#american horror story imagines

[darling-i-read-it]

Babysitter

Dandy Mott x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: dandy being dandy, straight up murder, descriptions of a womans dead body, gloria is trying to like sell dandy to women

Author’s Note: i do not know how to feel about this but dandy is still crazy adn sometimes that calls for a weirdly sectioned fic  

Requested: by anon, Hey! Your Dandy Mott fics are absolutely scrumptious and I can’t think of anyone better to hand over this idea to. I was thinking Gloria hires Reader as a personal nurse/kinda nanny for Dandy to get him used to being close to ladies his own age but it totally backfires on her cause Dandy gets interested in Reader and throws huge tantrums when his mom tries to get him to pay attention to other (rich) women

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You really needed a job. The summer had started and now that you were out of school there was no excuse for you to be lingering around without a reasonable way to spend your time. You had scoured the town for help wanted signs, dropped off your resumes at every available desk and even visited the local circus to see if they needed someone to hand out tickets. 

Some places answered. 

None of the places were as interesting as Gloria Mott’s phone call. You hadn’t even been by her house, had no actual idea that she was attempting to hire. You had heard the horror stories of the Mott’s. Dandy had walked around town and caused ruckus but you had never actually met him. 

Gloria’s phone call was high pitched and concerned. 

“A babysitter? I’m sorry Miss. Mott, I was under the impression that Dandy was around my age.” 

“Oh yes, he is! He’s just…a little stunted. In the most affectionate way possible! I would like someone his age to get to know him, get used to the idea of regular people.” 

She said regular people like it was a slur. You had no idea what kind of abnormal people she was speaking about or if she was directly talking about Dandy. Regardless, she was willing to pay far too much money for you to just hang out with Dandy. You had babysat before, granted, no one close to your age. 

It was between that or stocking shelves at the general store for below minimum wage. 

That was how you arrived at the doorstep of a large house. You knocked on the door nervously, unsure what to expect. You teetered back and forth on your feet, peeking through the side window that had the curtains drawn. You jumped when the front door opened. 

A woman answered the door wearing an apron. She had a disgusted look on her twisted face. 

“You’re the new help?” she questioned. 

“I…I guess so.” She didn’t move aside. 

“I’m Dora Brown. Welcome to the freak show.” She finally backed up. “I’m the maid here. Gloria said you were here to babysit Dandy?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Though isn’t Dandy my age? Gloria didn’t really specify what my duties here would be.” 

“Dandy’s behavior is obnoxious and unreasonable. He’s a spoiled brat who doesn’t know manners,” she seethed. You followed her through the house, trying not to be too amazed at the decor. You hadn’t realized how rich the Mott’s really were. You couldn’t imagine having this much money, enough to decorate the walls with unnecessary pastels. 

“So I’m here to make sure he doesn’t act out?”

“I think you’re here to get him used to other people.” She stopped in front of a door. “Good luck with that.” Her tone of voice was not reassuring. She left you there, walking back down the long hallway with no instructions. You looked at the door, unsure what you were going to find behind it. You wondered if this was worth the money. Dora didn’t seem exactly happy. But who was happy at work? 

You knocked on the door. 

It swang open without much of a delay. Behind it was Gloria, her face pinched into a forced content look. 

“Oh good! You’re here.” She moved aside and took your bag from you. “Dandy’s just in his room. If you could just make friends with him.” Her instructions remained vague and you didn’t think you were going to get anything else from her even if you pried. You cleared your throat. 

“Why can’t Dandy make friends-”

“You’ll see dear, you’ll see.” She was ushering you towards the door at the end of the room. You suddenly felt unsafe; like she was leading you to slaughter. You had no room to protest because suddenly the door was open and you were being shoved inside. 

The door shut harshly behind you. 

It was like a children’s play room but enlarged. Toy horses the size of real ones were at the corners of the room. There was a bike and a chandelier. You looked around, absorbing everything rather slow, when your eyes finally landed on Dandy. He was sitting at the front of the room, in front of what looked like a puppet show stage. He stood up when the door shut behind you. 

“You’re the girl my mother is paying to watch me?” he questioned. His tone was closer to singing than speaking. You cleared your throat and nodded. You had never seen Dandy in person, only heard the rumors. He was your age. Handsome, if it weren’t for the childish scowl on his face. 

“Hi Dandy,” you breathed. “I’m Y/N.” You straightened your back. You had to do what you were paid here to do. 

“Y/N.” He played your name on his tongue. He said it again, whispering it and then saying it loudly. “Like a toy.” 

“Sure. Like a toy.” You approached him, still looking around the room. “How are you today?” 

“Fine. You shouldn’t have to be here. My mother thinks I’m still a child.” He sauntered over to you, landing just in front of you. He observed it curiously, like you were nothing but an object. He put his hand on your arm, brushing down it, like you were made of practice. 

“You’re not a child,” you told him. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“Right?” 

You nodded once. 

“What do you like to do, Dandy? This room is pretty magnificent. I can’t imagine you getting bored.” 

“I’m so bored,” he promised you. “All the time.” He gestured to everything. “My mother doesn’t like it when I speak about the circus or the clowns. I want to go to the circus Y/N.” You furrowed your brows. 

“I haven’t heard much about the circus. What goes on there that’s so exciting?” You sat down on the round green couch in the center of the room. He turned to look at you, eyes wide. 

“You haven’t heard?” You shook your head, a small smile on your face. 

“No I haven’t.” He sat down beside you, words starting to tumble out of his mouth. He liked to hear himself talk and it was easy to get him going. 

-

You weren’t quite sure what Gloria and Dora were going on about. Sure, Dandy was high maintenance. But he loved hanging out with you. He was a clingy mess, the second you allowed him to speak to you he never wanted you to leave. Multiple nights he insisted on you spending the night. You got used to him fairly quickly and had no issues getting paid to spend time with him. 

Frankly, after a while, you grew to enjoy your time with Dandy. Having someone fawn over you endlessly and obsess over your every move was more enjoyable than anyone else gave him credit for. He had no interest in the circus after a while. Why would he, when he had you?

You got him fun trinkets from there when you passed by, pictures of the abnormalities he would go on and on about. He kept them on the wall and in the corner, a shrine to your presents. 

Dandy was napping. He had to nap once a day, like a child, otherwise he would get cranky. Typically you read in the same room as him so he wasn’t surprised when he woke up without you. Dora liked to call you ‘Dandy’s favorite teddy bear’. 

You had curled up beside him, holding the book open with two fingers. Gloria opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake him up. 

“Afternoon,” you whispered. Dandy grumbled at the noise but didn’t wake up. She gave you a curt, whimsical nod. 

“Tomorrow evening I’m having some ladies over. Your services won’t be needed.” You nodded once. 

“Are you sure? Are they friends of yours or-”

“Potential suitors for Dandy,” she explained. “It’s better if you’re not here to distract him. Though your services have been increasingly valuable,” she admitted. Her voice was wispy. You nodded slowly, glancing down at his sleeping figure. 

“No worries. Should I let him know?” She shook her head. 

“I’ll let him know,” she said. 

“Alright.” 

She stared at you for a moment, awkwardly, like she wanted to say something else but nothing else came out. You watched her, evenly, until she left the room. You weren't sure when you had started to hold the cards over Dandy but it felt like you had more sway than her. 

Dandy groaned. You brushed his hair out of his face and he nuzzled against your touch. 

He reached forward, grabbing at your leg. You hummed and he put his head in your lap. You hummed till he fell back asleep. 

-

It was odd not going to the Mott’s the next day. You wondered how Dandy was handling it. You spent the day pursuing the shops in town, finally having the money to spend. When you arrived back home your phone was ringing. You set down your bags and removed your sunglasses before picking it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh thank goodness.” You recognized Gloria’s phone voice. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour. Where on Earth were you?”

“I was out, I thought I had this afternoon off,” you said. “Is everything alright?” You asked the question, despite being able to hear the ruckus in the background. There was a crash and a yelp from Gloria. You heard some muffled calling from Dora. Then an exasperated groan from Dandy. 

“No! No, everything is not alright! Please come over!” It briefly occurred to you to ask for more money. Clearly your services were needed and Gloria’s pockets weren't exactly hurting. Instead you heard another annoyed groan from Dandy and nodded. 

“I’m leaving right now.” 

-

When you arrived you could hear the chaos from outside. Glasses shattering, plates breaking, screaming from an annoyed mother. You didn’t bother knocking, instead you just used your key and let yourself inside. 

You followed the noises to the dining room. 

“I don’t like those ladies' mothers! I don’t want those women, those foul overpriced women!” Dandy explained loudly. “I want Y/N!” 

“Y/N is not a- stop throwing things!” Gloria’s strained voice exclaimed. You pushed open the door. There was glass shattered on the ground and beside it, a dead woman. She had a singular gunshot wound in her forehead. Her lips were still open, drool escaping her lifeless mouth. Your eyes floated around. 

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Gloria exclaimed. “Dora will come clean this up. Please, please, just deal with him-” 

Dandy ran over to you, throwing his arms around you. Your receptive actions were halted for a moment, as you took in the events in front of you. 

“What happened?” you asked him as he held him against you. 

“My mother tried to have me marry a different woman,” he seethed. “Doesn’t she know we’re supposed to be married?” Your eyes opened wide. You couldn’t exactly deny your connection to Dandy but neither of you had talked about anything exactly romantic. 

“Oh Dandy,” you whispered. You brushed his hair out of his face. “Did you do this?”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone,” he explained, looking at the dead woman. She was older than him. Much older. Closer to Gloria’s age and status. You narrowed your gaze at her. Dandy was easy to annoy but he was worse when he was uncomfortable. 

“I assure you, she was just being friendly,” Gloria said absentmindedly. You watched as she left the room to find Dora. You wondered if this unnamed woman’s death would be talked about at all, or if they would sweep it under the rug like everything else Dandy does. 

“I didn’t like her,” Dandy whined. You nodded. He was still holding onto your arms, his grip tightening. You nodded once. 

“That’s alright,” you whispered. “Let’s go get some air.” You dragged one of your hands down to his hand. You gripped it, lightly dragging him out of the room. He watched the unmoving woman as he walked. You led him through the front door and to the courtyard. It was empty of any other staff. You were grateful to be alone. 

“I want to go out,” he muttered. “I don’t want to be here.” 

“We can go somewhere else. Where would you like to go?” 

“I don’t care,” he admitted. His hand remained in yours. He looked down at it, observing the intertwined fingers. He hummed, flexing his fingers in and out. “This is nice.” 

“I’m sorry your mother tried to set you up with that other lady,” you whispered. He shook his head. Just the reminder of her made him upset. He had disposed of her and now would need no other reason to think of her. 

“She’s gone now,” he told you. He said it like it was a promise, as though he had done it to protect you. “Where were you?” 

“Your mother said you were having friends over. She said I didn’t need to come by.” 

“You always need to come by,” he insisted. He raised his head and let go of your hand. “You’re not like mother or Dora. You listen when I speak,” he said, head straight. You gave him a gentle smile and he gave you one back. 

You gestured down the courtyard. 

“Should we take a walk?” He thought about it for a moment and then offered his arm. You wrapped your arm through his. He leaned against you and used you as a crutch. You wondered if you were going to get a phone call from Gloria, complaining about where Dandy was. She might even try to fire you, hire a new ‘nanny’ for Dandy, and try and set him right again. 

“Do you think we could stop at the circus?” he questioned, voice suggestive. You both knew you weren’t supposed to go there. 

“That’s a long walk.”

“We can take one of my cars.” He paused. “I have many.” You nodded slowly. 

“Do you have the keys?” His lips turned up into a mischievous smile. 

“I may.”

[lcthebtswriter]

fireside

pairing: tate langdon x female reader

summary: drawing tate comes with more pros than cons

tags: @korvenx, @sarahpaulsonldn-blog (I think this is @sarapaulsonlov3r lmk), @yeahokcas

warning: underage drinking

a/n: if you want to be added to a tag list, just send me your username and check the fandoms I write for to be tagged whenever I write for them

The backyard of your house is bigger than Tate's, and he enjoys throwing class notes into the bon fire you've made.

Ashes twirl up into the air, burning orange and flickering out the higher they get. It's the weekend, so neither of you have a care in the world. You've swiped vodka from your mother's alcohol cabinet with the intention of filling the remains with water. Tate has consumed most of its contents, which is fine because he's a better model when he's drunk. Although it's something you don't like admitting, Tate is better when he's intoxicated. His racing thoughts slow like molasses and it allows you to capture him in the way you've always imagined.

He stares into the fire, skin glowing orange from the flames as your pencil races across the paper. You know you don't have time to capture some of his features since he fidgets so much. Tate is aware of your pencil and sketch pad; it's become a common accessory in your company. He's grown accustomed to the sound of lead scratching on paper. He's also grown used to having to sit still. If it weren't for you, the habit would have fled him a long time ago.

Tate does his best to keep his focus on the fire before him. Its embers burn hot against the stones of the fire pit it's encapsulated in. He tries to keep his head still so it's easier for you to draw. Tate doesn't know how far along you've gotten in your sketch, but you've pulled out the water colors from your shoulder bag and used a water bottle to fill its multitude of colors. The scratching of paint brushes can be heard over the popping flames, and Tate can get an idea of how far along you've gotten.

"You almost done?" He asks, not intending to sound so short.

Your mindless watercoloring ceases.

"No, but I can stop if it's bothering you, baby," you say.

Unbeknownst to you, Tate likes being the center of attention. He eagerly awaits the opportunity to be your model, your muse. If there's anyone he'd let stare at him for a set amount of time, it's you. Out of all the people in the world, he feels like you see him in a more honest way than anyone he knows. Those on the outside have convinced themselves of one thing, while you view Tate as the most honest version of himself. He loves that about you. Not only do you take things at face value, but the more you study the more you learn and accept.

"You're not bothering me," Tate argues. He turns his gaze from the crackling flames, vodka bottle between his legs and the chilled glass bringing him back to reality.

You offer a smile, hovering your paint brush over the sketch pad in your lap. It isn't easy capturing his complexion in such poor lighting, but you've managed. He's practically glowing, and you don't want to mess up the opportunity that has presented itself. Watercolor is a bit out of your orbit, but it's not like you can bring all of your art supplies outside without waking your parents.

"Go on," Tate insists. He's smiling, bringing the bottle of alcohol to his lips as the fire roars on. Earlier, he had piled so many logs that you're sure the flames will persist throughout the night. You don't mind, though. You're just glad Tate is willing to leave his room, the drugs, and the racing thoughts in his head to entertain you for the night. Sometimes it's hard to get through to him, but you cherish the nights where he's willing to do what you want to.

So you carry on. The sketch doesn't last long. You can tell by the way Tate is bouncing his leg on the soggy grass that he doesn't intend to sit still much longer. You scramble to finish your painting, careful not to smudge whatever pencil lines you've made.

Your head is swimming from exhaustion and intoxication by the time you're finished. Tate has entertained himself by tossing leaves into the fire and watching them shrivel up into ash. You're please by the sketch you've made in such poor lighting. Finally, you're comfortable enough to turn the sketch to Tate for his approval.

Silently, Tate turns his eyes toward the paper. It's him - definitely. His jaw is more pronounced than he thinks it is. The oranges, yellows, and browns meld together to encapture his figure. Whatever darkness surrounds his painting is relatable to your vision of him. He's eager to share his approval, but he doesn't want to come off as too nice. Tate hates overly enthusiastic people, but he also wants to show his appreciation.

"You're so talented," he settles. "You really should go to college for this shit. You could be a comic book artist or something," Tate says. His smile is genuine, and it makes you blush as you turn the sketch back to yourself.

You shrug and say, "Maybe."

Tate leans toward you in his arm chair, bottle of vodka long past dilution as its remaining contents slosh about.

"I'm serious. I love watching you draw. You're really talented, honestly." Tate says as he puts his hand to his heart.

You can't help but kiss him, feeling the warmth of his lips and melting at the tingling sensation it springs forth. Tate pulls away after you, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clutches the bottle in his hands.

He's happy to admit that he's aware of the subject of most of your sketches. Ever since you started dating, Tate has known how much you draw him. He likes seeing himself in another person's eyes; a softer side of his being.

Sometimes he can't justify the space he takes up, but he finds comfort in knowing you see him for more than he is.

[multific]

His Follower

Kai Anderson x Reader

Warning: Kidnapping, torture, blood, cults 

Summary: Being one of his followers had its moments, especially when his rival thinks they can just kidnap you.

As they pulled the bag off of your head, you let out a groan.

"Well this is pleasant." you looked around the room, five men wearing ski masks stood in front of you as you were chained to a chair.

"You will answer our questions." one said in a distorted tone, he must be using some kind of device.

"Alright, the secret is a good shampoo and I do weekly conditioning masks on it." you said as everyone fell silent.

"What?" one of them finally spoke.

"My hair-care routine." this resulted in you getting a slap across your face.

"We know you are one of Anderson's followers, we want to know his plans." you looked at the mask of the man who just hit you.

"You won't be able to stop him, no one will because all of you are nothing but imitators. Powerless little insects." another slap.

"You whore, you will tell us everything or you will suffer."

"I do like it rough." you smirked.

You probably didn't like it this rough though. Also who could have thought they would stab you with a freaking screwdriver?!

You didn't even feel your thigh anymore as he pulled the damned thing out, you watched blood flow out of the wound.

You looked up at their leader.

"You will regret this."

"Why would I? You are just one of many, he doesn't care about you, Sweetheart. Or did you believe he did? I feel bad for you being so naive."

you started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I'm not his follower." even with the mask on you could see the confusion. "I'm his everything, his obsession, the reason he keeps on going. I'm his wife." and now you saw the panic.

These idiots really thought they would kidnap you, chain you to a chair, torture you and kill you without Kai even noticing.

"You picked the wrong one." you said just as the door burst open and people with clown masks filled the room.

Exhaustion suddenly took over as you no longer had to hold it. Then on top of it you were pretty sure you got shot, the pain in your shoulder was killing you.

You were in and out of consciousness. 

"Miss." you heard them say but you couldn't focus. You heard the chains being cut and you felt them move you.

Once you were in a car, you passed out.

---

You woke up in your own bed, feeling like shit, you heard the machine next to you beep to the beat of your heart.

You looked at the damn thing beeping away, the sound annoying you to no end.

You made a face before you felt your hand being touched, you turned and saw your husband smiling at you.

"Sweetheart." he said as you tried to sit up, your shoulder hurt like hell and so did your legs. "Don't move too much, you lost a lot of blood and you were shot in the shoulder."

"Wonderful..." you said as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"I dealt with them." you heard him say as you only let out a sound to acknowledge his statement.

"My shoulder feels like shit."

"You were shot, Darling, it is normal. I'm sorry."

"The fuckers took me from a parking lot! I had ice cream in there..."

"It was planned. Thankfully I found you in time."

"I know you watched the video of them taking me many times. They wanted info, they thought I was only a follower." he almost laughed at that.

"If anything you are the one telling me no."

"Well, they didn't know that." you looked back at him, opening your eyes. "Can you stop that thing? I'm alive, the beeping is making me crazy."

He stood up and went to the other side of the bed, turning the machine off before sitting down by your leg.

"I won't let this happen again, you will be with me at all times or you will have someone with you. I can't lose you." You lifted your hand and put his cheek into your palm, you offered him a weak smile.

"You won't. I'm too stubborn to die anyway, you know that. But I wouldn't mind spending more time with you. You have been busy lately with your plans." he nodded. "I don't blame you for this, if anything its your stupid men who shot me in the shoulder." he made a face at that.

"They told me it was the people who took you."

"They didn't have a gun." you replied and now Kai knew, he needed to have a talk and find just who shot his wife. "I love you. Thank you for saving me."

He didn't want to bring up the fact that he was the very reason you were taken. He can't let that eat him up from the inside. He will just try and move on.

But both of you knew, every time he will see your scars, they will be a reminder to him of his failure. 

Never again. He promised to himself and to you.

"I love you too." he said as he moved his head to kiss your palm.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Tate Langdon appreciating your dark side.

Tate Langdon was the stuff of edgy-teenage daydreams - a ghost, so he couldn’t exactly leave you, quite cute, a dark side, and completely and totally psychotic. No wonder why you fell in deep.

You were that stereotype - dark painted nails, dark dyed hair, music that made no sense at all to your parents, t-shirts with band names that just looked like scribbles and a guitar of your own which you used to play your own moody stuff. That’s what usually brought Tate out - your music, for it was something that you had in common. On this day, you were feeling particularly ticked off because your parents grounded you for fighting in school, so the mood today, the musical theme, was aggression.

“Whoa, what happened to your face?” Tate appeared beside you, his fingertips lightly grazing where your opponent had gotten a couple of good jabs in. He was so gentle with you, sitting beside you on your bed. “You should get some ice on that.”

“Can’t,” You groaned. “Mom used it all to keep her heart so fucking cold. Seriously, one fight. We’ve been here two months and I’ve only been in one fight, she should actually be proud of me. I find reasons for one every day but I gotta be the better person. She doesn’t appreciate shit.”

A large grin took over Tate’s face at your attitude. Your anger towards your parents always amused him. The suburbia goody-two-shoes couple who projected out into the world that everything was perfect while you made sure to burn that reputation down to the ground.

“So what are you going to do about it?” He asked. Which made you think. It wasn’t a question that was often posed. Your parents asked how you were going to make it up to them, but that was an entirely different question. You shrugged. “Could always poison them,” He suggested, his legs swinging back and forth.

“Hmmm - poison is hard to buy these days,” You reasoned. “Also I don’t want to go into the foster system, I’d probably end up with something worse, and I’d end up being taken away from you.”

“Fair, fair, don’t do that,” Tate shook his head quickly. “You could just - enjoy your grounding and stay here with me?”

You thought that over for a moment too. You supposed he had a point. He was here. You weren’t entirely cut off. “But what are we going to do?” You asked in return.

Now it was his turn to think. Then he’d flick your guitar. “Put on a concert loud enough that they’ll regret grounding you.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

American Horror Story masterlist

Key:

Fluff: ♡ Angst: ♤ Smut: ♧ Headcanons: ◇ May contain triggering content: ☆

~

Tate Langdon

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

Tate Langdon dating someone who's transmasc ◇

Nail Polish and Nirvana ♡

~

Violet Harmon

Soft dom Violet Harmon ♧◇

~

Billie Dean Howard

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Moira O'Hara

Duster Fuck ♧

~

Kit Walker

Kit Walker dating someone who's transmasc ◇

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

~

Lana Winters

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Cordelia Goode

Trans fem Cordelia Goode ◇

That a Girl ♧

Caught In the Act ♧

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

Dirty A-Z headcanon game: B, D, L, P, Q, R, S, W, Y ♧◇

~

Kyle Spencer

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

~

Madison Montgomery

Picnic Baskets and Confessions of Love ♤♡

Dance With Me ♡

Madison Montgomery Fluff Alphabet ♡◇

Punishment and Bargaining ♧

Madison Montgomery nsfw alphabet ♧◇

Moral Of The Story ♤♡

~

Jimmy Darling

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

You're Not A Freak, Doll ♤♡

~

Bette and Dot Tattler

Baking With Bette and Dot ◇

Good Girls ♧

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Dandy Mott

Sub Dandy Mott ♧◇

~

Maggie Esmeralda

Run Away With Me ♤♡

~

James Patrick March

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

James Patrick March x reader with anger issues ◇

James Patrick March being nervous around the reader ◇

James Patrick March x deaf reader ◇

~

Sally Mckenna

You Can't Leave Me ♤☆

Hypodermic Sally x reader who tries to leave her ♤◇☆

Sex With A Ghost ♧

Sally Mckenna x reader who's a songwriter ◇

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

Dirty A-Z headcanon game: C, R ♧◇

~

Liz Taylor

Liz Taylor and Tristan Duffy x reader who's a writer ◇

~

Tristan Duffy

Liz Taylor and Tristan Duffy x reader who's a writer ◇

~

Shelby Miller

Hot Tea and Rainstorms ♡

~

Audrey Tindall

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Rory Monahan

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

~

Kai Anderson

Evans characters with a clingy reader ♡◇

Whores Get Nothing ♧

Kidnapping Confessions ♤♧

Cuddling With Pre Cult Kai ◇

~

Ally Mayfair-Richards

The Clown In The Kitchen ♤♡

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Winter Anderson

Winter Anderson fluff alphabet ♡◇

Winter Anderson nsfw alphabet ♧◇

Nighttime Terrors ♤♡

Dom Winter Anderson ♧◇

~

Michael Langdon

Michael Langdon eras x reader with daddy issues ◇

Mornings With Michael ♡

Michael Langdon in a maid outfit ◇

Alphabet Boy ♤♡

Sucking on Michael Langdon's fingers ♧◇

Spanking Michael Langdon ♧◇

Happy Halloween ♧

Enemies With Benefits ♧

Murder House Michael Langdon being soft ♡◇

Calming Techniques ♤☆

~

Wilhemina Venable

Dom Wilhemina ♧◇

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Jeff Pfister

Having an online relationship with Jeff Pfister ◇

~

Brooke Thompson

Late Night Anxieties ♤♡

Date Officially Canceled (Brooke x Donna) ♧

~

Montana Duke

Montana Duke when she gets jealous ◇

~

Xavier Plympton

Sub Xavier Plympton ♧◇

Xavier Plympton being needy ♧◇

Big Trauma Can Come In Small Packages ♤♡

~

Donna Chambers

Roller Rink Romance ♡

Date Officially Canceled (Brooke x Donna) ♧

~

Margaret Booth

Sugar mommy Margaret Booth ♧◇

~

Harry Gardner

Protein Shakes ♤♡

Poly! Harry Gardner x reader x Doris Gardner general relationship headcanons ◇

~

Doris Gardner

Poly! Harry Gardner x reader x Doris Gardner general relationship headcanons ◇

~

Austin Sommers

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow ♤♡

Austin Sommers nsfw alphabet ♧◇

Crimson Sheets ♧

~

Tuberculosis Karen

I Promise ♤☆

Sarah Paulson characters dating someone who's very affectionate ♡◇

~

Dr. Calico

Blue Moon Tears ♤♡

~

[getlostsquidward]

american horror story masterlist

main masterlist | ao3

Billie Dean Howard

wonderland — you and your girlfriend billie steps out into the wider world to reach your dreams. however, will your relationship be able to withstand the pressure it entails?

a palpable phantom (18+) — they say it’s wise to heed the warnings, but if ignoring it leads you to this particular consequence, then warnings be damned.

Cordelia Goode

secrets turn into regrets — you learn that chances are only given to those people who are willing to take the risk.

a forewarning of sorts (18+) — what happens when you find yourself subjected to the sensuous gaze of cordelia?

second chances — you never got to tell her you loved her – lucky for you, a second chance has been given to you.

room for one more — under the influence of booze, you kissed the supreme – and her intimidating redhead girlfriend.

Sally McKenna

no body, no crime — the basement of hotel cortez was the dumping site of corpses. there should be a pile of bodies welcoming sally’s sight, only to find it empty.

Wilhemina Venable

you've got me tied down (18+) — you're more than ms. venable's assistant.

the two times wilhemina denied that she's a cuddler and the one time she's admitted it

room for one more — under the influence of booze, you kissed the supreme – and her intimidating redhead girlfriend.

[amomentsescape]

AHS Apocalypse Masterlist

Michael Langdon

[thethreeeyed-raven]

⋆♱ AHS ♱⋆

navigation

🕷️fluff | 🕸️angst | 🐈‍⬛suggestive | 🪦platonic

⋆♱ MURDER HOUSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Tate Langdon ♱⋆

🕷️ • meeting him in the murder house | gn!reader • part two

headcanons

⋆♱ Violet Harmon ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ ASYLUM ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kit Walker ♱⋆

🕷️ • the first step | x fem!reader

🕸️ • it’s okay to cry | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 🕸️ • home | x gn!reader

⋆♱ COVEN ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kyle Spencer ♱⋆

🕷️ • party party | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Misty Day ♱⋆

🕷️ • listening to fleetwood mac with her | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Nan ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Queenie ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Zoe Benson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ FREAKSHOW ♱⋆

⋆♱ Dandy Mott ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Jimmy Darling ♱⋆

🕷️ • defending him | x gn!reader

⋆♱ HOTEL ♱⋆

⋆♱ James Patrick March ♱⋆

🕷️ • buying him a dog | headcanons | x reader

⋆♱ Tristan Duffy ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ CULT ♱⋆

⋆♱ Ally Mayfair-Richards ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Beverly Hope ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Kai Anderson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ APOCALYPSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Cordelia Goode ♱⋆

🕸️ • as i watch you die | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Michael Langdon ♱⋆

🕸️ • qui totum vult totum perdit | x gn!reader

🕷️ • halloween party | x gn!reader

🕷️ • trick or treating | x gn!reader

🕷️ • bonfire night | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 5th of November | x gn!reader

🕷️ • new years | x gn!reader

🕷️ • valentines together | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Mr Gallant ♱⋆

🕷️ • being his best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ 1984 ♱⋆

⋆♱ Bobby Richter ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • 🪦 • finally | x sibling!reader

⋆♱ Xavier Plympton ♱⋆

🕷️ • i cared too much that it killed me | x gn!reader

⋆♱ DOUBLE FEATURE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Austin Sommers ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • saving you from the pale people | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Harry Gardner ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ TB Karen ♱⋆

🕷️ • inspiration | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Valiant Thor ♱⋆

nothing yet

@lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom • @fangsp1der-2099 • @knight-of-flowerss

[7-wonders]

Walk the Line

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter IX)

Summary: The time has come to meet Papa Legba, but before that, you and Michael have some fun in the Big Easy.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: It's the fic that everybody constantly asks for but nobody ever interacts with, Mad Love! Sigh. I think this is a good one, but let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

Mad Love Masterlist

Showering after a long plane ride, no matter how comfortable and, dare you say, bougie, said plane ride is, does a world of good for the soul. By the time Michael’s finally beginning to get a little impatient (which, for Michael, is pacing back and forth and getting just a little closer to the door every time), you’re feeling refreshed and like you can actually stand to be around people.

Michael’s started switching up his wardrobe, and you’re pleased to see that he’s continuing that trend here in New Orleans. He looks alluring in a wine-colored, button down, short-sleeved shirt. His arms–yes, you can see his arms, and yes, it’s incredibly distracting and makes you want nothing more than to take the shirt off of him–are lightly tanned, completing the “California boy” look that he sports so effortlessly. He leans casually against the wall, his black jeans tucked into a pair of Doc Martens. Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“You ready to go?” You grin, checking your lipstick in the mirror one more time before flipping the bathroom light off. “I’ve been waiting on you for ages.”

He knows that you’re just teasing him, but he can’t resist taking the bait and scoffing. “What? I’ve been the one waiting for you!”

“Whatever you need to say to make yourself feel better.”

“You’re infuriating.” Regardless, he holds his hand out for you to take. “C’mon, we’re not far from where I want to take you, so we’ll walk there.”

Exactly where you walk is an open-air market that’s one of the most vibrant markets you’ve ever been to. Music of all kinds plays from the different booths and storefronts, all types of wares are being sold around you, and there’s so much delicious-smelling food that it makes your head spin. You almost drift off into the crowds without Michael, forgetting that he’s even with you until you’re stopped because you’re still holding onto his hand and he hadn’t been expecting you to walk away.

He stands next to you at each booth you walk to, always right there should you need him but quiet enough that you keep forgetting he’s actually still here. This proves handy, because then you can ask him his opinion of different items that you’re looking at, including the woven bracelet that you now hold up to show him.

“Do you think Kate would like this?” you ask.

When you had told her of your Fall Break plans and asked her to watch your cat, Kate had jokingly asked for a keychain souvenir as payment. You had been planning on buying a gift for her anyways, but now that she was doing you a favor, you had to get her the perfect thank you gift.

“She wore that friendship bracelet you two made when you had your drunk sleepover until it literally fell off,” Michael notes with a cheeky smirk. Said bracelet was just three pieces of embroidery floss clumsily braided together that didn’t last long, but his point is taken. “Yes, I think she’ll like it and wear it all the time.”

“Hmm.” You look at the bracelet again, which looks like somebody harnessed a rainbow and wove it together into a circle, before nodding. “You’re right.”

As you make the purchase, you’re pretty sure you hear Michael mutter behind you that he’s “always right,” but you choose to let him have his little snide, secretive comment.

Half of the fun of going to this type of market, you realize as you walk and window shop with Michael, is the experience in itself. There’s something so fun and unique about getting to look at all of the goods and wares created by so many different people, people who all have lives and stories that have led them here to this moment. They’ve spent years perfecting the craft that they now display for you to look at and enjoy, and the shared human connection of it all is so special.

Another fun part of markets is all of the food, and as you pass a booth and smell the sweet dough, you gasp in delight and pull Michael to a stop. “Ooh, beignets!” 

Naturally, you have to place an order at the stall being run by an uninterested kid who couldn’t be older than 16 and is obviously being forced into helping out by family; that’s how you know it’s going to be good before you’ve even laid eyes on your food. When they put your order down unceremoniously in front of you, a basket of little golden-brown pastries dusted liberally with powdered sugar, you thank them before grabbing it and immediately popping a beignet in your mouth. It’s a little too hot, but you’d rather breathe awkwardly like a dragon for a few moments than let that deter you.

“Mmm!” Michael watches you enjoy the treat, and you hold out the little paper container towards him. “Here, try one.”

“What does it taste like?” Michael asks a little apprehensively.

“It’s a pastry with powdered sugar on top, Michael, I can guarantee you’re going to love it.”

Though he looks a little like he thinks you’re going to poison him (which, if you were, wouldn’t you have done so already?), he takes a small bite of the treat that you’re holding directly in front of his mouth. After chewing for a moment, he grabs the beignet and eats the other half of it, making you smirk in satisfaction. You know your husband, even if he likes to act like you don’t.

Taking a seat on an empty bench, you share the beignets in companionable silence as you watch the colors of the setting sun streak across the sky above you. When you’ve finished, you ball up the empty container and toss it into the trash can next to you before resuming people watching. Families, couples, friends; all different types of people, gathered here to enjoy the same event as you. 

“What are the little lights flying around?” Michael asks finally, dusting his hands off of powdered sugar remnants. 

You look at where he’s gesturing, to the lights beginning to blink on and off intermittently in the grass now that the sun is well and truly setting. “They’re fireflies.” 

A couple of kids run in front of you, hands outstretched as they try to catch the fireflies. The act reminds you of your own childhood, and you smile fondly at the memory. The warm air on your skin, the ambiance of the market, and having the love of your life right next to you make you wish that you could bottle up this moment and keep it with you forever. 

With this sentiment in mind, you can’t help but note, “It’s so beautiful here.”

“It is,” Michael agrees. “Tulane’s a pretty good school too, from what I’ve heard.”

He’s right, but that’s besides the point, and you look at him in surprise. “You’ve been researching grad schools for me?”

“I figured I’d look, maybe try and help to be a part of this process.”

“Michael, that’s really sweet of you.”

Michael shrugs, suddenly bashful. “It’s definitely not a selfless act. I don’t want to hate wherever we end up living for the next three years.”

“Well obviously. Still, I very much appreciate it.” He can try and act like there’s no goodness in him, but you know there is, and that he didn’t even think of himself when looking at schools. No, he wants to make sure that you have the best opportunity available, and you can’t thank him enough. “You’d like New Orleans?”

“It’d be a big change from California, but I think so.”

Standing up, you smile at Michael’s bemused look and use the skills that have lied dormant since childhood. You take a couple of quick steps into the grass and, choosing to attack from above, swipe your hands down and cup them around a firefly. When you peek between your fingers and see that faint glow, you walk back to Michael.

“Here, hold out your hands,” you instruct. He does so hesitantly, holding them open just enough for you to dump your catch into his waiting grasp.

When he looks into his palms to see a fat firefly lazily buzzing around, his face lights up. It’s near-instantaneous, a childlike joy that only you’re privy to see from him, and you feel so lucky that you can. His eyes shine, both physically from the light as well as emotionally from the excitement. It’s addicting; you’d catch a thousand fireflies for him, if this is how he would react every time you presented him with your bounty.

The firefly finally figures out how to leave its little corral, and you both watch it make its way back to the other fireflies lingering in the grass. Michael traces one of his palms with his fingertips, chasing after the phantom sensations left behind by the insect.

“You should try and catch one!” you encourage Michael. 

He actually looks like he’s about to take your advice, until his phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see that the alarm he set is going off. It’s 8:45, which means that date night is over and it’s time to get down to business.

“Maybe next time,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s a little bummed that he can’t grab his own firefly. For Michael, unfortunately, his divine purpose must come first.

He takes your hand in his again, and you walk back towards the main road. Everything about your trip must be pretty centrally located; Michael’s too fond of transmutation to not use it at every opportunity, and the only time he doesn’t is when he can enjoy the quick journey.

“Are you nervous?” Michael asks suddenly.

“For tonight?”

He shakes his head. “No. To graduate and launch into another phase of your life.”

It’s very easy to forget that Michael isn’t like you and that he didn’t share in the panic-inducing (almost) universal experiences of graduating high school and realizing that you’re an adult and responsible for your own choices now. “Of course I am. Applying in itself is nerve wracking, and if I decide to go to school in a completely new area? That’s terrifying. But I’m also excited, and that’s mainly because I’m going to have you there with me to experience all of it–the good and the bad, though hopefully there’s not a lot of bad.”

“I don’t have precognition, but I still foresee a lot of good in our future.”

You don’t say it, but you just hope there’s a future for you that doesn’t involve nuclear winter.

The lights are off at Dinah’s production company, making it look, for all intents and purposes, closed for the night. Either Dinah left the front door unlocked or Michael uses his magic, because the door opens easily when Michael pulls on the handle and lets you walk in before him.

The Voodoo Queen of New Orleans is waiting for you when you step inside, her face lit by the street lamps outside. She’s in an outfit different from what she wore when you were here earlier in the afternoon; though the fabric remains just as crazy, even you can feel the magic imbued within each stitch. Her ritual clothes, then.

“Lock the door behind you,” Dinah commands. Michael does as she asks, and you can hear the lock click into place. After he does this task, she nods and gestures for you to follow. “Let’s go, I got places to be after this.”

Dinah leads you both into her dressing room and through the door that she had come through when you first arrived here earlier in the day. It’s smaller than her dressing room, and obviously used for rituals. Candles are set up on the tables and stands around the room, and the main table, ringed with four chairs, is covered in brightly-colored cloth. A variety of different items sit on its surface, waiting to be used by the woman herself.

Michael pulls out a chair for you to sit in, and you settle yourself onto the seat before he pushes your seat back up against the table and sits down next to you. At the door, Dinah is writing some sort of runes on the wood with chalk. When she finishes with what you assume is a protection charm, she pulls a pack of matches from the pocket of her skirt and begins to light each candle in the room individually. Even with your limited knowledge of the subject, you know that pyromancy is a skill that most magic users master easily.

Sensing your confusion, Michael leans over so that he can whisper in your ear and explain, “It’s a part of the ritual.”

Once all of the candles are lit by her own hand, the woman sits down in the chair on Michael’s other side. She studies you harshly for a moment, making you squirm under her scrutiny, before looking at Michael. “You sure that you want your honey in here to meet Papa? After all, she’s nothing but a pretty little mortal.”

“Y/n is under my protection, which means she is under my father’s protection. Papa Legba cannot touch her soul. If she wants to be here, then she has every right to be here.”

You try to channel a bit of Michael’s confidence and level Dinah with what you hope is a convincing glare when you nod. Inside your pocket, however, you clutch the charm Mallory gave you tightly enough to leave imprints on your palm. 

She shrugs. “Alright then. Your funeral, baby girl.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified to witness whatever is about to happen, especially after the Cordelia summoning went so incredibly wrong. But will you allow your husband’s reluctant ally to know that? Hell no.

Dinah holds out her hand to Michael, who gives his over freely. She turns it so it’s facing palm-up, and takes a deep breath in before beginning to knock on his wrist. After she does so, she places her wrist against his briefly before swiping up a bottle of liquor from the table. The amber liquid is poured into a copper mug, Dinah bringing the mug up to above her head in order to pray to it.

“Papa Legba,” she begins. “Ouvrier barrier pour moi agoe.”

This chant is repeated twice more, but it only takes her invoking him the second time for the shadow of a tall figure wearing what looks to be a top hat to rise against the blank canvas of the wall. As Dinah chants one last time, a cold wind sweeps through the room and brings with it an echoing, deep laugh and the sound of bones clinking together. You grab onto Michael’s hand for reassurance, but reassurance is not what you get when you look at him and see his eyes completely swallowed by black.

Papa Legba looks like a man, but carries an energy that lets anybody and everybody know that he is so much more than just a man. He’s dressed finely, wearing a suit and carrying a walking stick. The top hat that sits on top of his long dreadlocks is decorated with tiny skulls and feathers. A necklace made of beads and claws rests around his neck, and his long cloak sweeps along the floor. White paint covers the top half of his dark face, and his eyes are blood red.

He takes the cup from out of Dinah’s grasp with his own bejeweled hand, his long, pointed fingernails lingering against her skin as he does. Papa Legba drains the liquor from the cup, sighing deeply in satisfaction after he does so. The entire time, Dinah watches in open-mouthed awe, an acolyte faced with the presence of that which she worships faithfully.

“Dinah Stevens! Calling upon me so soon after our last…chat, eh?” He looks down at a couple of cigars sitting on top of a decorative silver plate and hums. “Mm, lucky for you that I cannot resist Cuban cigars, Mambo.”

The empty cup is discarded for one of the cigars, which he holds to his nose in order to properly enjoy it before scratching one of his nails against the end and lighting it. The cherry glows red as he takes a couple of deep puffs, the air growing hot around you as you watch the way that the shadows surrounding him morph in a sentient-like way that shadows most definitely should not be able to move.

Papa Legba takes a seat in the chair next to you, stretching out languidly in a way that reminds you of a cat. In response, you scooch your own chair just a little bit closer to Michael, your heart thundering in your chest.

“The Antichrist – and his little wife!” Papa Legba greets, his voice echoing and layering on top of itself. 

Michael nods in a show of deference, and you do the same. “Papa Legba,” Michael says, his voice sounding an octave lower and echoing just as Papa’s does.

“I am sorry that I could not attend the wedding festivities, mes chers.” He grins at both of you, his gold tooth glinting in the candlelight. “A little drama with your papa, you see. But the entire Underworld was very much abuzz at news of the nuptials, I assure you.”

“We appreciate your well wishes.” Instead of saying anything, you simply nod and smile as a companion to Michael’s statement. You’re sure it looks as forced as it feels. “I assume you know why I asked Dinah to facilitate this meeting?”

He shakes his head, but the smirk on his face gives you the feeling that he knows exactly why he’s here. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“You’ve abandoned your post,” Michael reminds him.

“Oh, that!”

“Yes, that.”

“I will be honest, Mr. Langdon, this was the outcome I was hoping to achieve as a result of my actions.”

“There are easier ways to arrange a meeting with me.” Michael smiles meanly, thanks to his demonic nature. “But that’s neither here nor there. Why did you want to meet?”

You and Dinah glance at each other from across the table, both relegated to silent observers as the other two parties in the room get down to business.

“The lords of Hell are not too pleased with the current plans. Ending the world?” Papa Legba tuts and shakes his head. “Now, that just takes all of the fun out of everything. Who will barter with me when the only souls left on Earth are devoted followers of Satan or half-dead?”

“Ah, so you’re the messenger.”

“I’ll confess, I have been sent by my fellow demons to attempt to sway you. For some reason, they think that I am the best public speaker.” He puts a hand to his chest as if he’s touched by the sentiment.

“And how are you attempting to sway me?”

“My dear boy, I am here to convince you not to start an apocalypse.” 

The moment he finishes his sentence, Michael’s anger causes the flames of the candles to burn brightly towards the ceiling. Though Papa Legba tries not to act affected by the show of power, you can see how even the shadows begin to cower away from their master in fear.

Out of all the possible reasons Papa Legba could have given for wanting to meet with Michael, this was one that you never even imagined. Literal demons are on your side when it comes to the apocalypse issue? You thought that they would have loved nothing more than to have free reign on Earth, but the point raised by Papa, of their entire purpose being annihilated along with the world were Michael to end it, is intriguing. Still, you try to feign disinterest, especially seeing how pissed Michael is. If he were to find out that you agreed, especially now, then the only thing certain about his reaction is that it would not at all be good.

“I don’t know whether to call this bold or stupid,” Michael says. “Attempting to organize a coup, with the knowledge and support of the one diametrically opposed to your plans? It’s certainly unique, I’ll tell you that.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong. This is not a coup, Mr. Langdon. Rather, a plea. I wish to lay out our case, and you may decide what you will do with that information.”

Michael looks like he’d enjoy nothing more than sending Papa Legba right back to the Underworld. In a show of restraint, however, he sits back in his chair and nods. “Go on, then.”

“We understand the logic behind Satan’s desire to end the world in a blaze of fire. It’s…poetic, in a way, and it would give him finality in the battle he’s been waging with Heaven since the moment he fell. However, think about what happens after the world ends! The hierarchy of Hell and the Underworld–poof! Gone! There is no more bartering to be done, no more corrupting to do, no more souls to claim. The human race will be basically extinct, and without our function, we–that is, demons–will cease to exist. Hell will likely cease to exist.”

This makes a lot of sense, actually. If there is nobody around to invoke Papa Legba and attempt to trade with him, then Papa Legba serves no use to the grand scheme of the universe. Much in the way that the old gods faded from reality as they simultaneously faded from the minds and beliefs of those who once called themselves followers, the creatures that populate the Underworld would have nobody to fear or believe in them.

“Therefore, I must ask you to think of the potential consequences and find another way to accomplish what Satan has tasked you to do.” A puff of cigar smoke is inhaled deeply by Papa Legba before he breathes it out again in a perfect ring, physically putting a period at the end of his speech.

Michael tilts his chin up in response, his expression one of defiance and rage. “I will fulfill my birthright and the plans that my father has been preparing me for, and nothing will stop that. Not you, and not if all the legions of Hell were to band together.”

“That just might have to be arranged, then.” Papa Legba stands, towering over your little group once more. 

You get the feeling that this is what he had expected of this meeting, which doesn’t do your nerves much good. What’s Plan B for demons, when Plan A involves shirking their responsibilities as gatekeeper between the worlds?

Taking the last cigar that had been offered to him, Papa Legba slides it up the sleeve of his coat until it disappears. When he looks at Michael, he grins and laughs. “Until next time, Antichrist.”

With a gust of wind and the clinking of bones, he turns and melts into his shadows. Still, the heat remains, and you realize then that it’s Michael, still furiously glowering at the spot just occupied by one of Hell’s highest-ranking demons, that’s the source. As you fruitlessly call his name and try to get his attention, doing anything you can to bring him back from the demon that currently inhabits his body with no signs of relinquishing it any time soon, you think about just how foolish your earlier hopes of a normal future with Michael had been. As of right now, it appears that if Michael has his way, even the demons of Hell will be annihilated by the nuclear bombs, and sooner rather than later.

Shit.

•••

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdon @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @wroteclassicaly @we-did-it-joe @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @langdonsjoyy @aftertheglitterfades @ferndolan @iamlivingforturner @moonlike33 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angiestopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Valentines day themed requests are open!!!

[darling-i-read-it]

The Mistress

Harry Gardner x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut (blowjob), cheating, sex in a public bathroom literally while his family is in the other room (who am i) 

Author’s Note: Hi love! Sorry this took so long! I feel like I went with the slightly creepy route straight into a bj lmao so I hope you like it. I don’t know how I feel lmaoo

Requested by anon, Happy to hear you're doing well, hun! I'm so excited to see your upcoming pieces because these most recent two are absolute gems 💗(I'm a big GTA and RE fan what can I saw I was overjoyed to see them 🤭)

Don't mind me with another Harry request (my sincere apologies, I'm obsessed 😌) I had this potentially spicy plot in mind - Harry x fem!reader. When he sees her being flirty with someone but cannot let his jealousy show since his wife is like RIGHT there. But still makes sure to let her know how much she upset him later on 😉 Take your time with this sweetie and if you don't feel like writing it that's totally ok too! 🤗 Thank you for gracing this site with your lovely works and making my day with them as well. Take care and have a wonderful day/night ~ Addie ❤

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Harry’s love for his wife was obligatory. The love he had for her was necessary, to keep their family going. He had created a space where he could comfortably do his job and be seen as successful. He had the wife, the house, and the kid. He had the room to grow and the means to do it. 

But you…you were not a want. You were a need. You were alluring in his worst times, gorgeous in his best. He could watch you move for hours and wonder what it was about you that entranced him. He could picture you from the bed as you slipped your clothes on and the memory filled his entire eyesight. He could see nothing else but you when you were there. 

You were like one of the people he wrote about. You were unreal. He couldn’t live without you now. 

“You’re starring,” your voice broke him from his thoughts. Sometimes he forgot you were actually there. You sat on the side of the bed, arms moving with grace down to your feet. You put your socks on, side eyeing him. “Everything alright?” 

“Uh huh.” He was in a shitty motel with sheets that he knew hadn’t been washed in far too long. 

“H?” You sat up straight. He grabbed your hand, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine,” he promised. You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. 

“You have to get back.” The time schedule he was on was brutal. Sometimes he wondered if the life he had was even worth all this. Couldn’t he just live here with you forever? The misery of his demonic child and his never ending wife seemed like a hell he had trapped himself in. When had he wanted that? “Henry.” 

“I’m here. I swear. I just don’t want to leave you.” Your face read the emotions he was feeling. You didn’t want to leave either but someone had to. If this thing was to be sustainable, you had to go. 

“I never thought I’d be here you know,” you muttered. Even your voice sounded melodic. “In bed with a married man. Jesus. What would my mother say?” He felt a pang of guilt but not for the person who he should’ve. He had put you in this position. You could’ve been living a life with a free man, someone to show you off to the world. Instead you were in shitty hotels by the ocean, the salt coming in through broken window frames. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You shook your head. 

“It’s alright. We’re in this boat together, hm?” He grabbed your hand and held it. The hand that had just been all over him, the hand that had felt every inch of his body. You must have been thinking about it too because you kissed him gently. A goodbye kiss. He wanted to curse, to beg you to stay. He didn’t. 

“I need to write you into a story,” he said against your lips. 

“Oh yeah? The girl who never got what she wanted?” 

“The girl who could get whatever she desired.” 

“That sounds better than my thing.” You smiled gently. “I’ll see you later?” He nodded, a promise he was sure to keep. He hoped he wouldn’t see you around town before that, for the sake of his life. For the sake of yours! You stood up. “I’m excited to read what you write me into. Hopefully a better situation than this.” 

You thought about the character of you and envied her. You would be her one day, you hoped. 

-

She was like fire if it never spread. Her silence was dangerous, the presence of her was terrifying. Electrifying was an understatement. She was the lightning that made electricity. She was the origin, the start, the very being that could bring down trees with a touch. She was-

“What’re you writing?” Doris’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His initial reaction scared him a bit and he tried to be more caring. 

“Nothing. Nothing, I don’t think anyway.” He shut his computer. 

“Are we still going out to dinner?” 

“Yes. Yeah, sorry, time got away from me.” He got up from the chair. Doris was standing beside Alma who had her coat and shoes on already. She was giving Harry a look of disinterest, similar to her mothers. But Doris at least tried to cover it with a feign emotion, one he couldn’t grasp. “Coming.” 

They piled into the car and were quickly arriving at a small diner. The small diners in Provincetown were stereotypical and uninteresting. There was little local color and little locals. He saw you the second he walked in, like you had attracted his eyes like a magnet. You were sitting at the counter, a milkshake between your hands. Your hair fell in front of your eyes a bit as a smile played on your face. His eyes followed to the waiter you were speaking to. A man about your age, sharing your smile. The jealousy in him was surprising. He didn’t own you. 

But he wanted to. 

You hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he could convince Doris to leave and go somewhere else. 

“Right here. You’re the newer family right? Big house on the water?” Their waitress said, gesturing to the table. Doris had been speaking and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Yes ma’am,” Harry responded. 

“We don’t get lots of visitors here, except for the writers.”

“My husbands the writer,” Doris explained. At the mention of the topic, you turned your head ever so slightly. Your eyes locked for just a moment, zero panic in your face. It was like you didn’t even know him. You turned your head back to the waiter behind the counter. 

“What kinds of things do you write?” the waitress asked. 

“Screenplays.” “Anything I’ve seen?” 

“Not yet,” Doris promised. You were too distracting. He couldn’t stay here with you. His phone buzzed and he knew it was you. He checked it obsessively, turning it towards him so that Doris and Alma couldn’t see. 

I’m sorry, you texted. He didn’t answer. 

“Can I get you started with some waters?” 

His eyes flickered to you. Smiling at the waiter, a gentle comradery. It made him sick. 

“Yes please,” Doris said. She watched him and his discomfort but couldn’t find the source of it. The waitress left, leaving them alone, without a buffer between him and you. He opened up his phone again, staring at the message. You should leave. Why weren’t you leaving? “Everything okay?” 

He couldn’t hear what you were saying but he could see your hand brushing the waiters. Closer to your age, likely not married. Attainable. You could have something attainable. He glanced at Doris and nodded curtly. 

“I just need to go to the bathroom.” He got up, loudly. She scoffed, nodding. 

“Okay.” He pushed past you. Your eyes followed him as he turned the corner. You looked back at the waiter. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the little girls room.” You slid off the stool with a small smile and left your milkshake. You turned the corner and knocked on the men's bathroom door. It opened quickly. It was the type of bathroom that was private, without stalls. Just two rooms. 

Harry grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. He shut the door and locked it behind you. 

“I didn’t know you would be here,” you argued. He was standing so close to you, practically pining you to the door. 

“Who was that?” 

“Who was who?” 

“Don’t act coy,” he spat. You had never seen him so angry, jealousy practically dripping from his eyes. 

“The waiter? He’s a friend.” 

“That all?” “Harry, we can't do this right now. Your family is outside. Come on, we’ll talk later.” You made no movement. He starred, at you, at your features, the ones he could always find comfort in. He grabbed your wrist. “Harry?”

“Get on your knees.” 

You raised an eyebrow but the look in his eyes was too alluring to argue. He was usually gentle and guiding through sex, always careful with you even when he was rougher. You didn’t mind the demanding tone in his voice. You slinked down the door, onto your knees. You looked up at him. 

He was gazing down at you, his hand cupping your chin. You waited to see what he would do. Was he being so daring because his family was out there? Had you crossed a line neither of you had dared to verbalize? 

You put your hands on his waistband. He nodded, ushering you along. You undid his belt and fought with his jeans to pull them down. It didn’t take long for him to get hard at the adrenaline of the moment and you sitting before him. You pumped with your hand, staring up at him still. 

You wanted to tell him the waiter meant nothing. But actions spoke louder than words. You wrapped your lips around him, eyes locked, a glaze over his. He was staring at you like you were a meal. As you moved up and down, bobbing your head back and forth, he grabbed a fist full of your hair. He started to guide you more forcefully, a jealousy lacing his touch. 

You came up for air as minimally as you could. He lasted too long. His family was going to miss him. They would see your lone milkshake and wonder which of you would leave first. There weren’t enough people in this diner to not connect the dots. 

His precum was drooling down your chin. He wanted to fuck you. He knew he didn’t have time. Instead he let you make him cum, swallowing everything you could, making an erotic gagging noise as you did so. His moans came out muffled but clear, head tilted back in pleasure. 

You wiped your mouth, leaning your head against the door. 

“Feel better?” you asked. He scoffed. He helped you up, catching you as you stumbled. He kissed you, tasting himself among your lips. He could stay here with you forever and starve happily. “You go out first,” you muttered. “I’ve gotta wash up.” 

He nodded. He stared at you for a moment longer, brushing your hair out of your face. You locked eyes and the intimacy filled up the bathroom. You wanted to kiss him again but knew you had no time. You would have to let him go, just this once. 

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Anytime H.” You slithered away from him. “Pull your pants up and go back to your family.”

[inmyfxith]

First Love, Part. I

Pairing: Jimmy Darling x reader

OC: None

Warnings: None

Words: 2k7

Part. II, Part. III, Part. IV

Living in Jupiter, Florida, proved to be no picnic. Especially when your family found herself among the most respected in the community. Recognized as a small settlement, Jupiter appeared to be a crowded town. Many people in the community seemed to have known each other for decades. Rarely would you find a single inhabitant who did not share a blood connection with another.

We must go back in time to acknowledge where these connections originated. The first settlers moved to the area in the eighteenth century. At that time, some Indian tribes were living there. In order not to lose the pure blood of the white man, many of them united themselves through marriages. Thus, the births linked to the intermarriages created the community of Jupiter.

You came to be no different. Your parents' relationships grew out of their high school years. Because they lived in the same neighborhood, their exchange intensified over the years. A wedding soon followed, and soon, Jupiter welcomed a new little soul. The blowing of your fifth candle featured the entry of the USA into World War II. Like many other men of his generation, your father suffered from the mobilizations. Yet, he soon found his way back home.

Your calm and respectful nature strengthened your parent's conviction to extend the family. Three new faces appeared to the delight of your father, for whom a large family meant prosperity. He received three boys who would carry on the family name with pride and continuity. Soon, your role as the eldest took a new meaning.

Growing up, you learned to look after yourself and your brothers. While your father worked, your mother attended a lot of Tupperware meetings. Police detective, he rarely found himself at home. No one could follow your mother to the meetings. She claimed you tended to be too young or that you would get bored.

So, to make pocket money, you dedicated your free time to babysitting. With your hard-earned money, you gave yourself a weekly treat. Every Wednesday, you enjoyed going to the local diner. There, you could eat a mixed salad and read the newspaper. Your break could, sometimes, include a walk by the Jupiter Lighthouse.

Like the other children of Jupiter, your future seemed set. From your future career to the man you would marry. Yet, some areas remained unclear. Unfortunately for your parents, their plans were about to fall through.

The first obstacle to your success involved a man named Jimmy Darling. He used to show up at the diner on Wednesday afternoons. The first few times, you walked past each other without noticing each other's presence. Well, without him ever noticing you. The young man sat opposite you. His favorite pastime was flirting with the waitress. Carol's greatest dream tended to be fleeing from Jupiter. To achieve it, she worked at the diner five days a week.

The reason Jimmy didn't notice you remained simple. You usually arrive before him and hide behind the Jupiter-Tequesta Inquirer. But this time appeared to be different. Due to a delay, the young man took his seat a few minutes before you.

As you pushed open the door to the diner, you greeted Carol with a pleasing smile on your face. The waitress stood behind the counter, close to the man with the gloves, as she called him. When she heard you, she straightened up to respond.

"I thought you wouldn't come in this week!" Carol flashed a smile at Jimmy before handing you the day's newspaper. Your attention went immediately to the cover of the newspaper.

Your father's work as a detective with the Jupiter Police Department never made it past the door. He never talked about his investigations or what was going on in town. So the newspapers turned out to be your only source of information on the subject. A murder happened recently. A milkman had found a woman dead in her own home. According to the police, the only suspect appeared to be a girl with two heads. The headlines mentioned a two-headed freak. Curious about it, you turned the pages with great attention. At some point, your elbow bumped into your neighbor's. By the time you got there, no one was next to you. Thus, you excused yourself.

"First time?" your neighbor came out to be Jimmy Darling. Besides the delightful smile on his lips, dimples formed on her cheeks. The black leather cap matched his jacket and gloves, which he never seemed to take off.

With round eyes, you found yourself unable to answer his simple question. His gaze roamed on the newspaper you were holding before Carol came to your rescue. The waitress brought your salad. As you blushed, she took the initiative to answer.

"Y/N comes in every Wednesday for lunch. Always at this place, she orders the same meal." Carol offered you an understanding smile as she leaned toward the two of you.

Not used to these exchanges, you put a lock of brown hair behind your ear.

"No way! How could I have missed such beauty?" Jimmy tended to be a smooth talker, and you knew it. Yet, your body kept expressing discomfort as you blushed even more.

Still speechless, your eyes met Carol's. Jimmy understood your discomfort and, like a gentleman, he jumped out of his seat. The young man exchanged some words with Carol. He speculated he would be back the following Wednesday since he now had something to look after. Raising your eyes toward him, he threw you a ravaging smile. Jimmy also winked at you before leaving the diner.

That brief interaction filled your mind for the rest of the afternoon. And your imagination allowed itself to invent the next meeting. Jimmy hadn't lied. The following Wednesday, he showed up for dinner again. But also those that followed. He allowed himself the pleasure of coming to make conversation by buying you a drink here and there. Jimmy revealed himself as reserved when you asked him about personal subjects.

Over time, your shell broke, allowing him to discover what kind of woman you were. "What if we went for a ride together? We'll take my bike!" Jimmy suggested, on a whim, when you had finished your salad. If he had made this proposal on the previous Wednesday, there is no doubt that you would have accepted it. Unfortunately, the timing could not have been worse. One of your father's colleagues had asked to see your mother at the police station. As a result, you had to watch your brothers for the rest of the afternoon. Without refusing his proposal in its entirety, you offered to pick you up at your school the next night.

In front of your house, a police car parked as if the driver came in a hurry. It was not your father's car. You would have recognized it by the little bear that hung under its rearview mirror. Approaching the front door, Detective Jack Colquitt emerged from the house. His face bore an overwhelmed look. Colquitt knew you since you were born, he had never been the best policeman in Jupiter, yet he would do his job. Once he passed you, he shook his head before getting back into his car.

"Jack came to ask me if I'd heard from your father in the last few days." Ready to go to bed, your mother wore a mustard yellow bathrobe to hide her faded nightgown. Her arms crossed, the expression on her face detailed anxiety.

"Don't tell your brothers." As said before, your father rarely goes away for very long without giving any news. He used to call the police station or even your mother to inform them where he was. But this time, Robert Bunch left only a family and colleagues in a state of worry and incomprehension. Things must have been important enough for Jack to go on his own when the meeting got scheduled at the police station.

The next evening, you waited for Jimmy for almost an hour, but he never showed up. So you walked home, telling yourself how stupid you were to think that a boy like him could be interested in you.

The following Wednesday, you didn't show up at the diner. You changed your day to ensure that you wouldn't run into him, yet you did. He immediately sat down beside you. His face showed a guilty expression that you missed right away.

Jimmy stood so close to you that the fabric of his jacket almost caressed your arm. With a wave of his gloved hand, he motioned for Carol to bring him what he used to order before turning back to you.

"Look, doll, I wanted to come to you, but there's..." Jimmy started before you cut him off, which wasn't something you used to do.

"You don't need to apologize... because I'm not mad at you." you continued, but your intervention didn't manage to convince him. He moved closer to you, so close you could feel his breath caressing the side of your neck.

"There was a problem where I work. That's why I couldn't pick up my angel for a motorcycle ride." His comments made you grin against your will. You wanted to forget about this smooth talker, but he was good. So, you turned to him, a slight smile on your lips.

"Tell me where you work, and I'll come to see you since you can't get away." Flashing his charming smile again, Jimmy still seemed to hesitate for a moment. He ended up writing it on the small piece of paper you had handed him, where you could find him.

A little bit naive, and even if you didn't recognize the address, you showed up there one morning. You cooked a full plate of pancakes to sweeten the deal with Jimmy's coworkers. When your mother asked where you wanted to go, you lied, pretending of a meeting with a classmate. She called a taxi but ordered you to come back early because she needed to see her own friends.

The smell of hot pancakes wafted into the car, and the driver asked for one as payment. Closing the door, your plate in your hands, you couldn't believe your eyes. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Large banners praising the merits of frightening personalities were floating in the wind. These elements raised doubts about the truthfulness of Jimmy's words.

Observing your movements, a young woman approached you. In an aggressive tone, she informed you that the ticket office did not seem open before yelling that you should not stay. Taking courage, you asked her if she knew Jimmy Darling. The young woman looked at you from head to toe before asking you to wait.

So you did, taking care not to let your eyes linger where they shouldn't. At some point, your knight in shining armor appeared. His leather gloves still protecting his hands. The expression on his face made him glow, as did the dimples on his cheeks as he smiled at you.

"You came!" He exclaimed while his appearance had brought a stupid smile to your face. He observed the dish you were holding in your hands and relished the faint smell of rum from it.

"I didn't tell you I was coming, so to make up for it, here are some pancakes!" Jimmy pretended to have a surprise for you too. He then led you to the center of the camp, his hands resting on your eyes to prevent you from cheating.

Still holding your plate, you groped your way forward to avoid falling. After some steps, both of you stopped. You took a moment to listen to the sounds and assumed people were around you.

When Jimmy removed his hands, you stayed stunned by the vision. A small group of people sitting around a wooden table stared at you with round eyes. Among them, a woman of above-average proportions took a sip of water. Next to her stood a shorter man with arms that looked malformed. As she slid down the bench with her arms, your body took a step back when you noticed that the woman in front of you had no legs.

A young man appeared to polish chicken eggs with great attention. Your back hitting Jimmy's chest made you realize how unwelcome your behavior was. Embarrassed by it, you finally tried to break the ice.

"If I had known, I would have made more pancakes." Your peculiar comment made Jimmy chuckle. He turned away for a few moments so you wouldn't think he could be making fun of you. The man with the malformed and tattooed arms approached you. With a lot of sympathies, he shook your hand. After introducing himself as Paul, he took your plate. You met Amazon Eve and Suzi. Jimmy introduced you to Meep, Pepper, and Salty before inviting you around the table. His face seemed more relaxed than when he met you next to the cab.

Once seated around the table, they enjoyed your cooking as if it was not something usual.

Some of them let out slight groans after the first bite, and when the dish ended up empty, many of them seemed pained. You stood there for a long time talking and getting to know people you don't get to meet on the street.

A little shy at first, you eventually relaxed. They were different from the descriptions people were giving of them. And you ended up blaming yourself for ever believing what they said.

"I have an uncle who became a clown in a freak show. My mother found him very friendly. But he left Jupiter a few months after I was born. I don't know what happened to him."

Discussions continued throughout the afternoon. It wasn't until you saw the sky turn orange that you realized what time it was. Your mother would worry about your absence. It was inconceivable to torture her any further after your father's unexplained departure.

"I promise to come back as soon as I can.." you announced as Pepper had wrapped her arms around you and didn't want to let go. But Eve managed to convince her to let you go. Jimmy called you a cab. On the way to your starting point, you announced that you might be coming back with your brothers. Such animation in town could only be positive for their morale, and especially yours.

Letting your eyes wander one last time, the decoration of a caravan caught your attention. Attached to Jimmy's first and last name was a nickname that made you frown, "Lobster Man". You stopped, forcing your friend to ask you what was going on. Not wishing to appear rude, his gloves appeared as your way of finding out the truth.

"You're not wearing your gloves because you're cold, are you?" You asked with a slight smile, you had never believed his story but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Your remark seemed to bring up anxiety in him, the same you had already felt when he took his hands away from your eyes. You approached, wanting only to reassure him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” your voice was identical to the one you used with your brothers. When they came to you whenever they had some kind of problem your parents couldn’t solve. Plunging your gaze into his, you didn’t notice that he was about to tell you his most shameful secret. Jimmy dropped his gloves to the floor, but you hadn’t even glanced at what he was hiding underneath the cloth. Your heart had started beating faster. Your own hands were sweaty, and before you knew it, your faces were dangerously close. And your lips ended up touching.

It was both gentle and violent. Gentle because neither of you wanted to hurt the other. Violent because it was the thing you had both been dreaming of doing for some time. Jimmy’s hands quickly grabbed your waist as one of yours found refuge in the lobster man’s hair.

The cab driver’s horn, yet, made the moment that seemed almost dreamlike stop. It was the first time you kissed someone like that, the first time you kissed someone. Opening the cab door, Jimmy placed one last kiss on your lips as a goodbye. He begged you to promise to come back and see him. Which you obviously did.

[multific]

The Interrogation

Kai Anderson x Reader

Summary: Your husband is a suspect in a murder case that he most definitely committed. So, the cops bring you in for questioning.

"Mrs Anderson, we just have a couple of simple questions about your husband." two detectives sat down in front of you, you just wanted to roll your eyes but instead went along with it. "You do know why you are here right?"

"No. I do not." you said and from that point on, it was game on.

"Beverly Whells was found dead a week ago near the college your husband teaches at, in fact, she was one of his students. We suspect him to be the killer. And we have a couple of questions, such as where were you last Wednesday between 3pm until next morning."one of them asked as he put down pictures of Beverly in front of you on the table.

"Last Wednesday, I went home from work and stopped by a store to grab some things for dinner. I arrived home around 6pm and started to make dinner."

"Where was your husband at that point? Or rather, where did you believe he was?"

"He was already home by the time I arrived as he usually is. He gets off early on Wednesdays and Fridays," you replied as you leaned back in your chair.

"Did you know Beverly?"

"I might have seen her on campus once or twice. I never pay much attention to the students."

"Where was your husband last Wednesday night?"

"In bed with me. As he always is."

"How can you be sure he didn't leave to meet up with Ms Whells?" asked the other detective.

"I'm a light sleeper, I wake up to the smallest things. I would have noticed if he moved." you let out a long sigh, so he was the bad cop.

"We believe it was your husband who killed this girl. Now, we are not sure if you were also a part of this or not Mrs Anderson."

"Why would any of us want to kill her?"

"Maybe you got jealous? Young woman, always around your husband... Perhaps they had an affair and you took revenge." you laughed at that.

"If it would have been me, you wouldn't have found her." the way you said it with such confidence and with that cold stare, sent shivers down the detective's spine. "My husband and I were sleeping that night. I can give you our home camera footage, we never left the house. Can I go now?"

"Yes, and we do want the camera footage." you nodded at both detectives before heading out. 

Kai was waiting for you next to your car.

"How did it go?" he asked with a childish smile.

"They are just as stupid as you said they would be." he pulled you close and kissed your temple.

"One step closer to complete my plan," he said with a wide grin and you smiled at him as you leaned up to give him a kiss.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a Christian girl, and having Tate try to change your faith.

“Tate, you need to stop doing this - please,” You pleaded as you turned the crucifix on your bedroom wall from the upside down position, down to what it was supposed to be.

The teenage ghost rolled his eyes. “It’s either upside down, or you’re taking it down. He creeps me out.”

“He creeps you out?” You asked, more than a little surprise. This was the school shooting Tate Langdon after all, the one who constantly fiddled with the religious iconology of your family, teasing you about it relentlessly. But this was something new.

“I feel like he’s always watching me. Watching us. It’s hard enough getting alone time with you, with all the other fuckers around here. Now I gotta deal with those beady little eyes-”

“Tate...” You said, softer than you meant to. Having lived in this house for six months now, you’ve gotten used to a lot of Tate’s behaviors. The same ones that made you appalled and aghast in the first place. You tried to see past all of the gloating and showboating to the message that was underneath and try to find the sweetness. If you didn’t, you’d go mad. Reluctantly, you took the crucifix, the strung up Jesus, off of the wall and held it in your hand. “Maybe just for a little while...”

“Thank fuck for that,” He said, putting his arms around you and lifting you up from the ground into a spin. The wooden cross went flying from your hands, landing on the floor and sliding across from it. It went further than it normally would be able to, going right out the door. Probably for someone else to play with but it went forgotten for the moment as you were swept up inside of Tate. The boy you believed you could convert one day. The boy who was thinking the same about you.

Requested by: Anonymous

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Cordelia y/n female reader secretly dating think the Coven is empty get caught fucking on Cordelia's desk by Fiona. Fiona catches Cordelia making reader female ejaculate and instead of anger brags that sexual prowess runs in the family.

I love this, especially since that is such a Fiona thing to do lmao

Caught In the Act (Cordelia Goode x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, fingering, dirty talk, bottom reader, top Cordelia

"Delia, we're gonna get caught!" You whispered frantically as she removed your underwear.

"No, we're not. Everyone is out for the day. The girls are seeing a movie, Fiona's drinking at some bar, and as an extra precaution I sent Spalding out to get groceries. Nobody's going to catch us, alright?" She gently reassured you, lacing her fingers through yours.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, baby. Don't worry."

She gave you a passionate kiss, her free hand resting on the inside of your thigh. You eagerly kissed her back, setting the hand that wasn't holding hers on the back of her neck so you could pulled her closer. Cordelia began to softly stroke the inside of your thigh, deliberately teasing you.

"Delia, you're doing that on purpose!" You complained.

"Am I?" She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before you could answer, she plunged two of her fingers into your wet and eager hole.

You moaned wantonly, glad that nobody other than your girlfriend was around to hear it. She smirked, thrusting her fingers in and out of you at a slow, steady pace.

"Do you like that, baby? Do you like how my fingers fill you up?" She whispered in your ear as you clung to her.

You nodded your head, unable to remember how to speak properly.

"Aw, poor baby. Can't even remember how to talk," she said, faking sympathy. "Too bad. I usually enjoy hearing you scream my name, but seeing you look this fucked out when you haven't even cum yet works just as well."

She slipped in a third finger as she quickened her pace. At this point, you were on the brink of cumming, and she knew it too.

"Are you gonna cum soon, baby? Huh? You gonna cum on my fingers?" Using her thumb, she began rubbing your clit, trying to push you over the edge. "C'mon, baby. Cum for me."

You whimpered, letting out a breathy moan as you rocked your lower body against her hand, trying to create as much friction as possible.

Just as you came, you heard the door open, the scent of cigarettes wafting through the air. You looked over Cordelia's shoulder to see none other than Fiona, standing in the doorway, cigarette in hand.

You braced yourself, thinking she and Cordelia were going to start one of their infamous screaming matches, but instead she merely chuckled before bringing her cigarette to her lips and taking a long drag.

"Y'know, us Goodes are known for our sexual prowess and abilities. It runs in the family, you might say."

"Mother, get out!" Cordelia ordered, doing her best to shield your naked body from her.

"Fine. But if you ever leave her-" Fiona said, pointing at you, "-mark my words, you'll never find anyone better equipped to give you an orgasm ever again, not even yourself." And with that, she turned and left, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Cordelia shut the door with a flick of her wrist as you gave her a look that said "I told you so".

"Nobody's gonna catch us, huh?"

~

Taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @nevilleismywhore @ethrealzzz @your-next-daydream

[sawyerconfort]

ask me a prompt!

So, I've decided that I'm going to innovate with the AHS: Coven imagines and write them based on a new list of prompts (now made exclusively by me), to help with ordering and writing as well.

Ask rules remain the same, but now you can use more than one prompt when you ask me! I'll use the same list for the other fandoms I write about, if anyone wants it, feel free to ask.

Requests are open!

PROMPTS HEREEEEE:

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

“you smell really nice.”

“is that my shirt?”

“i think i’m falling for you.”

“you okay?”

“i’m here with you.”

“was that your first kiss?”

“please, i want cuddles.”

“yes, you can hold my hand, sweetie.”

“go to sleep.”

“i’ll keep you warm.”

“it’s a surprise.”

“i’d never be afraid of you.”

“i’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

“i trust you.”

“will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?”

“will you marry me?”

“why are we hiding?”

“please, talk to me.”

“it’s okay, you can cry.”

“hold still.”

“i’m glad you’re okay.”

“you’re here with me.”

“i missed you.”

“don’t go!”

“listen, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“looking good, babe!”

“did you just called me baby?”

“you called me.”

“baby.”

“you’re my family.”

“you matter to me.”

“language!”

“kiss me.”

“i’m ready.”

“was that good enough for you?”

“you’re my whole world.”

“i love you.”

“what do you mean with... pregnant?”

“stay.”

“no, i’ll take care of you.”

“are you hungry?”

“tell me who hurt you.”

“i’ll be the little spoon.”

“you’re sick, you need to rest.”

“who’s jealous?”

“who’s she/he/they?”

“you’re so jealous.”

“you look sexy.”

“take off your clothes.”

“let me unzip your dress, please.”

“i will never get enough of you.” 

 “use your words.”

"don't hold back.."

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