#i lay in bed at night and consider starting a cult so i can be worshipped

[shinobuscanonwife]

Hi hello, hru

May I request Muzan, Akaza, Douma, Kokushibo, and Enmu (idk if u write for the last too, so if u want u can just do Muzan, Akaza and Douma if u don't know how to write for Kokushibo), with a gn s/o who loves cats and has 2 pet cats and they asked them to watch their cat for them for a few minutes cause they gotta prepare the cats food and during those minutes they have with the cats, they bond with their s/o's cats?

(pls fill my dire need of this pls pls pls)

Muzan

He agrees to watch your cats but he doesn't really expect to bond with them. He just goes back to his research and checks on the cats every once in a while. While he was working the cats jumped on his lap and laid down on his lap. He let the cats lay on his lap but once you got back he picked the cats up and gave them back to you. "It got hair on me." He kissed you goodbye and told you he had work to attend to and he carried on with his night. He went to his office and your cats found their way into his office and sat back down on his lap. Muzan rolled his eyes and patted the cats on the head. The cats started to purr and lay down on Muzan's lap. Muzan surprisingly didn't mind and he found himself enjoying spending time with the cats. He carried the cats into your shared room later that night and set it down on the bed "your cats were in my office with me dear I hope you weren't worried"

Akaza

He likes your cats. He lets them lay in his lap sometimes but he never really had a bond with them. When you said you had to go prepare the food he nodded and said that he would take care of the cats. The cats jumped on his lap and he patted the cats on the head. The cats started to play with the tassels on his belt. Akaza laughed at the cats playing with the tassels on his belt. He started to play with the cats while he waited for you. You came back to Akaza on the floor with your cats playing.

Douma

He loves cats omg. Sometimes his worshipers will bring their pets and he ends up giving more attention to the animals than his worshipers. So when you asked him to watch the cats for a little while he got really excited and nodded his head "yes, of course, dear take your time!" Son after you left one of the cats snuck up behind Douma and started swatting at his hair while the other one climbed on his lap. Douma laughed at the cat playing with his hair then picked it up and set it in his lap and set it next to the other one and started to pet the cats. He was extremely gentle with the cats considering how much you cared for them. When you came back Douma handed you the cats and kissed you on the cheek then continued on work for his cult. But you did notice he started to spend more time with the cats after that.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo doesn't like animals. He didn't like your cats at first but he kept that to himself and just put up with it since he loves you. So when you asked Kokushibo to watch your cats he just forced a smile and nodded. "Sure, darling. Take your time." He just continued to sit there and watched your cats as they tackled and played with each other. Soon one of the cats walked over to Kokushibo and started to play with the sleeve of his kimono. The other cat followed after the other one and climbed into Kokushibo's lap and fell asleep. Kokushibo shooed the cat that was playing with his kimono away but he didn't wake the cat that was laying in his lap because he didn't really mind I mean it wasn't hurting him so he just kind of sat there. Soon the other cat came back and started to climb into his lap as well the other cat soon fell asleep next to the other one. Kokushibo started to spend a little more time with the cats after that. He denied it whenever you asked if he liked spending time with the cats though.

Enmu

Much like Douma, He likes animals. So he was quite excited when you trusted him enough to let him take care of your cats for a minute. He went over to the cats and let them sniff his hand and then he started to pet them. "Well aren't you two cute!" he spent the whole time you were gone playing with the cats and petting them. When you came back Enmu and both of the cats were asleep. He woke up when he heard footsteps and smiled when he saw you then picked up the cats "here darling!"

Thank you for your request! Have a nice day/night

I went to see the first episode of the swordsmith arc with my girlfriend in theaters a couple weeks ago and omg it was so good demon slayer brain rot is back

#kny x reader #kny headcanons #kny fluff #enmu x you #enmu x y/n #enmu x reader #enmu fluff #kokushibo fluff #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x reader #douma fluff #douma x y/n #douma headcanons #doma x reader #douma x reader #muzan headcanons #muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan fluff #akaza x y/n #akaza x you #akaza fluff #akaza headcanons #akaza x reader

[princeblack]

he's been back in santa monica for months now and still doesn't feel anything but an ache in his chest where his heart was ripped out. it seems like it was just yesterday that salem's mother called off their engagement plans, deciding that regulus wasn't fit to be salem's husband because he wasn't 'an active enough participant' in the cult. which made his own mother angry, because she craved the status that would come with her son being married to the cult's princess. regulus didn't tell her, but he was pretty sure stacy only hated him for getting between her and her daughter when she was going to hit her once.

the reason didn't matter to his parents, anyway; only the result, and how it made the black family look, being banished and relocated to a different city. regulus always knew he wasn't allowed to be anything but perfect with his family. usually he could handle it, but the pressure paired with losing the love of his life became too crippling, causing blow out arguments between him and his mother until finally he packed his belongings and went to visit his brother. he’s familiar with the city already, having lived here with his family before his parents were recruited into the cult, moving out to a small town in the suburbs where killings were easier to pull off.

sirius is the only person in his life, besides salem, that he knows he can relax around. they fight sometimes and he knows sirius resents him for the way their parents doted on regulus and neglected him, but he also knows that sirius is a good brother and has started to learn that being their favorite was its own punishment. regulus isn’t free like sirius; he’s indoctrined into a cult, but more than that he’s psychologically damaged too, unable to function without the structure of pleasing their parents and being what they want him to be.

he’s trying to untangle all of that, so his brother lets him stay awhile. it’s difficult to make any progress on his state of mind when he’s so heartbroken, though. all he can think about, day or night, is salem and how much he wants her. he runs through scenarios in his mind where he could be with her again, most of them involving him killing her new fiancé to get him out of the way. it’s not like he hasn’t already killed people, and besides, theo actually deserves it. regulus was always convinced he was the worst person in cult besides maybe stacy herself.

he also considers the two of them just running away. it wouldn’t be difficult to plan it, since they frequently text and call each other. they’ve almost been carrying on like normal, flirting and even sexting. it’s all he wants to do tonight, feeling exhausted from a shift at the club and just wanting to talk to his girl. he’s laying in bed naked, close to passing out already, when he unlocks his phone and goes to text her.

[text]: are you awake still? i miss you

[text]: and i’m not wearing anything

/ @ghstdoll

#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. salem ) . #Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( prose ) .

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 9

Fun fact: when I was like eight I got an ultrasound done on my chest because of some non-descript heart anomaly. Got to miss a day of school and everything. 

Anyway, on the day of cult girl’s twenty week anatomy scan, Hannibal has second thoughts about putting the baby up for adoption.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: pregnancy and lactation, medical examination

It was a small victory, but a much-needed one.

You kept in close touch with Max and Archie over the next few, crucial weeks. Before you knew it, your first trimester ended. You tried your best to push all worries about your rapidly changing body aside, in favor of your studies. To a point, it worked. You cranked out a few research papers and kept up on your reading, but not as efficiently as you may have wanted. Your body was operating at 100% all the time and you felt like an overheated laptop with the fan running at top speed.

The morning of your twenty-week checkup arrived far quicker than you hoped. You were noticeably pregnant, having put on a good ten extra pounds to support your passenger.

Your phone alarm sounded, telling you to greet the day. You'd been in and out of an uncomfortable state of half-consciousness all night.

"Good morning, my goddess." Hannibal cooed in his admittedly very sexy morning voice. He turned on his side and faced you.

Seeing him with bedhead was definitely the best part of waking up. But the delight quickly faded when you tried to turn on your side and realized you couldn't. You plopped back onto your back, seriously considering if any amount of money was worth this.

"Don't patronize me." You pouted, folding your arms.

"Patronize you?" He chuckled, pulling you into him. "Now why on earth would I do that?"

He cupped your head in his hand and stroked your cheek. "The most divine woman in the world is carrying my baby."

Before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours. His other hand ran down your body, tracing the outline of your firm, round belly.

"And what an honor-" He whispered, weaving his fingers through your hair. "To have Venus herself descend from Olympia to carry my child."

You didn't want to unpack what he was saying. All you knew was you liked it. Your aches seemed to melt away under his touch and your worries dissipated with every word.

"My breasts are so swollen and heavy." You complained. "And they ache so much."

"Is that so?" Hannibal smiled hungrily and propped himself up on his elbows above you. "Well, what is to be done about that, Mrs. Lecter?"

You unbuttoned your pajama shirt, revealing your significantly larger breasts. You blushed and instinctively covered yourself.

Hannibal chuckled and effortlessly pulled your hands off your chest. He lowered his face to where your neck meets your shoulder and took a deep breath in. A pair of warm, gentle hands cupped your breasts.

"You're starting to produce." He observed, a little smile creeping on his face.

Before you could really register what he meant by that, his thumb began to stimulate your swollen nipple. A small drop of milk leaked out, dampening his finger. All you could do was turn red and whimper in embarrassment.

He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it.

"It's a bit thin, but my goodness, it's sweet." He said, as nonchalantly as if he were sampling ice cream.

"Only the best for our baby." You said.

That caught him off guard in the best way. Whether you were playing along or feeling genuinely maternal, he didn't care. He wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to gratify his crippling desire to feel like a father.

"Fuck, [F/N]." He cursed, looking at your protruding belly with awe. Not awe, but worship.

He cleared his throat, chasing away any strong emotions he may have let reveal themselves. "Never mind. Let's get ready to go to the doctor."

You swung your legs over the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing, my darling." Hannibal said, lying professionally. "Everything is wonderful."

You push yourself to your feet and follow him into the bathroom. "Hannibal, please."

He turned around and leaned against the sink. "It's nothing that concerns you, love. Don't worry about it."

You folded your arms. "You don’t need to be a doctoral candidate to recognize deflection."

"So you don't." Hannibal said. "Darling, please understand that I have your best interests at heart. Even if it is at the expense of my desires."

"I see what this is." You nodded. "You want to keep the baby, don't you?"

"I didn't know how much I wanted a child until now." He admitted.

"But you know the emotional and physical toll it'll take on me." You finished.

"I don't know, actually." He corrected, face contorting with frustration. "Thus the basis of my hesitation. There are so many facets of life that can be molded to one's liking, but parenting-"

"I get it." You sighed. "So many things could go wrong, or right, and either way it would throw me off track."

"If I could relieve you of all of the burden of parenting this child, allowing you to step away and finish your schooling unfettered with domestic duties, I would." He said. "But if we're being honest, it's not like you would let me."

"Ruth Bader Ginsburg studied law at Harvard while taking care of a baby." You offered. "And her sick husband."

"I have no doubts in my mind that it is possible, nor that you're capable, darling." He assured you. "But I would never forgive myself if I let you burn yourself out before you even get a chance to take off."

"Okay, look." You took a deep breath. "Let's see what the obstetrician says, assess the risks, weigh the pros and cons and talk to Max and Archie. We will figure this out."

You were counting on the assumption that going for your twenty-week checkup would scare you out of any desires to keep the baby. They often did. The more time you spent with an ultrasound wand in your vagina, the more you became convinced that you'd become implanted with an alien parasite determined to destroy you from the inside.

"Good morning, Dr. And Mrs. Lecter." The obstetrician greeted you as she always did. You hadn't bothered to correct her to save yourself an awkward conversation. "Here for our twenty-week ultrasound, are we?"

"No, I'm here for the taco truck in the parking lot." You said, half-jokingly. The other half was thinking about tacos. "I just thought I'd lay down on this surgical table for fun."

"Good to see you're still hanging on to your sense of humor, [F/N]." She smirked. "Should we take a look under the hood?"

You fought the overwhelming urge to smack your belly like a car salesmen and say "this bad boy can fit so many fetuses in it". But given that there was only one fetus, that would be inaccurate.

The doctor emptied a tube of extra-freezing gel onto your stomach and readied the ultrasound wand. "Have you been feeling any kicks, Mrs. Lecter?"

You shrugged. "Maybe? I wouldn't know what that would feel like so I don't know."

She smiled warmly. "Trust me, you'll know. But don't worry about it. First pregnancies tend to take their time. When you have your next children, it will happen much faster."

"I think you mean," Hannibal said, voice hardening. "If she decides to have more children. Let's not be presumptuous."

The doctor noticed her mistake. "My apologies, Mrs. Lecter. I didn't mean to assume."

You kept your eyes on Hannibal, too afraid to look at the screen as the doctor searched around for a clear image. 

“Oh my goodness, here it is!” She exclaimed with an ear-to-ear grin. 

It took you a minute to make out exactly what she was pointing to. It looked more like a fucked-up Rorschach test than anything resembling a person. You didn't want to say it out loud, but she sensed your confusion.

"This big round part is the head." She said, pointing to the opposite end of the screen. "There's its spine, and there are its little hands and feet."

It hit you all at once. There was a person growing inside of you. And it had limbs, bones and a brain. You finally had the answer to the question "how did something come from nothing". It was right there in front of you.

"Wow." You said, dumbfounded. "My body made that?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" The doctor smiled, clearly still as enamored with her job as she was on day one.

"And it made that without my brain even thinking about it." You continued, trying not to go into a ramble. "That's actually pretty insane."

"I told you that you're a goddess." Hannibal whispered into your ear. "My divine feminine."

"Would you like to know the sex?" She asked. 

“Sure.” You said, without really thinking about it. You looked back at Hannibal, who seemed pretty indifferent too. 

“Congratulations, you’re having a girl.” 

#hannibal x reader #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x reader #pregnancy #domestic fluff #lactation #body worship #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate #more cult girl

[nctsjiho]

Comfortable

warnings: none

❀ Lucas being clingy and wanting JiHo’s comfort

It was exactly 11 o’clock at night on a Friday. JiHo had made herself comfortable in bed, a multitude of pillows cascaded on and next to her bed. With no schedules or practises planned for the weekend, she finally had some time to indulge in her guilty pleasure: internet mysteries. She had a full library of YouTube videos she had yet to watch about all sorts of internet mysteries. Whether it was simply about an unexplained, weird social media account or a possible cult running an online organisation or maybe even an arg (alternate reality game, if you don’t know what that is I highly recommend looking it up but you may go down a rabbit hole if you do. You have been warned), JiHo could watch it for hours on end.

Just as she pressed play on her second video and brought a potato snack up to her lips, her door opened with a slam. “Excuse you-” She started, looking at a dishevelled-looking Lucas walk into her room. “Ugh!” He groaned dramatically as he flailed his long limbs around. JiHo decided not to say anything quite yet, maybe the man would explain himself soon enough. He came to a halt right in front of her bed. It made for an amusing image because from JiHo’s angle Lucas looked even taller than he already was.

The two made eye contact for a split second before Lucas fell to his knees next to JiHo with another dramatic groan. He slightly pushed away the laptop that was resting on the girl’s lap and replaced it with his head. The position must have been extremely uncomfortable, but yet again JiHo didn’t comment on that.

When Lucas didn’t get his expected reaction from JiHo - well, he didn’t get a reaction at all - he opened his eyes to find her already looking at him. “Hi.” He pouted at her before letting out a deep sigh. JiHo’s hands automatically reach for the pouty boy’s hair. He closed his eyes once again. “You know, it’s a bit uncalled for to just slam my door open. You could’ve dented the wall.” Her voice sounded rather monotone, but Lucas knew she was just messing with him. Kinda, he still shouldn’t have slammed open the door. He’ll remember that for next time. At this moment, JiHo knew exactly what Lucas wanted, but decided not to give it to him.

After a few more moments of JiHo gently massaging Lucas’ scalp and playing with his hair, the boy opened his eyes once again. “JiHo~” He whined and now sat up, trying to make himself comfortable on the bed. The girl let out a small giggle at the boy’s struggle before she scoots over a bit to give him more space.

Lucas finally settled by laying down next to the girl and resting his head on her stomach. He intertwined their legs and put as much of his weight on the girl to feel as close to her as possible. “You don’t love me anymore.” He mumbled in her sweatshirt and though the comment was meant as a joke, JiHo could feel her stomach drop the tiniest bit. Her hands had found their way back to his hair and she let the strands flow between her dainty fingers.

“What’s wrong? Did Ten scold you again?” It was almost a whisper, but her words were loud enough in the calm atmosphere. Lucas couldn’t help but chuckle and JiHo could feel the vibrations of his vocal cords against her torso. “No...” Lucas trailed off. His hands circled around the girl’s waist now so he’d be able to hold her closer. At the look of the usually loud giant being so calm and soft, JiHo’s heart melted. “What’s wrong then?” JiHo knew Lucas’ problem wasn’t going to be a serious one, but she still felt a bit of worry clouding her mind.

“I just had a bad day with practise and so many shoots this week.” Lucas lifted his head up to glance at the girl for a second but she wasn’t looking at him. Her head was leaned against the wall and her eyes were closed. He knew she was trying to listen intently to what he was telling her. Lucas laid back down and ended his short story. “I’m just so tired.”

JiHo hummed in understanding. One of her hands falling down to rest on Lucas’ shoulder, the other remaining in his hair. “I’m sorry you have to work so hard. I wish I could do something to lighten the load.” Now it was Lucas’ turn to feel bad.

He - and some of the other boys who experienced this before - hated how JiHo always put the members before herself like that. Lucas found it careless of her, because she never considered how overworked she was as well. The whole of NCT was always working hard, there’s never anyone who’s actually free of work because even without a schedule planned, they still practised individually or worked out to maintain their looks. Idol life wasn’t easy, and that counted for JiHo as well. The problem with the girl was that she never notices she is overworking herself until she is bedridden (luckily the members and managers always catch her before it’s too late).

Caught up in his annoyed thoughts Lucas didn’t notice he still hadn’t replied. “If you want I can come practise with you tomorrow.” She bent her head to meet Lucas’ eyes and sent him a questioning look. “I’ve been there during your practises so I kinda know some of the choreography.” Her smile annoyed Lucas even more, it was so genuine. He felt bad how selfless she was being, this weekend was the first in a while that she was completely free and now she wanted to sacrifice it because he came barging in her room to complain.

He didn’t come over for help, he came over to cuddle and just whine about little things. The plan was that he could just hang out with the girl for a bit until he forgot about his tiring day and then go home happily so he could get a good night of sleep.

“JiHo.” The boy sat up not able to look at her. “What’s wrong? Is it really that bad? I’m sorry I didn’t know-” “No! Just stop it okay?” Lucas shook his head aggressively. JiHo looked confused at his sudden outburst. “Stop being so selfless, it gets so burdensome.” He didn’t realise his words could possibly hurt the girl who was just trying to help him until he saw her bite her bottom lip and avoid his eye contact. “I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Lucas quickly grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. “I’m thankful you care so much for other people, but you need to think of yourself too.” He pulled her in a tight embrace mumbling a few sorry’s until he felt her hand push herself away by his chest.

He didn’t expect her to smile at him. Hadn’t he just hurt her feelings? “I’m sorry, I guess I just do still love you... a lot.” She made a call back to his mumbled comment from a few minutes prior. The sudden display of affection startled Lucas, it wasn’t really like JiHo, but it also made him feel fuzzy on the inside.

JiHo positioned herself so she sat next to Lucas with her back against the wall at the head of the bed. She pulled the blanket over both their legs and grabbed her laptop again. “Since you’re here, do you want to watch a movie or something?” She asked absentmindedly, grabbing the snacks from next to her and already putting on in her mouth.

Lucas smiled, he knew what she was trying to do. She was going to act like nothing just happened and offered to hang out and chill just as Lucas actually wanted in the first place. “Yeah I would love that.” He made himself more comfortable next to the girl, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to his side.

In the end they didn’t really end up watching the show they took way too long choosing, the pair just talked about random moments of their trainee days while JiHo went back to playing with Lucas’ hair (at his request). They laughed the whole night long, teasing each other and gossiping about their colleagues. In the morning Taeyong found them sprawled out on JiHo’s bed, as if they had been out partying the night before and were going to wake up with a serious hangover.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct fluff #nct lucas fluff #wayv fluff #wayv imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

[existential-angstt]

I’m here for the cult stuff? // Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (kinda light smut if I’m honest :/ ), fucking outside / in public, cult stuff? not sure what else I need to say xD

After the church incident, you started hanging around Dio a whole lot more and of course the two of you started dating. He introduced you to his friends, many of whom scoffed a little at you but after a sharp look from their dark overlord softened up and tried to be as welcoming as they could. Once they got to know you a little better of course, you all found things in common and they started treating you like one of their own, some of them even saying hello to you on campus or first bumping you and earning you stares from the normies. 

Your friends heard all about it of course and immediately acted disgusted but once it became apparent you weren’t dropping this, they did their best to adjust and try to find things to like about Dio. Of course it wasn’t important to you if they didn’t like him- they didn’t have to. What mattered was you liked him. 

He’d escort you to classes with an arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders or waist, acting like he couldn’t function without a hand on you in some way. You liked to hook your hand in his belt loop under his coat, the two of you walking in step and talking about deeper meanings in Edgar Allen Poe’s stories or how you’d get away with murder, those sorts of things. You started dressing in darker colors at his urging, started to look more like the kind of person who would date someone like Dio. But even after all the steps you took to incorporate him into your life, you still had yet to infiltrate his so-called “cult”. 

Whenever you came to see him in the basement of Miller, any and all cult talk ceased and everyone acted friendly and light, but you knew as soon as you headed out for your next class the business would resume without you. You hadn’t directly told Dio that you wanted to be involved… you had said, however, that whatever was important to him was important to you, hoping he’d get the message and invite you into the “inner circle”, but alas, there were still a few nights every week he’d kiss you after dinner and disappear until the wee hours of the morning, when he’d come home reeking of incense and other things. 

You hoped to- well, you hoped to something he wasn’t sacrificing animals in the woods, but you were pretty sure that was a little off the wall-- after all, you’d seen how he got around kittens. For all his pomp and circumstance, you seriously doubted that man could hurt a small animal of any kind for any reason. 

So one night when he climbed into bed around 2 in the morning, as you stirred and snuggled into his chest you brought it up. “D?” you mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm? Didn’t realize you were awake, pet,” he said, pulling you close and sighing deeply. “What is it?” 

“Can I come to a cult thingie? A meeting?” you said into his chest, running your hand up his back, tracing the indentions of his spine under his skin. He paused, silent, as though considering. 

“I don’t know if you’d like it much,” he said finally, dodging. 

“Dio-” you groaned.

“I know, little one, I know, what’s important to me is important to you,” he rumbled, pausing again. “I suppose… if you really wanted to…. The best time to come is tomorrow night. It’s a blood moon, and we’re having a special ritual for it,” he replied, stroking your hair. He let out a short chuckle and added, “You wouldn’t wanna be the sacrifice, would you?” You opened one eye against his chest, watching the faint moonlight slipping into the room and tracing the edges of your boyfriend’s form on the bed beside you. 

“What would that entail?” you said, suddenly much more awake, your heartbeat thrumming away. He did that rumble laugh again, the vibration rocking through you as he held you and stroked your hair, tugging on it softly. 

“Nothing too serious… just laying on an altar, letting us pray over you.... Some ritualistic blood spilling… nothing you’re not used to already…,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip your hip to trace one of the faint scars from your adventures in knifeplay. You shivered, feeling yourself get turned on despite still being half asleep. You wriggled under his hand, not wanting to wake yourself up too much. 

“Yeah, I’ll do it, D. I wanna be part of it. For you…,” you mumbled, trailing soft kisses up his chest. 

“Oh, sweet girl. That means a lot,” he murmured, sinking his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply and kissing the soft flesh there, licking and softly sucking a hickey into your throat. 

“‘Kay, horndog, go to sleep. Need sleep if ‘m gonna be a sacrifice for you,” you said, tugging softly on the hair at the base of his neck. He chuckled again and stopped his games, simply holding you close until you both passed out.

__________________

Dio didn’t elaborate at all on what you’d agreed to, simply telling you to meet him outside Miller at 10 pm. He wasn’t going to be around all evening-- he said he needed to “take care of some things” and “prepare”, whatever that meant. You texted him and asked him what to wear around dinner time and his only reply was “black dress”. There was only one dress he could be referring to of course- a floor length lace and tulle number you’d bought recently that you had absolutely nowhere to wear it to. Fitting, for a sacrifice, you figured. 

You slithered into the dress and did your makeup, going bold with lots of dark red eyeshadow that made your eyes pop and black eyeliner. Waiting was the worst part-- sitting on the couch, all dressed up for some fun cult activity, all alone without him…

Finally you could wait no longer and you shrugged on his long leather coat, which he’d left in your apartment (weird, but handy at this moment) and descended the steps down to your car. 

The closest place you could park to Miller Hall was still a bit of a walk, and you were dressed for a party, so your heart was racing the entire time you were walking from the car to the building. You gripped his coat around you as though it would protect you as well as he could himself. The campus was empty, haunting-- everything was well lit, of course. After all, it was a college campus-- but that didn’t stop the feeling of foreboding creeping through your veins. 

You walked fast, a fistful of your dress in one hand to keep you from tripping and your other hand holding Dio’s jacket closed over your chest. You rounded a corner of the building next to Miller Hall and ran squarely into a stranger. 

“Woah- hey there, pretty lady, where you going so late?” said a voice. You looked up, eyes wide as you stumbled backwards. You couldn’t see his face-- he was directly under one of the lamps lighting the walkway so his face was cast in shadow, but he was big and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you. You could see his teeth glinting in the dimness his face was cast in. He took a few steps towards you as you tracked backwards, the urge to run getting stronger. “Hey, wait, don’t go anywhere- you’re dressed for a party,” he said, stalking towards you now. You realized with a start the jacket had fallen open, revealing your dress. You started reaching desperately for the low pocket of Dio’s jacket, where you knew he kept a knife at all times, but you were shaking and still thinking about running. 

Just as the stranger got to the edge of the building, a figure slid out of the shadows and stepped between the two of you, squaring up with the stranger. Whoever it was was just as tall as the opposing figure, and the stranger was clearly startled at the person’s appearance. 

“You wanna rethink that, asshole?” 

That was Dio’s voice- you stared at the two of them, still frozen in place. The stranger’s posture changed immediately. He went from opposing and overshadowing to something similar to what you were doing- pulling back, preparing to bolt. “Y-you’re-” 

“Mmmhmm. Now, scurry, rat,” Dio growled, traces of satisfaction in his voice. The stranger needed no further urging; he spun around and continued on his way, grumbling but speedwalking down the lit walkway between buildings. Dio turned around, still cloaked in shadow and ran over to you. “Hey, hey- are you okay? Did he touch you?” he said softly, all trace of aggression gone as he patted you down looking for injuries and wrongdoings. 

“D- Dio, I’m fine, I’m okay- I’m good,” you said, waving him off of you but taking his hand in yours tightly. 

“Baby, you need to check your phone. I told you to stay at the car until I came to get you,” he said, his eyes flashing concernedly in the dimness. 

“Dio, I’m fine, I’m fine. Now let’s go-” you said, picking up the skirt of your dress and still holding his hand. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, looking back towards where the stranger had been and then at you. He paused, his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t read his face in the darkness. 

“What?” 

“You… you look really pretty,” he said softly, still unmoving. 

Taken aback, you blinked at him and then a soft smile came across your face. 

“You like it?” you said, swishing your skirt around and doing a little twirl for him. 

“You look perfect, little dove. Now come on,” he said, nodding up at the red full moon, “we’re gonna miss it.” He led you back down the walkway, his hand still in yours, the two of you hurrying around the corner and into Miller Hall with the covertness of teenagers breaking into a movie theater. 

The usually well-lit hall was mostly dark with only some of the hazy yellow lights on, and the basement was even more so. Dio led you back down the stairs to where you’d first met him, back through the double doors and into the huge room that used to be the university pools. Everything was pitch black and it took your eyes a moment to adjust; only then did you realize there was a source of light. Down inside the indention in the floor where the pool used to be were about 20 of Dio’s followers, hooded and cloaked; you could recognize the main six of them in the center, all your friends. 

You looked up at your boyfriend as he started gently pulling his own leather jacket from your shoulders. You shrugged out of it and he set it on the edge of the pool, taking you by the hand and leading you over to the stone steps that led into the concrete pit. You followed him down carefully, sure not to step on your skirt as you went down the steps. 

Dio led you over to the group of darkly dressed individuals who all watched you expectantly. Once you got over there, you could see they’d set up a makeshift altar on a desk someone had brought down and candles flickered on the tabletop. There were symbols carved into the wood and flower petals were scattered everywhere, incense making the room heavy with aroma. 

Dio motioned for you to kneel in front of the altar so you were eye level with it, and as you did, so did everyone else. Dio was the only one who stayed standing, still holding your hand and walking around the altar carefully. He glanced down at you, an unfamiliar glint in his eye, and then he looked around at everyone else. “Let’s begin.”

______________________________

Being a sacrifice was exactly what Dio had described. Basically, he began chanting in Latin and the others repeated what he said back to him, their voices echoing around the large chamber. After fifteen minutes of what was utter gibberish to you, Dio picked up a silvered dagger from the altar and dragged it across your palm, the red of your blood stark against your skin in the candlelight. 

You gasped lightly and looked up at him, his deep brown irises glowing amber in orangey glow. He was smirking softly but his eyes were soft-- he was playing it up, keeping on that cult leader facade but still speaking to you silently with his eyes, saying things to you that only you could hear. You knew that even though he was still their god, that he was playing king to his little cult that he was all too human when he was looking at you now, silently searching every micro expression for any sign you wanted to stop. 

You looked back at him calmly as he raised your open palm to the altar and turned it over, pressing it to the carved surface of the desk, right in the center of the arcane symbols. You didn’t make a sound when your hand touched the desk, didn’t even wince. His smirk grew slightly and you could feel the profound pride rolling off of him; still, it was perhaps something only you could see, could read in him. 

Dio said one more phrase in Latin and the congregation repeated it, the sound echoing harshly in the concrete pit and meaning absolutely nothing to you. The illusion seemed to fall then; the stiffness of everyone’s forms dropped and the grouping of people thinned out as everyone started to leave. Many headed for the stairs at the far end of the pool, but some boosted themselves up on the concrete ledge. Whatever the case, they cleared out quickly, sweeping off in their cloaks to Hell knows where. 

In moments it was just you and Dio and he was lifting your wounded hand gently off the altar, clutching it close as though it were his own injured hand. He produced a black silk cloth from one of his pockets and wrapped it around your hand, weaving it in between your fingers, meeting your eyes every so often as he did so. He tied a pretty knot in it, tightening the fabric against the cut and you finally let yourself show a sign of pain, your mouth twitching downwards, just for a second. 

“Oh, little dove, you did so well,” he said, drawing you into his arms and holding you tightly, spinning you around. “So, so well…,” he hummed, pulling back to look at you in the dimness. 

“Did… did I do all right?” you said, a little shaken by his change in demeanor. 

“Of course you did, love, of course. You were-” he shook his head, “-perfect.” You blushed a little and smiled up at him as he stared down at you. At this angle his face was cast in darkness again and you couldn’t see it. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, taking your hands and guiding you towards the stairs quickly. 

“W- where are we going, D?” you said, eyes widening. He hadn’t said- 

“Gotta finish the ritual, dove,” he said darkly, still pulling you up the stairs and towards the double doors. 

“But D, your coat-”

“We’ll come back before we go home, dove, now come on,” he hissed, tugging at you urgently. You shut your mouth finally, trusting him and hiking your skirt up in one hand to try to keep up with his hurried steps. He led you up the steps in the dark, so sure of his motions, so used to finding his way in and out of this building in the absence of light. 

He didn’t move fast enough to trip you up-- he slowed when he could sense you having trouble, and he held the door open as the two of you burst out into the cool night air, the crickets singing and your panting breaths the only other sounds. 

“What-” you started but he grabbed you and kissed you deeply, surprising you. You leaned into it, grabbing his hips to steady yourself and kissed him softly, basking in him. 

“Come on,” he whispered, keeping his face close to yours as though he were fighting himself to keep his mouth off yours. He took your hand in his again and led you around the shadowy side of the building, meaning you had to rely on him to guide you down the stone path. 

The two of you hurried through the night, weaving in and out of buildings, using the light of the orangey moon to find your way. It wasn’t long for you to figure out where he was taking you-- there was only one place he could be going. “Dio-” 

“Hush, dove.” 

You found yourselves in the campus gardens, full of hedges and delicate blooms and sweet scents that could be accessed via stone pathways that circled ponds and a small white gazebo. Once you were in the gardens, Dio seemed to relax a little, to slow down as he looked up at the swollen moon. 

“D, what are we doing here?” you said softly, following him over to the entrance of the gazebo. Your boyfriend turned back to look at you, taking both of your hands in his and backing up into the gazebo, pulling you after him. 

“Gonna finish the ritual, dove. Gotta… consummate it,” Dio said, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. 

“Dio-” you gasped a little.

“Shh, little dove. You’re safe. Why don’t we… invoke something?” he said and then his mouth was on yours. You moaned into him a little bit and his grip on you tightened, your dress riding up a few inches. Dio slipped his tongue into your mouth, hot and wanting, as he backed you up against the rail of the gazebo, the wood digging into your lower back. You brought a hand up to grab his hair at the base of his neck, tugging, as his mouth trailed away from yours and across your jaw. 

“Dio-” 

“Shhh”

Dio trailed kisses down your neck, sucking marks into your throat as his hands worked their way upwards to your chest, grabbing and kneeding gently. You felt him draw you into him, his face buried in your collarbone as his hands made their way to the back of your dress, pulling at your zipper. 

“D- Dio-” you stammered, tugging at his hair sharply.

He looked up, breathing heavily, his eyes glimmering in the half light. You stared at each other, transfixed, and you felt him slowly pull down the zipper of your dress, the material sliding down your shoulders and hitting the wooden floor of the gazebo. You blinked at him in the half light, now in your under things and his eyes roved over your body slowly, his tongue swiping across his lower lip. 

Your breath hitched and his hands settled on your hips again, his face turned down towards yours and his hot breath hitting your face. “Please let me take you, little dove. Right here, under the moon. Do it for me, please,” he murmured, kissing up your neck, his raven black hair glossy under the moonlight. You let a moan escape your lips and rested your hands on his chest, pressing into him. 

Dio slid his hands down to your ass and picked you up, turning you both around and setting you down on the floor, laying you out and climbing on top of you. You felt him grind down against your hips as he kissed you, his arms caging you in. It was no time before he was pushing your bra up and nibbling at your nipples, kissing and sucking and squeezing your tits more softly than was usual for him. 

“D- Dio, we- we’re outside, anyone c-” 

He silenced you with another glance up at your eyes, not saying anything but communicating all he needed to. Wasn’t like you two hadn’t fucked in public before- 

His mouth came back up to yours, kissing you again and pulling your bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you cry out. You reached up to grab at his hips, following the edge of his pants to find his zipper and pull at it, unbuttoning and button and sliding them down his hips. You felt him smirk against you and heard his breathy laugh but he didn’t stop you and seconds later he was as exposed as you were and you had him in your hands. You gave him a few slow pumps, making him tense up and moan noisily-- that was when he reached down to pry your hands away, to take back control. 

You gasped as he slid into you, all of the sounds of the night suddenly seeming so much louder, every animal noise just a bystander in danger of finding you two, in the middle of the gardens- 

He let out a low groan and you whimpered at the beautiful sound. “F- fuck, Dio- s- so pretty,” you mumbled, gripping his shoulders. He murmured something and you said, “W-what?” 

“N-not the p-pretty one, dove.” 

Your eyes widened a little at the compliment and you bucked your hips up a little as he started moving so torturously slowly, thrusting in and out of you like he had all the time in the world. “Dio,” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

“Patience, little dove, be patient,” he said, reaching up to trail his thumb across your jaw. Gradually he started moving faster and you thrust your own hips upwards to meet him, grabbing at his hair and pulling him back down to your mouth so you could kiss him again. 

It was definitely the most intense time you’d ever had with Dio (since the church, at least). The perfumes of the different flowers were heavy in your nose and the humidity was drenching you both in a sheen of sweat. The moon hung over the two of you, the roof of the gazebo keeping out most of the light but the rest of the orangey glow illuminating the gardens around you. 

“Mine… all… mine, little dove,” he mumbled, kissing your chest and circling your clit with a thumb. 

“Y-yours, please, Dio-” 

He growled and fucked you harder, speeding up his assault on your clit. You moaned loudly, no longer caring who saw you, who caught the two of you doing this- 

“F- Dio, I’m g- gonna-” you whimpered. 

Dio chanted something in Latin, very quickly and very softly, so soft you could barely here it, as though he were begging for you to cum for him, praying for it, and with a shout you did. He didn’t stop the Latin after you came, only ceasing once he had, still murmuring meaningless phrases as he collapsed on top of you, panting and kissing you softly. 

“Little dove…. Thank you, thank you-” he was saying, pressing his lips to your skin over and over. You trembled and pulled him close, wrapping your whole body around his. Once you were both able to stand, Dio helped you back into your dress and the two of you started walking back to your car in the darkness. He stepped off the path for just a moment and made a quick grabbing motion at one of the bushes and when he turned back to you, he held a pure black lily in his hand, offering it to you. You sighed shakily and took it, inhaling deeply. 

“Dio?” you said, tracing the petals with your fingers and taking his hand in your other one. 

“Hm?” 

“I love you.”

“‘Love you too, lil dove.”

#NYPD Blue #Pedro Pascal #shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader

[fvckyouimaprophet]

lights low, flames high

5x11 alternate ending where tabitha and betty "vibe" while they're on shrooms, and by vibe i mean make out | read on ao3

The music bounces off the bunker walls—small and insulated as it is—and melts into Betty until she’s not sure where it ends and she begins. Then again, she supposes the shrooms are partly to blame. She’s never been good at relinquishing control, and Jessica’s words loop in her head. Let the trip take you wherever it may go. She’s certain that the budding anxiety in the pit of her stomach is not what Jessica meant. It doesn’t help that the last time she was drugged— 

Her nails dig into her palm, cutting off that thought. Deep breaths.

“What is this?”

Tabitha’s question makes her jump—the thought of anyone else in the room long out of Betty’s mind.

“What?”

“This music.”

“Oh, it’s from Hair,” Betty says.

“That’s that anti-Vietnam musical?” Her lips betray her, quirking upwards in amusement, but nonetheless, Tabitha sways along with it and drags her finger along the edge of the table.

“Most of my musical theatre knowledge comes from Kevin,” Betty admits. She closes her eyes and runs her fingers along the bed. So many memories for a hole in the ground—and mistakes too.

She pushes the thought out of her mind and focuses instead on the feel of the fabric and the pilled polyester of the pillow cover. Its touch is strangely satisfying and absorbing.

“Can I lay down too?” Tabitha asks, and Betty blinks her eyes open and back into focus as the room swims around her—the red of the lava lamp making the walls look aflame. Betty nods her head before she recalls the spare mattress and hobbles up.

“Wait, I have a better idea.” She tugs at the edge of the mattress, but her grip slips and tugs the bedsheet off instead. It’s hard to focus with her body floating, and she stumbles backward.

“Careful!” 

Before Betty can fall into the table, Tabitha places a hand on each of Betty’s arms and steadies her with a light squeeze. As unexpected as it is, the sudden warmth of someone beside her feels nice, and her breath catches in her throat. With Tabitha this close, Betty notices—not for the first time—the scene of her perfume. It’s oddly comforting, if unfamiliar. She breathes in slowly, careful not to give herself away.

“Thanks,” Betty says, and when she turns around, Tabitha’s hands drop. The sudden lack of contact is inexplicably disappointing, but her mind can’t focus enough to linger on it. The music swells around them, swallowing them both, judging by the look on Tabitha’s face.

“What were you trying to do?” Tabitha asks.

“There’s a spare mattress. We can just move them to the floor if I can just…” She tugs at the mattress again, careful this time not to grip it by the bedsheet. And when it starts to budge, she grins.

“Let me help.”

They make quick work of pushing the table to the side and getting the mattresses to the floor, especially considering how much of a chore it is to move at all. It’s not the most graceful she’s ever been, but here in the comfort of the bunker, there’s little to worry about. 

And the shrooms—Betty has to begrudgingly admit they make things a little softer at the edges. The moment Betty thinks she’s grasped a thought, it's out of reach. With everything that’s happened with Polly and the chaos of Charles and Chic, it’s a relief to be floating, untethered.

“You know this music isn’t half-bad, but I don’t know how Jessica had time to prepare it when we weren’t paying attention,” Tabitha says, and Betty rolls on her side to face her.

“I still can’t believe she drugged us. And then left us here with some music like that makes it all okay!”

They look at each other, the intensity of Jessica’s actions washing over them before Tabitha bursts out laughing. “I have to admit, this isn’t how I imagined spending my night, but it’s not so bad. You’re not the wet blanket Jughead made you out to be.”

The words linger between them for a second, Jughead’s name harsh and unforgiving.

“I shouldn’t have brought him up,” Tabitha quickly adds.

“It’s fine,” Betty says and is surprised by the fact that she means it. The silence draws out for another moment, and Tabitha rolls over onto her side as well. With their mattresses on top of one another, it means that Tabitha’s face is inches apart from hers. 

It’s an intimacy Betty’s nearly forgotten. Glen hardly counts; half the time, Betty doesn’t remember him—which says something considering his role in recent events. And her training hasn’t lent itself to many new friendships. But now, with Tabitha so close that Betty can smell the artificial sweetness of a strawberry milkshake on her breath, it feels reassuring.

“What do you think of Riverdale so far?” Betty asks.

Tabitha laughs and puts a hand under her head, propping it up. “I’ve… never seen a place quite like it.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“What’s yours?”

“Haunted. Or… Sometimes I wonder what I’m fighting for. I grew up here, and I have all these memories, but it feels like I’m holding onto something that’ll never exist. I used to think the town would heal itself—that the bad things that happened were the exception, but I’m not so sure I think that anymore. When it was just Jason and Mr. Blossom, that felt like an anomaly. But then it turned out my dad was a serial killer and Veronica’s was a power-hungry egomaniac, and Jughead’s mom came to town and rallied the Ghoulies to sell Jingle Jangle, and—”

“Jughead’s mom did what?” Tabitha asks and stares, horrified and wide-eyed.

The absurdity of it all hits Betty until she can’t help but smile. “Oh yeah. And that’s hardly the highlights reel.” Her filter’s too far gone to stop herself, so she adds, “You know, we set her drug lab on fire.”

Tabitha shakes her head and laughs in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“And I haven’t even told you about the cult, or the creepy video store that sold pornos and illegally filmed sex tapes.”

“My grandfather told me some stories—mostly about Hiram and Veronica, for obvious reasons.” She hangs her free hand over the mattress, close to Betty, and Betty glances down, distracted by it. “And hey, maybe you’re right that this place is cursed, but I gotta believe in it. I’ve invested everything into Pop's, and as fucked up as Riverdale is, I don’t think it’s a lost cause. And I don’t think you’d have chosen to stay here if you thought that either.”

Betty bites her tongue, ignoring the automatic urge to argue. “Maybe,” she says, but her voice doesn’t sound entirely believable, even to her own ears.

Tabitha reaches out prods Betty’s shoulder with her two fingers—light and teasing. “I can practically see the effort it’s taking you not to disagree.”

There’s no use lying. The shrooms have made sure any knack she has for it is out of reach. “Sorry.”

“It’s a little rude, but I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” She smirks at Betty, and it strikes Betty that Tabitha must be as at ease as she feels. The Flesh Failures—her favorite song from the soundtrack—starts to play, and Betty adjusts herself, dropping her hand just slightly until her fingers touch Tabitha’s.

It’s silly perhaps. But she can’t stop the thought of Tabitha’s hands on her arms from flickering through her mind. It’s been so long since she’s found a touch that she hasn’t wanted to pull away from but, instead, lean into. She waits for Tabitha to move her hand back to her mattress, but she doesn’t. The realization takes a second to settle in as Betty watches, her stomach tightening in anticipation.

When she glances up, Tabitha is staring at her.

“I can—” Betty starts, pulling her hand back, but Tabitha reaches out, her fingers hooking around Betty’s to stop her.

“You don’t need to.”

Her world feels fuzzy around the edges, and Betty can’t stop herself as she lets out a breathy oh. The sound of her own heart rises over the music, and she’s suddenly aware of how hot the room is. Next to her, Tabitha inhales sharply through her nose and leans in.

Betty’s hit with a brief moment of clarity just before they kiss. It cuts through her, all the emotions she’s kept curled inside spilling out. They wrap around her as the song starts to wind down, and their lips meet. It’s tentative and gentle, careful to give Betty room to move back if she wants.

But she’s tired of overthinking. Her body aches from near-sleepless nights punctuated by nightmares. All she knows is that Tabitha’s lips feel soft and inviting, and, for once, she isn’t going to question it. Betty leans in, sinking into the kiss as she reaches out and wraps her fingers around Tabitha’s shirt.

Tabitha cups Betty's jaw, and the feel of her skin against hers is electric. Betty’s eyes close, and a small whine leaves her lips as she tries to steady herself against the rush of blood in her head and the dip in her stomach. The high is still riding full force, amplifying each little movement they make, and it’s all too much.

Betty pulls back, breathing deeply and quivering.

“You okay?” Tabitha asks. She squeezes Betty’s hand as her brow furrows with concern.

“Yeah, I—” Betty struggles to find the right words, so she just nods her head and concentrates on her breathing until she settles into her body once more.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” Tabitha says, although she doesn’t look like she quite believes it.

“This,” Betty says, motioning to herself, “has nothing to do with you kissing me. Or, if it does, it’s in a good way.” A cautious grin spreads across her face. “Can’t say I saw that coming from you, though.”

“Well, you should know better than to underestimate me.” Tabitha grins back.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The sound of the needle in the runout groove fills the silence, and Betty sucks in a sharp breath before pulling herself up with some difficulty, aware of how heavy her body feels. The mattresses, even just on the floor, look appealing.

“How do you feel about sleeping?” Tabitha asks, echoing Betty’s thoughts.

“I feel great about it.” Betty steps over to the record player, lifting the needle up and turning it off before making her way back. She half-falls as she sprawls back out.

Against the scratchy fabric of the mattress, her body feels weightless. It doesn’t take long for her to start to drift. She focuses on the sound of Tabitha breathing beside her until her mind starts to wander half toward dreams.

Just on the precipice of sleep, a hand brushes against hers, warm and familiar. Betty smiles, and the dreams overtake her.

#tabitha tate #betty cooper #tabetty #babitha #riverdale #riverdale fic #my fics

[obiwanobi]

It has always annoyed me that the Light Side and Dark Side of the Force are tepid Good vs Evil dynamic isn't of Apollonian and Dionysian. The Sith aren't very passionate about anything but Conquest and Revenge. WHERE ARE THE MASSIVE SPACE ORGIES, EMOTIONAL EXCESS, AND MADNESS? Seduce to the Dark Side, should be 'Seduce' to the Dark Side, leave the robe on the floor and come to bed.

YES I LOVE THIS 

 I get why Lucas wanted a good vs evil battle in star wars, and that’s why we have such a strong dichotomy between Jedi and Sith, but I would love to have more options here, while still keeping the light and dark side system. You can’t tell me that there wasn’t any schism in the Jedi Order since its creation centuries ago, that a faction of Jedi couldn’t or wouldn’t follow parts the Code or recognise the authority of the Council, and decided to leave and settle their own little community of Force-sensitive people living together with their own goals and rules. 

So I want to believe that it’s also a possibility for the dark side, that you have Sith going “yeah I love using the Force for my own selfish pleasure and everything, but I’m not really into fighting or getting absolute power to rule the galaxy, can I just get drunk and high by a massive force-induced suggestion, start a cult to worship the Force but basically consists of seducing people, dancing naked in the woods at night and slowly turning into a giant orgy instead?” and that would be IT, they’re just here to enjoy themselves with the help of the Force, let their instincts guide them into chaotic excess but nothing related to war, carnage or power because they have no interest in battles, and hey, they’re not even carrying a weapon anyway (”A lightsaber? why would I need a lightsaber? I mean, I could think of one use, but it would a bit impractical”) 

Now think about the poor Jedi who are sometimes sent to ‘check to see if this one dark side faction we have no idea how to handle hasn’t gone completely off track, they’re not good force-users and have a reputation of playing fast and loose with people’s consent and general mind-tricks, but no one has complained yet so we can’t just kill or restrain them’ and the second the satyrs and maenads dark siders lay their eyes on a pristine, restrained, guarded Jedi who is asking them questions and trying very hard to stay serious and professional, they consider it a personal challenge to seduce them and make them lose their moral high ground and rigid facade at least for one night 

#'leave the robe on the floor and come to bed' god i love it #meanwhile 'real' sith are so ashamed about them that they just pretend they don't exist #asks #anon #sw discussions #au

[thatsgay-writes]

Waverly Earp x Reader

Summary: You’re part of a werewolf community in Purgatory and your mate is Waverly.

Warnings: Light cursing?

(Your wolf form and jacket that everyone in your pack wears. I made Waverly and Champ break up earlier, like before episode 1, because I've only watched 5 episodes so far and don't know when they break up.)

Being mated to a human wasn't an impossible thing, uncommon at most, but being a wolf with the alpha gene being mated to a human was never heard of. When your a pup, for the first 5 years of your life you go to the pack hospital to look at the newborns in hope of imprinting. You never imprinted on any of the wolfs and that scared your parents into thinking you were mate less. Which was not a good thing considering that you were next in line to lead the pack and needed to continue the bloodline, alpha's never birth the heirs no matter the gender. It wasn't til you went out into town the first time that you imprinted, on Waverly Earp. Your parents had no idea what to do, you had a mate now but they were human and wolves weren't supposed to reveal themselves unless absolutely needed. Of course, there were whispers all through Purgatory about your pack and how they all thought you were a cult or something, some even thought you were wolfs. The leather jackets and walking into town to get food and beer in groups of three probably didn't help. The only people who knew about werewolves were Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. Against your parents wishes, you did befriend Waverly in high school and had been acquaintances since you graduated. Giving each other the occasional nod or quick hi in passing or when you went to Shorty's with your friends to get a drink.

You had just heard that Waverly's Uncle died, of course only three days after Champ breaks up with her, and that Wynonna might be coming back to town. So after alpha training, you snuck out. You went to Shorty's when you knew Waverly had a break and went up to the room that was now just hers. You knock on the door, quietly but firmly. "Waverly?" You say, hoping she hears you or maybe she's asleep. You knock again before putting your hand on the door knob, which is unlocked. Your eyes widen in surprise that the door is unlocked and against your better judgement slowly turn the handle to open the door. You frown at the sight of Waverly curled up in her bed, tear stains covering her face. You knew that you should probably leave, so she didn't wake up to see you in her room staring at her but your wolf would kick you if you did that. You walked towards the small bathroom in the room and wet a face cloth. You walk back over to Waverly and softly start wiping the tear stains away. Waverly does end up waking up, slowly, but you focus on your work instead of freaking out. "Y/n?" You give her a small smile before finishing up wiping her face and laying the face cloth out to dry. You go back to where you were before and crouch down again. "Yeah?" "Why are you here?" You let out a sigh at her question. "Well I heard about Champ, an absolute idiot by the way, and your Uncle, and that Wynonna might be coming back to town. I thought you could use a friend right now." Waverly gives you a smile and grabs your hand, causing your wolf to go crazy. "Come on, I know crouching like that isn't comfy." Waverly says motioning to her bed. You raise your eyebrow in surprise and confusion. Waverly rolls her eyes, "What your here and I haven't had anyone to cuddle with in a while and I'm grieving." You roll your eyes but get into the bed with her, making sure there was a obvious amount of space between the two of you. Waverly, of course, completely ignores the space you tried to leave and rolls over onto you and lays her head on your chest. You feel like your heart is beating out of your chest and your wolf is yelling at you to mark her. When you wake up the next day, still in bed with Waverly, you know your screwed. You swiftly but quietly get out of bed and put pillows down to take your place. You try to sneak back into camp but get caught by one of the guards on duty. "Y/n? Where have you been? I have to take you to your parents." You groan, knowing your about to be in a whole ton of trouble.

You did get in trouble, it would have been better if you had spent the night with a random person but spending it with Waverly made it worse. You weren't allowed out the house for the whole day. To say you were bored was an understatement. The next day, when your finally free, you immediately go to find Waverly to apologize for just disappearing. But when you get to the room, it looks ransacked and Waverly was no where to be seen. You run out of the room and run to Gus's house and see blood on the floor. "Shit." You mumble, trying to think of where the Earps could be. The Homestead, you thought before running out the house again. You have no idea why they would go there but it was the only place you could think of. You make sure no one is around before changing into your wolf form. You take off in a sprint and almost trip when you see whats going on. Wynonna is sitting in front of Waverly in a protective manner, Peacemaker no where to be see, and a revenant aiming a gun at them. You also see a black van coming but it's going to take too long. You decide that this is one of those life or death moments when your allowed to reveal yourself and you figure it's okay since the Earp's know about revenants anyways, so they should be able to handle the idea of werewolves.

So you dart forwards towards the revenant and right before he can fire a shot, you tackle him. You and the revenant roll around some in the dirt fighting and by that time the black van had fully pulled up with Dolls getting out with his gun drawn. "Don't shoot!" Waverly yells at him, she doesn't know why but something about the wolf is familiar to her. You are finally able to get your mouth around the revenants throat and "kill" him. You step off of and away from the body once your completely sure the revenant is taken out. You look over at Waverly and Wynonna to see that Waverly got the rope off of her neck and that Wynonna had retrieved Peacemaker and was pointing it at you. You looked behind you to see a guy who was also pointing a gun at you. You walked away from the body slowly, making sure to stay in the middle of the three people, and nudge your head towards the revenant looking at Wynonna. She seems to get what your saying and moves forwards slowly, still not fully trusting you. You would have bowed your head to show that you meant no harm but it was not known of alpha's to bow to anyone except elders or the previous alpha. You also would have transformed back to human form too but your wolf was experiencing too much adrenaline from fighting after so long. You let out a howl of pure adrenaline and one that signified that there needed to be a meeting after Wynonna shot the revenant. Your howl caused the man behind you to tense, like he expected something to happen.

You finally felt your self calm down and didn't know if you should super reveal yourself or not. You decided that if you did, you would be in trouble but at the same time you could finally be completely honest to Waverly about what she was to you and how you had actually developed feelings for her over the years. You felt your bones start to shift and slowly felt yourself stand back up to normal height. "Y/n?" Waverly said in confusion. Wynonna and Dolls looked at Waverly confused, guns still drawn. "Umm, surprise?" You say chuckling nervously. "How? Who? What?" Waverly says walking up to you and doing a few laps around you before stopping and standing right in front of you. By now, Wynonna and Dolls had put their guns away and were watching the scene before them unfold. "You're a... wolf?" "Werewolf, technically." You correct her, rubbing the back of your neck. "And I thought revenants were the only thing different in Purgatory. Damn, was I wrong." "I know you have questions, which I can totally answer but I feel like there is one more thing I should tell you." Waverly looks up at you confused, causing you to feel even more nervous. "Well besides the fact that I am in love with you and have been since junior year..." You say causing everyone's mouths to drop in shock. "Your in...?" You interrupt Waverly, "Please let me finish. But yes, yes I am. You are also my mate." Waverly, having common knowledge about wolfs, mouth drops even more. "Mate!?"

#waverly earp x reader #wynonna earp #female x reader #female character

[areiton]

a bright pure pain - stevetony fic

I wrote a short fic set in the Tattoo AU created by @pineapplebread​! 

Read on AO3 

~*~ 

It’s Bucky, who starts it. 

Bucky who lies in bed with Sam, and traces his fingers over the black lettering, and Sam watches him, dark eyes calm and warm and when Bucky murmurs against his throat, “Tell me,” Sam did, spun out stories about the man he loved, before the sky exploded and tore him away. 

Riley came first, and maybe, truthfully, Riley is the one who starts it. 

~*~ 

Sometimes, when they’re out, Bucky will reach out, his fingers brushing over the plane of Sam’s stomach, over the smooth stretch of skin where he knows Riley’s name sits. Sam goes still, always, when it happens, his gaze tracking his boyfriend. 

It happens often enough that Tony notices, because Tony notices everything, tracks the metal hand on Sam’s ribs, the way that Sam’s gaze ticks to Bucky, his smile a little sad. 

“What is it?” he asks, and Sam shrugs. 

“Tattoo. I got it right after I got out,” he says, easy, like he isn’t baring a part of himself, squishy and vulnerable, to Tony’s curious gaze. 

Tony nods, and turns the conversation to the mission Bucky and Sam had gone one, almost tactful in giving Sam space. 

It’s progress.

~*~  

Steve is quiet, after they’re gone, but it’s not the tense kind of quiet that makes Tony anxious, it’s--quiet, comfortable, pensive almost. He watches Steve from across the room as he makes dinner, his eyes distant, like he’s lost in memories. 

It’s still strange that they’re here, together. After--

After everything. The war and Thanos and the long empty years when he clung to bitterness and anger because it was so much easier than admitting what he wanted. After the last gasp of hope, and the months spent trapped together in the past, and that battle when Steve had knelt next to him and he lay dying--

After thinking, it wouldn’t be so bad, to die, if Steve was next to him when he did. 

Well. 

He pushes that thought aside because they’re friends now, finally, pieced themselves back together, and it was the idiotic thought of a dying man, not the rational one sitting in his living room, on his way back to healthy and whole. 

Tony makes a face, feels the scars pull. Not whole. He’d never be whole again. 

“Hey,” Steve says, soft, tugging his attention from the spiral and Tony blinks up at him. “You went away,” Steve says, and Tony flushes. He shifts a little, his legs folded under him as Steve sits down next to him and passes him a bowl of chicken chowder. It’s thick, hearty. There’s a heel of bread, oven warm and garlicky, from the bakery down in Queens that Peter knows he likes. 

He wants, more than he’s wanted anything in a long time, a cheeseburger. 

“Hey, Steve?” he says, and Steve flicks a look at him, curious and patient, and Tony almost bites back the words. 

Steve made dinner. 

They should eat it. 

“Wanna go get a burger with me?” he asks, instead, and a smile, small and real, spreads across his lips. 

~*~ 

They don’t go out often. The public adoration since the battle had been--disconcerting. 

Tony was used to being watched, to being adored. What he wasn’t used to was the fervent outpouring of gratitude that so easily tipped toward almost cult-like. 

“People need to thank someone,” Rhodey said, the one time Tony brought it up. “We’re keeping an eye on the extremists.” 

It’s enough to keep him in the Tower. If it wasn’t, the empty space at his right, the scars snaking up and over his face, shoulder and ribs--they were enough. 

His hand trembles a little, as they reach the garage, and Steve catches his hip, guides him forward until they’re standing by his old bike, the one that Tony is a little surprised to see still running. “Steve. I can’t,” he says, helpless, and Steve smiles, softly. 

“Gotta trust me, Tony,” Steve says, patient and hopeful, holding two helmets and waiting. 

He always waited , let Tony make that last step. 

“I’ll fall,” he says, the fear bright and bitter in his throat. 

“I’ll catch you,” Steve promises. 

Tony can feel this--the heat of tears in his eyes, the burning warmth of Steve’s steady gaze, the way everything settles as that easy promise settles over him with the weight of a vow. 

He nods, a jerky thing, and Steve’s smile blooms, bright as sunshine. 

~*~ 

He rides cradles against Steve’s broad chest, and it’s dangerous, he knows it is. 

Everything about their lives are dangerous, though, and this--here--the only way to hurt him, is to go through Steve, and Tony thinks Steve would rip the universe apart, to keep that from happening. 

He closes his eyes, presses back against the steady strength of him, and Steve leans into him, solid and grounding as the city whips by. 

~*~ 

Steve takes them to a greasy dinner in Brooklyn, where an old waitress named Delores delivers  messy cheeseburgers, enormous plates of fries, and a thick chocolate shake. 

It’s everything he’s been craving for months. 

Steve ignores him while he works his way through his own cheeseburger, doesn’t offer to help when Tony grapples with holding it. 

He quit offering to help after the first two months, when they got into a screaming match and Tony hid in his bedroom for three days. Sometimes, Tony was pretty sure he could see the want in his eyes, could see his fingers twitch towards helping before he forced himself still, a strained smile on his lips, but it happened less and less, and he almost didn’t mind, these days. 

Steve didn’t offer to help because he thought Tony needed it--he offered because he did. 

“Cut it in half for me,” he says, and Steve smirks, reaches over and neatly divides the burger while Tony picks at the fries. 

“Did you know?” 

Steve arches an eyebrow at him, and Tony hides his smile behind half his burger. “About Flybird’s ink?” 

Steve chews, his eyes distant and restless, but eventually swallows and says, “No. I--I kinda suspected, but there’s just some things you don’t ask about.” 

They’re quiet, lost in thought and food and Tony’s considering the second half of his burger when Steve blurts out, “I had a tattoo. For Bucky.” 

Tony goes still, eyes wide and searching. They hadn’t--the one night they’d spent together, when fighting gave way to fucking in Clint’s cramped guestroom, it had been dark. He might have missed a tattoo, then--and he hadn’t seen Steve naked even when they were trapped in the past looking for that goddamn stone, but he’d seen enough and if it was any more intimate, he might need to re-evaluate everything he’d been thinking, recently, everything he quit thinking, after they left the farm and Tony left the team, and Steve did. 

He blinks the thoughts away, focuses on Steve.  

“It--after he fell, one of the Howlies did one for me. Just a nautical star--but it was mine, it was for him and it was,” Steve huffs, smiles a bitter little thing that Tony hates . “It felt like my body, for the first time since Rebirth.” 

“What happened?” he asks, a whisper almost lost in the kitchen clatter of the empty diner. 

“Serum happened,” Steve shrugged. “Body pushed it out. I kept redoing it--poor Jones got real tired of me showing up at his tent--but it never took. I had it, when I went into the ice.” 

Not when he came out. SHIELD would have recorded that. A question burns in his throat, but Steve--Steve’s pushing himself out of the booth, muttering about the bathroom, and Tony swallows the question with the last of his milkshake. 

He doesn’t need to ask, anyway. Why Steve didn’t try again doesn’t matter, not really. 

~*~ 

It’s been seven months, since Thanos, since using that fucking gauntlet that almost killed him, that took his arm and changed his world, and didn’t change a goddamn thing, either. 

Seven months, since he spent any time in his workshop. 

“Hey, Steve,” he says, and Steve looks at him over the top of his paper because he’s a fucking luddite and still reads a paper, just to fuck with Tony. 

His heart is pounding and he wants to wave it off, wants to hide from that expectant stare and the curve of his lips, and the burning itch in the back of his mind that he’s missed for seven goddamn months . 

“I’m gonna go down to the workshop after breakfast,” he says, and Steve smiles, slow and pleased and Tony--Tony grins back, helpless to do anything else. 

 ~*~

It’s Bucky, who starts it, so it makes sense, to drag him back into it. 

“Stevie says you’ve been down here for most of a week.” 

“Yeah,” he taps his fingers nervously, and then straightens up. “I was working on a late birthday present for Steve.” 

“Not sure I wanna know any more about what you’re cooking up if it’s from your shop.” Bucky drawls, and Tony flushes.  

“I’m not making sex toys,” he says, waspish and Bucky grins. 

“His loss,” he says. 

“Stop it. That’s--we’re not sleeping together.” 

Bucky huffs, his expression all irritated exasperation, but he lets it drop. 

They aren’t sleeping together. 

Tony knows there’s something between them, something building that’s been there for so long he can’t remember when it wasn’t. 

It’s different from that night on the farm. 

It’s different even from the months in the past, when they didn’t sleep together, but everything else was stripped away and they were forced together. 

It’s different because Steve stayed, when no one else did. When the world dragged Rhodey back into its damage control, when Pepper quietly voiced what he’d known was coming, when the nightmares and panic attacks and pain pushed Happy and the kid away--Steve stayed. 

And they came back--Rhodey and Peter, Happy and even Pepper, although that was still--difficult. 

But Steve stayed, the kind of stubborn irritating persistence that used to make Tony hate him. 

Except he didn’t. Not really. 

But Steve didn’t push. Not even on the nights when he slept in Tony’s bed, shivering in the clutches of his own nightmares. 

“We’ll get where we’re going,” he says, softly, and then reaches for the vial of inky dark liquid. “Did you know the serum won’t let a tattoo take?” 

Bucky arches an eyebrow, studying it and then flicking a look at Tony. 

“You fixed that, didn’t ya?” 

Tony grins, and shakes the bottle enticingly. “Wanna be my test subject?” 

~*~

He comes back, a week later, Sam in tow for another meeting about the Avengers, and Tony arches his eyebrows, all curious and hopeful and he nods. There’s something peaceful and very very tired about his gaze, that worries Tony, and Sam stays close to him, almost cuddling him at the damn table. “It works,” he says, shortly, and Tony almost asks, what he got. 

That wounded exhaustion and Sam’s warning look keeps his mouth shut for a moment, but then, “Are you ok?” 

Bucky laughs, and it’s wet and wounded and hurts. 

But it’s happy, too, a kind of bright purity that comes from the good clean pain of healing. Tony has spent months loathing and learning that pain. 

“I’m ok, Stark. I’m gonna be ok.” 

~*~

“Would you get one, again? If you could make it stick, this time. Would you get another tattoo?” 

Steve looks at him. They’re in Tony’s bathroom, brushing their teeth. His hands smell of the scar cream he rubs into Tony’s shoulder and side, twice a day, and there’s a smear of it on Tony’s cheek, near his hair, and Steve reaches out, thumbs it aside and smears the excess onto his faded pants. 

Tony makes a face. 

Steve spits into the sink, rinses and straightens and Tony is still staring at him, eyes hopeful and impatient, familiar in a face that is still sometimes unfamiliar, and he nods. “The tattoo--it helped me feel like this was actually my body, not something I was shoved into, that was eating up Steve Rogers. It was Steve Rogers. It was a choice I made.” 

Tony nods, and something clears in his eyes. He hipchecks Steve lightly aside, spits and rinses, before he straightens and says. “I have something for you.” 

~*~ 

The vial of ink sits in his palm, a tiny liquid promise, and Tony watches him, with big dark eyes, small against the sea of pillows and broad bed, and Steve loves him. 

Loves him so much it hurts, sometimes. 

Loving Tony has been the best, sweetest pain he’s ever known. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes. 

“We’re still working on it. On color. But. It’s--I want you to have this. You deserve to have this. Bucky tested it, and his body hasn’t rejected it, so--” Tony takes a breath. Smiles, small and brittle and Steve remembers him, before, larger than life with his grand gesture presents, with tech and suits and weapons and homes. 

This--a tiny vial of ink. 

It’s the sweetest thing Tony’s ever done for him, in a decade of gifts and sacrifice. 

He leans over, brushes his lips against his cheek, the scars unfamiliar and somehow soft under his lips, and breathes, “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

#arei writes fic #stevetony fic #tattoo au #inspired by art #the price of our peace #steve rogers #tony stark

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 1

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12

A/N: Welcome to my latest fic! I’m projecting about 10 chapters for this. If you’d like to be tagged, just leave a comment or shoot me an ask or send a request by falcon or w/e, I’m not picky!

Just to preface, I'd like to warn that there will be cult content in this work. I am in no way endorsing cults, nor am I criticizing anyone's religion. The intent of this work is to entertain, so please enjoy!

CW: Food, inflicted blindness, imprisonment

~

Virgil wasn’t expecting a roommate.

He’d only been here for a month or so, but he’d been alone for a while. He’d been quarantined for the past twenty days, and experimented on before that—Virgil didn’t want to think about that.

He hadn't known he had a roommate until someone brushed up against him as he curled up on the cold floor. He couldn't find the bed, otherwise that was where he'd lie. But something touched him and he reared back, ready to attack.

Whatever it was didn't touch him again, and Virgil slowly let himself relax. The sudden movement had sent a migraine to pound at the walls of his head. He groaned and let his head rest on the cold floor beneath him, before hearing some rustling. He jerked right back up, flinching again when something heavy fell on him. A blanket.

“Hello?” he ventured. No answer. For a moment, Virgil was certain he was making it all up, that he had gotten the blanket himself but had forgotten. Then another noise—a scuffle, the sound of someone sitting nearby. A hand touched his shoulder, and Virgil did everything in his power to not draw back.

“Who's there?” he asked, his voice quivering. “I can't—I can't see. I can't see you.”

Even after they'd taken the bandages off his eyes, Virgil had been unable to see anything. The first week, his eyes had burned and itched. He'd restrained himself from scratching, but now he wasn't sure if it would have made a difference. He had lost his sight, and with it his whole world.

The hand didn't leave his shoulder, and Virgil reached out cautiously. His hands met something solid—a person? Yes, a person, and Virgil's hands clutched desperately at their shirt. He hadn't had safe human contact in so long. . . . The person seemed to understand that, and gently placed his arms around Virgil. Virgil let himself be wrapped in the hug, arms awkwardly against his chest. The person smelled like soap and dust and immediately warmed him. Virgil relished the fiery contact, pushing his head up into the person's shoulder and sighing. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe.

The person pulled back and Virgil floundered, reaching again into the empty air. A hand caught his and held it still. Virgil frowned, confused. What was happening? Were they not supposed to know about each other? Was the person about to lead him back into that room, the bright one where they leaned over him and—

Virgil wrenched his brain away from that train of thought. He needed to focus on the here and now, not the terrifying past. Starting with who the other person in the room was. Said other person suddenly let go off his hand and pulled him close again. Virgil decided to not worry about who they were or why they were both here, and melted into the person's chest.

-

When Virgil woke up, he blinked blearily before remembering that he couldn't see. Someone—the person from the previous day—was still holding him, but his slow breathing indicated that he was asleep. At some point, they'd moved to a bed. It was nice, all things considered. He wasn't alone, he was in a soft bed with a soft person, and he had no need to go anywhere anytime soon.

A loud clang! interrupted his drowsy thoughts and he jerked up, feeling the person beside him stir in their sleep.

“Hello?” Virgil said, his voice shaking. No answer. His roommate sat up beside him and placed a gentle hand on his back, calm and reassuring. Then the person slid out of bed and seemingly vanished—Virgil could no longer reach them, no matter how far he stretched out his arms. He whimpered unwillingly, then covered his mouth. No use seeming weak. A little voice in his head reminded him that he'd certainly done worse than whimper when they'd taken his sight.

A terrifying moment later, a hand was on his arm and guiding him into a standing position. Virgil stumbled a bit, but allowed himself to be led across the room until the person eased him to the ground.

As it turned out, there was food there, laid out on a tray. Virgil felt his way around the tray before lifting what he was certain was a spoon, letting the other person place a bowl on his lap. It was full of instant mashed potatoes, Virgil soon discovered. He hadn't really been focusing on his stomach, but he realized some sustenance would be nice. While he ate, the other person traced seemingly random patterns on his wrist.

The bowl with mashed potatoes was pulled away from him, then returned but filled with canned beans. Virgil grimaced: he'd never been one for beans, but at least they were warm. It struck him as he ate that he had no idea what time it was. Was this an odd breakfast, or a poor dinner? It reminded him of something his dorm mate might have made—and just like that, tears were forming and his nose was burning.

Why did they take him? Out of every twenty-something person they could've kidnapped to fulfill their sick desires of blinding someone, why him? Virgil missed home, he missed school, he missed his obnoxious dorm mate, he missed his terrible paying job making terrible pizzas—

The bowl was gently pulled from him and Virgil willingly fell into the person's arms. He sobbed into their shoulder, lost and sad and homesick. How many times had he cried alone in the past month? How many times had he longed for human contact only to wrap his arms around himself? Now he cuddled closer into the warm weight of another human being, gripping as tight as he could.

The other person lightly placed a kiss into Virgil's hair and Virgil felt safe, and warm, and still so so awful but also okay.

Virgil pulled back and fumbled around for the bowl again, still sniffling as he took another bite. The person continued to trace the patterns into his wrist, slow and soft. Over and over. Familiar, like they had no meaning yet every meaning simultaneously. Over and over and over. . . .

That was—repetition? Did the pattern start over? Virgil set down the bowl and placed his hand on the other person's, who immediately stilled.

“Come on, do it again,” Virgil croaked. He gestured at his wrist, trying to get his meaning across. “I wanna feel it.”

Slowly, the patterns started up again, and Virgil traced along with them.

a . . . b . . . c . . . d. . . .

The alphabet. The person hadn't spoken at all thus far, and Virgil felt unbelievably ecstatic about this form of communication. He pushed his hand into the other person's, food forgotten in the giddy anticipation of someone talking to him. Old Virgil would have scoffed, unimpressed at his thirst for human contact. Old Virgil wanted to be alone. Old Virgil hadn't spent weeks alone in darkness.

Virgil could pick out some of the letters the person traced, but the rest felt like random scribbling. He definitely felt an 'a', and an 'o', and then an 'n', but the rest was unclear. He shrugged, then put his hand over theirs again.

This time he could feel the letters more clearly, as the other person carefully guided his hand.

P-a-t-t-o-n.

-

V-i-r-g-i-l, Virgil spelled. V-i-r-g-i-l.

V . . . i . . . n . . . y . . . l . . . l.

“No, Virgil, not vinyl,” Virgil groaned. V-i-r-g-i-l.

V . . . i . . . r . . . g . . . i . . . l.

“Yes, yes yes!” Virgil impulsively hugged the man whose arm he'd been spelling on a second earlier. His name was Patton, and through much trial and error, Virgil had discovered that Patton was about his age and could see. Why he wasn't talking was a mystery that he hadn't decoded yet.

Virgil and Patton had been curled up on the bed for hours, tracing into each others' arms. It was mostly the alphabet, over and over again as they tried to instinctually recognize the letters. It was slow going, but Virgil felt they'd gotten far enough for his name—and they had. It exhausted both of them, he was sure, so he wasn't surprised when Patton fell asleep, him following shortly.

The past few days had been too short, it seemed, after the unbelievable length of the month he'd spent alone. Hours of tracing and sleeping and eating and just touching helped the days fly by. Every day Patton held Virgil steady as the walked the perimeter of the room, one hand on the smooth wall, the other clenched into Patton's shirt. He was slowly beginning to envision their cell in his mind's eye. He knew how many steps it was from the door to the beds—because there were two of them, apparently, though Virgil spent most of his time on the same bed as Patton. When it was night, he couldn't bear to let Patton go, afraid he'd wake up alone again, not able to find anyone. On nights when the fear was particularly bad, Patton held him to his chest and wiped the tears away.

They were almost constantly touching, in some way. When they were both mentally worn from the struggle of communicating, they often lay on the floor, hands entwined. In those moments, Virgil let his mind explore beyond the room, sometimes imagining himself to be a great wizard or adventurer. He went on grand quests to retrieve lost treasures, journeyed into caverns that dripped with shadows. Most of the time, though, he imagined he was going about his normal life. He pictured his dorm mate, the paths he'd take to school. He thought about the tree that grew outside his window, the aloe vera on his desk that was somehow managing to survive. Those bittersweet thoughts always led to a wave of homesickness, and Virgil would find himself curling into Patton's arms to cry.

Now, though, Virgil woke up slowly, automatically squeezing his grip to make sure he was still holding Patton's hand. The man squeezed back, then spelled something onto his arm.

V-i-r-g-i-l.

Virgil smiled sleepily and spelled back: P-a-t-t-o-n. Who was he to break morning routine?

F-o-o-d-s-h-e-r-e, Patton spelled out slowly, making a slicing motion on his arm to indicate a space between words. Virgil nodded, forestalling the man as he began to spell it again.

“I heard, I heard.”

Over breakfast, Patton continued the alphabet lightly. Virgil tried to keep his arm free, but he needed one hand to hold the bowl and the other to eat the oatmeal, so it wasn't going too well. Soon enough, the tray was taken from them (by the morning food-bringer, Virgil was beginning to be able to tell their footsteps apart) and Patton squeezed him in a brief hug before taking Virgil's hand and placing it over his own, tracing more letters onto Virgil's skin.

I-a-m-d-e-a-f.

That couldn't be right. Virgil wracked his brain, trying to think of which letter he misinterpreted. Before he could pick it out, though, Patton was tracing again.

I-a-m-d-e-a-f.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed!): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222

#slower than words #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts #ts sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #patton sanders #ts patton #so this is chapter one! #i'm working on chapter six rn #uploads will probably be on tuesdays #i have been working on this for far too long #angst #sanders sides angst #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #mas writes #i need to go through and tag all my fics with that #any i miss talking with y'all in the tags of my fics! #how are you awesome cowpokes? #feel free to let me know what y'all think of this! #i love seeing y'all's comments and reactions #my spellcheck is very much broken #so point out typos if you like #love you guys

[reachfolk]

1, 6, 13, and 16 for Alexi and Ursula and shoot anyone else you wanna answer for

💛 from @korvanjund

thank you sm for the ask darlin!! i decided to also include my little haglet ophelia since i've been adding more to her storyline today, and it's about time i start talking more about my other character lol.

who are they closest to? how did they meet and what do they like to do together?

i already answered this for alexi here!

ursula: she's obviously very close with her wife, bothela. like i said in her chara sheet, the two met when markarth was under reach control and they worked together as healers. they spend most of their day running the hag's cure together and training their apprentice. when they aren't doing that, they mostly focus on their own little projects and research; bothela seems to somehow never tire of alchemy even long after the shop closes, and ursula likes to tinker around with dwemer texts and tech to see what she can find out. then they get back together and discuss whatever interesting things they learned. she's also super close to her niece and nephew! isobel doesn't love having the kids spend time with her, but the few times they are together, they love hearing all her stories from when she was in the uprising and just stories of the reach in general.

ophelia: she'd literally lay down her life for every single person in her coven dklfjskdj, she's very dedicated to them!! but of course, she's closest to her mother, helle. helle was in the forsworn uprising, and she had ophelia not long after markarth was secured. after it all fell apart, she raised filly to continue fighting for the reach, but the rebellion was never the same after madanach was imprisoned. eventually, the two (along with some of ophelia's closest friends from the forsworn) disbanded and formed an independent coven. ophelia supported her mother through the ritual to become a hagraven matriarch, and she's gladly willing to take on the same burden should anything happen to helle. helle taught ophelia a LOT about everything she knows about magic, and she's working on honing her skills as a seer to better guide the coven. although helle is the matriarch, her daughter is her right hand man of sorts and is just as responsible for everything they do. she runs around the coven doing just about anything that needs doing to help the members, whether it's hunting with hypatia, babysitting honey while beatrice is busy, or assisting esmeralda in her expeditions to old ruins.

on an average day, what can they be found doing after dinner?

alexandria: the short answer is: way too much !! the long answer: girlie has the worst case of insomnia ever and she compensates for that by using Way Too Many stamina potions, so it's usually her companions that even have to remind her to stop for dinner at all. even after dinner, she knows she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she majorly tires herself out, so she likes to run around doing more and more stuff. if her companions are too worn out from the day to do that, she likes to restock their potion supply or practice her spells. if after that she still can't quite fall asleep, she'll usually go on a late night hunting trip. there have been a few times when the local blacksmith tries to open shop and just finds her tanning leather at their station lol

ursula: she's quite the scholar, especially when it comes to the history of the reach! this goes beyond just the reachfolk; she also studies the history of the dwarves in the reach, the dragon cult, etc. she's published a few books covering the subjects, and is considered a leading expert on the matter. if she's not having a chill evening with her wife, she likes to continue working on those books, whether she's writing for them or just doing some research. she makes occasional visits to isobel's family, as the kids absolutely adore her, but those are few and far between.

ophelia: she's a little like alexi in that she does way more than anyone has any business doing kdsjfhd. she doesn't have the same ailment of course, but she wants to take off the pressures of managing the coven from her mother's shoulds, at least as best as she can. by the time they finish dinner, she's already thinking about where to go hunting for the next day's meal. she prays at the shrines to the old gods, who often send her visions to guide her. she checks in on each of the members and their individual duties and their work. she'll sometimes read honey a story before bed or sing her to sleep when her mother is away. she takes care of helle when she's in pain (i hc that the hagraven transformation can be pretty painful and draining, not unlike the briarheart transformation). when she does have a moment to relax, she likes to spend it by the river, soaking her feet and watching the stars.

what special abilities or talents do they possess? did they develop through training or were they born with them?

alexandria: she's always had a knack for alchemy, like i said in the other post! it was why her tutor encouraged her to apprentice at the hag's cure, where she built on that natural talent with a lot of hard work. despite her young age (around 22-27 depending on her point in the story), she's practically a master alchemist already. she'll insist she's not a master—"well i don't think anyone could ever know everything there is to know about alchemy. it's an evolving discipline and—" she's the worst lol. but the point is, she's one of the best ones you'll find around!! she's not an expert in things like sword fighting or marksmanship, but she makes up for it with her potions and poisons, making her a formidable foe.

ursula: she's pretty well rounded i think, having been a fighter and a healer for much of her life. she's also fairly good at alchemy herself. a lot of those things weren't really inborn, but she had a lot of great guidance from the other people that were part of the uprising. since it was in the works for many years, and ursula joined in during the early stages of its planning, she had a lot of time to hone her skills. by the time of the main story with lex, she's pretty much a master at restoration magic in particular, as that's the one she's used most in the 30 years since the city was reconquered by the nords. when the temple of dibella is closed, she's looked to as the town's primary healer.

ophelia: like i said before, she's a seer. it was always an inborn gift she's had, but her training with her mother as well as her devout worship of the old gods give her visions a significant boost. she's most devout to vaermina, who shows her visions of omens and looming threats to both her and her people in her dreams. she's actually the one that told alexandria to go to helgen, because she got a vision of what was going to happen and knew alexi was central to it. her visions can sometimes come in the form of metaphors rather than exact tellings of what'll happen, so she thought that alexi being personified as a dragon in these visions was some odd metaphor, as was helgen being burnt to the ground. needless to say, she later realized those visions were more literal than initially thought lol

how do they like their baths/showers? hot/cold, long/short?

alexandria: like absolutely scorching lol. when she bathes, she often uses a flames spell to get the water damn near boiling before she hops in. when it's revealed that she's the dragonborn, she makes a lot of jokes that it's because of her dragon blood, but tbh she's just Like That.

ursula: warm, but not as much as lex. she's still spry and healthy, but she is Old (tm), so she finds a warm bath nice and soothing, yk? especially since most of her work is on her feet.

ophelia: cold or lukewarm at best. she loves bathing in the karth river, and she appreciates it regardless of the weather. the karth is practically sacred to the reachfolk, and she finds the embrace of the cold water bracing and energizing! lord knows she needs that considering how much is on her plate.

#tes #tesblr #skyrim oc #oc: alexandria silver blood #oc: ursula dain #oc: ophelia #cozy answers

[imagining-supernatural]

What Happens in Vegas...

Part 1 of Seventy Percent 

Series Summary:  When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You wake up in Vegas with a brand new wedding ring on your finger next to Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 1641

A/N: I am super excited about this series! And it’s completely written (except maybe an epilogue), so I won’t leave you hanging when writer’s block hits. 

What was a Vegas weekend without waking with a major hangover and a random naked guy next to you?

Ideal. That’s what that would be.

Yet, here you were. Hungover as hell. With a naked guy next to you. In your hotel room. So you couldn’t even sneak out.

Not Ideal.

Aw well. This was your last Vegas weekend ever, so you might as well go out with a bang.

The form beside you groaned and shifted until you could see his face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, prompting him to squint at you, slowly waking up. It didn’t take long for his blue eyes to open. Eyes you’d only seen on the big screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Who are you?” He shot back, voice still scratchy with slumber.

“This is my hotel room so I think my question should get answered first.” Sitting up, you pulled the sheet up to your chin. It was pretty obvious what had happened last night, but if he was even half as drunk as you had been, he wouldn’t remember. So… there was no need to flash your assets.

Sebastian Stan – yes, the Sebastian Stan – looked around for a moment before his thoughts were gathered enough. “I… don’t remember. I mean, I think I remember you from a club? But the rest of the night is blurry.”

“Yeah. I’m dealing with a lot of different kinds of headaches right now.” As soon as he left, you were going to dig out your medication and down a pill or two. You must have forgotten to take your pills last night.

His eyes widened when he looked at your hands holding the sheet up to cover your body. “You’re married? Fuck, how did I not notice that last night. I—shit.”

“Married? I’m sure as shit not—” Now it was your turn to ogle the giant ring on your left hand. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

The look of disbelief he was giving you sent your mind into hyper drive. “You’re saying that we…”

“Not necessarily. I mean, maybe it’s just a ring, you know? Maybe, shit I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake and we won it from one of those machines where you put a quarter in and twist the knob and you get a toy, you know?” By this point, you weren’t talking to Sebastian anymore. You were muttering to yourself, trying to calm the fuck down. And, for the record, when you tapped the diamond you knew it definitely wasn’t plastic. There was still the hope it was fake. Glass or something…

“And even if we did have a ceremony, that doesn’t mean it’s legal, right? Like, there have to be documents filed with the state and shit. I feel like I would have remembered that. But if we did file those, we’re in Vegas! The town that probably processes more annulments than any other city. It can’t be that hard. We’ll sign some papers at the courthouse and bam! No more marriage, no legal financial obligations when I die. I mean, this isn’t how I expected to end my weekend, but whatever, it’s an adventure. Something to tell my fri—”

“What do you mean, when you die?” he interrupted, latching onto the one part of your blabbing that you definitely hadn’t meant to say aloud. “You got plans to get in an accident or something?”

You could see the worry in his eyes and it took you a second to process what was beneath his question. “Oh, no. No, I’m not gonna kill myself. Don’t worry about that.”

“So what did you mean?”

How much to tell him? As a stranger, you didn’t owe him anything. But he was your husband, maybe. At the very least, you were both naked in the same bed. And anyway, what could it hurt? Telling him the truth wouldn’t change your prognosis and it might light a fire under his ass to figure out how to cut all ties with you.

“I’m not planning on killing myself, or anything. But my body seems to be doing a great job on its own. I have cancer, can’t afford treatment, and this weekend was my last weekend to cut loose before getting my affairs in order, you know?” Hopefully he would let that all slide. Not question further. “But that’s not your problem. We need to focus on figuring out if we really did get married, and if so how to—”

“Won’t your health insurance cover treatment?”

His well-intentioned question startled a bitter laugh from you. You relaxed back into the pillows, starting to say more than you needed to. “Yeah, sure. It already covered the chemo and radiation I went through. Those didn’t help enough. And I can’t afford to cut my hours back again at work. If I do, corporate will shunt me down to part time and take away my benefits. Ain’t that the American Dream?”

Shaking your head, you determined that it was time to get away from your sob story.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I can, uh, get dressed and poke around a bit to figure out how to see if we really are married. It can’t be that hard. I mean, how many accidental, drunken, Vegas weddings do you think happen here? There’s probably a website somewhere called, like, help-i-woke-up-married-to-a-stranger.com or something.”

That stupid joke rewarded you with a half-smile on Sebastian’s face. “By the way, wife, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. And,” you shrugged, “I already know yours.”

“Yeah?”

“How could I not? You’re in the fucking Marvel Cult.”

“Cult?”

You grinned. “What else would you call it?”

After a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the headboard, sheets pooling around his waist and you tried extra hard to keep your eyes on his face. “Cult’s a good word actually. All the secrecy.”

“Y’all got so many devotees, man. Like, if all of you sent out a tweet that said something about taking over the world, it would be yours.”

“You one?” At your eyebrow raise, he clarified. “A devotee?”

“Ha, no. A fan, sure. I’m far too lazy to get in a cult. While y’all storm the capital, or something, I’d be at home watching YouTube videos of Kelly Clarkson singing while I’m eating chips and salsa.”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

At his question, you got defensive. “She’s a goddess.”

“Kelly Clarkson devotee?”

“I—” you stopped to consider that before tilting your head. “I suppose so. But only because she wouldn’t want to take over the world. She’d tweet something like Everyone come over to drink wine and chat and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

He grinned and you found yourself wishing this was real. That this really was the morning after your wedding to a handsome man.

But that wasn’t your life.

“Never thought I’d marry a Kelly Clarkson Devotee.”

“Not to, uh, cut this marriage short, but I have to be on a flight tomorrow morning. So we should probably get on with figuring shit out today. Get that annulment if we’re actually married.”

A playful frown toyed with his lips. “You’re divorcing me because I made fun of you for being in the Clarkson Cult?”

“Yes,” you played along. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I just can’t stay with someone who doesn’t share my absolute love and adoration of KC. If I’d have known this last night, I would have definitely left you at the altar.”

Briefly, you caught sight of a shy smile before he turned his head away. “So, uh, you mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all. I’ll start researching,” you motioned to your laptop that was laying over on the desk.

After he nodded, he started looking around the room. It took you a minute to remember that you were both naked. Though it shocked you that he would be as shy about his nudity as you were, you didn’t point it out. Instead, you pointed to your travel blanket that was draped over a chair within his reach. With a grateful nod, he grabbed it and secured it around his waist as he stood.

As he walked over to the bathroom, you found yourself staring at a wrinkle in the sheets, letting your brain start shutting down just enough to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You glanced up.

“I, uh, I just… Look. With my job I just wanted to ask that you not share anything on, you know... Twitter or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. No one would believe me even if I did.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t really know what it’s like to be in the public eye, not like you are, anyway, but I’m sure it’s not all glitz and glam.”

With a nod of thanks, he disappeared into the bathroom.

That brought up a whole new side of worry. If you were married and did need to get the annulment, how would you keep it from getting out? You needed to make sure all of this stayed out of the press. You couldn’t let your reputation tarnish his. Not when you were going to die and leave him to deal with your bullshit.

As soon as the shower started, you darted across the room to quickly pull on some clothes. Once you were no longer naked, you dug out your medication and popped a pill, knowing you’d definitely need it to keep up your strength. Hopefully it would also work some sort of wonder on your hangover headache as well.

Once you swallowed your medicine, you grabbed your laptop, only to have a paper fall to the ground. You bent down to see what it was and stopped cold at the calligraphy written across the top:

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

PART 2: THE FIRST DATE

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

[consumedkings-archive]

3, 6, 9, 21, 39, D for Elliot!

kate i just want to start this by saying god bless you for sending in an ask for an ask list that was rb’d like months ago. you are the cutest and i love u and i will be more than happy to answer these <3

3. how do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

ell is a notoriously bad sleeper--in that, she finds it very difficult to get sleep, and doubly hard to get restful sleep. years of ptsd and anxiety make it very difficult for her to be comfortable sleeping anywhere but she does have like little rituals that she does, pre-ancient names, to try and ease some of that anxiety! checking all of her stuff is where it’s supposed to be is the biggest one. she tries the sleepytime teas and all that but none of them really work; for a little while, ell does use over the counter sleeping pills, but they make her feel like garbage so she kinda just........lays in bed in the dark and prays for the best lmao.

6.  do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

elliot is definitely the kind of person who thinks that the system is alright, but sometimes...could use a little overhaul. i think at the start of ancient names she’s pretty hard lawful good but quickly morphs into chaotic good throughout and i’m of the opinion she’s going to stay that way for a long, long time. i mean she absolutely upholds every single law when she’s issuing a ticket for john (fuck u) but she’s too emotionally invested in her things to really take the laws and systems at face value and not think that there’s a bigger gray area to work through than “right and good” vs “wrong and bad”.

9. do they swear? do they remember their first swear word?

lmao boy howdy DOES she! elliot firmly subscribes to the idea that swearing releases important dopamine when you’re angry or hurt and thus, helps the moving on and healing process much better. so she swears often, frequently, as much as she pleases--except around whitehorse, she tries to mind herself a little more. her first (REAL) swear word was probably dropping “fuck” in front of her mom at a fancy charity function, and of course scarlet was completely mortified.

21. why do they get up in the morning?

you know like that mythos that sharks will die if they stop moving? that’s like elliot. i’ve always thought that ell isn’t particularly afraid of death, but is afraid of the Stopping, of the Ceasing, and so she keeps herself busy. i think in this respect that’s the same reason she gets up in the morning; because if she doesn’t, and she just stops moving, and stops existing, that’s terrifying. can you imagine just folding up and disappearing?? insane.

also, of course, for boomer. those soft little eyes get her out of bed every time!!!

39. how easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

i think i’ve answered this one before, and if my answer is different i am SORRY but upon ruminating my answer is: it’s not easy, at all, for her to ignore flaws in other people. i do think that ell tends to self-destruct relationships, friendly or romantic or otherwise, and so the second someone shows a red flag of some kind she likes to just........stop the chance of them disappointing her immediately. which sucks!!! that’s why i think it takes her so long to come around on john and also why she continues to have conflicting emotions regardless of the fact that she knows her brain recognizes him as a safe space. 

i do think that there’s a little wiggle room, however. elliot is a fiercely loyal person, so once someone is accepted into the very small circle of her treasured people, i imagine she would defend them fiercely. it’s this same kind of almost blind loyalty that makes joseph sure that they could rope her in--cults love that shit.

d.  have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

yes!!! i had a very clear picture of how i wanted elliot to look and so she’s always looked this way. blonde hair, blue eyes, slightly pointed nose. wiry and short. (uncharismatic lol). in WH she does go a little wild paranoid about the govt being onto her and dyes her hair red lmao BUT that!!! YOU KNOW THE BREAK UP HAIR DYEING THING.

#ch: elliot honeysett #ask games #risenlucifer #i still think this is so cute that you found it lol #ash.txt

[midnight-hotel]

Into The Unknown - (Charlie x Male Human! Reader)

Warnings: Mature language, very mild mentions of blood, mentions of cult activity

Pairing: Charlie x Human! Male Reader Word Count: 3009 Current Chapter: Prologue Previous Chapter:

Author’s Note: Hi everyone, this is my very first Hazbin Hotel ‘x Reader’ Series. This is not a guaranteed series, I want to see how I go, possibly leave it as a side project. If it’s in high demand, there will most likely be more. This is based on a oneshot request I received upon opening this blog and decided to develop into something bigger. I hope you enjoy, and if you have any suggestions for the future of this story, please send them in. Enjoy!

Jolting as if trying to prevent yourself from falling, your dream world melted from around you, leaving you in your uncomfortably humid bedroom, engulfed in darkness. It took you a moment to sit up, wondering what had drawn you from your comfortable sleep, until you finally registered the familiar ringing of your phone, sitting on charge, on top of your tall boy. Still dazed from sleep, you started to sink back down under your covers, shutting your eyes for a second before sitting back up quickly. Who would be calling at this time of night? Not that you knew the time, but it was strange enough to consider that perhaps something was wrong. Just the thought of someone calling you, in need of help, was enough to send you stumbling across your dark bedroom to reach the phone that stopped ringing the moment you slapped your hand on the screen, in a last second attempt of answering it. Left standing there, staring at the dimly lit screen, you let out a tired groan before picking the device up and unplugging it in order to see who had called you.

Lit dimly on your screen was: ‘1 Missed Call from: Matty’. Now glaring at the phone, you unlocked it, only to snap your eyelids shut as the screen suddenly lit right up, burning your unprepared eyes. “Fuck-shit,” you hissed, looking towards a dark corner of your room in hopes to easing the burning sensation before turning your gaze back to the screen, squinting in order to find the brightness controls. “Asshole better be dying,” you grumbled to yourself, slowly adjusting to the light of your phone and going to your missed calls to call ‘Matty’ back. The device rang twice before the call was connected but as you were about to ask him what the hell he wanted, he cut you off. “Dude, come outside. Now,” you were instructed out of the blue. Blinking, you let out a heavy sigh and flopped back onto your bed, scratching your bare chest.

“Matt… Do you have any idea what time it is?” You rose a brow as if you were asking him face to face. There was a brief pause, but you could hear some movement, coaxing you to not so gently place you hand against your face. He was actually checking the time. “Uhh, it’s like, 1:45. Now seriously, come outside,” Matt insisted only for you to shake your head before remembering he couldn’t see you. “No Matt. It’s too early in the morning. Why to you even- Wait, are you outside my fucking house?” You asked, getting back up and quickly approaching the window. You shoved the curtain and blinds out of the way, looking outside to see the silhouette of your childhood friend, holding a torch that was shining over your car.

“Yup, I’m outside. Now come on, I wanna hang out.” The cogs in your brain came to a halt as you stared at him in disbelief. No freakin’ way. He was actually outside. In the dark. Clearly prepared to remain in the dark considering the torch in his hands… And he was eyeing off your car as he usually did when he was around. “(Y/N)?” “You’re a fucking lunatic Matthew. Give me a moment, I’ll be down shortly. And stop staring at my car like you’re going to steal it,” you sighed, rubbing your temple as if to sooth a headache that hadn’t even arrived yet. With his only response being a shameless laugh and his torch being shone in your eyes when he realised you were at your window, you hung up and stepped backwards. “I can’t believe him. Why can’t he just act like a normal human being for once? Who the hell gets up at one in the bloody morning, to hang out with a friend who is trying to sleep?!” You ranted to yourself, pulling open a couple draws of your tall boy and pulling out a pair of pants and a shirt.

After getting dressed, putting on a pair of shoes and grabbing your jacket, phone and earphones- just in case- you headed out the door. You descended the stairs, running a hand through your bed hair and grumbling through a heavy yawn before reaching the front door and exiting the house, locking up behind you. “You know Matt, if I wanted to be woken up before the crack of dawn, I’d just move back in with my parents. At least they’d make breakfast for me,” you huffed, walking over to the tall man who could only laugh once again at your dismay. “Oh, come on, I ain’t that bad. I just wanted to spend time with ya. I couldn’t sleep y’know?” he chuckled, scratching at his dark stubble. “Tell you what, you get a girlfriend and I’ll lay off,” he joked with a grin, earning a scowl in return.

Matthew Moore was a large man, standing at 6’3 with a solid build to him. Not professional body builder built but he was in no way, simply fit. It would be pretty damn hard to win a fight against someone like him and many found him to be intimidating for this reason. He was a friendly enough guy, bit of a dark sense of humour and occasionally kicked you when you were down but having been friends since you were little, you couldn’t seem to part ways with him. However, right when you thought you had your head wrapped around that brain of his, he comes out with something new, completely throwing you off and leaving you to wonder about him all over again.

Then there was you. You were approximately 5’9-5’10, maybe nearing 5’11 if you were lucky. You weren’t a twig or anything of the sort, but you weren’t as fit as you’re friend. The best word to describe yourself would be… average. You were an average guy, maybe a little on the shorter side, but an average guy all the same.

“So, what did you want to do then?” you asked, letting out another yawn, hoping that he only wanted to go out for a couple drinks and then go back home or get the hint and let you go back inside so you could get your sleep. You really didn’t want to be out any longer than an hour or so, especially when you had work in the morning. Rent wasn’t going to pay itself now was it? “Oh, right, I wanted to go for a walk in the forest. I found this cool trail and figured it would be awesome to go down with ya. What do you say?” he suggested, giving you a big smile but you could only stare at him in disbelief. “Matt, what are you, a serial killer? Common sense says, ‘don’t wander around the forest in the middle of the night.’ Bad shit happens in places like that Matty. Let’s just go tomorrow afternoon. It’ll still be there for when we go,” you sighed out, turning around to head back inside. What a waste of time. You could be dreaming again by now if it wasn’t for this bullshit.

As you reached for the doorknob, you felt Matt place his large hand on your shoulder. “Come on (Y/N), don’t be a pussy. Just for an hour. I swear we’ll be back within the hour,” he promised you, giving you an almost desperate look. You stared back at him through the darkness, a moment of panic rushing straight to your heart and you considered shrugging him off and just heading inside with a ‘goodnight’. You should have told him to go home. You should have insisted that you have work later in the morning and needed to sleep now. You should have ignored the look on his face, walked inside, locked the door, and gone back to bed.

You don’t know what possessed you to agree. To be fair, you don’t even remember what you said that could even imply that you were willing to follow your friend into the forest at two in the morning. You walked along, side by side with Matthew who was chatting away contently, having absolutely no concerns about what may be lurking in the darkness. You on the other hand, had your hands shoved into the pockets of your sweatpants, paranoid that something was going to grab them as you walked, and couldn’t help but look behind yourself every now and then. You could have sworn you saw something at some stage but after staring for a moment, nothing seemed to be there.

“Yo, (Y/N), you don’t have to stand so close to me y’know. There is nothing out here, grow a pair would ya?” Matthew mocked, rolling his eyes. You hadn’t realised how close to him you had been standing but didn’t distance yourself anymore than about a couple centimetres away. “Shut up, I didn’t want to come out here in the first place,” you grumbled at him, pulling your hands out of your pockets and crossing your arms across your chest. You could have sworn you could feel eyes on you. It was probably only an animal watching you walk by, but it still made you incredibly uncomfortable.

“Can we head back now? I have work in a few hours.” You stopped in your tracks, refusing to go any further into the forest. It was as you fell behind him, that you saw the faint outline of something in his back pocket. Probably his phone. The larger man let out a heavy sigh and turned around, causing the light to shine in your eyes for a moment before it was pointed towards the ground, allowing you to see properly again. “You’re acting as if this is all new to you. We used to explore the forest all the time, why are you so stuck up these days?” he asked, sounding irritated by your constant request to go home. The real question had to be; ‘Why was he so bothered by it?’

Rubbing your face in frustration, you let out a sigh. “Matthew, I already told you. I have work later. I can’t run on a mere few hours of sleep. We can come back in the afternoon, when I don’t have to be up in like; three hours.” You watched the annoyance from his face melt away to soon be replaced by a small smile that parted to let out a small chuckle. “Okay, okay. You win. We’ll go now,” he caved, causing you to finally relax a little. Finally, he was listening. You stepped to the side, allowing him to walk around you to lead the way back home. As he passed you, he placed a hand on your shoulder and right when you thought you were in the clear, you stumbled back, him flashing you a grin as you regained your balance through taking a few steps backwards. “Asshole.” “Pussy.”

He gave you another small push, but this time, there was nowhere for you to step. Your foot was met with a sudden steep drop, causing you to fall back and roll down the hill. “(Y/N)!” he called after you, looking down towards where you had fallen. You tumbled down, rolling and sliding down as leaves and dirt went flying everywhere, ending up in your shirt, pants and shoes. Your phone even fell out of your pocket. Once you reached the bottom, which felt as if it had taken forever, you laid on your pack, groaning in pain. “Hey, you okay down there (Y/N)?” Matthew called, shining the torch on your now dirty form. You shielded your eyes and pushed yourself up onto your feet, dusting yourself off the best you could. Your whole body ached and even burned in some places and the smell of iron wasn’t too far away. “Yeah, I’m good. I think I’m bleeding though,” you sighed out, loud enough for him to hear you. “Where is my phone?” You asked, patting your pockets. The light of the torch left your form and scanned the area before stopping on the small device you were looking for. Picking it up, you dusted it off and made sure it was okay.

“Alright, stay there, I’ll be up in a-,” you cut yourself off when you saw the large man beginning to slide down on his feet, stumbling occasionally to get down to you. “Second…” He grinned at you when he got down and you couldn’t help but become angry. “You stupid fucker! You did that on purpose! I just want to fucking go home, is that too much to ask for?!” You yelled at him, clenching your dirty fists. Matthew was hardly fazed however, instead, holding his finger to his lips to signal you to be quiet. “Don’t you shush me! I’m so fucking sick of your shit,” you hissed at him before your mouth was covered by his large hand. “Shut up and look behind you,” he hissed, turning the torch off. Suddenly becoming nervous, you turned your head to look over your shoulder.

“Is that… fire?” You murmured, pulling his hand away from your face as you stared off into the distance. There was a flickering orange light, not too far from where you were standing. “Let’s check it out,” Matthew whispered to you, beginning to start walking again, putting more distance between the two of you and your precious bed. Letting out a sigh, you shook your head but quickly followed after him, stumbling a little over the sticks and shrubs. “Fuck me sideways- Matt. You don’t know who’s out there. What if they’re serial killers?” you hissed at him, not wanting to go any further with him, but he had the only torch and had a better sense of direction you did.

“We’ll be fine. I just wanna take a look,” Matt dismissed you with a wave of the hand, leaving you with no choice but to follow him. The closer you got to the light, the brighter it became until you had reached another ledge, this one, you were intent on not falling down. You even made a point of not standing right next to Matt as you looked down at what was going on. Seeing people, you crouched down quietly, hoping the crunching of the leaves and twigs wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your ears.

Down below, hooded people stood in a circle, around a star that had been painted on the ground. Glancing to the side, you saw a bucket of red paint that had to have been used. The light, however, wasn’t coming from a fire. Not a single one at least. There were candles everywhere, lighting the place up as if they were a campfire. One of the people held a large book in their hands, clearly looking down into it and making the occasional hand motion as they spoke. You couldn’t make out what they were saying though. Hopefully this meant you were at a safe enough distance to not be heard either.

“Holy crap, we’ve run into a cult…” Matthew whispered in astonishment, more amazed than frightened over the sight. You looked at him, brows knitted together in distaste. “No, we haven’t yet, and I don’t intend to. I’m leaving. Now,” you hissed at him, shifting your attention back to the cultists that were a mere few metres away from you if you didn’t count the height difference. You could hear Matthew moving, clearly getting up so the two of you could leave. With that subtle confirmation that you were both going to leave, you backed up a little and stood, only for your back to come into contact with something. You felt something hit your ankle, taking you off balance and as you reached out for, what you could only assume was a tree you bumped into, it was no longer there.

Back to falling, you let out a cry for help, watching as your friend reached out for your hand, only to miss completely. You rolled and tumbled, surprising the cultists who stumbled away from your approaching form. With everything moving too quickly for you to see, you didn’t see the pentagram on the ground, opening up into a black and crimson, swirling vortex. “NO!” A masculine voice cried out, but it was too late. The vortex swallowed your form, closing almost immediately after.

You felt sick. Your body hurt and you felt incredibly nauseous. You couldn’t see a thing, but it felt as if you were on a rollercoaster and a spinning ride at the same time. As your head started to throb with pain, you finally blacked out.

—

 “All I’m saying Charlie, is that we need to figure out a new way of bringing demons into the hotel,” a woman informed her best friend and Princess of Hell. “The singing isn’t working, like I said it wouldn’t and while we do have patrons, it’ll be impossible for us to remain afloat!” Charlie sighed softly and looked to her friend with a small smile. 

“Oh, come on Vaggie, it’s not that bad. We just need to stay optimistic is all! I’m sure, once we show signs of progress, which we are already, demons will start lining up from all corners of the pentagram! Trust me!” She claimed cheerily, walking backwards to look at her friend and give her a reassuring smile.

Vaggie shook her head with another sigh. “Customers don’t just fall from the sky Charlie! I’m serious. This is serious!” She cried, stopping in her tracks, wanting her friend to realise how much trouble they could be in if this idea didn’t work. Charlie sighed and rubbed her arm. “I know this is serious. I just… need some time to think. As you said, customers don’t just-.” The demon was suddenly brought to the ground by a hard force. Vaggie’s eyes widened when she saw the oncoming attack but was too late to warn Charlie as she was taken down to the ground.

“Charlie!”

#hazbin hotel #Charlie magne #Charlie x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #male reader #Charlie x male reader #into the unknown #series #prologue #demons