#he is a sweetheart and also a little demon who likes to chew on people

[hylianengineer]

My mom is sending texts about how my poor, sweet, traumatized dog - who was abandoned and almost certainly abused as a puppy - had a freak out at the vet and now they have to find a trainer who specializes in doggy PTSD. It's weird, because he did not used to be that scared of the vet, and he's even on anxiety meds now, but apparently anxious, traumatized dogs usually need training (sounds like doggy therapy to me) or they just keep getting worse over time. I feel so bad for him, I can't stop drawing parallels to me and my anxiety disorder and what a mess I was as a teenager - which, he's two years old, so he kinda is in dog terms? I just wanna hug him so bad but I am not at my parent's house and also dogs don't usually like hugs the way humans do and I don't wanna make him feel trapped. Poor furball.

[circeyoru]

In love with the idea of Bambi being a total sweetheart to reader, nuisance to residents of the hotel, and a nightmare for Al.

Like I can just see Al thinking he 'won' against Bambi, only to later go into his radio tower and it be a mess.

The settings and dials are all off, multiple things are unplugged or the cord is just chewed through, and blood or little bodies everywhere.

I'm also cracking up over reader mentioning cats supposedly leave bodies for people they care about to make sure they eat. Al getting offended the cat thinks he's incompetent, and Bambi upset you think he likes Al at ALL.

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

For those that have no idea who Bambi is, that's what I named the Cursed Cat Alastor after an ask's subtle suggestion so we don't mix him with Alastor.

Yup, I see a lot of playful but violent banters between the two when it comes to getting your attention and affection. It turned into a bit of a competition later on even though Alastor as more than enough of your feelings. Hello? You confessed already! Never enough, for him. If he can have more, he'll have more

Reader/you know about Bambi's attitude to others when you weren't around, you're not stupid to ignore the apparent favouritism. It was just funny so you didn't do much.

Interestingly, you never see the dead body or body parts that Bambi left for you. It's because you made it very clear that nothing was to dirty your room, to the point that Alastor's (raw) meals and hunting ground weren't designed like he had before you lived with him in the hotel. Bambi's smart to pick up on that since it wouldn't dare make you angry.

So where do the body parts and bodies go? The hotel kitchen, especially when Alastor's there preparing your meals or snacks or desserts.

I imagine everyone staring wide-eyed and clearing the path when Bambi came back dragging a demon body by the neck (that was definitely way bigger than its size) through the doors. Niffty quickly cleaned the trail of blood. Their eyes followed Bambi to the kitchen where Alastor soon emitted annoyed and offended radio static.

"I am perfectly capable of attaining ingredients for My Beloved without your help!"

"Meow!!!"

"And I am not sharing credits with you!"

"Meow!!!!!!"

"Alastor, when's food ready?" You peeked into the kitchen

Alastor beamed, "A moment, My Darling!"

"Oh, Bambi's here. That his meal?"

"Why yes, it was decent enough to hunt for itself I suppose."

"Meow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Another day in the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie and the others are still amazed that you can handle Alastor, but now they're even more shocked to see you handle this cursed cat version of Alastor as well.

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

[lillian-nator]

please do more backyard au hcs this sounds lovely

PEOPLE AND AGES - Tommy (5) Kindergarten - Techno (11) 6th grade - wilbur (18) Senior - Tubbo (4) Kindergarten - Schlatt (19) Just Graduated, goes to Community college - SapNap (7) First grade - Punz (13) 7th grade - Dream (12) 8th grade - Gogy (15) Sophomore - Ranboo (6) Kindergarten - Fundy (15) Freshman - Niki (16) junior - Puffy (17) Senior - Purpled (5) Kindergarten - Big Q (14) 8th grade - Karl (13) 7th grade ----------------------- SPECIES AND RELATIONSHIPS (put into friend groups) - Tubbo (Ram, Schlatt's son) - Tommy (Racoon) - Ranboo (enderman, kind of a street kid) - Purpled (Purple Sheep, Dream and Puffy's younger brother) - SapNap (Demon, Bad's son, Punz's baby brother)

- Techno (Piglin) - Dream (Ram, Puffy's younger brother) - Punz (demon) - Gogy  (Mooshroom) - Big Q (Duck) - Karl (Parrot hybrid)

- Wilbur (Blue Jay) - Schlatt (Ram) - Puffy (sheep - Schlatt's cousin) - Niki (fish? mermaid?) - Fundy (Fox) ----------------------- I think that Philza minecraft just slowly keeps finding kids in his backyard, and he slowly grows very attached to all of them Just like every afternoon his backyard is FLOODED with kids And he doesn’t understand why he’s the house everyone goes to, but he’ll feed them He just slowly finds himself being really endeared by each of them ------------------- And before he knows it, Phil’s warning SapNap and Ranboo away from the water, and balancing Purpled and Tommy on his hips And he knows all their allergies And all their favorite foods And he’s keeping track of the high schoolers grades, bringing Dream, punz, and techno to their games  ----------------- CARPOOL SOCCER MOM Mr. Philza Minecraft --------------------- Dream: Basketball Punz: Football Techno: Baseball Puffy: Softball Small children: Baby Soccer -------------------------- - Phil keeps track of all of boys'  games and practices. Because goddamn it, these kids deserve some sort of parental guidance - Dream, purpled, and Puffy don’t have present parents - Puffy had to step up to the plate - Ranboo’s a street kid - No one really knows if he has anyone - Bad just chilling in hell ---------------------------- Schlatt is really working himself thin, but he tries hard, he really does And everyone can see how much he loves Tubbo Sometimes Phil will wake up and see schlatt passed out on their couch. He got off at midnight But as soon as he gets home from work, Tubbo is immediately in his Dad’s arms Schlatt animatedly talking to the boy But you can just see how much love he has for his boy He’s just a bit too young to bare the burden alone ------------------------------ And the thing is, is that all of these kids are so like, independent Like Phil just needs to feed them And tend to the youngest ones every so often ------------------------------- I think it’s like musical chairs To see who’s sleeping at Phil’s house in the morning Like - who’s on the couch? An air mattress? Guest bed? Sharing a room with one of his kids? All of the small children like to pile around SapNap, who is also a small child, cause he’s warm Punz also always has children flocking him ------------------------------- Punz is also that teen who throws the kids in the pool he cant go into the water himself, prefering to lay on the grass and in the sun, but he does love just chucking kids in ------------------------------- Phil drives a beat up mini van. It’s baby blue It's always filled to the brim with passengers very dirty many crumbs has balls just thrown in it all the time Footballs, basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls it fucking smells, we all know it does Phil owns like 4 of those kid car seats despite only having one kid in that age group ---------------------------- Also if you couldn't tell Niki basically lives in the pool she's a fish hybrid so its a salt water pool instead of chlorine because its better for Niki --------------------------- Tommy, Tubbo, purpled, Ranboo, and SapNap play baby soccer its the best part of this au It’s so adorable, and Tommy picks at flowers the entire time Sometimes. Ranboo will come and entertain him for a little. Try and get him back in the game. He gives up when Tommy sits down tho Ranboo will more often then not join Tommy cause mmmm grass Tubbo is insanely competitive as a little kid we been knew though When he gets older Tommy gets really into it But as a baby He just chases bugs Plus he’s a raccoon hybrid, so shiny ------------------------ HE HOARDS SHIT UNDER HIS BED IS A MESS he as in fucking baby racoon Tommy whats the word for baby racoon small baby kit Phil 1000% calls him kit BABY RAMS ARE CALLED BUCKS FUCKING EVERYONE CALLS TUBBO "BUCK" THATS SO CUTE IM LOSING MY SHIT Things go lost? Go check tommys room Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom Very much like - Phil has to have a talk with him about it And he’s like “ I know you feel like you have to take them Kit, but they’re not yours” “If you want it, just ask me and I’m

sure we can figure something out.” Tommy also loses interest as soon as he gains it tho Tommy chitters at them They nod liek they understand and go “Uh huh, sounds mighty interesting Kit,” And then they pick him and let him climb around them -------------------------------- So much rough housing like SO much they're hybrids man Tommy also teethes ok. Chews on shit when his canines grow in so does Techno, and SapNap, and Punz (Punz and Techno's canines already grew in though, but they still chew on shit) The rams Rub their heads against stuff Head Itchy ------------------------------- A lot of Phil’s days off are just spent by the babies, just who are growing in hybrid traits He scratches Tubbo, sapnaps, and Puroled heads They’re all growing in horns Gives Tommy things to chew on Purpled. Never gets full horns. They are always little stubs just barely sticking out of his hair. His ears looks more human than ram too. Just for some reason never really grew into his hybrid traits And purple eyes He gets so upset about it too, when Tubbos horns outgrow his, because he’s older He’s a bit different. But it’s like being brunette in a family of blondes. It’s not unheard of He just is tearing up and Phil is just like “oh Bud, come ‘ere” They're like 8 And Tommy just gives Purpled the biggest hug, because Tommy is a sweetheart as a kid ------------------- I think that even the older kids wrestle Like obviously Dream, Techno and the rest of the middle school gang do Because they’re so fucking competitive Dream is so quick to just. Grab someone and wrestle them to the floor No warning But like, you’ll catch Wilbur and Schlatt jumping at each other Or Wilbur throwing Fundy over his shoulder Or anyone just man handling gogy ------------------- Phil gets to a point where he calls them all his kids And asks where they are when they aren’t At his house ------------------------ Puffy bringing them (Dream and Purpled) over after school. They go outside and play. Puffy sighs and collapses at the dining table. Phil silently hands her a coffee. “I’ll keep em busy” he says “you get some homework done” She looks up, and puts her head in her hand, “Dream has basketball practice in an hour” Phil just pats  her on the back. “I got it.” ----------------- Also let’s talk about how much food Phil needs to buy Like even if it’s just lunch That’s like 15 growing boys He can afford it, He just has to watch out for allergies He buys so many fucking snacks man Whole damn store He goes through like crates of those little chip variety packs Tubbo only likes the crunchy Cheetos Tommy likes barbecue Niki likes salt and vinegar Punz likes Doritos He knows which ones they all like I’m just imagining Phil calling out for the kids And they’re like lining out of the kitchen Oldest to youngest so that Phil can help the little ones They can eat anywhere in the yard, but Ohil has the little ones eat at the picnic table They’re all dripping wet from coming out of the pool, and he needs to make sure they eat their fruit and popsicles, they have tons of popsicles. ------------------ Phil totally takes Dad tax Like a chip from every plate And a tatertot from each breakfast very dad of him to do ------------------- Not not Phil kissing each of their foreheads goodbye And “drive safe” And “have a good day" ------------------ He’ll still pick up Texhno And Dream and Punz, right by the armpits And tucks them into bed ----------------- Tommy when he gets wet He loves swimming but the poor baby: his fur It’s hard to get him in the water but once he’s in it’s hard to get him out Because he feels all heavy and sticky afterwards ------------------ Adventures in the woods TOMMY IN HID NATURAL HABITAT Small boy makes hidey hole You may be asking Does. Does Tommy crunch on the leaves He does Like on ever y single one Carefully -------------------- All of the little kids And even technos group Just bonk heads Because of the goats They all just do it Sometimes softly Sometimes roughly Techno always does it roughly tho Rough houser Dream doesn’t mind Makes it feel like he has a

herd Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates - Small boy And puffy has outgrown it But a young piglin brute? Perfect playmate. ------------------------- AND THATS THE AU YOU'RE WELCOME

[ivy-fawley]

→  diagon  alley  is  home  to  many  ,  a  direct  connection  to  the  wizarding  world  ,  right  in  the  centre  of  london  ,  many  people  like IVERSON "IVY" FAWLEY  ,  spend  majority  of    her   time  in  the  busy  alley  ,  people  know  her  as  the  TWENTY THREE year  old  who  is  a  HUFFLEPUFF  graduate  ,  now  working   in  family services ,  i  think  the  role  suits  them  perfectly  as  i  think  they  are  VIVACIOUS  but  also  they  can  be  TENACIOUS  ,  but  that's  just  my  opinion  .  || playlist ||

→ NAME: iverson “ivy” adelyn fawley → NICKNAMES: ivy, ives, glitter girl, glitter demon, that bitch with the glitter → AGE / D.O.B.: 23 / 7 january  → SPECIES: pureblood witch  → GENDER / PRONOUNS: cisfemale / she&her  → SEXUALITY: lesbian  → RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single as hell (and cute as a button)

FAMILY  → PARENTS: Francis & Delilah Fawley → SIBLINGS: ? → COUSINS:  ? → PETS: clyde, long-eared owl she brought home 6th year because ‘he’s got the cutest little hoot, listen, listen’ ‘hooo’ ‘😍‘

LIFESTYLE  → BORN: edinburgh, scotland  → RAISED: grassmarket, edinburgh, scotland   → CURRENT RESIDENCE: hogsmeade, scotland  → NATIONALITY: scottish  → SPOKEN LANGUAGES: english and jock (not a real language, but try telling her that)  → OCCUPATION: family services - ministry of magic (like wizard cps)  → DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: occasionally, occasionally, occasionally → RELIGION: god is a woman and heaven is whatever you want to be 

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES → FACE CLAIM: alexxis lemire  → HEIGHT: 5ft. 4 in.  → WEIGHT: 110 lbs  → BUILD: petite, lightly toned muscles  → HAIR: long, brown, usually curled, falls past her (natural) waist  → EYE COLOR: brown  → DOMINANT HAND: right  → SCENT: sweet pea and peonie  → NERVOUS HABITS: paces, crosses and uncrosses her legs, start stops a thousand sentences, tears up, chews the ends of her hair

CHARACTER  → MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good  → MBTI: enfp  → WESTERN ZODIAC: capricorn (that’s the goat mermaid alek, like reg)  → SONG: belter - gerry cinnamon

MAGIC  → WAND: blue spruce, phoenix feather, 10 ¼", swishy  → PATRONUS: st bernard  → BOGGART:  la la la I can’t hear you

BIO

ivy is a sweetheart or a menace

it really depends on who you ask

and how that person feels abut glitter

also ... how you feel about glitter

because girl has ALWAYS got at least a thin dusting of glitter on her person at all times.

ivy is a real go-getter, and one of those people who always seems to be busy

she takes on 2345678 tasks per week - some paid, some not - and between work, volunteering, and having a social life, its a wonder she’s still alive to live her life at all

she is always ready with a kind heart and open ears and sofa

and she loves to bake - just LOOKING at her is enough to make her want to, but the look in your eyes will tell her if you need sad sweets or happy treats.

was and is still incredibly obsessed with Quidditch, and did want to go pro, however Ivy was of the opinion that she couldn’t do enough to help people from a broom, and that she’d always feel guilty

she found her way into an abhorrently understaffed department, and likes to think that she’s making a difference in kids’ lives, and for their families.

The Fawleys are old, and they have plenty of money, but luckily are not consequential enough these days to warrant as much scrutiny (at home or in public) as so many of Ivy’s peers, and therefore she has been freer than some, to make mistakes and live her life loudly

and colorfully

And i do mean colorfully because she bedazzles and glitters everything she can

Ivy is NEUTRAL and wants absolutely fucking nothing to do with either "side" of the war. She loves people on both and if she pretends hard enough maybe the war will just be over

Ivy and Ivy have matching poison ivy tattoos (Iverson’s is on her left arm, Ivette's on her right) and absolutely come as a set, including but not limited to sitting together in classes, and holding hands and carrying pancakes together

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL GIRL GANG - Pandora, Doris, Alie, Lily, Mary, Ivy, and Ivy are adorable and precious and unstoppable and you will not convince any of them otherwise

the ivy league is 100000000% a collection of ivys and they are unstoppable 

 to be an ivy, you need to: be an ivy, be ivy adjacent, or ask

Ithere will be more at some point there always is

[demonologistfucker]

WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning. 

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC. 

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes. 

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind. 

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance. 

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over. 

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth. 

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.” 

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.” 

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression. 

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before. 

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises. 

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them. 

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement. 

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh. 

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction. 

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles. 

“Not worried about your safety?” 

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,” 

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too. 

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice. 

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

    “Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC. 

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic. 

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh. 

 “The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

    “The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

    “Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine. 

    “Then what is it?” 

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole. 

���Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“ 

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk. 

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read. 

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?” 

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed. 

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel. 

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement. 

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger. 

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.” 

“That’s fair,” MC nods. 

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all? 

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot. 

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away. 

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them. 

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off. 

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven. 

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified. 

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way. 

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils. 

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.” 

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon. 

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself. 

“Me too,”

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 4

Alastor got up early the next morning with the intent of making you breakfast before your romp through the city. It’s a trait he got from his mother. Whenever he was sick or down or angry or particularly joyful, her love came pouring through to him in the form of food. He’s always thought it was the greatest devotion one could demonstrate. Good food, the kind that lifts the spirits and makes you feel warm some place deep, takes time and care and patience and love. And only people who deserve it get food like that.

Today he woke up with the vision of you eating his mother’s beignets, so he started planning out everything he would need as he walked into the kitchen.

“Heya, smiles,” came the still slurred words of Angel Dust.

Alastor’s shoulders tense but he refuses to show his discomfort any further. Although it probably wouldn’t have mattered, Angel was clearly still drunk from whatever party he had snuck out to last night. He probably couldn’t tell right from left at this point.

“Good morning.”

“You l-look... You look sexy.” Angel flops over onto the table and groans. Fat Nuggets nudges his ankles and makes a concerned oink.

Alastor rolls his eyes and slides the waste bin over to him with a flick of his fingers. 

“You look like you’re about to ruin the floors. For my sake, Nifty’s, and your dear sister, you’ll aim for the bin.”

Angel picks up the bin and squishes it against his cheek, hugging it like a baby. The little pig at his feet whines again and plops on the floor, sulking.

Alastor waves his hand and the ingredients begin to fly around the room, arranging themselves on the counter for him to get to work.

“Who ya lookin’... dressin’ sexy for? My sistah? YoU wanna get l-lucky with ma sistah?”

At once the eggs and milk that were still levitating in the air fall to the ground. The milk sloshes everywhere and the eggs land with a loud crack. Fat Nuggets squeals and hides under the table. Alastor’s shoulders arch and the bag of flour that was in his hand explodes from the grip of his fist. The flour cakes Alastor’s suit, hair, and face, thankfully hiding the vibrant red of his cheeks. If Angel had seen just how bright his cheeks were at the thought of... “getting lucky” with (Y/N), he would never be able to live it down.

“Oh my goodness!” Your voice, like music to Alastor’s ears, floats through the air but for once he is less than thrilled.

Alastor scrambles. He whips around and takes in the sight of you in this absolutely darling red dress with black flowers embroidered into the skirt, your hair was perfectly done up, ready for your day with him and here he is, messing up your kitchen. 

“What happened here?” You ask, your eyes lingering on the cracked eggs and then the flour caking his shoes. He must look like a complete wreck, absolutely putrid.

Before he can even begin to stumble out an excuse, Angel decides to open that big fat mouth of his.

“S-Smiles here was makin’ ya breakfast,” Angel sings. You roll your eyes.

“Angel how late were you out?”

“I’m s-still out,” he slurs, flopping onto the table unbothered by the milk that spilled there.

You groan and squeeze the bridge of your nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache that you really don’t need before meeting an Overlord. Only it’s about to get worse as you hear the excited squeal of your favorite pig.

Fat Nuggets runs and jumps at you, caking your dress in flour. But as much as you loved the dress and the confidence it gave you to be in the presence of this Rosie and... Alastor, you can’t say no to that little face.

You scoop him up in your arms and hold him like a baby. He immediately settles down, lets out as much of a sigh as he can, and relaxes in your arms.

“Hello, sweetheart,” you coo and waggle a finger in front of his nose.

Alastor’s dead heart almost dies a second time as he watches you, watches the way you coddle and care for the pig, how right you look with a baby of any sort in your arms. You tickle the pig’s tummy, causing him to squeal, and it takes everything within Alastor not to leap across the room and cradle you in his own arms. 

“I’m so terribly sorry about this, love. Let me clean this up.” Alastor kneels before you and pats the flour out of your dress. Your face flushes and you have to resist the urge to giggle at the smile he’s sending you. His pants are being ruined by the milk and yolk on the floor, but all he seems to be concerned with is you. 

It takes a lot for a man like Alastor to kneel before anyone. It’s the ultimate sign of weakness, submission. He’s just a little shorter than you when he’s like this but you have a perfect access to his jugular, could kill him in an instant, and he’d probably let you.

You smile sweetly down at him. Alastor wants to lean up and kiss you, your lips are so close like this.

“Hey! G-Give me back my baby,” Angel stands and stumbles over to you. “Go make one of your own!”

“Anthony!” “Angel!”

You both gasp and Alastor is thankful once again for the flour shielding his cheeks.

You step away from Alastor and stomp on your brother’s foot, drawing a sobering squeal from him.

“Don’t be nasty!”

Alastor sighs, mourning the ruined moment. That was a moment, right? It felt like one.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor has cleaned the entire kitchen and produced a steaming plate of beignets, although, they are hardly up to his standards. Some knockoffs of his mother’s recipe, undeserving of the honor of being held in your hand. But you both have a long day ahead of you.

“Care for one, dearest?” He holds the plate out to you, drawing you away from your whining brother. The frown on your face is instantly replaced by your glowing smile, a good sign.

“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet.” You continue to hold Fat Nuggets in one set of your arms and take a beignet with a remaining free hand. “You really didn’t have to--”

“I won’t hear it,” Alastor scolds. “It is never a chore to cook for a lovely lady.”

Your cheeks feel as though they have caught on fire. You want to come up with some witty comeback, some harmless little flirtation to diffuse the glint in his eyes and the softness of his smile. But your mind is running a blank and he’s looking at you with the most hopeful of smiles, so you take a bite. He watches you closely as you chew and take in the waves of vanilla and sugar. It’s delicious, breathtakingly delicious.

“Do you like it? It’s my mother’s recipe.” He grins and tilts his head, making him look all the more like a precious deer.

“It’s wonderful. You really outdid yourself. Would you... Would you mind showing me when we get back?”

Yes, he wants to scream. Yes, and then we can have dinner and talk about the rest of our lives together.

“I would love nothing more,” he says, in the most tender tone a man like him can muster. 

“Should we get going?” You ask, turning to the door in a foolish attempt to avoid his intensity.

“Absolutely!” Alastor hooks his arm around one of yours and tugs you close to his side.

---

The walk to Rosie’s Emporium is easy. Walking anywhere in Hell is easy when the Radio Demon has you snuggled into his side as he chats with you about the glory of Creole cuisine. You’ve implored him to teach you more about it in exchange for his own requested lessons in Italian pastry making. Although you still haven’t quite figured out why a man who notoriously hates all things sweet and sugary would want to learn about one of the richest dessert cultures ever. But like most things regarding Alastor, it’s a mystery. A cheeky mystery you can’t help but want to unravel, if it meant getting to spend an extra minute in his presence.

He has a way of making you feel so special, like a spotlight is constantly on you and deserves to be on you. And he’s one of the few men you have met in this life and the life before that never seemed to care about your weight, the width of your hips, the parts that stick out where on most they stick in. Either he doesn’t care or he sees you as nonthreatening because of it, but you can’t say you want to complain. It’s nice to get a bit of attention. 

It’s also nice to not get hassled on the streets for once. To not be hollered at because someone wants to fuck you or because someone wants to kill you. Demons clear a path for you like a rock in a stream and you know it’s all him, the mafia isn’t nearly as powerful here as it was up there. But his confidence and his glee and his power seep off of himself and into you. Another gift that comes from being so close to him.

Rosie’s Emporium reminds you of the shopping centers from when you were alive. It’s so quaint and prim and well kept that it doesn’t even look as if it belongs with the filthy buildings that surround it. The only marring detail is the black paint (although it might be dried blood, you’re not sure) crossing out the name ‘Franklin.’

“Who was Franklin,” you ask as Alastor strolls forward with a newfound fervor towards the door.

“Rosie’s dearly departed husband. Although... it’s best not to talk about that now, darling.”

Alastor throws open the door and leaves your side. As soon as he enters, the throes of women shopping and lurking swoon. They all greet him with girlish squeals and coos of his name, and it is then that you realize that him accompanying you was not really a favor for him. He wasn’t really here for you, was not concerned, just looking for a reason to get out of the stuffy hotel and into his crowd of adoring admirers.

Alastor goes on to charm the eye-batting crowd like it’s absolutely nothing, while the bricks around your heart slowly start to build themselves back up again. You’re not completely surprised. He’s always been teeth-rottenly charming and oozing charisma. That’s not the part that hurts, it’s just his nature. 

The part that hurts is that you were actually starting to feel different. That perhaps the flirting he did with you was in some way different than what these women got from him. That in some way you were, God forbid, special. But that’s far too much to ask from a man so caught up in himself and his own inflating ego. You weren’t special, just a store of validation for him to tap when he couldn’t escape here.

With your heart effectively locked back up, you have no more distractions, no more vulnerable emotions. The version of you who shot up mobsters in the streets, who poisoned and threatened men without a second shot, comes back in earnest. You steal yourself and wander towards a receptionist.

“Hello,” you say, back straight and eyes icy. “I have an appointment with Rosie.”

“Name?” She asks, ogling Alastor from her desk.

“(F/N) (L/N).”

By some great feat of strength, the girl is able to peel her eyes off of Alastor and down to her calendar.

“Oh! Yes, she’s waiting for you. Right back through there,” she says quickly so she can resume her admiration-from-a-distance. You thank her quietly and head to the back room, hoping to make it there without Alastor who you really don’t need to see right now. But today the universe doesn’t care what you want because he’s right by your side just as you knock on the office door. 

“There you are, darling,” he cheers.

“Here I am.”

Rosie calls you in and you march forward before Alastor’s lanky arm can make its way around you again.

---

Usually the men you meet with are that. Men. In large mahogany offices with clunky leather furniture. The rooms always smell of smoke and hard liquor. They’re always cliches.

Rosie’s office is warm and inviting despite her Overlord status. It fosters false security with its pink furniture, silk curtains, and the multi-tiered tray of tea cakes ready for her guests to consume, like the witch’s home in Hansel and Gretel. And Rosie herself screams, “I’m a sweet darling in my modest dress and my big floppy hat. Please trust me inherently so I can snatch you in my web and digest you.” 

It’s diabolical and you love that.

You offer her a polite smile and she sends an eager, toothy grin right back at you, not Alastor. No, he gets a much softer, much fonder smile.

“Good morning, ma’am. It’s very nice to meet you,” you bow your head, offering up your own sense of false security in the form of humility.

“Likewise. I’ve heard wonderful things about you, Miss (L/N). Good to see you again, Alastor darling.”

Behind you, Alastor flushes and his eyes widen, which only makes Rosie’s teasing smile wider. As a distraction, Alastor sets his eyes on to you. He’s never quite seen you so at ease. You take a seat opposite Rosie as if you were friends for millennia. You take a small finger sandwich from the same tier that Rosie takes one. Smart. You indulge in Rosie’s small talk about the latest politics and the hotel. Smart. You keep your shoulders and the curt smile on your face steady. Amazing. 

It occurs to Alastor quite quickly that he really didn’t need to be here, at least, not for your sake. You were fine and your years of dealing with creatures as diabolical as Rosie were shining through. Cooking and baking were not the only things you had a mastery over. 

You descend into business soon. Your ability to negotiate a fair price for Rosie’s ability to transport your family’s goods across Hell’s circles lights up a spark in Alastor’s heart. And he realizes even more now that you’re brilliant and resilient and he’s just dead weight at this point. Rosie seems equally captivated by you. When you’re not looking, she sends him playful winks and even sent him a thumbs up when you refuse a truly awful business proposal from her. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked so endlessly about you to her. Rosie was clearly going to blow his cover, she’s not as sneaky as she thinks she is.

“Don’t you think, Alastor?” Rosie’s voice brings him out of his internal reverie and panic.

“E-Excuse me, darling. What was that?”

Rosie smirks, “I said that your companion’s idea is brilliant. I hadn’t even thought to start peddling products from the other circles in my own shop.”

“I just figured,” you chime in, “with your connections all around Hell, your Overlord abilities, and your business savvy, that our clients’ products would be the best in your hands. And selling them through your store would not only increase your business but would also save my family the trouble of peddling product around town. Far too many mouthes to shut.”

Rosie grins at Alastor, then leans towards you with great interest.

“I think we can make that work, dear.”

Alastor flushes and excuses himself quickly back into the emporium. You’re fine. You’re more than fine. You’re doing swimmingly and you didn’t need him at all. That’s what scares him. This whole time he’s been trying to demonstrate just how useful he could be to you, just has much of an asset he could be in your life if you just let him linger there. This meeting, the way you’ve handled yourself, is just another sign to Alastor that he needs to try harder, do better. His eyes catch something on one of Rosie’s many shelves and he makes a b-line towards it, in a vain attempt to prove to you just how necessary he is.

You noticed every single wink Rosie sent Alastor even though you’re sure she was trying to hide them. It just places a layer of steel and concrete around the bricks until your heart is nothing but an impenetrable fortress. You focus on Rosie in an attempt to ignore the way Alastor hovers just behind you, probably to get a better look at Rosie. She’s really delightful and lady-like and polite and powerful and beautiful. So many things that you are just not but it’s obvious why Alastor would find himself taken with this woman. Even you are, to an extent. She reminds you of the mother you wished you had but gave up on long ago. 

You draw up a deal with Rosie quickly, and the entire time she talks to you about Alastor.

“He’s a wonderful cook, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he is,” you give a curt response back, really wanting to just finish this contract, go home, and cry into your pillow. 

“And an impeccable singer.”

“He likes to remind everyone of that, yes.”

“And quite powerful, too. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, but he was quite the firestorm when he first arrived and continues to be. I personally couldn’t take my eyes off of him.” 

You grit your teeth and smile through the heaps of compliments that she heaves. 

When you exit Rosie’s office with a completed contract and a date with Rosie to have tea to “get to know one another,” you spot Alastor at the checkout counter. There’s a box in front of him on the counter, but the checkout girl seems rather keen on holding him hostage. She wraps and re-wraps the box over and over, purposefully ripping the paper or running out of tape so she can prolong her time with the Radio Demon. Alastor continues to smile at her and you had quite enough. 

You bid Rosie a goodbye and speed your way towards the door.

“Darling, hold on! I’m not quite finished--”

You don’t turn around. You don’t want to see him. You can’t seem him, and he certainly can’t see you because then he’ll see the tears ready to pour down your cheeks. You face the door and try to steady your voice.

“Actually Alastor, I think I want to go on a walk for myself for a while. Please, stay and enjoy your adoring fans.”

You leave quickly, just in time for the tears to spill over.

Alastor stops in his tracks. The half-wrapped box is in his hands, he didn’t want to wait any longer to take it from the incompetent and rude checkout girl. Couldn’t she see that this was clearly a romantic gift meant for you, his sweetheart?

He feels a hand on his shoulder. Rosie tsks up at him.

“She’s a remarkable young lady.”

“Isn’t she?” His eyes are locked on the door as if he can still see you standing there.

“You probably shouldn’t have come,” she teases.

“You might be right about that, dear.”

“Try picking out a more romantic sight for your first promenade around town, darling. And definitely don’t underestimate her and don’t lose her,” she whispers and pats his back before retreating to her office.

[popatochisssp]

if/when you get the energy/time to- im really curious; what kinda fuzzy friends do the newer skeles have? does pitch have a seeing eye-dog version of princess? or does ell and/or nemo have a fuzzy buddy to help with their anxiety or anything similar or in-between? spare fuzzy friend hcs for the poor, ma'am????

Well, you asked for it!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): A cat named Annie (Ragdoll), adopted as an emotional support buddy! She picked him, really, just ambling right on up to him, and it was love at first flop-over-his feet. Having a little sweetheart like her to take care of has really helped to pull Ash out of the doldrums and he loves her a lot. She’s a big-time cuddlebug, just like he is, and they definitely spend a ton of time napping together, everywhere and anywhere.

Annie’s Quirks: Extra chunky (master of the ‘I haven’t been fed yet 🥺’ con), stockpiles socks and undies beneath the bed, shameless catnip junkie

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He feels like he’s not as active as he should be, lots of time spent indoors doing academic things, when there’s a whole beautiful world out there that he should be getting out to see at least sometimes... He has the idea that maybe an animal companion would be the right motivation to get up and out at least a couple times a day, and Cannoli (Pembroke Welsh Corgi) is the solution to the problem! They click pretty much immediately and are just very well-suited to each other, especially as exercise partners.

Cannoli’s Quirks: Loves (short) walks, rests his head on any feet that stay still long enough, must sleep in the same bed as the people and will hop/bark/cry if he can’t get up there himself

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):He doesn’t know too much of the story himself, he’s sure he was told in more detail but probably forgot. All he remembers is, a friend of a friend had a dog who had an accident...or maybe it got sick? Either way, it went deaf, and the dog was too big and unwieldy for them to try to retrain themselves. But they had a friend who was HoH, and that friend was active in the community with lots of other signing and HoH folks and could ask around about someone who might be up for the challenge of having and training a real big dog that couldn’t hear a word you said to it. That’s how Brick heard about it, anyway, and he’s not deaf but he’s big, and he figures he probably knows at least enough sign by now to train a dog. And that’s how Tiny (English Mastiff) comes to stay at his place. They clumsily work on understanding each other, it’s definitely a Process, but there’s plenty of fondness there to make any difficulty worth the trouble.

Tiny’s Quirks: Bit of a digging problem, gets very excited about balloons, likes to sit near people and lean his entire weight into them

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): This one may look familiar, but it’s fate-- Doomfanger (Persian) belongs with him and could find her way to him in any universe. ...But King was a little later getting to the Surface, and wasn’t there to pick her up when she was freshly on the streets. She spent awhile longer being an alleycat, a few years of living the rough life, and one day when she’s not quite fast enough to scurry out of the way of an oncoming car, it probably would’ve been the end for her... if not for the kind Samaritan skeleton who was just passing by that scooped her up off the pavement and brought her to a vet. King tried very hard not to get attached to her, especially when it was still looking like she wouldn’t make it, but he kept moving the goalpost of when he’d let himself care about her. ‘IF IT LIVES UNTIL MORNING,’ ‘IF IT MAKES IT TO THE VET,’ ‘IF SHE SURVIVES HER SURGERY,’ ‘IF--’ and then she looks at him, with her goofy drugged up face, freshly missing the foot of her back paw so that they even match now, and... And just like that, Doomfanger has a home and a devoted cat-dad owner and anything else she could possibly need.

Doomfanger’s Quirks: Likes to be raked, makes an incredible fuss when shut out of any room for any reason, very spooked by loud noises and immediately runs and hides under daddy’s bed

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He wanted a pet, especially when things were still a little strained with his brother and the nature of his...condition...made it difficult to make friends. He was lonely and a little pal would be very welcome in his home, but he’d also really hate to curse a furry friend with the ever-present threat of being dripped on and getting nasty bone-goop stuck in their fur... Ella (Sphynx) is the workaround to this unusual problem and makes herself right at home with Merc, happy to love on him whether he’s solid or sticky.

Ella’s Quirks: Has an extensive collection of sweaters that she adores (will sit by her dresser and meow until she is clothed), great sense for emotions and tends to appear whenever she’s needed, transfixed by mirrors

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He didn’t choose Ripley (Maine Coon), Ripley... well, he’s not even sure Ripley chose him. He definitely chose Ella, because that pretty little sweater-wearing vixen in the window is what drove him to bust into Ell and Merc’s house and start sauntering around like he owned the place. Ripley (named before they realized he was a boy-cat) was definitely feral, with a notched ear and a missing eye, but he just keeps coming around, breaking and entering, cuddling with Ella and sharing her food, and when he one day hops into Ell’s lap and curls his big fluffy body up there... Ell makes the (possibly bad) decision to just shut the doors and windows on this mean, fat bastard and make him commit to the self-domestication he’d started. Ripley’s fickle, anti-social, and nine times out of ten mean as hell, but despite it all, Ell’s attached to the fucker. Doesn’t stop him from talking mad shit about his demon-cat to anyone who’ll listen, but y’know, there’s a weird sort of love there, between them both.

Ripley’s Quirks: Hates other cats and people, with Ell and Ella as the only exceptions (Ell sometimes, Ella always), does truly heinous things to birds and rodents and even bugs if the opportunity presents itself, an escape artist who is not to be trusted around doors or windows

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Ms. Sandy Peaches (Golden Retriever) is a service dog, trained to assist people with visual impairments in a variety of tasks. Pitch, who’d long been mulling over the idea of getting one such dog, eventually follows through, and as soon as he hears her name, he’s decided-- Sandy Peaches is the one for him! He’s been blind awhile by the time he gets her and generally knows his way around things, but she’s very helpful in his day-to-day and some of the things that were moderately inconvenient to get through before are only mildly inconvenient now, and her value as a helper and a companion is much appreciated.

Sandy’s Quirks: Gets excited when it’s time to put her vest on and go work, thinks the appropriate amount of brushing time is probably about three hours, loves to go swimming

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He found Dizzy (American Shorthair) after an accidental click led him to a local shelter’s Instagram, where they had a video of her playing and a few hashtags that explained her condition. He learned a lot about cerebellar hypoplasia, aka ‘wobbly cat syndrome,’ and when he eventually made it back to her video and watched it again... it was too late, he was already half in love with her. He contacts the shelter and after a couple weeks making arrangements, purchasing necessities, and wobbly-cat-proofing the house, he braves the outdoors to go get her and bring her home. She’s probably 100% his baby within the first hour and he loves being able to take care of her and help a kitty that not everybody would have the time or dedication to take in. The love is very much mutual and Dizzy’s tail does the ‘omg it’s you, I love you!’ tail-quiver whenever she sees him and trots on over.

Dizzy’s Quirks: Sixth sense for when there’s clean laundry to be laid on, likes to hold extended warbling and yowling conversations with people, chews on anything that crinkles (keep plastic wrappers out of reach!)

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): As soon as he knew he wanted a dog, he knew he wanted to pick up one of the less adoptable ones. Skipper (Beagle mutt) was certainly that, with only two legs--one in front and one in back. Sunny had a play session with the little guy and admired his energy and how enthusiastically he played, like his missing legs didn’t even phase him. Whatever happened in Skipper’s past, he’s not letting it be his problem now, and needless to say, he’s adopted and taken home in pretty short order. No holds barred fetch and spontaneous frolicking in open fields are a great bonding activity for these two, probably a match made in heaven.

Skipper’s Quirks: Tennis ball fiend (literally can never have enough), chews on unattended shoes, loves to sing (read: howl) along to music

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He wanted a guard dog, some big intimidating-looking thing that would look really, really cool guard the house. He finds Ace (Doberman/Great Dane), unfortunately with his ears already cropped (Aster wouldn’t have chosen the procedure himself), but otherwise a very handsome fellow and still definitely in need of love and a home, both of which Aster was willing and able to provide. He’s attentive with all the care and training his new pup needs, and when Ace grows up just as huge as predicted, looking like a cross between a panther and a hellhound, he’s become an extremely well-mannered and obedient dog, full to the tips of his pointy ears with love for Aster.

Ace’s Quirks: King of naps, the worst nightmare of any strangers at the door (but very affectionate and loving once they’re in!), will tell you if you’ve stopped petting him too soon, boofing and trying to put your hand back to make you resume

[kyber-kisses]

Sleep Demons

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: sleep paralysis, nightmares, cursing. That good ol angst and fluff

Summary: Being a hunter, nightmares are just another part of the gig, the only problem? The readers are worst than most.

A/n: Once again, I’m throwing another Dean comfort!fic at you. (Try and stop me.) anyways, hope you guys enjoy and my SPN taglist is still open! I also based this off my own experience with sleep paralysis.

Nightmares were the bane of your existence.

You would think that being a hunter for so long that you wouldn’t be afraid of anything. You had seen everything from ghosts to the very devil himself. . . So what exactly was left to be afraid of? You would have thought the answer would be simple, but it wasn’t. It was about as long and complicated as the life itself.

As a life long hunter the days can easily blur together, and many times it can feel like you haven’t slept for days, but when sleep did come it was rarely ever relaxing. That was when the nightmares replaced the horrors of the waking hours, weaseling their way into every crack and crevice of your mind and paralyzing you with fear. . . Literally.

Your nightmares were worst than what most people had. They were twisted and warped and strong enough to partially make it into your conscious. Most of them were about people you had failed, people you had lost- and then there were the ones about people you were afraid to lose. Like Sam and Dean.

But the absolute worst ones were the sleep paralysis demons that came much too often. It was usually the same shadowy figure sitting at the edge of your bed when it happened. You had done some research on it when sleep didn’t come at all only to find out that it was the concoction of your body waking up but your brain still in dreaming mode, resulting in your nightmares being projected into the real world.

The end result was that the nightmares disrupted your sleep cycle and tried to jerk you out of it early, leaving your body in lock down mode while you were fully conscious. You had lost count of how many times you found yourself paralyzed in your bed. Sometimes you would even try to scream but nothing happened. The noise unable to escape your throat.

You of course didn’t tell the brothers of your problem. . . Especially Dean. He could usually read you like an open book but you tried hard to keep this hidden. You were a hunter. Hunters didn’t get scared. You didn’t need anyone’s judgment- so you suffered in silence.

And that’s the way it stayed for a very long time.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“Y/N?. . . Y/N!” Dean sighed, his voice raising as he snapped his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your zoned out state. He had been talking to you for the past five minutes but only now noticed your lack of attention.

Blinking out of your thoughts, you looked across the table at Dean, finding his face screwed up in concern. “What?”

“I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes- what the hell is going on with you?”

Shit. He was on to you. He knew something was up. Quick, feed him a lie.

“I’m fine! Just thinking about the case.”

At that you watched Deans face fall further, eyes filling up even more with concern. “Y/N we aren’t working a case. Now tell me the truth.”

In truth Dean had been concerned about you for awhile now. The bags under your eyes were there more often than not and this wasn’t the first time you had zoned out. He just didn’t know what was wrong specifically.

“Dean, I’m fine!”

The older Winchester let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over the table as he leaned forward. “You’re sitting here drinking coffee at 11:30 at night. Sweetheart that ain’t fine.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I’m just. . . So into this research. It’s a real attention grabber. Didn’t want to pass out.”

The hunter across from you rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the bait. “Well hate to burst your bubble there but that’s decaf.”

“Sam-“ you grumbled in annoyance, shoving the useless drink away from you along with your book. This whole conversation was turning into a train wreck. “I’m gonna kill him.”

The faint trances of a smile crossed Deans face, even if only for a moment. “Please don’t. Sure he’s annoying at times but he’s actually a decent brother.”

He was hoping to at least get a small smile out of you. . . But nothing came. Rolling your shoulders you gave him one last look before pushing yourself out of your seat. There was no point sitting here if you were eventually going to fall asleep. Plus, you really wanted to avoid telling Dean the truth. You didn’t need to burden him with more problems.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” You yawned, already dreading the coming hours. “Good night, Dean.”

You didn’t even give him a chance to answer before you were stepping out of the library and down the dim hallway towards your room, leaving Dean in silence as he watched you go, expression still heavy with concern. He wanted to run after you, make sure you were okay- but he didn’t want to pester you, not when you looked so tired. He didn’t need to annoy you. . . Especially not at this hour.

It was maybe five minutes later that Sam strode in, claiming your now vacant seat as his own, only to find his brother staring off into the distance, deep in thought.

“Dude, you okay?” He paused, seeing he had yet to catch his attention. “Dean!”

“Hmm?”

“What the hell were you thinking about? You were totally zoned out.” Leaning back in the wooden chair, he folded his arms, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Has Y/N seemed off to you lately? Like not her normal self?

There was a pause from the younger Winchester before he answered. “I mean, she has seemed more tired lately, but that’s about it. Why?”

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to decipher the problem at hand. He missed the usual you. The vibrant and energetic you. Now that he had come to think of it, he hadn’t seen that part of you in a long time. You tried to act like your usual self but Dean suddenly realized there was a tint to it. What he and Sam had been seeing these past few months was just an act.

“God, I’m such an idiot-“ he sighed, head falling forward into his hands at the realization. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Y/N! What else?” He half shouted, eyes darting back to the door to makes sure you weren’t listening in. “I mean, Ive been worrying about her for awhile now, but I just-.” he took a deep breath. “ Shes struggling with something.”

“Struggling with what?”

“Hell if I know!” Dean sighed, throwing his hands up. “I just tried asking her and she shut me down.”

“Then go talk to her.” Sam tried, seeing clearly that his brother wanted nothing more than to help you. Dean was always looking out for you, even if you didn’t always realize it.

“She went to bed. . . I’ll have to try talking to her in the morning.”

Sam tapped out around an hour later, going off to bed without a word, leaving Dean in a lonely silence. He was only half paying attention to the work he was doing, his eyes having gone over the same paragraph several times but not processing any of it.

It wasn’t until the clock on the opposite wall read 1:30 that he knew he had to surrender and give up. Maybe if he tried he could still squeeze in his average four hours of sleep before he had to get up and get back to work. Maybe it would help get his mind running again.

Peeling himself out of his seat and slightly stretching, Dean set off towards his own room, turning off the many lights that were still on as he went. The silence becoming almost deafening without the buzz of electricity.

It wasn’t until he was reaching for the handle of his own door that the silence was broken, a crash echoing down the hallway from the direction of your room and making him pause. Before he could register his own movements he was walking down the hall. He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or worry that was pulling him along. Maybe it was both.

The hunter side of him wanted to throw open your door and burst in, but he kept himself calm, raising his hand to rap his knuckles against the door softly. “Y/N?” He paused, only twisting the knob a few seconds later when he didn’t get any sort of response.

He mostly expected to see you tucked under the covers and sound asleep, but instead he was met with a totally different sight.

You had your back pressed firmly into your headboard, knees tucked against you tightly while your hands were planted firmly against the headboard, almost like you had scrambled back in terror. Your eyes wide and glossed over with fear, tear stained cheeks a rosy red.

“Woah, hey. You okay?” His tone rushed as he stepped over the threshold, eyebrows knitting together in concern. He had never seen you like this and it made his stomach drop.

“Just-just a nightmare.” You panted, dragging a shaky hand down your face. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want to annoy him anymore than you probably already had. He needed his sleep too and now your stupid little problem had stopped him from that. You should have known this would happen sooner or later. If you had just put your damn laptop on your desk instead of leaving it on the bed, then you never would have kicked it off when you had snapped out of your paralysis.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.” He breathed, “I get em too.” kneeling down, he picked your laptop up from the ground, setting it on your side table. Nightmares. He should have known. God, now he really did feel stupid.

“You- you can go back to bed. I’m fine.” You stuttered, looping your arms around your knees in hopes of finding some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, you’re shaking. That’s not fine. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Slowly he lowered himself to sit on the edge of your bed, watching you intently and giving all of his attention over to you. He wanted to help. He needed to help.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. I didn’t mean to.”

“I wasn’t asleep. . . Plus I don’t sleep much as it is. Like I said, you’re not the only one who gets nightmares.”

“Oh.” You say in a lame response, looking down at your hands. You had been clenching them so hard that there were now crescent shaped divots in the skin of your palms. “I think mine can out beat yours though.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. He was probably giving you some sort of pitiful look. “Not really. But I know that if I don’t you’ll just keep worrying about me.”

“I’m always worrying about you.” He swallowed, “ain’t nothing new there.”

“As a hunter I thought I wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything.” You explained, tugging your comforter back over your tucked in legs. “Yet somehow damn nightmares are the thing that is tearing me apart. I think mine are worst than most.”

“Why do you think that?”

Letting out another sigh, you finally looked up, eyes locking with his jade ones. He looked concerned. He looked sad. “The sleep demons. The paralysis. They used to be rare but now it happens almost nightly.”

“I’m sorry, sleep demons?” His tone slightly raising in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. Hell, he didn’t exactly know what you were talking about.

You let out a soft hum, nodding your head in defeat. “They’re hallucinations linked to sleep paralysis. It occurs when a person is jolted awake in the middle of dreaming.” You paused, trying to find the best way of explaining it. “Basically you wake up - but your brain is still dreaming, and it projects your nightmares into the real world.”

Dean was silent for a moment, taking in the information slowly. You had been dealing with this by yourself? Alone? Why didn’t you come to him or Sam?

 “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you sooner.”

“Didn’t want to bother you- plus, I hate even thinking about it, Dean. Everything about it is terrifying.”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Dean dared to venture further into the conversation. If he wanted to help you, he needed more answers. “You could never bother me. I need you to know that.” He paused. “Now what is this sleep paralysis or whatever like?”

There was a stretch of silence from your end before you answered. “Awful. In every sense of the word. The first thing I usually see when I wake up is the same shadowy figure sitting on the end of my bed. I don’t know who or what it is, all I know is that it’s a concoction that my head made up. Maybe it’s how I envision fear, I don’t know.” You shrugged. “And when it happens I can’t move. I can’t blink. I sometimes try to scream but nothing comes out. Sometimes it lasts a few seconds. Sometimes a few minutes. And the whole time I just have fear coursing through me. It’s basically like starting a dream and waking up in the middle of it.”

“Y/N, you should have come to me! You shouldn’t have to suffer alone like that!” Dean let out a sigh, giving you one of his defeated looks that made your heart break in two.

He couldn’t imagine going through what you did on a nightly basis. Being awake and not being able to move? Not having anyone to help you? Sure, he had nightmares but those were nothing like this. They were usually about losing you or Sam. . . Or about the people he had failed to save.

“I’m sorry- I just-“ you panted, unable to form words as tears formed in your eyes. You were so tired, and still so scared. Your own mind would be the thing that killed you if this kept going.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Dean hurried, shifting so he could pull you into him, his arms wrapping around you to rub soothing circles on your back, almost instantly calming you. “It’s alright. I got you.”

You couldn’t help it that you were practically clinging to him like a life line. He radiated safety and comfort in way that nothing else did. Resting your forehead against his shoulder, you inhaled. He still smelled like cheap motel soap and something distinctly himself. It was calming. You almost didn’t notice that one of his hands had gone to cradle the back of your head, or that his cheek was pressed to your temple. he was just that gentle.

Dean Winchester. Both soft as cotton and tough as nails. That was one of the reasons why he was so dear to you. . . Along with everything else that made him him.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. I’ll always be here if you need me.” He muttered, pulling back just enough to press a kiss to your head.

“You can go to bed. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He gave you a soft grin as he toed off his shoes, taking up the empty portion of your bed, and hooking his arm around you, pulling you close. “I ain’t leavin you. Not now. Not ever. Sometimes even the monster hunter needs to feel safe.”

You should have resisted. Told the stubborn man to go back to his own room and leave this all in the past. . . But he felt so safe and warm. He was like a magnet and all you could do was let him pull you in, securing you in his hold.

“Also, just so you know- whenever I get a nightmare I’m coming and crawling into your bed.” Dean mused, nuzzling into your shoulder. “You just signed a contract.”

and that is exactly what happened. Because for almost every night after the first, You and Dean helped fend off each others nightmares. When you woke up frozen in fear, Dean was there besides you reminding you that you were safe until eventually the shadows slipped away. As for Dean, only reality was the woman held fast in his arms.

End.

Taglist:

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[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 5

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Manipulation 

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

It had been five days since your arrival in Hell and you were no closer to finding a way home than you were when you had first arrived. Charlie and the rest of the hotel staff were being as helpful as they could be, but it wasn’t easy running an entire hotel rehabilitation center on top of trying to find a way back to an alternate dimension. There was also the small fact that Charlie was the Princess of Hell and had regal duties to attend to on top of everything else. Still, you were grateful for whatever help they could provide.

Their methods of research were bizarre and not at all what you were expecting. The hotel had its very own library, filled with enough books to last you a lifetime of reading. Charlie had shown you sections of books based on travel, magic, and other strange things that were not the norm in your dimension. However, because magic was so common here, it was difficult to narrow down exactly what powerful source had brought you into Hell. The possibilities were endless.

Since you really didn’t know where to begin, you skimmed through a bunch of books to see if anything stuck out to you or jogged your memory. By day five, your head hurt, you were exhausted, and you felt utterly defeated. It felt like you hadn’t made any progress. 

However, it wasn’t all bad. The others kept you company while you read, though some more reluctantly than others. Oftentimes they assisted with sifting through the mess of books themselves. If you were being honest, sometimes having them around was more of a disturbance than an actual helpful resource, but it was a welcome distraction to ease the stress of the situation.

Charlie would randomly burst into song about whatever chapter she was reading about. Vaggie would make noises of disgust and complain about the grotesque history of Hell. Husk pretended to read through the books, when in actuality he would use the time to drink booze undisturbed and would eventually fall asleep, snoring loudly. Niffty, whom you had finally had a chance to meet, could never stay still long enough to read, and instead would start cleaning. Angel Dust just wouldn’t shut up about his sex life. 

Surprisingly, the only person who didn’t drive you crazy was Alastor. He had no problems sitting calmly with you and reading in silence. He wasn’t so much interested in the magic portion of the books as he was in the torture and carnage-filled sections. He was an enigma. 

Late one afternoon, the two of you were seated next to each other on the couch in the library. He was captivated by a book in another language with what seemed to be a sacrificial cow on the cover while you were reading about magical portals for the umpteenth time. 

No longer able to concentrate due to frustration, fatigue, and boredom, you closed the book and looked up at the Radio Demon. His normally taut and wide smile was relaxed into a closed-mouthed grin as he sat, relishing in whatever gruesome thing he was reading about from the twisted book in his hands.

Unaware of your staring, he failed to notice your gaze rising to the top of his head where two little antlers stood prominently next to two tufts of hair. “I can’t tell if that’s just the way your hair is styled, or if those are actually your ears,” you found yourself blurting out, focused on the pointed, furry shapes on top of his head. 

His crimson eyes flickered to you, seemingly unfazed by the interruption, though he remained eerily silent.

Nodding towards the top of his head for emphasis, you pressed further. “So? Which is it?”

“Curious little thing, aren’t we?” he mocked in a sickly sweet tone, baring his teeth in another smile. “Why do such things concern you?” 

Pursing your lips slightly and shrugging your shoulders, you replied, “Like you said… curiosity.” He released a short burst of laughter before turning his attention back to his book, not bothering to answer your question.

Unable to stop yourself, you asked, “Can I touch them?”

The look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes flashed in what you could only assume was anger. For one brief moment, the corners of his mouth turned down into a scowl before it was quickly replaced with another toothy smile. “I don’t much care for that,” he answered, his heated gaze still focused on you. 

“You don’t much care for what? ...To be touched? You don’t like to be touched?” you found yourself babbling and repeating yourself, bemused by his statement. 

His lip curled slightly as he digested your words. “No. I do not.” 

Your face flushed with embarrassment as you looked down at your lap. What kind of person asks someone if you can just outright touch them? How intrusive, especially considering he apparently had an affliction with personal contact from other people, which honestly confused you after having recalled how many times you had seen him pressing himself against others. The past five days had allowed you to observe the strange residents inhabiting the hotel. While Charlie and Vaggie seemed to make the majority of decisions, Alastor seemed eerily quiet. He had kept his distance from you for the most part, which you assumed was either due to Charlie asking him nicely not to scare you off or Vaggie threatening to execute him like the badass that she was. He had an intriguing air about him in that he cared little for the opinions of others and simply did as he pleased. The demon seemed pretty docile in comparison to what you had seen the day he entered your mind, but you didn’t forget what he could quickly become at the drop of a hat. As much as you hated to admit it, he interested you the most out of anyone else. 

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between the two of you as you chewed your lip and drummed your fingers along the arm of the couch awkwardly. Not long after, Alastor relieved an annoyed sigh before he murmured, “Go on, then.” 

“What?”

Closing his book with a sharp snap , he set it down beside him, folding his hands together and turning to address you. “If it will satiate your incessant need to know what lays atop my head, you may touch me.”

Instead of immediately jumping at the chance, you resisted. “Um… that’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable just because I apparently have no sense of boundaries.”

“Darling,” he drawled, clearly amused by your reluctance. “You won’t get this opportunity again. Touch me.” 

His wording caused an involuntary hitch in your breath. You hesitated only for a moment, not wanting to miss out on what was clearly an exclusive invitation, which he didn’t often allow. His eyes fell to your mouth as you bit your bottom lip, causing him to smirk at your unease.

Quickly giving in, you sat up and kneeled on the sofa to get better access. Slowly, you reached for his head, careful to avoid the sharp tips of his antlers. 

Finally, your fingers came into contact with the top of his head. What you felt was difficult to describe. You never really thought about what animated hair would feel like. It felt very similar to actual hair, which mystified you. On top of that, his hair had an odd texture to it; wiry but soft, like actual fur, which made sense considering he was a zoomorphic being.

The intensity of his gaze felt hot against your skin as you continued to explore his mane, running your hand up along the part you were most curious about. The tall mounds on his head seemed to be a mix of ears and also hair. There weren’t any openings like a typical ear would have, but they were too stiff to be just hair.

“I still don’t know what these are,” you admitted, more to yourself than to him.

“Perhaps their purpose is simply to mystify. I was just drawn this way, I suppose,” he jested, playing off of your animation accusations. It was a concept that you had to explain to the hotel inhabitants over and over again.  Alastor was able to understand it more only because he had seen what your actual world looked like inside of your head. 

Ignoring his jab, you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing to explore the top of his head. You began to rub tenderly at a spot near the base of his ears. He then closed his eyes as your fingers worked against him. At first, you thought his eyes were closed due to disgust until you had noticed a low hum from deep in his throat. It sounded like an electrical current, but you soon determined that it had to be his own demonic version of a purr. Okay, that was fucking adorable.

“Very… peculiar,” you declared, finally retracting your hand and sitting back on the couch. 

“Are you satisfied, my dear?” he inquired with a subtle underlying meaning underneath.

“Not really,” you answered promptly. “But I’m not going to pet your head again, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

His grin widened as he chuckled, which sounded more like static feedback than an actual laugh.

Just as you were about to return to your book, he chimed, “My turn.”

Puzzled, you asked, “Uh.. for what?” 

“It’s only fair, don’t you think? You fondled me, now I get to inspect you. A little tit for tat, hmm?” 

Gawking at him, you tried to find the words to convey your panicked emotions at that moment. “Fondled?! I didn’t… I… I don’t… what?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No reason to be nervous, sweetheart. I mean you no harm.”

His words of comfort only made you more anxious as you watched him lift himself from the couch and into a standing position. He then extended his arm and offered his hand for you to take with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Your hand was noticeably shaking as you rested it in his, allowing him to grasp it tightly as he pulled you from the couch and onto your wobbly legs. What was happening? Why was he making you so nervous? He had even told you before that if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done so by now. He hadn’t shown any prior aggression towards you, and he had been nothing but docile for the past few days. Why were you suddenly so nervous? 

Interrupting your internal turmoil, the demon stepped closer, bringing you back to the situation at hand rather than letting you get lost in your thoughts. His eyes flickered across your body from your head to your feet, his smile widening even further.

He then gently grasped a bit of your hair and twirled it slowly around his fingers, seemingly fascinated by its movement. Once he was finished, he stepped behind you. Instead of following him, you stood still, your nerves locking up your joints and preventing you from moving.

The tip of his finger rested along your right shoulder before he slowly dragged it across your back onto your left shoulder. The action caused your entire body to tremble, giving you goosebumps. 

“Calm yourself,” he whispered in your ear, making you even more nervous.

Returning to your line of view, he was once again in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you narrowed your eyes as his hands gripped your hips, bringing you closer. He then trailed a slender finger along your collarbone, down to your sternum and to the top of your breasts. 

His piercing red eyes shot up to gauge your reaction, but you managed to keep your expression neutral and your breathing even as he smirked and continued to explore.

Guiding the palms of his hands alongside your breasts, he used his thumb to lightly brush over your hardened peaks, not bothering to linger before moving on. “Quite fascinating,” he huffed, clearly enamored with you.

Were you seriously letting this thing touch your breasts? Why couldn’t you move? Why were you stuck like a deer in the headlights? Punch him! Kick him! Do something!

Unaware of your inner turmoil, he continued to grace his gloved hands further and lower until one of his hands abruptly cupped your sex, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Slapping his hand away, you barked, “That’s enough.” Narrowing his eyes, he seemed positively giddy, which infuriated you even more. “Something the matter, dear?” “You’re crazier than I thought if you think groping my crotch is the equivalent of touching your ears!” “My, my,” he scolded disapprovingly. “Such crude language is not very becoming of a precious thing like yourself. Your request was quite an intimate one. It’s only fair that it should be met with one of equal fervor, wouldn’t you agree?” “No! I would absolutely not agree! You’re delusional!” 

Cackling, he snapped his fingers and his staff appeared next to him, which he used to balance on as he eyed you with an amused expression. “I assure you, my dear. I have no nefarious intent with your body. Merely your mind.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you barked back, simultaneously embarrassed and insulted. 

He took a step closer to you, placing a finger under your chin to lift your face to meet his, which he seemed to like to do often to signify his power over you. Your initial reaction was to smack it away, but his gaze held you captive as you hung onto every word that he said. “It means, my dear girl… that you’re mine.”

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys @skylarhedges

[devintrinidad]

Charlastor Week #3: Cooking

Charlie crept down the stairs of her hotel, careful to avoid the creaky stairs by keeping close to the walls. Her movements were stealthy and quiet, measured and hesitant. While she was the Princess of Hell, she didn’t want to know what else went bump in the night besides her fellow demons. Down, down she went into the bowels of darkness and despair until she came across the entranceway of the hotel’s kitchen. With a sigh, she began to feel against the wall until she came across the telltale contour of an outlet and a switch.

Once she flicked the toggle upwards, the kitchen was awash in the glow of bright white light. Squinting, Charlie hurriedly wandered over to the fridge. Her eyes were still adjusting to the intensity of the brightness—they were watering!—but in time, Charlie allowed her eyes to widen just a bit.

Inside the refrigerator, there was a vast array of foods that had taken up residence inside. Now that a few patrons had wandered into her hotel seeking free board or to take a shot at redemption, Charlie and Vaggie had taken up Angel’s advice to stock up on food for all the weary, sinful souls under her care.

A smile twitched on her face at that.

Logically, most of the demons were here to either watch her fail or to get some free amenities, but… it was a start. A rough one at that, but a start nonetheless.

As she propped open the fridge with one of her feet, she began to peruse the contents. There were a few cartons of eggs, a loaf of bread, a multitude of vegetables and fruits, a few containers filled with leftovers… hmm… She tapped one of her fingers at the point of her chin, a look of consideration on her face.

It was early in the morning, the witching hour as one would say, so it wouldn’t make her too much of a glutton if she were to eat something heavy...but… Her teeth absently chewed on her bottom lip. But, what if someone wanted to eat the leftovers during breakfast. Oh, what a conundrum.

Well, it was a good thing that she was the Princess of Hell and not the resident glutton. She took out an apple from the pile of fruits, closed the door, and—

“Alastor!” She dropped the apple onto her feet, which were sadly bereft of any and all protection that could have saved her precious toes from pain. A small groan left her lips as she bent down to retrieve her fallen fruit. Damn, it better not ended up bruised. “What brings you here?” She furrowed her brows at him in curiosity. “So early in the morning?”

Unlike Charlie, who was adorned in pajamas befitting that of a broke college student in the turn of the newest century, Alastor was dressed in his everyday attire. She had half a mind to ask if he either forewent the idea of changing into sleepwear or had abandoned the idea of sleep altogether. As it were, it was still barely three in the morning, she was craving a snack, and her business partner was eyeing her like he would with some helpless prey.

All in all, not exactly the most ideal way to start the day.

“Well, I was browsing a novel when I heard you go down the stairs! Ha ha ha!” He tilted his head back and laughed, the volume of which was sure to awaken any of the sinners who were light sleepers. If it were anyone else, Charlie would have shushed him, but… He was kind of the Radio Demon. An Overlord of Hell. You just didn’t tell people like him that, even if you technically ranked above him in the social hierarchy. “Hungry for something, my dear?”

Charlie, as awkward as ever, held out her apple to the light in answer.

“Don’t worry, Al! I got it all under control.” She took a bite of her chosen apple to make a point, but found herself horrified when she bit into the flesh only to realize that the skin was bruised and just plain icky tasting. If it weren’t for her mother’s lessons on decorum and etiquette, Charlie would have surely spat out the spoiled flesh.

Yikes.

Looks like Vaggie and her were going on a grocery run later.

“Excuse me, darling, but I do believe that a face like that… well…” Alastor’s radio noise began to evolve into a series of “oohhhs” and murmurs of disgust before dissolving into his stereotypical hum of white noise.

Charlie thought about asking what kind of face she had made to have warranted a response from Alastor’s hidden audience, but found that she’d rather not ask.

“Fine… so my apple isn’t the best treat for a morning pick me up.” She shrugged as she tossed her bitten apple to and fro, from one palm to another. She followed the arc of the curve of the trajectory of the apple before facing Alastor again. She sighed. “I’m sorry for disturbing your leisure reading. I’ll be sure to be more quiet next time.” She turned and began heading towards the exit. “If you’re planning on staying here, make sure to switch off the light when you leave.”

Suddenly, there was pressure on the Princess’s shoulder. It was hooked into her upper arms and clawed. Although the grip was featherlight and allowed room for her to look back at her captor, there was a warning there that Charlie immediately took notice of.

“Yes?”

Alastor’s grin, which had been remarkably calm and loose lipped for the entirety of their encounter thus far, had stretched until his cheeks were nonexistent and his gums could be seen behind the tightly curled flesh.

Despite the fact that Charlie was older than Alastor and had seen more than her fair share of violence, she couldn’t help but gulp and shiver at his hold. Smiles don’t look like that, no matter how psychopathic an individual you were.

Alastor’s smile… took things too far.

“Now, when did I give the impression that I was disturbed? Perhaps I, too, also wanted to partake in an early morning snack!”

She quirked a brow. “Really.”

“Of course, my dear! There’s no better time than the present to go hunting late at night, into one of the famed forests of Hell, with nothing but your wits and a knife and the prey just waiting to be carved and sliced op—“

“Oookay—“ She held up her hands in the universal sign for a time out. “—I hate to cut that short, Al, but that was going into territory that is almost too graphic for a hotel of redemption.”

“Charlie.” His eyes, deep red and glowing with malevolent intent, narrowed in either anger or amusement. At that point, Alastor’s montonity in smiling confused the Hell out of Charlie—she could barely tell what was up and what was down when it came to Alastor! “We’re in Hell. Nothing is too graphic for such a decaying pit of debauchery and disorder!”

“True, but I’d rather not commit murder just so I can stave off a craving.” Charlie crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Hmm.” Alastor let go of her shoulder and yanked the fridge door open. “What were you craving, sweetheart?”

Charlie blinked. “Are you offering to cook for me?”

“Considering that I can’t cook you, I might as well cook for you, ha ha ha!”

Charlie chuckled a little at that before her eyes began to grow wide with mischief. “Have you ever tried your hand at Italian cuisine, Alastor?”

Alastor looked like he was about to reply in earnest before his smile began to freeze and grow brittle.

“Are you asking because you honestly want to have Italian? Or are you asking to get under my skin?”

Charlie smiled cheekily at him before throwing her bruised apple into Alastor’s awaiting hand. For a moment, Charlie could just barely make out a record scratch amidst the crackle of white noise. He was surprised. That was probably a good sign, right?

“Anything to do with apples, Al.” She threw up her hands and situated herself at a nearby island to watch him work. “Have at it.”

Alastor looked at her apple, a curious furrow in between his eyes. He seemed to examine the pierces skin, of the neat little hole that had been caused by her sharp teeth. Finally, after what seemed to be like an eternity had to pass, he came to a decision.

“Something filling, but not too heavy?”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

He shot her a small grin. “Then your wish is my command.”

With that, he hustled towards the fridge and took out several ingredients that didn’t seem like they would go together. Nearby, Charlie heaved herself onto the island’s countertop and lounged there as she watched him. He began slicing her bitten apple into finely cut slices and then started to sauté them in a skillet alongside cinnamon and butter.

The aroma that arose from the pan caused her mouth to water. At the rate Alastor was going, he was sure to awaken the entire hotel. No way was anyone going to stay asleep after breathing in such a divine scent!

Next, he removed the sautéed apples and put more butter into the pan. As the butter melted over the heat, Alastor proceeded to crack open three eggs into a bowl, whisk them, and pour the mixture into the pan—after he had liberally spiced them up.

Hmm...apples and eggs, a weird combination to say the least.

“I hope I’m not boring you?” Alastor asked. During the procedure, he had been humming a simple tune or narrating what he had been doing. Charlie didn’t mind, she liked his voice and it helped soothe the hunger that gnawed at her stomach.

“Not at all! You just seemed to be in your element, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“That’s wonderful to hear! Because—“ Alastor allowed the finished egg to slide gently onto a plate before adding the sautéed apples on top. With the help of a spatula and some creative thinking, he then folded the omelette in half. “—this apple omelette needs eating! What do you think?”

Charlie’s eyes lit up as she made grabbing motions towards the food. She hadn’t meant to be so childish, but it was well worth the embarrassment when her business partner chuckled indulgently at her before placing the dish into her hands.

“You know, it looks too good to eat!” Charlie looked at the plate in dismay. How could she live with herself to destroy such a masterpiece?

Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t share her sentiments. He nudged her shoulder before gifting her a fork. “Now, now dear, it won’t be as tasty if you let it cool.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Mom.”

“Thank you, I try to emulate my role models as best as I can.”

Readying herself, Charlie speared a little bit of the egg and the apple and gently let it rest on her tongue.

It was—!

Voice dry, Alastor couldn’t help but comment, “I take it you like it?”

Charlie couldn’t answer. She bobbed her head up and down in obvious approval before grabbing a bigger piece and greedily chewing it.

“It’s sweet! And savory!” After hastily swallowing another piece of the omelette, she looked up at her business partner in wonderment. “Are all humans good at combining things like these and making it taste good?”

“Nope! Just me!”

“Well, in that case,” Charlie gathered a bit of her food and beckoned for Alastor to come close. “You should also have a chance to enjoy your food!”

This time, in surprise, Alastor’s radio static began to grow haywire. Channels were flipped from one to another at a speed that blurred and superimposed different sounds and audio cues. There were bells ringing, voices overlapping one another; she could even detect a small snippet of her singing when she first advertised the hotel on the news. Just when the mishmash of audio chaos began to reach its peak, Alastor’s radio was abruptly switched off as if someone twisted the dial with a jerk.

“Pardon?”

“I think I should be the one asking that,” Charlie murmured. What the Hell was that? “But go on.”

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Charlie.” Alastor fiddled with the bow tie around his throat. Whatever bravado he usually displayed had dimmed and he seemed… cautious. “Sweets aren’t meant for me.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You don’t like sweets!” Her shriek could have caused glass to shatter. “How can you not like sweets?”

“Careful, dear, there are others—“

“But you don’t like sweets.”

Not used to being interrupted, Alastor’s lips seemed to droop a little at the corners. There was a warning for Charlie to remember her place, but she was the Princess of Hell goddamnit and she wasn’t going to let this matter slide.

“That would be correct, yes.”

“Exposure therapy.”

This time, it was Alastor’s eyes that widened like saucers. For the third time that night, a record scratch blared throughout the silence of the kitchen, which might have startled Charlie a few hours ago, but now…

Now she was a woman on a mission.

“Come again?”

Charlie slapped a fist on top of her palm as a manic gleam overcame her eyes. “I read about it from a psychology textbook. Exposure therapy is where you overcome a fear by gradually overcoming it in small doses.”

Alastor chuckled—was that nervousness? “If you recall, I only said that sweets weren’t for me. I have no fear of sugar.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind therapy.”

“In order to continue, you’ll have to receive my consent...which I’m not willing to give.”

Charlie made a noise that was a cross between a huff and a groan. Suddenly, a smirk befitting that of any of the common mischievous imps that wandered the bowels of Hell darkened her features.

“I’m not a psychiatrist, so I don’t need consent.” She leaned towards Alastor as if to invade his personal space. “Some good fashioned peer pressure will do just fine.”

Alastor quirked a brow at that.

“Oh, come on! Will a pretty, pretty please do?”

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. He did that partly because this wasn’t how he envisioned his morning to go and well… he was also shielding his eyes from Charlie’s searching gaze.

“Fine. If you must.”

“Then open wide!”

“Op—?”

He felt confused and disoriented and then—His mouth closed upon the taste of something so sweet, yet so savory at the same time. The flavor assaulted his tongue; all he could think about was how he could barely chew and swallow the apple omelette down his throat. He was dimly aware of how the fork left his mouth and that Charlie was smiling at him with a grin so wide, he could feel his mouth twitch up slightly in response.

Grins and laughter were highly infectious things.

Finally, his throat’s muscles began to obey him and he swallowed, the residue of something sweet and savory coating his tongue.

“I—” He stepped away from the Princess of Hell as he fiddled with his bow tie. “—that was informative.” He cleared his throat and was almost back at the exit before Charlie stopped him once more.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow early in the morning again?”

He turned around. Slowly. “And what makes you say that?”

Her smirk grew even more mischievous.

“Because… exposure therapy only works if there is repetition and done with increasing doses.”

Alastor sighed before sending her a gentle smile. “I look forward to it, dear.”  

[ajokeformur-ray]

I'd love to see what you do with that imagine I had about how Arthur treats me during one of my bad depression days. Thank you so much love!

A link to the imagine that @amalthea9 mentions is HERE. I used this as inspiration for this piece; I hope it’s what you were after! Just know that even if all you can do on any given day is wake up, Arthur would be so proud of you. He gets it. He sees and he loves you.

I wrote this for everyone who needs some comfort. I drew upon a dark place in me to write this, so I’m feeling a bit fragile now. However, if it comforts you, then it’s worth it. Please know I’m always here for anyone who wants to talk to me about anything. Even if there’s nothing I can do, just knowing that someone is listening can mean the world.

Look after yourself, my loves, and treat yourself the way Arthur would want you to. You can do it. He knows you can.

Water is a key theme in this imagine, because it’s large and heavy and it can easily consume you; I thought it very relevant. To even fit in with the theme, I cried, too, though that was more of a byproduct than an actual intent. Do let me know what you think x

Italics = That’s Life. Frank Sinatra.

Word count: 1, 457.

“Oh, love,” Arthur sighed from the doorway of your shared bedroom. 

You were lying in exactly the same position that he had left you in this morning. Your hair was tangled and needed a wash, you were wearing three day old pyjamas, and you had been sleeping on and off for most of the day. The blankets that lay over your curled up form were just as heavy as the rain clouds in your heart; your soul was weighted down by all that water, and though much of it was dispelled out of your tear ducts, nothing was helping you. 

It wasn’t a physical malady which had kept you in bed all day, but an ailment of the mind, and they were so much more dangerous than any physical one.

You barely reacted to Arthur’s greeting, even as he walked over to the bed and toed his shoes off. He had been at work for sixteen hours, but no matter how exhausted he felt, nothing distressed him more than seeing you so beaten down and weathered by the world. Reality was cruel, humans were underhanded, and the demons inside your mind poisoned you against yourself every which way.

Slowly did Arthur climb under the sheets, face paint still clinging to the sharp corners of his angelic face, and tenderly did he reach over to touch your shoulder. You jumped under his touch and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. You rolled, then, and the sight of the raw pain, the torment in your eyes, made Arthur’s heart catch in his throat. Unbidden did his own tears spring to his eyes, and as they rolled down his cheeks, you reached out gently and brushed his tears away.

“Please don’t cry.” You murmured, shuffling close enough that Arthur was able to wrap his arms around you and bring you tightly into his chest. His nose inhaled your scent and he closed his eyes, feeling wave after wave of sadness and sorrow, anger and rage, and a darkness which was altogether frightening in the way it threatened to take over every part of him.

He laughed exactly once without humour and the noise threatened to break you out of your mood faster than anything else that he could have done. Instead, you pushed one of your legs between his, and pulled yourself even closer. You were pressed against every line of him, and the fading smell of cigarettes and the subtle scent of his cologne filled your senses.

The feeling of coming home consumed you and you closed your eyes, just letting the vicious waters of your mind settle into a calmer tide.

“I said, that’s life and as funny as it may seemSome people get their kicksStompin’ on a dreamBut I don’t let it, let it get me down‘Cause this fine old world it keeps spinnin’ around.” Arthur sung softly, his nose still buried in your greasy hair, and as he sang, his slender fingers tapped the beat, his digits dancing up and down your spine. It was making you smile, he was making you smile. He had no idea the power he had over you, what he was able to do to you just by being himself.

“How was your day?” You were desperate to not only hear Arthur’s voice as his song faded out - it seemed he had sung that particular part on purpose, wanting to tell you something the only way in which he felt free to express himself; music was in his soul and he showed it to you so often - but also you felt a genuine need to know how he was feeling. How could you lay there and take comfort from him, if he was himself needing that which he was so selflessly giving to you? It wouldn’t be the first time that you would comfort each other by giving and taking in equal measures, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last time. You loved every part of your relationship together.

“It was fine,” Arthur sighed casually, attempting to distract you by placing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Liar,” You smiled despite yourself. “Tell me about it.”

So he did. Arthur told you all about his day, and when he got to the part about Hoyt being rude and callous to him, you peppered his face with kisses, running  your fingers through his hair and making sure that he knew just how loved he was. Depression was a companion in your relationship, but it was an unwelcome one, and together would the two of you act as an anchor for the other; if one went down, the other would too. You were perfectly balanced on the deep waters of life, and together would you always come out victorious.

Some time later, when Arthur had told you all that he had thought about during the day, all the things he had daydreamed about doing with you - coming home to you, having dinner together, laying just like this afterwards, maybe dancing when the Murray Show was finished - and all the jokes he had thought of that day (he earned himself one or two genuine chuckles, and then was he able to relax as he breathed in deeply with his whole body; no day was a good day without hearing your laugh… it was simply a day), the two of you lapsed into silence.

You had nothing to say. Arthur knew what was going on in your mind, so familiar was he to the very same ailment, and so there was little point in talking about it. That continuous heavy feeling deep within you when you woke up and when you went to bed never went away. You woke with it and you slept with it, and always was it there, come rain or shine. It seemed you could never shift it away for long. 

“It’s okay, you know.” Arthur held your face gently in his hands as he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. You wrinkled your nose and he giggled at how cute you were. 

“What is?”

“Staying in bed all day. I don’t know,” he exhaled roughly, his breath washing over your face. He smelled of cigarettes and cheap coffee and instantly did you know that he hadn’t eaten all day. Again. “Sometimes you just gotta… be.” He spoke like he was confessing a secret to you, and again were you forced to realise the depths of Arthur’s own oceans, the bottoms of which were forbidden, murky and altogether uncharted. Not even he was aware of just what was below the surface of his psyche’s iceberg, and it seemed almost instinctive for you to know that never should he discover what was hidden there; you had a feeling it would tip him over what precipice he spent his life desperately clinging to.

You would always be there to extend a hand to him, to pull him up beside you, where he belonged.

Some time later did Arthur leave your safe haven to get some food for the both of you. It wasn’t anything fancy or even especially healthy; just some packet macaroni cheese that he could easily whip up without having to be away from you for too long. You protested, saying that you weren’t hungry (and thinking of your physical appearance at the same time), but Arthur fixed you with a look that left no room for argument. Holding your gaze firmly in his did he lift his spoon to his lips, taking a bite. He chewed exactly three times before he swallowed, and only after he saw you copy his movements did he allow you to look away, to escape his silent scrutiny.

You ate slowly, without feeling, but Arthur made it known just how proud he was of you. He whisked your bowl away, planting a kiss on the top of your head, and almost as soon as he was gone was he back, practically throwing himself down beside you as he pulled you safely into the cage of his embrace. You simply lay together, lost inside your own minds, but you kept each other grounded with caresses, kisses and soft smiles.

You weren’t okay and you likely wouldn’t be for some time, but even if all you could do in a given day was wake up, Arthur would be right there beside you cheering you on. He loved you and, no matter how tempestuous your storms became, no matter how rocky your shores washed up as, he would be holding your hand the whole time.

You were his Y/N and for that simple fact, he would go to the ends of the earth for you.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes@onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman @joker-is-my-hero @lazyloosah @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna

[maxineswritingcenter]

Home - Dean Winchester x fem!reader

@happy-little-winchester: could i maybe ask for a slightly angsty deanxreader, where after they fight on a hunt, she goes missing, and it takes them a while to find her, bc demons kidnapped her, and over the like six or so months dean realizes his feelings and he gets v protective when they find her, and then just soft dean refusing to let her go, also i loved the prequel to the other one i requested, thank you!! :)

Okie dokie! Let’s get into it! Also took some inspiration from the song Home - X Ambassadors, Bebe Rexa and MGK

TW: there may some some added violence as requested but nothing more than what would be shown in the show, we’re keeping it PG - 13.

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

When it came to hunting, one would think the last thing anyone would have to worry about were the people you ran with. Hunting was hard, there was no doubt about it. All the years of blood, sweat and tears  you pour into the job. All the loss and mental strain it puts on should be forever in the back of your find.

But lately, the hunts were nothing to the scraps (Y/N) would get into with Dean. When a match hits gas there is bound to be an explosive reaction. It baffled Sam to say the least, it seemed like recently his friend and his brother were constantly butting heads and having screaming matches late into the night until someone would leave the motel and sit in the impala for a few hours. 

They were on their way to, what was at this point in their lives, a routine demon exorcism.  In and out with a flask of holy water and some Latin. 

(Y/N) sat in the back seat, thinking back with when she first joined the Winchesters. She had been a runaway who turned to hunting for cash. But even that wasn’t enough. After the hunt, Sam had offered for her to join them and she accepted. Dean had made her feel welcome with a six pack of beer for them to share and soft rock playing on the radio while Sam had gone to make a supply run.

“When do you think you’ll find home?” She asked. And he had smiled and took a swig from his beer before answering. 

“I don’t know. But’ll know it when I find it. Home is the place where I can go to relax, get some stress off my shoulders. Maybe we’ll all get there someday.”

“Hey!” Dean’s bark had shook (Y/N) from her memory, and her disdain for him returned, “You gonna quit daydreaming or are you gonna finish this hunt?” Sam was rolling his eyes from the passenger seat. 

“Ya know what, I was daydreaming. Of the day when I shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the leather of my boot.” She spat. 

“That’ll be the day, sweetheart.” He sneered. 

“Can you guys stop for five minutes?” Sam got between the two of them before they could continue, “After this hunt, we need a vacation or something because you’re at each other’s throats all the time.”  

“That’s a good idea, Sam. Maybe Dean will finally relax a little and get off my back.” 

“Ya well, after this vacation maybe don’t come back at all.” Dean looked at her in the reflection of the dashboard mirror. (Y?N felt the hurt and anger build up in her chest but she swallowed it down. 

“Fine,” She opened her car door, “Dick.” 

“Bitch.” Dean opened his car door and they both exited to impala. Leaving Sam to rub his temples for a moment and dread the upcoming hunt. 

- 

After the demon was dead, Dean and Sam had taken the body to the back for a salt and burn before it was buried. (Y/N) stayed behind in the house to recollect her thoughts. Sam was right. This whole situation with Dean getting out of hand and it needed to end. But after what Dean said, would he even be willing to make amends. With how stubborn he was, how could-

The floorboards creaking made her spin around, pistol in her hand. 

Outside Dean and Sam had just finished putting the last shovel fulls of soil onto the body when they heard three gunshots come from inside the house. They spared each other a glance before they ran back to the abandoned building. Dean was the first to go back in, going to the living area where he had last seen (Y/N). There were three spent shell casing and blood. 

“Get your hands offa me you SORRY SONS A’BITCHES!” He heard her shout. He drew his gun and ran towards her voice. 

“(Y/N)!” 

“DEAN!” 

Dean ran out the front door, Sam trailing behind him, in time for him to watch an unmarked car speed out of the driveway. The brother quickly got into their car, starting her up and speeding behind them. Dean gripped the steering wheel, getting closer and closer to the car. Through the back window, the brothers could see her struggling against the men in the back, fighting with all her might. Dean eventually made his way so he was driving besides them on the two lane highway. The man in the front, eyes as black as night was jerking the car, trying to ram them off the road, but Dean was jerking right back. Sparks and metal was flying between the two vehicles. 

“Dean!” Sam’s eyes were wide as he spotted the semi truck heading their way. Dean looked back at the road in time to swerve out of the way and driving into a ditch. The car was in rough shape. Dean frantically tried to restart it but she just wouldn’t turn over. He just had to watched as the impala puttered and demons’ car faded off into the distance with (Y/N) inside it. 

- 

“Hello, boys-” Before Crowley could even comprehend where he was or what was going on when Dean’s fist made contact with his face. He stumbled back, Dean grabbing him by the collar of his suit and pressing him against the wall. Squirrel had on his angry eyes and that didn’t mean anything good. 

Crowley wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, “Kinky, didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“Where is she?” Dean growled through his teeth. The bunker was littered with maps and papers since they had gotten home last night, trying to find any sort of information on where (Y/N) could be. 

“Where’s who?”

“Don’t act dumb, I watched your guys drag her into a car and drive away with her. Now either you tell me where (Y/N) is, I’m gonna personally send you back to whatever hell pit you came from.” 

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the hunter for a moment then sighed, “For just a moment, I would like you to think if it isn’t too hard for you. Minks is the only person makes negotiating with you two tolerable so why in the unholy hell would I take her?!” Dean stared a moment but then let go, back away and going back to the world map table. 

“Look, Crowley, no offense, but when comes to demons; you’re the one to go to.” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“None taken. So some demons take her and you have no idea where she is? Getting a little rusty, are we?” The demon king taunted. 

Sam shook his head, “We’ve tried a dozen locator spells, Cass has got angels searching all of creation at this point. It’s like she just disappeared.”

- 

(Y/N) woke up slowly, it didn't take much for her eyes to adjust seeing as she was in a dark room, handcuffed and tied to the chair she was sitting in. Suddenly, a door opened across the room, shining bright light inside causing her to wince. But now she could see all the warding that were painted on every inch of the wall. A woman walked in, her heels clicking on the cement floor. In her hand was a glass of what looked like water. She stopped in front of (Y/N) and held the glass to her lips. She only looked from the woman to the glass. 

“We didn’t bring you here to kill you, just drink it.” She said, tilting the glass so the water touched her lips. (Y/N) drank the water, it soothed her aching throat. When it was gone the woman back away and crossed her arms. 

“Alright, as soon as you tell us what we want; you can go. Deal?” She smiled. 

“I’m not really one to make deals with demons, you’ll have to talk to my associates about that one.” (Y/N) smirked. The smile left the demons lips and her eyes went black. 

“Just tell us where the Winchester’s home base is and we’ll kill you quickly.” She threatened. 

‘Why? You gonna send a postcard? Oh! Could you send one of those edible arrangements, I heard they’re to die for-” (Y/N) was cut off by a sharp smack to the face. (Y/N) paused a moment before looking up at the demon, licking the blood from her split lip. 

“Listen, bitch, any minute now Dean and Sam are gonna be busting down your doors and I’ll be outta here dancing on your grave just in time for dinner. So why don’t you do us both a favor and take the loss.” (Y/N) spat, blood and spit landing on the woman’s face. The demon wiped it away with the sleeve of her shirt. 

“Girly, they have no idea where you are. But if they do, I’ll take pleasure in showing them what’s left of you before I use them as a chew toy for my hell hounds.” 

“Bite me, bitch.” (Y/N) snapped. The demon hummed to herself. 

“Agares.” She called and a man entered holding a very sharp looking knife, “Why don’t you give our guest a warm welcome.” The demon walked out the door and shut it behind her. As she walked away, she could hear the screaming and crying from their prisoner fading as she walked.

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

So this will be part one for this new series! I’m excited for it. Also don’t come for me for how I spelled Castiel’s nickname, that’s how its spelled in Sam’s phone. Fight the writers, not me

Read part 2 here!

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

Send me a message if you would like to be added to the general tag of if you want to be added to a tag for this fic!

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- @hobby27

- @overlooktorrance

- @vicmc624

- @ria132love

- @lilulo-12

- @teenwaywardasgardian

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[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

True or False

Summary: Dean’s inability to talk feelings and emotions with you forces you to try a different strategy in hopes of getting him to finally open up.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3K

Inspired: By this post from @spn-imagines-nation

A/N: A HUGE special thanks to @pink1031. Not just for beta’ing this oneshot but also for encouraging me to actually post it and let other people read it as well. This is my first time posting something of my own on here but worry not, I will continue reblogging my favorites from you guys as I always do!

|| JJ’s Masterlist || Tip me <3

Dean descended the stairs to the war room two steps at a time, the wall slightly trembling from how hard he had slammed the bunker door shut behind himself. Within seconds, Sam was in front of his brother to hold him back. “Where is she?” he said through gritted teeth. “I know she’s back, Sammy. I saw her car parked in the garage as if she never left.”

But you did leave, didn’t Dean know it. He had been out looking for you the second he found your room empty the morning before. Not even a note left behind. Even he had had better manners when he was a demon for crying out loud.

“I really think you should calm down first, before you go talk to her,” Sam advised, but the dead-stare he received from his brother right after made him back up a little.

That’s when your light footsteps sounded from the hallway. As soon as your eyes met Dean’s, the man’s entire attitude changed. You had seen it before, more times than you could count. It was the sight of his walls being pulled right back up to lock you out of whatever he was thinking and feeling.

Your face fell, but only for a moment. Within seconds you had mirrored his indifferent expression. “Dean,” you spoke awkwardly, clearing your throat.

“Y/N.”

The silence that followed weighed heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if it was why Sam left the room, or if he just wanted to give you and Dean a moment to talk in private. Either way, there wasn’t any talking for minutes, though they felt like hours. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up.

“Where were you?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back. After what you did, leaving like that, you didn’t have the right to ask such a question.

It seemed that Dean agreed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, but he only let himself show emotion for a split second. “Where were you?” he then recited.

Drawing your eyebrows up high you said, “I’m surprised you care, seeing as y-“

“I don’t,” Dean interrupted you mid-sentence. The coldness of his voice made your stomach ache. “Forget I asked.” He turned on his heels and was out of the room in only a few quick strides.

A voice in your head tried telling you it had been a mistake coming back so soon, or coming back at all for that matter. That you should have just stayed away. You were still wondering this an hour later, standing in the middle of your room, staring at the bag on your bed. Maybe it should stay packed, ready for another solo-trip. The thought was appealing for only a second before you told yourself you were done running. That was already Dean’s MO, you were better than that. Only seconds later it turned out, so was Dean.

His knock was harsh but after a quick pause, his voice calling your name sounded the complete opposite.

You cleared your throat and quickly shoved the bag off the mattress, kicking it underneath the bed. “Come in,” you said, a hand dragging through your hair as you turned to watch the door open and a defeated looking Dean walk in.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him. You noticed he kept his head down, not looking you in the eye until he finally found three simple but heavily weighing words to say.

“We should talk.”

Your mouth was dry, your hands clammy. This was it; the moment you were finally going to have the conversation you had been so anxiously trying to prepare for in your head since you drove off the day before. You wondered if Dean came to talk to you about this of his own accord or if maybe Sam talked to him. Either way, you decided it best not to ask. “We should,” you replied instead. A brave little step toward Dean followed.

Dean followed the movement of your feet with his eyes before focusing back on your face. “Look,” he started after taking a breath, “I��m not a complete idiot, all right? I’m not entirely clueless. I know the fight we had was bad, but I never expected you to… to just…” He made some wild gestures with his arms instead of finishing his sentence and it was enough.

You knew he was pissed at you for disappearing without a word. Even a little text letting him know you were okay would have been better than the complete silence you left him with. But you couldn’t do that because it wouldn’t have been true. You wouldn’t be okay until both of you finally said what you had to say.

Your eyes stood sad as you stared into his. “You can only push me away and expect me to be waiting till you pull me back in so many times, Dean.”

“Sweetheart, I-“ His hand went up to drag over his face and he scratched the scruff on his chin that was longer than normal. You knew why he hadn’t shaved; he had been too busy looking for you. If only he could admit to doing so. But he couldn’t, because it would mean he was admitting to needing you as much as you needed him.

“I just want to hear you say it,” you said, taking another step closer. “Even if it’s only once, I need to know that you can admit it to yourself.”

Dean’s lips parted as if he was going to say something and your heart skipped a beat thinking he really would this time. Then they closed and all you got was a pained expression and a shake of his head.

“Right.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding and pursed your lips into a tight line. “That’s okay. That’s fine, really. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Y/N, please, I-“

“I said that it’s fine,” you interrupted him, “not that it’s finished. We just need a different approach.” An idea had popped into your head that gave you a new sense of hope and courage. “How about we play a game?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and his mood changed in immediate response to yours doing the same. He watched as you reached for his hand and his large fingers gladly closed around your smaller ones. After letting you pull him towards the bed, he sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress. Before he could even ask what kind of game you were talking about, you had already started rambling away with that little sparkle of determination in your eyes he adored so much.

“We’re having some clear issues in communication here,” you stated the obvious. “I might say too much at times and you tend to hold back when perhaps you shouldn’t. Actually, when you really obviously shouldn’t.” You just couldn’t help yourself. “But let’s not get into that right away. Let’s keep it short and simple instead. I think we can both handle that and, who knows, it might actually help us both say and hear the things we need to.”

Dean’s tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips before pulling them up into a soft smile. “Sure,” he said, even though he had no idea where you were going with this. “Why not?” He might not know what game you were planning on introducing to him but he did know he’d try anything that could result in things being well between the two of you again.

“Okay, good,” you said, clearly relieved he had agreed to this newly improvised plan. You let go of Dean’s hand to use both of your own to gesture while you spoke. “Here’s what’s going to happen; I give you a simple short statement. Just one at a time. And all you have to do is say if it’s true or false. You got it? Two possible answers, true or false. It’s that easy. Think you’ll be able to manage?”

Dean wasn’t sure how you’d react if he let out a laugh so he suppressed the chuckle and put on his most serious face. “Absolutely,” he said. “True or false, I can do that.” He pushed up his bottom lip and nodded in agreement.

You clasped your hands together and started chewing on your bottom lip, a giveaway sign for Dean that you were deep in thought. When you figured out what you thought to be the best way to start you said, “It was a dick move of me to disappear without leaving any kind of note. True or false?”

Dean scoffed. “Easy,” he said. “True.”

The way he answered earned him a nasty look from you. With narrowed eyes you kindly reminded him, “Just the one word. No personal commentary, thanks.” You allowed yourself to relax before continuing this new way of conversation.

“You went looking for me.”

Dean was quiet for just a moment. “True,” he then admitted.

You knew it was big for Dean to admit this and not just go back to denying he cared at all. Still, you wanted more and you knew this was the closest you had ever gotten to making him give it to you.

“You went looking for me,” you said again, only this time you added, “because you’re afraid to lose me.”

“True.” The answer came quicker this time. It seemed Dean was opening up to you, like you had been wanting him to since things started between the two of you. Again, you needed more.

You didn’t just need Dean to make sure you wouldn’t leave again. You needed him to know why you left the first time. Even though you had promised short simple statements beforehand you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “You understand that you are the one who drove me to pack up and leave because you kept pushing me away.”

“What?” came Dean’s immediate response. His eyes went wide and you could see your words had hurt him. “Y/N, that’s not fair! I d-”

“Dean.”

His sudden burst of dander disappeared as quickly as it had come up. However, an answer did not follow.

“You know the rules,” you reminded him, “only two possible answers. True or false?”

Still, it stayed quiet for a long moment. You studied Dean’s face but he was no longer giving anything away, not even in those eyes you liked to tell yourself you could read so well.

Then, finally, that same word rolled off his tongue again. “True.”

You pushed a sigh past your lips and felt yourself move closer to the man next to you. In the past couple minutes you had gotten Dean to admit more to you than you ever thought he would. Maybe it hadn’t been entirely in his own words, but it was enough for you. It gave you the confidence to keep going and reach for the connection you feared to have lost only hours ago.

“You need me in your life, by your side, as much as I long to be right there.” As you spoke you kept inching closer to him. Eventually your knees were touching, then the outer sides of your thighs. When Dean answered, he made your heart grow ten sizes.

“I need you in my life, just as much as you need me.” He shook his head before correcting himself quickly. “No, screw that. I need you way more than you need me. You had the courage to walk away from this but, hell, I would be nothing without you. I am nothing without you.”

He had managed to completely throw you off balance with his words. His words. He had said it this time, out loud, to you. All you could think of for a reply was, “You’re only supposed to use…” You didn’t even bother finishing your sentence, too distracted by the warmth you were suddenly feeling through your entire body.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “The one word?” he finished for you. “You’re right, I’m sorry. True. It’s all true. All the things you said, they’re true. But you already knew that, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He raised an eyebrow suspiciously but there was a fond smile on his face as he awaited your response.

You were still speechless, getting lost in the intense look his gorgeous green eyes were giving you. All you could do was bob your head up and down in a slow nod.

“Well then,” Dean continued, clearly amused by the change in conversation moderator. “I have a statement for you.”

Again, all you could do was nod and stare. There was nothing but adoration in your eyes.

Dean dipped his head down so your faces were barely inches apart. You could feel his hot breath on your skin and leaned in a little closer. But Dean stopped you by gently cupping your cheek and pulling back slightly to really look at you. He said, “If I kissed you right now, you would pull away.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to his plump lips and back up to his eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You answered in a soft whisper.

“False.”

You had barely gotten the word out before Dean’s lips crashed to yours in a passionate kiss. With that, he gave you, and had given you, everything you needed. And more.

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 05

Warning: Swearing, mention of mental illness, Beetlejuice being smut and creepy... As always.

Ari was sitting on the side of her bed, head in her palms, breathing heavily.

- Either you are telling the truth or I'm going crazy. Or I'm tripping. Even though I don't do drugs. - Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. He was standing before her, with his hands crossed across his chest. His hair was in a light green shade with some light pink streaks in it.

- As I said previously, down in the living room you idiots, on purpose, bought a haunted house. - Ari looked up and nodded sarcastically. He was right, after all. - Seriously, what did you think, that you'll get unicorns?!

- Ghosts! - shouted Ari in a muffled voice. She didn't want her sisters to hear that she was talking to herself... But the hissing and scratching of Minerva before the door surely made a helping white-noise.

- Well I'm the leveled-up version of those suckers. - said Beetlejuice proudly and sat down next to Ari. - You might say I'm the ghost with the most! - the girl chuckled.

- Okay, if you really are the improved version of a ghost... - she shrugged - ...prove it!

- EEEEEH! - out of a sudden Beetlejuice imitated the sound of a siren which made Ari jump a bit. - Can't do that.

- Why?

- I can't interact with the human world. Only ghosts can do that. I can posess electronics and appear as smoke in mirrors, max. - Ari stood up and went to her full-size mirror.

- SHOW MEEEE! - she said in an excited voice. Even though she would really loved to talk to a demon, she thought this action would prove the fact that it's just her consciousness playing games with her and that she had to see a psychiatrist again, but a slightly human-shaped, green-ish white-ish smoke-shape appeared behind her and her lights started twitching.

- Helloouuu... - whispered Beetlejuice into her ear in a funny voice which didn't make her jump at all... No, it actually made her giggle. Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows. That was a first. Someone actually liked his jokes and funny voices. Weird.

- Ohmygodsthisissocool! - Ari was talking very fast and in a very high-pitched voice. She acted like a little girl, excited for her Christmas present. That made Beetlejuice smile. Nobody was that happy for him... Like... Ever. Ari turned around to where the voice came from the last time. - Gee I can't believe I am actually talking to a spectre. What are you doing normally? Just float around the house? Also, most of the time why do you sound like you just swallowed a cheese grater? - she stopped for a moment and continued in a more serious voice. - Also why do I hear you exactly? That bugs me a bit... to be honest.

- First: yeah, mostly I just follow you guys everywhere I can, floating around you. Watching. - he lowered his voice, his lips could almost touch Ari's ear. - I know. Very creepy. - Ari shivered like something just ran across her back. She hated being followed. She had bad experiences with that in the past. She noted to herself that she had to tell this demon not to do that oh so silently. - Second: you can't ask why does somebody sound like that, Karen! - he said sarcastically then went back to normal voice. - Also I'm dead, rotting, lower your expectations to that. Third: I have no idea but it's gonna be so much fun! - now he sounded like a child. He started to run around Ari in circles and clap little claps while he was talking. - It surely is interesting, but eh, who cares, the important thing is that now we can talk properly! And you can answer! And you can sing the songs I request! And react to my lewd comments! And we could have sleepovers and shit since now I can come in! - he changed into a more seductive tone and leaned closer to Ari. - Obviously R rated sleepovers cause I am a very sexual handsome being who you could totally not resist. - the girl blushed a little which made Beetlejuice even more horny than usual. But since he knew he couldn't do anything with her at the moment, he changed back to normal voice. - By the way I like what you did with the room, seeing it for the first time and I am shooketh how many stuff here is relating to the whole being dead thing. Babes, you have a problem. A cherishable, cute problem, but still a problem. - Ari laughed. Very loudly.

No surprise Beetlejuice liked her room. Although she followed her own path, she really liked the whole (kind of mainstream by now) witchy-gothic aesthetic and since horror was her sweet spot since she was a child, she had to decorate her bedroom in a certain way. Starting from the chandelier, which was basically a huge glowing pumpkin with wrought-iron tendrils all over it, the color of the ceiling changed from light orange to a pretty pumpkin colour, then continuing on the walls it slowly turned into a dark coppery reddish-orange. The hardwood floor was fully covered in soft grey carpet with little bats on it. There was a fake bat-skeleton, a fake raven-skeleton and little felted dolls in the form of the three witches from Hocus Pocus hanging from the chandelier. To the right of her door (which, by the way, was painted dark grey and had a "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc" plaque on it), there was a big, wall-to-wall cabinet painted black with a full-size mirror on the right, and a dressing table in the middle embedded in it. Her makeup brushes and eyeshadows were already scattered around it 'cause she was messy. To the left of her door there was a shelf in the shape of the triple moon, with horror-movie figurines, crystals, Funko Pops and random skulls on it. Around it, family photos. Next to that, in the corner, there was a black, coffin-shaped shoe cabinet with pumpkin-coloured insides and leds in it, and with a sign that said "Dracula" on top of it. On the opposite wall, below the window there was Ari's sewing-corner with 2 sewing machines on the table. On the wall, opposing the wall-to-wall cabinet there was a ram skull, engraved with Edgar Allan Poe's s silhouette, with huge black horns curling backwards. Under it, on the wrought-iron bed there was a blanket with the bride of Frankenstein painted on it, and many pillows. On the two sides of the bed, there were little "nightstands" which were basically cages. One worked as a cat-prison for Minerva, padded with a soft mattress, with a night-lamp grabbed by a zombie hand on top of it. The other held Ari's favourite books, and had a little altar on it for her "weird witchcraftsy shit", as Rei said many times before. In front of the bed there was a black chest, filled with random pieces of fabric and patterns for clothes, the top of it covered in soft black and white striped velvet. Next to that, there were 2 Paris dolls, one on each side.

- Thanks, I am the breathing, living version of Halloween. - she sat down before her dressing table, looking directly into the mirror so she could see the shape of the demon again. - And... Yeah, please stop the creeping around. At least when you come into a room where I'm at, just whistle or something so I could know that you're there. - she turned around, facing the middle of the room and blinked sweetly. - Please? - Beetlejuice sighed with resignation. He couldn't say no to those pretty, living eyes.

- If your pets even let me near you, then okay. Your stupid cat always hisses at me and won't let me come into your room... I mean I could float above her but I'm legitimately afraid for my afterlife around her, it's weird, I don't get it either. And your actually scary dog... I'm not even sure that's a dog, that looks like a wolf, so yeah, that mongrel almost ripped my arm off last week! You have to convience them that I'm not trying to hurt you! -  begged Beetlejuice. - I could only come up with you now cause I was faster than those suckers. - Ari stood up and went to the door where Minerva was still scratching the door into pieces.

- You know in many ancient cultures, dogs and cats were considered as guardians of the underworld or bodyguards for their owners against demons. For example in the Aztec religion, dogs were associated with Xolotl, the god of death. Or in Egypt cats were used as protectors against evil spirits.

- Thanks for the history lesson, miss-know-it-all. - said Beetlejuice sarcastically with a snort. Ari rolled her eyes.

- So I suppose they can see you, right?

- Yeah... I thought I'd use them to get you guys' attention but... - he stretched his arms out in Ari's direction. - ...I have you!

Ari smiled. She was still not sure he was not malevolent like those spirits from The Conjuring, but he didn't feel like someone with a super evil plan going down.

- You know maybe they just love me and want to protect me. - she sat back on her chair. - You know, Sirius is a tamascan, a guarddog, a wolf-type. He looks like he could rip you in half but actually he's a sweetheart. Yeah, his teeth are sharp as needles but he only uses them to chew up his toys. - Ari shrugged. - He doesn't even know how enormous he is. He looks very fierce and heisty but mostly he just sits on people's laps. - Beetlejuice floated right next to the girl again. He was so close Ari could feel that icy coldness on her skin again.

- You should sit on MY lap. - he said in an arousing voice. Ari looked the way the voice came from.

- Shut up. - she said in a sharp voice. BJ rolled his eyes and went a bit further. - Minerva would totally kill you though. She should be a very social breed, but she basically hates everybody and wants to kill everything that moves. So yeah, beware of the claws. They hurt more than you can imagine. - Ari held up one of her hands with a huge scratchmark on it. Beetlejuice chuckled.

- I don't feel pain.

- Oh you'd feel that, trust me!

Ari looked at her clock. It was almost 2 in the afternoon.

- Oh shit, man, I gotta go to work. First day, I can't be late. - she went to her bed and started to pack her sheet music rapidly into a red bag. Beetlejuice walked up to her and with hope in his eyes and fully green hair, he asked:

- Before you go... Can't you... Say my name 3 times? - Ari looked at his way with a raised eyebrow.

- Why do you want me to do that?

- Cause that would lift me out of this weird alternate state and I could roam earth while being seen! Now I can't leave this house but once being summoned, I could! And I haven't been out since literal decades! - he sounded so desperate. - Please don't make me beg... I will... I just... Okay you know what, I'm begging. - he threw himself on his knees and tried to grab Ari's trousers, but his hands went right through them. - I'm just so sick and tired of being invisible! - Ari made a weird little sound of shock.

- I don't even know your name, and you seriously think I would let you roam free? I just met ya...

- PLEASE! JUST DO IT!!! I WOULD DO ANYTHING, SCARE ANYONE, JUST PLEASE SAY IT! I SWEAR I'LL LEAVE SOON AFTER!!! - he was nearly crying, his hair started to turn into fully purple. Ari was thinking about her options. She could either let a wild entity roam free, or have someone murder her father or one of her exes and then just leave. That sounded good.

- That's a flattering offer so... Kay, what's your name then?

Beetlejuice stuttered.

- I... - he sighed. - I can't say it. - he said with total hopelessness in his voice and tears in his eyes. He sounded so miserable. Ari squatted down to him. She didn't even know, but she was looking straight into Beetlejuice's eyes. Her warm smile made him feel a bit better, but he was still miserable.

- Then how could I help you, Bug? - he stayed silent. That nickname actually sounded cute. - Yeah, I heard you munching on them. So let's stick with that name until I find out why do I hear you and what is your actual name, shall we? - she would've just pat his head if she could see him. He sounded so alone. She knew exactly how that felt.

- Kay. - said BJ in a repressed voice as he viped his tears and nose in his jacket. Ari wrinkled her nose at his direction, snapped up her bag and headed for the door. Beetlejuice got up quickly and floated before her, if nothing would've happened. - Wait, what am I supposed to do while you're gone? - Ari shrugged her shoulders.

- I don't know, haunt my sisters' electronics? Find out if they can interact with you too? - there was no answer so she just waved goodbye. - I'll be back at 11-ish. - and with that, she went to work.

But Beetlejuice was still there. He rubbed his hands maniacally and talked to himself in a very evil, raspy way.

- Oh I would love to do that. Of course, I might have to get a little... Mean... I might have to get a little... Nasty... But if you want me to act like a demon... Then I'll be a demon 😈

[xradinoxinterloperx]

Angel Dust is Kidnaped! (little part of chapter of a Fanfic)

Originally written in Spanish, roughtly translated

Vaggie was stunned, at first, she didn't even know what to think about what had happened, she had tried to follow the limousine in vain to have any clue who it was. And although she first thought that it could be a rando that simply wanted to have a taste of the spider drag , she soon realized that it was most likely that it was his former boss, the Overlord Valentino, pimp and porn producer who had exploited Angel Dust his entire career and had no reputation for treating his "employees" with the greatest delicacy. Not only knowing how battered could Angel get out  of this encounters but also encouraging the  spider to fall in his old vices again, especially  drugs and crime.. Vaggie knew that the fact that Angel was a hotel guest did not settle well with the demon Overlord, perhaps the day came that he wanted to claim what was his.

She would have to organize a rescue or a way to get Angel out of there. Not that he had taken too much love from the first Client of the Hotel. From the beginning and until now it was still causing problems and not really taking the issue of redemption seriously. But even because of that brainless buffon,  Vaggie  was willing to put herself at risk and not abandon him. 

She returned to the hotel with Niffty to seek help from Alastor and Charlie. But only Husk was there attending the reception and the entrance bar. The whole return and the matter of finding out about the limo had taken a while. It was still early, Alastor and Charlie could take time to return, seeing that they would be in charge of talking with some demons of a certain importance. She was at the crossroads of having to wait or make a dangerous decision.

She did not want to get alone in the turf of an Overlord, but perhaps she had no choice but to try to solve this herself, although dialogue with that demon would result in  some kind of extortion for sure. It had been a few hours already, and When she was not yet decided on what to do, she received a call. It was from Angel Dust nothing less. Maybe she was saved the trouble to go anywhere to hear the kind of blackmail the overlord got in mind.

Before  taking the call, she noticed that on the screen that recognized Angel Dust's contact photo was not  one  she had configured. It was probably a  photo take from his porn sets, probably after some scene, where Angel was naked on his back smiling at the camera with his  legs spread, revealing more than what the demon Moth had ever wanted to see from him. she cursed the wicked spider bitch before finally answering.

Vaggie: Angel!

Angel: Hey Vaggie-doll ... - there was a lot of background noise, music and voices alike.

Vaggie Are you alright? What the fuck happened?

Angel: Well, Valentino happened.

Vaggie: I know it, don't worry, we'll find a way to get you out of there….

She  heard the laugh on Angel's the other side of the line.

Angel: Hey hey easy ... you don't have to do  shit about that, everything is going well.

  Vaggie:  What the hell do you mean !? Whethever you like it or not we will not let that guy exploit you again. We will not let you leave the hotel so easy after all the problems you gave us, you piece of shit ...

Angel: Hey, stop pissing off and listen for once, ok? They don't want me for more than the day, they offered me work and they even paid me cleanly.

Vaggie:  What!? Do you think doing porn again is going to help us with what we  are trying to do at the hotel?, are you also going to get a tattoo of the hotel in your ass to shit yourself more on us? We are gonna have to deal with you after that come pinga  Valentino  uses you again. And the things that he  makes you do… you’ll come back all  beaten and drugged again ...

Angel: Nonono babe ... Valentino is not even here ...

Vaggie paused a moment.

Angel: In fact, it seems he took his slice and left. He wants me to work yes, but its a one day thing and with other people. Velvet is still here, though. But she had been protecting me and saying that all of that new "goody" me, is what they need. She wants me to work with a friend of her, a bug-faced  old wench director named Cify.

Vaggie:  Velvet? La Velvet ...

Angel: Yes, that lady- Angel got distracted talking to someone else - oh thank you sweetheart! You are sweet-pie.

Vaggie:  Angel? And you feel a little safer with that other crazy witch, are you nuts?

Angel: Hey, whatever you think you know about ... Vilvet - Angel chewed something - I know what she is capable of and i seen her done even worse, I know that ...  she can be unstable. But it seems she wants me  in one piece ...

Vaggie: What do they want you to do?

Angel: Well nothing out of the ordinary, they want  me to fuck somebody ... in the literal sexual way I mean.

Vaggie:  Ugh ... You don't had to clarify it.

Angel: I know, I know, but where is the trap you say? ... And there doesn't seem to be one. This gal  Cify is a pretentious  professional, all that  hipster underground-artist vibe you know? she even offered me an all-detailed contract just for working this day, and you know how important those things can be down here ...

Vaggie: That's why I wouldn't trust someone like you who can hardly read to revise one ...

Angel: Auch, well, fuck you too Vaggie ...

Vaggie: Angel - Vaggie got angry again.

Angel: Hey is my damn body and I'm fine with this,capisci? At this point it is more trouble to  back down- Angel sighed annoyed- Look, If I am calling you, it is because I  don’t want  you to lose your shit and do something stupid, because I do not want to cause trouble, all you would have to do is come and pick me up at the end of the day and see that everything is ok, does it sound good to you?

Vaggie: ... -Vaggie was silent on the line, only his sighs and hesitation could be heard.

Angel: In fact, Vaggie - Angel suddenly said in a slightly weird tone - Hehe..., about what they want me to do ... Maybe I have to ask you for advice. Not that I haven't done what they are asking before, but Ah ... it was  while ago since the last time , and the way they asked me to ... Well...

Angel hesitated, as if feeling a little modesty, that puzzled Vaggie more, since Angel Dust was the most shameless and vulgar person she had ever met.

Vaggie:  ... What the hell are you talking about? - Vaggie finally replied.

Angel: Well, it's weird, they just want me to be with a girl.