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight crack, reader gets called a test subject and is implied to be used as one [Dottore’s part] OOC w/ Dottore..? Idk I haven’t finished sumeru yet </3

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): DOTTORE, XIAO

-> [ DOTTORE ]

“The Doctor is the Creator’s suitor? As in… the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Are you sure that’s him? You are? Oh.. is— Is Your Grace feeling okay? I don’t see why anyone would be willingly involved with the Fatui Harbingers. What?! No! I’m not saying that’s not okay. Your Grace can do whatever they want! Hmph..”

The people of Teyvat felt conflicted to say the least. They weren’t judging your ability to make choices! They really weren’t… they just thought that there were better choices out there for Their Grace!! Yeah, everyone knew you liked the harbingers even before you descended, but couldn’t you have chosen a less deranged harbinger? For example… uhm... none of them.

Dottore could really care less what everyone else thought of his relationship with you though. He got the full package! His lover was the All Mighty Creator, and now he has a new “test subject”! (he says it affectionately.) Dottore knows people hate him even more than before, but who’s the one with the Creator’s arms wrapped around them, head over heels? This benefits him in so many ways. Wether it be research, obtaining materials, or just being able to have something more to use against the rest of the harbingers.

No one would ever dare voice the opinions they have of him while you’re in the vicinity. They’ll listen to you talk about a “date” you had with Dottore, which was really just you and him in his lab…. and he’s using you to help with his research. Hearing this, the rest of the allogene’s eyes are twitching, their fists are clenched, they’re FURIOUS. Not at you! Never. They’re mad at Dottore. How dare he use you as a test subject?! (you volunteered) How dare he use you to try to make another god?! (you thought that sounded fun) How dare he be IN LOVE with the All Mighty Creator?! (you fell first.)

When the two of you are seen in public, the streets go QUIET. Dottore carries this eerie aura with him, everyone knows who he is. And adding to the fact he’s a harbinger, he is also now recognized as the Creator’s suitor. Everyone besides you feels the silence and the stares, including Dottore, but if his lover is happy does it really matter? <3

In conclusion, everyone hopes Dottore dies. It’s not that they don’t want to see you happy. In fact, the entirety of Teyvat is glad you’re experiencing love and joy, just not with HIM.

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

You spend a lot of days in Dottore’s lab. Today was one of those days.

You were conversing with one of Dottore’s younger clones. The clones, while being segments of Dottore, have their own distinct personalities. The one thing they hold in common is the love they have for you.

You love talking to the clones and giving them breaks from whatever days-long tasks Dottore gives them, but you miss the Dottore who’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep and after you wake up. You haven’t seen him since yesterday! Is this really how your boyfriend treats his lover…. who also happens to be the Creator???

And so you decide to go look for him. Who would’ve guessed he was sitting where he always was; his desk. Once you’ve spotted him, as payback for leaving you alone, you decide to sneak up on him. You try your hardest to silence your steps as much as possible in this hollow and echoey office of his.

“I can hear you, Y/N.”

“No you can’t... C’mon Dottore! Cut me some slack. I haven’t seen you since yesterday… and you didn’t even come to say good morning to me today!”

“Good morning.”

“It’s 4:00 PM, love. Take a break. It’s not like I’ll die anytime soon… can I even die..? Uhm.. that’s besides the point. You can conduct your experiments on me and do you research later. Come entertain me, please?”

“Are you asking because I have a choice?”

Your silence gives him an answer. You pull him up from his chair by grabbing his hands and pull him into a hug. You lean in closer to peck his cheek. He leans into you and grabs you by the waist to pull you closer—

“Doctor, the segments have finished—“

“Oh.”

-> [ XIAO ]

“Oh! One of the adepti? THE VIGILANT YAKSHA?! S-sorry that caught me by surprise… So the Yaksha is dating the Creator, huh. His tales have been documented for millennia’s, yet he’s rarely seen in public… I guess even someone like that can’t help but fall for Our Grace.”

So that must be why you always cooked Almond Tofu… Well, since Xiao IS the Conqueror of Demons, I can see the people of Liyue being quite happy. Jealous? Yes. But who’s even more jealous? Mondstadt. Why couldn’t it be one of the Knights of Favonious or something? But they guess you’re happy and that’s enough… (Though it could’ve been with them.)

Xiao is seen a little more often with you now that it’s confirmed you two are dating. Not too often, but if you want to go try out a restaurant in the city of Liyue, he’ll never say no. He may not speak much, but according to rumors is Liyue… “his eyes are always on you, listening to anything and everything the Creator has to say. It’s clear he’s fallen completely in love!” (Said by Chef Mao, probably.)

Being Xiao’s partner may seem awkward from an outsiders perspective, but he’s surprisingly sweet! He still won’t talk much, but he’ll reply to any questions you have, no matter how stupid or obvious they are with full genuity. Him being the Conqueror of Demons and you being the Creator, you both live busy lives…. so his eyes literally light up when you two are both able to finally see each other after a long time. <3 (he’s head over heels guys help.)

The adepti would be so PROUD. They probably already knew you and Xiao had a little something going on even before it was announced because of the way Xiao seemed slightly more happy. This lead to then being suspicious and eventually seeing him and you together… doing the most intimate thing ever…..

…. HOLDING HANDS. UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. But they kept quiet so don’t worry!

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

“Xiao! I found you.”

As per usual, Xiao was sitting on the roof of Wangshu Inn. Today was one of the days where both of you were busy. You had a meeting to attend, and he was doing his job as The Conqueror of Demons. It was night by the time you were able to see each other.

“You should’ve called my name, Your Grace. It would’ve been easier for me to find you.”

“Yeah but I like looking for you. I always know where you are since you’re in the same spots anyway. And besides, I like how Wangshu Inn looks at night!”

You always thought Xiao looked pretty, but he looked especially pretty under the moonlight. His face seemed to glow more than usual today. Maybe it was the warm colored light radiating from inside of Wangshu Inn, or the light reflected by the moon shining down on him. Maybe it was the fact he had missed you so much that seeing your face again brought him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh, sorry Xiao, I lost my train of thought. Let’s go eat! I’m feeling hungry… today’s meeting was waaayy too long… C’mon, I’ll buy you something!”

“No need. I’ll be okay with just accompanying Your Grace.”

“Agh, stop calling me that. Y/N? Can you say Y/N? Please Xiao?”

“… Y-Y/N..”

“See? Not too hard right? Ok let’s go eat! I’ll make you Almond Tofu how you like it.”

FINALLY DONE OOHMYGODDD sorry this took so long. Idk what I should do next so feel free to request anything… ANYWAYS THE FIRST PART OF THIS GOT ALMOST 700 NOTES??? omg stop guys I’m giggling and blushing aughshsgghh. But seriously thank you so much I’m bawling

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin xiao #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #dottore #genshin harbingers #genshin #gender neutral reader #yayyy #tunafruitt #xiao x reader #dottore x reader #genshin sagau

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hazelfoureyes · 1 month

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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone.

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care.

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?”

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.”

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.”

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now?

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel.

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.”

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest.

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it.

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven.

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense.

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high.

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk, and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.”

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?”

“I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth.

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left.

That was easy. Wow.

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would. But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not.

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows.

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable.

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded.

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home.

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control.

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip.

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest.

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt.

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect.

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls.

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear.

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you.

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You��re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure.

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell.

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat.

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm.

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit!

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions.

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all.

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way. His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features.

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically.

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless.

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious.

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly.

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing.

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that.

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing.

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #smut

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Note

Very curious about the aftermath of darling having to explain why they lied about taking the suppressants— would they refuse to say anything? Or during their heat would Simon & Johnny contact their doctor for something— maybe if darlings fever was higher than it should be— and found out a bit what happened to them when they were younger because they’re their medical proxy.

🖤

Takes place after this / thank you to @ghostlythunderbird for her help!

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / cock warming / mature themes

Simon leans over the tub, fingers swirling through the extremely hot water while you whimper and gasp against Johnny’s chest, mouth half open, nearly asleep astride his lap.

“Alpha.” You whine when he shifts, face burrowed against his skin.

“I’ve got ye, darling. I’m here.” He smoothes a hand up and down your back, soothing you, all while trying not to grit his teeth too loud.

He’s teetering on the edge, cock hard again inside your body, recovered from earlier when he finally took you as Simon soaped you clean.

Simon spreads his fingers across the the small of your back, dripping water droplets up your spine before twisting a bunch of your hair into a clip to keep it from getting wet. You’d be mad if you weren’t out of your mind in a heat haze, and your hair got wet outside of a wash day.

“Johnny.” You whimper, and the Alpha’s hand disappears beneath the water in response, patting your hip and pressing his lips to gland to settle you.

Simon really wants to pluck you from the tub and spread you to wide on the bathroom floor. He wants to spread towels out to prevent your skin from being chilled and then lay you on your back, wants to fuck his come deep into your womb until you’re gushing with it, until it takes. It’s the same way Johnny felt, when you were sitting on his lap, bouncing with your desperation, crying in need for him to fill you.

If he was in a rut, no one would have even made it to the bathroom. He would have already bred you, already fucked you full of his seed and plugged it.

But he’s not. And he’s not the one in the tub right now either, so he has to attend to the other things. Just as important, not as much fun.

“A-alpha please.” You gasp, eyes wide and teary and Johnny nods, pressing a thumb against your bottom lip, and starting back up a deep, harmonic purr in hopes of getting you back to sleep.

“I know, I know.” He coos.

Simon bends, swallowing Johnny’s lips, kissing him lazily, indulging in his pants and gasps as you tighten around him. You push at Simon’s shoulder, face screwed up in irritation, and he chuckles softly before kissing you sweetly, long and deep until you’re whining for him to get in the tub behind you.

Now that they’ve started, you’ll only stop for food and rest, and getting you to eat and drink will be a challenge in itself. Everything is shifting, your unease, distress has faded away to your instincts, your drive to be bred by them, and they’ll spend the rest of your heat giving you everything you need, soothing you and praising you, comforting you and making you feel safe, satisfying and taking care of you. They’ll flood you with their DNA, their hormones, their pheromones, completing the cycle over and over until it passes.

Simon relishes it. He loves caring for you with or without your designation, loves the idea of growing their family, of him or Johnny fucking you full of themselves until you’re swelling with their baby. It’s instinct, and primal, but so, so much more with you. You’re not just some Omega… you’re theirs. Their darling. You’ve always been theirs.

Which is why he can’t stay in the bathroom, even though he dearly wants to.

Your fingers latch onto his forearm when he pulls away, and he folds you farther into Johnny, until his mouth is above your gland and he’s licking, distracting you enough for Simon to slip away.

“Her last prescription was written six months ago, but it was a lower dosage, preparing for the weaning off time frame.” The kitchen knife slows to a stop in the middle of the apple he’s cutting, and he places it down to hold the phone firmly in his hand.

“Sorry, you said… six months?” His heart thunders in his ears. Six months? Half a year? He struggles to get a handle on the ache in his soul when he thinks about you struggling for so long, without them even knowing.

The doctor sighs.

“She was advised to inform you, to see if your work schedules could be adjusted for her heats. After being on suppressants for so long, they were anticipated to be more intense, more debilitating.”

“I- I don’t understand. Why did she come off the suppressants?”

“The long term use of suppressants have had negative impacts on her body… did she not tell you?” His stomach twists.

“No, she… failed to mention. We came home to her in the beginning of a heat but, she wasn’t herself. She was self soothing, we’re very concerned.”

“As you’re aware, yourself and Mr. MacTavish are listed as medical proxy… I can email an encrypted chart with her medical information if you’d like.” He grimaces. You’re going to be so pissed, so bloody heated when you come out of this and realize they’ve trampled all over your boundaries in this way but what else can he do?

“Alright, that will work fine.”

He reads the file alone. He doesn’t think it appropriate, to read it with Johnny while you’re practically attached to him, even though that makes him feel guilty too.

But he can’t run the risk of upsetting you, not when they finally got you settled and comfortable.

So, he opens it on the couch. It’s a massive file, as he expects most Omega’s are, considering their unique genetic needs, complicated endocrine systems and of course, reproductive health needs.

He finds the chart notes from your appointment, six months ago.

“-advised pt that stopping suppressants should be considered due to impact in pheromone production and reproductive health. Advised pt that continued long term use may have permanent effects. Pt stated she understood, agreed to start next month with a lower dosage to wean off.”

He scrolls, to a visit from last year. It’s fairly standard, mentions of blood work and labs, appropriate levels and other medical jargon, but something sticks out.

“-pt inquired if it was possible to successfully bite and bond without a heat. Informed pt it was not advised.”

Why were you asking about bites? You’d never expressed interest in that to them before… you had always told them you were happy the way things were. That you didn’t need a bond to be theirs, just like you didn’t need a heat. He’s still frowning when a note from your visit three years ago jars him.

“-pt advised she feels she’s in a safe, healthy relationship, and would consider coming off suppressants. Previous feral state symptoms have seemed to completely dissipate. Pt seems happy and very healthy. I advised I feel it would be safe if she did come off her suppressants if she chose.”

Feral? Feral state?

“Oh, darling.” He murmurs. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He scrolls farther, eyes scanning through years and years of visits, going much farther back since they’ve known you, until he finds an intake form from a hospital, when you only 16 years old.

His heart stops in his chest.

“-female Omega brought in with the group who was rescued from the trafficking ring. Fluctuates between catatonia and feral state. No bites or bonds, gland intact. Unable to verbalize her name, or memories. Started on sedative drip until specialist arrives.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au #ghost x soap x reader

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saintsenara · 1 month

Note

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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lushaletta · 2 months

Note

I have a question??? Could you do Fred Weasley x older sister Potter reader who's he's friends with and like headcanons of their relationship please and thank you

in good hands / fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

content: mild swearing, older sister potter!reader

summary: being harry potter’s older sister is difficult. you hate watching your little brother get hurt both physically and emotionally, but fred happens to be a great protector.

a/n: MY FRED WEASLEY DEBUT!! george is my fav but fred is so arghghghgh hot. anywayyyy tysm for this request and i’m sorry i didn’t follow it to a t!! i was originally gonna do headcanons as requested but i kinda got in the zone… i do kinda like this pairing though so i may end up doing hcs eventually anyway! also my bad for this taking FOREVER i’ve been madly busy… love u folks

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Harry comes running into your room, soaked with both rain water and agitation. His broom is immediately tossed to the side and you can’t help but be concerned— you have a feeling you know what this is going to be about, and it’s not the first time.

“Harry?”

“So sick of it! I only try to help, you know? To make things better and no one ever gives a fuck! No gratitude or even kindness, after everything I’ve done.” Your face softens as he inches towards you, even being careful not to get your bed wet with his clothing.

“They’re still mad at you for losing the game? Are you serious?” You’re completely furious. Harry’s had the world on his shoulders since forever and his entire life is a tragedy. He can’t even play a school sport without being reamed for something that’s hardly his fault.

Peeling his jersey off, he crawls into your side and waits for your affection; the only thing he can count on when the world isn’t on his side.

“I tried to fix things, you know? Told Fletcher I was sorry but they’re still pissed, calling me a freak and saying all this crap about Voldemort.” You shush him and cradle his face in your arms. Your heart is breaking because how could anyone treat your baby brother like this, how could anyone see him as something less than precious?

His eyes shimmer but not with the sparkle of joy. They’re teary. “Fuck ‘em all. They’ll come around, Harry. They do eventually.”

It’s not fair what they do to him. He’ll mess something up and half the time it’s out of his control, and suddenly he’s public enemy number one. You’re usually there to help, and so are his friends like Hermione and Ron, but it can’t always be like this.

He’s okay after a while. You amp up the jokes and ruffle his hair and he’s okay. He has dinner with his group and you with yours. It’s a nice evening and all you can do is hope he’s forgetting everything wrong with the world. It seems like he is, because he’s tossing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth while Ron is laughing hysterically and Hermione is resting her hand on a judgemental expression.

“Oi, Weasley!” you say, and Fred whips his head towards you. “I’ve got something to ask. A favour.”

He perks up. You were asking him for a favour. He’s been waiting for his in since forever, but he wouldn’t let you know that. “Yeah?” he replies, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

A quick breath escapes your lips as you lean on him, lashes fluttering and a little grin settled on your face. He can look at you trying to be all persuasive without blushing. He’s stronger than this.

“How about.. you and George look after Harry? I’ve been worried about him, with the whole dementor thing. And after what happened last game, I can’t just sit from the stands and watch him get injured again knowing I didn’t do anything about it. Everyone’s pissed at him.”

Fred softens. His mind races, trying to come up with the cons of the request. He comes up empty. This was an excuse to talk to you more and, well, he already quite liked Harry, so that was no issue. And with your convincing doe eyes, how could he refuse?

He’s taking too long to respond and he knows it, but he can’t stop staring at your pretty face. You clear your throat, prodding for an answer. “Huh? Oh, yeah. The lad’s gonna be in good hands, m’lady,” he winks.

The roll of your eyes makes him smile. “Better make sure of it, Weasley.”

And to shut you up, he shoves a grape between your lips and you smack him across the arm.

From then on, Fred and George made sure no one got in Harry’s way. Someone messed with him, they messed with them. The twins were 190 and a half centimetres of beater strength and poking the bear was on no one’s to-do list, so Harry was pretty much set. Well, not entirely.

All Harry really wants to do is sit down and catch up on the pile of homework he’s missed for Chosen One duties, but some people take that as being haughty.

“Potter. You and your godforesaken hero complex. You think you’re untouchable? What’ll happen if I sock you in the face, huh? You think magic will—“

“Fuck around and find out.”

Finnick Lewis turns around. He immediately backtracks. “Hey, listen, man, I don’t want any trouble.” Fred didn’t miss the nasty glare that Lewis sent Harry on his way out. He’d take care of that one later.

The boy doesn’t really know what’s just happened or why, but he’ll take whatever he can get and he’ll be grateful for it. He mumbles out a thank you before scrambling to his room.

You’d seen Fred’s effort in protecting your brother. He’d done a damn good job at it too, because Harry hadn’t complained much about students in weeks. You’re glad you at least took that load off his shoulders.

“Tell you what, Weasley,” you say nonchalantly, unwrapping a chocolate.

He hums. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and he’s trying to finish up an essay. Lupin likes him just fine, but he’s definitely a tough grader.

“If you can make sure Harry’s perfectly uninjured after the next game, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Who cares about Lupin? Fred looks up at you instantly, suddenly feeling the velvet of the chair on his skin. “I’ll totally bite. How many seconds?”

You snort. “The kiss?” He nods. “3 seconds. 5 if I’m feeling generous.”

The essay is forgotten just like that.

The man moved the moon and sun to ensure Harry’s safety on his watch. Lewis and Fletcher had their tails between their legs after a few careful threats and actions to back them up, and Harry felt good. Safe. That’s all that mattered.

Monday arrives and the Quidditch stands are a sea of red and green with Gryffindor particularly antsy as Harry zooms around the pitch, Golden Snitch right within his view but not quite arms reach.

“Potter’s got his eye on the prize! I’ve got mine on too, Johnson looks impeccable in robes, I’ll tell you that much— Sorry, Professor.”

Fred’s holding his own, watching out for any foul play from the Slytherin Seeker whilst batting Bludgers. George is at his side, throwing them out and scoring right into Flint’s stomach.

“Wonderful play from Weasley! Not quite sure which one, but great nonetheless,” Lee says through the megaphone.

Fred’s just about to hit a Bludger into the opposing Keeper’s side, but he spots Harry in the corner of his eye being tailed by Higgs and there’s a nasty Slytherin Bludger coming right for him and he’s flying there immediately.

Harry’s so pumped with adrenaline and focus on the Snitch, he doesn’t even notice the ball coming straight to his nose. Godric knows that would leave a mark. Fred comes up and bats it away, nearly falling off his broom.

You’re watching from the stands in admiration and excitement and Fred can’t help but find you in the crowd. He sends you a wink from the pitch and a girl beside you seems to think it’s for her. You let it happen. You know who it belonged to.

Gryffindor emerges victorious, winning by two points and Harry’s crowd surfing, a big smile on his face as students chant his name. He doesn’t know how long the fame will last, but he doesn’t really care.

“You did good, Weasley,” you admit as Fred comes up beside you.

“Think I deserve my kiss now?”

In typical you fashion, you roll your eyes and pull him towards your face.

He thinks the kiss will be haste, but you melt into his lips and he does the very same. His arms snake around your waist and bring you impossibly closer and you relish in it. It’s embarrassing how much you’re grinning, but you can feel his smile too.

Catching your breath, “That was like 30 seconds. Now you gotta help Harry with his homework.”

#🎞 by.ivy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #harry potter oneshot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins

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miheartsedthings · 3 months

Text

All The Lovers in the Night

“Smells like rain.”

Billy glances from the movie he’s watching to where you’re leaning on the window sill, your nose nearly pressed against the screen.

“Hm?”

It’s cool out, early spring.

“Rain,” you say again, “C’mere.”

Graduation was months ago, and since then you and Billy spend as much time as possible together. Now, you’re at his place while his dad is away on a business trip. Susan doesn’t stand in the way of you being together, as long as you all have some idea of which friends Max is hanging out with. She’s with Lucas and the others, so you and Billy have the house to yourselves and you’ve taken up in the living room.

You’re on your knees in front of the window beside the TV, transfixed by the little green yard and the trees just beyond. All settled under graying clouds. Billy comes to stand beside you.

“Smells like…” he pauses, leaning down and closing his eyes. He’s been so at ease since his dad left. Since his ribs healed and the nightmares lessened. So much more thoughtful. More like his true self than he ever would’ve been before.

“Kinda like ocean.” He says as he looks out. He’s smiling but only with his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, taking another big inhale. “Wet dirt, and like…” another breath “the way it smells on foggy mornings, ya know?”

He nods. He sits down on the hardwood, one knee bent as he reclines on the opposite arm.

“You’re missing your movie,” you say.

His eyes are far away, looking out into the sky.

“It used to be quiet in our house when it stormed,” he says. “My grandma lived with us and she used to make me and my mom huddle up in the living room and pray until it passed. Normally, my dad bitched about everything that woman said, but…when it stormed, something came over him, too. Everything would just get mellow and we’d sit there…damn. I forgot about that.”

A cool, damp breeze rolls over you, and slowly a shush drums up from the ground as the rain starts to fall. Quietly at first, and then louder, filling the air with scattered water and the sour smell of soil. Billy loops an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses the chilled skin before returning his eyes to the window. You settle into him, closing yourself into the warmth of his arms.

“There’s so much I wish I could change about what happened to you.”

Your words feel thin. Maybe they’ll slip right out the window and be trampled by the rain. Broken through like butterfly wings.

“I know,” he says “I know what you'd do for me if you could.”

His arms tighten around you, somehow bringing you closer to his chest. You know the words are meant to be comforting, but they make you feel powerless. You sit there drowning in all the nothing you can do to fix the things he suffered with. Before you know it, you’ve sniffled, and he turns you to face him with a hand under your chin.

“Hey,” he says, his face tightening into a stern glare. “You don’t get to be mad at yourself about shit you can’t change. Remember we made that rule?” You nod, but it only makes it worse that he cares so much. “Keep being a crybaby you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

A laugh bursts out of you, regardless of your tears. He’s able to make you laugh whenever he wants, it’s like some weird superpower he has. He smiles a little and kisses you, letting his lips linger.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You can’t have more regrets than me and shit…I’m here.”

You’re flooded with more words, more sentiment than you’d ever burden one person with. It’s too much. So you kiss him again and try to telegraph it all through the dense space between your internal self and his. You try to send him healing and care. Compassion beyond description. Forgivenesses not yours to give. All of it. Everything.

For a moment, when he’s filling you, you think he feels it. By some miracle of the body and the sound of rain, he finally feels how much you love him. You’re so happy you could die.

Artist Credit: Cécile Berrubé

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #fanfic #billy stranger things #story

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cxsmicbaby · 11 months

Text

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.”

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer.

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears.

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy.

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow.

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily.

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure.

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel.

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it.

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely.

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?”

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me.

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go.

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school.

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me.

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place.

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.”

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform.

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.”

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them.

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.”

I smile. “You know I am.”

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks.

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules.

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it.

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically.

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person.

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.”

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!”

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?”

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason.

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it.

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.”

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby.

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing.

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same.

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me.

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now.

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me.

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.”

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall.

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing.

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head.

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.”

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real.

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.”

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!”

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head.

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?”

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you.

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does.

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it.

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away.

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.”

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown.

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never.

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling.

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it.

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.”

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave.

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself.

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed.

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time.

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for.

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected.

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination.

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him.

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it.

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.”

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be.

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy.

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry.

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place.

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you.

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him.

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him.

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice.

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing.

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you.

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away.

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough.

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him.

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan.

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself.

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower.

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are.

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO

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jasonsmirrorball · 8 months

Text

MARLBORO NIGHTS JASON TODD

↳ smoking jason's favourite brand of cigarettes after his death. reader is an adult. sfw, angst.

Smoke curls through the winter air, tobacco bitter on your tongue. The packet in your pocket lies heavy like stones, and you fiddle with the lighter. On, off, on, off. The flame sparks to life and is snuffed out, again and again.

You know that when you return to the warmth of your apartment it’ll be with the scent soaked into your clothes. It isn’t a foreign scent to you–the bones of an old friend, of a life long gone.

The first time you catch Jason smoking is in the tenth grade, just after your fifteenth birthday. He hides out in the stairwell by the school’s rear entrance, where the smoke alarm is notoriously faulty–and when you happen upon him, you half wonder if it isn’t because of him. You stare, jaw agape, and he turns when he hears your footsteps, relaxing at the sight of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask shrilly, panicky as though a teacher might come by and call home just on account of your being there. You don’t plan to go down with him, and you wave your hands at him to put it out. “Are you insane?”

He doesn’t listen to you. In fact, he laughs.

“Will you relax?” he sputters, coughing when he inhales accidentally. A tear slips past his lashline, and his mouth stretches in a broad grin. You stare at the path it makes down his cheek, water staining his skin. When you look back up, he’s watching you. You grimace, feeling your face warm.

“Someone could see you,” you hiss, clutching the strap of your bag. A door slams somewhere around the corner, and you startle.

“No one’s going to see me,” he soothes, and then pauses as if to think about it. “Unless you keep making a fuss. Then, they’ll definitely find us.”

You stare at him, cross. “Us? This is all you! I’m not doing anything.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles around the cancer stick. “You look pretty suspicious.”

“You’re hopeless,” you snipe, crossing your arms. “I hope you get caught.”

Smoke curls out of his mouth, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell. He tilts his head, teal eyes assessing you carefully. “Nah, you don’t.”

You flush all the way right down to your fingertips.

It becomes something of a routine, to wander through the rear hallways on your way to study hall, and linger a few paces away from Jason who almost always has his lighter in his hands and a white and orange stick in his mouth. Nobody ever says anything when you show up ten minutes after the bell, so you figure you’ve gotten off clean.

The older boy doesn’t seem to mind your company, or your questions, or your gentle reminders that the cigarettes are bad for him. He smiles around the paper cylinder at you when you screw up your face, and always laughs when a far off noise spooks you.

“Why do you do that?” you ask, leaning against the wall opposite Jason. He quirks a brow silently. “You don’t get mad, when I come bother you?”

He shrugs. “What’s there to be mad about? You’re funny.”

You furrow your brows, unsure what exactly he finds so humorous. He smiles, boyish and unaffected, taking one last drag before dropping it to the linoleum and crushing it beneath his sneaker.

“You’re not bad company,” he adds, patting you on the shoulder as he passes. Your shoulder burns for the rest of the day.

Jason kisses you for the first time a few weeks before he dies, fifteen and hiding from the hall monitor who he swears has a vendetta against him. You're too busy trying to hide to tell him that maybe there's a reason for that. You duck into an empty classroom–Gotham City High School has a surprising amount of rooms that remain unoccupied–hiding behind the frosted glass with his hand in yours. You’re crouched beneath the window, eyes wide and staring back at him.

There’s none of that fear you seem to always carry, in his eyes. Jason is always brave–sometimes reckless, but you think that requires a certain degree of bravery, still. He grins back, fingers clutching yours tightly. You hold on tighter when the footsteps echo closer, shadows spilling beneath the door.

Relax, Jason mouths at you and you glare at him. Your heart thunders in your ears.

This is your fault, you stress back at him, pointing at him with your free hand for emphasis. He only smiles, and before you know it, you’re leaning forward clumsily to press your mouth to his.

He smiles even then. One hand in yours, the other coming up to cup your face. You can taste the tobacco on him, and the brush of his hair against your temple tickles.

Two weeks later, he’s gone.

The lighter remains in your locker for the remainder of the year, where you can’t bear to touch it until the last day of school. You slip it into your pocket, fingers smoothing over the plastic casing. The JT scrawled on the bottom makes your stomach dip.

High school is long behind you now, but the weight of the lighter is familiar to you still, the turn of the metal wheel and its sparks bringing forth old ghosts. In the dead of night, you can close your eyes and pretend the drag of wind against your face is something else, that the rustle of the leaves in the street almost sound like footsteps.

“Anybody ever tell you those are bad for you?”

is this totally shit? i hope not. i've never smoked a day in my life you guys please ignore inconsistencies/inaccuracies. anyway i've been thinking a lot about first love jason and the tragedy of having that ripped away just as you get to have it. anyway, i hope this was somewhat enjoyable. please don't expect a part 2 lol.

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #x reader

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luffyvace · 4 months

Text

BSD character’s reactions to screwing up they’re first date with you ( T_T)＼(^-^ )

Includes (most) the ada and port mafia <3

they’ll be pretty short since it’s a lot of characters :P (these exclude kyoka, Q and lemon thing aka kajii)

ADA

Fukuzawa 🗡

he’s probably slightly embarrassed but knowing him I’m sure it wasn’t too bad of a screw up

in fact it was probably a minor embarrassing moment that happened

it was silence for a split second before you two changed subjects from what happened

the date went pretty smoothly after that

the typa detail that gets left out when you talk about how the date went

Ranpo 👓

he’ll probably realize what’s gonna happen to ruin the date before it does, and either act to make sure it doesn’t

or smoothly addresses it and moves on

just cuz he’s like that 😎🤷‍♀️ (LOL)

but if something he doesn’t predict happens that crashes your date he’ll be pretty butt hurt

like? How come the worlds greatest detective didn’t see through this??

🙄

you likely end up assuring him it’s fine and continue the date

he sulks and eats snacks when he gets home

your probability of still going on the next date anyway is 89% but he’s still mad that happened

Yosano🥼

she will be pretty bummed out and will starting drinking wine mid date

she may ask if you want some

she’s not sulking or anything but if like where y’all was gonna go is booked/closed you end up just going to some open public area and talking

about how this sucks, what you’ll do next date, if you can do something last minute, that you both doubt you’ll try and go there for a date again and eventually to lighter topics like your hobbies n such

but yeah the date decently recovers

kunikida🤓

YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS MAN IS UTTERLY ENRAGED

in all seriousness he’s s t r e s s i n g

he kinda panics because he planned this out so perfectly and now it’s ruined??

over course he has a back up plan down to z but it’s was supposed to go PERFECT.

(if dazai ruined it for you two he’s gonna choke him out as soon as he sees him)

eventually he stops mumbling and pacing and just takes you to plan b

which actually goes really well!

thankfully it ended in his favor but he’s still gonna spend everyday of his like repenting his first date

because you were his first date with anyone ever

and it was….spoiled. 😀

Dazai💀

you already know mr. slick bounced back immediately

like he went “oh well” and took you to do something else without batting an eye

made it just as fun as the original activity was gonna be

you’d think he had a plan b in mind but he indeed did not

he just had the money to make it look like it 😉

smooth operator 🤪😚

Tanizaki😅

apologizes like a million times

he didn’t mean to ruin it!!

especially if this is your first date too

cuz this is definitely his seeing as though Naomi won’t let him date nobody else 😃😅

(you only got away with him bc Naomi likes you /j)

you guys probably end up walking around and get some ice cream

sitting on a bench and talking

a cat came up to you two and you pet them

All in all it ended peacefully !! <3

(he sulked to Naomi but was grateful things still went alright)

naomi💗

she went “awwww” 🙁

you all likely end up in a arcade and eat some snacks too

You guys use the money you were gonna spend at the original place

it still ends up being pretty fun but you can tell she’s bummed out

you give her a kiss on the cheek at the end of the date to make her feel better 💖

(she immediately perks up)

Kenji🐄

he was kinda like “that stinks” but didn’t even seem sad about it

you two rerouted but couldn’t find anything to do

so you pretty much ended up wandering

not either of you mind, passerby we’re really kind to you and gave you free stuff

At least you didn’t leave empty handed 🤷‍♀️😋

atsushi🐯

your his first ever date- canon.

so when he realizes he (wasn’t his fault but he feels like it anyway) blew it, he’s utterly disappointed

he explains this is his first date and he wanted it to be special, even more so since it was with someone so cool like you

you hear him out, patting his back and giving him head pats to make him feel better

he even went out of his way to buy some new clothes 😞

you tell him it’s okay but he doesn’t feel that way

he asks if there’s anyway he can make it up to you and insists to buy you something before you go

he gets you something you picked out from a shop

although he’s practically hyperventilating over whether you’ll ghost him or not since he screwed it up

Mori💉

another smooth one

i doubt whatever store/place you were trying to go to was closed because he could just pay to open it back up

so it’s likely something embarrassing/awkward happened instead

HE PROBABLY TOOK ELISE AND SHE SAID SMTH 😂😂😂😂

anyway

if so he immediately corrects her then deactivates his ability……

he wanted her to come on the date so he could take her in the future and have you be used to it

clearly that talk he had about not saying private stuff went in one ear and out the other

he apologizes for whatever inconvenience happened and does what every rich man does :)

throws money at the problem :)

no fr y’all went to every shop and he bought you what you wanted from it

(Hey just the for the record I don’t condone mori’s behavior and i genuinely don’t know why the creator did that—they coulda just left that out he coulda been so much better🧍‍♀️)

Hirotsu👔

he doesn’t let little things bother him, but a date with someone that’s important to him?

and it gets ruined??

now that’s kinda disappointing

he formally apologizes and asks if there’s anything you have in mind or like to do for compensation

or maybe if it’s not that drastic he’ll just apologize and try to direct the conversation else where

he isn’t sweating it or anything but the blunder was a pain for a hot second

either way he gets through it without letting it stop the entire date as a whole

Koyo👘

is really embarrassed for 3 hot secs before she collects herself, sighing

Is blushing a bit when she asks if your upset and apologizes

she likely planned this date and told you not to worry about it because things like this wasn’t so supposed to happen

luckily for her she switched from her original idea to something else, so now that that hasn’t worked out she can go back

from there the date returns to smooth sailing

she spoils you and tries to get you forget as much as possible

she especially doesn’t want that getting on her reputation if you work at the PM as well

Chuuya🥂

really irritated and swears under his breath while facing away from you

tries to make it look like he has it under control but he’s kinda freaking out

he liked you so much he really wanted this to go well :/

In the end he can’t think of anything and ends up muttering an apologizing before suggesting to go get some wine together

gets even more embarrassed if your not a drinker

he’s mentally slapping himself at this point

you probably end up pitching in and throwing an idea out there yourself, to which your idea works and the rest of the night is really fun! ;3

he keeps mentioning how good your idea was because it totally saved him

He’s happy when he walks through the door of his place, but when he remembers he blew it he gets upset again

spends the rest of the night drinking and thinking about it hoping you still wanna date him

Higuchi🔫

she is a lover who wants to do everything for the one she loves

so finally landing a date with you and blowing it is like her whole world exploding 💥

she becomes frantic in apologizing asking how to make it up to you

even if it was just a minor thing

if she can turn things around she still feels successful but makes precautions not to let that happen again

if not she’s totally bawling her eyes out to gin about it

she does her best to get on your good side before asking for another date

Tachihara⚔️

gets a bit flustered and sheepishly looks at you to see if it bothered you

his reaction depends on yours

if you start complaining about how much of a bummer it is he’ll start to feel bad

he tries to cheer you up and suggests to move to something else

but if your calm n cool about it so is he

he kinda shrugs one shoulder and says “so what now/wanna do somethin’ else instead?”

Akutagawa🧥

*coughs*

”err..guess the place is closed. I checked yesterday and they were open so this must be a fluke..”

he probably awkwardly stands there from there

if your response is too negative he’ll apologize for wasting your time and offer to drive you home

he will likely hesitate before asking you on a date again and makes sure everything is perfect this time

”curse the weretiger” (you hear him mumble this like it’s a swear word before you close the door to your house)

If you don’t mind as much you two will probably just end up chatting somewhere

it ends with him apologizing anyway

(say you enjoyed talking with him and you might be met with wide eyes and a little blush on his face <3)

Gin☺️

blushes, stammers and apologizes like crazy

she feels really ashamed since this is your first date and something went wrong

she covers her mouth with her hand to sort of “hide” out of embarrassment

she even took off her mask and dressed up all cute for you!! :(

luckily! She brought you a gift !

you ended up really liking it and you hugged her for it, which made her feel a bit better

you ask to return the favor by buying her something too

she insists you don’t have to but you end up doing it anyway

you wrap your arm around each other’s waist while you walk which was pretty romantic :)

you kiss her atop her forehead before separating to head home

(if your not in the PM or can’t physically hand yourself—she probably follows you home from a distance, BUT NOT IN A CREEPY WAY. In a ‘she wants to know your home safe’ loving way)

she squeals when she gets home and tells ryuunosuke about the highs and lows of your date 💗

yes as I said pretty short but these were mostly a trial run for fun :)

again this is just me branching out and expirmenting ;P hopes to you enjoyed!!

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yourpsicodelicbitch · 1 year

Text

astro observations that i founded in my notes

*birth chart placements

Picture from Pinterest

taurus moon: they’re so CALM and so comforting. my histrionic energy 🤪 at first didn’t understand but just accept it. Sometimes I have the urge to smack them or shake their shoulders so they can “wake up”. They seem high, in a way they seem to accept things as how they come -but I really doubt it- (it’ll resonate more on the ones with mercury 12H at pisces degree) -I only know them for like 2 weeks-. THEY LOOK SO FUCKING COMFORTABLE OR CALM. When they’re panicking they don’t rise their voice BUT I’ve seen another taurus moon with a lot of cancer and Leo placements that’s the total opposite - I wanted to point it out bc it surprised me how tf they look so in tune with everything but at the same time their expression say otherwise-. UPDATE: she left. And that makes me wanna point out another thing. (she also has a pisces rising) —->

Pisces risings ALWAYS -idk how to bring this up- make their actions seem irresponsable or the situations they go trough are really unexpected. The other day, out of nowhere, a friend disappeared and told me she wasn’t going to stay. She didn’t specified anything. Too suden. They act or -I want to believe- their life makes them take decisions that can seem irresponsable, impulsive or egoist. I knew her for fourth weeks and then she disappeared, not specifying what was the situation. Everyone was asking me what happened and she left me the weight? the responsibility of telling everyone something I couldn’t tell (bc she told me it was a secret and I didn’t told them exactly). My ex best friend is a pisces rising and he always made decisions that affected not only him but their loved ones in a devastating way. He always passed the barrier of limits only bc he wanted and he could. He knew how much weight the situations held and even knowing that he minimized them. I’m not saying every pisces rising is like that. BC THEYRE NOT. Don’t generalize or take my observation as a way of justifying others actions. It’s complex. That’s based on what I observed, it’s completely subjective. So pls don’t take advantage of this and benefit yourself to hate on others. UPDATE: She changed careers, to major in communication to medicine. THAT’S A WHOLE CHANGE. SHE JUST TOLD ME. (with majority of air elements)

I’ve noticed that pisces risings are always questioning if they look good physically. They ask “Do I look good?” and if you say yes, they’ll be like “What do you mean that I look good? Specify. Do I look good meh or do I look good good?”

If you order an Aquarius and Capricorn prominent person, they will not do what you ordered them. They don’t like to be told what to do, to not be able to process and question that order and simply bc you’re telling them what to do, you’re demanding them. They only can do THAT -order people-, if you’re not informed 🙄

oN tHE otHeR hAnD, if you order a Sagittarius prominent person to do something, they will not do it but not bc they’re mad at you, like the case of Saturn rulers. No, they’ll not do it. They’ll joke about it and ignore it bc they don’t feel free, to not be allowed or able to choose. And the most important thing: bc they can.

The life of people with Venus 7H turns around relationships, romantic relationships? A really lovely friend I have always suffer bc he gives too much of his energy on relationships, friendship, every type/aspect. He came out of his almost 2 years relationship -he was very mature about it, also he was really broken when it happened obviously but he knew how to overcome it and im proud of him 😭-, now, time have passed but not too much -I’m not judging him. I didn’t thought about it till now, 3-2 months😟🤪😚- and he already told me he is starting to like someone and that he kissed her and I’m proud of him BUT HOW TF YOU LIKE SOMEONE SO EASILY AND START SOMETHING WITH SOMEONE IN A ROMANTIC PURE WAY. IM LITERALLY SAYING ROMANTIC BC HES REALLY LEAL, ALWAYS THINK TOO MUCH ABOUT THEIR PARTNER/LOVED ONES ETC. I FUCKING BLOCK ALL MY FEELINGS LIKE HOW DO YOU ENTER A SOMETHING SMOOTHLY WITHOUT KILLING YOURSELF THINKING THAT YOU CANT HAVE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION OR AAAAAAA

I think I know why my friend with scorpio moon don’t like my other friend with moon and mercury 12H. Scorpio always likes to control the situation, what’s happening, to know everything and to everyone to know nothing but what they want others to know -except for their loved ones?no-. 12H is synonym of “hidden”, they always hide something…-traumatic- that a scorpio may find it often uncomfortable. Why? They don’t know what’s happening easily, they know the other is hiding something. They can’t control it. They have to make an effort. They don’t like when people on purpose hide something. Scorpio moons are intuitive ASF. They don’t like your fake smile. My scorpio moon friend told me “I don’t like her. She hides something” and yes, my mercury/moon 12H friend does. She is always smiling and daydreaming, she’s not direct. She told me about her past situations that were certainly traumatic, there were a lot of changes in her life and my scorpio moon friend knows she hides THAT something.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer, I just love astrology and I’m willing to learn.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

#astro observations #astrology #pinterest #astrologia #astro notes #astro placements #astro posts #12h placements #scorpio moon #taurus moon #aquarius #capricon #pisces rising #venusian #7H placements #saggitarius #birth chart

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bagopucks · 6 months

Text

A. Matthews - Mean Words Hurt People

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): none! Just light angst.

—————————————

“Hudson just take the pills.”

“No!”

“Hudson please! They’ll help.”

“No! Go away! I can’t do it, I hate you!”

It had been an awfully stressful week. Auston and I were both feeling the irritability. With the second round knock out, I was patient. I assumed he might need time alone or with his team, and it was time I was willing to grant. What I hadn’t expected was for him to dive headfirst into the fire. I worried that we never got time to discuss it or that he never got time to cope with it, but at the same time I wondered if Auston coping was spending time planning our wedding and being a father to Auston. I always wanted to ask, but I never wanted to overstep my boundaries.

Until it came to hell week. Hudson’s allergies had been horrible. I worked overtime almost every night, and Auston was left with most of the work. It was bumpy, sure, but even if it had been myself and Hudson, I knew it still would have been bumpy. Hudson was tired and cranky, and stuffy and itchy and miserable. Auston was miserable navigating everything, trying to keep the kid happy, trying to make him take his pills, trying to find ways to entertain him. I felt horrible coming home each night, some worse than others. Some more peaceful than expected.

Some days Auston would be out cold on the couch, his clothes a mess, his hair pulled up, exhaustion laced in his furrowed brow. Other days I could hear the screaming and fussing from Hudson well before I even got up the front porch steps.

Hudson’s allergies and attitude couldn’t have come at a worse time. Halloween was around the corner and I had so many plans as to how I wanted to share it with Auston and Hudson. The last thing I wanted was for my miserable and moody kid to put those on the back burner. Especially because it was a chance to go out and have some family fun. Even if we hadn’t been the most stable of families recently.

I reminded Auston to be patient, but it was never really him that seemed ready to give up. Sure he got overworked, sure he was as miserable as Hudson, and as lost, but not once had he turned to me and told me he couldn’t do it. Until the night I came home to quite the tense scene. Auston sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Toys were everywhere, Hudson was nowhere. He looked a mess. He looked exhausted. And when he looked up at me and told me he needed a break, I couldn’t get mad. I understood. When Hudson had spells like these, I often found backup was the best way to handle it.

“Was it worse today?” I asked softly as I closed the door, assuming Hudson was asleep.

“I stopped asking myself that a while ago.”

“I’m really sorry, hun.” I sat down next to him on the couch, gentle as I rested my hand on his back.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” The tension in his voice was something foreign to me. Auston was usually so collected and relaxed.

“It’s just his allergies. He just doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so miserable, and why it won’t go away. Just give him time.”

“I really need a break.” A piece of me wanted to tell him parenthood is a full time job. But I couldn’t, because while I knew it was a full time job, I liked my vacation days. And the perfect babysitter came in the form of my mother.

“Maybe Hudson needs a few days with grandma.”

“You think?” I pulled back at the tension in his tone. “I’m sorry.” Auston was quick to apologize, running his hands through his hair and sitting back. When I finally got a good look at his face, I raised a brow. There was more than just exhaustion in his features.

“Did Hudson say something to you?”

“What?” I watched Auston’s deep brown eyes meet my own. “No.”

“Aus. Did something happen?” I quickly placed my hand on his thigh.

“No. Okay? It’s fine. I just- I’d like to go home… alone- to sleep in my bed. With my dog.”

“Okay… okay if that’s what you need. Auston, just- I’m here for you. Okay?”

Auston stood up, and I watched him walk toward the door. For reasons I didn’t understand, he was more than overworked. He didn’t seem interested in sharing, but I assumed a full night of rest would help. “Drive safe, okay?” I watched him nod as he put his shoes on, and I locked the door behind him after he left. I hoped to delve deeper into the issue when Hudson awoke in the morning.

“Hey sweetie.” I spoke from the stovetop, cooking a few eggs for Hudson to eat for breakfast. I watched the boy peek around the kitchen and dining area before he padded off into the living room. When he returned, he came to my side and hugged my leg. “Sleep well?”

“Okay.” His distant and somber tone made me sigh. Both of my boys were anything but happy. It hurt knowing I could do nothing to help either.

“We have to talk, okay?” I watched his big eyes shoot up to my own. I wondered if he already knew what was on my mind. “Go sit. I’ll bring your plate over.” And I did just that. Once I finished cooking the eggs, I put them on a small plate and grabbed a fork, carrying the items over to set them down on the table. I pulled my chair out across from Hudson. The lack of Auston at our table was oddly unsettling. We’d both grown used to his presence in the mornings.

“Auston‘s really stressed.” The mention of the man lost my son’s interest. His eyes didn’t lift from his plate. “You’re not making things easy, hun. And I understand your allergies are killing you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be difficult or mean.”

Hudson dropped his fork on his plate, looking down at his lap.

“Have you been mean?” I leaned forward slightly, listening in the silence. Listening until I heard a quiet sniff. “Hudson?”

“I didn’t mean it.” His broken tone made me raise a brow.

“Honey, what didn’t you mean?”

“Did I make him leave? I didn’t want him to leave. Is it my fault?” His questions made me shoot up from my chair to cross the table, kneeling on the floor by Hudson.

“Honey.” I spoke in a stern yet soothing tone, reaching upwards to cup his tear stained cheeks. “Hudson you could never scare Auston off. He loves you.” I cooed.

“I’m so sorry, momma… I didn’t mean it!” Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, mistakes had been made, and i finally understood the issue. An issue I never should have left Auston alone with. “I don’t really hate him… I didn’t mean it.”

“Hudson, why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it, momma.” His quiet cries turned into sobs.

“Shhh.. okay honey.” I rubbed my son’s head, my heart hurting for both Auston and Hudson. They both needed comfort I wish I could have provided sooner.

“I don’t hate him.” Hudson whispered in a broken tone.

“I bet Auston would like to know that.”

“Not if he’s mad at me.” I shook my head.

“He still loves you, honey.” I wiped his tears one last time. “You just need to apologize.”

From day one, Auston’s mind had been plagued with worries. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or what if he couldn’t be a good father? What if he wasn’t cut out for all the responsibilities, or he couldn’t be a good role model? He never actually prepared himself for the day the kid he’d worked so hard to earn the favor of, would say he hated him. Auston had been floored when Hudson screamed it across the house. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt before. It was the last thing he’d wanted. And he didn’t know how to tell me. I couldn’t blame him. Because it was a situation I didn’t actually understand. When I turned up with Hudson on his doorstep, a piece of me didn’t expect him to be home, but sure enough, Auston had opened the door just minutes after knocking. Felix stood at his feet, clearly oblivious to the situation, panting excitedly at the sight of Hudson. His best friend.

“Hey Aus.” I flashed the man a tender smile. Auston breathed a sigh that made his shoulders droop.

“Hey.. is everything okay?” Auston opened the door wider, an invite inside. I hesitantly stepped into the home, resting a hand on Auston’s hip and pressing a quick kiss to his chest.

“I came to check on you.. Hudson did too.”

“I was uh.. Felix needs to go on a walk.”

“Let me handle it.” I slid past Auston to grab the dog’s leash, calling Felix and kneeling to get him hooked up. “I’ll be back soon.”

I had faith in my boys making up. Despite the fact that Auston wasn’t Hudson’s father yet, I still knew that they had the ability to talk about their emotions and communicate well. They had never fought before… but I had faith they could apologize and move on.

“Mom,” Hudson called for me softly.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. I promise you’ll be okay.” I pressed a kiss to my son’s head before patting his back, and gently pushing him inside. “Fifteen minutes max. That’s how long I’ll be gone.” I reassured both boys before stepping out the door. Auston hesitated before shutting it behind me.

Was I worried? Sure. But again, I knew they’d be fine.

Auston shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before glancing back down the hallway. “You thirsty, bud?” He asked Hudson, the two making eye contact for the first time since their fight.

“A little.” Neither knew how to begin the conversation, so instead, Hudson and Auston walked down the hall and fetched two glasses of water, before settling in the living room on the couch.

“Your mom wants us to talk.. doesn’t she?” Auston took initiative, holding the cold glass of water between his hands.

“Yeah.” Hudson nodded, eyes examining his own water like a science experiment.

“I’m sorry your allergies have been so bad.” Auston slid a bit closer. “I know that stuff sucks. And I wish I could have been a better help.”

“Mom said we’re gonna see a doctor next week.” He paused. “She said they’re gonna give me something that should work better than the pills.”

“Hudson I was only trying to help.” Auston could barely handle dancing around the subject, so he decided to face it head on.

“I know.” Hudson’s little voice quivered.

“There’s nicer ways to treat the people trying to help you. And I understand if you had frustrations. It’s okay to have those, but there’s better way to communicate frustration than insults. Mean words hurt people.”

“I’m sorry,” Hudson whispered, peeking up at Auston, guilt in his sad features. “I don’t hate you.” The words took a huge weight off the shoulders of both boys. Auston let out a shaky sigh, and Hudson felt far less guilty than before. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.. Hudson it’s okay.” Auston set his glass of water down, reaching for Hudson, who slowly got up and climbed into his lap. Auston rubbed Hudson’s back while the boy sat with him, a mutual understanding between them that there was still love shared. Their relationship remained strong despite what had happened.

“You’re not mad?” Hudson pulled his head from Auston’s shoulder to look at the man.

“Nobody’s perfect, Hudsy. You’ll learn that as you grow up.. and you’ll make other mistakes. Just like I will. And that’s okay. It’s important that people have patience with one another… I’m not mad. I love you so much. Just do me a favor and try to communicate a little better in the future when you’re upset, okay?”

“You’ll help me.. right?”

“Absolutely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #auston matthews blurb #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #singlereaderseries #singlereaderfic #ella’s updates #ella’s inbox

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coolnameloading · 3 months

Text

Lute x Fem! Reader Part 2

Part 2 of Lute x Sinner Reader story yaaaay

Over the last few months, the hotel has been in what you can only describe as organized chaos. The hotel gained a new resident in Sir Pentious who was a spy for the Vee’s and then wasn’t or something. Charlie reassured you constantly that Pentious was not working for the Vee’s anymore and you had nothing to worry about.

But those sick fucks have been chasing you for longer than any of the other overlords so you’d rather be more safe than sorry.

After that particular event, you started to feel less safe in the hotel.

You heard Vox, he tried to infiltrate the only place where you’ve felt safe since you got to the literal hell hole and he tried to send in a fucking spy who Charlie just let walk in instantly after he had attacked the hotel twice.

Who knows what would have happened to you….all of you if Angel Dust hadn’t seen him planting those stupid cameras?

You love Charlie, she’s nice and she gave you a place to stay. Being mad at her is like being mad at a puppy but all you could keep thinking about for the rest of the month was wondering if Vox saw you.

If the Vee’s know where you are.

If they’ll come looking for you.

What they might do to you if they do catch you.

You had a close call with Velvette one time and one time was enough for the rest of your afterlife. Bitch tried to color-match your fucking fur! You’re pretty sure the only reason you got away was because she was drunk off her British ass.

Vaggie could tell right away that there was something wrong with you and tried to reassure you.

“He didn’t see you Chesh”

She whispered approaching you slowly.

“You don’t know that boss! What if he did? He could be on his way right now with the other two and he already beat the radio demon once! I need to lea-”

Vaggie cut off your rant by placing her hand on your shoulder gently and pushing you down to sit on the couch.

“Charlie and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We promised when you started staying here that we’d keep you safe and we will. You don’t need to run.”

“Thanks, boss… I’m sorry for freaking out. It just really shook me up, I guess.”

You mumbled out, blushing at how pathetic you sound.

You may not remember much about your life but you’re pretty sure you died sometime in your 20’s. Yet here you are whimpering pathetically and having to get comforted over a fucking video camera.

After that incident you became more jumpy, every sound put you on edge, and it was worse whenever you were around any form of technology that didn’t look like it was from before the 1980s.

The others tried their best to calm you down in their own ways. Angel Dust started leaving his phone in his room because you’d flinch every time he got a text or phone call from Valentino.

“Don’t make a big deal outa it, he was annoying me too.”

Husk would keep your favorite booze on standby at all times, when you’d thank him he’d simply grin at you and say,

“Us feline demons got to stick together.”

Alastor was happy to throw out any and every piece of technology that would make you tense up even slightly, which included most of Pentious’ weapons and very nearly his airship.

He obviously wasn’t doing it for you but it still felt nice.

“Don’t worry my friend! I’ll happily get rid of these infernal contraptions! I’ve always believed they lacked class anyway.”

Pentious recognized his part in your new-found anxiety and tried to gain your trust by handing his machines to Alastor with many, many, many tears.

“I am more than happy to…give up my arsenal as an apology for invading your persssssonal boundariessss.” He’d hissed out while trying to hold his tears back.

You couldn’t really be mad at him after that.

Nifty even volunteered to go out and ‘hunt phones’ for you.

You said no but that didn’t stop her from bringing you the….remains of some people’s phones.

“Sometimes I kill mother phones in front of their children as a warning to the other phones!”

“Niffty phones don’t have mothers.”

“Hehe, not anymore…”

Charlie was actually very happy to see how the others stepped in to help you and she was very proud of them even if their methods were…unorthodox.

But that lead her into a spiral. She was desperately trying to figure out why the hotel wasn’t working even though everybody showed considerable improvement.

This leads to her talking with her dad, which somehow leads to you being here in heaven.

“Um, boss why exactly am I here?”

You ask Vaggie nervously, glancing around at the pastel clouds around you. God you haven’t seen pastels in years.

Vaggie looks over at you and sighs, “Well Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to go out with the others and you wouldn’t like to stay in the hotel alone so this was the best option.”

You nod, understanding her point but on the other hand.

“And the…exorcists?”

Vaggie’s shoulders tense for a moment before she looks away from you and mumbles, “I have a feeling they won’t do anything even if we do run into them.”

You want to ask more questions but decide against it, today was stressful enough as it is without you asking stupid questions.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You whisper following behind Vaggie and Charlie as they enter the gates of heaven after another fucking song.

Is it just you? Are you the weird one? Should you be singing more often?

The three of you follow behind the two seraphim, Emily and Sera, while they give you a tour of heaven. Charlie looks completely enamored by the place but Vaggie looks annoyed, as if the pastel clouds had offended her personally.

And you…well honestly you feel a little underwhelmed.

Heaven looks like a glorified mall so far, a mall with strippers because there are way more people walking around shirtless than you thought there would be.

So you keep trailing behind Vaggie, Charlie, and the angels when you see someone who looks familiar.

She’s a cat demon like you, same color pallet and everything, except she seems much shorter and has a pair of pastel-blue angel wings coming out of her back.

You end up drifting away from the group and start following the small cat angel through the crowds.

Eventually, you get close enough to reach out and tap her but when you’re about to get her attention you feel a firm hand on your shoulder and you get pulled away roughly and pinned to one of the walls.

You’re completely disoriented for a moment and then you hear a familiar annoying voice.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

You look up to see Adam and Lute, Adam has a wide smirk on his face and Lute looks….wow.

She’s not wearing her helmet so this time you get to admire her completely.

You’d probably be happier about her pinning you to a wall if she wasn’t also holding a giant spear to your neck.

Then again…-

Yeah, it’s still pretty hot.

#fanfic #lute x reader #hazbin chaggie #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin lute #hazbin niffty #hazbin sir pentious #x reader #hazbin vaggie

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