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honeybadger16 · 1 year

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Honey Badger in the Lion's Den

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader x Dan Riccciardo

Warnings: smut, threesomes, fmm, swearing

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: Maxiel is real, prove me wrong. Let me know what you think about the pairing, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Being the girlfriend of Max Verstappen has its perks: traveling all around the world, attending luxurious parties, and grabbing the attention of a certain Australian driver who can't stop staring at you and Max.

You and Max had been dating for two years, and enjoyed every second of it. From traveling around the world to attending the most luxurious parties, Max made sure you were always comfortable and happy during the busy racing season. For him, most weekends consisted of tough practice sessions and grueling workouts.

You made it your mission to help him relax when necessary in order to prevent burn out. This consisted of massages or venting sessions before bed. If it was a particularly bad day rough sex in the bed or shower was usually the solution.

This weekend you arrived in Australia, just as Max and Daniel were doing media duties. You couldn't imagine any serious answers were given as the two drivers loved to mess with other during interviews. Watching the two interact from a screen there was no denying Max's boy crush on Daniel. This had been a long running joke online between fans, but it wasn't far from the truth. Max had been idolizing Daniel since they first met, and considered him a best friend. Max would never tell a soul, but whenever his imagination ran loose, the idea of Daniel on top of you made his pants get tighter. He thinks to himself it's wrong to imagine his girlfriend with another man, but it's just a harmless fantasy right?

Australia had been a total disaster for Max, not finishing the race due a gas leak was the last thing any driver wants on Sundays. Daniel had finished 6th, a respectable position considering he was driving in a shitty McLaren tractor-like car. Max was still in a bad mood as night fell on the racing city. Most drivers wanted to go clubbing and celebrate their earned points, including Daniel.

That's when the two of you heard knocking on the hotel door around 10 P.M. Opening the door you find Daniel's signature smile pulling you into a hug. "Hey y/n I haven't had a chance to say hi all weekend, how are you?" You responded by giving him a recap of the shops you visited and the restaurants you tried- his recommendations of course. Max hadn't looked up from his phone, not in the mood to match the Australian's cheery mood. "Are you guys coming out with us? The club we picked has the best champagne."

Max responds by telling him he's too tired to go out tonight and to have fun without him. Daniel could see through Max's bullshit response and looks over to you for an explanation. You shrug your shoulders not exactly sure what to say. Usually when Max had a rough race, him fucking your brains out helped him feel better. That's when you thought of an idea to cheer up Max. It was risky and could ruin one of the closest relationships Max had, but you were positive it would exciting.

Leaning closer to Max, you whisper, "what if we let Daniel watch as I suck your cock?" Max turns quickly around to face you, turning red in the cheeks, "what?" You snake your hand to palm his crouch, already hardening. You turn to face Daniel who's eyes glaze over with desire as he stares intently at the two of you sitting down on the chair nearby. "I think he also wants to watch me take you in my mouth."

Kissing up Max's neck, you unzip his pants and continue to palm his hard cock through his boxers. Max had given in to the pleasure and began making louder noises in response to your touches. You could hear the zip of Daniel's pants as he takes his semi-hard cock out beginning to slowly stroke it.

You decided it was enough teasing for one night and helped Max take off the article of clothing that was separating your mouth and his cock. He was already painfully hard, his tip was colored brightly red, begging for some sort of relief. You began at the bottom licking the shaft and taking his balls in the hands, avoiding the head. "Fuck-please take it all in y/n." You could see how much pre-cum had collected on top of his cock and collected it all on your tongue.

Max soon becomes confused as you get up and walk over to Daniel. He can only watch as you sat on you on one of Daniel's thighs and connected your lips together. After releasing your mouths apart you ask, "How does Max taste?"

"Like fucking Heaven" Daniel is quick to putting his hands on your shirt tugging it off of you. He was pleased to see you opted for a braless outfit as he began to fondle your breasts, kissing you once again. Max began to notice your hips moving against the Australian's thighs, in an attempt to give your clit some attention. Your hands found Daniel's cock and began rubbing him until he was fully erect.

Max thought he had died and was in his personal Heaven, this scenario only played out in his head when he was jerking off by himself, giving him the most intense orgasms. Yet, here they were, his girlfriend and best friend making out as Max got unbelievably harder. He could see y/n whispered something to Daniel as they both got up to remove the remaining pieces of clothing they both had on.

You came up to Max, while Daniel came from the back. Stroking his cock Max let his head fall back onto Daniel's chest. "That's it baby keep going" You however had another idea. You took one of Daniel's hands and placed it on Max's cock, molding it to go up and down the shaft. Max opened his eyes and began grunting louder turning to face Daniel. The two began to make out as Max was reaching closer to his orgasm. Daniel's lips tasted like the pre-game vodka he drank before he knocked on their door. Even though the taste of alcohol lingered on Max's lips he could get drunk on the feeling of having Daniel so close to him only. Why hadn't they done this sooner?

You removed Daniel's hand and instructed Max to lay down as you climbed on top of him and began rubbing his cock on your wet pussy. Finally, you push yourself down, having to adjust to his size no matter how many times you take him inside you. Riding on Max's cock you take Daniel in your mouth moving up and down. Sounds of moans and grunts could be heard as the three of you reach closer to the end.

Max moves his hips at the same time as yours to reach into deeper and faster. Max's cock curves perfectly into you pushing on your walls as you bounce on him in a faster, more desperate pace. He takes his fingers and rubs your clit, "come with me y/n." With the combination of Max deep inside you and stimulation on your clit, you explode first, Max following soon after. The two of you feel as Max's cum fills you up to the brim.

Daniel grabs your head and brings it down on his cock until your nose pressed against his abdomen. "Shit I'm going to cum." He pulls you off and releases his cum onto your lips and face, groaning as waves of pleasure ripple through his body.

You pull off of Max when Daniel puts you on your back, legs open towards him. Max's cum had started dripping out of you when Daniel began licking at your pussy. Throwing your head back in pleasure you couldn't believe you were close to cumming again so soon. He stuck his tongue inside of you licking up all of Max's cum and swallowing it. You finally reached your end as you tugged on Daniel's dark locks and made eye contact with him. As you rode through your second orgasm of the night, you noticed Max had gone to the bathroom and brought water and washcloths for the three of you.

Still breathing hard, you sat up on the bed and accepted the water giving a soft thanks, while Daniel helped clean you up. The room was silent, but comforting. Daniel and Max put on their boxers once more, while you wore one of Max's shirts. In the middle of the bed Max welcomed the embraces of both you and Daniel. He first kissed you also whispering a soft thank-you. He turned to Daniel and kissed him tenderly as the older man accepted the show of affection. Cuddling up all together the three of you drift to sleep, not worrying about the questions you would receive the next day from the other drivers about your absence.

#max verstappen #max verstappen smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #maxiel #maxiel smut #max verstappen x reader

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libraryoffandomsuniverse · 4 months

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Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's husband would include:

Masterlist

Okay this is my 3rd time uploading this, because tumblr was being a whiny bitch. This turned out much longer than I expected and I'm already planning on writing more in this au. I combined book and show canon, although I kept the Velaryons as black. I also renamed some of Rhaenyra's children and gave her 1 more.

This is not team green friendly or kind to Alicent. At all. Reader is a petty bitch who adores his wife and whose love language is murdering their enemies in various secret ways.

Warnings include murder, forced infertility (Viserys), Rhaenyra and Reader scheming for the throne.

You're the oldest son of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon. Greatness is in your blood.

You're proud - how can you not be? You're the oldest son of the Sea Snake and The Queen Who Never Was, the heir to High Tide and the next Lord of Driftmark. You're the second rider of Silverwing, after Queen Alysanne. You are cunning and clever - everything your parents could wish for in a son. You have a lot to be proud of.

After fighting in the Stepstones and being knighted, you emerge as one of the chief candidates for Rhaenyra's hand.

The brothel incident still happens in this au and Rhaenyra still sleeps with Criston.

When your betrothal is announced, you both agree to do your duty. And although you aren't Daemon or Criston, you are still handsome and a warrior. Doing her duty will not be difficult for Rhaenyra.

You quickly fall in love, much to both your surprise. Rhaenyra falls first, your loyalty and ferocity in defending her sneaks past her defences.

You fall harder, her wit and hidden darkness, the type that matches yours, pulls you in. Her soul speaks to yours and feels familiar on some level.

By the time Jacaerys is born, you're incredibly happy and in love with each other.

Your darling boy is quickly followed by Lucerys, Baelon, Aegon, Gaemon and eventually (after a few years) your twin daughters Visenya and Aemma.

Your royal apartments are rarely quiet because of your children. They adore their mother's hugs, love to hang off your shoulders and follow you both around the Red Keep like little ducklings.

Being the best dressed couple in Westeros. Rhaenyra likes it when you match and often coordinates your outfits to do so. Sometimes it's matching her dress to your doublet, other times it's more subtle like you wearing ruby beads in your locs to match the precious stones in her bodice. It makes her feel like you're on a team and she knows you feel the same way, judging from the little smirk and raised eyebrow you give her when you see her and the maids going through your wardrobes.

You and Rhaenyra love to gossip together. It mainly happens in bed after you make love. She tells you the latest rumours her ladies in waiting told her and you reveal the scandals you heard from your manservant and squires.

You encourage her to be more visible to the common folk. You know that if she has their love, then any attempts to usurp her will fail. Your little family becomes regular fixtures in King's Landing as you explore the city and restart Queen Alysanne's charitable ventures. Rhaenyra starts heading sessions for women to raise any issues.

You know it's working when you hear people talking about the Realm's Delight and the Sea Dragon and praising your efforts in improving their lives.

The sight of you both racing your dragons high in the sky is a frequent occurrence. It started as a way to unwind after the small council meetings. As your family grew, your children joined in, strapped into yours or Rhaenyra's saddles. When they grew old enough and their dragons were big enough, they followed you on theirs.

Dividing your time between Dragonstone and the Red Keep, although visits to Driftmark are also regular events.

Laenor frequently pops in to visit and spoil your children.

Corlys and Viserys both compete to be the favourite grandparent, but you and Rhaenyra know that Rhaenys is the real favourite. For the sake of peace, you won't reveal it.

Despite Daemon and Laena staying in Pentos, you keep up a regular correspondence with them. You even arrange to meet in Driftmark with your children a few years into your marriage. Your children bond quickly, while the adults watch on and tell stories.

Being married to the heir to the Iron Throne isn't easy and there are many people who would see that Rhaenyra never becomes Queen.

As her consort, you consider it your duty to make the path easier for her.

Your first victim is Criston Cole. After murdering Joffrey Lonmouth, you expect him to get punished. The news of Queen Alicent accepting him as her sworn sword leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, particularly when you have to break the news to Laenor.

Along with your pride, one of your greatest attributes is how protective you are of your loved ones. Joffrey was Laenor's lover as well as one of your good friends.

It takes a little while to plan, but one day gossip erupts about Criston being found drunk in a brothel that's particularly debauched, even by the standards of King's Landing.

You seize your chance and tell your goodfather that perception is important, that such a knight like that cannot be allowed to guard the royal family, especially the Queen. Viserys ignores Alicent's protests and Criston is gelded and sent to the Wall.

Speaking of Viserys, you know that any sons he has will be pitted against your wife.

You also know that his health isn't very good.

You decide to help him by giving him a tonic that your mother swears by, along with some lotions and creams. "Two drops of this with your morning meal every day and you'll soon feel better, Your Grace," you persuade him. "And wouldn't it be wonderful if you could meet your future grandchildren?"

Your father told you once you could sell water to a fish, such was the power of your silver tongue.

Viserys' health does improve after taking the tonic and the lotions that are massaged into his skin fix most of his pains.

However you failed to mention that the tonic and lotion both have herbs which cause infertility if used over long periods of time. Your mother only uses the tonic, and does so sparingly.

Viserys and Alicent only have Aegon and Helaena as a result of your actions.

You and Rhaenyra work hard to charm lords and ladies to support your cause.

You go on progress across the realm, flattering and courting all the noble families you meet.

It quickly becomes known that to be one of Princess Rhaenyra's ladies in waiting is a boon for attaining a fortunate marriage. In turn, you surround yourself with ambitious lords and their sons who want to advance their own interests.

It's a delicate dance, but you were taught how to make alliances by your parents, plus your charisma and ability to speak to anyone makes you one of the most popular members of the royal family.

Any attempts Alicent makes to gain allies for her son are countered by you and she can't stand you.

She tried to make Rhaenyra bring Lucerys to her when he was born, but you shut that down. "I wasn't aware that the Queen was in such poor health that she couldn't come herself to meet the newest member of our family," you say with a mocking smile. "The King is already coming to meet his grandson and I'm sure he would wish for Her Grace to join him." The sour look on the Queen's face when she finally arrives, only to find Viserys holding your baby boy, is a sight you'll remember for weeks to come.

You're Rhaenyra's greatest weapon and she despises how popular you are. You weren't supposed to be this politically adept, your children weren't supposed to be that lovely and polite and Rhaenyra was not supposed to be the heir when Viserys already has a son.

She says so to Larys Strong, who decides to do something about it without telling her.

You survive the pathetic assassination attempt because of a loyal servant.

Rhaenyra finds out what happened and she is furious. When she finds out Larys did it? He's a dead man walking.

His body is found in a secluded corridor at the bottom of the stairs. It's fairly obvious that he slipped and fell in a tragic accident - the servants had only finished cleaning and polishing those stairs the day before.

You thank your wife for avenging you with a sapphire necklace and several rounds of insatiable sex that eventually results in your son Aegon being conceived.

Unfortunately Lyonel Strong takes this as his chance to resign as Hand and return to Harrenhall, something you and your wife are unhappy about. You will miss him and his unwavering loyalty and fairness.

You miss him even more when you find out Otto Hightower is returning to King's Landing to be Viserys' Hand again.

The return of her father emboldens the Queen, although you and Rhaenyra are more than a match for them, both during the Small Council meetings (which you are Master of Ships) and outside them.

Eventually though, you decide to take care of the problem, although your wife cautions you to be careful.

A year after becoming Hand again, Otto Hightower is dead. His health had been declining for some time, even before he returned to King's Landing, but the poison you'd had your spies slip into his furniture and clothing certainly made his end quicker.

You knew he had a food taster, so you had to be careful to make it appear natural. A quiet conversation with Daemon had pointed you in the right direction.

Although it appeared to be natural, you knew that Otto's last days were a living hell. A fitting end for such a man.

With his death, you recommended Viserys make Lyonel Strong Hand again or even name Rhaenyra to be the Hand, as preparation for her future role.

His decision to name Rhaenyra as Hand is one of the only good decisions he's made.

It gives her more experience in governing the realm, particularly when he starts to become more frail.

After several years of this, she is confident in her role. She will be a magnificent Queen and you're truly honoured to be her consort.

#not team green friendly #male reader imagines #black reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd imagines #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #my writing

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flowerandblood · 9 months

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The Moonlight Ray (2/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, obsession, incest, toxic jealousy, death threats, domination ]

[ description: When his beloved Persephone returns to him after nine months of separation they reunite in joy and growing closer to each other. However, three months of their happiness pass all too quickly, and when he has to accept separation with his wife again he discovers that Adonis, the young man with whom Aphrodite herself has fallen in love, has been watching his wife in the bath. Dark, tocically possessive and obsessive Aemond. ]

At the request of my readers and as a gift to celebrate 2k of my followers I wrote the second part of The Evening Star fanfic, but it can also be read as a stand-alone story.

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He didn't know the feeling of longing before her, he didn't know the feeling of despair or suffering, he didn't know that it was possible to wither each day with uncertainty while clinging to hope.

He did not believe that when the nine months she was to spend with her mother had passed she would return to him, to his dark, cold caves, to be locked of her own free will in his stone prison.

Although he did not believe it, she returned to him.

She came back to him and gave herself to him, and he took her, sinking deep into her body, filling her with his seed, understanding at last why men wanted so much to be husbands to their wives and have them all to themselves.

The only feeling that was more powerful than his love for her was his jealousy, his greed, his possessiveness.

When she stayed with her mother among the fields and meadows he cared that his envoys, bats, owls and snakes made sure that no men dared to look at her, let alone approach her, speak to her, try to touch her.

Any such bolder, charmed as he was by her infinite, shining beauty and sweetness, ended his life miserably, blinded or bitten by his servants − he watched with satisfaction as the souls of naive human boys thinking they had the right to ask her for her hand floated down the wide, pale streams of the Styx.

She was his alone.

To his satisfaction, his envoys reported to him each day that she did not seek the pleasure or attention of any other men, spending her days with her nymphs on bathing and playing, helping her mother bless the crops.

He decided to reward her for her devotion, for her faithfulness, and once he held her in his grasp he did not let her go for five days and five nights, alternately caressing her with his hands, his lips and his length, discovering the secrets of her soft, warm, feminine body.

He knew that his sister, the Goddess of Love and Desire, after he had rejected her efforts, would not help him understand such a complicated matter as female fulfilment, so he decided to discover for himself the path that led to it, exploring her body with his corpse-cold lips, seeking the places of her greatest pleasure.

He found that a sweet, innocent sounds erupted from her chest as he sucked and licked her nipples, that a soft sigh left her lips as he kissed her long neck − however, it wasn't until he sank his face between her thighs, it wasn't until his tongue tasted her moisture, his lips brushed her folds, that he realised he had found his way to her ecstasy.

He ate her like a greedy madman, recognising that her juices were more delicious than ambrosia itself, smelling of her and her arousal, her desire he craved so much − his lips licked and sucked her pearl, and then his tongue slid deep between her slick folds, driving her body into convulsions, pathetic, loud mewls erupting from her throat, her trembling hands clenched on his hair.

"− please − that's enough, husband − please −" She begged after each fulfilment, which he brought her to with painfully slow, deliberate flicks of his tongue and lips, watching her with delight, taking handfuls of her sweet reactions, her vulnerability, her awareness that she was dependent only on his will.

He hummed with amusement not long after her intense rapture starting his arduous work all over again, already noticing what movements of his lips were bringing her to spasms, making her fall apart in front of him − he lifted himself slowly on his arms, her eyes dark and misty, her whole body trembling with exertion in his hands.

"− please − please −" She whispered pleadingly when he turned her onto her stomach and he knelt behind her on the bedding, lifting her buttocks higher. Her mumbling turned into loud whines as he slid his fat cock deep inside her, all hard after what he'd done to her, his hands clenched on her hips, his thrusts deep, sharp and sure.

Ever since he had discovered what delight lay inside her, what a blessing it was to fill her to the brim with his seed, he hadn't been able to hold back − her entrance was all moist and sticky from her earlier fulfilments, their bodies slapping against each other with a loud, lewd splat.

"− what was it again? − you can't take it after you left me for nine long months? −" He hissed out in fury, pumping his swollen, hard manhood into her with fast, aggressive thrusts, holding her hips in an iron grip, panting loudly along with her as he felt her core clench against him in panic, overstimulated and tired.

He pressed his lips together, biting his lower lip as he saw her open her mouth wide, her body adorned with droplets of sweat, her yellow flowers primly woven into her hair scattered around her head.

"− uncle −" She mewled pleadingly and cried out loudly, simultaneously suffering and taking pleasure from this aggressive, perverse act of two naked bodies colliding with each other, her moisture trickling down her thighs.

"− I'm here, Persephone − your husband is by your side −" He exhaled with a kind of tenderness and care, not slowing down, racing his own fulfilment approaching faster and faster with each brutal thrust into her hot, fleshy interior.

When she came she almost screamed his name, writhing beneath him, clenching her hands on their bedclothes, convulsing − he tilted his head back, groaning and panting loudly, finally achieving the fulfilment he craved, filling her with himself.

When he decided that he was satisfied for the moment his wife was trembling all over, looking up at him with her lips parted, her gaze dulled, warm, tired, fulfilled. He laid down beside her, turning his face towards her, and touched her cheek with his icy-cold palm.

"− Persephone −"

Ever since she had returned, ever since she had freely chosen to be his, he had noticed a satisfying change in her that filled him with pride and desire.

She wore his gifts, his dark robes and gowns embroidered with pearls, jewels and rays of light, a crown of golden laurel leaves on her head.

She agreed to be his Queen.

Queen of the World of the Dead.

The underworld as she passed was suddenly filled with a warm glow, his servants at his request obeying her every command, being at her every whim.

He demanded that her throne stand next to his, that she not stand beside him during the audiences, but could sit by his side, equal to him.

Her words, filled with compassion and understanding, made him show his visitors grace more frequently than usual just to please her; looking at her from the side, seeing her smile of contentment, all he could think about was how much he didn't want to give her back to her mother.

Was he not trying hard enough?

Why should she leave him?

His joy and fulfilment began to give way to frustration and uncertainty with each day bringing them closer to her leaving once more. One night, after he had come hard inside her after hours of caresses and the wonderful, tender passion of two lovers this question self-consciously ripped from his throat.

"Will you leave me again?"

She looked at him surprised, the soft smile of fulfilment changed to a concerned, confused expression − she touched his cheek as if she sensed that what she was about to tell him would enrage him.

"My beloved … after all, you know what I promised my mother." She whispered quietly. He pressed his lips together and rose in fury, putting on his black robe hastily, tying it hurriedly around his waist.

Seeing that he wanted to leave her chamber she lifted herself quickly, all bare, with only a golden wreath of leaves on her head, and she stepped in his way, placing her hands on his cold, naked chest.

"− please − please, my dearest, do not stop me again −" She mumbled pleadingly, and he clenched his jaw, looking at her with rage and hatred.

"Do not fret. I will not." He hissed, sidestepping her, opening the door with a loud thud, leaving her terrified, hearing her loud, helpless cry.

Though she tried to besmirch him with her touch and presence, he could not look at her, knowing that she would leave him again, that he would again forget what her body looked like, her scent would fly from her chambers, her throne would remain empty.

"Every wife on earth and in the heavens leaves her home to be united with her husband, yet I must share you with your cursed mother." He growled in anger, pacing around his chamber as she came to him again begging him to speak with her.

She lowered her gaze at his words, all pale, not daring to interrupt him.

"Still, if it were a fair share! Nine months with me and three with her, or even six months with me and six with her! But by what right do you spend a greater part of the year with her than with me? Why do you allow it and make me accept it?" He asked coldly, darkly, low, from deep in his throat, feeling that the water of the Styx and the screams of the dead flowed through his veins.

"The earth won't have time to yield crops. When I am gone she falls into despair, there is winter on the land, everything freezes and dies. People will starve." She whispered with difficulty, looking at him pleadingly, wanting him to understand.

"I CARE NOT! LET THEM STARVE, LET THEIR BODIES ROT, LET YOUR MOTHER AND MY SISTER CHOKE ON HER AGONY AND DESPAIR, I CURSE HER!" He thundered in a tone so cold, terrifying and cruel, the ground shook around them, dust and ashes sprinkled from the high ceilings of the caves.

His Persephone looked at him trembling all over and burst into sobs, running out of his chamber − he was panting heavily as he led her away with his eyes, and then he cursed loudly and growled like an animal, burying his face in his hands.

All he wanted was for her to stay with him.

He visited her that night, enveloped her in warm furs, slipping underneath them to lie down beside her, pressing her against his naked body. She didn't push him away − she let him lift her thigh gently and explore her warm, moist womanhood with his hand.

She let him take her, let his length fill her to the brim, let him move inside her with slow, calm thrusts of his hips. He brought her to fulfilment with the circular motions of his fingers around her bud, whispering in her ear that she was his curse, his doom, his madness and the object of his endless desire.

He filled her with his spend several times that night, taking her tenderly and slowly, once apologising and once demanding her repentance for driving him to despair − she sobbed in his arms with helplessness and pleasure, peaking again and again, confessing to him her boundless, most sincere love.

"− once a month, when the full moon lights up the night sky we will meet where you saw me for the first time − I fled then from my mother when she slept, and I will flee for you to sweeten our separation −" She whispered and he felt the heat spill over his heart.

Roused by the sudden passionate feeling he kissed her greedily and took her once more.

It was easier for him to bear the thought of separation when he knew that he would not have to wait nine months to see her again, but one.

Counting down the days, he laid in her bedding, surrounded by her scent, thinking about the warmth of her bare body, about the moans that flowed from her lips like a sweet nectar.

As promised, on the night the full moon fell, he left Hades − his body was filled with anticipation, he felt a tickle in his fingertips and a burning desire in his loins.

It had been so long since he had touched her.

He did not recognise himself or his behaviour, catching himself with rage that around her he was like his brother, emotional and pawing, endlessly thirsty.

He shuddered when he heard the rustling of the grass, his wife, his lover, his Evening Star was walking towards him between the century-old trees with a light, peaceful step, a smile full of joy and warmth beamed from her bright face.

He licked his lips as he looked at her with satisfaction, seeing that she had chosen a robe of such fine material that he could see the whole outline of her body perfectly − the fabric shone with a pearly lustre in the starlight, her hair partly braided at the back of her head, partly loose, in her locks the same blue flowers as when he saw her for the first time.

"Could it be that the Moonlight Ray has finally illuminated my endless night of longing?" She whispered softly, her swollen, moist lips parted slightly.

He felt her words in his manhood, which pulsed aggressively under the material of his black robe − he looked down at her with eye full of thirst.

He wanted to devour her.

He threw himself at her, pressing her to the ground wet with dewy grass and flowers, tearing her beautiful robe to shreds, exposing her naked body in front of him − she moaned in surprise, trying loudly to catch air in her lungs.

Her body arched backwards in a convulsion as his length slid suddenly between her thighs, pushing her throbbing, hot muscles to their limit.

She was so wet, she was clenching so hard against him that he gasped loudly, and immediately began to root into her, making them both pant with pleasure, his hands on either side of her head looking at her beautiful face.

"− take it − take what your husband is giving you −" He hissed slamming into her with quick, sharp, brutal thrusts of his hips − she whimpered beneath him, her tight, hot walls sucking him inside.

She gave herself fully to him, spreading her thighs wide before him in a gesture of submission, experiencing ferociously intense fulfilment with him.

They spent the whole night together, amidst the rustle of grass and leaves, the light of moon and stars, gazing on their faces, lying naked, hidden from the world.

This time it was she who begged him before dawn not to leave, to stay with her a while longer, but he did not listen to her pleas, wanting her to feel what he felt, to experience a substitute for his suffering, although his body screamed for him to take her once more.

Their monthly meetings sweetened the goblet of bitterness of her absence, and although he could not bear the emptiness that filled the underworld without her, he appreciated that at least in this way they could experience relief.

He thought that, like in the stories of people that were passed down from father to son, they met like forbidden lovers, taking solace in each other's arms.

When word reached him that a human youth had captured the heart of one of his sisters, Aphrodite, the same one he had refused years before, he was not particularly bothered, knowing her nature and how easily she changed the objects of her affections.

This Adonis of whom he had heard so much was supposed to be a beautiful young man with big, brown eyes, his black hair curly and shiny, his body built no worse than Hercules or Ares himself.

However, when one day his servant reported to him that Adonis had been seen in the company of his wife and her mother, that from the shrubs he had watched his Persephone bathing, he felt an anger he had never known before in his life.

His rage did not allow him to wait until the next full moon.

His envoys reported to him where Demeter and his wife were staying to rest with their nymphs and Adonis himself.

He came there at night, when everyone was asleep − his steps was followed by a translucent blue mist, enveloping the sleepers with a faint scent, leaving them incapable of being awake for as long as he wished.

He did not allow the smoke to reach his wife's nostrils; with a gesture of his hand he commanded the clouds to change direction so that they avoided her body, clad in a white, half-transparent robe.

He stood over her, looking at her thoughtfully, then lifted his gaze and noticed Adonis sleeping nearby under a tree, facing her, as if he had fallen asleep looking at her.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, recognising that he would deal with him later.

He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of her body − his hand with a light, sure movement reached into the material of her robe and untied it. She shuddered all over, awakening from a deep sleep, terrified and wanting to scream, feeling that someone had exposed her body, so he covered her mouth with his ice-cold hand.

"− shhh −" He hushed her reassuringly when she finally looked at him, her gaze turned from horror and fear to disbelief and joy − she wanted to embrace him but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her wrists.

"− husband − what are you −" She mumbled, shocked and flustered by his presence and squealed quietly as he lifted her up and turned her back to him, gripping her hip with one hand and her neck with the other. He squeezed her cheeks with his fingers and directed her face to the young boy sleeping before them.

"Handsome, isn't he? I heard he has two beautiful dark eyes. If you find them pleasing, I can gift them to you." He whispered in her ear and she trembled all over at his words, her hands tightened on his arm, her breathing quickened in terror.

"− no − I would never − ah −" She cried out quietly as she felt his fingers slide between her thighs with uncertain, soft movement checking what state she was in.

Her lips parted wide and she involuntarily reached back to grab his hair as the tip of his finger began to tease her slit with a sticky, loud click of her moisture.

"− no? − my wife is a little liar, isn't she? −" He hissed low, sliding his finger deeper into her hot core, overpowered by jealousy and rage at the very thought that she might have wanted anyone else, that her thoughts might have been occupied with another men while he thought only about her.

"− I'm not − I'm not, my beloved −" She uttered with difficulty, involuntarily rising and falling on his finger, seeking any source of friction, panting quietly, despite her terror her walls throbbed with arousal.

"− did you let him look at your naked body? − I know he tried to watch you in the bath −" He growled icily, sliding his finger out of her, untying his robe and directing her to the tip of his manhood, feeling that he couldn't wait any longer, that he had to take her, had to show himself and her who she truly desired.

"− no − I didn't - I didn't know − I swear −" She mumbled and parted her lips, letting out a loud, helpless cry as he thrust his length into her so deeply, that he felt like he was going to pierce her stomach.

He covered her mouth with his hand, licking his lips, feeling her walls clench on him greedily.

She sobbed helplessly into his hand, panting loudly along with him, her gaze hazy, absent, stupefied with pleasure, her hand clenched in his hair allowing her to keep her balance as she rose and fell on him with a loud click of her moisture, his lips pressed to her ear.

"− be quiet − if you wake him up with those sweet sounds, and he sees me take you − sees your naked body − sees your husband sink into you − I'll have no choice but to put his eyes out before I kill him − that would be a huge pity, wouldn't it? − such a handsome face −" He hissed, slamming into her with brutal, deep, fast thrusts of his hips, teasing a spot hidden deep inside her fleshy core.

"− that's right − take me like a good wife you are − take me and maybe I would let him live − would you like that? − would you like your pretty little boy? −" He growled with rage while accelerating aggressively, his hand from her hip slid between her thighs, in circular sharp strokes squeezing her pearl, his other hand pressed against her mouth, muffling the high pitched, pathetic sounds coming from her throat.

With each thrust he stretched her slick walls to the limit, panting along with her, his face pressed against her cheek, her scent wonderfully filling his lungs.

He felt her fingers suddenly tighten on his arm, trying to remove his hand from her mouth – he lowered it and she turned her face towards him, their lips, their tongues, their teeth found each other in a lustful, brutal, greedy kiss, her hand clamped tighter on his hair, holding him close.

"− only yours −" She gasped in the passionate, aggressive dance of their lips and tongues. "− I'm only yours −"

He groaned low into her throat, his manhood twitched hard inside her, demanding to be relieved and fulfilled.

"− I'm going to kill him − I'm going to kill him for you −" He breathed out darkly, low, pounding his length into her with all strength he had in his hips.

She came at his words, aroused by his jealousy, by his possessiveness, moaning loudly into his mouth, her core began to clench against him in pleasure; her body trembled all over as his length slid in and out of her through her elation, refusing to let her come down from her peak.

He felt her throbbing walls squeeze his seed out of him and gasped, sinking his face into her neck – he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, focused only on his own pleasure, his fulfilment.

They were both breathing fast and unevenly, trembling with overstimulation – her hand let go of his hair and stroked his face tenderly, her nose and forehead pressed against his cheek.

He sighed quietly, glancing at her, and then they kissed passionately, tenderly, sucking and licking their lips with a soft click.

He pulled away from her, running his fingers over her beautiful, gentle face, in her eyes exactly what he wanted to see.

Love as infinite as the darkness of Hades itself.

He kissed her cheek tenderly, running the tip of his nose over her soft, hot face, his lips traveling to her ear.

_____

"You can choose how he will die."

Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to write part two, I love this couple and the atmosphere of mythology surrounding them, unmistakable and very poetic. I hope you like it as much as the first part.

Aemond Taglist

@dc-marvel-girl96 @its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @verena-targaryen-writes @talesofoldandnew @happinessinthebeing @travelingmypassion

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dark-and-kawaii · 3 months

Text

The Pet Names

╰› Raphael carries himself with a supreme level of self esteem, and should you be the one who captures his attention, be prepared for endearments as rich as his most exquisite wines. You are not merely his "little mouse" anymore, no you’ve become something much more significant now.

Little Mouse <- Still his favorite

My Dearest

Love

Eternal Bloom Of My Soul <- When he’s in his poetic mood

My Queen

My Duchess

As Raphael leads you onto his grand floor, the lost soul in the corner playing the violin ever so diligently. With a graceful step, your devil draws you close moving in rhythm to the music, his voice a tender whisper, his breath warm against your ear. He murmurs one of these cherished names he’s given you, and oh how it makes the rest of the world fade away in your mind, leaving nothing but the two of you, swaying in a moment meant only for you.

╰› Haarlep is a demon, an incubus, hence it's unrealistic to anticipate endearing pet names at every moment. Nevertheless, it's evident how much Haarlep has developed an attachment to you, and that shows when they slip with something sincere.

Little Dove

Delectable Delight/Treat

Pet

Darling <- Always says it with a smirk and a chime to it.

Play Thing

Brat <- Haarlep loves when you call them a brat as well

Pretty Little Fuck Toy

Bitch In Heat

Bunny <- Haarlep finds it cute because they could devour you whole if they pleased. You’re the perfect little prey for them.

Regardless of the array of belittling names bestowed upon you daily/nightly, you consistently find Haarlep at your side, some form of him always touching you as if to show others you are indeed theirs- a silent declaration of possession. And when Haarlep can’t be around you they wait impatiently on your bed, their tail flickering about restlessly. And once you show yourself, the incubus always strides over towards you seductively, their tail snaking around your thigh to bring you into his chest so that his wings can envelop you.

“Oh, come now, my little dove, must you always wander away for so long?” They lament with a playful pout, “You know every second you’re gone, I’m here wasting away in a sea of sheets without my favorite delectable treat.” They draw you closer, their embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Consider a poor incubus’s heart, won't you? It’s quite cold without you here warming me, afterall.” Haarlep coaxes, their plea wrapped in a cheeky yet sincere veneer of need as he nuzzles against your cheek tenderly.

╰› Zevlor is a grown man, not a mere boy. He holds you in the highest regard, adores you, treasures you, and is prepared to go to any lengths for your sake. His nicknames for you may seem straightforward and unadorned, yet they are laden with affection and are so endearing that they leave you wanting more.

Darling

Sweetheart

My Dear

Beloved

Beautiful

Each night, just before you drift off to sleep, Zevlor tenderly cradles your face and gently presses his forehead to yours, whispering one of these cherished names. As he draws back, he reassures you with a reminder not to fret over him while he's out safeguarding the city. He promises that, regardless of what happens, he will return to you, ready to envelop you in his embrace as the day concludes.

╰› Rolan is new to pet names, so he’s not necessarily used to this. You’re his first serious relationship/first person he’s ever taken real interest in. But believe me when I say, it doesn’t take long for Rolan to get used to calling you special names. With a voice dripping in self assuredness, Rolan would call you:

Dear

Sweetheart

Pest <- It’s never malicious though

Angel <- always says it with a smirk

Fiesty Little Flirt

Cheeky Brat

Troublemaker/ Trouble

As you entered his dimly lit study, you could smell the scent of old books and melting candles within the room. Rolan feels a shiver of delight as you wrap your arms around him from behind. You could feel how his tail encircles around your waist, pulling you firmly against his back, anchoring you to the warmth of his body. Before you could rest against him he spun within your embrace to cradle your face, “Has my troublemaker come here to lure me away from my duties?” Your cheeks flushed deeply as you simply nod. "How greedy of you," he whispers just as he claims your mouth with his.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #Raphael #bg3 raphael #tav #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #rolan #rolan bg3 #haarlep bg3 #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav

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hyuckkaiji · 9 months

Text

only mine - sebastian sallow x f!reader

summary; " sebastian has been on the run for several years, hiding from the ministry of magic. his sole purpose is to find you again. he's obsessed and no one can stop him from having you again. no one. " he's finally found you, alone in the dark. pt.2: my love / pt.3: ominis , pt.3 sebastian

word count; 4.7k

warnings; 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, dubcon, porn with a plot, dark!sebastian, sub/dom dynamics, cheating/infidelity

note; this is based on dark!sebastian ai created by @seabass-swallows characters are obviously aged up, early 20s. Also this is my first time actually writing smut, so be kind

You were fifteen when you lost the love of your life. You were fifteen when he ran from the ministry. "A dark wizard, a fugitive, rewards for his capture" words you could never forget hearing. Words that were repeated in whispers by students, commands by aurors.

"You will tell us if you hear anything?"

"Of course, Sir." It was a lie. You would never give Sebastian up, even if you did know where he went. But you didn't. He was there one day and gone the next. No one knew where he'd disappeared to, not that the aurors believed you when you said as much. How could his lover not know where he went nor his best friend? They thought you and Ominis were lying.

They watched the both of you for months, the only two left that the Sallow boy trusted. His sister, Anne, had succumbed to her curse well before he ran. He had nothing and no one but two other fifteen year olds, two other children.

All of you only really had each other, but three had become two. And fifteen had become nineteen when Ominis took you to wife. You didn't love him, not like you loved Sebastian, but he was all you had. You had latched onto him for so many years, telling yourself you could love him. One day, possibly.

So you married him, always telling yourself the day would come. But nineteen turned to twenty, then twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. And here you stood, loving him no more than you did at fifteen.

You watched as he sat anxiously, drumming his fingers against the hard wood surface of your dining table. The dark suit jacket discarded, his vest open, his shirt a few buttons loose as his other hand pulled free his tie.

"Do you find me incapable of defending myself?" You snapped at him. You were always snapping at him these days, his presence no longer a comfort but a nuisance. A cage you willingly walked into. A choice you wished you could take back.

"No," He sighed, standing as he pulled the vest and tie off, walking a few steps forward to hold your face in his warm grasp, "I just-"

"Worry." You push his hands away, turning your back to him . "Yes, I know. You worry. You've worried your whole life, and you'll never stop."

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his body strong and solid as he presses against yours. He brings his head down to rest at the crook of your neck, pressing soft chaste kisses. You lean back, resting your head against him. A comforting, relaxing gesture, not your comfort, but his.

"It's a dangerous world." He whispers the words into your skin. You give an involuntarily shudder in response. "It's just tea, Ominis. This is Feldcroft. Nothing is dangerous here."

He turns you to face him, his arms snaking around your waist. He looks down at you into your eyes, like he can see your soul, like he has a different kind of sight. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, a move to ease him, to stop him from further examining. Lest he sees the lack of love, the falsity of your touches.

You press a kiss to his soft lips, "Just tea, husband, I'll be back before you know it." He nods, "Be safe, wife." A pause, "I love you."

You pull yourself free of his grasp, "I know Ominis, as do I." You grab your coat, hurrying out into the chill spring night before he could say anymore. You had never told him you loved him, never said the words outright. It would be a betrayal to Sebastian, to yourself, to Ominis.

You suppose he must know you don't love him, you hope he doesn't love you, hope he's lying every time the words pass his lips, you wish he'd stop saying them. You feel so guilty every time he does, guilty, as you only hum in response or reply with the words you conditioned yourself to say.

Your thoughts and actions shame you constantly. He deserves better. You know he does, but you just cannot bring yourself to be the woman he deserves. So round and round you go, playing this game of pretend where you both lie to yourselves, to each other, pretend to be the good auror and his loving wife.

You could no longer even love him as a friend. You haven't been able to for years. You lost that comfort the first time he bedded you, the first time you felt him inside you, filling you with painful, unfamiliar sensations.

You waited till he slept that night to sneak away, to sit in the living room of your new home and sob yourself to sleep. He heard you, though he never told you, he woke as soon as you left the bed, trailing behind you silently. He sat in the hallway listening to your soft sobs for hours, listening until you could cry no more tears. He went back to your bed and never said a word about it. He woke you the next morning with a plate of hot steaming breakfast.

It got better, as good as it could be. The routine you fell into, what was painful became pleasure, you stopped crying after every encounter, started sleeping beside him instead of the couch. Spent your mornings beside him, kissed him before he left for work. Welcomed him home with open arms in the evenings.

Until you couldn't take it anymore, until every false kiss chipped away at your soul. Until you screwed your eyes shut, picturing Sebastian's face every time Ominis was inside you. Until you spent every waking moment fantasizing about running away, praying one day Ominis just wouldn't come home. But he always did, and you kept welcoming him. What choice did you have? You have nowhere to go, no family, and Ominis didn't deserve to come home to an empty house.

You don't know how long you walked. You just walked until your thoughts silenced themselves. You had lied to Ominis as you so often did. Not leaving for tea with a friend but just leaving to be away from him and that god forsaken house. You walked until your face felt numb, and the moon hid away, leaving you in pure darkness. You should go home, Ominis is definitely worried.

But the thought of laying beside him again made you want to claw at your skin. Hands grabbed you, pushing you up against the nearest wall, their grip on your shoulders firm but not painful. They say a persons response to danger is fight of flight, but you just stand there frozen in fear. "Please don't hurt me." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"Oh, how I've missed you. I would never hurt you." The voice coos at you, deep and husky. The hands sliding off your shoulders to trail down your arms. You recognized the voice, though the years had altered it, you could never forget it.

"Sebastian." You gasp

"Yes, my love." He pulls out his wand, casting a spell that only dimly illuminates the dark expanse around you.

He looks like a different man, a hardened criminal, but you can still see the traces of the boy you knew underneath. His baby fat has melted away, leaving only muscle in its wake. He had grown several more inches, towering over you now. A dark shadow of a beard begging to grow clings to his jaw, his hair is longer and shaggy. Most notably, a scar runs in intricate swirls from just below his left eye, across his cheek, and midway down his neck. Only dark magic could scar a person as such.

"Get off of me." You attempt to pull your arms from his grasp, but he holds tight. "Have you not missed me, y/n? There is no need to be so hostile." He leans in, his warm breath fanning your face, it smells of cinnamon toast, sweet, just like when you were children.

"Do not touch me." You are afraid, afraid of this stranger, this man before you is not your Sebastian.

"I have spent years waiting to touch you again. You're mine, mine to touch how and when I see fit. Do you truly expect me to let go?" His voice holds no malice. He speaks as if these are mere facts.

"I am a married woman. Get off of me." You continue to struggle, to no avail. Sebastian pauses, pulling away slightly but not releasing you.

"Married?" The word sounds venomous coming from him, "To whom?"

"Ominis." A look of pure disbelief washes over Sebastians face. "You..." His tone is accusatory. He takes a few steps away from you, letting his hands fall to his side, "You ... married ... Ominis."

You shrink back in fear. A soft, quiet anger far more terrifying than a fiery rage. "How could- why?" You can see the way his hands slightly tremble as they ball into fists.

You contemplate saying nothing. Imagining your response may only make this worse, but after a beat of silence, you decide to speak anyway. "He was all I had." You confess, still silence, so you continue.

"After you ran, after your actions came to light and aurors spent months at the school waiting for you. We became pariahs. Me more than Ominis. People whispered about me, about you, about me loving you, knowing what you did, lying about where you were."

"He stayed by my side through it all, the only one I had, have still. After we finished school we were wed. All these years, and he's the only one that shared my loss, understood it, understood me." A means to your end, your salvation. Ominis always puts you first. You don't think he'll ever stop.

"This isn't real." Sebastian is muttering to himself, shaking his head, looking to the ground instead of you. You should run. It might be your only chance, but your legs refuse to obey you, staying glued to the spot, pressed against the old stone wall. "You said you loved me!"

"I did!" You raise your voice in response, hurt, anger, betrayal, old long buried emotions bubbling back to the surface. "I did love you, I wanted to be your wife, I wanted to spend forever with you. But you ran, you left me all alone, Sebastian." Tears are streaming down your face, "I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you but you left me."

You close your eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Ominis, you need to get back to your husband. Ominis, you repeat his name like a prayer, willing him to appear, to save you, to take you home. Ominis, your poor sweet husband. But he doesn't appear. You have no savior. Only the fugitive standing before you.

"Tell me something." His voice is soft, like he's speaking to a frightened animal. "Have you had his children?"

"No, of course not." The words leave your mouth without a thought to how they might sound, what they might imply. Sebastian only sighs in relief.

"I don't understand," He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, brushing away the tear streaks with the pad of his thumb. "How could you have moved on. What... what we had ... it was special." You look up into his eyes, and for a moment, a split second, he was your sebastian. Your sweet, sad Sebastian.

"Tell me you don't love him," he whispers, only inches from your face now, "Tell me y/n. You cannot possibly love him like you love me."

"I do, Sebastian. I love him. He's my husband."

"He's nothing." Sebastian is gripping your face in one rough hand, so hard you worry it might bruise. He's gone. This is not a man you know, this is a stranger. A stranger that frightens you, a stranger that's hurting you. "You belong to me. Our connection is special."

"Please stop." Your tears beg to fall once more.

"Tell me you still love me."

"I love Ominis." A lie, though in this moment you wish it were true. You wish you had stayed home, crawled into bed with him. Felt his cool fingers brush along your skin, felt his warm mouth press kisses into your most sensitive parts. Let him find his release with your body, use you until you fell asleep in the safety of his arms.

"You still love me, I know it." He lips brush the shell of your ear as he speaks. You shut your eyes again, trying to picture your home, safe. But the smell of Sebastian settles on your senses, he smells the same as he did so long ago. "I do not love you." Is that a lie, you aren't certain. "You... you are terrifying me." That at least was true.

His hand finally leaves your face, coming to rest at your elbow as his thumb rubs soothing circles, "Oh but you do. You can't escape me."

"Kiss me my love, like you did all those years ago. All I ask is one, grant it and I'll allow you to run back to your husband."

You look at him, searching his gaze with your own. "Promise?" Your voice trembles , Sebastian nods in response.

You take a steadying breath, pressing both hands against his chest. You push him back both of you moving a few steps, just enough for you to stop feeling trapped, just enough to feel the cool night breeze.

You look up at him as he brings his hands to rest at your waist. This is your sebastian, your sebastian, you tell yourself this over and over trying to banish your fear. You raise to the tips of your toes, bringing your hands up to wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You ghost your lips over his, feeling as his breath hitches, allowing him to pull you into his chest before your lips meet. It's soft, a kiss of longing, a kiss of lost children. Then it's deepening, passionate and he pulls away before you're ready. He pulls away and you chase after him, one hand at the crook of his neck and the other buried in his hair. You pull his lower lip between your teeth, dragging his mouth back to yours. Only pulling away when you need to breathe.

You let you head fall against his chest, let yourself breathe in his scent as he runs soft fingers through your hair, both of you breathing heavily. Only a second passes before you regain your senses, before you remember the husband waiting for you. You pull back quickly, "I-" guilt and shame course through you.

Ominis deserves better, a better woman, a woman that loves him. It's been eight years, eight years since sebastian left you, eight years you have used Ominis as a means to your ends. And never have you felt such desire for him as you feel now in this dark alley with a man you no longer know.

"This is wrong." Your words are barely audible, when you get no response you take the opportunity to run or try to run. Because Sebastian has his arms around your waist, catching you before you could even make it five feet.

"Why are you here?" You cry. But he only holds you in place as you kick, claw, and try to bite your way out of his grasp, to no avail. "You said I could go back to my husband, you said one kiss."

Sebastian chuckles darkly, "I lied." Then he's dragging you away, three feet, four, six, ten. It's dark, and you can't see, but quickly, he's shoving you through a door. You land on your hands and knees as he releases you. You scramble away, still on the floor just trying to put distance between you and him. Sebastian only laughs, walking over to the fading fire place, he tosses in a log before taking a seat on the sofa.

He splays out, legs falling open, one bent for him to rest a hand on and the other straight ahead , his left arm thrown over the top of the sofa. His black button down shirt is loose at the top, opening just enough to expose a glimpse of his collar bones. His dark trousers strained at his thighs, where his right hand thrummed mindlessly.

You eye him wearily, waiting for his next move. "Are you my pet now, love? On the floor, at my feet?" You say nothing. He only bothers to glance at you, so sure you won't try and run again. Or maybe just that he knows he can catch you if you do. "Are you waiting for my instructions, pet?"

"Come sit with me." He continues to watch the crackling fire and you continue to stare at him. "You once called this place your second home. Do you hate it now?" You didn't look, didn't notice but now you do. You take in the room around you, the home he dragged you into. His home, Anne's home ... Solomon's home.

Sebastian huffs, loosing patience with you. "Join me, y/n. I will not ask again." He leans forward his elbows at his knees as he watches you. "I do not care if you must crawl over here, do it or I will drag you here myself."

Ominis, Ominis, Ominis you wish he could sense you call out for him. That he would save you from this madness as he did so many years ago. But this house has sat abandoned for eight years, Ominis hasn't step foot in here for eight years.

So you take your only option, standing slowly dusting yourself off in the process, trying to muster some false dignity. You walk over sitting as close to the edge as you can manage, attempting to put as much space between you as possible. But Sebastian is much larger than you remember and seated in the middle you could sit no where without feeling his leg press against yours.

"I've know since the moment I first laid eyes on you, we were destined to be together." You watch him but his gaze reminds fixed on the fire, now back in his comfortable position.

"I belong with Ominis." Sebastian gives an exasperated sigh, tossing his head back to rest on the sofa, though he's tilted just enough to meet your stare. "I know you want me, just as I want you. You may fool yourself into thinking you're happy with Ominis, but I know."

You aren't happy with Ominis though, you know that. You know you've never been happy with Ominis. That's why you left tonight, isn't it. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, incomprehensible.

Sebastian grabs you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You don't fight back this time, why have you been fighting this, trying so hard to get back to Ominis. Isn't this exactly what you've been dreaming of for years, fantasizing about every day. Sebastian let's out a satisfied hum as you settle into his lap, one hand resting on your knees the other holding your hips in place.

"I told you, I could feel it. The love you still bare me." His lips are at you neck pressing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin. "I know how badly you craved me, my love. I craved you just the same." He pulls your coat off. "How I missed you."

You're like a statue, not fighting but giving in just yet. Sebastian continues his assault none the less. Nimble finger undoing your blouse as his teeth nip at any exposed skin he can find. You don't attempt to stop him as he tears chemise straight down the middle, leaving you exposed to him.

His gasp is soft, his tone loving, "You're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined." He's tearing the ripped material free from your body. Moving out from beneath, he sits you on the sofa and kneels before you. "I hate that he had you first, touched you, tasted what's mine."

He ghosts his fingers over chest, his thumb coming to brush over a pert nipple. You shudder, "I am not yours, I-I..." You catch his hand in yours, pulling it away from your breasts, holding the one in both of yours.

"You're not Ominis'." No, he's right. You stare at his hand, your thumb stroking over his knuckles. "Tell me you don't want this, want me." He's not asking, he already knows your anwser.

He pushes your skirt up so it rests just below your hips, pulling you in with a rough hand at the nape of your neck and the other gripping you waist. His lips are against yours, angling you to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth slightly, allowing him to intertwine his tounge with yours. The soft moan that emits from you is involuntarily, a sound that only urges Sebastian on.

He pulls you into a standing position, his mouth never leaving yours. You let your hand travel the expanse of his clothed back, contured with muscles he didn't have before. "Take this off." He hooks a finger in the waistband of your skirt, letting it snap back against your skin.

He takes a seat, watching you with hungry eyes as you follow his command. You stand before him, exposed as you have only ever been exposed to Ominis. "So fucking beautiful." His words are nearly a growl.

"Tell me where you belong?" You pause at his words, there is no going back now. "With you. I...I always belonged with you." He hums, satisfied with your anwser, "Be a good girl and kneel."

Your knees hit the rug beneath you with a soft thud, you steady yourself with a hand on Sebastians knee. Your heart hammering away in your chest with anticipation of his next command.

"Tell me you still love me." His voice is low and husky.

"I still love you, I never stopped." A shameful confession for a married woman, but you didn't feel that. All you could think about was how hot your skin felt, flushed and begging to be touch.

He leans in, letting his breath fan your face. He's looking at you like a beast ready to devour its prey. "I told you, you belong to me. No man will ever compare."

"I belong to you." You whisper back, you mean it. You've been his since the moment you met. And all you want in this moment is him, every part, to show him how much you missed him.

"Prove it..." he says quietly, his gaze dark, "I expect you to treat me like a God. I am your God." He chuckles softly, "Aren't I, pet." He brushes his thumb over your cheek, a falsely sweet gesture. When you don't respond quickly his hand drops to your breast, harshly twisting an erect nipple. "I said, aren't I, pet."

"Yes, yes." You yelp, "You're my God." You should be ashamed, kneeling before him, groveling like this. But it's so different from what you're used to Ominis touches are soft, gentle, with your pleasure at the forefront of his mind. This, Sebastian, makes fire burn inside you, sending waves of shock to your core.

"Show me how much you worship me." He releases his rough hold on you, leaning back expectantly. You crawl your way onto his lap, breathe hitching as your exposed core makes contact with his clothed bulge.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, you make quick work of unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, even popping a few of them in your haste, causing Sebastian to let out a breathy chuckle. You feel like a woman gone mad, more beast then witch. Your body aching to be touched, bitten, marked, filled by him. You need it like you've never known need before.

He shrugs the loose shirt the rest of the way off, displaying this pale freckled chest. If there is a heaven, this is it. From his skin flushed a pale pink to the trail of soft hair leading down into his trousers.

You kiss every part of him you can reach, sucking angry red splotches into his skin, teeth sinking in at some parts like he's the last meal you'll ever eat. His chest is falling and rising in rapid breaths as he fights to maintain his composure.

"You're so wet. I can feel it soaking through. Is that all for me, pet?" His voice is low and rough, the words forcing their way pasted gritted teeth. You said nothing, only rocked your hips against his, your mouth still marking his abused skin. The moan he let's out is sinful.

"I can't." You don't have time to wonder what he means before he's flipped you onto your back. "Sebastian, my love." He's between your legs, already licking a strip up your aching core. He hums his approval, "Even sweeter than I imagined."

You buck your hips, chasing after his mouth. "Tell me what you want, pet?"

"You" is the only word you can muster.

"Big girl words. Details. Did you fantasize about me when you fucked our friend, fucked your husband?"

You whine, feeling pathetic, fully at his mercy. "Every night I was in his bed, I pictured you. Your mouth Sebastian, your hands, your cock inside me. It's the only way I can finish." You're panting, he so close to where you want him, where you need him, his breath alone sends waves of pleasure that leave you shivering.

Then he's delving in like a man starved, lapping at your core like it's his last meal. Pleasure racks your body with intensity you've never experienced, you can do nothing but cry out and tangle your fingers in his mess of brown curls.

You see white before you feel it, the coil snapping deep in you. Your body tensing as he draws out your orgasm with a skilled tongue before you drop, heavy and unable to move. But he isn't finished, he's waited far to long for him to be done now. His pants are on the floor, discarded with a kick. His cock springs free, lightly slapping against his stomach. Angry red tip already leaking.

You can only look at him, too weak to move Yourself. So he moves you around himself, picking you up like a loose limbed doll, his to do with as he pleases. Laying you gently on the rug, legs hiked up around his waist. He leans in pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before finally sliding into your wet, willing hole.

The sound he let's out is animalistic, almost a snarl. "Fuck y/n. I dreamed of this. You," his hips are snapping against yours in a rough motion, "you were made for me. Taking me so well, pet."

He finds his rhythm with a bruising grip on your hips holding you in the air, a string of curses and incoherent pleas tumble out of your mouth. "Fuck fuck fuck, seb, my, please, fuck seb."

"My pretty girl."

He wraps an arm around your back to keep you in place, bringing his other hand to rub quick circles into your swollen clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, body tensing as another orgasm tears its way through you.

Sebastians hips stutter as you clench around him, shooting hot thick spurts into you. "I'm gonna put a baby in you, love." He's rolling his hips against yours, drawing out both your pleasure. When he finally stops you both collapse, too tired, too drained to do anything but lay in his arms and listen to his heart beat.

"I should have taken you with me. I promise I'll never leave you again." You should have told him no, you still have a husband to go back to but you only hummed. Letting yourself fall into a fitful sleep with the sound of Sebastian's heart beat and his fingers running through your hair.

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alle-ni · 9 months

Text

My thoughts about goodomensverse (I'm clinically insane) (my personal opinion) (long post)

Book Crowley:

- absolute disaster

- lonely boy

- grumpiest

- he's so in love with Aziraphale but didn't even realised yet

- a bit dumb sometimes ngl

- very tired

- he's trying so hard save earth and everything he knows but everytime he tries to explain why it's always AZIRAPHALE

- sometimes he's like... your old gay uncle, the old gay uncle of the family except it's a 6000 years old gender fluid demon

- HISS LIKE A SNAKE GANG

- got called dear once and them died (figuratively)

Radio Crowley:

- flirty

- "Humm have you ever seen me in a dress~~??"

- he's like flirting with Aziraphale 24/7

- 0 patience this man is a BOMB

- if Aziraphale ever EVER got slightly flirty with him back he will EXPLODE

- smartest of them all, he's very intelligent

- HISS LIKE A SSSSSNAKE GANG

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and it makes him SO FRUSTRATED

- his Aziraphale is the hardest one to reach, maybe this is why he's so deliberately obvious and direct with him (he's resilient, he will never give up)

- he's like a tsudere teenager collegial except he's a 6000 years old demon with serious issues

- not called dear yet poor soul </3

TV Crowley:

- SILLY

- he's the dumbest of them all, sorry 😭

- red hair

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and everyone notice it's SO OBVIOUS

- he's the most affected by The Bookshop Burning ™ event

- the only one who got to kiss the angel, good for him ig, or sorry, idk

- anxiety bomb he literally (literally) EXPLODE

- strongest soldier bc his Aziraphale is IMPOSSIBLE

- got dumped 2 times more than the others someone pls help him

- the most brave tho

- doesn't hiss a lot :/ free him from this madness let him hiss

- he's like a puppy with giant yellow eyes except it's a 6000 years old snake demon that lies all the time

- protective as hell this man wouldn't let anyone near Aziraphale if possible

- got called dear but at what cost??????????????

Book Aziraphale:

- Anxious all the time, religious trauma except the god is your father and he left you and never talk to you again and the guard angels are your siblings and they want you do be dead

- He's so soft he wants so bad to comfort Crowley but he's really hard to reach

- his Crowley is the most difficult of all of them, he needs to circle him a lot to get in touch

- this man got called names so often I don't think he even cares anymore

- he's very nerdy

- he's the calmest of them all

- really chill

- everyone is so mean to him for no reason

- he has 1 braincell tbh and it's really bad bc his Crowley is not that brilliant too they're both stupid sometimes

- he really REALLY wants to be with Crowley and Crowley only, he sounds almost obligated to be with heaven

- he is really kind to others even when they don't deserve

- he called Crowley dear once and then implode

Radio Aziraphale:

- full of himself

- bastard

- the most closed and oblivious of them all

- he tries to play cool with Crowley all the time (he's slowly getting insane and someday he will jump on this man)

- he's the most self sufficient one he barely holds on Crowley to anything and they're pretty independent

- Crowley can say shit like "Miss me angel~~??" and he would keep a bored face and not react at all (he screamed with the walls 4 hours later)

- he's also a tsudere collegial but he at least try to look cool and composed in public

- he's the Aziraphale that most believes in heaven, he's sure they are good and selfless and the right side

- he's not so brilliant tbh but he got a lot of spirit

- the most active Aziraphale ?? He really put his hand in the dirt and do the things alone

- the most angry and bad tempered of them all, bro scream "WE ARE CLOSED LOOK AT THE DAMN SIGN" when ppl barely touch the bookshop door

- he has a lot of patience with Crowley, not deserved tbh bc he thinks it's his personal job to get in Aziraphale's nerves

- overall he is polite

- he's really proud of their "arrangement" there not only one chance he let go without saying that

- he likes to provoke Crowley sometimes too but not as much as the other way around

- if he ever call Crowley dear he will explode

TV Aziraphale:

- bitchiest

- this man need to be sedated what the fuck Aziraphale

- most nuts of then all he's CRAZY

- he's the most up to do shit with Crowley they're insane together

- he doesn't let Crowley rest he is flirting and being cute and hitting on Crowley all the time

- he's so obviously in love with Crowley its embarrassing

- he's the fruitiest he's the entire salad

- the most... indulgent, if I can say, of them all

- more like an employer of heaven, different of book Aziraphale

- he's the only one with almost white hair

- he got kissed but at what cost

- he's the most intelligent of all of them how can he be this dumb

- he loves little things about earth and humans and life and he seems to be the Aziraphale that most love EARTH itself, like, the life, the humans, the food, the little pleasures we have, the little time of happiness we have between all the shit that is happening... he really loves humans <3

- he's conflicted about heaven, he seems to know that there's something WRONG with how heaven works but still doesn't understand what exactly it is

- "oh but saving me makes him soooo happyyyy~~~"

- overall kind and sweet, in a excited way

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziracrow #crowley #Aziraphale #radio omens #good omens radio #good omens book #thats my opinion #more like some thoughts i have been collecting since im hearing radio omens #not really accurate #does this count as character study????#lol I think not #maybe i have a preference for radio Aziraphale i wrote so much more about him and ended up erasing it all bc it made me look insane #shit its 2 am I'm so sleepy

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anonymousewrites · 3 months

Text

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Five

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Five: Bonding through Battle

Summary: Charlie and Vaggie try to get the Hotel to bond, and (Y/N) trains with Alastor.

“That looks perfect!” said Charlie after Razzle and Dazzle helped her hang a “Happy First Week, Sir Pentious!” sign above the door. “Ah, I’m so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel.”

“Uh, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago,” said Vaggie, crossing her arms.

“And he was working with the Vees,” said (Y/N).

“He apologized for that, and he hasn’t tried to take over the city from here!” said Charlie positively.

As if summoned, Pentious pushed in a strange, cannon-like device with his Egg Bois riding on top.

“What the hell is that?!” cried Vaggie.

“Oh, hello, purple female,” said Pentious. “It’s my new invention, ‘Skin Flayer 11,000.’ I’m really looking forward to shooting the other residents.”

(Y/N) stood up from the couch. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“He’s harmless!” said Charlie.

“Tell that to the cannon!” said (Y/N), escaping out of the room. As they went, they saw Angel coming down the stairs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Huh? Why? I want a drink,” said Angel.

“Pentious is considering shooting everyone right now,” said (Y/N).

“Can’t we just get Smiles to throw him out?” grumbled Angel.

“Yeah, Charlie’s against that,” sighed (Y/N).

“Damn it,” muttered Angel.

“(Y/N)?” said Charlie, peeking into (Y/N)’s room.

(Y/N) looked up guilty from where they were trying to grow a giant thorny rose in the middle of their room.

Charlie stared. “What is that?”

“Decorations…?” said (Y/N), smiling awkwardly.

Charlie sighed. “What are you planning on doing with that?”

“Just putting it up in my room,” said (Y/N) brightly. And to squeeze the life out of people if they try to hurt me.

“…Okay,” said Charlie, accepting the explanation. “I’m asking people to come down for a hotel meeting!”

“Do I have to?” said (Y/N).

“I’ll send Vaggie to get anyone who doesn’t come,” chirped Charlie.

“I’m coming,” said (Y/N), standing up instantly.

“Hi, guys, thanks for coming!” said Charlie, all guests and staff (minus Alastor) gathered in the lobby. “It’s been brought to our attention that there may be a little…tension in the hotel.”

Understatement, thought (Y/N), glancing at where Pentious was hissing at Niffty as she tried to approach. Husk and Angel were with them on the couch, avoiding the snake demon.

“Tension that can be counterproductive to what we’re trying to do here,” said Vaggie.

“We think this group could really benefit from trust exercises!” said Charlie. She grinned. “Yep, we’re doing trust exercises!”

“So what’s with the whole, uh…this?” asked Husk. He gestured to the stage Charlie and Vaggie had set up with a sign saying “Trusting 101.” “I’m not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps.”

“Oh, I will, but it’s cash up front, and I know that one—” Angel gestured at Pentious “—can’t afford me.”

“I’d really prefer not to see the show you’re suggesting,” said (Y/N).

“Gross, I’d never think of a spider,” hissed Pentious.

“Right, well, let’s get started.” According to Vaggie, none of them were getting a choice. “Charlie?”

“Hey, wait, where’s Alastor?” asked (Y/N), raising a hand.

“He had some errands to run,” said Charlie, smiling. “So he can’t be here right now.”

(Y/N) put their hand down. “Oh, okay.”

Some part of them was a little disappointed. Alastor was…odd at times, but they had enjoyed training with him. He had been focused and tough, but it had helped (Y/N). They respected that.

“Alright, are we good to get started now? Any more questions?” asked Vaggie.

Angel put his hand in the air. “Can I leave?” Vaggie narrowed her eyes dangerously, and Angel lowered his hand. “Never mind.”

“Alright, we’re good,” said Vaggie. “Go ahead, Charlie.”

“Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one,” said Charlie. “I trust everyone, so maybe you know better about how to build it properly.”

“What?” Vaggie blanched. “I, uh, don’t know if I’m qualified.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be easy. I’m sure you can handle this,” encouraged Charlie.

“Yeah. Um, sure. I can handle this. No problem,” said Vaggie nervously. She stared at the group, none of whom seemed easy to deal with. She straightened her shoulders and began to pace in front of them formally. “Alright, so we are going to start with trust falls,” she said, sergeant-style. “Each of you are going to share something vulnerable with the group about yourself and then fall backwards while the rest of the group catches you. Got it? Who wants to go first?”

Charlie waved her hand. “Ooh, ooh, me! Me, me!”

“Alright, get up there,” said Vaggie, unsurprised that her girlfriend was eager to go first.

Charlie ran up onto the stage and looked over them all. “I love you guys,” she announced. “Like really, really love you!” She turned around and fell backwards.

No one stepped forward to catch her, and Vaggie ran to help Charlie.

“Gotcha,” said Vaggie.

“That…felt…good!” said Charlie. “Angel, why don’t you go next?”

“Fine,” said Angel, walking onto the stage.

“This time, everyone needs to catch him,” said Vaggie, hands on her hips. “Okay?” She pulled out her spear. “Unless you want me to hurt you.”

“Somethin’ about myself, huh?” said Angel, considering. “How about this?” He grinned. “I loooove to suck—”

“I sweat to fuck, if you say dicks!” growled Husk, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

“—Popsickles, ya sicko!” said Angel, smiling mischievously. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” He fell off the stage and into Husk’s arms. “But, you know, dick’s too.”

“Drop him,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms.

Husk didn’t need to be told twice, and he let Angel fall to the ground.

“Alright, (Y/N), for that, I say you go next,” said Angel.

(Y/N) sighed and stepped up onto the stage. Everyone looked at them expectantly, and (Y/N) felt the petals of their hair wilt nervously.

“I, uh, I think Hell sucks, but I like being here with you guys. It’s nice to be with people who are actually good people,” said (Y/N). They squeezed their eyes shut and let themself fall backwards.

To their surprise, they were caught, and when they opened their eyes, Angel was smiling at them. Quickly, (Y/N) rolled out of his arms and cleared their throat. They didn’t want to do anything else vulnerable the entire day.

“Uh, Pentious, you can go next,” said (Y/N).

Thankfully, once Pentious got on the stage, his dramatics successfully distracted from their vulnerability.

“I…don’t want to live without my minions!” said Pentious. “Nobody catch me.” He fell back, but Vaggie and Charlie caught him before he could hit the ground. “Damn it.”

“That’s great,” said Vaggie. She let go of Pentious. “Wow, you are slimy. Okay, good job. Err, Niffty.”

Niffty giggled and ran onstage. “Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others.”

Everyone stared at her. She leapt from the stage. The group took a step back. Niffty crashed to the ground.

“Yay! Pain!” she cheered.

She ran back up and jumped again, hitting the ground just as hard. Charlie pulled Vaggie to the side to speak for a moment, but that didn’t stop Niffty, and while the rest of the group stared at her, she continuously jumped and hit the ground with a maniacal laugh.

“Pain!” cheered Niffty.

“What are they going to make us do next?” whispered (Y/N) to Angel.

The spider demon put his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna make sure we don’t do anything stupid.” Quickly, he ran over to speak to Charlie and Vaggie with his own ideas.

(Y/N) sighed. “His idea is going to be inappropriate, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” said Husk.

“Great.” (Y/N)’s asexuality shivered.

“Angel! What the actual fuck?!” said Vaggie, crossing her arms.

Angel had brought the group to a BSDM club. (Y/N) immediately turned around and walked out. They weren’t dealing with that shit today.

As it turned out, the next “bonding activity” wasn’t much better since Vaggie had taken military-like control of the group once again. They stood above a warzone of demons fighting and killing each other. Vaggie was proudly staring down while the others’ eyes widened.

“This is how you learned to trust people?!” cried Charlie.

“There is nothing stronger than the trust between comrades in arms!” declared Vaggie. “Buckle up, buttercups, because today you boys become men! You—”

“Wait, wait, I can’t fight without my minions!” cried Pentious as he was grabbed by Vaggie.

She dumped him onto the battlefield. “—are going to survive together! And you—”

“D-Don’t you even think about it!” cried Angel.

He was thrown unceremoniously off the side of the roof. “—Are going to make this hotel work!” said Vaggie. “So get to it!”

“Wait, wait, give me a moment to prepare myself!” cried (Y/N), but they were picked up and thrown over as well.

Niffty jumped over on her own, eager to fight.

“They’re shooting at us!” cried Pentious, cowering.

“Yeah! Hahahaha!” cried Niffty, running at several enemies.

“I’ll cover us,” said (Y/N), trying to take charge of the situation in some way. “Angel, can you grab Pentious while he freaks out?”

“Why me?!” cried Angel.

“Because Niffty is stabbing people and I’m going to get us a path out!” said (Y/N). “So grab the snake and drag his ass out of here!”

“Okay, okay, got it!” said Angel, grabbing Pentious and throwing him over his shoulder.

(Y/N) raised their hands, and vines ripped out of the ground to cover the group on both sides as they made a run for the building to get back up to Vaggie and Charlie. (Y/N) ran through the makeshift tunnel while Angel gave a war cry and carried Pentious over his head.

They ran up the stairs back to Charlie and Vaggie, panting all the while. Angel unceremoniously threw Pentious down and gave the two women a thumbs up.

“Made it,” he said.

“I hated that,” groaned (Y/N), their roses wilting.

“Let’s go home, guys,” said Charlie quietly, sadly.

“Ugh. We just walked up all those stairs,” groaned Angel. Nonetheless, he grabbed Pentious by the tail and dragged him out with him.

(Y/N) looked between Charlie and Vaggie before leaving the rooftop. Whatever was going on was a domestic fight, and they had nothing to do with it. They couldn’t help solve it, so they had to wait for Charlie and Vaggie to work it out.

“You guys survived,” said Husk after the “recruits” collapsed on the couches of the hotel.

“Of course we did!” said Angel.

“I saved everyone’s asses,” said (Y/N) proudly.

“Hey, I helped Pentious!” said Angel.

“True, you dragged the dead weight,” said (Y/N), laughing.

“And (Y/N)’s vines slapped people back left and right. It was awesome,” said Angel.

“I guess Alastor is teaching you something,” said Husk with a begrudging smile.

“He’s…you know, he’s Alastor, but I’m actually learning from him,” said (Y/N) with a smile.

“I liked stabbing!” said Niffty.

“We could see that,” said (Y/N).

“Well, hey, I’m glad you all made it and can take a fight,” said Husk. He looked at Pentious. “You did okay, new kid.”

“Really? Oh, well, I suppose I did get into a little rough and tumble today,” said Pentious shyly. He looked at Angel and (Y/N). “And thank you for pulling me out of there.”

“Eh, no problem,” said Angel, slapping him on the back.

“You owe us,” chirped (Y/N) with a grin.

“Alastor,” called Vaggie from the stairs as the Radio Demon walked in the door. She and Charlie had been pleased to see that some form of bonding had actually occurred. “Failed to get rid of the eggs, I see.”

“Yes, well, the little monsters proved to be rather useful,” he said.

“Why don’t you give them back to Pentious?” said Vaggie.

Tears welled up in Pentious’s eyes. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” said Vaggie. “After today, I guess I can trust you with them.”

“Just don’t threaten to shoot us again,” said (Y/N) with a grin that was more threatening than kind.

Pentious looked at them nervously. “I will not be trying to.”

“Not after watching you on the field,” teased Angel.

“Oh?” said Alastor, his grin widening. “Is my training paying off?”

“Don’t take credit for it,” muttered Husk. “Kid did it on their own.”

“I got everyone back safely,” said (Y/N), putting their hands on their hips proudly.

“A quick learner,” said Alastor. “Let us see what else you can do.”

“Alright!” (Y/N) brightened.

“Oh, great,” said Husk, throwing up his hands. “Let’s teach the kid to do more damage.”

“I’m fine with that,” said (Y/N).

“Excellent!” said Alastor.

Husk groaned. They didn’t need a second Alastor, and Husk didn’t want the kid getting into trouble because Alastor was…himself. Unfortunately, what could he do? (Y/N) wanted to learn to control their magic, and Alastor seemed all-to-willing to show them how. Husk could only hope it didn’t end with (Y/N) getting hurt.

(Y/N) dodged Alastor’s shadows, but they twisted and grabbed the rose demon midair. (Y/N) squawked unceremoniously as they were suspended upside down in the air.

“Ahaha!” Alastor laughed and grinned. “You still lack the instincts to use your magic and run around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said (Y/N). “Can I be put down now?”

“Free yourself,” said Alastor.

(Y/N) narrowed their eyes. The challenge was set.

Briars sprouted out of the ground and arced through the air. Roses bloomed as the vines grew. They constricted around the shadows, and as the darkness fought back, the thorns pierced them, and the shadows melted away, forced to let go of (Y/N) by their plants. (Y/N) twisted and landed on their feet on the ground.

“Excellent! What a quick learner,” said Alastor with a grin. “Your mistakes are entertaining, but I much prefer when you aren’t hopelessly unable to learn.” He spoke brightly as if it was such a kind statement.

“Well, I have one more thing I really want to learn,” said (Y/N).

“Oh? Do tell,” said Alastor.

“I need to keep a smile on my face,” said (Y/N), smiling widely.

Alastor tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. You seem…stronger, more intimidating with it. You don’t seem upset by anyone or anything.” (Y/N) grinned. “And I want to have that strength.”

Alastor’s grin widened and sharpened. What an ambitious demon. He had chosen well. “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

“Right,” said (Y/N). They brushed the dirt off their pants and looked at the clock. Time was up since Charlie had planned some activities for the evening. “I have to go. Are you coming to tonight’s ‘rehabilitation?’ ”

“I have errands to run,” said Alastor vaguely.

(Y/N) nodded. They walked to the door and paused in the doorway. “Hey, Alastor?”

“Mm?” Alastor hummed in acknowledgement.

“Thank you.” Alastor looked at them, but before he could say anything, (Y/N) continued. “I know that you’re only teaching me to somehow help yourself, but, still, thanks. Whatever you’re trying to gain from this, it’s still helping me. I’m getting what I want, and it’s because you’re putting effort into teaching me. So, despite this not being as selfless as Charlie would want to think, thank you, Alastor.” They grinned. “And whatever you’re hoping to get from me, I won’t make it easy for you to get.” (Y/N) disappeared out the door.

Alastor watched them go. How unusual (Y/N) was proving to be. They had correctly assumed he wanted something from them. After all, with Alastor’s current…predicament, he needed all the power he could muster, and having (Y/N) stronger meant that, if he could create a contract with them, he could use their magic for his own gain. (Y/N) saw that, and yet they decided to thank him anyways.

It was weak. It was sentimental. It was…interesting.

Alastor should back off from his plan since (Y/N) had seen through it. They understood what he wanted and could avoid his attempts to manipulate them. And yet, just as they were willing to keep learning, Alastor found he was just as willing to continue teaching.

What an oddly entertaining sentiment.

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interestofthemonth · 4 months

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Excuse me being a crackpot conspiracy theorist for a minute, but this mafia fucking spider family consumes my every thought.

We've seen this season how many hoops and jurisdictions Charlie had to jump through in order to even have a DAY in Heaven. So what if getting to Hell from Heaven is just as hard?

Sera, panicking and desperate, locks up Sir Pentious before word gets out about the possibility of redeeming souls. And the entire time, Pen is just crying in his cell. "Where are my egg bois? How is Heaven supposed be to Heaven without my bois? Can I at least call my lawyer (Angel Dust)? What about Miss Cherri? I don't want me here either, can't you just send me back to the Hotel?"

And Emily? Our girl? Our foil? Bats those pale ass eyelashes at Sera, "of course I'll guard him and make sure no one knows about this. Who would I even tell?" Then the nanosecond she's left alone, picks the lock and goes on the run with everyone's favorite snake. She promises to get him home like he wants, but she also needs to let Charlie know without a doubt that she is right. They have their first solid piece of proof of redemption and Emily is not about to let that be swept under the rug.

But they gotta figure out a way out of Heaven first.

After some digging, it turns out there's one heavenly soul who has been trying to worm her way down to Hell for years now. They go to her asking if it's really possible. She admits never been able to actually do it before because she didn't have the manpower, but with a full fledge seraphim on their side, she thinks it will work this time. Her only condition? She wants to come.

Molly has been trying to get back to her family since she got here, there's no way she's passing up this chance.

#molly has been trying to break out of heaven since realizing angel isnt there and you cant convince me otherwise #i need the spider siblings together so bad #i love him but pentious is not gonna make the connection #he just wants his found family back #hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #sera hazbin hotel #sir pentious #hazbin hotel molly #molly hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #charlie morningstar #cherrisnake #vivziepop #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust

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thecuriousquest · 7 months

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U2 & Bakugo?

You dropped this: 👑

-🧼

Leaving Isn’t Easy

Thanks, Soap Anon! You’re too much of a cutie pie. Love you tons, and thanks for the awesome prompt request!!! Bakugou is one of my favorite characters to write for! 🖤🤘

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (abuse), violence, hitting, face slapping, kicking, hair pulling, physical threats, knife threats, Katsuki is a sad boi, kidnapping, choking

Request: “The only way out of this house is death.”

Yandere Alphabet Prompt

Master List

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You’re fighting for your life, clawing at the arms of the hulking pro hero above you. Katsuki Bakugou chokes you with scarred and heavy hands, making you feel as though he’s about to crush your neck and kill you at the same time. Your legs go from thrashing and kicking wildly to twitching as your soul slowly slips from your body.

Just as the last of your life clings to you as if trying to hold on for just a little bit longer, he decides to let go. Bakugou gets up, kicking you so hard in the uterus you think you might be infertile now. He’d be doing you a favor, but still, it hurts so badly that you can’t help but vomit.

Gasping for air that you feel will never come to you, finally, you manage to suck in a deep breath. Wiping the bile from your lip, you look up at him with rivers in your eyes. Drops of rain cling to your lashes, rolling down your cheeks in despair.

Pointing an accusatory finger at you, he snarls in your face, “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me like that when you were the one who tried to leave! If I hadn’t caught you, who the fuck knows what could’ve happened to you, dumb bitch!”

“Bakugou…” you whisper with slight resistance in your voice as an arm clings to your hurting lower stomach. “It’s not too late to let me go home. I won’t tell anyone. We can act like this never happened.” You can’t help the cough slithering up your throat like a dry snake with rough scales.

His palm cracks down on your cheek, his other grabbing you by your hair, forcing you to look into dark rubies hidden by ash blonde hair.

“It’s Katsuki! This is the last time I’ll say it: This is your home now. Get that through your fucking head because the next time I have to say it, I’ll make you carve the words into your own arm with a dull knife.”

“Okay! Katsuki, I’m sorry!” You throw your hands up, a pleading gesture for mercy. You’re apologizing even though you did nothing wrong.

The sting in your cheek and your hair has you begging him for relief, screaming for him to let you go. He shoves you back, sending your head mere inches from banging against the hardwood floor. You stop yourself from hitting your skull in time, sending your arms out to catch yourself.

You watch, wearily, as he slides down the wall, letting his hands catch his head as he rakes fingers through his spiky hair.

“I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself. I love you. ‘M not letting you go, dumbass.” He grabs you by your ankle, reeling you in towards him.

It surprises you, and you grunt in pain as he collects you in his strong arms. He sits with his legs crossed, and he places you in his lap like a child holding a puppy.

If he’s trying to comfort you, it’s not working. You’re tired of crying. You no longer want to break out into tears because of this man, but he kicked you, slapped you, kidnapped you, and threatened you. This isn’t even the first time he has assaulted you. You feel like you should have built up some kind of immunity to his cruel treatment by now, but you react the same way every time. You’re scared of him, and it shows.

His voice grows rougher, deeper, sadder as he leans into your hair, placing his chin on your head. “I won’t lose you. I…can’t lose you. You’re mine, and you’re not going anywhere. You hear me? The only way out of this house is through death.”

#triggering content #triggering themes #yandere themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #mha katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki x reader

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astrogre · 1 year

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The Planet that is Pluto

Words: power, control, obsession, the underworld, intensity, intense emotions, intense everything, domination, taboo, depth, sex, repressed emotions, shadow self, the survivor, detective, alchemy, dark arts, superiority, fear, bravery

Astrological placements associated with Pluto: Scorpio, 8th house, Aries

Character I associate with Pluto: Femto-Berserk

The way Griffith sacrifices the souls of his people to transform into Femto and have dominance over others. What he does to Casca as well. He is the epitome of an extreme Plutonic character.

Honourable mentions: Homelander- The Boys, Laurie- Euphoria, Makima- Chainsaw man, Erik- Phantom of the Opera, Gaara-Naruto

Places: hades underworld realm, chess tournament’s, hell, anywhere with hierarchy aka corporate workplace, government institutions (because of power play/dynamics), caves, underground tunnel, escape rooms, secret society hidden meetings, nightmares,

Random somewhat astrologically influenced things that personally remind me of Pluto: Rigger, black grapes, death by strangulation, wine, babushka dolls, long nails, snakes, a public executor in the medieval ages, chess, cults, BDSM, the colour black, power play

Song I associate with Pluto:

Listen to this while you read it to immerse yourself in Pluto energy and surroundings, also read the lyrics too it’s very much Pluto energy

For you Pluto dominants:

(Pluto 1st house, Pluto 8th house, Pluto conjunct asc, Pluto conjunct Sun, many strong aspects to Pluto & Honourable mentions: 8th house stellium, Scorpio Stellium.)

This is entire post is dedicated to you

Plutos Traits:

Regenerative and transformative

Think of a snake shedding skin to become anew or when you’ve overcome and left abusive relationships and you’re back in your self confidence. Pluto is a phoenix bird it has a DEEP urge for regeneration and can transform itself from its own ashes into a diamond, Pluto itself is the pressurising machine. Say ashes represent the shittiest moments of our life e.g abuse, relationships, trauma, Pluto has the ability as an alchemist to use this horrible event to make something of more value, it transmutes basic base metal to gold. Transmutes pain and death to renewal. Pluto sees trauma as fuel. Without ashes (intense emotions or experiences) Pluto cannot show up and do it’s thing. Check where you have Pluto in the houses, this may be where you can get hurt most but it’s purposefully for a reason you’re supposed to use those intense emotions and make something beautiful of them

Eg. Pluto in 11th houser may have intense traumatic social circles or communities that ostracise, diminish, use or control them. As a Pluto 11th houser YOU have dominion here, you guys are social climbers the real life underdogs to Royalty stories. Use their exploitation of you as fuel, motivation and a resources to your success.

(Kylie and Kris Jenner have this placement and we all know how they absorb the drama, publicity and negativity from others like a champ, embody it, all to gain constant relevancy, power, influence and fame in their careers. Scandals make their profits go up like the whole Jordan woods drama and using it as marketing to do a sale on Kylie Jenner lip kit, Kris having their children’s private lives scrutinised and publicly available all so her family can gain relevance and wider opportunities)

Dominance and control

The reason why Pluto is known for obsession is because it urges to have the upper hand, Pluto won’t argue when defied he simply acts unbothered but exacts revenge in a cold manner, it wants to dominate and will go to extreme lengths to do that, it will go at all costs, the obsession manifests in an illogical, ego based way think of Gabriel Agreste from miraculous ladybug- how he prioritises triumphing ladybug over saving his wife, that kind of obsession. In my personal opinion I see Pluto as the second ego after Sun. It’s better if I explain by comparison… Think of powerful and dominating planets like Saturn and Mars, imagine if you owed each of these planets money and were in deep debt with them this is how they would respond:

Saturn: would employ you to do gruelling long hard work for many years, no retirement so that you’d die working on their behalf. If you refuse or die before debts are paid they would simply pass your debt onto your children make them do it to repay the money you owe. (If you’ve seen Chainsaw man, Saturn would work/treat the debtors children kind of like the way Denji was treated he had to pay off his fathers debts; in burdensome conditions where his health was being compromised for repayment.)

Mars: if you owed money to mars and were not able to pay it back, mars would most probably threaten you, beat you up, do a drive by shooting, physically destroy your assets like keying cars, graffiti and bulldozing your house, may be very aggressive think of loan sharks and mafia

Pluto: Now if you owe Pluto money.. Pluto is the kind to go further than mars, he would make you pay for it personally, in a way that can be grotesque/dark think of maybe rue from euphoria. When she owed money she just randomly woke up in a strangers bed and the house being filled with men implying she had been sex trafficked. Pluto is very wicked, obsessive and can be unsympathetic. It would not care if you feel pain and regret for inconveniencing them, it does this to put you in your place and prefers you repay the money with your suffering. Pluto may not even want the money anymore but rather the control and prioritises the debtors torture or will get the losses at your expense. eg. Sex trafficking you, have you wake up on the road after being unconscious and notice your kidneys are missing, hold you hostage, torture you, sell your body parts at an elite auction house, make detestable arrangements behind your back like forced marriage etc. This is how Pluto exacts its power and control.

Power obsessed

Pluto gets what it wants and exerts control over others while it does. That’s why it’s described as “scary” and associated with fear, a combination of ego and revenge. This is why wherever Pluto is in your houses it can show where you are intimidating, relentless and powerful and what you have constantly been resiliently obsessing over for years.

E.g Pluto 1st housers feel the desperate need to be in control and that they are seen to be dominant. They’re kind to get insulted if you call them “cute” or make jokes about their authority. (Leonardo DiCaprio, Beyoncé, Britney Spears and Justin Beiber all have this placement and came out of being typecasted or known as the “sweet good girl/boy” stereotype to powerful and to be taken with caution.

Taboo

Pluto is labelled taboo because it inserts itself into light AND darkness. It doesn’t mind and in fact rather enjoys exploring sex, defiance, repressed emotions, any subject that the general public refuse to speak of, Pluto relishes in that. I remember as a child there was a myth that I was told. It was that if you say “Bloody Mary” three times in the mirror you’ll get haunted and a ghost will appear to attack you, while other children may scream and dread in fear to even think of doing such an act, Pluto ruled natives may be the kind when alone to quickly run into the bathroom turn off the lights and try it out alone. That’s why they’re known to participate in dark arts, have interest in disturbing topics, they are fearless, like the challenge and find the minuscule information available on it a challenge. It’s not that Pluto ONLY has interest in taboo topics it’s just that it doesn’t hold as much fear of it as everyone else, talking about sex or death to Pluto is like talking about the weather, it’s no different, after all it’s just another subject.

The reason why they’re so fascinated by such topics and affiliated with them is because they see wasted energy and potential in these dark topics, abandoned resources that nobody wants meaning there’s more for them, and that’s why Pluto wants to explore it. Pluto isn’t wasteful. If Pluto were to kill a cow it would use its meat for food, bones for medicine, skin for rugs and teeth for necklaces, not a part of it would go unused. It gets excited when someone hits them because it means they can hit back.

Hidden self

Pluto is the hidden shadow part of yourself self you may want to hide and refuse to acknowledge. This is because as mentioned before Pluto loves the darkness and inside the subconscious there’s the good stuff and the bad stuff, our subconscious holds our fears, our beliefs, our desires and Pluto brings out all that stuff as conversation starters and wants to explore it and use it as fuel. This is why Pluto is known to be triggering because to be honest who wants to remember the fact they are afraid of touch and their abuser that caused that? But Pluto does. Pluto wants to remember them, Pluto wants to bring it up, Pluto wants to know who they are, Pluto wants to get revenge on them and put them in their place. Wherever Pluto is in your houses can also show how you can exact revenge so that it hits hard on others.

E.g. Pluto 4th house can suggest native can use powerful resources in their family, or their family has status, control, authority over others and can utilise it against others to contribute to their downfall.

(Megan Markle has this placement and she certainly lives up to it. She’s able to use the traumatic experiences she endured as a royal as fuel against them and is slowly contributing to the downfall of the monarchy by using her name and her affiliation to the royal family).

How to activate Pluto

Pluto can only transform and use its powers of Alchemy, transformation, control and power if you tap into its energy otherwise Plutos potential will be ignored. The same with any placement really. If you have a Venus 1st house, you want to be a beauty influencer but don’t put yourself out there, it’s energy will never manifest and remain as wasted potential.

The way you’re supposed to use Pluto is by confronting your fears. When you are most afraid, do it anyway.

E.g. Pluto 7th housers when you’re laying in bed and you’re thinking of that traumatic experience in your relationships instead of suppressing it, allow Pluto to remember it and allow that level of disrespect you feel to take action in the way of your Pluto sign.

(Shakira, Cardi B and Megan Thee stallion all have this placement and exacted revenge on their partners in different ways, Shakira and Cardi did it by artistically exposing them in music and making money form it, Megan did it the same way and also by lawsuits, doing public interviews on torey Lanes and pressing charges)

Anything Pluto touches is where you hold the most power in your birth chart. Usually people say how come i’m not good in that area?? It’s because you’ve not utilised Pluto. It’s because you won’t let Pluto explore it and turn your tribulations into gold.

What can Pluto tell us:

The best way of how you can exact revenge for it to successfully hit hard on others.

Where your wasted potential is. Basically where you allow your fears, desires, trauma to lay dormant instead of using that intense energy for Pluto transformation

Where we get excited when someone hits us because it means we can hit back. (Applies only if native is used to Plutos energy, otherwise you won’t be able to hit back. You’ll know if it’s active if when you have challenges under the themes of the house Plutos in you trust you can fight back like you have in the past)

Where you hold the most power

What you obsess over

How you deal with fears, death, change and trauma

Which part of your life you experience extreme transformation and changes

What you like to fight for

I will most likely be making a series that incorporates all of this for each house. However due to the fact that I am unfortunately very detail oriented this may take a while for me to commit to.

Pluto Series:

Pluto in 1st House

#dark astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro placements #astrology #pluto #sagittarius pluto #pluto aspects #pluto in 1st house #pluto 1st house #scorpio #8th house #astro posts #Spotify

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drawlfoy · 5 months

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benefits of journaling p.2

read p1 here!

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: recreational drug use, language, mild gore, snakes, a mouse gets eaten (thoughts and prayers), tom is a little bit gaslighty, the quality of my writing declines sharply

a/n: note that this is not finished at all, but i'm not planning on finishing this series unfortunately :/ i just have too much going on. this is unedited, unrevised, unoutlined, etc. so adjust your expectations accordingly. i just kind of want to get this out so i've given u guys at least *some* semblance of closure for this series. (UPDATE: now that i’ve written this i’ve changed my mind. i will be working on the next part. i forgot how much i love tom)

wc: 6.7k

enjoy !

This time you were unceremoniously dumped into a hard wooden library chair. You gasped as you braced yourself against the hard table in front of you, drawing in shaky breaths as you gathered your bearings.

A loud bang startled you into wrenching your gaze up. Tom had dropped a thick book with an ebony cover right next to you, nearly atop your hand.

“Here you are,” he said pleasantly. “Happy reading.”

“Do you think I can take this back with me into my world?” you asked. The cover was smooth under your fingertips.

“Unlikely,” said Tom, dropping elegantly into the chair beside you. “You’ll have to read it here.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

The papers were yellowed and fragile against your touch, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how old it was.

“Any section you’d recommend starting with?”

The book was around 700 pages with tiny, fine print.

“Perhaps the beginning.” Tom waved his wand and wordlessly summoned a stack of books, lifting one up and beginning to read for himself.

You’d thought that you’d be less intimidated knowing that he was also doing something besides staring at you reading, but the back of your neck still prickled as you pulled the book to the edge of the table and began to dig in.

It was bizarre, reading next to a boy like this. The only one you ever studied with before had been Ishan, and he hardly counted. It was different with Tom. His presence hung in the air around you, a tension so tangible that it wasn’t unthinkable that you might feel something if you let your fingers sift through the space between you.

Despite all you’d told Tom, spending time around him made you unfathomably nervous. He was too good-looking to feel even remotely normal around him, and it was all you could do to hope that he didn't notice how much you blushed whenever he spoke to you.

The book he’d given you was dense and horrific, detailing magic so ugly and foul that you felt dirty just reading it. It covered topics you’d heard of before, like cases of the Imperius curse or the misuse of love potions or the nature of dark magic.

But there was nothing pertaining to Tom’s situation.

“Can’t you at least point me towards a chapter? Or…a general section of the book?” you asked him.

Tom lifted his gaze from his work, quirking a brow. “Having trouble?”

“This is going to take me forever to read.” You motioned at the width of the book.

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing much more of you.”

You couldn’t fight back the flush that spread across your face. “Well, this is an easily solvable problem. You really ought to just point me to the most relevant part.”

“And here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor,” said Tom. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment you thought you saw the slightest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. “Given that you’re such a glutton for knowledge and not at all singular in your academic pursuits.”

“That’s not—” You paused when you saw the amusement on his face. He’d been playing with you. “I’m flattered that you remembered. I suppose you’re right.”

And since you refused to let him win, you flipped the book back open and picked up right where you left off.

It was really stupid to feel so light at the fact that Tom had remembered a sentence you’d said verbatim, because even if it implied that he’d thought about your last interaction enough to commit it to memory, it was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do in his empty version of Hogwarts except read books he’d probably already read many times before.

You snuck another look at him a few chapters later. A few waves had fallen across his face, dangling over his brow. For a moment, all you could do was keep yourself from reaching out to tuck them back into order, to know what it felt like against your fingers.

But that was a boundary you hadn’t crossed yet—if you even could. Who knew how the rules worked in this dimension?

You resolved to believe that you couldn’t touch him. That it was impossible. Because if you believed that, maybe you’d stop wanting to.

“You never ended up telling me if you were a Parselmouth,” you realized aloud after you’d completed another gruesome section about ritualistic Dark Magic.

You watched him closely but didn’t detect even a glimpse of surprise.

“I didn’t,” he agreed smoothly. He didn’t look up from his page.

“So? I gave you a secret. Many, actually.”

“I think you already know.” He turned the page, dark eyes darting across the next.

“Well—” You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth as you realized that he was right. “What’s it like?”

That was what prompted him to finally lean back in his chair and lift his gaze from the book to your eyes.

“What’s it like?”

Repeated back to you, it did sound very silly.

“I mean,” you said, cheeks hot, “What do you even talk to snakes about? The weather? Whether or not there’s enough mice in the area?”

“It’s unlikely to find snakes that do more than listen to me,” he said. “Most aren’t very good conversationalists.”

“A boy in my—our, I guess—year has a pet ball python,” you told him. “I just don’t understand why he’d want one. They don’t seem like very good companions.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have no emotional depth,” you said. You could feel your voice slipping into the tone you used when you tutored younger students, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d researched this extensively in the library after the Incident in third year when you were looking for any good academic reason for how terrified you were of Malfoy’s pet. “They have no limbic system, so everything for them is about survival. There’s no—no mutual concern or love like you’d get from something normal, like a cat or an owl. As their handler, you only matter because you’re what keeps them alive. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that.”

“So all your companions have to love you?” Tom was resting his chin in his palm now as he looked at you. “They’re worthless otherwise?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you responded. “But I like my company to see me as something more than an avenue for survival or a means to an end.”

“Their companionship isn’t enough?”

You blinked. Everyone else that you’d given your reptile spiel to had completely understood. You couldn’t quite figure out why Tom wasn’t agreeing. “It’s just nice to be cared about, don’t you think? And it’s…it’s nice to care about something without it feeling meaningless.”

“I imagine that that’s true,” Tom said evenly.

Something deep inside you twisted at the implications of his answer. You’d sort of forgotten that he grew up in a muggle orphanage and likely didn’t have any sort of emotional closeness during his early childhood. But he was so pretty and sharp and witty that it was hard to imagine no one caring for him. Perhaps that had changed upon his admission to Hogwarts. He had said that witches and wizards found him charming. You could attest.

You passed the following Potions lab with flying colors and a perfectly brewed Draught of Peace that made even Snape nod approvingly. It was thrilling. It was incredible. All you wanted to do was get Tom’s diary out right then and there and document it as it happened—as if he were right beside you—but you refrained. You told him that night instead, when you were back again for another reading session.

You were falling into his world on a daily basis, devouring as much of the book as you could without forgoing any conversations with Tom. He’d been impressed to hear about your potion in his own very Tom way. He didn’t tell you outright that he thought that you were brilliant or smart or incredible. Instead he seemed entirely unsurprised, like he thought you capable of nothing less. Somehow that made you glow more than any explicitly stated praise that he could’ve offered.

When you weren’t reading, you were walking around the grounds with Tom and just talking, much like you used to write to him. At first you’d been nervous and uncomfortable with being as open with him in person as you’d been in writing, but Tom had a funny way of making you feel seen. Despite his slight aloofness and obvious air of pretension, he listened to you and appeared genuinely interested in your life by way of remembering things you’d said months ago.

Like when you’d told him off-handedly that it was raining back in the real world and that it was your favorite weather, and ever since the Hogwarts you were transported to was constantly overcast with torrential downpours unless you two were walking outside.

You still never dared to touch him, though. That was a line that you refused to cross. Tom seemed to hold the same opinion, keeping a wide berth around you whenever tactile contact was in the realm of possibility.

“How did you become a Parselmouth?” you asked him one day while you were taking a break from reading and walking through the Transfiguration Courtyard.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to you. “Do they not teach you about Parseltongue in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore?”

“No,” you said. “I’ve only ever heard about it by reading a book from the Restricted Section. It was very vague. All I know about it is that it’s the language of reptiles.”

“No one becomes a Parselmouth.” Tom turned his attention back to the walking path, adjusting the cuff of his robes for just a second. “All Parselmouths are born. It’s entirely hereditary.”

“So did you have to learn it?” you asked. Your interest was piqued—you’d never heard of a language that was passed through genes.

Tom shook his head. That one rogue strand of black hair had escaped its orderly wave, just like how you remembered him from his yearbook picture. “I’ve never had to think about it. I’ve just always known how to say what I want.”

“Do you think that you could…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed thickly. You weren’t even sure why you’d started asking him that question. Of course he couldn’t teach you Parseltongue. You didn’t even really want to know it, either. You’d never use it. But you hated being told that you didn’t know something. That you couldn't know something.

“We can give it a try,” he offered.

You dared to glance back up at him and found him already looking at you. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He appeared to be making a valiant effort to quell a grin. “I suppose it has something to do with your approach to acquiring knowledge. One could almost call it…gluttonous in nature.”

You sent him a glare.

Tom shrugged, properly smiling now for the first time in front of you. He had shallow, almost perfectly circular dimples. “Anyway. I’ve never taught anyone before. I actually don’t believe it to be possible, but we might as well give it a go.”

“You’ve never tried?” you asked. “None of your friends at Hogwarts asked you to teach them?”

“No,” he said. “No one knew I was a Parselmouth. I kept that a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “I enjoy my privacy. Right, then. Serpensortia.”

A large, hissing snake appeared at your feet, thrashing about in the grass as it unhappily acclimated to its new environment.

You yelped, leaping nearly a foot in the air. Tom simply stood still, watching you with an amused expression on his features.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let your eyes move from the wriggling snake in front of you. “I’m just—surprised.”

“It won’t hurt you.” His voice was low, gentle. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” you said, but the slight wobble in your tone betrayed you. “Just—get on with the lesson, alright?”

He stood silently, his head tilted in concentration.

“What’s it saying?” you found yourself asking. “Is it—I dunno—threatening my life or something?”

Tom sent you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s scared of you.”

“Really?” A spark of smugness lit up within you.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s expressing how upset it is at how suddenly I’ve conjured it. Apparently we’ve interrupted the start of its meal.”

“What do I say if I want to apologize?”

He appeared to consider your request for just a moment before opening his mouth and making a hissing noise that you didn’t think you could replicate if you had a thousand years.

The snake immediately quieted and stopped its thrashing, its tiny head lifting from the ground to regard Tom curiously.

He looked back at you, expectant.

“Again, please,” you said. “A little slower this time. I didn’t quite catch it.”

He obliged, going through each syllable separately.

You felt very much like you were back in muggle school before you’d found out you were a witch, being forced to read out a passage in French. The sounds that came out of you were clumsy and not at all what you thought they’d sound like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you accused. “For the record, I know it was bad.”

He didn’t address it beyond just the slight upward twist of his lip before he repeated it again, syllable by syllable.

You tried once again with the same outcome.

“Your tongue should be a little behind your teeth,” he said. “You have yours too far back on the roof of your mouth, which is why you’re losing control. Try again.”

This time, it came out much cleaner. The snake took notice of you for the first time, its dark scales glistening under the cloudy sky. It hissed something back. Tom’s mouth split into a grin.

“What did it say?”

“It wants to know if you have any food,” he told you.

“What’s ‘yes’?”

Saying yes in Parseltongue was much easier than saying sorry—it only took two syllables, both of which were made up of sounds that you were pretty sure you had in the English language.

The snake was giving its full attention to you now. Its forked tongue stuck out for just a second.

Gulping, you accioed a small stone into your palm and cast a quick charm to transfigure it into a mouse—something that you’d learned years ago.

You set it on the ground and watched the snake lunge.

“Gross,” you said under your breath, wincing as it began to swallow it whole, its body twisting and contorting as it shoved it down. “I—I think I’m done with the lesson now. I’ve learned enough.”

“You really didn’t need to feed it,” Tom pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah. I know that now. I just felt like it deserved something for the trouble.”

Once the snake had succeeded and the only evidence of the mouse was a bulge in the adder’s scales a little past its head, it lifted its head again to meet your eyes, its tongue slithering out as it made a sharp hiss.

“What’s it saying?”

“It thanked you,” said Tom. He was giving you that look again—like he was reconsidering you.

“And if I wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“I thought you said you were done with the lesson.”

You rolled your eyes. “Consider this my last request. I’d like to be polite.”

Tom let out a sigh, then made a sound that glided from a long S to a few sharp, pointed consonants.

You clumsily mimicked him, feeling like your tongue was much larger than you’d ever bothered to notice.

To your surprise, the adder slithered towards you, dragging itself onto the rock of the courtyard and in front of you. It coiled around your shin, slowly pulling itself up your body.

“Tom!” you whisper-screamed through your teeth.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Do something!”

The snake continued up your leg, looping once around your waist as it continued its ascent up to your shoulder. It was cold and oddly heavy, its scales clammy against the bare skin of your neck.

For one terrifying moment, you thought that it was going to coil around your neck and squeeze until you asphyxiated. Your breath caught in your throat as it came around behind your neck, both ends dangling around your neck as you were paralyzed with fear.

Then it did the most peculiar thing; it stopped, just hanging in a loose hold around the base of your neck, its face nestled into the collar of your robes.

“What’s it doing?” you whispered. You tried to ignore the lump in its body that you could feel at the side of your neck.

“It’s resting on you,” said Tom.

“Why?”

“Because it likes you.”

You stared at him, floored. “It does not.”

He hissed something to the snake around your neck. It responded with something you couldn’t even begin to understand.

“It just told me so,” said Tom.

“How do I know you didn’t just make that up?” you said, mentally crossing your arms across your chest but refraining since a snake was taking residence there at present.

“You don’t trust me?” asked Tom. “I’m hurt.”

Before you could respond, you felt the slow, languid movement of the adder as it lifted its head from your collar. Without thinking, you offered it your hand, watching in quiet fascination as it slithered around your wrist.

“Hi,” you said shyly, like you’d speak to a nervous cat.

“It won’t understand—”

“I’m aware, Tom,” you interrupted, sending him a look before turning back to your wrist. “We’re bonding. Bugger off.”

He held his hands up in exasperation. “Bonding? Are you going to take him back to the real world as your familiar?”

For a moment, you actually considered this.

“Because that’s a terrible idea,” continued Tom, crushing your dream right then and there. “Adders are venomous. Once you don’t have me around, you won’t be able to communicate with it. It’ll probably bite someone.”

“Then perhaps we should start brainstorming ways to bring you back,” you said. “For safe snake handling, if nothing else.”

Tom didn’t say anything to this; instead, he reached out and gently unwound the adder from your wrist, his skin not brushing yours once.

“Surely there’s someone wondering where you are,” he said once the snake had been deposited on the ground. “You’ve been here longer than usual.”

“Do you not want to get out of here?” you asked, frowning. “It hardly seems like you’re trying.”

“I’ve been doing research when you’re not around,” he said simply. “I think I just need to theorize for a bit longer—figure out the best course of action.”

“The process would be sped up significantly if you let me help.”

“I won’t ask that of you. It’s very complicated magic—” He paused for just a moment, noticing the derisive curl of your mouth. “—Not that I think you incapable, of course. But you’ve better things to do. It would distract from your exams, and I tend to work better alone in this stage of research.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on your face. It made sense that he would want to work on this alone. You understood not wanting to have to explain things to people when you could already be going down a rabbithole that you’d deemed important. Plus, your current Tom rendez-vous schedule was eating enough time as it was. But it still stung.

“You’ll be the first to know if I stumble across anything conclusive,” said Tom.

You snorted. “Obviously.”

“Well—” Tom stopped himself. You thought for a moment that you detected the slightest flush across his pale skin, but that was likely because of the chill outside. “That was more clever in my head. Sorry.”

“I imagine that being in solitary confinement for half a century might addle your mind a bit,” you offered diplomatically.

“My mind is not addled.”

“I was very graciously giving you an easy out.”

“Someone is probably wondering where you are,” he repeated, his jaw tense. “So I’m going to send you back now.”

Without giving you another chance to argue, you were catapulted back into your desk chair.

“You look like you could do with a night out,” Lucy observed as she watched you storm into your dorm and send your satchel flying through the air to land messily on your bed.

“Casting my first and last Unforgivable on McLaggen would be preferable,” you said through gritted teeth.

He’d been your partner today in Arithmancy to work on a partner problem set. It apparently wasn’t enough for him to be dreadfully stupid and slow—he had to be an absolute chauvinistic arse about it. Whenever you attempted to correct him, he’d look at you with so much amusement that it made your head pound.

He didn’t even need to say anything—the look in his eyes told you that he didn’t even see you as a person.

The last person to treat you so dismissively had been Pansy Parkinson, but at least she’d been smart. And a witch. McLaggen dripped with conceit and smugness and was disgusting towards the most pureblooded witch on a good day.

It’d been nearly 3 hours and your blood was still boiling.

“Well, I can’t arrange that,” said Lucy. “But I can tell you that Hufflepuff is throwing tonight. McLaggen probably won’t come—Ernie hates him, and he’s the one who put it all together.”

You considered this, looking longingly once at the bag on your bed. You hadn’t done anything with your friends in forever; nearly all the time you had was spent either studying or with Tom.

The Hufflepuffs were always gracious hosts, too. The last time you’d gone, they’d given you something to smoke that had smelled like a meadow on a sunny spring day and made you feel like you were floating. You’d giggled all night with Lucy, clinging to one another. You’d gone on some tirade about how much you loved her, touching her face and tearing up as you said something about how you didn’t know what you’d be without her. Lucy’d beamed back at you, her face wide open with raw gratitude.

It had been sappy, but it had been fun and one of the few positive memories you had from the disaster that had been O.W.Ls season.

“You know what,” you said slowly, watching Lucy’s face light up, “I think that’s just what I need.”

Tom could wait.

Lucy squealed and got right to work. In seconds, all the clothes you’d brought from home were strewn across her bed as she scrutinized each one.

“I thought this was just going to be, like, a chill thing,” you said.

Lucy picked up a sequined top, held it up to your chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Too loud.”

“Lucy—”

“I never get to go out with you,” she interrupted, yanking a black slip dress from the pile that caught the warm overhead light. “Thoughts? We could do some fun earrings or something to dress it up.”

“Are we not just going to sit in a circle and smoke again? This feels a little overkill.”

“Well, it’s not,” said Lucy, throwing it at you. “This is hardly a ballgown. Plus, this is your annual outing. Dress to impress.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped the straps off the hanger, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned around to change.

Lucy continued her rampage, ooh-ing and aah-ing upon seeing it on you and immediately cornering you with a scary looking brush.

“For your eyes,” she said, like that made you feel any better.

“What?”

“Close them.”

You squeezed them shut, willing this to be over. You’d had your own experience with muggle makeup, which was tame and not at all exciting. The Wizarding World always had interesting takes on beauty tools, like charmed kohl that could turn your entire eye black if you weren’t careful enough.

Something cool and wet swiped across the corner of your eyes. Lucy mumbled something under her breath, and there was a slight ruffling at the end of your lashes, like a light breeze had swept through them.

“Open.”

You blinked, your lashes feeling a little heavier.

“Pretty,” said Lucy, nodding seriously. “Hang on. Do you have a lip color preference?”

You stared. A lip color preference? “Er—whatever you think makes the most sense with my undertones.”

“You would say that,” Lucy replied, already holding a wand of lip gloss. “Put this on.”

When you turned to look into the mirror she was holding out, you nearly started at your reflection. Lucy had done something insane with your lashes, curling them up and adding length that didn’t look too obvious. That weird tool she’d used on your eye had created a sharp, clean line that followed the contour of your lashline and licked out at the end.

You looked really pretty. Not quite Tom Riddle level pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said, turning back to Lucy after you’d applied the gloss she’d given you. It smelled faintly of something that you couldn’t quite place—like old parchment and the memory of walking through the library in the middle of the night. It was the strangest scent you’d ever encountered in a lip product.

Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs did not disappoint. They’d bribed house elves into bringing an entire spread of food that was fragrant and under a constant stasis spell to keep an optimal temperature. You spent the evening chatting with your Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends and feasting on ripe slices of pineapple and bites of strawberry that stained your already glossy mouth a vibrant pink.

Then Hannah Abbott reached into her pocket and pulled out a stash of corked bottles.

“Party Potions,” said Lucy in wonder as you both stared at the swirling liquids.

You’d heard of them before but had never personally had one. You weren’t entirely sure what they did, in all honesty, and that stressed you out enough to keep you from giving them a whirl.

They were different vibrant colors—one an opalescent pink, one a vibrant orange, one a blood red, one a deep, midnight blue that reminded you of your house colors.

“Anyone want one?” asked Hannah, motioning to her pile. Terry Boot raised a hand and plucked the orange one from the table, uncorking it and downing it in one go.

“What do the different colors mean?” you asked. The longer you looked at them, the more you were mesmerized.

“I don’t remember,” admitted Hannah. “Nothing crazy, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think,” you repeated.

“Just because I don’t remember why I bought each color doesn’t mean that I would’ve purposefully bought something that did bad things,” Hannah told you. “Here. Take one. It’ll help you relax.”

The midnight blue potion sat on the fingers of Hannah’s outstretched palm.

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“I promise it’s nothing too intense,” said Hannah. “You’ve smoked before, right? I’ve had one and it was honestly just like getting crossed. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of smoking, common sense flew out the window. The last time you’d been offered an illicit substance in the Hufflepuff Common Room, things went really well. Who were you to deny that again?

“If you’re sure it’s alright for me to have it,” you said. The bottle pulled easily from Hannah’s hand and into your grip.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Lucy was grinning at you widely.

Up close, the midnight blue wasn’t solid—there were specks of silver in there, like thousands of stars littered across the night sky. It was stunning. You felt almost bad uncorking it and downing it, but you didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess.

It tasted like lavender and honey and something burnt that was horribly gross but faded away with time and went down like water.

“You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Sorry, Luce,” you said, swiping the back of your hand across your lips.

You weren’t feeling anything yet. Or were you? Was this how you normally felt? The ceiling of the Hufflepuff common room definitely didn’t move, right? And Lucy typically wasn’t outlined in a fuschia pink. That you were sure of.

“Whoa,” you said dumbly.

“I think Y/N’s feeling something!” called out Hannah. “What’s it like?”

You stared at her, watching as a warm brown that reminded you of English Breakfast tea with milk stirred in surrounded Hannah’s edges.

“You’re such a good person,” you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes, because Hannah Abbott truly was. “And so are you.”

You turned to Lucy, trying your best not to cry. “Did you know that you’re the color pink?”

Lucy nodded gravely. Later she would laugh about this, but not now. “That’s very kind of you.”

You spent the evening in a daze, staring open mouthed at your friends as you saw different colors swirl around, some overlapping and blending.

It was beautiful. Then the sadness kicked in. It wasn’t clear to you exactly what caused your sudden rush of melancholy—but all of a sudden you were staring at the happy people dancing around you, the colors blurring and mingling, and all you could think about was Tom. Tom, who was all alone. Tom, who might never get out. Tom, who was destined for an eternity of loneliness.

“I’m going to go back,” you said to Lucy, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention.

She frowned. “Aw, why? Are you not feeling well?”

“The potion Hannah gave me is making me feel really tired,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Your eyelids were heavy and the thought of curling up under your blankets sounded better than anything. Well, almost anything. There was something you needed to take care of first.

“Booooo,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No! I mean—” You gulped. “You’re having fun. I’ll be fine getting back. I think Ron’s on the rounds in our part of the castle. He’s not going to write me up.”

“You sure? I’d be happy to take you.”

You started pushing her in the direction of the other party-goers. “Very. Go have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.”

By the time you’d burst back into your room, your chest was heaving with exertion from sprinting up the stairs as you wrenched open your desk drawer and pulled out the journal.

Tom you wrote. Can you let me in?

He didn’t answer; instead, you were falling through space and into the warmly lit Hogwarts library from the 40s.

“Tom!” You couldn’t stop the grin that came across your face.

“Oh—hello.” Like always, Tom was standing tidily a polite distance from you, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Unlike always, he was staring at you like you’d just shot his dog.

“Is everything okay?” The potion you’d taken was definitely still in effect. An inky blackness was hanging around his shoulders—a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.

He swallowed, his eyes darting up and down. “Yes. Sorry. You just look a bit different.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was at a party. Did you know you have a black aura?”

“What?”

“Your aura is black,” you repeated, slower this time.

He just stared at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, averting your eyes. Maybe he was insecure about having such a lame aura color. It had been a bit rude of you to point that out all willy-nilly.

“I’m not—” Tom stopped, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I’m sorry, is there a reason why you asked to see me? Surely you don’t mean to read after you’ve just stepped out of a party?”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly you remembered why you’d come. A somberness dropped over you. “I was just…I was having so much fun tonight. And then I thought about you.”

He stayed silent.

“What’s going to happen to you if I can’t get you out?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. “Are you just going to be stuck here forever? Won’t you be lonely?”

When he didn’t immediately answer and opted to stare at you in shock instead, you continued.

“Because I keep thinking about what might happen if something happens to me or I lose your journal,” you confessed, now ardently choking back tears. “I really worry about you. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help you leave.”

“Are you…” His eyes darted up and down you again. “Drunk?”

“Hardly,” you said, swiping angrily under your eyes as you collapsed onto the loveseat that you so often read on, pulling your knees to your chest. Then, quieter: “It was just some potion a friend gave me.”

“If you’re so worried about something happening to you so that I’m left alone…” You weren’t looking up at him, but the increase in volume told you he was coming nearer. “...May I suggest not taking mystery potions?”

Before you could issue a retort, the loveseat cushion shifted to accommodate the weight of a second person, sending you toppling over to the other side.

Right onto Tom.

Your hands went flying to the opposite armrest, fingers digging into the worn blue velvet with a death grip as you righted yourself, pushing your knees from where they’d landed sprawled in Tom’s lap.

Which you could actually touch, by the way. The implications began rolling in once you were back on your respective side. He’d been solid and warm and completely void of any attributes that may suggest he was a ghost. Which meant that it was probably possible to…

No. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now.

“I didn’t realize I could touch you,” you heard yourself saying, staring at him in wonder. “I just assumed I couldn’t.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.”

And for purely scientific purposes (no reputable academic came to a firm conclusion based off of a single trial), you reached your hand out and experimentally poked his forearm again.

“Wow,” you said.

“Will you stop that?” said Tom.

“Yes.” You retracted your hand and placed it firmly in your lap. Then, because your manners hadn’t completely abandoned you: “Sorry. That was rude of me. I just sort of assumed that since you’re—well, whatever you are—it’d be like touching a ghost or something.”

“Whatever I am,” he echoed, looking off into the distance with what you could only describe as a very harrowed expression.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, but you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

Instead of responding, he buried his face in his hands, heaving a heavy sigh as his fingers tangled into his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He just shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands once before he let them fall.

“Er, all right then,” you said. “Would you like me to leave? I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You really shouldn’t worry about me,” he finally said. The awkward, slight pauses between his words gave you a sneaking suspicion that he was choosing his words very carefully.

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Now that you knew that you could touch him, nothing stopped you from reaching out to flick his arm indignantly. “We’re friends, and I like to think that my friends would worry about me if I was stuck in journal jail. Or whatever this is.”

He was still staring at where you’d touched his arm.

“...Unless you don’t want to be friends,” you added, suddenly feeling a little silly for jumping to such rash conclusions. “Which I’d understand. I can give your journal to someone else. A Slytherin, maybe. Someone a little more your speed.”

You decided to blame the potion for the obvious hurt that had seeped into your voice at the prospect that there was someone else who was better suited as his confidant.

“I don’t want you to do that,” Tom eventually said. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Then what do you want?” The strength in your words surprised even you. “I don’t understand you. You tell me you want to get out, but you still won’t let me help you. You let me talk to you and come visit you and read with you, but then you expect me not to care. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Tom, thumbing the ring he always wore around his finger. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me understand!” Your voice rose sharply, echoing off the walls of the empty library.

Tom finally turned to you, his face split open with something so uncharacteristically raw and open that it takes everything within you not to gasp.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He drew in long breath. “Not right now. I need more time.”

“Oh, a half century wasn’t enough?” you retorted. “Need another?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Tom, an edge of franticness in the way he spun the ring around his finger quicker. “I never thought that I’d—I didn’t think I’d ever be found. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

You didn’t know what to say to this. Instead, you sat there with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes set on the floor, your mind racing with all the implications of everything you’d learned.

A moment passed. Then another. Once it appeared clear that you weren’t going to say anything back, Tom spoke up again. “You’re angry with me. I understand that this is…” He paused. “Unconventional. But I am grateful you’ve found me, and I’d really rather prefer that you don’t give me away to another student.”

You were just about to respond when—

“But of course I’d understand if you did,” he added hastily.

It was the most unnervingly emotional speech you’d ever seen come from Tom, ever the stoic, and under the influence of the potion that Hannah had given you, it was almost enough to make you give in and move on. But not quite.

“You said ‘supposed to’.” Your eyes still didn’t move from where they were trained on the scuffed wooden floor of the library. “You said ‘I wasn’t supposed to be found.’”

“That’s right.”

You turned to look at him, inky black aura spilling over his equally dark hair. “‘Supposed to’. Like you knew this was going to happen. Like this wasn’t an accident.”

And the change you saw in him was so miniscule that if you hadn’t been spending enough time studying his face, you might not have noticed it. But you had, and the slight dilation of his pupils and twitch of his jaw was enough to betray his panic.

Then his mouth split into a smile and his face smoothed over, his eyebrows furrowed with just the right amount of concern. The shift was startling, like he’d slipped on a mask. “Of course this was an accident. Do you really think that I’d choose to be stuck here for eternity?”

“That’s—” You paused, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“I wouldn’t,” he pressed, and this time his arm came up to drape over the back of the couch. You tried your best not to think about how you could feel warmth radiating from it, how if you tilted your head back, you might brush against it. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll send you back,” he said, a polite smile set on his lips. “You should really get some rest.”

And for the first time since you’d first discovered the journal, you fell asleep feeling a little bit afraid of Tom Riddle.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you

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