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My husband is fucking dead
Precautionary Content Warning
I am now pre warning everyone, my House of the Dragons obsession is coming back because Matt Smith is such a fine specimen. That means, I may write for Daemon Targaryen.
Daemon is a whole WARNING
To give a little background, the Game of Thrones/House of the Dragons has some triggering topics, some of them including p3dophilia and inc3st. Understanding that it’s fantasy and the sort of realism they have to the time period the creators are referencing, these topics aren’t just there for shock value but actually serves a purpose in the plot. Between the Lannisters and the Targaryens, the Targaryens have dragons. The Lannisters do not and I absolutely hate them.
I DO NOT support INC3ST, P3DOPHILIA, ETC. in anyway, but for the sake of writing one of my favorite shows, I will be separating fiction from reality.
If I ever post any HOTD/GoT content, understand that my content does not reflect my morals and values. If you scroll through some content in the future that you don’t like, just scroll past, and know that you’ve been warned.
I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of people sending me hate for something that I have pre-warned. I also have trigger warnings. Those who do decide to continue anyways, first off, at this point you’re looking for a reason to get mad at, and second, you’re clearly not who the content is meant for. Those who send hate and threats will have their comments removed and blocked.
This is just a precautionary to any of my followers. Thank you.
Too Little Too Late
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Summary: Alastor didn't realize what he had until it was gone.
Warning: Angst, Violence, Abuse, mentions of racism/sexism
A/N: I understand Alastor is aroace. I don't really know how to properly convey the feelings or thoughts of those on the spectrum, but I tried to portray things in a way that fits in the story. Anyways, I actually tried this time. This is the shit I come up with when I don’t have writers block. I also learned that I like writing depressing shit.
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They say life flashes before your eyes right before you die, but to Alastor, all that he could think about was you. When he recalls his childhood, there’s nothing sweet to reminisce about besides his mother and the way you constantly tailed him wherever he went. It was annoying, it was endearing, and it made him a little less lonely. He’d do anything to hear your voice one last time, the sweet voice that soothes all his insecurities and uncertainties. If only he could crawl to you now and reach for your soft hands that had once held him when he had killed his father. He did it to avenge his mother, that’s what he told himself, but he never admitted to himself that he was scared. He brought you with him to maybe have a celebratory dinner with his mother. He felt guilty for bringing you to a house that harbored a monster of a father; he was embarrassed that you had to witness such a grotesque scene. Most importantly, in that second, when his father had turned his head to you, he was absolutely terrified. He pictured your body lying next to his mother, and suddenly his body reacted on its own.
He fought so hard, in both his career and his murderous impulses, and despite all that, his efforts are in vain. He lost you regardless. What used to be a nuisance of laughter dulled into a quiet hum of emptiness.
“I’m supposed to get married,” You said beside him, a forced smile on your face. The sun dips slightly below the horizon, casting a dark orange hue on the city of New Orleans. The hilltop allowed a great view of the skyline.
“Well, congratulations, dear! We only continue to get older,” Alastor cheers brightly.
You chuckle at his excitement, toying with the daisy flower crown you’ve made. “I don’t think I’m ready yet. After all, you promised to take me to New York,” You smile fondly, placing the crown on his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to commit to the married lifestyle yet.
Alastor shifts his body to face you and cups your face in his hands. He refuses physical contact, and yet it was always comfortable with you around. “Don’t cut yourself short.” His face falls into seriousness, a concept so foreign. It’s almost as if a performative smile has been stitched on his face, and yet when he’s with you, he’s just Alastor. “You are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. You know how to make people smile. Your presence itself brightens the room when you walk in. Your laugh rinses away any stress and worries of the day.”
His words are enough to cast a soft, warm blush on your cheeks. His touch is short-lived as he starts going on a tangent about everything good about you, even if it's false. “I don’t know how to cook.”
Alastor was stumped for a moment, recalling the instances where he thought you were trying to assassinate him. “It may be questionable, but your efforts are admirable, and that’s all that matters,” He smiles brightly.
“The man may not feel the same,” You frown.
“Then he is blind and foolish,” He interjects.
A smile cuts through your face, admiring his passion. “I want to go to New York before I settle down.” You look back at the horizon, the sun almost gone, and the sky fading to a dark purple.
“I know I promised to take you before, but why New York?” Alastor pauses.
You stand up, fantasizing the sound of jazz never fading, the lights never dying, and all eyes on you. “It’s the Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. What’s not to like?” You ask with a smile, though your spark falters for a moment. “I want to be a star. A performer. I can dance and sing all I want down the streets, but I’ll never get my big break in this small well.”
Alastor listened intently. He had once made a promise that when he made it big, he would take you to New York. It was an empty promise, never believing it was possible. You and he were at a disadvantage when it came to pursuing dreams. He believed you had a better chance than him. After work, he’d stop by the jazz club and watch you sing and perform. He knew you worked hard, and a bit of him sits unease when men talk over your song, mock you, or straight up disrespects you. Still, the show goes on with a smile.
“Saturday will be my last night performing. My arranged husband doesn’t like too many eyes on me. Mother says it’s for the best. My- fiancé used to work on Broadway, and father said if I be good to him, he just might just take me.” You smile hopefully, yet it seems the idea was lost a long time ago.
Alastor didn’t know how to respond. There was no way he could just meddle with your life. It’d be wrong to. Alastor clears his throat, “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
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Alastor is a man of his word, and he fought tooth and nail to watch your final performance. His bosses held him up, and how can he complain? He loves the radio. His face is made for radio. He’s made his mark in the industry, and he truly could not afford to jeopardize his moment. He also refuses to give anyone an excuse to replace him, because, despite knowing his worth, his boss won’t hesitate to replace him if he doesn’t hold to their standards. In this territory, he is nothing but prey.
He had arrived at the club, a good thirty minutes late, and you should have been performing still, because your show lasts hours if you wanted to. However, when he had asked around, you had already left early, which should have been the first warning sign, yet just like his feelings, he pushed it aside and assumed the best. You truly deserve the best, and it feels foreign to expect any calamity your way. You’ve had it set for you, compared to him. Though you worked hard to be where you’re at, he had to work triple that, because the world has yet to accept him because of the color of his skin. He left the club, disappointed, yet he pushed away that feeling as well, just like he does with any feeling involving you.
Looking back now, it was love he was feeling, though it was such a foreign concept. The only love he ever felt was from his mother. If he had stopped ignoring his feelings, maybe he would’ve noticed how your eyes longed for him, yet you never reached out. You saw him like fine china, something to be kept within distance, to be looked at and admired. You longed to have him, and yet you knew he did not feel the same, and so you continued to admire, because getting any closer would have left a stain on the relationship you had.
Alastor was still oblivious to his feelings, even as your house burnt to ashes. He watched helplessly as your mother sobbed. “She’s still in there! Save her!” Your mother pleaded with the firefighters as her husband held her back from running into the house herself. He cares for you, he truly does, and that’s what makes him so useless. Alastor watched as the fire roared, debating whether he should go run into the house himself, and yet he was cared of what it could be if he had to hold your lifeless body in his arms.
“I knew she had a fight with her fiancé, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad,” Your father stresses, regret drowning him, knowing he had allowed this man into their home despite your protest.
“A fight?” Alastor asks, a spark of an uncertain feeling burning through his skin. Maybe it was anger, annoyance, or even possessiveness. He’s had fights with you, but they were minor, petty ones where one would give the other the silent treatment. It never really lasted too long, as the other one caves in so easily.
“We assumed if we left, they’d work things out on their own,” Your father says, diverting his gaze in guilt.
“No, cut that crap. You assumed it would be fine. I never approved that man, but all you saw was money.” Your mother’s words grazed her husband like a knife. “I told you he’s a bad man, that he had hit our daughter, yet all you saw was a way to be rich. This is your fault.”
“We’ve got a deceased man and woman, both suffering stab wounds and burns,” Alastor hears a firefighter report to the other workers on scene, and it could only be assumed that it was you and that filthy man. His heart drops, and maybe your mother had overheard as well because her sobs cut through all the noise as she drops to her knees.
“Tell me she’s not dead! Please! My sweet daughter,” She sobs, and despite her husband’s attempts at holding her, she pushed him away. She’d continue to live her life knowing that her husband had led to her daughter’s death, and she wasn’t able to do anything to prevent that.
A few days later, your mother shared the police reports with Alastor. You fought with your fiancé, and during the fight, he threatened you with a knife, holding it to your throat. In self-defense, you tried to wrestle the knife out of his hands, and in doing so, a candle had been knocked down, setting the tablecloth on fire. You both were in a heated fight for the knife to even care about the fire. Then, according to the wounds, you were stabbed, deep enough to cause some internal damage to your organs, causing fatal amounts of bleeding. Based on how severely burnt your fiancé’s body was, and the remnants of fabric from the tablecloth on him, you had managed to take the burning cloth and throw it at him. This caused some minor struggle, causing the man to let go of the knife. You pounced for the knife, and despite how weak you felt from the loss of blood, as the man was struggling with the fire on him, you managed to stab him multiple times, some very fatal, before passing out from blood loss. Both you and your fiancé had gone unconscious from the stab wounds before the fire had spread to the house.
As for the content of the argument, the police could only assume that it had something to do with your performance cut short. The reason why your fiancé was so rich was that in New York, he had taken advantage of many girls, dreaming of being a performer. He had taken them in, made them do scandalous acts, and later the men would pay to spend the night with them. The girls, having left everything to chase their dreams and signing their names away in a contract, had no way out of their deals besides death. That man had tried to do the same with you, except the contract you had tied to him was the promise of marriage that your father offered on a silver platter. He didn’t know, but he is equally to blame.
The unsettling feeling in Alastor’s chest felt foreign and displaced. He didn’t cry at your funeral, as death is a natural thing, whether it was unwanted. He may be your friend, but he’s also a killer. Death is something he can control and manipulate whenever he wants. Maybe that’s why there’s a pit rumbling in his stomach. He should be feeling sad. He should be feeling empty. He should be mourning the woman he had lost, but the days go on just the same. He’d wake up, go to work, and indulge in his dangerous hobbies. Perhaps he’s grown desensitized to death itself that he no longer fears it. He still came back to that hilltop, and even if the sun felt cold against his skin, he still didn’t cry. His feelings are fizzling, begging to be let out, but he kept them at bay, and he continues to do so until he realizes too late.
His final moments were ones of realization. He avenged himself countless times for every wrong he’d been challenged with, yet he never sought to bring justice to your death. He knows how to kill, he knows how to manipulate, but there’s no one left. Your fiancé was dead, so he couldn’t even give the man a piece of his mind. Even if he blamed your father, how could he kill your family? You may have been wronged, but you loved your family dearly. If Alastor killed your father for the sake of justice, it would be like spitting at your grave.
Regrets poured out of him, like the blood that waters the Earth, as he lay still. He loved you, but he was a selfish man, undeserving of love from an angel. He’d encountered many misfortunes in his lifetime to forget what love is. Instead of indulging in crushes as a teen, he spent each day trying to survive, and eventually, he did not need such emotion. Under different circumstances, he would have married you instead. If he had been given more time, he would’ve succumbed to his feelings. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve rejected his bosses and arrived at your show on time. He should’ve whisked you away to New York, just like you fantasized, the moment you told him you were to be married at that hilltop. He should’ve run away with you. If only he had comforted you when you looked at him wistfully, longingly. He should’ve held your hand and kissed you. He should’ve done many things, and as many times as he repeats all the should-haves, his ego would’ve kept him blind right up until disaster comes his way. Only then, when he’s trying to mend all the pieces, would he realize that he can’t mend what’s already been lost.
Damn I’m stuck in a writers block again. I need inspo AHHHHH inspo for my Man’s Best Friend series and inspo for Alastor bc ma man is back 😩 also I need more of that 1930s vibe human Alastor. Yes I will be using him to procrastinate on my Ateez fics. Gang I’m cooked.
i hope your getting fucked right by how scrumptious your writing love !!
Where do you think I get inspo from 😭😭
K-Pop Masterlist
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Ateez
Man's Best Friend
Hongjoong x Reader: Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?
Seonghwa x Reader: Void
Many more will be added here later
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TV Show Masterlist
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Hazbin Hotel
Alastor x Reader:
Dolly
Dolly II
Dolly Finale
Too Little Too Late
Many more will be added here later
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Anime Masterlist
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Tokyo Revengers
Sano Manjiro x Reader: Juliet to Your Romeo
Bungou Stray Dogs
Dazai x Reader: Am I Playing Alright Now, Daddy?
Jujutsu Kaisen
Gojo x Reader: Daddy's Home
Many more will be added here later
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Game Masterlist
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Genshin
NSFW Headcanon
Many more will be added here later
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When Did You Get Hot?
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Summary: Bout time I get back on the horse to the rodeo.
Warning: Ass writing, main character is a red flag, San in love with the idea of you rather than you as a person, you being the same. Relationship shallow af. San’s a virgin. Smut. First time sex being awkward bc it do be awkward.
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Against your will, you were unfortunately taken to the bar with your friends. They said it’s better than sitting and moping around. First off, it’s completely valid. After all, those men broke your heart. Second, they said they were hoping to hook you up with someone, and truth be told, you are not ready to handle another manchild.
i know i'm requesting too much but you better do part 3 either nobody's son or go go juice cause it's so damn good i feel like your edging me right now 😭
I’m actually doing a little something. I’m currently in writing for When Did You Get Hot and perhaps starting a series for Man’s Best Friend. Thank you so much!! I rarely get writing inspo but here I am crying to songs while being in a healthy relationship 😭😭
Man’s Best Friend
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Summary: The misfortunate events of dating men. It’s one heartbreak after another and yet you come back for more. That’s the curse of liking men.
A/N: All for funsies so the writing might suck. Each member is its own universe.
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Hongjoong (Idol Boyfriend AU)
My Man on Willpower
We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night
San (Childhood friends to situationship AU)
When Did You Get Hot
Nobody’s Son (In Progress)
Wooyoung (It's giving Jesse Pinkman if he weren't a drug dealer AU)
Manchild
Goodbye
Mingi (Fuck Buddies AU)
House Tour
Never Getting Laid
Seonghwa (Healthy relationship that you ruined AU)
Tears
Don’t Worry I’ll Make You Worry
Ateez (A Universe where they simultaneously exist but don't know each other)
Go Go Juice
Sugar Talking
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The rest of the members will be in Short n’ Sweet
We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night
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Summary: Called it a false alarm to all of our friends. Then we almost broke up again last night.
Warning: Bad writing bc I’m shit at writing. Toxic relationship. Suggestive but not really. I think the title speaks for itself.
Hongjoong x reader
Part 1
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Your backs are turned from each other, and yet you lie awake in bed. You’re unaware of whether he’s awake or not, that is, until he starts shifting in his spot. Only then did you realize he’s awake by the way he pulls you into a hug.
“You awake?” He asks, kissing your shoulder.
“Yeah,” You say dryly.
“I have to get back to the studio at 7,” He sighs.
You look straight ahead, not bothering to look at him. “You’re usually scheduled at 8.”
My Man on Willpower
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Summary: He used to be literally obsessed with me, I'm suddenly the least sought after girl in the land.
Warning: This was written in one sitting after some random inspiration while listening to Sabrina.
Hongjoong x Reader
Part 2
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“Want me to show you something?” The usually busy idol asks. Although it’s already 2 am in the morning, Kim Hongjoong hasn’t kicked you out yet. His fingers dance around the keys of his keyboard, producing the best sound you’ve ever heard. It’s intriguing watching the master at play. Despite you being on his lap, he looks to be in his element, eyes fixated on what’s in front of him. Once he’s satisfied with the sound, he looks at you as if asking for your approval.
I’m tired of hiding and pretending as if I’m not a sucker for those modern reader x fantasy world stories. Like one of us falling into the hotd universe? The hobbit one? Start wars? Anything? Anytime I see modern reader and some fantasy word I start barking like a dog. I need more of those
glorious ovulation or something idk
NEED HIM SOO BAADD