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phonydiaries · 6 months

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Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader

Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3

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It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning.

Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night.

You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference).

“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively.

For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table.

His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars.

One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain.

“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page.

The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book.

“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.”

As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters.

It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.

Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him.

“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility.

When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall.

“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him.

Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly.

“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each.

“All gone.”

Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.

“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”

At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark.

“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.”

P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain.

“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really.

By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer.

#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop #so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read #lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd #extremely soft pino #lies of p #lies of p fanfic #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p fanart #fluff #my writing

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roseanddagger-28 · 7 months

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Ultimate Song Competition: One Direction edition

All of Round 1 battles

Please reblog to boost

#one direction #1dsongcompetition #1d round 1 #stole my heart #i want to write you a song

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coolnonsenseworld · 7 months

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(this is part of the calendar 2024 lore, now on pre-order, to know more check out prev posts)

April was Keith's idea of relaxation. He enjoyed parks, the feng shui of them, nature's ability to thrive despite and against anything happening - the silence of it. Watching Keith wind down and relax when he is a strung wire most of the time, would definitely make Lance feel all lovey-dovey and clingy (as he tends to get) and when he’d worry he is disturbing, Keith would comment this is exactly how it should be - the constant yin to his yang, and the yang when he feels yin.

Also - both shirt and hoodie are Keith's (he has way too many hoodies with quotes). Lance took the hoodie for Keith, but Keith insisted he won’t get cold, so he wore it himself. On the way home Lance funds Keith the biggest sushi serving he could find on the menu, and, believe me, nothing lights up Keith's eyes like a table full of rice and algae. Lance just watches with a soft smile. (Keith does end up getting cold)

#klance #laith #i dont wanna jinx it but im 12k words draft deep #not danceau danceau is third on my list im sorry #but if i dont get hex off my chest im gonna deteriorate #im so lost in the narrative ToT i missed writing so much #i just want to listen to chill songs and make up silly banter #speaking of chill songs i was today years old when i learned RY X full name #i was actually checking his date of birth bc his songs are so sensitievely dramatic i thought he is pisces #he is not #but now that x makes a lot of sense #you gotta check him out now its imperative and you are welcum

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clockwards · 8 days

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truly genuinely fascinating watching s3ep20 House Training with the Wilson stuff. He really is just like that. Hes genuine. He takes women to lunch and plays and museums and does it with a smile on his face and not an ounce of bad intent. And he does it again. And they fall in love because he's so affably kind and senselessly caring and he blinks those big brown eyes at them and lets it happen. He lets it happen. He does know what he's doing. Because he is all about other people's love, other people's pleasure, and just like House he finds some eternal, niggling curiosity about /why/. So he figures it out, he follows this new woman's footsteps and lays out the red carpet until theres nothing left but a thread.

There is one red thread Wilson pulls to make everything and it is connected straight to House. Tug of war, babey.

#im going feral #i want to write fanfiction of them i hate them so much it will be religious and named after a mitski song #do you know how insane i have to be to name a fic after a mitski song?#this affliction hits thousands of ao3 authors every day #never thought id be the one in the medical tent #god. christ. anyway.#house md #hatecrimes md #hilson #gregory house #greg house #james wilson

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uhohwhathaveidone · 1 year

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I'm on me knees begging for a Sebastian x Slytherin reader

Your wish is my command <3

Lay Your Head on my Shoulder (S.S)

A fluffy fic, not angst like yesterday! Reader is gender neutral, with no gender roles applied. (No they/them!). No spoilers for this one either! Just three friends being buddies (Two of them are in love with each other and the other one just enjoys listening to them banter). I hope you enjoy! I'm off to grab pudding now <3

The moment you came into the sorting ceremony, hair a mess and outfit covered in dust and dirt, Sebastian knew he wanted to get to know you. How many times do new students show up late for the ceremony? Even more, how many students show up to Hogwarts in their fifth year, and late! He watched you hurry to the front of the room, too busy to see everyone’s eyes on you. He nudged Ominis with his shoulder, whispering, “They’ve got to be a Slytherin. What other house would show up late to their own sorting?” Ominis furrowed his brows in confusion, he didn’t know there was someone late coming in. Sebastian watched, mesmerized, as the sorting hat was placed on your head. He couldn’t quite hear what the hat was saying, but it looked like he was really pondering which house to put you in. “Oh well, it seems like you will be a good fit in Slytherin!” Sebastian smiled in triumph and applauded alongside his fellow students, watching you as you walked down the small steps and following Professor Weasley.

“This is your common room, the Slytherin Commons. Here, you will get to know your fellow housemates. I’m sure you will find what little items you brought with you on your bed.” Professor Weasley said, motioning to the wall. You looked in awe and confusion as the two serpents moved smoothly along the wall and formed a door, welcoming you in. You nodded in the direction of the professor and stepped inside. The room was dim, and the walls were cobbled, like a basement or a dungeon. You looked around, taking in the details around you before making your way to where everyone slept. You passed by a student, who pointed you in the direction of where your bed would be, and you headed over. “What little items you have” was an understatement. All you really brought was yourself and the clothes on your back, but on your bed lay a bundle of green and black, your uniform and robes.

Once you had gotten changed and comfortable, you ventured out and back to the commons, given the task of talking to those in your house. You had only made it to the opening of the big room when Sebastian showed up by your side. “Hello there, I’m Sebastian.” He held his hand out, and you took it. He pointed to the figure behind him, “This is Ominis.” You looked past Sebastian, finding the boy who only waved. You told them your name as Sebastian led you to one of the couches. “So, tell us. Were you actually almost swallowed by a dragon?” Sebastian asks, a smile on his lips. You nodded softly, still looking around. “How did you manage to do that?” You could only shrug, explaining, “It just appeared out of the sky. It chased us and eventually bit our carriage in half and then knocked us out of it.” Sebastian looked at you in wonder, his chocolate eyes twinkling. “How did you survive? Surely you were high up, there would be no way someone would have survived a fall like that.” You shook your head, pressing a finger to your lips. “That’s a secret.”

You became quick friends with Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian had accompanied you on your trip to Hogsmeade to get new supplies, and even bought you a few items, ones that he swore you needed, but you could tell they weren’t part of the supply list. He even invited you to join his dueling club, after you sent him to the ground during your first duel, one that he called a “Proper Hogwarts Welcome.” You walked over to him and offered your hand, and he gladly took it. In that moment, he asked you to join the club. You had accepted, of course, what better way to practice spells? Sebastian also wanted to help you catch up on all that you missed to make sure you were prepared for the O.W.L.S. That was when Sebastian suggested a study group, and invited Ominis to join you.

You turned the page and picked up your quill, jotting down information that you deemed important as you read. You looked over to Sebastian, who had gone off topic talking about all the times he tried a simple bubble charm, how they would burst within a second, and how he couldn’t figure out how to make it work. “You’d think it would be easy for you, since you’re already a bubble brain.” You joked, putting your quill down. Sebastian turned to you, lips formed into a pout. You were sitting next to each other on the couch, the same one he had sat you down on to bombard you with questions on your first day. He swatted at you, missing as you scooted quickly away. Sebastian turned his head back to Ominis, trying to continue his conversation, only to be met with Ominis silently holding a laugh at your comment. “Not you too, Ominis!” You took this moment to pick your quill up once again, pointing the feather in Sebastian’s direction. Quickly, you jumped him, using the feather of your quill to tickle him where he was vulnerable, his neck. “Hey!” Sebastian proceeded to try to take your quill away, grabbing at your wrists and poking you in the sides, causing you to let go. “Aww, no fair.” You pouted, watching Sebastian place your quill far away so you couldn’t reach it. “This is completely fair, and besides, you started it.” He said, smirking. You huffed in response, “I need that to take notes.” “Should have thought about that before you went and lost your quill privileges.”

You had settled down, stuck reading from your book and trying to memorize what you were reading. You constantly looked over at Sebastian, hoping to find a moment where he was preoccupied so you could grab your quill back. Each time you looked over, however, Sebastian met your eyes. A faint warmth spread to your cheeks each time and you buried your nose back into the book in your hands. Sebastian smiled softly each time you would hurry to get back into the book, continuing to read aloud the chapter you were going over.

“So, this transfiguration spell says that, if used correctly, you could turn a teapot into a…tortoise?” Sebastian read out, confusion written all over his face. You looked around, searching for a teapot. “I don’t see one anywhere. Perhaps we could use something else?” You asked, leaning over Sebastian’s shoulder, to look at the picture on the page. Sebastian was grateful that you were more interested in the book than anything else, or you would have seen his face light up at the sudden contact. “We could use Sebastian. He’s like a teapot, no?” Ominis offered, a smile growing on his face. You nodded quickly, pushing Sebastian against the back of the couch and raising your wand. “Wait! Why me? First off,” Sebastian started, eyes wide. “I am nothing like a teapot!” You raised an eyebrow, “But you made us tea just a bit ago. That’s the same thing.” Ominis nodded, taking the moment to reach for his own tea. “Precisely, this tea in my hand didn’t magically appear.” Sebastian scoffed as he turned his attention back to you. You had stood up and moved in front of him, book in one hand and wand in the other. “Let’s see…so I wave my wand like this.” You flailed your wand up, squinting to read the next step. “Can we just talk about this? I really don’t want to be a tortoise, even for a moment!” Sebastian panicked, unsure if you were actually willing to cast the spell on him.

Ominis took a sip of his tea, brows furrowed. “There’s another spell about it, so we should be able to turn you back pretty quickly.” You nodded as you turned the page, looking for the other spell. “Hmm. No, that’s how to turn a teacup into a tortoise. I don’t think you can actually turn the tortoise back into a teapot once it’s done.” You spoke, looking closely at the page. Sebastian sighed in relief. “Oh well. We could keep him as a pet.” You said, closing the book and readying your wand. Sebastian had to think quickly, it didn’t seem like you were pretending anymore. Quickly, he lunged forward and grabbed you by the waist, throwing you onto the couch and stealing your wand. Ominis sat there, tea still in hand, listening to the commotion, not quite sure what was going on, but the shriek you let out and the sound of the couch being disturbed told him you probably had been taken down. “I refuse to be your pet tortoise!” Sebastian shouted, throwing a pillow at you. Covering your face, you shouted back, “We would feed you three times a day! And make sure you actually took baths!” Sebastian paused, another pillow in his hand, raised. “What do you mean “Actually took baths”?!” You laughed to yourself, finding it rather funny that he took offense to such a small statement. “Probably because you smell like ash. All the time. Like you take ash baths or something.” Ominis quipped, placing his tea down. Sebastian scoffed, dropping the pillow. “I’ll have you know that I do bathe. I just naturally smell nice!” He sat down, arms crossed. You sat up, moving the pillow he threw at you and putting it behind your back. “Sure, you do.”

You grabbed your book once again, flipping to the page you were on. “Hey, Sebastian?” You asked, looking over to the still pouting Slytherin. He huffed in response, turning to you. You put on your best smile, and used your favourite tactic against him; puppy dog eyes. “Can I please have my quill back? Please?” You asked, looking directly into his eyes. He stuttered, and you could have sworn he blushed, but that meant that it was working. “Uh- you- yeah, sure.” He handed your quill back and you thanked him, patting his head teasingly. Ominis hid a smirk, knowing exactly what had just happened. You happily held your quill and began writing down information once again. Sebastian sat, stunned. He cleared his throat and turned back to his own book.

You had been going through the chapter for what seemed like hours. Your eyes had begun to get heavy, and you stifled a yawn as you put your quill down. Sebastian had begun trying to explain another spell, which was puzzling him, yet again. Another quiet yawn, you scooted closer to look at his book instead. Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. Your eyes grew heavier as you struggled to keep them open, opting to rest your head on Sebastian’s shoulder to keep you upright. Sebastian noticed this and stiffened up. This could be one of your pranks, he thought. He continued to read out the spell incantation.

“Titillando, says it’s a tickling hex. You better watch out, you never know when I’ll hit you with it now that I know it.” Sebastian joked, raising the shoulder you had rested your head on. You didn’t respond, shifting a little bit instead. Sebastian waited for you to say something back, the only sound now was the crackling of the fire in the hearth. “Hey, did you hear me?” He asked once again, titling his head to hit you with his own. You sniffled in response, burying your nose into his robes. Truth be told, Sebastian was probably the one that made you fall asleep. Not because he was boring, oh no. He had a calming voice, and although you had teased him earlier about baths, you had to admit that he did smell nice. Those two factors, paired with the mixed warmth of the fire and body heat from Sebastian, knocked you out in minutes, breathing softly as you dreamed about whatever your mind could come up with.

Sebastian froze, now aware that you were asleep, worried that any movement he may wake you. As if headbutting you didn’t do the trick, surely if he even breathed too hard, you’d wake up. He took the moment to look at your face. He watched as the light from the fire danced on your skin, and how your cheek had squished against his shoulder, the sound that you made now that you were practically suffocating yourself after shoving your nose deeper into his robes. He let out the breath he was holding, slowly relaxing his shoulders. He took a final look at your face before turning his head back to Ominis. “Asleep, typical.” He said, turning the page. “Anyway, where were we?”

The next morning, you met Sebastian and Ominis at the door of the common room, ready to make your routine walk to the dining hall. Sebastian led the way, not taking much of a moment to look at you. Still groggy, you brushed it off, walking next to Ominis and yawning. “For someone that fell asleep in the middle of our study session, you still seem to be tired.” He stated, smiling. You furrowed your brows, “I fell asleep during our study?” Ominis nodded, pointing to Sebastian. “I’m pretty sure you fell asleep on Mr. Tortoise. He had to carry you up to your bed last night.” Your dormmates must have helped him find your bed; your cheeks heated up at the thought. You thought back to before you fell asleep, a foggy image of leaning on Sebastian to look at his book forming in your mind. Your cheeks grew hotter at the realization. You were quiet the rest of the walk to the dining hall.

Taking your seat next to Sebastian, you reached for something to eat. The food of your choice just so happened to be on the other side of Sebastian, and you took a moment to formulate a plan. You could just ask Sebastian to grab it for you, or just get up and grab it yourself. Or, you could be annoying and try to reach over him, in turn causing you to probably embarrass yourself, and probably Sebastian. It was the perfect plan. Taking a breath, you leaned up against Sebastian, reaching across him. He stiffened, eyes wide as you turned your body and put your head back on his shoulder, using the arm that was now next to Sebastian to reach farther. You smiled and hummed in triumph as your fingers curled around your target, retracting your arm and turning back in your seat. Sebastian stood there, stunned. You continued to smile as you began to eat. Regaining his composure, Sebastian fixed his robes and cleared his throat. “If you needed me to grab something for you, all you had to do was ask.” He said, keeping his face turned from you to hide the red that had taken over his whole face. You hummed in response, taking another bite. “And miss a moment to have a pillow? Not a chance.” Sebastian shook his head and finally turned his head towards you. “You can just ask, you know?” You titled your head and raised an eyebrow. “Ask what?” Sebastian took a moment to collect his thoughts, before finally breathing out, “To lay your head on my shoulder. I won’t complain.” You smiled, taking the moment to do just that.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #x reader #slytherin reader #ominis gaunt #hogwarts au #hogwarts legacy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #fluff #for some reason spotify wanted to play ALL of Taylor Swift's songs while i wrote this #i stimmed quite a bit writing this #writing fluff just makes me giddy for some reason #Thank you steven for stepping on my laptop while i write this

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sadmages · 4 months

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Well sure maybe he was one of the orchestrators of the evil absolute plot that's going to end the world but you don't have to be so meanies to him :(

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #karlach cliffgate #bg3 durge #bg3 spoilers #durge spoilers #my art #rogier-posting #THEY ARE SO MEANIES TO HIIMMM #karlach that morning: you are more than your parents :) karlach right now: I KNEW IT. GET AWAY FROM ME #and his wizard boyfriend....... oh rogier #going through it. he just wants to write songs!!!!!

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alastorsfuckassbob · 3 months

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Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #im knawing at the bars of my encloser #Me writing Al in the present challenge: IMPOSSIBLE #this is so short im sorry #also was not expecting many people to read these so thank you guys i love you #you best believe the shitty song fic titles are coming back next chapter #youre meeting him and having a big ol fight next chapter i just dont want yall to be happy ig

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