#oh my sweet lord they killed me again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingdekarios · 4 months

Text

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #raphael smut #bg3 smut #raphael fanfic

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nohaijiachi · 7 months

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Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

Before we get into the subject matter of the title let me preface a couple of things:

1- All that will follow is, big surprise, my opinion and my interpretation of this character. Do I think I am The One And Only Who Gets The Blorbo Right and that my ideas are 100% the way the author(s) intended to convey the character? No.

More likely than not the way I see Aziraphale could be intensely different from the way Authorman sees him, or Actorman sees him, and I don't think that my interpretation is necessarily any more correct than anybody's else.

That said, if I also did not think that I am, in fact, correct on a certain level, I wouldn't have bothered forming such a thought out opinion of Aziraphale in the first place, nor would be sitting here, writing this post that I can already tell is going to be entirely too long and might probably ruffle some feathers.

So I'll be writing the rest of this post with the caveat that I while I do think my interpretation correct, I'm also not trying to change anybody's mind nor to discredit anybody's else interpretation of Aziraphale. We can sit here in the sandpit and hold different opinions and still be able to build sandcastles together, it really isn't that deep at the end of the day; I can assure you, I'm not here to fight nor cause fights with this one.

2- With the above point, comes also the fact that I won't bother continuously saying "In my opinion" for the rest of this post. You already know that. So, if something will come across as a bit caustic, do know that it is very much tongue in cheek and I am poking a bit of fun at general fannish habits that I am also very much quote-unquoute 'guilty' of having partaken into, and will partake into again plenty of times in the future, I'm sure.

So, with that: Here's Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

A large part of the people comprising this fandom prefers Crowley. There, I said it.

This fandom's preference blatantly skews toward Crowley. Can we admit that openly? Let's admit that openly.

To be clear, this isn't meant to be an accusation or recrimination or any other -ation you can think of, I am merely stating matter-of-factly a phenomena I've observed in the last four years.

It is also not a wrong nor bad thing in any way, shape or form. I adore Crowley myself. I love them both so much it's unreal.

But I started with that because I think it is very much a symptom of the fact that a lot of people don't get Aziraphale.

I remember back with S1 there had been plenty of times when I found myself reading discussions and opinion exchanges about Aziraphale and Crowley, their dynamics, all the things that went unsaid behind the things that were said, and found myself genuinely surprised by seeing how some people interpreted certain moments wildly different from how I personally saw them.

I look back at that and I think "Oh, sweet summer child". Nothing could have prepared me from the onslaught of takes about Aziraphale that make me go "Good lord, what???" in the wake of S2, and the infamous Last Fifteen.

Now because I don't want to be pointing fingers at specific things and risk upsetting somebody more than I already am by being open in admitting that, guys, yes, some of the takes y'all have been sharing make me go "Yikes(tm)", I'll move on the interesting part and what I would actually love to discuss, aka cracking Aziraphale's head open and see what that actual fuck is going on in there.

Another preface: Because this duo is intrinsically linked and woven together it is downright impossible to only focus on Aziraphale without also mentioning Crowley, so... Let me circle back to our fav demon bae for a sec, here.

I think the reason why it seems that a larger part of the fandom favors Crowley is because I feel like Crowley is a much easier character to grasp. He is very open in his thoughts and feelings, at any given moment us, the audience, have a much easier time watching a scene and sort of ruminating in the back of our heads about Crowley's motivations for saying the things he says and doing the things he does.

That isn't to say Crowley is a less complex character than Aziraphale. They are very much equally complex and multifaceted individuals with their strengths and weaknesses, their issues and the way they each cope with them, how differently they approach their existence and so on and so forth.

But whereas Crowley as a character presents itself with a certain dynamism and a far more outward openness about his complexity, Aziraphale does the exact opposite; we can say Aziraphale is downright hermetic about it.

For us, the audience, he presents a challenge that requires a good deal of thought being put into him to see over the facade he presents at a more superficial level; he requires time and effort to fully dismantle him in our minds to try and see what makes him thick (other than his thighs), and thus I think it is entirely natural that more people latch on the far easier to identify-with, and relate-to, Crowley.

And that is the inevitable consequence of everything that makes Aziraphale... Well, Aziraphale.

So, where to start? Let's try and jot down what Aziraphale truly is at his core.

He is a contradiction.

This man-shaped being is a walking contradiction, constantly existing in a state of being coated in three thousand layers of misdirection and obfuscation and double thinking.

Why is that? Well. He's an angel.

Aziraphale loves being an angel. It is a tenet of his entire existence and something he cherishes. He wants, so very much, to be his ideal of what a good angel is: An entity who is kind and loving and understanding and forgiving.

Of course us, the audience, know that is utter bullshit, because we know angels can be individuals just as complex as the humans Aziraphale loves so much, with all their inherent flaws and capability for cruelty. And, on a certain level, Aziraphale knows that too.

So there we have it, one element of contradiction: Aziraphale wants to think that angels are always Good and Righteous and Never Wrong; Aziraphale knows that angels aren't, in fact, always Good and Righteous and, by god, can they make plenty of mistakes, too.

What else? How about Aziraphale sitting there, being in love with a demon, fully knowing that at the end of the day demons really ain't that different from angels, and also desperately hanging onto the concept of Good vs Bad.

And he sits there, existing with these two contrasting idea equally taking space in his mind, neither side ever capable of taking over the other.

What else do we have? Aziraphale loves God and wants so hard to believe in Her love for humanity and Her ineffable plan, and Aziraphale also time and again does things that very blatantly go against Her will, lies to Her face, and Doubts. He Doubts, a lot, and that requires the capital letter because those Doubts are what spur him in going against everything he's ever told to believe in order to do the right thing.

Aziraphale's very existence is a constant push-and-pull of things he wants to believe and things he knows are real; things he's told to do and things he wants to do. That's how we get "My side" and "there's a bit of good in you" and "you are the bad guys".

And nothing he's lived through has managed to break him out of this unhealthy way of existing quite yet; that's why he acts the way we see him act in the Edinburgh flashback in S2, or at the start of S1 when Crowley has to ease Aziraphale into the idea of trying to stop Armageddon with the usual song and dance of "temptation" and "plausible deniability" and "you'd be thwarting me", even though from the start we can tell there's a little part of Aziraphale who is clearly not at ease with the idea of the end of the world, and once he's been given 'permission' by Crowley nudging him, he is all the way in with the whole saving the world business, not take-backsies.

Both the moments I mentioned here are very important for different reasons, but of the two is very much the Edinburgh flashback that gets a lot more flack by the fandom and is blatantly misunderstood, which I think is the inevitable consequence of that minisode immediately following the glorious, beautiful, heartbreaking piece of art that is the "A companion to owls" minisode.

I've seen a lot of people lamenting that Aziraphale acts obnoxiously in the Edinburgh flashback and, yeah. He does. But I feel like the fact that we are seeing this after watching Aziraphale struggle his way through saving Job's children, even being willing to go to Hell for it, is a though act to follow and probably soured Edinburgh-Aziraphale for a lot of people, made them think that the character had regressed instead of progressing.

But, see, the way he acts is wholly congruous with who Aziraphale is and has always been and keeps being up to the very end of S2. Yes, even after what he does for Job's children.

If you get down to it, Aziraphale had been ready to give up and let the children die, in episode 2. For a brief moment, after Crowley told him he 'longed to destroy the blameless children', Aziraphale was walking away, having tried all he thought he could try to do to stop this senseless act. That was until Crowley tested him by making the crows bleat, cuing Aziraphale to the fact that his impression of Crowley wasn't wrong, and the he could count on him to do the right thing.

To be clear, I don't want to undermine Aziraphale's action by only giving the credit to Crowley but... It is, also, only thanks to Crowley cajoling him and giving him the right excuses, that Aziraphale feels safe in doing what he's always wanted to do all along.

He'd wanted to save Job's children, and thought he couldn't until Crowley threw him that hell of a lifesaver. He wanted to save the world and thought he couldn't until Crowley nudged him on the path of plausible deniability.

He wanted to save Elspeth's eternal soul, blinding himself to the hardships she'd have to endure in her not-eternal life, and was smacked right in the face by the reality of human suffering multiple times.

The way Aziraphale acts in that flashback can't be a regression, because there never was a progression in the first place: He'd always walked the line between Heaven's and God's will and his own, personal morality and sense of justice.

By all means, if we look at Uz-Aziraphale and modern-day-Aziraphale at the start of S1, his reticence about the whole saving the world business should, by all means, appear as a regression as well. You mean to tell me that he'd been ready to become a demon for the sake of three mortal children, and then suddenly a handful of thousands years later when faced with the prospect of the whole world going up in flames he'd just be all like "Heaven will triumph over Hell and it will be all rather lovely"? Like, fuck off, Aziraphale, you lying double-thinker, you (/pos)

Aziraphale constantly exist while being at war with himself. Circumstances have allowed him to rebel the will of Heaven and God more or less safely time and again, but he never quite managed to break free entirely. He'd always ended up being reeled back in, being fed the party lines, being made to feel shame for his independent thinking, until it all becomes too much and he is forced to step back from that freedom he'd been inches away from grasping.

Back and forth, back and forth, never stopping.

And all of this, all of what he is, makes it so hard for us, the audience, to truly see him. To truly grasp him. To truly watch any given scene with him and figure out what he might be thinking or feeling.

To understand Aziraphale is to understand what he is not saying when he says something, which is a good deal harder to do than it is to understand and relate to a character like Crowley, who very much revel in saying exactly whatever the heck he thinks whenever he damn well pleases.

All those layers of obfuscation and misdirection and double thinking that Aziraphale coats himself in are as much an armor that makes it harder for the audience to understand him as they are his very own downfall because, good lord, if you exist like that, if you exist forced to keep things hidden from yourself, well... It's inevitable that at some point you are going to stumble into pitfalls of your own making.

And I love him for it.

So, there? I hope I managed to explain something with this post, and that it wasn't just the rambling of someone who spends way too much time thinking about her blorbos. To be clear, I don't think people who haven't spent as much time as me trying to dissect and better understand Aziraphale's character are like, dumber than me or anything. It's just that this pair of angelic-demonic blorbos take too much real estate in my mind, lol.

Feel free to let me know your opinion and if you think I am wildly off mark and my Take Is Bad. I might answer, I might not, it all depends on time and my mood ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

#good omens #good omens 2 #meta #aziraphale #I love one(1) hypocritical angel #flaws and all #I want to create an Aziraphale protection squad sometimes

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sixosix · 5 months

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ALL EYES ON YOU, MY MAGICIAN | LYNEY

please note that lyney and mc are 20+ in this series !! genshin hasn’t explicitly stated lyney’s age but there are a couple scenes where lyney talks about drinking— and i’m stating this now because lyney and mc drink alcohol for this chapter.

warnings drinking, kissing (kinda), hopeless pining, dialogue heavy orz, wc 3.8k

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

You and Aether once again find yourselves in an inconspicuous meeting spot, which was just a shadowy corner of Cafe Lutece, your exchanges veiled by the guise of three friends casually eating dinner. Paimon is, of course, stuffing her mouth with the array of desserts; Aether is sipping on a drink she ordered for him, brows furrowed in deep thought, and you’re still wondering why Lyney lied to your face.

After your spar with Lyney, you realized a few things. 1) He knows more than he lets on. 2) He knows that you’re onto him. 3) He could have easily called you out on it, but he didn’t. What was his goal here? Is he playing along?

Or is he hiding something bigger than what you’re trying to go after? Magicians tend to play little tricks to hide a grander one.

Aether hums thoughtfully. “Do you believe him?”

“Definitely not,” you reply swiftly—bitterly, too, because you don’t know what you’re looking for. “I feel like I’m walking straight into a trap.”

You’re a hypocrite, but you’re essentially doing this for them, so you’re better than a hypocrite, at least.

Aether frowns, contemplating. Paimon speaks up on his behalf, fork in hand, “That's strange. Paimon thought you were close! With what it looked like when we found you talking to him.”

“Why?” you demand. It was Lyney who was getting close—literally. “What does it look like to you? I mean, to me, it's as if saying the wrong thing would prompt him to kill me himself. If he wanted to."

Aether suggests, "You should check your eyes."

You huff, stubbornly taking a huge sip of your Fonta. These things taste great. Their sweetness always left you craving it even when you don’t like drinking. Paimon, because she’s an expert, sensed your newly acquired favorite and insisted that Aether buy you one.

“I feel kind of bad now. It seems that my blackmail is just getting in the way of your drama with Lyney,” Aether admits.

“We don't have drama,” you dismiss, which is instinctual by this point, “We just hated each other. He used to get on my nerves a lot—and turns out he doesn’t plan on stopping.”

Under the muted glow of the street lamps, your words trail off. Your gaze lingers on your palms. It is not obvious—you’d have to look closely, but there were scars on your palms. Most of them were from tending to plants and sharp tools, while the others were marks of burns. You wonder how Lyney noticed.

Aether calls for your name. You’re dragged back to reality when Paimon waves her tiny hands in front of your face.

“Right, sorry,” you laugh humorlessly, turning your hands back around. “Um, what should we do about Lord Tartaglia?"

Aether and Paimon share a confused glance. “Childe? What's up with Childe?”

“I told them that I'm under his faction as a cover.”

“Oh, that's no problem,” Aether assures, snorting dismissively. “Childe still owes me a lot—I'll tell him to keep his mouth shut.”

You glance around the area. There were only a few customers. A Melusine kicks her feet by the entrance as she digs in on her cake, a young man whose face is buried in his palms, and a little girl and her mother share a plate of Conch Madeleine. How sweet.

“Will that work?” you whisper, “I am trying to extract Fatui information. People usually get killed over this.”

Aether, with a sly grin, says, “Again, Childe owes me a lot. My magic word is Teucer.”

Feeling a little hopeful, you decide to look on the brighter side of things. A Harbinger and an Outlander by your side against Lyney and The Knave sounds more promising than years' worth of memorizing Fontaine Flowers’ textbook definitions and a rusty polearm.

“Is there anything you want to find out in particular?” you ask.

"Anything about my sister, really,” Aether says dejectedly. “I've traveled from Mondstadt to Fontaine, and only one Archon gave me a sliver of info. If you find anything, that’s all I ask for.”

Getting blackmailed by such an earnest brother is possibly the most troublesome way of getting blackmailed. Seeing such a longing expression on his face— archons, these idiot brothers caring too much and using it against your family-oriented soft spot.

“And you’ll leave Rosalie alone, right?”

“That’s our deal,” Aether says. “Though, I think Rosalie loves Paimon. You wouldn’t be able to get rid of us that easily.”

You separate ways after Paimon finishes her food. She politely and sweetly asks you to question Rosalie when she will make her next batch of dinner so they can come over. You tell her sure, but you hope not because Paimon, as cute as she is, would end up spilling a secret or two when her stomach is happy and satisfied.

Rosalie is probably waiting for you to get home. You hurry your steps.

Before you can reach the door, a tall, hooded figure swings it open and shoulders past you, not allowing you even a glimpse of the stranger’s face. When you turn, the figure has stopped and looked at you over their shoulder. You can't tell if you've made eye contact; the shadows dancing on their face make it too dark to discern their features.

Feeling uncomfortable, you turn back and shoulder the door open. You feel uneasy knowing that they had been inside Rosalie’s shop. Rosalie has a lot of lovesick admirers, ones that you didn’t hesitate presenting lousy customer service to to scare them away.

Rosalie is humming happily as you enter, moving pots of plants around to display by the window. She brightens when you wave at her. “Y/N! Just in time—would you mind helping me replace these with the newer batch?”

She doesn’t seem to be creeped out.

You can’t help but ask, “Was that a customer earlier?”

“Mhm,” Rosalie says absentmindedly, fixing the pot in a perfect angle that would show the blooming flowers to the streets. “Bought one of our imports from Snezhnaya—you know the ones that would have died in the next two weeks or so? Our rain is no match for Snezhnaya’s snow, but they were beautiful petals. I’m glad they could be of use, somehow.”

You hum, heaving up a heavy pot of Calla Lilies onto a vacant space. “They were.”

“I didn’t make her pay because I felt terrible knowing it wouldn’t last long, but she insisted!” Rosalie wipes sweat off her brow.

You gesture at the little Lumidouce Bell by the counter, growing taller by the day. “Are we not going to display that, too?”

“We’re displaying it there—it is not for sale,” Rosalie says. “We can’t let them think I’m selling it.”

“It’s just a flower.”

Rosalie wipes off the dirt from her fingers on her apron and pokes at your nose with her pinky. “Yes, but it’s your flower.”

You feel your face warm, flattered, and endlessly endeared. “Right.”

Rosalie smiles knowingly, rising from her knees. “Before I forget—check behind the counter, will you? A package of yours arrived today.”

“A package?” You don’t remember ordering anything. You don’t think you’ve ordered anything at all your entire life.

Everything you owned was either hand-me-downs (courtesy of the House’s previous members and now Rosalie’s collection of dresses) or little things here and there with the money you earned from working in the flower shop. They were all bought and chosen, with Rosalie doing so on your behalf, with your unwillingness to step outside when unnecessary.

“It’s tall,” Rosalie says conspiratorially, “twice the size of a guitar case! Are you practicing the double bass in secret?”

“No…?” You walk behind the counter and find the package beside the door. Rosalie wasn’t exaggerating—it’s taller than you. “Does it say who’s it from?”

“I tried looking, but it only has a cute little cat drawn on it,” Rosalie says, walking past you in a flurry of ruffled skirts.

You frown at it. A cat? You inspect the bottom of the package; sure enough, it has a little cat drawn on it, winking up at you. What the hell?

“The cat is wearing a top hat, did you see?” Rosalie asks loudly to overpower the running water.

Nevermind. You know exactly who sent you this package. The double bass in question is a spear, hence its height. It’s here already? Lyney sure works fast. To think that you never escaped the ever-generous donations of the House—even now, when you aren’t an orphan there.

You sigh. You just told him you didn’t want to owe anything.

Still, you tear open the carton. It rips in a clean line, unraveling itself. You gasp at the sight of the most beautiful spear you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It’s far from elegant, the tip resembling the sharpened spine of a dragon, as if a hunter’s trophy. The shaft, fading from blood red to black on its tip as scales, feels sleek to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

A piece of paper is taped onto it, folded in half, and has the words READ ME printed in bold ink. You cast a glance at Rosalie, who’s still out of sight, then swiftly read the contents of the letter.

Come with me to the banquet tomorrow morning, with an address attached.

Your first thought is to rip it to shreds. Your second one—which happens to be the louder one—is curious about the event. Why invite you? Is this a trap? Did he want to show you something?

A banquet… You catch a reflection of yourself on the shop’s window, seeing a muddy apron, a loose blouse, and pants that most probably belonged to a man before you got your hands on it. A banquet invitation by the famous Great Magician Lyney is like a challenge to your wealth and fame, but Lyney’s not like that. Curiosity ends up winning.

“Rosalie?” you call out.

She emerges from the door. Her dress, even for gardening—unlike yours—is gorgeous and grand and definitely meant for banquets. She unties her apron. “Yes, darling?”

And that’s how you ended up getting all dolled up. Having learned your lesson from last time, you asked Rosalie to loosen your corset. This gown is larger than your previous one, fluffing around your waist and pooling by your feet in a graceful heap of velvet fabric.

You can’t help but notice the wine-red shade of Rosalie’s lips matched the skirt of the gown.

“Can I borrow the lip color you use?” you ask quietly, feeling like you’re already asking too much from her.

You cast your gaze to the floor, too nervous to behold Rosalie’s expression. You didn’t get to see how she smiles fondly or how her eyes crinkle as you fidget on your feet. When she returns from fetching her box of cosmetics, she holds your chin and grins.

“Thanks, maman,” you try to say, with your mouth wide open and all as she paints your lips.

The brush pauses. Rosalie’s face softens. “Of course, Mon bébé. Always.”

As you enter the main hall, a man in a suit greets you with a tray of glasses in hand. He waits patiently and doesn’t leave until you reluctantly take one with a muttered thanks.

Where is Lyney?

You scan the place. The chandelier twinkles with diamonds, raining on everyone’s heads with a colorful reflection that illuminated their jewelry. Although Rosalie’s gowns were far more expensive than anything you’ve ever worn, it almost seems like it’s nothing compared to the over-the-top dresses and suits excuse of a wealth showcase.

They’re all talking and laughing with each other, sipping idly on their half-empty champagne. Feeling out of place, you tip the glass back and swallow quietly.

Its acidity makes you wince, but the taste bursts with a rich flavor. The last time you consumed anything alcoholic, it was your 18th birthday, and Rosalie slid over a glass of wine. The day ended in you throwing up on the sidewalk, but the memory is sweet. It has you going for one more sip.

The banquet-goers pay you no mind as you walk further inside. They chatter, eat, and tip their heads back to drink, but they don’t spare you even a glance. Perhaps they can smell the money off of you—which was none.

Meow, you hear by your feet.

“Oh!” you say, pleasantly surprised. You bend down to offer your hand out. “Hello, kitty. That’s a dashing hat you have there.”

The cat purrs and rubs itself on the back of your palm. Its dark fur is soft, a telltale sign of a well-groomed cat.

“Are you here with someone?” you ask politely, expecting no response, but the cat starts moving its paws and saunters off with a destination.

With nothing else to do, you obediently follow.

The cat strolls off. It brushes past leather shoes and ruffles and layers of skirts. It walks like it knows exactly where it’s going in the grand room. Maybe the little guy actually does. Its hat bounces as it trots, which reminds you of a particular lilac-eyed individual.

But you stopped following, eventually, because your eyes caught on— speak of the devil.

Lyney grins as cards fly across from one hand to another in a smooth movement. There aren't any stage props or spotlights flashing down on him, yet everyone watches with rapt gazes. That's always been his real talent: a magnet for attention by simply waving his hands. By batting his eyes, he's got everyone enamored.

For all his talk about keeping a fair distance with his admirers, you can’t blame any of them for believing Lyney’s comfort in their presence, his ease in the way they crowd him. He’s a splendid actor.

For some reason, this brings out an unpleasant feeling in your chest. It makes you want to reach out and show them what he’s truly like without a mask—but that doesn’t sound right to you, either. They don’t have to know what Lyney’s like when he wraps his arms around your personal space.

Maybe the alcohol is getting to you.

Before you can turn away, fingers clasp around your forearm and pull you against a body.

Lyney’s smiling wide, a jarring contrast to the fake one seconds ago. “You’re here!”

You get flustered, aware of his audience directing their attention to both of you. “I told you I didn’t like owing anyone anything.”

Lyney laughs melodically, kissing the back of your palm. Is he aware of all these eyes? He has to be—that’s his life’s work. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he wants to show off as much as you do.

The air was thick the moment you entered the banquet, scents of all perfumes and roasted meats clashing and clinging to your nose, but suddenly it felt a lot more charged. Like you could faintly register the hair on your arms standing up in attention as you hold Lyney’s gaze.

“Forgive me; I missed you and had to come up with an excuse, somehow,” he says, winking up at you.

“We just saw each other two days ago,” you say.

When the tray of wine passes by once more, you eagerly draw out another glass. The faint buzz in the back of your head is not strong enough to drown out your stupid thoughts about Lyney, of all people.

The man of the hour—Lyney, because he always is—does the same. He murmurs, “You look breathtaking.”

“You should’ve warned me that the banquet would be ten times fancier than what I had in mind,” you say in return.

“And yet, even unprepared, no soul can take their eyes off you.”

You hope Lyney’s just saying that as a compliment, and it’s not what’s actually happening. You crane your neck and notice a whispering crowd as they stare at you. It wasn’t the whole truth. Even when pressed against Lyney, all eyes are on him. You face Lyney, suddenly conscious.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even once when his fingers reached out to fish out a champagne flute. Lyney still has that stupid smile on his face, the rim of his glass against his lips. You’re hit with the startling realization that you want to kiss him.

Fuck, what?

Your face burns, breath hitching in a way that has you choking on your drink. What the hell are you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

“I need another drink,” you say after downing your current one in half.

Lyney frowns, patting your back. His warmth sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I think what you need is water. How many glasses have you had already?”

You don’t want to be sober when you’re faced with Lyney. You don’t want to be sober when Lyney’s so close. “Not enough,” you say, because you don’t want to be sober right now.

The rest of the signs of intoxication start to settle as the laughter that rings somewhere from afar softens into an echo. The warm lights that showered the room seemed to glow when they rested on Lyney’s face. Though, you can’t quite tell if it’s intoxication or if it’s Lyney’s magic.

“What’s this banquet for?”

Lyney hums, taking one long sip. His lips press against the glass. “We’re celebrating father’s return.”

You think of The Knave instead, tall and intimidating when you stand across her, and wince. “She’s back?”

“Mhm,” Lyney says, his eyes tracing over your face, “has been for a while now, but the orphans decided to throw a little something for her. Can’t you tell? Half of the people in this room are Fatui.”

Oh.

You couldn’t tell, but you should’ve known. The Orphans were raised and trained to be masters of deception, blending seamlessly.

“But… why?” You’re starting to feel some weight on your tongue.

“We needed sponsors for a party this grand,” Lyney leans in to whisper, eyes gleaming, “and a party this grand would surely attract important people who know a lot.”

You want to ask why he’s telling you all of this freely, but you catch the flush dancing on his cheeks, and it faintly registers that Lyney must be a little drunk as well.

“Lyney, I—”

“Don't worry.” He’s still whispering. You have to draw closer to hear him. “I wouldn't have invited you if ‘Father’ personally came here. It’s just us, and no one will bother you if you’re with me.”

“Then why invite me here?”

Lyney smiles playfully, posture elegant with practice yet shoulders loose with the champagne. “I thought you would have been eager to learn more about the House’s current state.”

Was this a jab to his suspicions? Or was this him trying to reach out and employ a sense of nostalgia? You’re not drunk enough for this.

“Most of the ones we grew up with were sent off to other regions. But the one hosting—do you remember Cecilia?

You remember Cecilia. You have scars that remind you of Cecilia. “How has she been? Good, I hope? No grudges against me?”

“She never held any grudges,” Lyney laughs, and he tells you all about how they’ve all been since you left.

Without meaning to, you and Lyney end up recalling memories back in the House. And without thinking hard about it, you pluck another glass, then another, emboldened by the taste and fruits of alcohol—emboldened by how each sip has you feeling light. You don’t realize it, but you and Lyney end up pressed against each other, fondly remembering memories you thought you left behind. You could never run too far.

Maybe it’s your inhibitions dissipating along with the fizz of the champagne. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s when Lyney’s tongue darted out to wet his lip, the words died in your mouth, and your head is heavy and very much feeling like it wants to be caught by Lyney. With his face.

“Hey,” Lyney says, his hand trailing across your jaw. As if he’s stopping you. “We’re pretty out of it right now. Don’t kiss me.”

You scowl. “Why? you hate me that much?”

Lyney’s eyes widen. “No. Don’t—don’t pout at me like that.” He covers your mouth. “That’s not fair.”

You haven’t even realized you were pouting. You wave his hand off and slump against him, curling against his comforting warmth. You like the view of the flush on Lyney’s neck crawling all the way up to his ears.

Lyney sighs, his back leaning against the wall as he holds you. You haven’t even noticed that you and Lyney were huddled together in a dark corner. “It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

You want to shut him up. “You’re talking too much. Just kiss me.”

“No,” Lyney says, but he doesn’t push you off of him either. “Let’s get you water.”

Ugh. The thought of water makes you sick. You resist the urge to vomit and nuzzle your nose on his collarbone, visibly relaxing when he steadies you with hands on both sides of your hips. This is better than water.

“Did you like my gift?” Lyney whispers to your ear.

You nod against his neck. “It was cool. I didn't know how to repay you, but now… now I regret coming here.”

“Why’s that?”

You run your fingers through his hair, messing up the braid on the side of his head. “Because I want to kiss you, and you’re being annoying. The nerve you have when you’re looking at me like that.”

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

“I’m not. Why else am I all over you instead of someone else?”

You watch in fascination as Lyney’s pupils dilate. Lyney’s skin feels so soft to the touch and inexplicably warm. Why is he denying you? Surely he feels it, too. Surely he wants it, too.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Lyney trembles. “What’s—what… What are you and Lynette up to? There has to be a reason you’re here, right? Tell me.”

Lyney frowns, pulling away to face you. “What?”

But then light rolls into view, stinging your eyes at the abrupt radiance. Someone has turned the lights on, possibly the culprit of this assault and rude interruption.

“Oh, shit,” a voice says.

Lyney stiffens, hands moving protectively around your torso, shielding you from the light that floods in when the door opens.

“M-Master Childe!” Lyney exclaims, looking torn between standing up and keeping you shielded, still. He has lipstick on his jaw; you want to point at it and laugh.

“Lord Tartaglia’s here?” you ask, stumbling over his name.

“Um,” Lord Tartaglia stands frozen by the doorway, “I’ll be leaving you two to it.”

ive never gotten drunk before so idk how off i am from the real deal, but i did consult my friend who has gotten drunk so hopefully i was at least not too inaccurate LMFAOO

NO WAY NEW CHAPTER. and theyre being stupid. now ay..... TYSM FOR READIN!!!!!! and sorry if this took a while i was being stupid too and decided to rewrite a big chunk last minute. LMK WHAT U THINK

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

The Dragon Made of Threads

Synopsis: Astarion is making a gift for you.

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion’s mind doesn’t let him rest.

The reverie is supposed to be a blessing, the only way for the True People to remember their long lives. But his long life was nothing but misery until very recently and he keeps being dragged into the darkness.

Oh, Astarion was so naive to believe it could have been over by killing his master and having the “rebirth” experience on the grave.

His past haunts him.

“You are tired,” you touch his forehead as if trying to sense fever. “You need some rest.”

“My sweet, elves can survive without trance for a week. And I am undead. I am fine.”

“You don't look fine. You have dark circles and your eyelids are puffy again. You need to rest.”

“No, I don’t!” He tries to sound confident but instead his voice resembles a rebellious teenager.

You are right, of course. The elves can survive without reverie for a week, the same way non-elves can make it through one or two sleepless nights. Then, the body and mind collapse.

But entering the reverie… Reliving tortures and humiliation… Feeling the same sense of misery and horror and hopelessness… No, he can’t do that. Not now. Not ever.

You are ready to sleep - it’s the first time in a month that you sleep in the room, not in the tent - the thick curtains protect Astarion from the merciless sun.

“Please,” you yawn. “Meditate.”

“I will.”

“Don’t lie to me, please, I know when you are dishonest.”

Astarion grins. “Oh, my sweet, I am no liar. I am going to reverie once you fall asleep. I just like watching you when the dreams take over you.”

“Astarion, when you say the truth your eyes are wide open. When you smirk, you lie. Listen, maybe I can do something? Something to make you… think about something pleasant? It’s been a year! There are a lot of good memories to relive. Let’s just find a way to point your mind in the right direction!”

A year of good memories. Well, a little bit more. Four months of having a tadpole in his brain, experiencing freedom and sunlight, falling in love, learning how to feel again, and how to be alive. All these memories are precious, even the ones he is embarrassed about. For example, using you in his own favor. It doesn’t matter you’ve forgiven him - it still hurts.

Astarion sighs and lies beside you. Your arms immediately wrap around him. The familiar warmth is so tender that Astarion lets himself slip away into the reverie.

He is indeed tired.

He needs to rest.

But instead of grasping a good memory, a pleasant or at least bearable, his mind collapses into the abyss.

Chained to the wall. Bleeding. Hurting. He can’t scream anymore. It’s an old memory from when he was still hoping. He begs for mercy but no one listens. Hunger. Pain. Blood. Again, again.

The master is whistling, carving the symbols on Astarion’s back with a silver dagger. The cursed metal feels like melted lava.

Astarion doesn’t need to sleep, neither does the vampire lord.

This is your life, forever. You are doomed. No one will save you.

No! No! It’s not true! It will end! It will take two centuries, two long and miserable centuries, but it will come to an end!

Astarion screams in the past until his throat burns.

“Astarion! Astarion!”

He feels the warm hands shaking his shoulders. He returns to reality like a drowned man from the dark waters, numb and restless.

You don’t say anything and he collapses into your arms, crying like a lost child.

“I can’t… I can’t… I need to rest… But I can’t…”

His back… His back is still bleeding, he can feel it, but your fingers caress the scars. It’s all over. It’s been more than a year. He will never return to those dungeons. No one will ever mutilate him again.

You let him go and pick up the travel sack in the corner.

“I bought something at the potion merchant. I think it might help.”

“Please, I - I can… handle…”

You take out a bottle with a golden liquid.

Angelic sleep potion.

The only way to make an elf experience regular sleep.

“No.”

“Astarion, what choice do you have? One more day like this and you won’t be able to walk on your own. You need it.”

“No! I am not drinking this! My mind keeps bringing me real nightmares and I have heard all about the creepy dreams and nightmares the sleeping mind can weave!”

“But it won't be reality! Besides, when a non-elf is exhausted like you, they don’t see dreams.”

“But I won’t be able to escape it. With reverie at least I know it’s a memory!”

You sit beside Astarion and hug him. “Please. If you don’t want to do this for yourself, do this for me. I can’t see you suffering like this.”

Astarion sighs. “You are manipulative, you know?”

“Learned from a professional”.

Astarion adjusts himself back on the bed and opens the bottle. The potion smells intoxicating. “But I do this only for you.”

“And I am grateful for your sacrifice.”

Astarion drains the bottle and before he manages to acknowledge anything, sleep takes him.

He sees visions and images. Places and people. Some are familiar, and some are not. His mind weaves the dreams out of emotions, memories, and experiences.

Astarion dreams of a dragon.

It’s an ancient species of dragons, otherworldly. A majestic creature capable of carrying a dragon rider on its back.

Astarion rides this dragon above the Trackless Sea. There is nothing but the water and open blue skies.

And the sun.

It feels like cat fur on his skin, gentle and warm.

Astarion wakes up still dizzy with the unrealness of what he saw.

And he feels amazing.

His body is rested, and his mind is clear. The dream was so vivid that Astarion would believe he was once a dragon rider if he didn’t know about the weird fantasies of non-elven dreams.

He looks at you, sound asleep in the bed. His. You are his. And he is yours. What a sheer amount of luck made you meet each other? And how lucky he is you chose him.

It is still afternoon, hours before the sunset and he knows too well you won't wake up till evening.

Astarion needs to occupy himself with something. He gets up, stretches his arms, and then sees your traveling cape on the floor.

“Such a messy little thing”, he chuckles. Astarion picks up the cape and notices a hole in the fabric.

Astarion takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. He loves repairing things for you - complaining all the way, of course - but he never lets you sew yourself.

And then the idea comes to his mind.

Instead of black threads, he picks the red ones. It takes him a few attempts to understand how to do that but then the stitches come naturally from his fingers.

A dragon soaring in the skies. A divine creature from other planes. A beast that came to him in his dreams.

Astarion carefully embroiders the body of the dragon, then the wings and a stream of fire from its mouth.

He still has a lot of threads left and he starts embroidering the other dragon on the opposite side of the cape.

Then he notices something has changed.

The curtain is wide open and the moonlight streams inside the room. You sit beside him, smiling at his work.

“Oh, sorry, my sweet. I’ve been carried away…”

“It’s all right. I like watching you sew. But it’s the first time I see you making something like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course!” you touch the embroidered dragons. “So real! I didn’t know you could do such things!”

“I- I’ve seen them. In a dream.”

The tender fingers touch his curls. “You’ve rested, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I have,” Astarion hands you the cape. “If you want, I can add more. I just need more threads”.

You smile and kiss him. “Of course, I do. Thank you.”

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion drabble #astarion short fic #spacebarbarian fics #astarion fluff #astarion comfort #baldur's gate post game #Valentine Day Fic Exchange

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yandere-wishes · 9 months

Text

⋆ Anomaly ⋆

❤Summary: Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

❤Author's note: A little something for Ana (@yandere-romanticaa) I hope you enjoy it!!

❤Warnings: Reader is traumatized, Yandere behavior, killing and blood, cryptic. I swear I know how math works…I've just been slaking this summer.

There are equations written over your skin. Complex formulas he's yet to solve. Exponents and variables freckle your body, scattered shards that try to tell him something, whispering the world's secrets every time he kisses your hand. You are an anomaly he thinks. Face full of cracks where the stars seep through. You're a mistake in the universe. A perfect doll misplaced. You are something, William is almost sure of it.

At heart, William is and always will be a mathematician. It just so happens that crime and math follow the same principles. Both require diligence and practice. Carefully throughout plans of how one must approach such a conundrum. One may call it a formula or a modus operandi or anything else as jejune. But in the end, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.

And yet to Moriarty, you are an equation that refuses to be solved. An enigma he's desperately sought to unravel since your first meeting.

William notices something odd as you stroll down an exquisite exemplar of the golden ratio. Something the lord of crime can't fully place. You're akin to a puzzle missing far too many pieces to properly depict its picture. Maybe it's the setting he ponders as he watches you take careful steps in heeled shoes. Maybe it's the music from the ballroom or the meaningless prattle of the aristocrats that robs your form of all logic. Something is amiss with you and he's frantic to find out what it is.

William introduces himself when you reach the bottom of the staircase. He's never been one to show primary interest in the ladies. Rather he waits in the faint glow of the moonlight until someone approces him. Maybe it's the need to distinguish himself from the other aristocrats, maybe it's the repulsion for their customs and manners that refrains him from ever commencing idle chatter. Yet with you, a girl he's never met before, he finds it fitting to say hello first. To talk, about nothing and everything in the same breath. He mentions his admiration for the staircase in passing. Never expecting you to latch on to the words and morph them into the divine proportion. "My father was a mathematical enthusiast, he's passed that on to me as well." Your words slip into his veins like a narcotic, like the melody of an ancient tune lost to time.

William smiles, easy and bright like the melting rays of the desert sun. "Quite the coincidence, I'm a mathematics professor at Durham University". There's a giggle that bleeds from your rose-tainted lips. Reverberating in the chambers of his heart. "A toast then" you propose "to the lethal magnificence of calculation"

You click your champagne glass against his, as something feral festers within the young nobleman.

It's only days later when he's replaying that night in his head as he sips his afternoon tea. That he realizes your champagne glass was empty that whole time. How strange he pondered, wondering if he'd even seen you touch a single intoxicant all evening.

Four days and three sleepless nights later William finds himself tracing the letters of your name with tender adoration. As if he's engraving prayers upon his bones. He needs to see you again as desperately as he needs to breathe. The letter he writes is aloof, meticulous. Prying on your curiosity, hoping you'll take the bait. One miserable day later Louis delivers a letter bathed in your fragrance. Informing the lord Moriarty of your acceptance of his invitation for tea. William folds the letter with the leniency of a biologist regulating their slides. Tucking it away within his breast pocket.

You wear red when you oblige his invitation. An odd red, one that breaks his perception of the color. It's too vibrant yet too opaque. He's beginning to wonder if everything about you is an irregularity. When he ushers the conversation to your garment you merely laugh and brush it off as having belonged to your mother. There's something wrong with that reply as if the universe weeps at your every word. William watches astonished as if he's been told a secret lost to time.

It becomes a habit, an obsession, an addiction really. Tea thrice a week with the woman who plagues his dreams. He lets his cover slip between sips of tea. Permitting you glances into his dark affairs. There's a moment that breaks the norm. A bizarre instance when you ask him to spare no detail in recounting how a poor tormented man murdered the marquess that raped his wife. William stops the proclean cup mere millimeters from his lips. His voice dies in his throat as his mind races to find an appropriate way to tell a lady such a bloody tale. For a second reality slips away.

Reality has a tendency to slip away unnoticed when he's with you.

You weave William tales of foreign lands that sound like they belong in children's fairytales. You tell him about heroes who've done the impossible and kings whose hearts are as pure as the summer skies.

Something about you reverberates in his subconscious. Oh, how he wishes to engulf you, to pick apart your flesh revealing all those dainty secrets you keep in your pretty little chest.

He asks how you know of such utopic lands. You smile. "Because I once lived there"

One day, as Louis serves black tea with rose petals, you bring up a rather peculiar request. "Permit me to assist you in your quest for equality lord Moriarty." William's beginning to believe he's going mad when he hears you. Albit it may as well be expected. Any sane noble lady would have run away many times over. Yet you remain. Forever poised in your adorned seat. Now more than ever William wishes he knew what you truly are. "I want to help you", you plead. "Allow me to aid you in burning this world down and starting anew". He shouldn't have accepted, he shouldn't have nobbed. He shouldn't have left his seat to trace the side of your face with more love than he knew he possessed.

Sometimes, William wonders if something is haunting you, an apparition nesting within the depths of your heart. He ponders what could drive a brilliant mind such as yours to crave the blood of the rich. You once told him about a heritage disrespected. A legacy buried under sand and water lilies. He's yet to find the true meaning behind those words. Does that make you a threat or an ally? Can either be exalted to a lover?

Moriarty promises you the world. Promise you revenge. He's not sure if he too will burn away in your vendetta. Yet he's willing to take the risk if he can hold you close after every murder case.

"I've tried to kick the habit of strolling around the cemeteries at night. Yet I must admit I rather enjoy this." William smiles at your twisted words as he leads the way. If everything has goes as planned -which is most often the case- then the two of you should be prepared for quite the spectacle. A certain Count - who had shown more interest in you than Moriarty could permit- would be getting knifed by his butler whose life he had ruined. A whole new meaning to the term 'the butler did it'. Quite comedic from William's perspective.

You lean on a withering oak tree, hidden by London's thick fog. William stands by your side, the personification of a grim reaper. You watch the play begin, the cobblestone stage illuminated by the blood-red moon. The confrontation, the knife being thrust into the rich vermin's heart. Again and Again and Again. The butler screams into the bloodstained night. His words quelled by his sobs and screams of agony from his dying tormentor. You only catch half of his reasoning, half of his allegations. And yet that is more than enough to comprehend his motive. You sympathize with the poor man, one whose scars mirror your own.

William's scarlet gaze befalls you, as the performance nears its end.

You pick at your nails in a manner that William finds a little too adorable.

You are an anomaly masquerading as a human. Depression lays heavy over your bones as stardust gathers in the corners of your eyes.

You pray to the creator of the moon, pray for a place long since destroyed.

"I've yet to find someone who truly understands me," you say as the two of you begin the journey back to the Moriarty estate.

"Then we share the same burden, my lady," William says, stopping in his tracks.

He lays a firm hand on your shoulder pulling you backwards into his embrace. Somewhere in the distance, three crows consecrate you with their blessings. Willian's hands rest heavy on your sides. He holds you like a little boy holds his father's arithmatic books. Full of care, full of wonder. "What are you" he whispers into your ear. Leaving a playfully hard bite to the shell. His lips trace yours like one traces a treasure map. Trying to unearth all the riches of the world. "My anomaly" he mutters before he finally commits.

When Moriarty kisses you the whole world melts away.

There's an intriguing lightheadedness that follows. As if the stars themselves have exploded within you. You wonder if basking in his presence will mend your tattered heart.

"My precious little anomaly"

Tag list: @elvyshiarieko @himerurun @latolover @aru-nightmare @guidingstarsstuff @myfancollections

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workwithmeman · 3 months

Text

Pairing - Mountain x Phantom, 1.4k words, mature/explicit

Tags: body worship, phantummy, phantom being a little shit, mountain being desperate, mountain finishing in like 9 seconds oops, first time writing smut sorry, not beta read

Mountain was going to lose his fucking mind.

He knew Phantom had always been pretty - from the moment he had tumbled out of the summoning circle, he was all pouty lips, angled face, and doe eyes. A little gangly and underfed, sure, but nothing that a little love and home cooked meals couldn’t fix. And he was sweet - Lord Below was he sweet. An adorable nativity paired with a penchant to please that drove Mountain insane with a need to fawn, dote on, and love the little ghoul.

But now that they had gotten back from tour, things had only gotten worse for Mountain. Without the constant exercise of tour and the increase in lovingly prepared rich comfort foods of winter, Phantom had started to grow a little soft around the edges. What once was all prominent bones and sharp edges became gently curvy and cherubic, with softer thighs and arms and an ass that Mountain would love to bury his face in.

But the kicker, the absolute killing blow to Mountain’s sanity, was Phantom’s fucking tummy. As he had softened, a little bit of that fat had migrated to his chest and stomach, creating the most adorable little pooch that Mountain wanted to kiss, lick, suck - anything that Phantom would allow him to.

Sweet Satan, he was screwed.

—-

Mountain’s day started like normal, with him gently untangling himself from Phantom’s death grip on his body and shuffling to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. In the kitchen he found Dewdrop, holding a scalding cup of coffee and heating up the water for Mountain. He offered Mountain a sleepy smile.

“Hey big guy. Sleep alright?”

Mountain grunted in response, holding his cup out to Dew wordlessly.

“Understood,” Dew chuckled, pouring hot water in to Mountain’s teacup. “Phantom keep you up last night?”

“You could say that. Little bug is driving me crazy.” Mountain gently blew on his tea.

“Oh? What did he do now?” Dew leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee. “More video games? Another documentary?”

“Satan, I wish. It’s just fucking him, Dew, I’m losing my mind. I just want to hold him and never let go.”

Dew laughed again. “Wow Mount, never thought I’d see the day someone made an honest woman out of you. It’s a good look.”

“Who’s making an honest woman out of Mountain?” Phantom’s sleepy voice called from down the hall. “I want to help.”

As Phantom appeared in the doorway, Mountain’s mouth went completely dry. In his bat boxer briefs and bat wing hoodie, Phantom looked good enough to eat. Mountain wanted to mark him, claim him, fuck him, break him, and then put him back together again. He wanted to grab him and steal him back to their room and spend hours eating the poor boy out until he cried. Fuck. Mountain needed to get his shit together.

“Oh, um, hi bug. H-how did you sleep?” Mountain stammered. Phantom chuckled and walked over to him, tucking himself against Mountain’s chest and kicking up a gentle purr.

“Like a rock. Your cuddles and your tea always make me go out like a light.” Phantom nuzzled against Mountain’s neck before pulling away to the cabinet where the tea was kept.

As he stood on his tiptoes to reach his favorite box of tea, his hoodie rode up a little, revealing a sliver of dark purple belly, just sticking out a bit over his boxers. Mountain looked up from his sip of tea, only to spit it out all over Dew, coughing heavily.

“What the fuck, Mount, are you trying to infect me with your earth ghoul cooties? Fuck off with that shit,” Dew yelped. He looked down at himself, now covered with a healthy spray of earl grey. “Ah, shit. Now I have to change my fucking shirt.”

Dew walked out of the kitchen past a sheepish Mountain and a bewildered Phantom, yanking off his shirt as he went.

“You alright there, Mounty? Everything OK?” Phantoms big purple eyes stared up at him, taking his breath away.

Mountain flushed up to his horns. “U-uh yeah, bug. Just choked a little bit. Sorry if I scared you.” Phantom rolled his eyes.

“Just glad you’re not dying, you big dummy. I love you too much to watch you choke to death on leaf water.”

Mountain smiled, tugging Phantom back into his chest. “I love you too, bug. I love you too.”

——

As their day progressed, Mountain slowly became more sure that Phantom was intentionally trying to drive him insane. The way he’d slowly bend over a laundry basket in front of Mountain and turn around and smile teasingly, the way he’d lift his sweater up over his head and make sure his t-shirt was stuck to it, the way he’d brush up against Mountain when they were working side by side. Mountain was ready to grab the little quint by the scruff of his neck and drag him back to their room to not be seen for at least a few days.

It all came to a head at movie night. The ghouls were all gathered in the common room watching some movie Dew and Aether liked, something with bombs and explosions and good special effects. Something Mountain could ignore for something sweeter. Namely, his lapful of quintessence ghoul.

Phantom was lounging against the earth ghoul’s torso, sitting between his legs. Every few minutes he’d shift ever so slightly, pressing back directly into Mountain’s dick. He stretched backwards, bringing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and allowing his shirt to ride up as he nuzzled into Mountain’s neck.

Come on Mounty, hold me. I’m so cold.

Mountain could hear Phantom’s voice echoing around his brain.

I know you’ve been staring. Come on, wrap those big arms around me. I can feel you, I can feel you’re hard. I know you want me, Mounty.

Mountain growled slightly into Phantom’s neck.

Don’t start something you can’t finish, little bug. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Phantom only chirped and ground harder back into the earth ghoul. He brought his mouth right up to Mountain’s ear.

“Please, Mounty. Take me back to our room, come on.”

Mountain growled, picking Phantom up and throwing him over his shoulder as Phantom squealed happily. As they walked out of the common room, a there were a few chuckles and groans from various members of the pack, but they mostly ignored the scene happening in front of them.

Once they reached their shared room, Mountain tossed Phantom into the nest, yanking his shirt over his head.

“You fucking tease. Whatever am I to do with you?” He crawled forwards, caging Phantom in on all sides. “Hope you don’t like this shirt too much, bug. You’re not getting it back.”

In one swift motion, Mountain slashed the center of Phantom’s shirt open, revealing his delicate, plush purple skin. Mountain immediately latched onto Phantom’s neck, kissing, sucking and licking his way down the quint’s body until he reached his tummy.

“Fucking harassing me all day, showing this cute little tummy off when you know I can’t handle it. Fucking drives me insane, bug, madness how gorgeous you are. Could stare for hours and never have enough.”

Phantom whined, squirming against the sheets. “Then why don’t yo-hah-do something more than just stare? Please Mounty, I need it. Touch me, please.”

“Oh princess, you’ve had more than enough touches for today. You always get what you want, hmm? It’s time for me to get something back.”

Mountain straddled Phantom’s calf, slowly starting to grind as he shoved his face back into his soft purple tummy.

“Fuck, bug, you’re perfect. Love how soft you are, how soft you’ve gotten. Love that you’re so strong now, so pretty. Such a pretty ghoul.” Mountain gasped, staring to hump Phantom’s leg more aggressively. He brought a hand down to Phantom’s straining cock, slowly beginning to jerk it.

“You drive me crazy, baby, your cute little ass and your fucking thighs, love, wanna cover em with my marks. Wanna make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Wanna - ah! Wanna mate you, mark you, show everyone how much I fucking love you, need you, want you, ah-!”

Mountain finishes with a cry, spilling all over Phantom’s leg. Phantom follows shortly after, enamored with the scene of the earth ghoul falling apart. They lay together, panting, for a minute until Mountain crawls up Phantom’s body to kiss him. A comfortable silence falls over the pair.

“H-hey Mounty? Did you mean what you said? Do you want to be my mate?” Phantom asked nervously, tilting his chin up to look in to the earth ghouls eyes.

“With my whole heart, body, and soul, bug. If you want, whenever you want, wherever you want, I’m yours.”

#the band ghost #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #ghost ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #aeon x mountain #phantom x mountain #nameless ghouls #estel writes #uhhh ghoul smutish ig

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luvrboydave · 9 months

Text

dad's best friend dave brainrot

pairing: dave mustaine x fem!reader

warnings: smut, age gap, oral sex (f receiving), pet names, hair pulling

a/n: had to remake this account so i'm posting this again lol whoops...anyways enjoy!!

CLICK HERE FOR PT.2

your dad invites him over for dinner and to have beers, watch shit on tv, talk cars, etc every so often. he’s just so fucking hot, and the fact that he lives just across the street makes things so much worse. when dave mows his lawn, he’s always shirtless and every time you make sure to be out on your front porch to stare at him. and don’t think he doesn't notice your lingering stares…in fact, he likes to put on a bit of a show for you, constantly wearing those slutty little cutoff tank tops around you, going to his mailbox in the morning wearing nothing but a low-hanging pair of grey sweats…he likes that you watch him; honestly, he kinda gets off on it. knowing someone much younger than him finds him attractive turns him on so much.

one night while your dad is out of the house for a work trip, dave presses you up against the kitchen counter, his chest flush with your back, and whispers nasty shit in your ear as you grind back into him. “been thinking ‘bout this for so long,” he groans as he grabs your hips and holds you still against his hardening cock. he flips you around to face him, hoisting you to sit on the counter before kneeling, flipping your skirt up, and sliding your pretty little panties down your legs. and god, he is such a tease. he takes his sweet time rubbing up your thighs, purposefully avoiding the spot you need him most. he won’t touch you until you whine for him to do so. he wants to hear how desperate you are for his touch, how badly you need him between your legs. “please, dave, please touch me...need you so bad! ’m so wet for you, baby...” he looks up at you with that stupid fucking smirk and whispers out a “good girl” before diving right into your soaked pussy. and good lord, this man eats pussy like his life depends on it!

your legs are thrown over his shoulders, and it’s all so fuckin sloppy. his fingers are pressed inside of you as he laps at your swollen clit. his pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, and he’s staring up at you through his messy bangs, watching how you react to his touch. his chin is glistening with a mixture of your slick and his spit, and his pretty nose brushes up against your clit occasionally. you brush the hair from his face to get a better look at his pussydrunk expression, and it almost sends you over the edge. your hands weave into his curly hair and try to pull him away from you. dave growls when you pull his hair, his eyes rolling to the back of his head for a split second at the feeling, but he doesn’t budge. “oh shit- baby, ‘m gonna cum!” you cry out, your grip on his hair tightens, and you begin to squirm. dave wraps his arms around your plush thighs, pulls you closer to his mouth, and mumbles, “stop squirmin’, sweetheart.” your eyes roll back into your skull, and your legs start to shake. “c’mon sweetheart, cum for me. let go, baby.” dave growls. “fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming-” you cry out. your whole body shudders, and your vision goes white. dave grunts against your pussy, helping you ride through your orgasm. “fuck, sweetheart...you did so good for me. so good, baby,” dave groans, “god…this pussy is gonna kill me, baby,” he breathes out, resting his head against your thigh, a dopey smile on his face. through your labored breathing, you manage to mumble, “what about you?” he looks up at you and laughs a bit, “no need to worry ‘bout me, sweetheart…you already made me cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager.”

#dave mustaine smut #megadeth smut #dave mustaine x reader #metallica smut #smut

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christinebloodwrittings · 30 days

Text

To hunt or be hunted #8

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: The revelation that pulled off bits of your armor. Warnings: Song fic, violence, mental breakdown.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz

(Picture belongs to Vivzie) (I’ll Never Smile Again, by Tommy Dorsey)

After taking a deep breath, you opened the duffle bag. A brown leather bag containing the clothes you died in, a man’s hunting attire you borrowed from a dead man, and your axe. You smiled, remembering when Charlie tried to lift it, the metal of the blade being far too heavy to carry, even with both her hands.

In yours it weighed a lot, but that gave you always the necessary momentum to cut a skull in half.

For this event, you would have to look like the Axe-man, for that you used the black corset, had a plaque of angelic steal embedded under the fabric. On top of the white dress shirt, your brown vest and long black coat. On one thigh you strapped your dagger and on the other a small pistol, both covered by the long brown skirt that matched your vest.

As you made your was back to the parlor, your serious aura called the attention of the members in the room, “Someone’s gonna die” Angel partially joked, essentially because your pupils weren’t dilated and you looked armed to the teeth.

“Oh darling, now that is how we kill in style” Alastor brought your eyes to him by directing your face with a finger under your jaw.

“Hopefully we won’t have to, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready” You noticed Alastor’s bow tie was slightly out of place, so you took it upon yourself to pull him to lean a little, undo it, and tie it to perfection all over again. He had left his tie crooked on purpose so you would fix it.

“Uuh, smiles got a date” Angel winked at you, “This will be more fun than a that, won’t it, Alastor?” he put his hand on your shoulder smiling sweetly, “Indeed chérie”, maybe you’ll admit to him that you adore the way he speaks French to you, one day.

“Be careful, with whatever you guys do” Charlie felt some of your pain, it would weight on her far too much if she did entirely. The thought of not seeing you again hunted her as the months got by, would never say that directly to you.

“We will princess, don’t fret, I would never risk an asset as priceless as our dear chef” he made you laugh, “Asset?” you playfully hit his side, “I mean it in the best of ways, sweetheart” in a way to fix his dumb joke, he took your hand and kiss your palm.

“Going out?” Lucifer walked down the stairs, you noticed he was fresh out of the shower, given hoy fluffy his hair looked, oh how you wanted to pat his head. “Y/n and I will be addressing a loose end, nothing that your royal highness should worry about” you rolled your eyes at the bitterness in the words ‘your royal highness’ coming from Alastor.

“Just visiting some mobsters, we will be back soon, my lord” he frowned, but he smiled through his discomfort. “Can I go? Maybe I can be of assistance, no one would be stupid enough to cross me” He tugged at the lapels of his jacket with pride, winking at you with a sly smile, ‘Would it offend him if I say no because I want to command respect for being me?’ you thought.

You ended up feeling guilty for even thinking that, so you just caressed his cheek, “Maybe next time?” he nodded into your hand, then repeated “Next time”.

“Shall we, my dear?” Alastor’s voice behind you reminded you, “Right, don’t wait up, okay?” Lucifer took your hand before it leaved his skin, “Be safe” he kissed your knuckles, “We will, I promise” the little king enjoyed to no end the angry face Alastor made when he smiled into your hand during the small kiss.

Alastor didn’t moved around town in conventional ways on his day to day, but for that occasion he got a sweet deal on a red and black Model T Ford, to take you with style to the meeting. “Al, sweetie” At some moment you just couldn’t hold your laughter, “Yes chérie?” his prideful face made your laugh worse.

“I love the intention, but it’s a shit car” you felt the need to caress his arm, but given the early morning activities, you decided to give him some space. “No it’s not” he opened the door for you, as the lovely gentleman he is, “Sugar, even if they made the pieces down here, which they don’t, it’s a shit design, you got scammed” he made a few old timey showbiz laughs as he materialized inside the car.

“You forget I’m the Radio Demon” he put in the key, the engine sounded like a rooster with asthma, something must have gotten stuck between the spark plugs because the hood popped and smoke clouded the windshield.

“DON’T you say it” he warned, annoyed when he heard your mocking laughter, “I told you” he was not having it, “Want me to fix this?” he groaned. He saw you tinkering the engine for a few minutes, then come back inside the car. He tried the key one more time, when it ignited, the purr the car made was similar to a Lamborghini’s.

“I learned that in a convent” he was flabbergasted, “I even fought a nun; I was such a rebel, hit her with what I thought it was a crucifix, turned out to be a satanic church” he chuckled, not saying a word because he still couldn’t believe what just happened.

“Ha! Now that I remember, Lucifer would faint if he saw how they portrait him” you looked into the glove box finding a pair of sunglasses, “Boy you do not wanna know how high I flew out though a stained glass” you stopped talking seeing his eyes shining, “What?” he chuckled, “You keep on amazing me” how you blushed made his heart sing.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, you were out of breath for a second. “Nervous?” Alastor took your hand, helping you to regain some composure, “Either that or my corset is too tight” that too, but mostly nervous. “Just breathe darling” easy for him to say, “I haven’t done anything like this in thirty years” he pulled on your hand, hugged your whole body with a good loving squeeze and a twirl. “You’ll be great darling, just be your adorably deadly self” if you had your soul you would feel it swoon, “Thank you for supporting me on this” after a little kiss on your cheek he hooked your arm with his heading for the door.

“I will be out here if you need me” You appreciated his gesture, it was clear that he believed in your abilities and your strength, but that he would be there for you if you needed backup. Well if that didn’t made you confident, nothing will.

“Miss Axe-man! Wha-what-” one mobster shark shook in his seat after you kicked the door open, “Tony Redstone, my name is Y/n Lionheart” The office, a long room with a table of the same length in the center, mobsters of every caliber you can imagine sitting along it. At the end, in a leather chair, a man, a big man with a mustache so Italian that it said mamma mía by itself.

“The Axe-man of Louisiana” some of the men whispered, air caught in their throats as they processed the facts. “I gotta say kid, you got some nerve to stand here today alone” the raspy voice of Tony made it to your seat at the other end, “You sure have some nerve to receive me without a single pint or jazz playin’” one mobster ran to the cd player, making sure Miles Davis played in the background.

“I thought the murderer was a well, a man” laughed one before your axe went swiftly though his head and back to your hand, “Let’s get down to business, why are ya’ here for?” he played no mind to his comrade’s death, it made you laugh a bit.

“Does James Alden ring a bell?” his name on your tongue was like acid, “How could I forget? Poor fucker sold his own daughter to pay off his debt, what about him?” the spell you put around you was growing weary, the one that hides the corruption away.

“This is more about the child” now that raised suspicion, “What did you do with her?” there was some laughs at the table, “What is it to ya’?” asked one, “You’re exhausting my patience” you whispered as the multiple man started to question your intentions and seriousness.

“Look, it’s none of your business whore, now get outta ‘ere” you took a deep breath, “This will be the last time I ask politely” you never bothered to sit down, however that was the moment you did, making the chair squeak against the floor as you dragged it back enough to sit, “What did you do with my daughter?”.

“Alden married the Axe-man? Lucky bastard” again with the whispering, you lost a nerve, threw the axe around again, killing two more, “What did you do with my daughter?”. “YOU CRAZY BITCH!” yelled the next one to die, “What did you do to her? She was innocent, just a babe!” your voice started to pick up some volume.

“I wanted to raise her as my own, but my wife, she drowned her in the river” Tony blatantly said, ever so calmly.

As the sounds of breaking bones, screams and violence escalated, Alastor put the newspaper he was reading aside, regretting having done so when he opened the door to the room.

A chimera, or at least it seemed like one, had its horns destroyed, the tail of a normal lion instead of a snake, and the goat that should have been the second head did not exist. The noise that the creature's hooves made as it destroyed everything inside the office made goosebumps into his skin.

When the bat wings moved, Alastor had a clear view of your completely red eyes, completely animalistic face, a lion in all your glory, your roar silenced the static of his shivers.

That was the monster that terrified both Louisiana and hell before his arrival.

“I tried to stop her, I swear to god” you stomped on Tony’s legs again, “I TOLD YOU, I TRIED!” he screamed, making you smile, “What kind of monster accepts children as payment? I HELD HER ONCE, ONCE!” one last roar that pulverized his whole body.

“Al…Alastor” your distorted voice address to him, “I’m right here” he managed to say without choking on his own voice. Your body decreased in size as you approached him, breaking one or another skull that was on the ground, “Let’s go”, he nodded, following you to the street.

Neither of you said anything in the 15 minutes since Alastor started the car, driving around the city without necessarily getting anywhere. With his gaze he examined your body but everything was so perfectly covered, he didn't know whether to ask you if you were hurt or if you needed something, or what was going through your mind.

So he decided to drive towards Cannibal Town.

You didn't argue with him, when he parked the car and opened the door for you, offering his arm at the same time, you took it and walked together through the town.

“Would you like to eat something dear?” you shook you head, “I’m losing my mind” “I know a place that serves the best venison in hell, maybe just a bite, you didn’t touched your breakfast this morning”

“I held her once, Alastor, I’ll never get that back” your eyes tung, briefly the tears rolled down your cheeks, "I thought I could get fixed, with this the last piece of my fucking puzzle, to maybe die with some peace, yo know?" He opened his mouth to ask what were you talking about, but you didn't let him.

"But I felt nothing, just anger and emptiness, my daughter didn’t even had a chance at life, how is she going to answer for herself in purgatory with three days of being born?!" You let his arm go, to hug yourself, "Or maybe they waited a bit before they drown her, who the fuck knows?" He noticed your knuckles had gone white and your claws were sinking into your arms.

"Why God? Why! She was innocent, at least give me a sign she's there with you" you yelled to the sky, your vision clouded with tears.

"Why, if I tie everything together? I have tasted every drug ever created, met all the celebrities I wanted, had my fill of every kind of demon in hell, and I'm still missing something!" In a moment your fist made it to a wall, making a big hole where your fist landed and lots of cracks.

"I will die and I'm still...looking for something I have no idea what is" broken sobbing mess, that's one way to put your mind in, with cannibals looking at you like you had gone insane and Alastor not knowing what to do.

He made himself appear in front of you, offering his hand to you. Looking up to his unreadable face, you took his hand.

You were going to die? He thought, that sentence alone took something alive that grew next to his heart and rip it apart, how? Why? Was it related to your deal to the princess? If yes could he ask the princess to change it? To make it void? What could drive you to kill yourself if it didn’t?

He continued walking, he attempted to go to the gardens, but then had a better idea.

The shadows surrounded you and Alastor, movement seemed to pass through you, but when everything stopped and your feet hit the ground again, you were deep into what it looked like a swamp.

Alastor's bayou.

"Alastor?" you called for him, his hand was still in yours, but he didn’t faced you. "Is it your choice, to end your life?" no answer, just a nod on your part, "Why?" in simple words, "I can’t bear the pain anymore" he finally put two and two together, "Is that why you didn't wanted to talk to me? To be alone with me?" he carried pain on the word alone, "I didn't wanted to hurt you, and as of this morning I went a little selfish there".

"Y/n" he didn’t knew what to say, how could someone How could he help a suicidal person, when he’s brings death to others? "I gave a lot of thought to find a reason to live, after a while it became senseless" he turned around to see you, "Well I don't mean to be that kind of person, but...how about me?" his free hand made your skin melt, "You don't know what you're asking for".

"Or maybe you underestimate my understanding" despite his adorable face, you had heard that before, "Here we go again, don't try to tell me that suddenly you love me or anything" your laugh only made him scoff.

"Would it be too hard to believe? I do not love you as a fact, I have never felt such a thing except for...my mother" hugging him was the perfect move after mentioning his mother, even knowing how much Alastor appreciates her, even in death.

"Nonetheless, I enjoy being with you, being under your culinary care all these time" not that he knew who cooked, but he always thought it was specially made, "You would eat nothing but rotten meat if I didn't" he lowered to your ear, "I also don't sleep much, so there were a few moments in which I saw you turning my radio studio off and place a blanket over my shoulders" the way he felt you tensed up made him laugh.

"I just… I care too much" he circled your waist, "And this morning, was that just caring too much?" he really needed an answer, as to not regret it. "I told you; I was selfish...I just wanted to feel-" he interrupted you, his breath hitting your lips, "Loved" you went forward, pecking his lips, "Like someone cared for...me".

His staff made a static noise, then music played, the melody brought you a longing feeling, of a time when you waited patiently for his segment at the radio.

“I'll never smile again, until I smile at you” he begin singing, “I'll never laugh again, what good would it do?” he twirled you around, your back then pulled against his chest, “For tears would fill my eyes, my heart would realize, that our romance is through” his voice had moments without his static, sending a thrill down your spine.

“I'll never feel again, I'm so in sync with you” you followed the next line, his cheeks blushing as you did, “I'll never thrill again, to somebody new” he sang, placing a kiss to your temple, “Within my heart, I know I will never start” he turned you around waltzing you around “To smile again, until I smile at you”.

“Within my heart, I know I will never start, to smile again” your voices harmonized, “Until I smile at you” he joined his forehead with yours, “Until I smile at you” then he kissed you, the music turning into soft jazz.

"I hope I laid my intentions properly" he whispered against your lips, "Are you still staying with the king?" Due to his aversion to contact, he didn't really mind you having the extra attention, what did sting his pride was if he tried to win you over.

"I made him a promise so, yes" he hummed, "Is that wrong?" he shook his head, "How about we see to lunch? We can go out or I can cook for you" his alluring tone made you want to strip him, "It's almost dinner time, we might as well cook something for everyone, don't you think?" cooking with you? His tail almost broke a hole into his pants due to all the wagging, "Unless you don't want to" he chuckled, "Lead the way" he placed a kiss on your neck, night on where he bit earlier.

"You're testing my respect for your boundaries sir" he looked at you almost innocently, "Am I? I haven't noticed" you hit him gently on his arm, "Whatever you say, radio love".

-----------------------

Part 9.

Stay tuned ;3

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jackmanbj · 6 months

Text

happy wife, happy life

summary: your pregnancy mood swings are killing jack, he tried everything to get you happy but everything he tried fails.

requested by a lovely anon!💕

jack had just left the house to go get you some food, you wanted to stay home because this baby was kicking your ass.

jadore went with jack to go get your food so she could get some to.

stinka💕-baby what do you want?

you- i told you, canes.

stinka💕- i know baby, what do you want from canes?

you- oh sorry, can i get a 3 piece please?

stinka💕- of course

you put your phone down and started watching me before you.

not even 10 minutes into the the movie, you in tears, but it was to good to turn off.

jack helped jadore into her seat and placed her food down.

he quickly went to go get you so you can eat.

jack opened the door to seen you crying, eyes still glued to the screen, tissue in one hand and remote in the other.

“baby whats wrong??”

jack made his way over to you and wiped your tears off with his thumb.

“nothing..the movie is so sad though jack..” “baby, lets go eat mmh?” “ok..”

jack helped you up and started helping you make your way down the stairs to jadore and your food.

“whats wrong mommy?”

that made you cry even more, just jadore making sure her mommy was ok made you cry.

jadore noticed you starting to cry once again so she hopped out her set as fast as she could and ran over to hug your leg.

you bet down to pick her up.

“mommys ok sweet girl, lets eat eat?”

“yes!”

you brought jadore back to her seat and your both started eating.

“mm jack this is so good, want some?”

jack walked over a took a huge bit of your food and you just looked at him.

“really jack? i dont even want it anymore.” “baby finish your food!” “no! i dont want it anymore.”

you got up and picked up your phone and started walking back upstairs to watch your movie.

a few minutes later jack walked into the room with the word sorry written on his forehead that looked like it was written by a three year old.

because it was.

“read my forehead babe.”

you looked at his forehead and immediately giggled.

“really? i hope thats washable.”

“it is mamas, now do you forgive me?”

“yes baby boy i forgive you.”

jack had the biggest grin on his face as he walked over to you.

he stood on the side of the bed where you were, arms open.

you quickly got up to hug him.

“jack..”

“yes ma”

“i love you.”

“i love you more baby, more then anything in this fucking world.”

jack leaned down to kiss you and you quickly kissed him back.

jack started rubbing on your stomach, bending down to talk to her and kiss her.

jack planted 3 kisses on you before opening his mouth.

“hi baby, mommy and daddy cant wait to meet you, you’re going to be so spoiled by everybody, i love you so much. you have an amazing mom, sister, and uncles.” jack planted a few more kisses over your stomach before looking up to fine you once again crying.

“babe.”

“im sorry! that was just so sweet!”

jack chuckled and pressed play on your movie.

every once in awhile, sad scenes would come up making you cry but jack would always calm you down.

until the movie ended.

you were right expecting the most happiest ending ever.

but it wasn’t, in fact it was the saddest ending you genuinely ever seen.

and you wouldn’t stop crying, lord knows it was just the baby but jack knew it was hormones and the only way for you to stop crying like this would be for you to go to sleep.

“baby how about you go to sleep.”

you shook your head no then got up and went to the bathroom.

“wheres jadore?”

“taking a nap mamas why?” jack got up and made his way to the doorframe of the bathroom.

“nothing, i was just checking.”

you reached for the shower handle losing your balance but jack was quick to catch you.

“unt unt, mamas go lay down, you can shower later fuck that.”

“jack! i wanna shower now!” “no ‘cause you almost bussed your fucking ass, go to the bedroom.”

jack pointed to the room implying for you to go there.

you simply huffed and rolled your eyes.

at this point, you simply wanted to take your shower and relax, but no.

‘just because i was about to fall doesn’t mean im not capable of taking a fucking shower.’

you thought to yourself as jack finally walked into the bedroom to join you on the bed.

“ma.”

you simply looked at him before pulling out your computer.

jack reached over and took the computer out of your lap and closed it, placing it on his side of the bed.

you quickly pulled on his earlobe.

your nails pressing together slightly as jack whined in pain.

“give me my fucking computer jackman thomas.”

“yes ma’am.”

as soon as you let jack go he reached to grab your computer rubbing his ear in pain.

you took a look at jack to realize he was pouting and rubbing his ear.

“aww come here stinka.”

you pulled jack into your chest as he fake cried.

“jack baby im sorry.”

“you almost killed me!”

“dont you think thats a bit dramatic?”

you moved jack curls out the way exposing that huge forehead and kissed forehead before gently placing them back.

“jack your forehead is huge, i hope sarija doesn’t have a forehead like that, i was so happy when jadore didn’t”

“THATS UNNECESSARY! you know what, i hope they dont have your high. since you know, your 5’5 on a good day.”

jack leaned up to whisper in your ear “its never a good day.”

you push his head off your chest while giggling and jack was full out belly laughing.

“are you finally happy ma? youve been crying all day.”

you quickly pouted.

“im kidding babe.”

jack placed a kiss on your lips and you quickly smiled.

“im going take my shower jack.”

“take it in the morning, lets go to sleep.”

“fine.”

you laid down once again slightly agitated, jack reached over to rub your bump and of course you let him but you let out a angry huff

jack realized you were once again upset but decided to let you sleep and not speak on it.

‘im going to have to deal with this the whole rest of this pregnancy’ jack thought as he kissed your cheek rubbing your belly.

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x you #dad! jack

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reallyromealone · 10 months

Text

Back to you part 2

Angst, omegaverse, male reader

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(name) just stared at the blond man holding him close, this is what he wanted for years.

Its what he dreamt of.

But more than anything?

He was absolutely filled with a rage he didn't think was possible.

"Shit--" Mikey was pushed away from him as an angry omega glared at him "I lost my baby because of you" (name) spat out, body shaking not from fear but from everything Mikey's actions had put him through emotionally and physically. "(Name) it was for--" "I dont give a FUCK what it was about, all I know is one day my mate is there and the next hes dead! I HELD A FUNERAL FOR ALL OF YOU! I LOST MY BROTHERS! I THOUGHT MY ENTIRE FAMILY HAD DIED!" (Name) screamed as he pushed mikey back, the Alpha letting him do this because... He knew be deserved this.

"You promised Manjiro" (name) had fat tears rolling down his face "I was holding your grandfather's hand as he passed, did you know that? While you were off doing god knows what? Instead of seeing his last living grandchild he saw the broken grandchilds mate who he abandoned" (name)s voice was venemous as he looked at mikey dead in the eyes. "Those closest to my heart faked their deaths and abandoned me" (name) was now laughing and Mikey never felt fear in a long time but for once?

He was terrified.

(Name)s face went serious as he stormed out and into what seemed to be a lounge "(name), its a pleasure to see you again" Ran said calmly, assuming the poor heartbroken omega would run into his alphas arms.

But he was dead wrong.

"Get the fuck away from me before I burn this god forsaken building to the ground" (name) said coldly as they looked to see Mikey looking disheveled but not in a post sex way, in a he got his ass beat way.

"(Name) we can explain" Kakucho tried to appease the half-feral omega who wanted nothing more tham to beat the ever living shit out of them "I dont need one" (name)s tone was cold "You guys wanted to play crime lord without an omega keeping the boss weak" (name) said simply, it was obvious despite his rage "you guys killed his heir by the way also this piss idea made him look like absolute shit"

"Watch --" Sanzu was cut off with a harsh glare "watch what Haruchiyo? Watch the fact my loved ones live their happiest lives as i deal with the loss of literally my entire family? The child I was going to tell my Mate about when he was supposed to get home? Only to find out he died with everyone else and THEN after years find out oh look theyre alive and living the life of luxury" (name) gave a cold cruel laugh "elaborate to me, what should I be watching?"

They remember how (name) was before they left, sweet and always deverted to Mikey no matter what.

This?

This was a stranger.

A changed person.

A person hurt beyond repair.

"I spent my life mourning a fucking lie" (name) said almost methodically.

"I wasted my life mourning a man who clearly didnt love me"

"I did love you" Mikey was forceful as he grabbed his mates shoulders and looked at him with a desperate expression, the face of a man who wasnt ready to lose his mate "dont you love me?"

"I always loved you" (name)s voice was empty "but I also know betrayal, you betrayed me... You all did"

"And didn't you teach me never negotiate with traitors?"

The room halted as mikey looked at him horrified "you cant leave " Mikey said almost begging "what like how you left me? At least im giving you a warning" (name) fired back and tried to escape mikeys hold but the alpha held him tight.

"Please..." He begged and (name) was cold.

"Where was my chance to plead for you to stay? Why do you always get the options?" (Name) snapped as he started struggling to get out of his hold, it seemed after all these years mikey got stronger somehow.

(Name)s inner Omega pleaded with him to accept their alpha but (name) absolutely refused.

What mikey did was beyond exuse.

(Name)s body went limp as he spoke "after this, I dont think I can look at you guys... At least for a very long time..."

The room was filled with so many negative emotions, it was almost suffocating.

(Name) eventually broke free and wandered to the elevator, the guards looking at Mikey for what to do and the alpha rushed to hold (name) "p-please..."

"Keeping me here wont fix things"

"Please let me fix this...please"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #male reader #bonten x reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x male reader #mikey x reader

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 11 months

Text

You Betrayed Me

Tom Riddle II X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1832

Warnings: Mild Language, Violence, Death, Angst, Sad, Heartbreaking/Happy ending, Baby, etc.

Prompt: After graduating from Hogwarts, Tom begins to go down a dark and angry path. His love for you is questionable, however your main focus is your shared son, Mattheo...

“How is our future dark lord?” Tom asks, stepping into Mattheo’s nursery.

Things have been rocky between the two of us since we graduated from Hogwarts. He was unhappy with his current job and now was on an angry, dark path. I was fine with letting him do his own thing, however I draw the line when it comes to my son.

“Stop calling him that, Tom. He is a baby and even when he is older, he won’t be apart of this.” I say seriously as I continue to rock Mattheo.

“He is my heir, Y/N. He will be a dark lord.” He says seriously.

“What has happened to you? You use to be the man I loved, but now your just a shell of the man I once knew.” I say in disbelief.

“I’m the same man you married.Your just being overdramatic.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Just go.” I snap.

“Do not talk to me that way.” He yells, pulling his wand out and pointing at me.

Mattheo instantly starts to wail, however I couldn’t take my eyes away from Tom. His eyes that once shone with love and adoration for me, now held hate and a coldness to them.

“You would actually kill me.” I say, still in shock.

“I am the dark lord! I will not tolerate your disrespect! You are with me or you are against me!” He shouts.

I look down at the son we share who was screaming louder. I gently shush him, rocking him slightly. This boy needed me. Tom wouldn’t give him the love and care he needed in this world. Tom would do what was necessary to keep him alive while forcing him to do whatever he pleases.

“I will stand by you, but I do not want to be your wife no more.” I say, turning to place Mattheo in his crib.

He was calm now, looking around curiously. He didn’t look as happy as he did before Tom came into the room. I frown, gently caressing his cheek before I lift him enough to place a kiss on his head.

“Look at me.” Tom seethes.

“I love you, Mattheo. So much. Mommy is always going to be here for you, sweet boy. Get some sleep.” I murmur, gently caressing his cheek before I turn to Tom.

“You have betrayed me. Even my own wife can’t stand by me.” He says, tears welling in his eyes as he grips his wand tighter.

My own eyes water as I know what is going to happen before it happens. I didn’t even have a way to defend myself. My wand was put away in my room.

“Tom, you don’t have to do this. Mattheo needs his mother. Please.” I plead.

“Avada Kedavra!” He shouts.

It all happened so fast, the green light filling the room. I stood and looked down at the floor where my body lied before looking at Tom. He was staring down at my body before collapsing to the floor as he sobs. He crawls towards my body, cupping my cheek.

“Wake up…wake up, Y/N! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I lost my temper! I’m sorry!” He cries.

Mattheo starts to wail and I look over to see him standing in his crib, grasping the bars as he stared at me…not my body, me.

“Oh sweet boy. It’s okay. Mommy will always be here, watching and protecting you. Don’t you ever forget that mommy loves you.” I murmur as I step forward and stroke his cheek.

He quiets, looking up at me as he giggles and reaches up.

“Mattheo, what are you doing?” Tom mutters, standing at the end of the crib.

“Mama!” Mattheo cries again as he reaches up.

Tom looks at where I’m standing now, looking confused and lost before looking at Mattheo who was still looking up at me. I push a curl out of his eyes, smiling softly at him.

“Y/N…” Tom mumbles.

“Mattheo! Choose a side! Just know your mother died choosing the wrong side!” Tom shouts.

I frown, watching Mattheo. Choose his side. Choose it.

“Mattheo! Please!” Narcissa pleads.

I smile sadly, she has protected him and raised him. I knew I could always rely on her.

“Issa…” Mattheo pleads.

“Your mother would want you to live.” She says.

“Choose a side son!” He shouts.

“I choose mom’s side!” He shouts back.

My eyes widen before I lunge forward in front of him as the spell casts. Everyone around us gasps including Tom and I knew they could see me. I looked at my hand to see it was translucent. It was like how ghosts in the stories were described.

“Mom.” Mattheo whispers.

I turned around and saw that he was looking at me in surprise.

“My sweet boy.” I whisper, reaching out to caress his cheek.

He leans into my touch, a tear falling down his cheek. I smile softly at him.

“I miss you so much.” He says.

“I’m always with you, sweet boy. And I will always love you and care for you. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” I murmur.

“Y/N?” Tom finally says.

I turn and face him, the smile falling from my face.

“You have lost your mind, Tom. I hoped and prayed that you would stop this reckless path of yours, especially after seeing the way you fell apart after you killed me. But, you’ve lost it. He is our son. I told you that I never wanted him a part of this dark and angry path you’ve paved for yourself. I wanted him to make his own choices. Even if he decided he wanted to follow in your footsteps, I never would let him.” I say.

“Mattheo, you will die just as an agonizing death as your mother.” He snaps and I see that Mattheo was trying to get closer to Narcissa that was sneaking off.

I nod at her and dive in front of Mattheo, taking her wand and pointing it at him. Narcissa’s hushed hurries to both Mattheo and her son, Draco were all I could hear.

“Y/N, move.” He warns.

“Never.” I say.

“You chose the wrong side once, don’t tell me you're doing it again.” He says.

“I’m willing to sacrifice my life, even as a spirit.” I say, my eyes watering.

If I didn’t play my cards out right, Tom would remember some of the old legends about the spirit of a wizard. As a pureblood, magic ran through me indefinitely…even dead. It is what allows me to show myself briefly, however the killing curse triggered something to make me be able to show myself like I was now. This wasn’t brief…it wasn’t temporary…this was permanent.

Tom seemed to be calculating what to do. He was trying to figure out how to get rid of me once and for all. I couldn’t let him do that. Mattheo has me and he is going to need me. He needs to be protected from Tom. Tom still held a place in my heart even after everything. I find myself reminiscing the love we use to both share, before it was just me.

“How are you doing this?” He asks.

“A mothers love is something no one can explain. I knew once I found out I was pregnant with Mattheo, that I’d die for him. He became my world in a heartbeat and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I say.

“Mom!” Mattheo shouts.

I glance over to see him throwing something my way. My wand. I throw Narcissa’s back and catch mine, quickly mouthing “I love you” to Mattheo. I turn back to Tom, gripping my wand tighter.

“Expelliarmus!” We shout.

A green stream of magic shoots out of his wand as a blinding white shoots out of mine. I step forward, gripping my wand tighter as my magic starts to overpower his.

“You are not more powerful than me, do you not forget how you died.” He seethes.

“Don’t forget you played an unfair game. My wand was in the other room. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d be the one dead.” I seethe back, my eyes watching a young boy destroy the last horcrux: Nagini.

His magic begins to overpower mine and I focus on what I’m doing this for. Mattheo’s life. I focus on the anger I had for Tom taking away my ability to raise Mattheo. I focus on the anger of Tom killing me in front of Mattheo. I focus on my pain of loving and hating Tom Riddle.

My magic overpowers him, sending his wand flying out of his hand. I catch his wand, glaring at Tom who looks at his hand that starts to turn to ash.

“It’s over Tom.” I say.

“I’ll be back.” He says.

I step forward until I stand in front of him and I grab his face as I look down at him with a blank look.

“No, you won’t. The dark magic you’ve used and using horcruxes for yourself, has ruined your chance of ever being a spirit. You're going straight to hell, Tom.” I whisper.

“And you say you loved me.” He says.

“I don’t love this version of you. I love the Tom Riddle I was with when we attended Hogwarts. That is the Tom Riddle I am in love with.” I say, stepping back.

I watch as the rest of him turns to ash, looking down at the wand I held. My eyebrows furrow, noticing this wasn’t his wand. This was the Elder Wand. I turn and walk towards Professor McGonagall.

“I believe this goes to you.” I say.

“You always were…have been an incredible woman, Y/N. Go be with Mattheo…and then come back and let's talk about you staying here at Hogwarts.” She says.

I smile, before stepping away and turning to see that Mattheo was already watching me. He breaks into a sprint and I smile, opening my arms up and wrapping him in a tight hug. We sway back and forth, the both of us hugging each other like it was going to be our last time.

“I didn’t realize you were this tall. It’s different when I’m standing here with you and not off to the side.” I whisper.

“Please tell me you aren’t leaving me.” He pleads quietly.

“I’ll probably be joining Moaning Myrtle and the others here at Hogwarts. At least until I move on…but I’m not going to be moving on for a long while.” I say.

“Are you unhappy you can’t move on?” He asks quietly.

“No, no of course not, sweet boy. I’m here with you and that is all I could ever want. The day I move on is the day that you join me on this side…the spirit side. However, I hope that won’t be for a really long time. I hope to see you do many great things, Mattheo.” I say, smiling softly at him.

#mild language #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #harry potter #angst #tom riddle #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #heartbreak #tw death #matheo riddle x reader mom #voldemort #harry potter angst #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

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