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satangcrush · 1 month

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the wise sorcerer, solomon

✦ PAIRING: solomon x reader ✦ SUMMARY: reimagined first meeting with solomon & dark!solomon brain rot goes crazy lol ✦ WC: 2.8k

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There is no reassurance in the Devildom, at least not for you yet. The fear is always there, an underlying current that thrums through your veins whenever a demon comes in range of you. Sometimes, when you lie awake at night, you wonder if they could smell your distress, if they could hear how your heartbeat races despite your brave front. You often mediate if the promise from the current Devildom ruler would hold strong and you know the fear in your heart does not abade even with his ressurance.

That was when you met Solomon – the Wise Sorcerer as people call him. The demon prince introduced him as a human, but does humans smile the way he does? In your opinion, you don’t quite think he was human at all, his lips curled in a way that made your skin crawl with unease. His eyes bore into your soul and it makes a question rise to the tip of your tongue. You almost want to ask him, what do you see there?

You don’t ask your question. Instead, you reluctantly accept his handshake. A voice in the back of your mind noted that when his steady hands wraps around yours, the callouses that forms the shape of his life, burn where he touches. And when you look up to meet his perceptive gaze, his laughter, lilting and incomprehensible, fills the room and rings in your head as it encompasses your entire being.

You swallow inaudibly, and unable to hold his stare, you turned to look at the demon prince. From your peripheral vision, Solomon’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly, as he waits for a reaction. You just don’t know if it’s yours or the demon prince’s that he’s looking for.

Your first meeting with him only left an unending question in the depths of your mind.

Time was the only constant in the Devildom, as well as a haunting reminder that you didn’t belong there, that you were ripped away from your own reality. Even as you fought tooth and nail to carve your space into the demon brothers’ lives, you still felt hollow as if something was missing. You often come up blank, confused at this feeling that you can’t quite place your finger on.

You sit by Asmodeus’s side on the bed in his room. Both of you have finished doing the skincare routine that he had prepared – a long time ago, and the now familiar nasally voice of his relaxes your mind as you sink further into the mattress, careful to not smear the product on your face lest he admonishes you.

The soothing voice of his washes over you with a fog, a tell-tale sign that you don’t have the slightest clue of what the Avatar of Lust has been telling you for the past hour. Your thoughts remain hazy and when he asks you that damned question, you mistakenly told him your thoughts on Solomon.

“Hm,” Asmodeus says cordially, a serene smile placed on his porcelain-like face. He stares down at you as he crawls over to pat your face patronisingly, “I can’t have my two favourite humans disliking each other, can I?”

A flicker of panic rises through your haze but Asmodeus tempers your resistance down with a coo. Your gaze only magnetises towards his face and your thoughts fade away as you bask in the full attention from the Avatar of Lust. Only an afterthought stayed in your head, something that sounds suspiciously like a warning bell.

Solomon could tell you didn’t like him. Maybe dislike was too strong of a word, but you certainly weren’t pleased to be around him. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Whenever he was around in your vicinity, you always made an excuse to disappear on him.

He didn’t get it. Weren’t humans like you and him supposed to stick together? He found it amusing and a little audacious that you much preferred the company of a demon over him. He supposed that humans nowadays are much more interesting than he had given credit for previously.

The very first time he met you, he could see the reflection of his younger self staring back at him, the expression on your face so painfully human that it had lit a fire in the dark crevices in his heart. The more he interacted with you, the more he wanted to bury himself in every nook and cranny and explore every part of you. Thus, he tries very hard to set himself up to be a trustworthy and reliable character that you can rely on.

Yet, you had deviated from his grand plan and chose to instead find comfort in the brothers. He didn’t understand why. Wasn’t he trying enough? And when he found out that you had done something that he was unable to do – making a pact with the Seven Rulers of Hell, gaining their trust and even becoming their family, he couldn’t help the selfish desire to know more.

Solomon had lived a very long life and this was far from the first time that someone had caught his interest, but something was different this time. You were an enigma that he wanted to unravel. The burning air in his lungs as he exhaled whenever he was around you tells him so.

He knows it’s fairly evident that he’s selfish and he wants to ruin you. You’re a blank canvas, covered in sin, the honeyed allure of your pact marks drips down your back and marks your descent to hell. The sin sings to him, and he wants to watch the honey trickle through his fingers.

Solomon wonders just exactly what about you intrigues him. It plagues him throughout the day, in his waking moments all the way to when he is in bed. These days, he just couldn’t seem to remember the faces of the people who he had once taken interest in.

He wonders if the taste of you is as sweet as he had imagined.

You bristle lightly at Solomon’s laugh, the sound seeming delicately deceitful falling from his mouth.

Damn it, Asmo. You scowled softly as the Avatar of Lust’s pout popped up again in your mind. If it wasn’t for the promise that Asmodeus had coerced you into making, you would have already made an excuse to leave. Solomon is unsettling and you already feel discomforted by having to be in his presence much less spending a full day with him.

Yet, Solomon was nice. Unnervingly nice to you. This only made the case of him even more puzzling to you. You supposed the reason why you were so on guard around him was because you couldn’t get a read on him.

Why does he seem inhuman to you? What are his goals? Why, and why on earth is he so curious about you?

You felt vaguely disconcerted in this warm atmosphere, apprehensively glancing around to take in the establishment from where you were seated in the corner booth that the sorcerer had chosen.

A flash of the cafe light falls down the curve of Solomon’s face and you begrudgingly admit that he was sort of pretty, in a sick and twisted way. You sort of want to gag at that admission. In this view, he looks less like the demon you have made him out to be and more like the human that Diavolo had introduced him to be.

A shiver ran down your back as you desperately dug your nails into the palm of your hand to try and starve off the nervousness that you must be sure is rolling off in waves around you.

“So… how are you coping in the Devildom?” Solomon suddenly asks cheerily. You almost jump out of your skin to hiss at him, despite it being your fault for being so over in your head.

His expression twitches into a frown as the silence continues to extend, voicing your displeasure at the sound of him speaking. Unluckily, he waits for you to answer instead of disappearing from your sight. The itchy urge to talk builds up and finally, you bit out some pleasantries as you nursed a cup of coffee that has now gone cold during your silent wage of war against the sorcerer.

There’s a hint of shiftiness in the set of Solomon’s mouth, and it irks you to no end. You straighten up with a sniff, thoughts running wild with all the despicable and borderline criminal things you want to do to wipe that irritating smile off him.

“I saw a cat on the way here.” Solomon abruptly announced as he picked up a napkin to wipe at his mouth while offering you the other piece that he had kept at his end of the table. You ignored his outstretched arm, as you raise your gaze from your cup to stare at him.

“Cat?” You repeated, perplexed by his revelation. You hadn’t taken him to be an animal person – you would have believed him if he told you that he was luring cats into his dungeon instead to use as sacrifices. And why was he telling you this? You were convinced that he must have found out from someone that you had a soft spot for strays.

His eyes brighten as he latches onto your response. You watch warily as he digs through his multiple coat pockets to bring out his D.D.D, fingers moving dexterously across the screen to pull up something.

“Her name is Coffee.” He offers as an additional piece of trinket that he waved in front of your face. You suppress the urge to hurl and gingerly take his D.D.D to peer at the picture closer. It was a horrible photo. Unfocused and blurry, you could only see a vague resemblance of a brown creature at the edge of the screen.

“Do you want to see-”

“No.” You quickly cut him off, anticipating the end of his sentence. You did not want to spend more time than necessary with him, and you already had plans with Levi for an anime watch party back at the House of Lamentation.

You vowed to yourself that you would never spend time with the sorcerer alone again.

“Isn’t she cute?”

You look down at the fluffy lump at your feet, squinting at the sorcerer who is currently petting the brown cat. Unfortunately, you had to acknowledge that the sight was rather cute and you had to fend off the urge to take a memento from your perspective.

“...Yes.” You similarly squatted down to start scratching the cat under her chin. It’s beside the point, that yes, you had lamented at the thought of spending more time with Solomon but here you are, knocking knees with him in a picture of domestic bliss with some stupid stray that he had seen on the street.

In some sort of incredulousness at your situation, you paused in your movement in petting the cat as your mouth opened. And before any sense of self-preservation could kick you in the face, you blurted out, “Why do you keep trying to get close to me?”

Solomon pulls his hand away from the cat as if he were burnt – shifting his weight to face you as you backed away from his gaze until you hit the wall behind you. “Am I not allowed to?” Your face scrunches up into one of confusion and you could see it mirrored back on his stupid pretty face.

A few moments of silence stretched out between the two of you as you floundered for a response. “Do you not want me to talk to you?” Solomon repeats, and in the corner of your eyes, you faintly register the furry brown creature yawning and stretching out behind him.

He looks at the wall behind you, giving you time to think. You bit your bottom lip as the full intensity of his gaze falls back on you, making you wish that the ground could open up and swallow you whole. “I don’t know.” You finally admitted as your face burns with the unadulterated idiocy of your statement.

“Have I done something to you?” He questions distantly, a far-away look in his eyes. He looks at you with something akin to uncertainty, and he shuffles a step back to give you space. This time, you forced yourself to deliberate slowly before you could bark out something stupid again.

“No.” Your voice was strained as you answered, “No, you did nothing to me.” This time, the awkwardness was palpable in the air and you could almost feel the guilt start to set into you with that awful feeling as if you had stepped on a puppy’s tail and it was now whining for help.

In silence, Solomon stood up while dusting the front of his black slacks which were littered full of cat fur. On a regular day, you would have taken this chance to shove this image into the corner of your mind that you reach for when you need something to laugh at. But now, you kept your downward gaze on his loafers as you are once again reminded of the fact that you had caused this situation and why, oh why, did you not shut the hell up when you had the chance to.

“Do you hate me?” His voice, full of doubt, cuts through your self-depreciation haze and you immediately cringed at the almost-near truth. Your hands immediately flew up to grab onto the fabric of his pants, as you paused to give yourself the chance to come up with some justification.

“N-no!” Even you could tell that your tone wasn’t convincing in the least and you could also see that Solomon doesn’t believe you either, “It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” You glanced to the side, face pained as you wrangled the apology out from your throat. Another minute passes and you force yourself to look at Solomon, giving your best impression of a wounded puppy, in hopes that he would actually accept your invitation of a peace offering.

He frowns down at you instead, “I don’t understand why you dislike me, especially considering we are the only two humans here,” He admits, and that actually sent a pang of guilt straight to your heart. “I was hoping to get to know you better so we could rely on each other.” His voice had shifted to a softer, sadder tone and it made you writhe in discomfort.

You groaned, letting go of his pants in favour of shoving a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, okay! I know I’m messed up for disliking you without a reason, but you’re just… so weird!” This time, you fully stood up with your lips pressed together into a straight line as you once again avoided looking at him.

“Are you trying to apologise or insult me?” He said sourly, brows pinched together as if he had smelt something bad. When you turned to look at him, he had his arms folded across the front of his chest with one hand brought up to his chin.

“It’s unfair for me to feel this way, I know! I’ll fix it okay, I’m seriously really sorry for judging you,” You winced, before hurriedly adding on, “I’ll pay for the next outing! Don’t be mad at me, I know I was wrong,” Your plea trailed off into a mumble as you fixed him with a hopeful gaze.

You held your breath as another few seconds passed before you heard him sigh, “Apology accepted, next time don’t avoid me and just… talk to me okay?” Solomon brings his knuckle up to knock on the side of your head, ignoring your insulted gasp. “Do you want to see another stray?”

You nod animatedly in agreement, desperate to make up for your misgivings. You peered past him only to realise that the brown cat you had initially come here for, had long disappeared into the dark alley behind Solomon.

As you tried to walk past him, the sorcerer stared at you with an unreadable smile and offered his hand for you to hold. For some reason, your heart started to beat faster and you couldn’t help but question yourself.

This was the right thing to do, right?

Solomon almost wants to laugh. He certainly didn’t think that you would bring this up by yourself. He had long crafted a plan to get closer to you but surprisingly, you had flipped that metaphorical table upside down and started playing fetch instead.

He hummed. You really were interesting, and that made him crave you even more. Whatever he has with you – It’s not nearly enough to curb his curiosity. He wants to breathe you in and learn exactly what makes you tick.

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally learn why exactly you intrigued him so much.

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a/n▸ i was too ambitious writing this without a plan and now im tired. (note to self to have an outline before writing anything concrete 🫠)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me mc #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #solomon #om solomon #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus #om asmodeus

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littlespace-imagines · 1 year

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Imagine Monster Daddies >_>

(Super short blurbs, Cg!Monster x little!reader)

A Vampire daddy who loves lulling his little one to sleep because he adores watching them and holding them close.

A Orc Daddy who loves nothing more than having his little one held close.

A werewolf Daddy who’s heart melts everytime his little loves seeing his wolf form.

A Demon Daddy using his powers to give his little one the best dreams ever.

I’ve fr had so much monster brain rot lately… I’ve been making some OCs for some fanfiction >_> feel free to add more :)

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s-4pphics · 5 months

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moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest.

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny.

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw.

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences.

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor.

“Rise.”

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands.

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.”

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding.

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.”

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.”

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…”

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen.

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.”

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders.

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate.

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.”

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame.

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.”

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.”

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe.

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.”

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart.

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal.

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…”

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer.

“Child.”

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below.

“Someone’s special.”

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge.

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement.

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one.

“Why do you worry, Child?”

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.”

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns.

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly.

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch.

“Why have you brought me here?”

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock.

“Do you know your history, Hunter?”

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?”

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.”

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.”

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive.

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers.

“What.”

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!”

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground.

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…”

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing against her nose.

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference.

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.”

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow.

No one comes.

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature.

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness.

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out.

Your path is blind, but your end is near.

All fingers point at you.

The greatest form of betrayal.

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch.

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter.

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?”

Ellie scoffs at the pester.

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy.

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The raven-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels.

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.”

“Who am I to complain?”

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers.

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?��

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear.

“Our little flower is on the loose.”

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.”

“Where.” Ellie presses.

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk.

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards.

“Absolutely.”

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #vampire!ellie #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams angst

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harleehazbinfics · 7 months

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Mine, all mine.

a lucifer x reader fanfiction.

inspired by this ask: link

wc: 1728

warning: suggestive themes!!

a/n: sometimes i wish i could just give the program my brain and let it write itself. my ass is not suited for writing at extensive periods of time in one sitting.

You were a sinner, made to rot in hell for all of eternity until exorcist end your miserable souls. However, you refused to lead that fate. You disliked how other demons would underestimate you just because of how weak and fragile you looked, especially with your wings. So, you improvised, you took this to your advantage, eventually one-by-one overlords toppled over from your powers, becoming your servants or souls you feasted on. You never sought to purge sinners or become an overlord in the process for that matter, it was just that you heavily disliked being underestimated by these narcissistic souls, that you couldn’t help but put them in their place.

After decades of doing the same thing over and over again, you decided you wanted something different to do, other than manipulating and devouring retched souls all the time. With Alastor’s recommendation, you find yourself in Hell’s Hazbin Hotel, a hotel that aims to rehabilitate sinners and help them go to heaven. You didn’t oppose to the idea and if there would be sinners that find this their calling, then you’d like to support them in their endeavors, unlike your pal Alastor. Besides, it would be a free meal if some jackass just wanted to stir up some trouble with both of you around.

So, that’s what you led you here to this moment.

“—and this is (y/n), our other host, they’ve been helping with the hotel just a few months ago, despite being a busy overlord and all,” Charlie introduces you to each other.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the King of Hell himself. How do you do, my lord?” you greet with a polite smile after dipping your head in acknowledgement.

However, everything flew past Lucifer’s head when he saw your figure. You had a pleasant aura with an angelic face paired with bright beautiful wings that had him thrown in a loop. You had a kind and gentle gaze, lips a luscious shade of pink and cheeks full of life. You were simply ethereal—you didn’t look like you were from hell. You perfectly fit the standard for heaven’s angels and their winners.

“Uhh, dad?”

“Yeah, huh?!” Lucifer startles awake from his daydreaming and pays attention to his daughter. Finally realizing he was on a balcony with Charlie and Vaggie, a long way from where he was lost in thought.

“So, what do you think?” Charlie asks expectantly holding her hands together.

“Uh, yeah yeah. They look great. Say, who was that little friend you had there down there, are they also an angel?” he asks straightforwardly with a finnicky undertone.

“What? (Y/n)? No, they’re an overlord here in hell and our host. Didn’t I already say that?” Charlie replied starting to get annoyed with her dad.

“Oh, I see. They were just very beautiful looking, especially with those wings. I almost certainly thought they were an angel,” he rambles.

Vaggie and Charlie look at Lucifer stunned as Charlie starts, “What? Are you--? No, wait, dad we’re getting sidetracked. I meant the hotel! What do you think of it?!”

Then Lucifer goes on a tangent on how sinners could never be redeemed, and that they were vicious people who misused the gift that he gave them leading them here in hell. Before Charlie could fully give on getting her cause across to her father, a crash interrupts them.

They teleport downstairs and see a bunch of loan sharks barging their way into the hotel.

“Everyone! Get somewhere safe! I’ll handle this,” Vaggie yells readying her spear.

“No, my dear, leave it to me. It's time I remind everyone why I am here,” Alastor announces transforming into his demon form.

You chuckle unfurling your wings flying close to him, “Don’t forget about me.”

Lucifer ultimately shuts his mouth as he watches you dive headfirst towards one of the sharks stretching your hand out to grab their faces. You slam him roughly on the ground as his strength drains from his body. The longer you placed your hand on him the more his body crumples and dries, slowly wilting away from your touch. Leaving behind a red pulsing orb, you unhinge your jaw wrapping your tongue around it before swallowing it whole.

Lucifer’s stomach drops to his feet from the realization of his misconception of you, but he undoubtedly receives a hard-on as he can’t help but sexualize your actions. Wondering how it would feel wrapped around your long tongue and enveloped by your lips as you swallowed all of him.

He smacks himself across the face to rid himself of his thoughts and fixes his eyes on you and Alastor finishing up your massacre and dusting yourselves off. As he sees you both banter playfully, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his irritation for the male and comment towards Charlie.

“Mhm, you see? What'd I tell you? Charlie, sinners are violent psychopaths, hell bent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There's really no point in trying.”

She angrily huffs and yells at him, “Dad! Stop! He's defending this hotel! It may be a bit more sadistic than I'd hoped, but he's doing it for me! How come he can have faith in me, but my own father can't?”

His face crumples as he realizes his mistake. Here was his daughter trying to realize her dreams but couldn’t even support her ideas and aspirations. He was no better than those elders that shunned him away for his dreams. He finally comes clean to Charlie and apologizes to her. Finally supporting her dream and agreed on setting up the meeting for her.

But before he teleports away, he glances at you which you only responded with a light smile and nodded your head at him appreciating his help. He couldn’t help but be expectant of the next time you’ll meet again. He wished that Charlie would give him a call again soon.

The next time you met was when the angels attacked the residents of the hotel. When the matter was settled, all of you—including the help you gathered from Cannibal Town, celebrated your win in the now more spacious hotel.

While the lot of them gathered sharing drinks on one side, he saw you by yourself on the other side. He stands next to you with a grin, tapping your shoulder and asks, “This seat taken?”

You get startled from his action unfamiliar with people touching you so casually and give a flustered answer, “N-no! Please have a seat.”

He chuckles as he sits next to you, noticing how you scooted a little further away from him. He feels saddened when he was trying to be close to you, but you pull yourself away from him. He couldn’t help but comment, “You don’t need to be so distant. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

You give him a smile and wrap your hands around your drink before answering, “Sorry. I’m just not used to people trying to come close to me at this distance, with my powers and all.”

He tilts his head cutely making you giggle and continue, “I guess Charlie didn’t tell you. I have the powers to drain demon’s powers. The longer I touch ‘em they die, and their soul becomes mine.”

He lets out a sound of understanding and mutters, “So that’s what that was.”

You look at him with you chin on your hand on the counter looking at him in interest. “Have you been watching me, your majesty?” you couldn’t help but tease.

You were not disappointed as you watch his face turn red as he fumbled with his drink while he tries to reply, “W-well, I couldn’t help but admire how strong you were. Either in a fight or just casually talking to you, you just seem to be so confident that I can’t help but keep my eyes on you.”

“You’re beautiful,” he finishes with a dreamy sigh.

“Are you hitting on me?” you ask complemented with a seductive smile.

His breath hitches as he realizes what he did, as he panics trying to save himself, “I mean! Please don’t take this the wrong way! I was just admiring— whoops!”

He accidentally drops his drink in his flustered state, with both of your fast reflexes you caught the glass together. His hand covering yours, he tilts his head not noticing anything different with himself as he holds you.

Meanwhile, you hastily place the cup down on the counter and fretted over him, “Are you alright? Are you unwell anywhere?”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t feel much different actually,” he says looking at his hands.

You sigh in relief not expecting this man to throw you off your loop. You’re so composed all the time that having this man in your proximity just destroys your braincells with how cute and charming he was.

“Actually, can we do that again?” he asks with a serious look, to which you hesitantly accepted locking your hands together for a while. As time passes on without much progress to his experiment, the more your cheeks turn into a bright shade of red that he finally catches on to.

“What’s go you so flustered all of a sudden, angel?” he teases squeezing your hand a few times egging you on.

You cover your cheeks with your other hand and tightly held his hand to make him stop, “I’ve never held hands with someone before.”

He smirks inching closer to your face, feeling his breath on you as he tried to memorize every part of you with half-lidded eyes, “Never been this close with a handsome bloke before?”

You stand from your seat, evidently towering over him from the sheer height difference then caging him in his both of his hands above him as you pinned him to a wall behind him.

“Never. Would you like to change that?” you whispered by his ear, earning a shudder from him.

“Bet,” he grins letting his forked tongue slither out of his mouth introducing itself to you while letting himself loose and held your waist. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

As the two of you disappeared from the group’s sights, Angel drunkenly yells, “OH, SHIT! LUCIFER’S GETTING SOME ASS TONIGHT!”

“Ewwww,” Charlie cries in disgust not welcoming the thought of his father fucking someone in her brain.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #alastor #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer

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hakugin0 · 5 months

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[ Leviathan/MC fankids ]

These kids have managed to singlehandedly brain rot me so hard it's not even a joke anymore. Look at my granddaughter and grandson and forgive me for how annoying I will be about the in the near future BUT HOW COULD I NOT LOVE THEM 😭💞 in shambles, on the floor, losing it (extra infor under cut

Heritors of Envy aka Levi/MC children, they both have human and demon names (express request of their mother)

Viola 'Vinea'

First Daughter all around

The 'proper' heir, though with how long demons live who even knows

About 80% Levi, stoic, beautiful and obsessed with being perceived as perfect (certain nobles fear their jobs prospects since she started helping)

As a child told one of the Nobles she would marry him when she's big if he takes his job (place bets on who it was); said demon was not strangled on the spot only because he was holding her

Doesn't have a coffin per se, her contract with an eldritch monster is a bit special

Ran 'Raum'

Levi's second child but 3rd(technically 4th) all around

Disinterested in the throne, would rather be Hades' adorable mascot to be dotted and fawned on

Doesn't mean he's not as scheming and intelligent as his sister, if not more

Adorable and he knows it, needs everyone to love and adore him and will stop at nothing (he does pick fights with Orias about who's cuter): he can be slightly clingy but knows when to do it and when not to

Does not yet have a coffin, but he's mildly clairvoyant so he knows which creature will eventually answer him

President of the 'monopolize mom's attention' association that MC's children have jointly formed against their fathers

#haku rambles #my art #haku2024 #whb mc #whb oc #whb #whb envy kids #haku gremlins

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lqveharrington · 6 months

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Is It Over Now? | V.

summary: Alastor coming back after a seven year absence revealed what was underneath your 10 year relationship with Vox.

pairing: vox x wife!reader

includes: VERY MANIPULATIVE VOX, cursing (duh), toxic behavior, alastor not realizing he’s a home wrecker, Vel and Val being somewhat decent, (let me know if i missed any !!)

a/n: i’m on major hazbin hotel brain rot 🤷‍♀️

You were seething by the end of the extermination. All Vox would talk about was Alastor. It seemed like for the past six months all he could talk about was the Radio Demon. You were fine for about five months of it, but you started to realize it took a toll on you as well.

You were fine when Vox missed your wedding anniversary because he found out Alastor was back. You were fine when Vox missed your fashion week shows for Velvette. You were fine when he missed your birthday. But forgetting your past as extermination was coming up? Forgetting how you would break down every day before the extermination? You were done putting up with his actions.

“Doll, where are you going?” Vox slipped an arm around your waist, oblivious to the faces Velvette and Valentino made. “We’re celebrating here.”

“You’re celebrating.” You pulled away from him, walking up the stairs to your shared suite with Vox. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait, what?” Vox whipped his head over to you, slightly glitching. “What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked but you were already up the stairs, causing him to use the electricity to summon himself to your shared room. “Doll, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You push past him, grabbing your already packed suitcase. “Everything that happened in the last six months is wrong.”

He pulled you by your bicep, claws slightly digging into your skin. “Everything has been the same—“

“No, they haven’t.” You frown, trying to pull yourself out of his hold. “All you’ve been talking about is Alastor. But what about me?”

Vox scoffed, “What about you? I’m with you every fucking day!”

“You’re never with me, Vox!” Your eyes flash red, your free hand emitting red wisps. “Do you know how many anniversaries and dates you missed? Do you know how my days have been going?”

He stayed quiet but felt the rage bubbling up in him.

“You missed our wedding anniversary!” You glare at the ring on the hand holding onto you. “You missed all my shows, you missed my birthday—“

“I didn’t forget them.” He pressed his claws harder into your arm which made you wince. “You should’ve reminded me.”

“I wanted to! But you were so busy that I would just make you even more upset!” You bite your tongue. “Even Velvette and Valentino greeted me with happy anniversaries and a happy birthday. And where were you?” You practically shouted at him. “You were busy picking a fight with the demon who was the best man at our wedding!”

Vox’s eye swirled black and red, “Nothing is ever my fucking fault. You’re the one who wasn’t there for me!”

You flicked your hand which removed his hand from your arm, claws indented on your skin. “Bullshit. I was there every step of the way! I constantly have forgiven and forgiven, but you just keep hurting me!” Your pent-up stress and anger came out as your full demon form as tears welled from your eyes. “You were the one who wasn’t there for me! I cried to Velvette when I started retaining dreams of exorcists killing my family! I begged Valentino to not tell you that you missed any of our anniversaries! You haven’t cared for me since Alastor came back! I’m not playing this game anymore.”

“Where are you going?” He snapped his fingers, locking the doors and shutting the building down. No power was on, which meant everything was locked despite the missing locks. “I doubt anyone would be out during the day of the extermination.”

You paused but kept your composure as you remembered the only demons out. “Yeah, but the hotel is being rebuilt as we speak.”

Vox glitched again, “You are not going over to that shitty hotel.”

“I think I'll be fine since you keep forgetting about me anyway.” You shove him aside. “Unlock the doors, Vox.”

“Doll,” He let out a sigh, watching your every move. “I’m not unlocking the doors.”

“Why the fuck not?” You turn around, tears streaming down your face. “You’ve hurt me too many times! What am I supposed to do when you're too busy with Alastor that there’s no more time for me? Vel was the one who calmed me down this week!” You took a breath and looked up at the ceiling, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Vox put up years ago. “I can’t pretend like we’re fine anymore.”

“Then don’t pretend, tell me.” He smoothed his claws on the arm he previously maimed, the silver wedding band cold against your skin. “When was the last time we fought like this? You were the one to tell me to talk things through.”

You bit your lip, wiping a tear. “I know, but it’s been a constant. Every day all you talk about is Alastor. When have we ever had time for ourselves in the past six months?”

Silence fills the room as no one dares to speak. Your quiet sniffles and Vox’s whirring are the only things keeping the room from being completely silent. Vox continued to rub the marks on your arm, trying to meet your eyes.

“Can you look at me?” He tapped your arm, earning a hum of acknowledgment. “Doll, look at me.” You shifted your gaze toward him, meeting his red eyes. He let a small smile slip, “Hi, gorgeous.”

You roll your eyes, “Yes?”

“Listen, if you want to leave…” He hesitated for a bit before snapping his fingers. “You have the choice to, but not the hotel. Just come back and let me make it up to you, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered between his eyes, the red streaks from his mouth becoming more prominent when you didn’t reply.

He took his free hand and ran a claw down your cheek, making you shiver from the contact. “You could easily take me down and leave. So why not?”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, letting him pull you into him. “I’m sorry.”

Vox grinned sinfully as one of his red eyes turned hypnotic again. He stroked your back, “It’s okay, you’re alright.” The blue chain connecting your wedding rings appeared. The same one that solidified your marriage in Hell. “How about we just stay here? We’ll relax and talk, okay?”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bed. “I didn’t want to yell.”

“I know, you’re okay.” He set you down on his lap, stroking your cheek once more before tilting your chin up with a singular claw. “You know I love you, right?”

You let a sad smile slip through and peck the corner of his screen. “I love you too.”

Vox pulled you into him again, red streaks appearing down the side of his screen for the last time. “Good.”

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adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months

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hiii!! how are you? god, it's my first time requesting and I'm super awkward but I've been kinda having this dark mc brain rot! what would the love and Deepspace boys do with a secret gambler mc who's just like yumeko jabami? that'd be so interesting! feel free to ignore this ask if that makes you uncomfortable and have a nice day!

🎲 LND Scenarios with Dark Gambler!MC

🎲 Synopsis: Love and Deepspace men dealing with their dark gambler partner's eccentrics.

🎲 Pairing: LND x GN!Reader

🎲 Content Warning: sexual undertones, mild humor, no pronouns/looks mentioned (Jabami is for the aesthetic), Zayne is the only one vibing, there's no mercy in kitty cards!

🎲 A/N: Thanks for letting me take a crack at your request. I never watched Kakeguri but I think I got the vibe! I did tone the behavior down a little to fit LND more but I think you'll be satisfied. Zayne's part turned into my favorite even though I had the hardest time thinking of a scene for him!

“Let me have a turn.”

Xavier shudders at the dark aura he senses behind him despite the sweet smile plastered on your face. It’s almost like seeing a demon reflecting in the glass of the claw machine but in the form of an angel. He knew it was a bad idea to come to the arcade. He was no good at the machine no matter how much he tried and the nearly empty bowl where his tokens once laid was the proof.

“It’s alright. I didn’t think I could get it anyway. I’m not really good at this game.”

You frown at him. “It’s not you, love. These games are designed to cheat people out their money. It's disgusting really.”

Xavier gulps at that word. Cheat. If there was one thing you hated in this world, it was unfairness. The crooked smile forming on your face forces him to return eye contact with the special edition bunny plush he’s failed to get time and time again. Somehow, he sees fear in its eyes.

“I’ll get it for you.” Your hand reaches into the coin bowl; each clink makes his throat tighten as you finally pull out one of the coins between your fingers. “That bunny will be coming home with us.”

Xavier knows there’s little he can do when you sound that determined. Luckily, you won the bunny in two attempts.

“Ta-da! A fluffy bunny for my fluffy bunny.”

A sense of relief washes over him when the round rabbit hits his hands. Maybe he was being overly paranoid. However, his relief is quickly buffed out by anxiety when he sees you place another coin in the machine. It’s only a few seconds before the chimes of the machine go off again. Then, you pass him another toy, a carrot this time.

“Every bunny needs a snack!” you coo, but your tone carries that familiar edge that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand. “Now, whom shall we capture next?”

To Xavier, it sounds less like a question and more like a decree of war. “I think these two are more than enough for today."

“Xavier, this game stole forty dollars from you. I’m not going to let it get away with that,” you declare, proving it was just as he feared as your voice lowers. “Now, which one do you want, dear? Oh, I know, I'll just win them all for you! How does that sound?" you ask, but Xavier is eerily aware that it won’t matter what he says when you’re like this.

“Here we go!” you mewl as the claw begins to whir up.

Ignoring the shiver that climbs up his spine when your voice drips with the venom of ecstasy, there’s little Xavier can do but take another step back, buy another bowl of coins, and hold them for you as the role of a supportive boyfriend.

It’s an hour later when he finds himself surrounded by plushies, much more than he can hold, and the fear that you’re going to get kicked out the arcade any second.

“Cleaned out again!” you announce with a shrill breathy gasp, the giggle you give reminding him of the maniacal laughter Lemonette chortles out whenever the wanderer sprays lemon juice in his eyes. “Tell the employees we need another refill.”

“We don't have enough hands to carry all the ones you already won.”

“What?” Your focus finally breaks from the game and to the many toys scattered on the floor around him, overtaking his feet, then to the worried look on his face. “I went overboard again, didn’t I?”

Xavier sighs. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“How do you suggest I do that?” he asks with a shake of his head. “You’re impossible to stop.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him innocently. “I did get you your bunny though!”

“At the cost of the poor arcade owner’s precious sanity,” he reminds you but the smile on his face is less than scolding when he sees the guilty sulk you have and the lax of your shoulders. “Let’s find a donation center to drop these little guys off. We’ll count it as our good deed for the month.”

“Good idea! How about we surprise all the kids at the hospital?” you agree. Xavier chuckles. There’s the angel again.

“Pretty please, Rafayel!”

The painter rolls his eyes, scooting further away from you to find a different spot on the floor to sit as you crawl after him. Rafayel turns his head away and strokes his paintbrush down the center of his canvas.

“No. Now, go away. Shoo. Shoo, go paw at someone else,” he says, waving the wet paintbrush at you.

“But no one else will play with me,” you whine.

“I wonder why?”

You are terrifying when you play kitty cards. Unfortunately, he was once the only one foolish enough to play with you because he wasn’t aware of how you got when you gambled even when the winnings were only a few pieces of chocolate. He knows better now. Despite your cute precious face, you were evil incarnate when it came to games.

“Surely, you pity me my dear sweet, gorgeous boyfriend. Did I forget to mention talented?” You give him the puppy eyes to try to wear down his resolve; your hand glides over his bangs, lovingly pushing them from his face. As much as he loves trying to make you happy, this is one of the few things in the world that he refuses to listen to you about.

“As true as all of that may be, I prefer living thanks,” he says before switching brushes to another color. A splash of blue would be excellent.

“Is this about last time?” you ask him. “It was an accident.”

“You nearly broke my hand!”

“You were trying to swap the kitties!” you yell back. Rafayel was a no-good cheater when it came to playing games and not the least bit sorry about it. It’s not your fault that you grabbed his hand by reflex nor that he was so dramatic about it.

“So, the sentence is hand breaking? That's cruel and unusual punishment!” he says with a gasp.

"Is it wrong to take away your tool for cheating?"

“Have you forgotten what I do for a living? You might as well lay me out in the sun to dry.”

Sighing, you decide to agree with him. You suppose you could be a little competitive when it came to games. Besides, they say it’s easier to catch more flies with honey. “Look, I’m sorry, baby,” you apologize and smooth out a hand over his thigh. “How about I give you a super special prize if you win.”

Rafayel barely looks at you from the corner of his eyes that slowly drop to where your hand rests on his leg. You’re on your hands and knees next to him, perched up like a cat begging to be petted.

“I’m listening,” he says, continuing to mix his paints. Purring, you lean in and whisper in his ear the prizes you’re willing to trade for him to play one little round with you.

His heart races with each word. It’s suddenly becoming harder to keep the stroke of the brush straight when your hand starts to trail further and further up his thigh. “Well, when you put it that way—” and he almost gives in until he sees the corner of your lips curling up into a smirk. “Wait. No. I refuse.”

“Not even if—” and you whisper in his ear again. He swears the brush handle will splinter if he grips it any tighter. His face is glowing a light red by the time you pull away. He might be Lumerian but he’s still a man; it’s difficult to bury the memories of pleasure under the memories of his fingers squeezing in your hard grip the last time you caught him cheating. He manages, somehow.

“How easy do you think I am? I’m not open for business whenever you want, darling.” He manages to spat out, not exactly the best rejection but it’ll suffice.

You puff up your cheeks at him. “You’re the meanest boyfriend ever!”

“And you’re evil when a card gets in your hand,” he argues back. The last thing he sees is the red of your shirt as you pounce on him and blue paint spilling across the floor.

“You’re so nice, Zayne. You’re the only one who's brave enough to play against me.”

Zayne glances up from the stack of cards in his hands to catch your tongue glancing over your lips to wet them as you stare him down with dilated eyes. He expected you to get worked up but not quite this early into the game.

“I had the free time today.”

The real reason he schedules these regular games with you is to keep your strange habit under control, like providing a little bit of a drug to an addict; or in simpler terms, walking an overly energetic Husky so it won’t tear up the furniture. It beats the many times you ring him up at two in the morning, needing him to come rescue you out of a tough situation. He knows you’ll never learn your lesson with him always swooping in when needed, but he can’t stand the possibility of you getting hurt should he not come to your rescue every time you over bet your hand and need him to win back your money for you. The doctor never really expected to be a poker or kitty card expert at this age but alas.

“I’m guessing there’s at least one Kitty Plot in your hand, am I right?” you ask him; and he doesn’t understand how you sound more excited each time he obtains another assist card.

“And if I told you there was?”

The giggle you let out sounds much too vulgar for a simple game of kitty cards, but he’s used to this eccentricity of yours at this point. “Then that means I get to beat you even when you’re at your best!”

You slap down a Freeze card and Skip card. There’s not much he can do other than draw his assist card and ride out your next turn. In the next phase, you throw out another assist card, one that will allow you to restock your empty number stockpile and seal your victory.

“Any last words?” you ask him. He can see that you’re starting to twitch with the excitement that comes from besting him. It’s the most dramatic thing he’s seen, but he’d be a liar to say it wasn’t…satisfying…to watch your face fill with shock as he blocks your finishing move with a Meow This. Maybe you were rubbing off on him after all, he muses.

“You held on to that all this time?” you ask him, recalling the many chances he could’ve blocked your earlier plays. You were aware he was luring you into a trap by playing the slow game, but you thought you could get around it this time. With a dreamy sigh, you cup your cheek in your hand. “I should’ve known. Just careless.”

“Any last words?” he asks, mocking your earlier victory line.

“None I’m afraid. I’m completely at your mercy; helpless in the face of your onslaught,” you tell him, and he ignores the little tilt of seduction lacing your voice and the squirming of your thighs as he starts erasing every point you’ve earned.

Slowly, your points decrease one by one as he throws out assist after assist while you let out little whimpers and mutter compliments under your breath with each cup color change and point reducer he throws out.

You’re going to lose! Again! He’s incredible as always.

But you’re offered deliverance when instead of erasing the six points of your blue kitty the cup color changes to match it. You hear Zayne “tch” under his breath, and you can’t help but laugh when he finally has to give up and fill the last white kitty cup with a pathetic low-level kitten.

In the end, you only won by two points but that was all you needed.

“I won…I won!” you repeat, rocking back and forth as you hug yourself and toss your head back. “I finally beat you! You won’t believe how long I waited for this day! Now what should my prize be?” You fall back onto the floor, kicking your feet. “It’s so hard to decide. I honestly didn’t think this day would come! There are so many things I’ve dreamed of making you do for me!”

Zayne presses his lips into a thin line as he begins to collect the kittens from the cup. “Calm down. You’re drooling on the carpet,” he exaggerates, not that you're in the right mind to listen.

“I got it. I know just what I want,” you squeal, holding your finger in your mouth to muffle your laughs. Zayne tenses when you sit up, much like a vampire from a horror movie, and lock eyes with him; he doesn’t think he’s felt so targeted since his days in the military.

“Meow for me, Zayne,” you demand, and his face burns at the ridiculousness of your request.

“You—”

“Are you backing out? That’s poor sportsmanship especially considering I took every nasty medicine each time you won.”

Zayne shakes his head. “No. I was simply thinking that’s surprisingly tame for you.”

You lift your eyebrows curiously. “So, does that mean?”

Zayne leans in over the table. In this position, he can see how your face softens from that lust-filled haze that gambling always manages to place over you. He doesn’t know if you can actually get embarrassed, but you certainly look flustered as he locks eyes with you.

“Meow.”

“Oh,” you gasp, eyes wide. “T-That was absolutely wonderful,” you blurt out with a clasp of your hands. “Do it again.”

“It was a one-time deal,” Zayne rejects before straightening his back.

“I didn’t think you would do it. One more little meow for me?” you plead. “This was a special victory, and I didn’t get to enjoy my winnings properly.”

“If you want to hear it again, I’m afraid you’ll have to beat me a second time,” he answers bluntly.

“And if you win?”

“You do what I want.”

“Which is?”

Zayne smirks at you. “All I can tell you is that I’ll ask for much more than a meow.”

“You’re on! You’re on! You’re on! What better way to solidify my position as the best kitty card player than with a streak?”

“I take it we’re playing on Hell Mode then.”

“What do you mean? It’s always heaven playing against you, Zayne. You’re the only one who can give an actual challenge,” you sweetly coo, nearly a moan. “Unfortunately, your reign will officially be coming to an end. I’m going to beat you without luck; and when I do, I think I’ll make you meow and purr for my reward.”

“Hurry and restart the match then if you believe that.”

Zayne watches as you excitedly set the game back up. He supposes that this type of gambling is more fun than gambling with chocolates. At least until he sees your social media message the next morning.

Guess who finally toppled the old king and became the new Ruler of Kitty Cards? I won’t name them. No one asked. It’s not polite to be a sore loser, my adorable meowing subject.

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnd x reader #notsfw #adelssmut

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intrinsicepiphany · 7 months

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Okay tumblr lets talk theories again.

(my brain rot + knowledge of religion has me all up in Hazbin Hotel right now.)

Today I want to talk Biology! Mostly because I made the poor choice of going to Twitter's chaggie tag and looking at the comments...

So can we discuss Why do so many people keep trying to apply HUMAN biology to the Half-Demon Nephillim daughter of an Arch-Angel?!

Okay I'll start at the begining and work my way to the reasons why if Charlie really wants a kid with Vaggie both of them being assigned female at creation probably isn't going to matter.

Let's start with Lucifer!

So as far as has been shown in the show Lucifer is an original Archangel even down to his lovely 6 red wings. This makes him one of the most powerful beings in heaven.

(If we go by bible text he was actually a favorite until his dreams of free will led him astray and depending on the text he merely has to admit he was wrong and ask for forgiveness to return)

Now looking at everything after this fall he has never lost his Angelic Abilities. His default powers are still angelic gold.

We do see he also has a Full Demon form when he is pissed. Interestingly enough his crown also doubles as a halo in this form. Also note for later just how much Charlie resembles him in both forms.

This suggest that at root biology Lucifer is still an archangel with demon traits. This combination is most likely what makes him the strongest being in hell by a long shot. The only reason others even have power is purely because he doesnt care enough to flex his power and has no desire to actually rule.

Now on to Lilith!

What do we know about Lilith?

Well we know she was a created human not born.

She was Adam's equal

And she left and got with Lucifer before the fall.

So here is the deal... I dont think Lilith can be classified as a sinner. She didnt die to end up in hell and in fact she fell before hell was really a thing. she helped create it after all. (Plus you know Charlie exsists)

So what IS Lilith? I think Lilith as one of a few Actual Demons. And if we have to classify her she'd be closer to a Sin. I actually think of Lilith as the Sin of Pride in Hazbin Hotel not Lucifer. We are even told that She created pentagram city and developed hell while lucifer kept to his workshop in depression.

Now let's talk about this scene for a second. Lilith fell from heaven/earth Alive and possibly even immortal since human kind was immortal before Eve took the apple.

Lilith gains power from her fall into hell. She develops demon like attributes and seems to have musical based magic. She also seems to retain or get immortality. So what does this fall mean? It means that Lilith was NOT HUMAN by the time Charlie was born.

So what does this mean for Charlie?

Well for one Charlie is NOT just some Hellborn. She is by Definition a Nephilim but she is not half-human. She would most likely be considered a Half-Demon, Half-Angel Nephilim.

This would explain her expansive (if never used) power base. The official power ranking has her tied with Lilith with only Lucifer being more powerful. Which makes complete sense. She is the Heir to the entire thing after all. (I actually think this is why Alastor couldnt make a deal for her soul and settled for a favor instead)

She also inheirited Angelic powers from her father. As seen by the fact that her default magic is gold. Which means she has angel blood in her veins. Lets be honest i wouldnt be surprised if she ended up bleeding gold in the future.

In fact she seems to have inherited most of her abilities from dear old dad.

Im pretty sure that just by shear ability and magic if Charlie wanted a kid she could probably create/magic one into exsistance no matter who her partner was.

But lets review Vaggie just for fun! Because I have thoughts

What do we actually know about Vaggie?

Well we know she is an angel. I say is because I dont think Lute or Adam actually have the power to cast an angel out of heaven AND she gets her wings back. This would mean she is not actually a sinner she would be closer to a fallen angel like lucifer.

We know she speaks Spanish and seems to be of Hispanic nature. BUT! Do we know if she was ever really human?!

We know Adam claims to have named her Vaggie. This could suggest three things

1) exorcist take on a new name when they join. But if this was true why wouldnt she leave this name behind and return to her human name once in hell? It would have kept her secret better and you'd figure she would want to leave behind the negative feelings that would come with her exorcist name.

2) Adam in his self-centered ways misheard her real name (maybe something like Aggie from Agatha or Maggie) and thought she said Vaggie or actively chose to misinterpret her name and she never cared to correct him. BUT Once more why would she not just return to her real name once with Charlie in hell?

Or 3) And this one is the real kicker. Vaggie is a Heaven-born Angel.

If the answer is 3 than it would imply that she was never human which brings her closer to lucifers biology.

Some other interesting things to consider about this last theory. Lute and Vaggie resemble each other a great deal. In fact, all the exorcist seem to have a similar body type. (I mean you could argue its the uniform but even without the uniform the resembalance between lute and vaggie is uncanny) and if I remember correctly at one point the exterminators are refered to as sister? I mean this could mean sisters-in-arms BUT What if ALL exorcist were heaven-born?

If they were never human this could explain both their ability and their desire to slay sinners. Much like Sera they wouldn't have any sympathy for the dammed because they wouldn't have any possible family that could end up down there. They would also have Very little connection to or concern for former humans. After all like Adam said they had their chance and they screwed up.

So in the end what does this all mean?

Well I actually already kind of said it

1) Fandom really needs to stop applying human biology to Charlie. She is a half demon half archangel Nephilim with incredible magic.

If charlie wants a kid she can probably magic one up no matter the obsticles please stop asking artist and writers how it is possible for her and vaggie to have a kid/get pregnant if they are both women - the answer is Charlie Magic.

2) all 4 of the above have the potential to be way stronger than they have been shown in the show.

And

3) Charlie is a potential BadAss and is just too nice to go full tactical nuke - this will be covered in my next ted talk.

#hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #lilith morningstar #vaggie #chaggie

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delimeful · 1 month

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nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor.

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

#tss fic #sanders sides fic #demon slayer au #ts virgil #ts logan #my writing #writing #nitwiwd #nothing in this world i wouldnt do #thank you to everyone who was nice to me while i took my break <3 #i've got some asks i'll hopefully get around to answering soon!

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 months

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Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: we're taking a turn for the weirder, next chapter will be slightly more comfort than hurt (you know, as much as i know how to write comfort). for now, all we have is darkness and edginess. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (wow that never fking happens on this blog), Soulmates, Emotional Torture, Biting (not the sexy kind), like...a teeny tiny smidge of cannibalism.

Summary: The psychological torment of being chosen for the Devil tips over as he visits you in your sleep.

PT.1

At first, you're not aware that you're dreaming. A strange haze falls over your vision, as if you've just woken up from a devastating fever. Your limbs sway slowly, like you're treading through honey. It fascinates you, the way the light of a streetlamp flickers over your fingers, as you raise your hand. Bare feet on the concrete, your toes contract, pebbles stuck to the skin. The air feels weird on your skin, like liquid pouring over your form in an invisible cascade. It feels real enough, yet so far away.

You remember falling asleep on Bobby's guest bed, brought down by the events of the night. What were those events, you couldn't remember, but you can smell smoke swirling in your nose and your eyes are puffy with tears. You sniffle, swipe your hand across your face and feel as if by this simple gesture, your skin has been pulled like fresh taffy. Perhaps you have died in your sleep. The thought is, for some reason, incredibly funny to you, and from somewhere far away you can hear a voice, strangely similar to yours, giggle. It echoes through your skull like a church bell, and you groan at the reverberating sound.

- Crossroads? Really? - you turn around without any grace in your movement, as another voice rings out right next to you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel all the muscles in your body constric, then relax forcefully, as if some invisible strength was trying to keep you docile.

There he stands. So human, so plain, it tugs on your heart in a way you were not expecting. Lucifer. His hands clasped in front of him, red spots and abrasions decorating his skin in a grotesque display. Sick, your brain supplies, he looks sick, as if he's starting to rot where he stands, and suddenly, in this strange dream the worst possible feeling comes to surface. You pity him, truly and deeply. Normally you'd jot it down to caring for the poor man he has chosen for his temporary vessel, but here, where reality doesn't exist, you can't force yourself to entertain this lie. Your fingers flex at your sides, a need to heal, to help, pushing at them to come forward, to cradle his face like he did to yours.

God help you, you wanted to help this monster.

Then, his words register in your brain, and you finally look around.

You're in the middle of a cement road, somewhere you don't recognize, and sure enough, there is a crossroad. You haven't been to one in such a long time. Not since Dean got dragged to hell and pushed by grief, you were about to do something unbelievably stupid. You remember begging. Actually begging a demon to take your soul, to save your friend, only to be met with a cruel laughter and emptiness so profound, it nearly broke you. Shame washes through you like a sudden wave, and you try to keep some integrity by encircling your chest with your arms. It does you little to no comfort, and Lucifer cocks his head to the side, as if he's in tune with your emotions.

- Do you dream of this place often? - Lucifer asks, walking around you at a slow pace.

You don't know how to respond. Do you? Perhaps that is the case, perhaps somehow you've always had some sort of connection to the crossroads, where the most wicked of deals were made. Perhaps it was all his fault, from the very beginning. You nod, once, not trusting your own voice, and the Devil flashes you a quick smile, before his expression darkens, as if he's deeply in thought. There are prominent shadows falling over his face, his eyes sunken even more than you remember.

- I can't find you - he finally looks up at you, and your heart stops just for a second - You're invisible to me, I wonder, why is that?

Castiel, you immediately think, and you have to look away from him at the memory of your friendly neighborhood Angel carving Enochian symbols into your bones. It's almost like you can feel them, beneath your skin, beneath the muscle and the guts. Not hurting, not really. Just, there. A constant reminder, that you're hunted by a being that feels entitled to your very existence. Being, which is currently taking small steps towards you, looking over your body as if you were a piece of prime meat in a display case at a grocery store.

- You're hiding from something you cannot stop - he says, and you feel the coldness of his breath on your collarbones - It's Dad's will after all.

That, for some reason, wakes you up from your previous stupor. Shaking your head, you try to take a step back, a litany of "no's" spilling from your lips. To that, he frowns, grabs at your shoulders to keep you in place, and with a sudden wave of horror you realize, you can't move. And you want to move so badly, your body feels as if it's tearing itself in half. White fire, cold burning floods you, when his hands make contact with your skin, fingers skimming over the flesh of your arms, dragging down and down, until they grab at your wrists.

- I don't want this - there's conviction in your voice you were not expecting, because truly and deeply, you fucking hate this situation, this responsibility which has been placed upon you without your knowledge or consent.

Lucifer laughs an airy laugh.

Gently, as if you're a porcelain doll, he brings your hands closer to his face. He maneuvers your fingers, eyes watching with fascination at the way your knuckles move under your skin. The tendons, the veins, he swallows it all with a greedy gaze, and the coldness of his breath makes hairs stand at the back of your neck.

- I'm not particularly thrilled by this revelation myself - he whispers to your fingertips - I mean, isn't this insulting? To force me to care for a thing I swore to hate.

You shudder at the sudden harshness in his voice, and his hands dig further into the meat of your wrist. Reminding yourself that this is just a dream, you try to steel your nerves, focus on leveling your breathing, on freeing yourself from his grasp. It's harder than you anticipate, trying to collect any sort of self-preservation, while your mind is cradled by the smothering blanket of whatever dream-magic has been placed on you.

- But then again, I am a child of an absent father - something akin to mirth flashes through his face, and as he looks up at you, eyes gleaming with something you're too scared to decipher, you're convinced you'll never truly escape him - And such a gift... - he sighs deeply within his chest, pressing the scarred surface of his cheek to your palm - Well, who am I to deny it?

Your face twists into an expression of disgust, and with a whine, you tear yourself away, craning your body as far from him as it is willing to go. Which arguably isn't much. His grip on your body tightens, arms digging into you, as he forces a perversion of a hug onto your unwilling frame.

- I've killed for less - he whispers into your ear, and revels in the way your entire body shivers - You're really lucky, and I don't think you quite realize how much.

- I don't want to be lucky - painted nails dig into the cotton of his shirt, as you try your hardest to hurt him, force him to back up, or just react to your defiance in any other way than patronizing indifference. - I want nothing to do with you, I don't want you.

To that, he humms low in his throat, and you whimper, as cold lips descent upon the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You can't truly describe the kind of fear he brings upon you, but your entire body seems to surrender despite your best efforts at doing otherwise. Must be magic, you reason. He must've placed you under some kind of a spell, there is no other explanation.

- Don't you think you're being just a tad ungrateful? - he asks, nose dragging along your artery - I mean, here I am, ready to love you, to care for you, to accept you as the gift that you are... - he takes a long drag of your hair, savoring the scent as your knees start to buckle - And you're ready to throw it all away because, what exactly? Because I'm what my Father has made me?

- Because you're a monster, only capable of hurting others - you seethe through your teeth, and immediately get cut off, when presses your bodies tighter together, something worryingly similar to a growl resounding deep within his chest.

- Is that what you think?

You've made a mistake, immediately you can recognize that. Playing the tough guy in front of the literal Devil, while having no real idea of the supposed bond tying you both together, wasn't your smartest moment. Cold sweat forms on your forehead, when Lucifer extends his hands out, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. Then, looking at you from that small distance, he gives you a strangely bored look. Like he has seen everything you've done play out in front of him a million times, like he knows all there is to know about you.

God save you, you hate that look more than any atrocity he has committed.

- Don't look at me like that - bravery, or stupidity, you can't decide as words leave your mouth in a snarl. - You don't know anything about me.

- I know all that's important - he counters - I know God made you for me.

He takes a step closer, and suddenly you've grown very tired of this constant dance. His hands massage their way towards your shoulders, where he grips you tight and drags you towards him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest, but he straightens you out forcefully, like you're some doll he can maneuver all he likes.

- I know you're rebellious, just like me - his whisper seeps into your very being, as if you've become infected by his gentle tone - You're lonely, just like me.

You want to shake your head no, you really want to, but he keeps you frozen, enchanted by his sudden closeness, and the barely noticable note of vulnerability hidden in his grey eyes.

Sam and Dean flood your mind. Your boys, your closest friends. The times you've spent together were few and far between, but you cherish them. You truly do. Which is why, your heart breaks at the realization, that Lucifer is right. Despite the bars, and the hunts, and the long drives, you're lonely. Loneliness follows you like a shadow, too ingrained into your bones to ever leave. But not right now, never when he's around.

- It's okay, you know - Lucifer sighs, leaning down to kiss right between your collarbones - Sooner or later you'll realize, there's no shelter, no hideout where I wouldn't find you. That's true love, babe.

- Stop - a plea slips between your lips, quiet and pathetic, reminiscent of when you've fallen to your knees, begging a demon to bring your friend back.

What you were pleading for this time, you couldn't really comprehend, all you know is, you don't want to do this. You can't do this, and if this really was true love, wasn't he supposed to understand?

The beating of your hear escalates, when he moves to grab at your face, hands so perfectly fitting alongside your jaw. He turns your head from side to side, as if wanting to commemorate every angle, etch it into his mind. If it were any other man, you'd be over the moon. If he wasn't a threat of catastrophic magnitude, just waiting to end the lives of your friends and everyone on Earth, you would've craned your neck further, given him access. Accepted your fate.

Yet, when his cold lips press into yours, it's so easy to forget why you've been unwilling all this time. He's gotten better at it, you muse, as he kisses your unmoving mouth, trying to pull some reaction out of you. Finally, you gasp, when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down hard enough to draw blood. Immediately he takes advantage, thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw, until you have no choice, but to open up to him. It's nauseating, the way he kisses you, as if he needs to map out the insides of your mouth right this instance.

Lucifer pulls away so suddenly, for a second you follow his mouth before steeling yourself. Blood trickles down from your bitten lips, and he launches at the small streak. Tongue laps at the skin of your chin, licking off every trace of red, and the sound he makes is downrigh sinful. Then, emboldened by your taste, his hands push upwards, the muscles of your neck straining, as he moves your head back.

The skin of your throat is exposed and pulled taunt, and your entire body is ready to collapse, when he presses open mouthed kisses along your trachea. Then, as you let out a whimper, he moves to the side, kissing and licking a line towards your pulse point. He stays there for a moment, dragging his teeth down the cullumn of your throat, hard enough to make you squirm in discomfort. From gentle coaxing, his ministrations took a sharp turn to roughter territories.

- So sweet - Lucifer muses to himself, taking another whiff of your scent - I could just eat you up.

Something in his tone of voice startles you. It's not a cute love confession, a cliche line from a romantic movie. From his lips, it sounds daunting, like a promise he can't wait to fulfill. Your eyes swipe downwards, but all you can see is the top of his head, as he dips down to further abuse your throat. He's not gentle by any means, all teeth and no comfort with the way he nibbles at the skin behind your ear. It's pleasurable, or it would be, if it were any other person, or a person at all.

Then, the air seems to shift, a sinister streak you're not familiar with crawls the lenght of your back, and you tremble like a caught bird in his unwavering grasp. As if sensing the change, his hands switch the hold on your face, supporting the underside of your jaw and chin, pulling up and up, until you have to stand on your tippy toes.

- Perhaps I should - ringing fills your ears as tears flood the corners of your eyes - Perhaps that will show you, who you belong to.

And with that, he pulls back. Like a priest raising his cup at the Holy Communion, he raises your head, eyes roaming across the marks he has made on your throat. And then, he dives down, jaw open, teeth glistening in the darkness of the night.

You can feel it all, as he tears through skin and muscle, sinking into your trachea as if taking a bite out of a ripe apple. Your scream sounds so far away, so muddled, for a moment you can't recognize it's you that's screaming. Then, he pulls back with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and your voice dies down in a gargle. Blood floods your mouth, spills through your teeth, a waterfall of red soaking your entire front. Through hazy vision you see him chew and swallow, and the sight churns your insides, as you double over, bile quickly making it's way up what's left of your throat.

Except, it doesn't hit the pavement. It lands on the wooden floors of Bobby's guest room. Confusion barely registers in your panicked state, as you roll off the bed, grabbing at the gaping wound in your throat. A wound that isn't there at all. Phantom pain wrenches a series of shouts from you, like an animal caught in a trap. Begging from help. Knowing it will recieve none. The coarse surface of the floor scratches at your thighs, as you push yourself into a nearest corner, tears mixing with sweat on your face.

That's when Dean rushes in, Sam right after him. Any other day, you'd consider their company a blessing, but right now all you can think of, is what Lucifer has in store for them. How he can hurt them, to get to you. Castiel teleports into the room soon after, and you wish the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole.

- He was... - you wince, voice creaking like old hinges - He was in my dream.

That's all Sam needs to cross the room and kneel in front of you, gently pulling at your hands, which are still clutching the non-existent wound on your throat. The skin is red and raw, nail marks trail down from under your chin to your collarbones, but there is nothing else.

- I know - Sam whispers, arms encircling you in a warm hug, that just feels like entrapment - I know, I'm so sorry.

Deep down you know, he understands. The weight of being promised to the Devil, the torment he can bring upon a person, the fear. But right now, all you can feel are teeth, and lips, and hands which are too cold to be anything other than a monster.

Castiel has questions, you can see it, in the way his eyes scan the room, fall on your shaking frame, still pushed into a corner. He doesn't ask them, thankfully, opting to gruffly mutter something about checking the wards around the house. Bobby yells from his office, Dean yells back. You try to focus on the warmth coming from Sam's chest. You stay like that for a couple more minutes, before finally, calming down enough to stand up and wipe your tears off your face with a heavy hand.

- We'll figure something out - Sam supplies his usual response to anything Apocalypse related.

What used to be a hopeful promise, right now sounds more like a hollow echo.

Dean keeps his opinions to himself, chewing on them as he hands you a beer fresh out of the fridge. Only when the liquid freezes it's way down your pipes, you are certain your throat is where it should be. Your brain is coming back as well, rebellion, loneliness, all the traits Lucifer has read from you. They mix with anger, slowly rising within your chest, because fuck that. Fuck him, fuck God and fuck every single entity responsible for your current predicament.

- Yeah - you force yourself to sound convinced - Yeah, we'll kick his fucking ass.

#my writing #supernatural #lucifer x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn lucifer #spn #spn x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #besties i don't think we can “power of love” this one through

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christinebloodwrittings · 7 months

Text

Till' death do us apart.

Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warning: Biblical nonsense. :}

Masterlist –– Next chapter

So this was caused by the absolute brain rot my love for the series has given me, 40% of the text I got it from the transcript of the first episode Overture, and Michael's text was brought by Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light, shoutout to the creator. It's a one time thing as to bring this sort of prologue.

As always, the characters mostly belong to Vivienne Medrano, and it is a fanfiction with no intention of offending anyone.

Prologue

At the beginning, Heaven rose from the light of creation, it´s golden glow soon was to be known though out existence. It was ruled by beings of pure light, Angels that worshiped good and shielded the world from all evil.

Samael was one of the first angels. He was a dreamer with delusional ideas for all of creation, for this, he was seen as a menace. The elders of Heaven were brought to the conclusion that his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when its creation, the forbidden fruit was placed in the hands of a mortal woman, this made the high command make the decision to banish Samael from heaven, causing the creation of the demonic place known years later as Hell.

The word 'Hell' was derived from an Anglo-Saxon word hellia, that meant wicked or evil.

Samael’s wife, the first human woman ever created, Lilith, thrived with the decision. After being banished along with her husband, she empowered demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.

To say Heaven was threatened by that fact was an understatement, according to the paperwork Adam - the first human man and soul to enter heaven – left, I was able to discover that the overpopulation was being handled through an extermination, a massive genocide is a correct termination. What I found interesting, was that the procedure ruled out hell-born beings, no exceptions, and no precedents of any contract with Samael or any form of power known to rule in hell.

To think Adam’s heart was so big that he decided to condemn only human souls, sparing “innocent” hell-born beings, is moronic. But as soon as I started to leave my obligations unattended to uncover the mystery of the excess of blood in the hands of the high command, my actions were noticed by Michael, the archangel of light.

“Demons... It seems as if I can never catch them all and destroy them, and their numbers continue to expand, corrupting the minds of mortals” he scoffed, picking up his cup of tea, “That’s no reason to go down and take their lives, if you’re so concerned about them corrupting mortals, shut down their access to portals-“ he interrupted me hitting the table hard, breaking the saucer on which he placed the cup, his voice became distorted and his eyes widened around his head, trying to intimidate me.

“They are sinful beasts who rejected our light so we help remove them from it and keep them in the shadows of Hell. We allow them to live, an example of the angel's merciful will, but their population must be... controlled, until they cease being an annoying, persistent thorn in the side of our family” he hissed.

“Our family, was pushed down a hole and since then, no one, not even you, has tried to establish any contact, don’t you think it’s almost an insult that Adam saw Samael before us? Because I do”

“You seem to have a clouded judgement” he adjusted his glasses with a stern movement.

“It’s as clear as ever, I go to earth, I see the souls go either up or dragged down, you’re the one that is clouded because you haven’t witnessed any of their pain” my blood boiled causing my aura to manifest around me.

“Watch your words” he warned, his eyes flaring in a blue from of flame.

“I can't wait for him to find out, and what will be worse for you, is that everyone will know that you agreed to this from the beginning” I snickered, it was wrong to provoked him, but I felt as if I had the upper hand on him.

I wish someone had warned me of how wrong I was.

“You were the only “no” that day, you were the only one to try to defend his ideas” he thought out loud.

“So?” I asked confused, reaching for the door.

There was a shrill sound, the next thing I knew, I felt a horrible pain in my back, also heat, the air was humid and hot, a smell of blood between fresh and thousands of years old. I don't know how long I was face down in the dirt, I was only able to get up when the pain stopped enough and I was able to move to dry my tears. The dry, arid land under my hands and the sign in front of me confirmed my suspicions.

Son of a bitch had thrown me into Hell.

#alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1

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flurrys-creativity · 14 days

Text

A stitch in time...

Pairing: Ateez (OT8) x GN!Reader; Genre: angst, horror, thriller, murder au, hinted supernatural au, mentioned detective au; Rating: nsfw, 18+, MDNI; Warnings: ghost hunting, abandoned place, trespassing, hints of being haunted, blood, puddles of blood, talks about blood, hinted murder, mentions of a serial killer/mass murderer, hinted demon possession, slight description of a rotting body, descriptions of dead bodies, OBVIOUSLY major character deaths, NO happy ending, open end... let me know if I missed something; Wordcount: 5.783

Event: @pirateeznet 2nd anniversary event; Prompt: Horror

moodboard/prompt credit: @daemour

Summary: Hunting for a ghost at an abandoned convent turned way more gruesome than any of you could have anticipated.

A/N: I feel like I suck at horror... and I feel like this isn't even closely enough horrific... well... have fun anyway. FUN FACT THOUGH! The title "A stitch in time..." is based on the proverb "a stitch in time saves nine" so I included some hints based on that proverd as well as the meaning of the number 9... the research was definitely a lot of fun and made my brain go brrrrrr...

“Why is it we’re going in the middle of the night again?”

You opened one eye, an amused smirk playing over your features upon hearing San’s question.

The car shook gently as Yunho drove your group along a winding, uneven path towards an abandoned convent. Seonghwa guided him through the dark of the night with a map on his lap, ignoring San’s anxious demeanour completely.

Hongjoong, who sat next to Seonghwa on the double passenger seat, rolled his eyes. “You know the reason”, he grunted dismissively and made himself more comfortable in his seat again.

“I know”, San whined, leaning forward to grab Hongjoong’s shoulders, “but why?”

Wooyoung leaned over your form to pry San’s hands from their leader. “Oh, come here, my sweet little scaredy-cat.”

You opened both eyes now, watching them be all touchy and cuddly right on your lap with an unreadable expression.

Jongho made the sound of throwing up, pretending to be heavily disgusted by their display of affection.

“The real question is, why didn’t you two want to sit next to each other? Now you’re torturing Y/N instead with your antics.” Yeosang snickered from behind, thankful he wasn’t the victim caught in the middle for once.

The two men on your lap turned their heads, looking at your face. While San had an almost apologetic and pleading expression, Wooyoung just grinned up at you cheekily. “Oh, you know Y/N secretly likes that.”

You scoffed at that, pushing his head playfully away from yourself. “You wish.”

“Oh, yes! You have no idea how much I wish for you to join.”

“If they’re asking you to follow them, they want a threesome with you. Just a heads up.” Mingi commented, laughing at how Jongho immediately made the throwing up sounds again.

“Mingi!” San cried out, sitting back up and turning around to look at the man behind him. “You can’t just say that!”

“Worried you’re too scared to get it up?”

This time you rolled your eyes and slid down in your seat, wishing to be excluded from the fight. You closed your eyes again, drowning out their bickering voices and focusing on the reason you were there to begin with.

“We’re here!” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the discussion, directing a stern look at all the passengers around you. “Remember to be discreet. We do not want any authorities to bust our mission.”

“Yes, mom!” All of them called in unison before spilling out of the parked car.

You chuckled softly, seeing Seonghwa’s pained smile. He truly did behave like the mom of the group. “They’re a lot, aren’t they?” You patted his shoulder and got out of the car yourself.

Yunho had opened the tailgate of the car, revealing several backpacks and equipment for the paranormal investigation they had planned.

“So this convent was abandoned ninety years ago after a massacre where eight nuns and a priest got murdered”, Hongjoong recited the information he had gathered over the past few weeks, “the other residents were so traumatised by this event that they couldn’t stand it staying near this place.”

Yeosang laughed nervously. “Nine people died back then.” He glanced around at his team. “And we’re nine people as well.”

The second Yeosang finished his observation, San started whining loudly, pouting and refusing to go anywhere near the convent now.

Jongho smack Yeosang’s back. “Better watch out then.”

You rolled your eyes again and grabbed your backpack, hoisting it up on one shoulder. “They’re joking”, you muttered towards San as you thrusted his backpack into his flailing arms.

Wooyoung wrapped himself around the broad shoulders of San. “I’ll protect you, my sweet little scaredy-cat.” He laughed squeakily and jumped up and down, pulling San towards the building in the process.

“So much for being discreet”, Seonghwa sighed deeply. He turned on his flashlight, letting the circle of light wander over the surrounding area.

“It’s going to be alright.” Mingi patted his shoulder. “We’re far away from any town or village. Who’s going to notice we’re trespassing, huh?”

“With that blabbermouth even the capital miles away will hear us do that”, Jongho grunted, switching his flashlight on as well and heading straight for the building.

The rest followed him in various states of enthusiasm. Yunho was the last one to follow, closing the tailgate and locking the car before he tagged along.

All of you stopped at the gates to the convent, an unspoken tension weighing down on everyone.

You looked around, ignoring the roaming circles of light from the others. The surrounding woods seemed rather dense at night, the light of the flashlights barely reaching further than the second line of trees.

The old convent walls were overgrown with vines, some of them even stretching over gaping holes as the stone had caved in over time. Random things laid on the ground, grass half growing over them. Statues of angels had fallen over, their stone pieces scattered all over the place.

“Inviting”, you mumbled under your breath, pushing past the hesitating men and entering the convent grounds.

The path used to be there was barely visible - even less during the dark of the night. You stepped over some broken statue pieces, making a grimace at the crunching sound underneath your feet. You heard the others following you, their lights wandering around the area in curiosity.

“I think we should find the room where it all happened and set up some of our equipment there”, Yunho suggested, passing you with his long legs. Mingi followed close behind, already holding the EMF metre in his large hand.

When you glanced behind you, you noticed how the others also held their specialised equipment in their hands: a night vision camera, thermometers, an old radio to catch static sounds or even voices as well as a thermographic camera.

All that in hopes of witnessing the presence of one ghost.

Before you even entered the building the first small groups had built and split up. Wooyoung, San and Yeosang stayed outside, checking the grounds for any activity. Jongho quickly ventured into the left wing of the building on his own, while Seonghwa and Hongjoong went further into the back.

You hurriedly caught up with Mingi and Yunho, both of them walking up the stairs to the next level.

The steps cracked underneath your weight, making you wince from the seemingly loud sound. The stench of mould and wet furniture invaded your nose.

“Can you imagine all of this once bustled with life?”

“How lively can it be with a bunch of nuns living here?” You retorted to Yunho’s question, barely able to hide the grin on your face.

He snorted and slowed down his pace, staying next to you and bumping your shoulder playfully. “Don’t you have to be a little more respectful on these grounds? Aren’t they holy or something?”

“Even after all this time?” Mingi joined you on your other side, looking at you two with wide eyes.

“Definitely not!” You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Maybe the church on the east side was a holy ground but definitely not anymore.”

“Why not?”

Yunho grinned at you, heavily amused by the fact Mingi now started asking you all kinds of questions.

“To make something holy you have to cleanse it. It’s basically like showering. If you don’t shower after a while you start to stink. So do grounds that don’t get cleansed regularly. They don’t stay holy.”

Mingi made a sound of understanding, nodding his head ever so slowly while his eyes roamed around the long hallway.

You glanced at Yunho, who simply winked at you. He didn’t say anything else, instead turning around a corner and leaving you alone with Mingi.

For a while you two only walked side by side further along the corridor. Your steps and the constant peeping of the EMF the only sound bouncing from the walls.

A cold shiver ran through your whole body. You stopped in your movements. You furrowed your brows.

Mingi stopped a few steps further down the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you feel that?” You looked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “What about the EMF? Quick! Come back here! Does it pick something up?” You ushered Mingi back to your spot, grabbing his wrist and pulling the EMF right in front of your chest.

“Nothing.”

You moved Mingi’s arm around the area, hoping to catch some sort of activity. “What?” You growled in annoyance. Did you just imagine the cold? Is your mind playing tricks on you? What just happened?

“What’s wrong?” Mingi repeated his question, growing nervous from your frantic movements. “What was I supposed to feel?”

Your heart rate increased rapidly. Your breathing turned shallow. Your eyes darted around aimlessly and unfocused. “Something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked several times, softly shaking your head. You looked back up at Mingi. Fear evident in both of your gazes. “I don’t know.”

Before your mind caught up to your body, you already hurried back down the corridor. Something pulled you back downstairs. While you had no idea what it was, you just knew you had to be there as fast as possible.

The light of your flashlight flickered as you turned around a corner, momentarily leaving you in the dark. You rushed deeper into the building, barely avoiding broken doors and walls.

When you turned around yet another corner, you suddenly slipped and fell to the ground.

“Fuck.” You hissed as you pushed yourself up again. The flashlight had rolled several feets away from you, going on and off repeatedly. You raised one hand to your forehead, groaning from the dull throbbing.

You stopped in your movements. The scent of something metallic forcing its way into your nose. At the same time the feeling of something warm and sticky on your hands made itself known. As you sat there in the dark another cold shiver ran down your back. You raised your trembling hands in front of your body, eyes trained on them. Only after the flashlight turned on once again, did you see it.

Something red coloured your hands. It dripped down to the puddle on the ground, somewhat connecting your hands to it.

Your ears started ringing. A cold sweat spread all over your skin. Your eyes unfocused.

“Y/N!” You felt several hands pulling at your shoulders and arms. They shook you anxiously until you finally snapped out of your stupor.

“What happened?”

“Y/N?”

“Are you alright?”

“We heard you scream!”

You turned your head almost mechanically to look at them. Your eyes wandered over the seven faces staring at you. “Where’s Hongjoong?”

The men turned their heads, looking at each other and around, before shrugging with their shoulders.

“Wasn’t he with you, Seonghwa?”

“Only in the beginning!”

You looked back at your hands, trying desperately to stop the tremble inside of them.

Wooyoung grabbed your shoulder, pulling your focus back to them. “What happened, Y/N? We heard you scre-”. His voice got stuck in his throat when he finally noticed your hands. “What the fuck?”

The others turned their gazes to your hands as well. They gasped or cursed in shock.

“Is that blood?”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Why did you ask for Hongjoong?”

Yunho walked around the room, moving his circle of light all over the place. “Hongjoong?” His voice boomed through the room, even echoing from the hallway outside. “Hongjoong? Where are you?”

No answer.

“Y/N? Please”, Seonghwa begged quietly, crouching down next to you. “Tell us what happened?”

“Let’s get Y/N out of this room first”, Jongho interjected. He forcefully helped you up, keeping his hand on your upper arm and pulling you outside.

Once outside Jongho sat you down on one of the many fallen statues. He stepped back again, leaving you some space.

The others gathered around you, nervous glances being exchanged and wandering around. Hongjoong still hasn’t appeared.

Seonghwa was the first to move again, walking up to you and kneeling in front of your form. He pulled some tissues out of his pockets, as well as a bottle of water. Without a word he reached for your hands and quietly started cleaning them.

“Do you think Hongjoong got lost somewhere?” Yeosang whispered, glancing at the others with uncertainty.

“No.”

All heads snapped to you, surprised to hear your hoarse voice. “You seem to know something we don’t.”

You nodded ever so slowly. “There’s a reason I joined your mission.” You pulled a badge out of your pocket and held it up for them to see it. “I’m a detective and I’m working on a case of a serial killer. I followed some new leads, which brought me to you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Yunho interrupted you with furrowed brows. His expression appeared cold and distant, as if he tried to control his own anger.

“Hongjoong was murdered.”

They gasped in shock, eyes widening almost comically. Some of them protested weakly, not wanting to believe one of their friends is dead. “He could just be hurt somewhere!”

“There was too much blood on the floor.” You shook your head and bit down on your lower lip. “He’s definitely dead already.”

“Shouldn’t we get out of here then? If there’s a serial killer roaming around that building somewhere?” Wooyoung questioned.

“We can’t just leave Hongjoong here!”

“HE’S DEAD ALREADY! Are you willing to risk your own life for a corpse?”

“HE’S OUR FRIEND!”

You watched them yell at each other. Silently, you noted down within your mind every little detail you caught on. After all, your intel showed you it must be one of them. “We won’t be able to leave.”

“What?” Their arguing stopped instantly as they turned back to you. As you didn’t say anything else, a nervous tension filled the air.

“You think it’s one of us”, Jongho stated bluntly, followed by more gasps of shock.

You saw how they turned to look at you, hoping Jongho only made a cruel joke. Though seeing your serious expression their hope vanished. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I need to go back to the crime scene. I hope to find some sort of clue who might have done it.” You pushed yourself up, quietly thanking Seonghwa for his help cleaning you up.

“What about us?”

“You can’t go alone!”

San jumped forward and wrapped his arms around one of yours, clinging himself to your side. “I don’t wanna die here”, he whispered into your ear, looking at you pleadingly.

Seonghwa stepped next to you as well. “If it’s one of us, I agree that you can’t go alone.”

“We can’t all go”, you sighed in exasperation. “I fear we already destroyed important evidence the first time we were there.” You massaged your temples, feeling like your head was about to explode. “I also need to find his body.”

“Then let's make two groups”, Mingi suggested, “one will search for Hongjoong and the other will check the room again.”

You nodded. “Let’s do that.”

After some discussion Yeosang joined the two men, who already made it to your side, and the other four men formed the second group.

You hoped this way everyone stayed somewhat safe for now - or at least until you discovered some sort of clue to save the innocent.

“I, uh, I’ll stay outside of the room”, San whispered as he stopped in front of the broken door, staring with unfocused eyes into the dark void. He didn’t react to Seonghwa’s sweet words, asking him to come inside, nor did he react to Yeosang’s soft pulling.

“Stay in the doorway and look outside. That way you’re not out of sight.” You barely waited for his short nod before you walked into the room. You had grabbed San’s flashlight, since your own lied broken on the ground.

You immediately started your search, checking every corner of the room. You somewhat ignored the others, too focused on your own mission. There had to be something. You had to find something, anything.

San stayed at the doorway like you told him, but your constant muttering as well as the stench of blood and mold drained the colour from his face. “I don’t think I can…” He didn’t finish his words, doubling over and vomiting on the ground.

“He needs to get out of here!” You ordered and pointed aimlessly at Yeosang and Seonghwa, hoping either of them would help him out.

Yeosang immediately jumped to his friend, waiting until he only gasped for air to pull him outside.

Seonghwa on the other hand already pulled out several more tissues and handed them to San. He crouched down as well, wiping along the doorframe for a second, before he followed Yeosang and San outside.

You stayed behind, pondering over the events that happened here. You definitely wanted to talk to Seonghwa, questioning him about his actions. As far as you knew he was also the last one to be with Hongjoong, making him the main suspect in this case.

Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t notice someone approaching you.

Out of the corner of your eye and at the edge of your light you saw something bloodied. Again.

A scream got stuck in your throat.

You turned around. Ready to defend yourself.

When Mingi raised his hands in an innocent manner. “Hey, there.”

You cursed under your breath, laughing awkwardly when the initial shock subsided. “My heart nearly stopped, Mingi! You can’t scare me like that!” You walked over to him, pulling him into a hug from the relief you felt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” He wrapped himself around you. “I just lost the others and knew you should be here.”

You furrowed your brows in surprise and confusion. “How did you lose the others? You should have stayed together.”

“You’re on your own as well!”

You rolled your eyes with a soft chuckle. “San wasn’t able to stay near the crime scene so the others brought him outside.” You turned your head and looked over the room again. “Maybe we should follow them”, you mumbled and pursed your lips. You had to question Seonghwa, there was no way around it.

Mingi guided you outside again, where you found a retching San and Yeosang helplessly standing next to him.

“Where’s Seonghwa?”

Yeosang pointed towards the building and you followed his finger with your gaze.

With a sigh you rolled your shoulders, ready to confront him, when Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung came running from the direction you wanted to go.

Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, the colour from his features draining as he stared at you with wide eyes.

The other two kept rushing towards you, a crazed look in their eyes. “Weren’t you all supposed to stay with Seonghwa?” Yunho pointed accusingly at you and then at Yeosang and San.

“He went back in! How was I supposed to stay with Seonghwa with a retching San right over here?” Yeosang protested loudly, his hand vaguely waving over the bend over San.

“Mingi was with me”, you answered, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “Why are you even asking?”

“Because we just found his body”, Jongho interjected.

Your expression dropped, hands falling to your sides. “No”, you whispered, exhaling shakily. “This can’t be.” You ran past them, ignoring their calls and hurrying inside. You stopped at every little room, peeking inside in hopes to find Seonghwa.

“Hwa!” Your voice carried a sense of desperation as your search continued without any sign of him. “Seonghwa! Answer me!”

“He can’t.”

You whirled around at Yeosang’s voice. Your eyes jumped between his own, trying to understand what was going on. “This can’t be true.”

“What are you doing here?” Yunho interrupted you two, staring at you with a pointed look. “Why are you over there? We found him in that room.” He pointed at a room that you had passed already.

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I already checked that room. Seonghwa wasn’t in there.”

“What are you talking about?” You heard the hint of annoyance in his voice before he stormed off into that room.

Without hesitation you rushed over to him, following him into the room as well. You ignored Yeosang who still stood there, silently watching you. “See, I told you-”

“Where did you take him?” Yunho’s voice boomed through the room. His anger finally took over and he turned around, glaring at you menacingly.

You startled from his sudden outburst, stumbling backwards and blinking several times.

Mingi showed up behind you, followed by the others. All of them got drawn into the room by his loud voice, worried gazes switching between him and you.

“I’m asking you again. WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM?”

You stuttered something incomprehensible, unable to form a coherent sentence or argument. You didn’t even know what to say to calm him down either.

“How would they be able to drag a whole body around without any of us noticing? Y/N wasn’t even alone at all.” Mingi placed his hands on your shoulder, backing you up not just with his words but with his gesture as well.

“Then who did it?” Yunho stalked through the room, grabbing drawers, tables and chairs and throwing them around as if he’d find Seonghwa somewhere behind them.

You watched him silently, thoughts already racing inside your head. You had suspected Seonghwa to be the murderer but apparently you had been way off with him now gone too. Your eyes wandered to the other guys, wondering who the culprit might be instead.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You just couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m out of here”, San muttered, still pale and weak on his legs. He didn’t wait for any response, wobbling out of the room already.

“He shouldn’t go alone.”

You watched how Yeosang followed him until he was out of your sight. In the meantime Jongho tried calming Yunho down again, promising to find both missing members with him. They left the room as well, leaving Mingi at your side and Wooyoung close to the entrance, staring at you blankly.

“What are we going to do now?”

You silently shook your head, unsure what was the best course of action. You turned your head to look at Mingi. As of now he seemed to be the only one who couldn’t have done either of the murders.

“I think we shouldn’t be splitting up again”, he mumbled and gently pushed you towards the entrance.

Wooyoung stayed where he was, his head turning almost mechanically as you passed.

“Aren’t you coming?” You called over your shoulder. A cold shiver ran down your spine again. Something definitely was off here.

Even with Mingi’s suggestion of staying together, it appeared harder than all of you anticipated. Somehow there seemed to be always a kind of situation that pulled your group apart.

And one by one your group got smaller and smaller.

After Hongjoong and Seonghwa, Yeosang was the next to vanish.

Except for another large puddle of blood his body was nowhere to be found.

Then Jongho disappeared.

He heard a noise and followed it. Never came back.

San currently sat down, pressed against a wall. He slightly rocked his upper body back and forth, mumbling quietly and erratically to himself.

You tried calming him down, crouching down in front of his form. Though your words didn’t reach him at all.

A movement at the corner of your eye caught your attention, letting you glance towards it for a second. Only when your gaze moved back to San, did your brain register what you saw.

Mingi.

At least a version of Mingi.

Pitch black eyes. Hollow cheeks and blood streaks running down from his eye sockets. Chapped lips and an even paler complexion than San who felt sick.

The air got stuck in your throat, fear gripping at your very core. Your eyes shakily moved back, followed by your whole head.

You exhaled in disbelief, pitifully laughing at yourself and your mad imagination. “It’s you”, you chuckled and shook your head, “again.”

Except for some dishevelled clothing and hair Mingi looked just the same.

You stood up and brushed over your clothes, sending one last pitiful glance at San. “I think I’ll go look for Yunho. He’s been raging around like crazy with everything that’s going on.”

As you started to walk away, Mingi silently followed you, continuously staying one step behind you. He only left your side when you asked him to check a room here and there.

To your surprise though Yunho was nowhere to be found. At the same time you noticed something else.

It felt eerily quiet.

“Let’s head back to San”, you called out and started running towards the outside.

Your breathing came out ragged when you finally reached the spot where you had left him.

Only to find an empty spot.

You cursed under your breath, running your fingers through your hair. “This can’t be happening.” You paced around and started chewing on your nail.

By now you had searched every room of the convent and even the outside grounds without having found any trace of the others.

Except for puddles of blood.

You stopped your pacing, your head turning towards the church at the east side of the grounds.

The only place you hadn’t checked yet.

Your first steps were hesitant, more like a stumble before you broke out into another sprint.

When you reached the double doors to the church, two voices called out your name. You turned around with wide eyes, seeing both Wooyoung and Mingi running towards you.

“You shouldn’t go in there alone”, Mingi panted once he reached you.

“You shouldn’t be here in the first place”, Wooyoung hissed.

You blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was happening. With furrowed brows and your eyes switching between them two you still reached for the door, intent on opening it.

It’s then that you noticed Wooyoung wasn’t even looking at you. His glare was directed towards Mingi.

“What’s going-”

“How many times do I have to kill you?”

Your jaw dropped open and your eyes widened when you heard Wooyoung’s question.

“WHY! Why can’t you stay dead?”

You stepped back, your weight pushing the door to the church open. You stumbled backwards, barely catching yourself.

Mingi called out to you but got rooted in his place when you reached for your weapon and raised it towards them. You moved it between the two men, desperately trying to make sense of this whole situation.

“What do you mean by killing him over and over again?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your eyes flicked towards Wooyoung and then back to Mingi.

“So”, you inhaled deeply, “you killed all the others?”

“No!” Wooyoung raised both his hands, a desperate attempt to show his innocence. “I swear it wasn’t me!”

Your attention turned to Mingi who stared ahead of you with a face void of any emotion. When you glanced back at Wooyoung, you noticed how his eyes widened in shock as they focused on something behind you.

Ever so slowly you turned around. You swallowed harshly.

The inside of the church was kept in pristine condition. The walls stayed a blinding white, same with the floor. The seats were aligned in perfect rows from the front to the back and the gold applications on the altar appeared as new as ever.

There wasn’t any sign of broken furniture nor spots of mould. The only thing inside the whole room that shouldn’t have been there were six bodies placed in a circle right in front of the altar.

You clapped your hand in front of your mouth, the scream stuck in your throat.

More blood pooled around the bodies, connecting them to one another. Their pale skin nearly glowed against the dark red of the blood. Their hands were folded in a praying manner across their chests while their dead eyes stared at the ceiling.

You turned back around to the two remaining guys. “What kind of psycho are you to do this to your friends?” You yelled and pointed your gun back at Wooyoung. “And you tried killing Mingi too?”

“It wasn’t me!” Wooyoung cried out. “Well, at least not this.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You glanced towards Mingi, who stayed oddly impassive to the whole situation. You mused he was in shock.

Wooyoung stepped towards you and you quickly focused back on him. “I can’t let this slide.” His eyes widened and his expression morphed from shock to sheer panic.

The gun shot rang loudly through the air, followed by the dull drop from Wooyoung’s body hitting the floor.

You exhaled shakily. Your eyes were unfocused.

You only got it together when Mingi started moving again.

Mingi calmly walked over to Wooyoung’s body and picked it up, carrying it over to the circle of the others.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you started.”

“What I started?” You asked incredulously. You scoffed, disbelief radiating from every cell inside your body.

“The human mind is such a flimsy thing.” Mingi laughed out, the sound empty and foreign. “Can’t even remember what you did, you poor little thing.” He placed Wooyoung down on the ground, filling one of the empty spots in the circle.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as one cold shiver after the other ran along your spine.

This wasn’t right. Nothing of this was right.

You raised your gun back up, pointing it at Mingi this time. Dread filled your chest at the thought of having shot someone innocent. Though he said he tried to kill Mingi - more than once. So technically Wooyoung wasn’t that innocent. At least that’s what you tried telling yourself to justify the seemingly grave mistake you made.

“Explain yourself!”

“You suspected Hongjoong at first-”

You barked out a laugh. “What are you even talking about? He died first! How should he have been a suspect?”

Mingi’s head turned towards you, a boyish grin plastered on his lips. “Remember the reason you joined this expedition? ‘Cause you thought there was a serial killer hiding among us. And you suspected Hongjoong to be it.”

You bit on your lower lip, silently waiting for him to continue speaking.

“Now with Hongjoong’s death you needed a new suspect and who else to pick but his partner for everything.” Mingi stood back up, walking around the circle of bodies only for him to stop at Seonghwa’s head. “So you confronted him and killed him, thinking all your made up clues inside your head were pointing at him. But then his body disappeared and fear gripped your heart again.”

Memories flashed inside of your mind, showing you scenes of a fight and Seonghwa’s face twisted in pain.

“Same with all the others. Yeosang, Jongho, Yunho, San.” Mingi stopped at each one of them as he spoke before he slowly walked towards you. “For each one of them you crafted yourself some sort of reason why they were the culprits and you killing them was supposed to save the others. And nobody ever suspected you. After all, slipping on Hongjoong’s blood was a great move: being covered in it nobody suspected any blood stain on you.”

Your hands started trembling as more memories of your gruesome actions filled your mind.

Mingi placed his hand on yours, slowly pushing them down until the gun pointed at the ground. He walked around you while his hands ran up your arms.

You shivered when his breath caressed the shell of your ear. “There never was a serial killer in this group”, he whispered in a low tone, “not until you turned into one yourself, my little mass murderer.”

You shook your head in denial, tears spilling out and running over your cheeks. This couldn’t be true. You couldn’t have possibly done all of this. “I don’t believe you.”

Mingi chuckled into your ear, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders. “Maybe you should believe your own memories. Aren’t they coming back to you? Right, you simply don’t want to trust yourself. How could it be possible for a good person to turn bad all in the name of justice.”

You shook your head again, barely noticing how Mingi guided you closer towards the circle of bodies.

There were still two empty spots and a part of your brain knew what that meant. “You’re going to end this here, aren’t you?”

Mingi laughed again. “On the contrary. You’ll be the one to end it all.”

You looked up at him through teary eyes, brows furrowing in confusion. “I won't kill you now that I know what happened!”

Mingi stepped away from you, walking over to one of the empty spots. “There's no need for that. This body has been dead for a while now.” He waved his hand in front of his form as if he was pulling a curtain aside, revealing the horrific state of his body that you had thought you imagined earlier on.

You slowly shook your head from side to side in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. You simply couldn’t believe this to be true.

You watched him sit down on the ground, crossing his long legs over one another and leaning back on his palms. He even tilted his head and grinned devilishly at you. “It’s missing only one more thing.” Mingi jerked his chin towards the second empty space of the circle.

A gasp tore its way through your throat at the indication. Yet, all you could do was shake your head mechanically. “You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, obviously I do. We both know you won’t be able to live with the guilt of having murdered eight men - eight friends.”

You desperately wished for this to be a lie, hoped to wake up from a nightmarish fever dream. Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat closed up.

Your mind played one murder after the other inside your head, letting you relive each and everyone of it.

Mingi layed down on the floor, laughing to himself while your inner turmoil tore you apart.

As if your body had a mind of its own, your feet carried you to the last empty spot. Your eyes wandered over the others, staring at them through a blurry vision.

“I can’t”, you whispered, followed by a soft hiccup. You dropped to your knees as sobs tore through your throat.

The dim light from the candles flickered around, casting shadows all over the circle. Soon the sun would rise again. Though none of the bodies inside the church would do the same.

Ever again.

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @songsoomin

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