#voodoo!reader

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME!"

Vodou or Voodoo!reader x platonic Yandere batfam

You haven't gotten out of bed in days, lying there rotting away like a bone. Your amulet, once vibrant purple, is now dusty and dark. Your bedroom is cold, and your altar is neglected; the candles are out. You haven’t put food there, fixed the tablecloth, or done anything. You haven’t prayed or performed a ceremonial dance. You've never been this depressed, this sad, or this angry; you're in despair. Ever since arriving at the mansion, you've felt your life and soul being sucked out, which is strange—you were so lively before. You feel dead, yet you can hear the chatter and laughter downstairs seeping through your thick walls. Usually, you drown it out, but today you listen. You can feel their smiles, their joy, their anger—everything, yet you're not present.

“Why don’t you go down there?” a spirit says, its ghostly hand caressing your shoulder.

“They don’t want me there; you know that already,” you say, your voice cracks. Of course it did; you were crying for hours, maybe even longer, but better not count. “Don’t be like that; they’re your family.”

You scoff at what the spirit says. You want to slap its hand away, but you obviously can't touch it; you can't even feel it, just the cold air that caresses your dark skin.

“I’ll only ruin it,” you say, hovering overhead, letting your despair consume you. If you continue like this, how will you become a great Priestess? Your altar has no gifts, no offerings. You haven’t fixed your hair in days; you haven’t sent us anything, and we love your voice. “Please, my child,” the spirit pleads, “you do not want to go down there. At least do something.”

You don’t answer again. You curl up into a ball. The spirit sighs. “As you wish, young Priestess,” and they disappear into purple smoke. But all you can think about, deep in your head, is that it just isn’t fair. You’re a nice kid; you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re honest, you’re polite—the nicest of them all. Even if there was a niceness contest, you’d come out on top, leaving everybody in your wake. But your father seems to favor the ones who are cruel, mean, and rude. Your younger brother, Damian—a little devil, held you at swordpoint, threatened to kill you, called you a bastard, and you’re supposed to forgive him with open arms? What kind of idiot does Bruce take you for?

And your older brother, who prides himself on family, barely even knows you—the sucker might have to look up your middle name, maybe even your birthday, on some celebrity website. He’s always spending time with the little devil; you have no clue why. You’re way more fun to hang out with than him. But who cares? And your second eldest brother is rude, scary, and he smells like pure death, as if he crawled out of his grave, clutching dirt from the ground beneath him. It makes sense—his eyes are naturally green, just like Damian's, but he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Papa Legba, but him cross without knowing.

And the brother who is the same age as you, Timothy, makes you snore when you hear his name. He’s intellectual, so smart, and yet so stupid, so dumb, and so hypocritical. He’ll find everything and anything to correct you on, even if you’re right, just to ensure that you’re slightly off the mark. The brother you thought you would have an unbreakable bond with is so tight he cut off blood circulation; yet, this bond is flimsier than a piece of string. He’s always talking with Cass, and you're never invited. You have more in common than they think, but to them, you’re just another bastard of Bruce Wayne—Cass, Steph, and Babs are your sisters. You’re supposed to gossip, talk about boys, play hand games, and hold each other, but they are only close with each other and not you.

I mean, trios were never meant to be broken; who even wants a quartet? You pray to Bondye every night. You expel all the darkness within your amulet, and your wishes are always the same each night: “Please, Supreme Lord, let them greet me with open arms; let them see me as their kin; let them love me; let them notice me.” But each night, you are met with nothing but silence. Bondye is quiet, and so are the loa. They always talked to you, but whenever you beg for this family to see you, they can never answer; they can never give advice. At first, you thought it was a test—a series of trials you had to go through to prove that you were worthy of their love. So whenever you were met with hostility, it was like the sharp end of a blade. You opened your arms to them; the trials got harder, and it started to become impossible.

Maybe I have to go in a different direction; maybe meet force with force. But then you get scolded. Maybe you just don’t fight back, but if you don’t, then you will be forgotten. So what next? How do you pass this test, these everlasting trials? You have no clue, no idea, and in fact, you feel lost, and you start to lose faith. Maybe you were just not meant to be loved; you weren’t meant for affection, you weren’t meant to be held, dear. So you let that bitterness and anger swallow you whole as you wallow in your own sorrow and self-pity. This young High Priestess is filled with hurt.

[mothernaturesthings]

teeth whom bite the skin i kiss, smoke x black!oc

a/n: bones and all x sinners x eve’s bayou with a twist. i thought about this literally at two am. i haven’t watched the movie yet so this is based off what i’ve seen from trailers and clips :) this is kinda long ngl guys.

warnings: mentions of blood

synopsis: lousiana native livie, a cannibal, is cursed and banished to the 1930’s after sinking her teeth into someone she shouldn’t have…

chapter one: “don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

1981; Deep Louisiana

Children, ranging from five to thirteen, assembled around a makeshift, timeworn playground. An outbreak of laughter ensued as they sprinted to play a game of tag.

Aside from the children was a young woman with soft, doll-like features occupying a tattered bench. The sun fawned over her pretty tanned skin, so much so that its flattery caused her to be sticky. She tried to disregard the muggy heat by thumbing to next page in the book she was reading. "In Search of Lost Time" was written on the cover, and by the looks of the pages behind the bookmark, she's nearly finished with it.

After a moment of reading, the young woman—or Livie, as she liked to be called—felt a sudden yet timid tap on her shoulder. Livie harshly turned, and a whisper of wind brushed her curls against her cheek. "Hey, ya' still reading that book? I thought you said you was done already?" Céleste, her younger, ginger-haired sister, spouted.

Now irritable from her sister’s interruption, Livie uttered, "Well, I sure am now," through gritted teeth as she slammed the book shut. Noticing that she was bothersome, Céleste silently faced away from her eldest sister, a slight pout threatening to form on her lips. "Sorry." She muttered.

Livie sighed. "It's fine, bug. I was gettin’ tired of reading anyway. Alright?" Céleste nodded and slowly started to scoot closer to Livie on the bench. Livie quirked an eyebrow incredulously. Then, Céleste tapped her shoulder once again and yelled, "Tag, you're it!" before hightailing it towards the wooden monkey bars.

"You little..." Livie grunted and ran after her, not too far behind. Céleste screamed while being chased, some of the children even participating in the hunt.

During the pursuit, a little boy stumbled and landed face-first on the prickled grass, grazing the padding of his finger in the midst.

Livie stopped mid-stride and watched as the boy clutched his finger, face contorted in pain. The remaining children continued on, unaffected by the bumble. The small abrasion, a scrape dotted with blood, immediately caught her eye, and in turn, it twitched.

A glint flared in her pupils. Something primal. Instinctive.

Livie shadowed the boy before cautiously walking over. He was whining now, swaying back and forth as an act of self-soothing.

“Mind if I help?”

The little boy shook his head yes, albeit apprehensively.

Livie held the injured finger towards her, inspecting the fresh wound there. The fleck of blood became a pool that made its descent down to his palm.

That glint returned, but this time, it clouded her pupil completely. Livie was transfixed on that wound, mouth agape, teeth bared.

"Livie?" Céleste questioned. She'd been watching the scene unfold in the distance, and judging by the tears flooding the rim of her lower eyelids, she was terrified.

Unexpectedly, Livie widened her jaw and swallowed a mouthful of the little boy's finger, biting down with brute force. The sheer pressure from her bite force caused his bone to fracture on impact. The little boy bawled and struggled to free himself from her unrelenting grip.

Horror-stricken, the other children squealed and fled. Céleste, however, was scared stiff, too panicked to move.

In a last-ditch effort to break away, adrenaline rushed to his brain, and he gripped her curls, tugging away until the stinging sensation from her scalp snapped her back to reality.

Livie released him, triggering him to tumble onto his back. The scent of metallic blood overwhelmed her senses. She kissed her lips with the touch of her fingers and moved them into her line of sight.

Bloody fingertips.

Livie’s face was blanched lily white. She noticed the little boy still on the ground, a clump of her hair in his fist.

“I’m sorry…” She stuttered out, trailing off once she spotted Céleste.

The little boy stood up, cradling his severed finger. “Ou va regrèt sa. Manman mwen va pini jou ou né!” He cursed, pointing his unscathed finger at Livie. He hobbled off, leaving remnants of blood in his wake.

Although Livie was a full-bred Creole, she was ultimately the outcast of the bloodline, so the language was never taught to her as a child.

In a lapse of momentary weakness, Livie took her bloodied finger and suckled off the crimson liquid. Her hunger now abated.

Céleste warily approached Livie. She knelt and placed an unsteady hand on Livie’s shoulder. Livie glanced up at her; pupils reverted back to normal.

“What’d he say?”

“What?”

“What’d he say?” Livie repeated. “In Creole.”

Céleste gulped, evading the question. “We have to tell Mama.”

-

Nightfall with the pitter-patter of raindrops.

Above stood a two-story weatherboard home, where the cacophony of instruments and stomping trumpeted through the bayou.

Inside, a celebration was in full swing. Guest and family alike were all jigging on the first floor. A captivating eyeful of assorted shades of browns, greens, and reds while bourgeois finest adorned the walls.

The Ronette's “Be My Baby” sonorously played on vinyl. Cigarette smoke lingered around the home, casting a smoggy coloring over everyone.

In the blink of an eye, a drove of children galloped into the living room, one of them being Céleste, now in better spirits. The children shoehorned themselves through the rocking bodies. Céleste bumped into someone by mistake, droplets of their rum splattering on the hardwood.

“Damn it, bug! You and them kids stop rippin’ and runnin’ ‘round here.��� Céleste mother, Colette, scolded; a cigarette dangling in the corner of her mouth. A unknown man, who Céleste couldnt quite recognize, continued to sway Colette’s hips with his big hands.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You been checkin’ on ya’ sister?”

“No, ma’am. Not since dinner.”

“Go on and do that. Don't forget to fetch her some water too, ya’ hear?”

“Okay.” Before Céleste could sprint off, Collette snapped her fingers. “Hey!” Céleste turned around. “Here,” she took a final, charred pull from the cigarette and handed it off to her. “Give this to her. It’ll calm them urges down.”

Céleste accepted the cigarette and beelined it towards the pristine kitchen. Once there, she leaned on her tiptoes to reach the cabinet. She snatched a whisky glass down and switched on the faucet; she let the water fill the glass to the brim before twisting the faucet off.

Céleste hummed and placed the glass on the countertop, meticulous about not spilling the water. She took a steep step backward, assessing her surroundings.

Suddenly, a surge of wind penetrated the unlatched window. Aggravated, Céleste yanked the bottom rail down, bolting the lock. The wind persisted.

In defiance of her mother, Céleste brought the filter tip of the cigarette to her lips. As she was about to inhale the addictive nicotine…

“Céleste Louviere!”

“Comin’, Mama!”

Céleste dropped the cigarette hurriedly and grabbed the whisky glass, oblivious of the tinge of scarlet floating at the bottom of the glass.

In the barn on the outskirts of the bayou, Collette had created a refuge for Livie until she mustered up a plan to bury this incident.

Considering it wouldn't have been the first time.

Livie had dozed off in a leftover heap of hay nearby. Collette already prepared her to be unlocatable for a few days, so she made herself at home.

After ten minutes of nonstop running through the bayou, Céleste barreled into the barn unannounced and breathless. The explosive interruption woke Livie out of her sleep with a start.

“I brought you some water. Mama said so. I can bring some more gumbo if ya’ want me to.” Céleste offered Livie the water, which she reluctantly accepted. The scarlet tinge submerged in the water was no longer.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Just drink it, big head.”

Livie gulped every last drop and passed the now empty glass back to Céleste.

“Guess you were thirsty after all.” She quipped.

“Shut up. You ain’t the one that’s gotta hideout in this hot ass barn all day.” Livie mushed her sister playfully.

“Mama said it’ll only be a couple days in here. She gon’ figure everything out.”

“By sending me away to some crazy house.”

Céleste was taken aback by that crass statement. “She wouldn’t do that.”

Livie chuckled dryly at Céleste naivety.

“I yearn for flesh. Blood. I ain’t normal, ‘Les. After a while, I won’t be able to control my urges no more, and Mama can’t have you in the crossfire when it happens.”

Céleste suppressed her tears at that realization. She understood that Livie was right.

“Mama’s gonna get you some help.” Céleste walked over and sat beside Livie on the hay. “I promise.” Livie smiled and wrapped her arms around her. “I know.”

That surge of wind revisited the bayou, the drift nearly sweeping the girls back. Céleste squeezed her eyes closed as Livie forced her hand out to break the current but to no avail.

Then, it stopped.

Céleste cracked one eye open to gauge the severity of the aftermath. She finally opened both of her eyes and looked around.

Livie was missing.

“Livie? Sissy?” Céleste found her footing and faced the spot where Livie was sitting.

Céleste began to hysterically sob, yanking her curls in frustration. “Livie where are you?”

Vire dèyè, a voice demanded in an alluring undertone.

Céleste obliged and turned around. There it was: the little boy’s amputated finger from earlier.

She screamed bloody Mary and made a break for it, calling out for her mother.

-

In Livie’s inert mind, she was merely resting.

That was until she began to hear voices.

“What a pretty lil’ thing. Ya’ think she’ll dance for the joint?”

“We ain’t got no clue who this girl is or how she ended up in our shit.”

“And who said we gotta find out?”

“Should we get her up?”

A chuckle. “Yeah. Go get the bucket.”

In her realm of solitude, Livie felt a barrage of water splash onto her face. She gasped, crawling away from the water boarding.

Once she regained focus, she scrutinized her environment. She shuffled upright.

She wasn’t in the barn back home.

“Where the hell am I? Who are you?” Livie seized a bottle of Highland Whisky, aiming the base at the gentleman with the velvet fedora. The other gentleman, sporting a blue scalley cap, garnered Livie’s attention by sticking his hand up in mock surrender. “And you! What…”

She sized up the imposing men and it dawned on her.

“Are y’all twins?”

The velvet fedora gentleman flashed a megawatt smile, two of his front row teeth glinting with open face canine gold.

“Nah, we cousins.”

Livie’s vision distorted and went black. Her arms and legs stiffened as she toppled over. Out cold once again.

[hrefna-the-raven]

A gift

Masterlist - Horror masterlist - Misc.

Chucky/Charles Lee Ray x female reader

Warnings: cursing, smut (18+)

Summary: Chucky couldn't exactly recall how you stumbled into his life and by now, all that mattered was that you were here. And when you presented him with the most marvelous gift, all changed...

Notes: this does not exactly follow the canon rules

Requested by the wonderful @stygianoir :) I hope you like it :)

Reader: female reader

Chucky couldn't exactly recall how you stumbled into his life and by now, all that mattered was that you were here. You had been his newest victim's neighbour, living right next door for two years before he found out that you were a powerful voodoo priestess. And this was the problem with you, you didn't care that he was a killer's soul trapped in a Good Guy's doll. Instead, you saw beyond the layers of cruelty and chaos, recognising the flicker of humanity that remained within him. It was this glimpse of that strange compassion that captivated him and made him yearn for more.

As the moon cast eerie shadows upon your living room, during one of your usual late-night conversations, things took an unexpected turn. Emotions ran high, the air around him crackled with green sparkles, and before Chucky knew it, he found himself transformed back into his human form. His hands frantically touched his face, fingers running through his raven hair before marveling at the sensation of flesh and having normal-sized hands once again. Ripples of laughter erupted from him as he couldn't believe what just happened and the moment his eyes locked with yours, he lunged forward, pinning you down beneath him on the couch.

"You made me all myself again", he whispered, his gaze darting between your eyes and lips, "how could I ever repay you?"

"Don't be too quick to thank me", you almost chuckled, "you'll only have a limited time in this form."

"I'll take whatever fucking time I can in my own body."

He leaned down and his lips barely brushing against yours before his tongue slipped past, deepening the kiss. You moaned into him, bucking your hips against his, desperate for friction.

"Eager, aren't you?", Charles chuckled, settling himself between your legs.

He trailed kisses along the delicate flesh of your inner thigh and his fingers slid your panties to the side, his lips pressing against your wet folds for a tender kiss. You whimpered, unable to tame your growing desire as you felt his tongue finally drag through your wetness. He groaned as soon as your taste coated his tongue. It was divine, Heaven's grace all sprawled out just for him. Two fingers pushed your folds apart and he placed gentle kisses along before eagerly sucking on your clit. He devoured you like a man starved, each lick a testament to his gratitude and love for you. Despite the harsh words usually falling from his mouth, it's surprisingly soft and gentle now, chasing you fast towards the brink of pleasure. He growled against you, his fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside. The thrusts are hard and fast while his relentless licks against your clit fuelled that fire within you. The pressure in your core became too much and the orgasm washed over your body as you sobbed, your cunt delightfully clenching around his fingers. Like a whispered curse in the depths of your enticing darkness, his name escaped your lips. Charles chuckled, he wiped his fingers and mouth clean and planted a loving kiss on your lips as he settled beside you. His bright blue eyes stared right into yours, brimming with a mixture of fear and a longing that defied all logical explanation in regards to this usually so bloodthirsty cold man. As the silence hung thick in the air, you reached out and brushed your lips against his and in that fleeting moment Charles realised that his lines had blurred. The notion of being a soulless killer seemed so distant as the warmth of your touch on his now human skin melted away the wickedness that had consumed him for so long. He was fully aware that it would all come back once he turned back into that cursed doll but he also knew that you wouldn't give a fuck and continue to be the same as you always were. Which is exactly why he came to love you even though he'd never admit it....

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Black Penny

Summary: You grew up in the hustle and bustle of a city most of your life, so you packed your few belongings and headed straight to New Orleans. You hoped to live a simpler, quieter life on the Historic French Quarter. By day during the week, you helped manage Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo Shop and by nightfall you tended bar at Black Penny on the weekends.

You were aware mutants existed, and believed them to be just as ordinary as you but only with extraordinary abilities. After living a few years in NOLA, you had a knack of picking them out in a crowd and treated them no differently than you’d treat anyone else. You had many run in’s with mutants on Bourbon Street, but none as impactful as the day you ran into Remy LeBeau.

A/N: Character Intro, She/Her Pronouns, GambitX!FemaleReader, GambitX!NonMutant, RemyLeBeauX!FemaleReader, Mutants, Post Deadpool and Wolverine, Post Void, New Orleans, Alcohol, Pining, Creole/French to English Translation

(c) - Creole

(f)- French

*I just want to disclose I am not a comic expert. Gambit/Remy LeBeau is very new to me and I’m doing my best to stay genuine to what I’ve researched online or from what I’ve seen in the D&W movie. I’m aware there was a HUGE controversy over his heavy accent/dialect and over his eye color in the movie, so I tried to incorporate both versions of each in my stories to satisfy everyone’s preferred Gambit/Remy style. (Personally, I loved Channing Tatum’s accent in the movie ☺️) I’m also cognizant that Gambit and Rogue are an item in the comics, but for sanity sake, Rogue will be a pastime only mentioned in passing if absolutely necessary so I don’t have to study in depth another character I’m unfamiliar with. (I need some brain space for real life stuff, too 😅) Anyway, I’m doing my maximum effort over here writing for Gambit/Remy, so when I do post my developing Gambit story, please, if you have comments or criticisms that don’t benefit anyone else’s appreciation of these fanfics, keep them to yourself and let the rest of us enjoy it. Thanks so much*

♠️♥️♣️♦️

It was a particularly busy night at Black Penny. As live bounce music and jazz blared from the stage, patrons dance and socialize carelessly with each other while you hotfoot from one end of the bar to the other serving up shots and beers.

You approach a man waiting patiently, his face downward hovering over a stack of playing cards.

“What can I getchya?” You ask him.

He began twirling an ace of spades between his fingers.

“(c) Kisa mwen ka jwenn pou ou?” You repeat.

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours with a mischievous grin stretching across his face. An eerie magenta glow softly radiated from his irises causing your jaw to drop. Your stunned reaction spurred him, causing his smile to widen and his eyes to glow brighter as the whites of his eyes began to blacken.

“….woah.” You say under your breath.

The man chuckled, “(c) Ou dwe padone Gambit, cheri (You must pardon Gambit). When his eyes see somethin’ so (f)dulcet (beautiful), it be hard to hide it.”

You shook your head to refocus, “No need to apologize. This is a safe space for everyone. Just caught me off guard is all.”

You flash him a smile and a wink as he returned one to you, the whites of his eyes returning to ‘human’ version of normal and his irises became a shade of icy green.

“Nobody be lookin’ at me like dat wit’out runnin’ off. You weren’t scared?”

“Of course not. Takes a lot more than a pair of flashy eyes on a handsome face to scare me away.” You state.

He laughed as he adjusted in his seat.

“Dats good, dats good.” He said as he leaned forward on the surface of the bar.

“What are you drinking, Gambit?” You ask again.

“Sazerac. (c) Mèsi, cheri. (Thank you, darling).”

You bring the gentleman a rocks glass fixed neat with the amber-red reserve bourbon. He gingerly raised the glass to his nose, inhaling the oak wood barrel scent with hints of cherry, caramel, apples, and tobacco.

He hummed with satisfaction, “(c) Manyifik (Magnificent).”

You nod, then turn to walk away.

“Remy.” You hear him call to you.

“Pardon?” You say as you turn back to him.

“The name’s Remy LaBeau.” He reiterated cooly after taking a sip from his glass.

He averted his eyes to you, awaiting your name. You grin back.

“Y/F/N.”

“(c) Kontan rankontre ou, Y/F/N (Pleased to meet you).”

You feel your face go red as you laugh nervously.

“Same.” You managed to say before scurrying to the other end of the bar to wait on other customers.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Remy sat quietly in his spot at the bar the entire evening, only ever looking up from his deck of Mavericks to catch a glance of you as you pass him. The crowd started to thin out as last call was announced.

“One for the road, Remy?”

He beamed at you, “Oui, cheri. If you join me for one.”

You smile coyly, “I gotta close up, chief. How about this; I’ll bring you another Sazerac on the house, and I’ll take a rain check?”

You see the magenta glimmer in his eyes again.

“I like the soun’ of dat, cheri.”

You smile and nod then turn to the counter behind you to prepare his drink. You set it in front of him as he placed a $100 in front of you.

“You only had two. That’s too much.”

“(c) Pran li (Take it). For your generosity an’ da company.” Remy insisted.

You beam at him, “(c) Ou twò janti (You’re too kind).”

He stood up from his stool, and fixed his collar on his leather trench.

“Until next time, mon cher.” He said smiling while standing tall opposite you.

“Orevwa, Remy. I’ll see you around.” You reply sweetly as you feel your cheeks heat up again.

“(c) Mwen pwomèt ou pral (I promise you will).” He purred in his heavy honeyed Cajun accent.

He bowed, then turned on his heel to exit the bar. You released a deep exhale as if you hadn’t taken a breath since having met him that night.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

*I know this was a short one and I plan on a chapter 2. I’m just dipping my toe in the water here to see what feedback I get* 🥰

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

“What is it with this daddy shit?”

- David Bowie

[itsstillsweetiebythealtar]

Recently watched The Skeleton Key again and was not too pleased with how Hoodoo was portrayed (especially with them saying it started in Louisiana, Hoodoo started throughout the south simultaneously). I’m noticing that the more and more I watch a movie, the more I kinda be like.. why did they portray it like that??

But I wanted to ask all of my ATR practitioners out there, hoodoo, voodoo, lucumi, isese, santeria, obeah, etc., have you ever watched a movie and felt as if your practice was portrayed in its authentic and complex form??

[vomitspit2]

[st4rbe0m]

I have a bunch of ideas up for my next few fics!! I'll be posting their teasers after this poll, so I'd like to hear which one you guys would like to see released first :))

edit: here's the banners for the fics in the meantime!! their word counts will mostly be between 5-10K but maybe i might exceed it by a bit too depending on the fic itself :)

[houseofcatwic]

[ebster777]

Wicked City

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

john constantine doctor fate raven and zatanna will be the new reader family that uses voodoo because my baby deserves better

(I've haven't written about my girl in awhile and you guys really liked her in the other fic so here she is lol)

When you first met the magic users of Gotham or the Teen Titans, it confused you just a little. You were a young priestess in training, meant to take after your mother to be the next high priestess and worship your loa. Your magic was tied to your religion and beliefs: making offerings to your loa, praying to your loa, and doing dances to make the loa happy, and bathing to expel all evil from your talisman, making sure that the purple gem shimmered and shined like no other. But with Zatanna and Constantine, you thought they abused their magic; they had no spiritual ties like you did. For a long time, you thought Raven was a loa, but when you pulled on her cape, you realized she was actually alive and not a spirit. It made you feel silly, but there was a magical aura in you that was so bright it could never seem to dim. It shone like no other until it didn't—until you fell down the route of despair and stopped taking care of your talisman, letting the jewel turn a dark purple, your aura growing dim and your magic losing all its light. That’s when Raven invited you to do some mediation and begged you to take better care of yourself, seeing that if you went down this path of anger and sadness, it scared her because she was once just like you. She read up all she could about Vodou and practiced some rituals with you just so that amulet could glow once again. Zatanna has now become a sister to you, showing you little magic tricks that make you laugh. Her purple eyes glimmer when she sees the darkness being extracted from your gem; a girl as pretty as you should never be sad. Constantine makes it his business to check up on you; he'll drag you out of bed and make you go out and feel the sun. He's tired of those evil spirits feeding on your soul. He'll try his very best not to make you feel alone, and it works. You'll give him a smile or two. Dr. Fate might just be your favorite out of them all. He's a serious and stoic man, but deep down, he's a big softy and loves to know more about you and your loa and your supreme God. You'll show him all the magic you know and are still learning, since you're just a priestess in training. You offered to do a ceremonial dance for him, and he was intrigued. You looked so beautiful moving around in that white dress with your hair tied back. It was a dance to celebrate the loa Ayida-Weddo, and for that, you had to flow like water while also moving like a snake. In the end, you taught him a step or two, even though he wasn't the best dancer.

[mastergurudev]

Get expert black magic and voodoo removal in Edmonton. Consult with a psychic reader and ex-love back specialist to restore peace and love in your life.

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[brewscoop]

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[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. <- click here for more!

❦

A RIM-SHOT.

D'ANGELO x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Essence gets a shot at D'Angelo, her long-time instrument-playing crush who played a local club she frequents. ✨

❦

𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 and her sister Erin sat at a table in the front row of the poetry and neo-soul club as they watched the band perform, both of their focuses on different instrumentalists while Essence gently tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song playing underneath the table.

the club was more of an African American club, and i say this because mostly Black folks were seen visiting it. sure, some earthy-looking white women visited occasionally to enjoy the sounds of catchy soul and smooth poetry slams, but the club was more of a safe space for Black people, especially since all of the employees and the performers were black.

the owner? black. the bartender? black. the instrumentalists? black. the singers? black. the poets? black.

it was a black-owned business with black employees, black visitors, black performers, and black instrument players, and Lord knows you'd never find that anywhere else but there.

"you think i could transform into a drum set, Erin?" Essence rhetorically asked, resting her hand underneath her chin, as the sisters locked eyes and Erin let out a soft chuckle.

"as long as i can transform into a guitar." Erin joked, a playful smile on her face, as Essence cracked a smile and let out a soft laugh while their dark brown eyes averted back to the stage in sync.

the drummer of the band on stage was D'Angelo, also referred to at times as just 'D'. he was one of the reasons why Essence was a consistent visitor at the peaceful club. he was an extremely attractive man, and nobody in the room could deny that. from his neat and slightly lengthy black cornrows, his caramel and seemingly smooth skin, and his gorgeous and hypnotizing brown eyes to his beautiful aura, his calming energy, and his enticing and slightly raspy vocals; it was clear as day that he was definitely one of God's favorites.

Essence hadn't made a move on the brown-skinned man yet, and honestly, she didn't know why. she wasn't a very shy woman and approaching a man she wanted wasn't hard for her to do, but for some odd reason, she hesitated on approaching D'Angelo. sure, he was intimidating and he made her nervous, but that never stopped her before, so it confused her and her sister why she hadn't pursued the drummer yet.

as for Erin, the guitarist she was fawning over was none other than André, referred to as André 3000, Dré, and sometimes just 3000, and he was also stunning as well. Erin wasn't as bold as Essence, so it was understandable why she hadn't approached him yet, but she wanted to grow out of her shy ways and pursue the man she wanted, which is what she said she'd do tonight, and this caused a deal to brew up between her and Essence.

the two made a deal that they both had to let go of their anxiety and timidness and approach the men they secretly adored, which Essence agreed to without a second thought. the goal was to spark up a conversation and get their numbers, but if it went further than that, it'd be extra points for the two.

ending up in their beds wasn't the achievement they were going for, but if they got that far, they wouldn't complain about it. it'd just push them further into wanting to seal the deal they had agreed upon the night before.

—

"you takin' that shot because you want it or because you need somethin' to make you bold?" Essence asked, raising a brow, as she watched Erin down a shot of Vodka and Erin slightly cringed at the sensation of the strong liquor going down her throat while she gently cleared her throat.

"both," Erin croaked, lightly hitting her chest, as she signaled the bartender over to refill her shot glass and Essence laughed while she sipped on her strawberry margarita, "don't worry 'bout me tho', tell me how you gon' approach D."

"i still ain't figured that out." Essence mumbled, letting out a soft chuckle, as she fiddled with a few of her black locs and Erin raised a brow at her before chuckling, downing her shot and biting down on her bottom lip to keep her from making a face while she wiped the corners of her mouth.

"girl, you ain't got a lot of time to try and figure that out. you shoulda' had that planned out last night," Erin chuckled, shaking her head, as she sat down her shot glass and stood up from her stool, "i see André's off stage, so i'm 'bout to go holla' at him before this liquor wears off. i wish you luck in gettin' ya drummer boy, Essie."

"and i wish you luck in gettin' ya guitarist, E." Essence smiled, playfully winking towards her, as Erin sent a wink back and walked away from the bar, going towards wherever her dream man was while Essence turned around to face the bar and swirled her straw in her glass.

maybe if she would've gotten something stronger than a margarita she'd be able to approach D'Angelo like Erin approached André, but she hated the taste and smell of strong liquor so that option was quickly thrown out of the window. sinking into her overthinking, Essence rested her hand against her jaw as she stared at the counter and slipped her slim black straw between her plump lips, sipping the rest of the margarita in her cocktail glass while she tried to come up with a way that she could imitate Erin's actions and go up to her crush.

she didn't know how she'd do it, but she knew she'd bag her dream man tonight. however, she believed it would be much easier for her to pursue him if he acknowledged her first.

"what'll ya have, sir?"

"i'll take a glass of Whisky. and refill this pretty lady's glass with whatever she had before. put all that on my tab." the familiar silky voice made Essence's ears prick up, and she snapped out of her thoughts as she watched the bartender pick up her glass and the dark-skinned woman averted her eyes to the person next to her, signaling for Essence to look at the person who was seated beside her.

turning her head, Essence's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets as she stared at D'Angelo, a small warm smile on his face while a soft blush coated Essence's brown-skinned face once she realized he had referred to her as "this pretty lady." the way he randomly appeared next to her and acknowledged her was like the universe had read her mind, and if it did, she wasn't complaining.

"a great drummer and a gentleman? i think the men in here got some competition," Essence joked, raising her brows, as D'Angelo let out a laugh and Essence giggled before holding out her manicured hand, "i'm Essence, but some people call me Essie for short."

"i'm D'Angelo, but i'm sure you knew that already," D'Angelo chuckled softly, shaking her hand, as he brought her hand up to his lips and gently kissed each of her knuckles, "so you think i'm a good drummer, huh?"

"good is an understatement if we're referring to you. sometimes i come here just to hear you play," Essence smiled, the blush on her face starting to intensify, as the bartender came back to the adults with their drinks and the both of them thanked her at once before she smiled and walked away to let them continue their conversation, "when did you learn how to play the drums?"

"when i was 12. when i was younger, i was exposed to a lot of soul music and i saw a lot of black people who played instruments, and that made me wanna be one of 'em, y'know what i'm sayin'? i started wantin' to learn to play the piano, the guitar, the saxophone — all'at. but when i found the drums... that's when i knew i found what i truly wanted to play," D'Angelo explained, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, as Essence nodded her head and took a sip of her drink, "now, don't get me wrong, i can play all of that, but my favorite is definitely the drums. if it wasn't the drums, i'd probably be playin' the piano, not gon' lie."

"i used to play the piano at my church when i was 13. i joined a band at my school so i could continue playin' it and after i graduated, i forgot all about my passion for it until i came here," Essence chuckled, watching the male across from her take a sip of his brown liquor, as she absentmindedly ran her tongue over her lips and tingles spread up her arm once she realized her hand was still in his grasp, "you gon' get me jumped in here like half of these women not feenin' for you, D."

"half of these women only want me 'cause they think i'm attractive. i ain't worried about them. i'm worried about you," D'Angelo chuckled, licking the excess alcohol from his lips, as he sat his glass down and his brown eyes slyly flickered between Essence's eyes and lips, "you always come here by ya'self? or you come here with ya man?"

"that's your way of checkin' to see if i'm in a relationship, huh? so you a great drummer, a gentleman, and smooth... a lil' sweet-talker, ain't you?" Essence joked, a small smirk on her face, as she raised her brow and D'Angelo laughed, causing her to laugh with him, "but, nah, i don't have a man. i come here with my sister Erin."

Essence nodded her head towards Erin, causing D'Angelo to look over at her sibling, as the two looked at Erin and André and watched them flirt with one another, making both of them chuckle while they turned their attention back to one another.

"does likin' instrumentalists run in the family?" D'Angelo joked, raising a brow, as Essence laughed and picked up her drink, taking a sip of it while she removed the straw from her lips and sat it back down.

"we like what we like... and i like drummers with cornrows." Essence flirted, an enticing smirk crossing her face, as a smirk crept onto D'Angelo's face and the atmosphere around them suddenly filled with sexual tension, causing Essence's pupils to slightly dilate in lust while she lightly squeezed D'Angelo's hand.

"yeah?" D'Angelo smirked, scooting closer to her, as Essence raised a brow at him before mimicking his actions, their legs resting against each other while D'Angelo's hand trailed up her arm, "well, i like pianists with locs."

"you do, huh? you got a piano at ya crib, D?" Essence smirked, picking up her glass, as she wrapped her lips around the straw and drank the rest of the liquor in the glass.

"is that your way of askin' to come home with me?"

"maybe."

—

"ooh, nice place. i see you do a lil' decoratin' on the side." Essence complimented, a small smile on her face, as D'Angelo chuckled and closed and locked the door behind them, looking over at her while he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"thank you, beautiful. i got a lil' music room in here too, that's where all my instruments and stuff at." D'Angelo added, guiding her down the hallway, as Essence raised her brows and looked up at him.

"you got a piano in there?"

"see for yourself."

opening the door of the room, a smile crossed Essence's face once she saw D'Angelo's customized drum set but her smile widened once she saw his piano, an abrupt squeal coming from her while she walked over to it.

"oh, my Godddd, it looks like one from my high school!" Essence exclaimed, a large smile on her face, as she pulled out the wide leather piano bench and sat down on it, looking over at D'Angelo and patting the spot next to her, "c'mere. i'ma play sum' for you."

"yeah? what'chu gon' play?" D'Angelo chuckled, smiling at her enthusiasm, as he walked over to her and sat down next to her.

"listen and see." Essence playfully smirked, gently nudging the man with her elbow, as she cracked her knuckles and D'Angelo laughed at her playfulness, earning a giggle from Essence before she positioned her hands above the piano keys and began playing.

as Essence played, a wide toothy grin crept across D'Angelo's face once he realized she was playing "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, and Essence noticed his realization when she glanced over at him, causing her to let out a soft chuckle.

"i know you know the words, drummer boy. sing a lil' sum' for me." Essence smiled, looking over at him, as their eyes locked and D'Angelo's brows raised once he realized she could play the piano without looking at it, making a small playful smirk cross her face while she raised her brows as well.

along with drumming, sometimes D'Angelo sang at the club as well, so not only did Essence fall in love with his instrument-playing, she fell in love with his skillful vocals as well.

D'Angelo let out a soft chuckle and listened to her play as he slowly caught the rhythm of her fingers on the keys and gently cleared his throat, preparing his voice to sing while his eyes gradually shut.

"LEAN ON ME, WHEN YOU'RE NOT STRONG, AND I'LL BE YOUR FRIEND," D'Angelo sang, his brows slightly furrowing in concentration, as Essence smiled widely at him and lightly nodded her head to his voice, continuing to play the piano while she looked at the singing man next to her, "I'LL HELP YOU CARRY ON. FOR IT WON'T BE LONG, 'TIL I'M GONNA NEED SOMEBODY TO LEAN ON."

"okayyy, i see you! you better sang, boy!" Essence joked, giggling, as D'Angelo let out a laugh and shook his head while Essence's piano playing gradually came to an end, "teach me how to play the drums."

"right now?" D'Angelo asked, raising his brows at her, as Essence took her fingers off the piano keys and wiped her palms on her bootcut blue jeans.

"yeah, right now. i played the piano for you, i deserve to be taught how to play the drums." Essence pouted, lightly poking out her bottom lip, as D'Angelo chuckled and shook his head, standing up from the bench and grabbing the woman's hand.

"c'mon. i'ma teach you, pretty," D'Angelo led the woman over to his drum set by her hand and pulled out the drum throne that was seated by the bass drum, "sit right here. i'ma go get another chair so i can sit behind you and show you."

"behind me?" Essence asked, her face slightly twisting up in confusion, as D'Angelo chuckled and walked back over to her with a chair in his hand, sitting it behind her while he gripped the sides of the drum throne and pushed closer to the drum set.

"yeah, behind you, Ess'. i gotta' guide you, don't i?" D'Angelo chuckled, sitting in the wooden chair behind her, as he scooted closer to her and grabbed the drumsticks that were resting on the snare drum, placing one in both of her hands while he nudged her right thigh with his knee, "put your foot right there on that drum pedal. that's how you'll hit that bass drum down there."

"okay so, here's what you're gonna do..." D'Angelo held Essence's hands as he instructed her how to create rhythmic beats, his arms resting on top of hers and his broad chest pressed up against her back as his head nestled on her right shoulder. as she listened to his instructions, she couldn't help but zone out as he spoke to her, drowning in the sexually intrusive thoughts that were beginning to cloud her mind.

with the smell of his cologne flooding her nose and his minty breath fanning her neck, Essence's mind was filled with thoughts so raunchy and vulgar that she couldn't bring herself to say them out loud, and to be honest, she didn't want to say them out loud. she could feel his body heat radiate off of his toned upper body and onto hers, and it only fueled the fire that was secretly growing inside her lower region.

who knew teaching someone how to play the drums could be so intimate?

"...you got that, ma?" hearing this, Essence was knocked out of her thoughts and she looked to her right, seeing D'Angelo look up at her while awaiting her answer to his question. as she looked into his eyes and he looked into hers, the room was gradually filled with sexual tension, and it was very similar to the tension the two felt at the club, but since they were alone, it seemed much stronger than before.

Essence's eyes flickered between D'Angelo's eyes and lips, causing him to mirror her actions, as his head rose from her shoulder and moved closer to her face, their lips inches apart while Essence's breathing softly hitched in her throat. she looked between his eyes and lips for a final time before smashing her lips onto his, capturing his lips in a passionate lip-lock while he returned the favor. D'Angelo's hands and arms were still touching hers and his chest was still pressed up against her back, and it seemed to only increase the burning flame of desire inside of the brown-skinned woman in front of him as she squeezed her thighs together and the drumsticks abruptly slipped from her grasp, the wooden sticks hitting the floor while D'Angelo gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

slipping out of his grip, Essence turned around on the drum throne, her lips still engaged with his, and she cupped his face in her hands as her acrylics ran over his chiseled jawline, making a soft grunt come from his lips while his hands rested on her thighs and caressed them through her jeans.

"got a bedroom you can fuck me in or you wanna make some music together?" Essence mumbled in the kiss, a small smirk crossing her face, as D'Angelo let out a soft chuckle and smirked with her before standing up and picking her up from the drum throne, her legs instinctively wrapping around his slim waist while he carried her over to the red loveseat near his guitars and recording booth.

"Let's make some music, baby."

[icequeenbae]

Have a nice read and hold on, bestie. You will be raised from the ashes! 😂🖤

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Pairing: wolf!Baekhyun x caracal!Reader

Hybrid AU, slice of life, some fluff, PWP, smut

Warnings: altered mental state (in a way?), Baek snapped, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, knotting, cross-breeding?

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You’d been pretty stressed at work lately, so your boyfriend decided to bring something special to help you unwind.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

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