Summary: Being captured by hell, they want information about the Spellman's from you. Having a strong will, eventually Caliban get's assigned to you for torment. Yet after a while, he no longer can. Surprised that you show him kindness while hurt as he had shown you little.
Slowly you opened your eyes. Adjusting to the new lightning. Clearly you weren’t alone as you heard shuffling and chuckling around you. A smell of rotting overwhelming you as a presence came nearer. – “It’s waking up.” – the voice grumbled out. Their voice raspy. Groaning softly, you set your hands to push yourself up. Blinking rapidly to wake up. A pounding in your head. Your vision sharpened on a face as it made you stumble back. Frightened by the horrid face. The person laughed, gruesome teeth visible. – “Beelzebub.” – a voice spoke as the horrid figure seemed to listen to it.
A young man coming in sight, placing a hand on him. – “Give our guest some air.” – he spoke approaching more. Wary about him, you moved further back when he came nearer. With his devilish looks and dashing smile, he knelt down. – “Our guest will need her strength.” – he said reaching out to brush his fingers down your cheek. His touch made you shiver out a breath. The young man snapped his finger as two of the horrid figures approached. – “Take our guest to their chambers to get… comfortable.” – he smiled wickedly.
You got picked up from the ground by your arms. Dragged out as you screamed in protest. Knowing damn well you weren’t in Greendale anymore. Feet dragging over the ground, they led you through a maze of corridors. With each turn it got colder. Your eyes widened as they dragged you into the cold room. Nothing but stone cold walls and shackles. – “No, no, no!” – you screamed out, fighting with every might against them. The two of them pushed you onto the ground.
One of them grinning widely as the other one shackled your hands. Cuffing you on a metal chain so you couldn’t run. – “Enjoy your stay.” – one of them said as you caught a rotten smell from their mouth. Laughing mockingly, they left you. Pulling against your shackles, you hoped it would be old enough to perhaps break. Sadly it was not. Sturdy it held ground.
Defeated you pulled your knees up, wondering how on earth you got here. Hoping perhaps the Spellman’s would soon figure out that you are gone. Coming for you…
The door opened making you lift your head up. It felt like an eternity that they decided to come. You knew they would come. Your gut telling you they’d come. Beelzebub entered, smiling wickedly. Some flies circling around him. He clasped his hands together. – “Let’s set some ground rules.” – he started, slowly approaching. – “You answer correctly and I…I won’t hurt you.” – he added with little care. You moved against your shackles to resist. – “Tell me about the Spellman’s.” – he said.
His first question made clear why you were here. – “Go to hell!” - you shouted out. – “Already here girl.” – he said amusingly opening his hands presentable. Your eyes widened briefly at the thought of being in actual hell. – “Tell me about the Spellman’s.” – he repeated his question. You remained silence. Never in a million years would you tell on your friends. Beelzebub sighed loud. He moved his hand forwards. A chilling scream left your mouth at the burning feeling on your skin. You felt your pores open, sweat boiling on your skin.
Beelzebub lowered his hand making you gasp loud. – “The Spellman’s.” – he spoke coming to kneel in front of you. Your first reaction was to spit at him. Beelzebub closed his eyes, opening his mouth a bit before wiping the spit off his cheek. He moved his hand up again, making you scream in pain. Feeling as if the seven fires of hell were raining down on you. Screaming in agony, you curled up like a ball.
Squirming from the pain. – “The spellman’s!” – Beelzebub said impatient through his torture. You clenched your jaw, refusing to say a word. Beelzebub sighed loud. Unleashing even more pain on you. Your screams went through bone and merrow feeling your inside boil. After a long torment he finally got up, taking his leave. Beaten and broken, you laid on the ground. Fingers twitching a bit, not sure whether you were even still alive.
The doors opened as Beelzebub entered once more. Still broken from last time, you used all your strength to sit up. – “Are we ready to speak yet?” – he asked coming nearer. You kept quiet, glaring at him. Beelzebub kicked you back. You felt the force of his foot in your side as you crashed onto the hard floor. He set his foot on your wrist as your hand wriggled underneath it. – “Speak!” – he ordered out, flies buzzing around his head.
You cried in pain trying to get his foot off your wrist. Beelzebub groaned loud, removing his foot from your wrist. He gave your stomach a hard stomp with his foot. Making you curl up like a ball, crying in pain. – “You’ll die if you don’t speak.” – he told you. You weakly tried to pull yourself up, holding a hand against your bruised ribs. – “Then you’ll never get the information you need.” – you responded out of breath. Beelzebub showing you his teeth in anger.
“Let’s see how long you can keep quiet.” – he held his hand out, giving you excruciating pain once more. The cells filled with your screams as they were hearable from upstairs. Caliban who sat in his throne, barely affected by them as he continued to polish his crown. Beelzebub lowered his hand as you were worn out. Being tortured for a few days now in a row. You felt your body weaken. Not sure how much longer you could be so strong-willed. Panting loud, you barely could keep your head up. – “Well girl?” – he called out ready to give you more pain. – “Stop.” – you panted out. Beelzebub kept his hand down, tilting his head a bit.
“The… the Spellman’s…” – you breathed out needing a lot of strength to form your words. – “Yes.” – Beelzebub said excitedly. Then you started laughing. Manically as if you had lost all sanity. Beelzebub watched you in confusion. In anger that you had fooled him, he rose his hand. Causing you to suffocate on your own blood in your mouth. Gagging on the blood, you coughed loud. The blood getting spewed on across his face. Beelzebub got up, stumbling back. The blood staining your chin as you let your head fall down. He gave your body a soft kick to see any reaction.
You barely reacted, having fainted from the immense pain. Unable to get any information out of you, he returned to the throne room. Day after day. Week after week Beelzebub would visit your cells. Forcing you to speak about the Spellman’s. Each time you remained silent. Not uttering a word. Every silence was greeted with torment. Slowly weaking you till eventually you would break anyways. It was almost admirable how long you could withhold the torment. Any other human would’ve broken after the first few days. Beelzebub gained no progress with you as he begged the prince of Hell for another way. The prince of Hell had enough of Beelzebub’s failures as he assigned himself for the duties.
Weakened you lifted your head up. – “Your late Beelzebub.” – you breathed out as he wasn’t as punctual as usual. It took you a few moments to realize someone else had entered your cells. The prince of hell squatted down, taking a good look at you. He clicked his tongue, holding your head back to see your face. He let your head fall as you nearly fell over. – “I must say you are persistent Y/n.” – he said watching you. – “And who the hell are you?” – you breathed out having to do your upmost best to keep your head up.
The young man smiled. – “Caliban. Prince of hell.” – he addressed himself proudly. – “Beelzebub worn out? Pity I’ll miss him.” – you mocked with a chuckle. Caliban stroked his chin. – “You wouldn’t be laughing much more Y/n when I have my way with you.” – he spoke. – “Do your worst.” – you taunted him. Caliban gave your forehead a little push as it made you fall backwards. – “Looks like I don’t have to do much…” – he sighed out a little disappointing.
Caliban started tapping you against your cheek. – “Hey, hey Y/n! Wake up!” – he said wanting you awake for his torture. You weakly opened your eyes once more as he helped you sit up. Holding his hand on top of your head. – “Now Y/n, let’s have a chat about the Spellman’s.” – he started as your eyes widened feeling an immense pain in your head. Screaming it out as Caliban was smiling widely.
Inhaling deep he enjoyed to hear the pleasures of your pain and agony. Caliban let go of you as you fell down to the side. – “Done already? I’ve just begun Y/n.” – he teased. He nudged you against your body for you to wake up. When you weren’t moving much, he sighed irritated. Having nothing else to do, he got up, leaving once more.
Now every time you were tortured it was Caliban that blessed your cells with his presence. – “Y/n don’t make this harder than it is. Just speak.” – he would sigh out keeping you upright. – “Just kill me.” – you muttered out, having enough. Caliban’s eyes widened. – “What was that Y/n?” – he mocked with a smile. – “Stop…” – you breathed out unable to keep your eyes open. Losing the control over your body, your head fell forwards against his shoulder.
Caliban’s hand froze mid-air at the sudden touch from you. Your head slid to the side, losing contact with his shoulder. Your head was falling as Caliban caught you before your head could hit the ground. Staring down at you, he wondered what he was doing. Seeing your worn out expression. The clear bruises on your face and all over your body. As he knew some where his doing.
With a pained expression he let his hand brush up your cheek. – “Y/n?” – he whispered. You remained lifeless in his arms. Caliban slowly pulled your body up to his chest, cradling you. Overcome with a sense of shame and sorriness. He couldn’t hurt you anymore. You had suffered enough by his hand and Beelzebub’s. Caliban staid by your side till you gained conscious again. You were surprised to see him there. – “Easy Y/n.” – he said caringly making sure you were being careful. It made you feel a bit wary off him.
He gave you water and some bread to gain a bit of your strength. – “Is this a new technique? Show your prisoner kindness before killing them?” – you said keeping a close eye on him. Caliban shook his head. – “No… I…I am not going to hurt you anymore.” – he said making you stare surprised at him. – “I’m returning you to earth.” – he added. – “What… what about the Spellman’s?” – you answered, knowing he wanted information off them.
Caliban shook his head. – “I’m taking you home safely.” – he placed your hand caringly over yours. – “What… what about the others?” – you responded unsure. – “I am the prince of hell, they obey me.” – Caliban said with a certain airy vibe. – “Can you stand?” - he asked. You nodded, letting him help you up. Caliban undid you off your shackles as it felt good to be released from them. The bruise marks clear around your wrists. Caliban took your hands in his, observing the bruise marks.
Bringing your hands to his mouth, he kissed your knuckles. Lowering your hands, he came to your side, supporting you as he led you out of the cells. You were going on a slow pace as it felt weird to walk after being chained up for so long. Caliban held you tight, making sure you wouldn’t slip out of his grip. – “Keep your strength Y/n.” – he said walking slowly with you through the corridors. Caliban and you rounded a corner as you sunk through your knees. Caliban going down with you as he tumbled over some equipment.
Grunting loud, he turned over feeling a sting of pain in his chest. You gasped loud, seeing a cut on his chest. Brown liquid dripping down the wide cut. – “You are hurt!” – you called out moving to him. Caliban look down his chest, seeing the clear cut. It made him groan even louder. – “It is nothing.” – he answered, widening his eyes as you started ripping the bottom of your shirt. – “Hold still.” – you told him, pressing the piece of cloth against his cut. You moved his arm up, to go around his chest to tie it.
Caliban watched in wonder as you helped in. It pained him to see that despite everything you were still helping him. – “I hope it doesn’t sting too much.” – you said with a smile. Caliban held his hand against your cheek. – “You are a remarkable creature Y/n.” – he breathed out with admiration. – “Showing me kindness when I have shown you none.” – he went on. – “You have shown kindness to me by bringing me home.” – you responded, helping him back up. For Caliban was talking you home.
Summary: Reader has startling news for Zelda, which could bring them both more happiness that they would've thought possible.
(Some angst, then fluff)
PS. these things always end up WAY longer than I initially thought...
Enjoy!
Everything will be alright
You stood in Greendale, facing the Academy of Unseen Arts, feeling positively sick. Upon entering this door there would be no going back. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you pushed the double doors open. It hadn’t changed much since you visited last, perhaps half a decade ago, visiting Zelda. Your love affair with her had lasted for centuries, meeting once a few years. Seeing her always led to fireworks, in all the best of ways. It had always been easy with Zelda; she could be herself around you; and you around her.
The last time you had seen her, however, something was different. There was an urgency to her, as though seeing you was a remedy to whatever struggle she fought. You didn’t ask questions, you simply were. You were there for her in whatever capacity she needed, whether it was intimacy or a listening ear. And this time, after seeing her, had left you wanting more, too. Wanting her; the moment she stepped outside your house, you felt cold, missing her warmth. It was more than that though, a physical change you couldn’t explain. It had led you to seek healers world-wide, seeking an explanation. To state that the answer was unimaginable, was the understatement of the century. Thus, here you were, walking up the stairs to the chambers of the Directrix, to tell her something even you had difficulty to understand.
Knocking tentatively, you entered.
“I said I did not want to be disturbed, Hil-“. Her stern voice broke off as she lifted her gaze, removing her glasses.
Zelda was as stunningly beautiful as ever, her auburn hair shining in the afternoon sun. Her gaze softened as she met your eyes, searching, “Y/n?” She rose, stepping around her desk to meet you. “This is a pleasant surprise.” She husked as she moved closer to embrace you. As she placed her arms around your frame, you knew she could tell something was different. Felt it against her. She slowly let go, her eyes travelling down to your abdomen. Her face stiffened, the warmth you knew so well, faded.
Your heart sank.
“The child is yours. Ours, Zelda.” You said, feigning conviction.
Zelda scoffed, “That’s impossible.” She turned, finding her seat behind her desk once more, establishing a physical barrier between you.
Though saddened, you had anticipated this, “I understand that you’ll need some time.” You paused, drawing your coat closer to you in an attempt at hiding the slight swell of your stomach, “I’m staying at the Inn, close to town, once you’re ready to talk.” You finished in a statement, that she would, at some point be ready. Zelda didn’t respond, so you turned and left her office.
You were so consumed with your own thoughts that you didn’t look ahead, bumping into someone, “Y/n!” Hilda’s surprised voice shook you from your thoughts.
With some effort, you smiled at her, “Hello, Hilda.”
Hilda considered you for a moment, looking at the entrance of Zelda’s office, and back at you, before seemingly connecting the dots.
“Come on, dear, I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.”
Sipping tea in Hilda’s drawing room, seemed to lift some of the fog from your mind. So, you told Hilda everything. Of your surprise at discovering your pregnancy, thinking it impossible, as the last person you’d been with was Zelda, a woman. You told her of your travels across the continents to meet healers, to offer an explanation. To your great astonishment, they had all said the same. A pregnancy such as this was not impossible, but exceedingly rare. Only the most powerful magic of the realms could have led to it. Love.
Hilda drank her tea calmly, seeming not at all surprised at everything that you’d just said. Setting down her cup, she looked up at you, “Y/n, darling, I could have told you that.”
You sighed, “Yes, but I needed to be sure. To find out for myself. At least before coming here and confronting Zelda.”
Hilda leaned across the table and took your hand, giving at a reassuring squeeze, “Zelda will come around, she’s a midwife, she knows it’s possible. You know how she is, she just needs some time.”
“You’re right, Hilda. She will get the time she needs.” You rose from your chair, thanking her for the tea, and walked towards the door.
“After all,” Hilda said, “She loves babies. And she loves you.”
You stared at her in disbelief for a moment, but didn’t comment, leaving the academy in search for some cold Greendale air.
-
Staying at the Inn was tedious, days passed and there was little you could do. Insecurities invaded your mind, would you even want to raise the child by yourself? The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind before; so consumed by the notion of being with Zelda, that you hadn’t permitted yourself to consider what this all meant for you. Would you be a good mother? Could you do it alone? You knew you didn’t want to, yet this child was Zelda’s, yours, a manifestation of the powerful love you held for her, that you held for each other. But waiting here for Zelda, not knowing whether she would show up; it was agony.
Being physically unwell didn’t help either, draining you of strength, of hope.
Rising from bed, you swayed, blood rushing in your ears. You took a deep steadying breath, deciding to do something. You were tired of waiting, afraid to admit that Zelda wasn’t coming. Packing your bag with a simple charm, you summoned all your belongings into your bag. Your movements were hurried, afraid if you slowed down, you’d change your mind. It had been a week, and while you’d told yourself that you’d be patient, it was harder that you’d thought.
There was an abrupt knock on the door, and before you could answer it swung open, Zelda gazing determinately at you. Swallowing a sigh of relief, you dropped the blouse you held in your hand, and it fluttered silently to the floor.
“You are not staying here a minute longer.” Zelda said, her voice stern as her eyes swept the room with a disapproving look. She picked your blouse off the floor, along with your bag and turned to leave.
Without a word you followed her into the Spellman Mortuary hurst, closing the door with a loud thud.
The ride was silent, neither you nor Zelda uttered a sound. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car rolled out onto the main road. Immediately, you felt a violent wave of nausea hit you, not now, you thought, not now! There was nothing for it, “Zelda, you have to pull over.” You said, with all the calm you could muster.
“What?” she asked, but looking over at your ashen face, she hurriedly halted the car.
No sooner had the car stopped, you flung the car door open and vomited onto the road. You heard Zelda unbuckle her seatbelt, her hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles.
Groaning, you sat up.
Her face was etched with concern as she considered you, “Are you alright?” she asked, passing you a tissue.
You could’ve cried at the look of worry on her face. A strange feeling of relief passed your mind, she did care. You wiped your mouth, nodding, but felt disgusting, the taste of vomit lingering in your mouth.
Zelda gave your thigh gentle squeeze before turning back to the road and driving the short distance to her home.
Walking up the stairs to the Mortuary, you felt as though the steps below you moved. Reaching out a hand towards the railing to steady yourself, you felt a warm hand clasp firmly in yours, supporting you up the stairs. You felt horrendous, perhaps it was the culmination of worry over the past months, along with the relief of being around Zelda again. The thought that occurred over and over was, she does care. Yet, you were afraid of hoping for anything else; whether she believed you, whether she loved you.
The recognisable red door of the Mortuary opened, and two curious faces met you: Sabrina and Ambrose. They both grinned at you, flooding the silence with “How are you” and “so good to see you”. Zelda put up a hand to quiet them, and their eyes flitted between you, and letting you pass. You felt a rush of gratitude towards Zelda, you really had no energy to speak to them. With your hand safely in Zelda’s, she led you to the sitting room. She guided you into the sofa, her hand separated from yours, only to briefly caress your cheek, “’I’ll be right back.” She whispered.
You could hear the clicking of her heels as she walked towards the kitchen as she spoke to her niece and nephew, “We are not to be disturbed. When Hilda returned, tell her.” Zelda spoke in a low and rather stern voice.
You heard faint answers of “ok” and “will do” from Sabrina and Ambrose. Letting out a sigh, you settled back into the sofa, finally relaxed. The darkness outside was growing with every minute, the last rays of light slinking away as evening set in. You absentmindedly rubbed the side of your stomach, settling the knots of worry there. At that moment Zelda entered the room once more, carrying a trey of tea. She paused briefly as her eyes fell onto your belly, and you halted your movements.
Setting the trey down onto the table, she sat down next to you. Pouring a cup of tea, she handed it to you, and you accepted it gratefully.
You both gazed at one another then, unsure of where to begin. Opening your mouth to speak, you closed it again.
“When?” Zelda asked. At the look of question in your eyes, she continued, “When did you find out.”
You took a sip of your tea before placing the cup back onto the saucer, “A few weeks after you left.”
There was a look in her eye then, you couldn’t quite tell if she was disappointed or tired, or both, “Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice was still low, but as commanding as you’d ever heard it.
“I had to be sure.” You answered.
Zelda’s response was the same as Hilda’s had been a week ago, “But I’m a midwife! I could’ve told you.” She said in an exasperated voice.
“I just…” you started.
Zelda broke you off, “There was someone else then?” she said, anger flaring in her beautiful eyes.
“No, Zelda, there was only you.” You looked down at your hands before gazing up at her again, “I didn’t know it was possible for us.” You faintly gestured between you.
“So you risked the safety of our child, traveling across country lines to find out?”
Your lip trembled, but you managed to keep your tears at bay, “You believe me?” you whispered.
The anger in her eyes faded immediately, “Of course I do.” Conviction in her voice now. She reached out and placed a hand on your arm, rubbing her thumb soothingly over your clothed skin, “When I saw you, I..” she hesitated, tears welling in her eyes, “I realised how much I’d missed you. And when you told me of your pregnancy it felt like a betrayal.” She blinked, and at noticing a tear rolling down your cheek, she reached up and wiped it away with her thumb. “A child of my own is something I have always wanted.” She paused gazing intently at you, “A child with you is beyond what I could’ve hoped for.” She cupped your cheek and leant in to kiss you. It was a kiss that told you everything you needed it to; how she felt towards you, and the babe. Her soft lips tasted like Zelda, cigarettes and tea, intoxicating and sweet. You melted into her, relief flooding your limbs.
As you separated, she cupped your cheek once more, “You’re tired, you need to get some rest.” She stated.
Nodding, you rose from the comfort of the sofa, “I take it the guestroom is free?” you said, grinning.
Not having looked at you, she failed to sense your sarcasm, “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re staying with me.”
As she looked up, she saw the look on your face, “That wasn’t funny, y/n.” You saw the twinkle of mirth in her eye, and you let out a soft laugh.
Sometime later, you lay in bed, Zelda’s bed. Dressed in your satin night dress, you sat upright; watching and Zelda moved towards you. She lay down next to you on her side, appraising you.
“There was one useful thing I learned on my travels”, you started.
“Oh?”
With a little effort, you hoisted up your nightdress to reveal your stomach.
Zelda’s eyes watched the expanse of exposed skin, marvelling it, as though it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She reached out a hand, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing your soft skin.
You smiled at her, before muttering, “montrant matrem.” At once, a sliver of gold rose from the swell of your stomach halting momentarily in the air above you. Zelda stared with wide eyes as the golden thread split in two, one traveling to your chest, the other to her own.
Once your gaze met once more, both your eyes were welled with tears. A deep understanding formed between you, and at a loss for words, Zelda’s hand came to rest at the small swell as she leaned in to kiss you again. You parted, brushing your nose against hers, before settling in her arms and falling into a deep and restful sleep. Everything would be alright.
Summary: You deliver a pizza to a mysterious woman in a quiet cottage. Things escalate from there.
Warnings: NSFW. Nothing too explicit, though, and all consensual. Female reader. Hidden threats/implications of murder. Naked Uno.
Word count: 1358
Notes: Sometimes I write things like this and wonder what I’m thinking. Honest to God, this was a concept I came up with in the very early hours of the morning, as most of my stories are, but then it got away from me. I can’t tell if this is wholesome or disturbing, maybe both. Enjoy, besties.
Unsure of whether there was a doorbell hidden by the bushes or not, you knocked on the door. The lights were on, so someone was home, and if not, you were fully prepared to eat those two pizzas yourself.
It had been a long shift, as weekend shifts often were. You were tired, running on only two energy bars for the last 5 hours, and were more than relieved that this was your final delivery for the night.
You saw a shadow move in front of the window and moved your hand back under the stack of pizza boxes again, ready to pass them over. The door in front of you creaked open, and you smiled, just as you had automatically been doing all night.
"Hi," you said, forcing brightness in your tone to conceal your tiredness. The more tips you could get from this, the better. "You ordered pizza?"
The woman in the doorway paused, brushing away her blowout curls from her eyes to enable her to see better. Her dark green robe was . . . definitely very low cut. You fought with yourself to keep your eyes on her face.
"I did," she answered hesitantly, and then looked you up and down. "You're not a man, are you?"
You shook your head, glancing down at your jeans and blue bomber jacket. "They didn't design this uniform with women in mind. I'm not even allowed to show any ankle as it's 'too distracting'. Anyway, here's your order –"
The woman interjected with a sigh before you could hand the boxes to her. "Would you mind setting it over there for me?"
She pointed behind her into the house. Slightly hesitant, you nodded and stepped past her, dusting away any dirt from the soles of your shoes on the doormat as you entered. You usually were in too much of a rush to actually deliver pizzas into a house, but it wasn't like you had any more deliveries to get done that night.
The house wasn't nearly as brightly lit as you'd expected it to be. There were one or two lamps on, sure, and the glowing fireplace crackled away in the living room, but it definitely felt just a little dark and ominous. You made a note to yourself to dawdle as little as possible while you were there.
You set the pizzas down on the small dining room table. They were still fairly warm, you observed when part of your glove slipped off and your hand made contact with the boxes.
"I'm sorry if this came later than expected. Traffic today has been pretty bad," you said. You stood up, adjusting your gloves ready to leave, and gasped suddenly, nearly tripping over in fright. "You have a raven?"
"Yes, he's a friend of mine," she replied, picking up the wine glass she'd set down on a side table. If not for her small smirk, you would’ve assumed she’d been oblivious to your shock. "Any plans for this evening?"
You shrugged, still giving the raven a nervous side-eye. "I don't know, watch a movie, perform Satanic blood rituals, play Uno with my roommate, the usual," you responded, pausing for a moment. "The second one was sarcasm."
"I assumed so," she agreed.
Picking up the open wine bottle, she filled an empty glass that had been left on the table and offered it to you. Usually you wouldn’t have accepted it, but one look at the label on the bottle suggested that this was definitely some high-end expensive stuff, and you really weren’t in a position to say no to that.
Besides, it wasn’t the first time you’d gotten yourself caught up in the antics of a random customer. One woman had spent the evening getting you to move her furniture around and given you a tip afterwards.
You very hesitantly took a sip. “Is there a reason why you’re offering me alcohol?” you asked, feeling like it was something that definitely needed to be questioned.
“I’m . . . deciding,” she murmured quietly.
As she approached the table, you looked at her apprehensively and placed the glass down. “On what?”
“How ravenous I’m feeling tonight,” she responded. As she placed her glass down on the table beside yours, she leaned forward, hands resting against the table edge, head slightly bowed. “Leave us, Stolas.”
At first, you’d assumed she was talking to you, asking you to go, but it was once she’d said “Stolas” that you froze in place. There was the sound of the soft flapping of wings, accompanied by the sensation of a gentle breeze flowing past your head. You glanced at the windowsill; the raven was gone.
You blinked and looked over at her. She glanced up at you, eyes narrowed at first, but slowly beginning to smile. Now you were beginning to build up an understanding of what was happening.
“Oh.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
You were on your back across the bed of a woman whose name you didn’t even know. Something Wardwell, maybe, but you hadn’t really paid much attention to the name of the customer beforehand.
Your jeans were somewhere nearby, not that you exactly knew where, but at least you knew that your jacket was still beneath you. You were barefoot at this point, and gloveless. How you’d let yourself get into that situation, you had no idea.
But it was too late now. You were too far gone, being fingered so perfectly that thinking logically and making an excuse to leave was out of the question. It was the end of a long week, you supposed. There was nothing wrong with some harmless fun with a woman who was probably 20 or so years older than you.
An unadulterated moan, followed by a heaved profanity or two, left your mouth as you came beneath her for the second time that night. She swallowed any further moans with a deep kiss that felt powerful enough to bruise your lips.
Harmless fun, you assured yourself.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
You were both pretty spent. It had been just under an hour of whatever that was, and the previously cool room was feeling considerably more humid. Both of you were breathing fairly heavily. In fact, you could feel the woman’s body heat beside you and you weren’t even making physical contact.
“I guess that was better than any other Saturday night plans I had,” you muttered as you sat up, pulling a throw blanket towards yourself to provide some partial coverage.
“Better than Uno?” the woman asked, clearly mocking your previous statement.
You nodded frankly. “Ever played Uno?”
“No,” she answered, and then sighed exasperatedly when you slid off the bed and towards your discarded jeans on the floor. “Let me guess: you brought a pack of Uno cards with you.”
You climbed back onto the bed, laying on your stomach with the blanket loosely draped over you. “Of course I did,” you replied as you began to deal out the already shuffled deck accordingly. “Consider this a payment for having sex with me.”
“Prostituting yourself for a card game?” she questioned as she reluctantly turned over. She mirrored your position on her stomach but with her knees bent and ankles crossed in the air. “That’s new.”
You pushed a few cards across the bed towards her. “So those are yours. You're better off not showing me. Uno’s a really easy game to play, you’ll pick it up quickly. The aim is to put down all of your cards, but obviously it’s not that easy. You usually end up picking up more cards in the process and screwing your opponent over.”
She picked up the box the cards had been packaged in, read over at the instructions at the back, and laughed shortly. “Easy. So what do I win?”
You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But if I win, I get one of the pizzas I delivered. I haven’t eaten in hours, actually.”
“Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll play for a bite to eat too,” she said quietly, almost as if there was a darker double meaning to her decision, but she didn’t give you a chance to question it. “You first, my dear.”
Well, we’re writing a fic about the second eldritch terror, the uninvited. And the reader is a hedge-witch who was wandering the forests alone. She’s a witch of herbs and healing but she also specializes in poisons, so hence she was always excluded from the coven.
So, the reader is at Hilda’s wedding and she proposes that instead of crashing other people’s parties, why not build his own home? The terror should build a place to belong or he can take shelter in her home.
And they relate to each other, because they were forever un-welcomed and now they have each other and it’s really fluffy.
Also, since she’s a witch of herbs and healing, she like yk cleans him up and heals his wounds. I mean, the man’s legs must be sore and blistered from wandering the cosmos for all of eternity.
Also, he’d totally rip the hearts out of anyone who hurt her.
Warnings: Mentions of the end of the world, mentions of homicide, implies forced marriage but it is her choice, scars and wounds
A hedge witch, that was what the coven called me, though I had been here even before their forefathers laid their roots in my soil. They always hated my kind, called us uneducated and unnatural.
So, now here I was, after centuries of wandering the wilderness alone, at the wedding of Hilda Spellman, surrounded by people who appreciated me and my talents.
To be quite fair, I was quite ready to eradicate the puny coven with the other hedge witches but as time progressed they grew on me, like vines they encased me with their warmth and I felt like I had a place to belong, a home.
~
The champagne was flowing and the band was moving the attendants of the party with their groovy beats. Hilda and her new groom looked happily in love, like the people around them ceased to exist in each other’s presence. I wish to have such a love, one day.
Then came the disastrous speech which quite frankly was hilarious. I mean I knew that the youngling shouldn’t have had so much gin but she was an adult, so what can we say?
I’m not going to lie, I quite enjoyed the music Sabrina’s friends were playing, particularly the song ‘Radio Gaga’ what an odd name but it was certainly groovy. But as the music slowly came to a close, the incubus in Theo kept body-hopping till it landed in the particularly fine gentleman in a dashing suit...who seemed to absorb the incubus.
And that’s where all hell broke loose.
~
Okay, why would they not keep Ambrose in-charge of letting the guests in, since he knew what the Uninvited looked like? Or they could have showed Sabrina and Nick a picture of the potential party-crasher, honestly these witches just make life a little harder sometimes.
Though, I’m a little sad that the little warlock got his heart pulled out, but who tries to try and boss around an Eldritch terror? Especially about clothes?
The Eldritch terror proceeded to propose a toast, to the end of days, promising to end each of us who attended the wedding, refusing Hilda’s invitation.
Just as the entity started approaching the crowd, Sabrina stepped forward but before she could get a word out I stepped in front of her, “What if you were always invited?”
The entity looked at me, curious at my question.
“What if you had a place to belong? A home. A place that you were always welcomed to. A place where you could finally rest? Would you spare these people in exchange?”
“I would, but I have no such resting place, hence since these people deprived me of my momentary reprieve, I shall deprive them of their hearts, for only those that are truly heart-less deserve to be so.”
He raised his arm to plunge into the nearest guest before I interrupted, “I could give you that. A home.”
“How?” His voice echoed through the silent hall.
“We could get married. That way, you’d always be welcome to my home. You’d always have a seat at my table, beside me and you’ll receive the warmth that was denied of you at the beginning.”
The Uninvited eagerly agreed, while the rest of the inhabitants of the hall were relieved to live another day yet appalled at my solution.
~
“Why would you do this? Sacrifice yourself to be chained to that-that monster?” Sabrina questioned, outraged.
“I feel- I sense his loneliness. I know how he feels, how it feels to not have anywhere to rest, anywhere to call home, so the least I could do is provide his weary soul with some comfort, dear friend.”
“Still! It’s not right that you have to sacrifice so much for a coven who spurned you, only inviting you in when they had no other option.”
“Sabrina, it was my choice. My decision and I would appreciate it if you did not meddle with this. I do not wish to trap him in a trinket like we did the darkness, so please do not do that. Plus, I’ll be okay. And maybe he’ll be able to help us against the other terrors.” Sabrina’s protests died down but I knew that she would not let this go silently.
The rest of the coven had mixed reactions. Zelda shared Sabrina’s sentiments, Hilda felt guilty as if the whole ordeal was her fault and Ambrose...well he was less than pleased.
~
We had the wedding at the academy, in Zelda’s office with Zelda officiating, much to her displeasure. I wore a beautiful white dress decorated with real flowers, namely, white plumeria, aquelegia canadensis, baby blue eyes. hellebores and a plethora of other flowers.
A flower crown sprouted from my hair, a courtesy of my nature based powers, or ‘flower-powers’ as Sabrina would call them.
When I walked into the room, everyone was stunned into silence. If it was under better circumstances, some would have smiled too.
The person who was the most stunned was perhaps my own groom, with wide eyes filled with adoration and wonder he extended his hands towards me. I placed my hands gently in his, noting the wounds from his years of travel.
I smiled softly at him, before the ceremony began.
The wedding passed by in a blur and before I knew it I was being escorted out of the office on the arm of my new husband.
~
We entered the main hall of the coven and I raised my arms, causing vines to sprout from the crevices of the hall. Flowers of a wide variety blossomed in the room. Everyone was in awe of the display. Music played through the air as the newly wed couple danced and the coven watched.
Soon they retired to her cottage in the woods that she had built over the centuries.
It was had two floors and was quite large. It looked like it had emerged from a fairy tale.
“May I carry you over the threshold?” Her groom asked tentatively.
She agreed and he carried her to her room.
Her room was decorated with vines and plants on every surface. Her bed was carved of wood with intricate patterns throughout. She also had a huge vaulted window through which moon-light poured into the room. Near the window was a window-seat laid with pillows and cushions that looked incredibly cozy.
Her groom gently set her down on her feet and looked at her.
She simply smiled and told him, “First, before we go further I want to give you a bath then tend to your wounds. I know they must hurt. Will you let me?”
Taken aback by his bride’s request, he simply nodded his consent.
She grinned and went to prepare him a bath.
~
When his wife was out of the room he began contemplating her actions. Why would she be so kind to him? He was the one who had threatened to kill her and all those she held dear to her. Why would she want to dress his wounds? No one had ever dressed his wounds before. Why did she care? Was it all an act? Was this some sort of trap? No. It couldn’t be. She was too kind and he sensed no ulterior motives from her.
He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of his new bride calling him into the bathroom.
The bathroom was a large room with a white bath tub at the center of the room. At the far end of the room also stood a shower as well as a few shelves with all sorts of herbs, essential oils, bath salts and bubble-baths- everything that one would need to take a relaxing bath. There was also a screen in the corner behind which the new groom took off his garments.
The bathroom glowed in the yellow lights of the candles spread across the room.
The tub was filled with sweet-smelling water. He could not place the scent but it was quite relaxing. Flowers of all kinds floated on the water and beside the tub stood his new bride, she had changed her clothes to something more comfortable, smiling gently at him she motioned for him to enter the tub.
~
As his back rested against the warm porcelain of the tub his new wife got to work, gently removing the knots from his hair before washing it clean of what seemed like centuries of grime. She proceeded to gently wash his face, being mindful of the cuts.
As she was washing his hands, he asked her, “Why did you marry me?”
“Hmm?”
“Why would you marry someone like me?”
“Why, husband? Are you regretting your decision so soon?” she chuckled before continuing, “Did I tell you how I came to be with the coven?”
He leaned forward, eager to hear her.
“I was what covens call a hedge-witch. I had no coven and no place to call home. So, a few hundred years ago I decided to lay down roots, to create my own home after wandering for centuries. That’s when I came across Greendale. There was something drawing me here so I followed that pull and built this house. But it wasn’t until the coven was faced by pagans that the other hedge-witches and I were included in their coven, in their little family. The point is that I sensed a deep loneliness and longing within you, something I had felt myself for a long time and no one deserves to feel like that, which is why I married you.”
He was silent after my revelation and the rest of the bath passed by in relative silence.
After an hour of moisturizing, conditioning and massaging her new groom the bath water was drained and she wrapped him in a fluffy towel-robe. (She may have lived in the forest but she was not a heathen.) She told him that she was going down to the kitchen to prepare something for his injuries and that he was welcome to join her.
So there he was, sat at her kitchen table, watching her flutter around the kitchen grabbing bottles, plucking leaves from the potted plants, mixing, grinding and chopping while humming under her breath.
He simply watched her motions, intrigued by her mundane activities.
She turned to him, smiling and wrapped his wounds in gauze. Smothering his wounds in the green colored paste she warned him that the medicine would sting but he sat there, unflinching at her ministrations.
She paid special attention to the wounds on his feet which he no doubt incurred while on his long, tiring journey.
After bandaging him up she prepared a hearty stew with vegetables, meat and bread. They sat at her kitchen counter, side-by-side partaking in the delicious spread. He polished off his bowl in record time and was offered a second helping, which he graciously accepted.
~
After centuries of wandering the cosmos he felt...not angry. Well, not as angry as he used to feel. He felt warm in his chest. Was this what being cared for felt like?
After she they were sated she smiled tiredly at him before escorting him to her bedroom. She’d made it clear that she was tired from the events of the day and thus did not feel up to consummating their marriage.
He protested, at the beginning but eventually gave in, agreeing that his wounds should heal before he spent intimate time with his new wife.
They laid on her bed, side-by-side with their hands intertwined and talked to each other. Both wanting to know more about their new spouse.
He told her about his journey through the cosmos and how everything came to be and she told him about her life on Earth, her love for plants and the friends she had made through her life.
“Why did you not cut my hair?”
“Hmm?”
“A man called Blackwood cut my hair before sending me to your friend’s wedding. Why didn’t you?”
“You’re going to find this silly, but I find men with long hair particularly enticing.”
“Is that so?”
“It is, dear groom.”
“Well, I find women who bloom flowers particularly enticing as well.”
Hearing this, she grew a red chrysanthemum and gave it to him before she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
The uninvited twirled the flower between his fingers before gripping the stem tightly, hoping to preserve it, and went to sleep.
For once his sleep was comfortable and warm. His heart was full and so was his stomach, all thanks to the little witch that laid by his side, who looked past his exterior and saw the lonely tortured soul hidden deep within.
➤ warnings: smut(oral, fingering), cursing, satanism, the usual
➤ notes: I got a request for a prudence fic, the gender of the reader wasn't specified so i went with a fem reader, anyway... enjoy!
➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog
"Prudence, wait. I'm sorry, ok? I mean, what do you want me to say?" She tried, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.
Prudence's eyes burned with fury.
"Say nothing. Absolutely nothing." She seethed through her teeth.
Sighing, she dug her fingers into her eyes till her vision became static. It was the 5th day in a row that Prudence snapped at her, starting a fight that was honestly baseless.
"Look, I'm gonna walk away. We can talk when you've cooled off." Standing up, she made a move for the door.
It slammed shut and bolted just as her hand reached out for it. The bitter tang of Prudence's rage embroiled in her magic wafting in the air.
"Prudence."
"What?" She spat.
"Satan! What is your problem? You've been picking fights and being such a fucking bitch to me these past few days. I'm fucking sick of it P. You wanna talk it out or are you just gonna glare at me till you set me on fire?"
Prudence's eyes flickered, something shifting within them.
"I haven't been a bitch."
She scoffed, "Yeah, and I'm Catholic."
Prudence's eyes softened in remorse and she closed the distance between them, lips murmuring a quiet apology.
Arms crossed, she was closed off to the apology and refused to make eye contact with Prudence.
"Let me make it up to you?" Prudence purred
At that, her ears perked up and she quirked an eyebrow. Prudence took that as a sign to continue.
Peppering kisses along her jaw, Prudence trailed down towards her neck. Sucking a dark bruise onto her skin and continuing her journey downwards, Prudence gently pushed her towards the bed, laying her down.
Kissing all the way down to her waistband, Prudence toyed with the button a bit, not quite removing it.
"I'm sorry. Let me show you how sorry I am."
As her pants were tugged downwards, her breath hitched in her throat. She threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as Prudence licked into her, tasting her.
"Satan... You are delicious." Prudence smirked, fingers pumping languidly in and out.
Moaning, she writhed on the bed as Prudence sucked on her bundle of nerves, all the while curling her fingers inside of her.
As she felt the building wave of pleasure grow higher, she gripped the sheets, breathing out a warning to Prudence. Almost as if it spurred her on, Prudence picked up the pace and sucked even harder if possible.
Just as she felt like she could burst, Prudence slowed down and blew cold puffs of air onto her oversensitive pussy.
"So pretty and puffy, do you wanna cum?"
"Y-yes, please." She whimpered, attempting to grind harder onto Prudence's fingers.
"Then beg for it."
Her eyes shot open as she stared at Prudence, indifference on her face and a smirk on her lips. Huffing, she realised Prudence was serious.
"Please, please, please let me cum. Please Pru? I need it so bad, I was so close. Make me cum, yeah? Make my pussy gush right into your mouth."
Groaning, Pru dove right back in at a vigorous pace, building the waves right back up.
With a loud moan, she came into Prudence's mouth. Drinking it all up greedily, Prudence moaned, the vibration shooting straight into her core. Twitching in the aftershocks, she shoved Prudence away and whined in overstimulation.
Panting heavily in the aftermath, she turned to look at Prudence and grinned.
𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 — prudence and you await the coronation of the queen of feasts.
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 — DARK, nsfw +18 content. detailed descriptions of the following. cannibalism. satanism. dubious consent. dom/sub relationship. each chapter will have its adequate warnings, but they will be kept vague and broad for the sake of the story. in other words, i will not warn specifics. read at your own descretion.
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 — hello besties! this is my first prudence fic, and my first series too! so, i’m very excited about that. this is my interpretation of the witchy lore that was severely underdevloped from the show. very lucky that i was still in a spooky mood for thanksgiving because now i have an idea for the witchy one. anyway, click here for the masterlist!! i hope you guys enjoy and stick around for the full fic!! <33
The thought of Prudence as a meal left a very different image on your mind than what the future promised.
She lies on your bed, legs spread wide, sharp black nails scratching at the base of your neck, coaxing you towards her. Your face buries between her thighs, your lips humming and sucking in tandem to her moans and sighs. A salty syrup coats your tongue, convincing you that you had just tasted the nectar of the Gods.
The future gave you another image, as vivid as the previous, but truer.
You sit on the table surrounded by the Spellmans, the lovely witch family that took you in after the death of yours. You sit with a plate in front of you. It has a cup of rice, a few spoons of legumes, and a block of meat. You wearily touch the meat with your metal fork. It jiggles. This makes a thick, oily liquid spill from some crevices. An atrocious smell hits your nose, convincing you that you had just been served the water of the River Styx.
You have never been fond of the future, much less the truth it held. You’ve come to learn that its “truth” is more than anything but a whisper of a promise, so you never bothered to believe it.
It was hard to not believe it when everything and everyone around you was determined to it. Loyal of it. And you had been charged with the most loyal of positions.
You had stood amongst the other young women, all of you clad in beautiful gowns, elegant and graceful. Although, you had purposefully stood away from Prudence. You refused to look at her eagerness, to feel it pulse from her, around her, engulf you, threatening to infect you with an eagerness of your own. Who in their right mind would be eager to become the main course of the Feast of Feasts? To be crowned the Queen of the Feast?
Prudence, of course.
She will always be eager for whatever bore the title of Queen.
“And, what’s so horrible about that?” This was said with malice, but you saw through it. You saw the hurt that laced Prudence’s tone. You felt it. It’s the same hurt that brought forth your petty remark.
And it’s a week before the coronation. You had not even caught a whiff of her eagerness before you already snapped.
“It’s only horrible when the cost is your life, Prudence.” You coated your tone with the malice of hers. You were never one to back down from a fight. “What use is your rule if you’re dead for it? Did you think about that, Pru? The dead do not rule.”
There was a beat of silence.
“They never have. They never will.”
“That is a lie,” Prudence seethed, “you are well aware that the Dark Lord crowns the witch with hellish rule of the living by her death.”
She would have shouted the next words, should have, but she’s not like that. No, she collected herself. She drew her eyes into slits. She dipped her tongue in the venom that flooded her veins. She stepped forth, leaning towards you, making sure that her words will not be lost in the lowness of her voice. She bared her fangs.
“You are only saying such a thing because you know that my death will rule you most of all.”
It sunk in, slowly. You let the venom flood your own bloodstream, cooling your adrenaline, and, for a brief moment, you wondered if that is the only time you’ll ever feel as part of her, as hers, when her venom mixed with yours.
“Fuck you, Prudence.” This was said with a trembling voice. From the cold? From fear? Most likely a combination, but you didn’t care. You pushed passed her, not letting her catch sight of the tears welling in your eyes.
She scoffed.
You turned with a glare that cut through her. Your tears may have dwindled her into nothing but a smudge, but you knew better. Your glare cut her.
She said nothing while you stormed away.
And she said nothing when you joined her with the rest of the young witches for the ceremony. The silence between you had stretched throughout the whole week, thickening, expanding to the point that one breath would have popped the balloon, or triggered the fuse.
You figured that there would be an explosion, should be, but you forgot how the future holds nothing but a promise.
The young witches held out their candles. The voice of Father Blackwood richocheted across the wood of the walls and the pews. His words blended with the hums and harmonies of the occult choir, ominous, foreboding. The coven joined in the chant of the spell. The future, now present, gave you image after image of the Dark Lord approaching, distorted, warped, the half-man-half-goat creature eyeing his disciples, eyeing his prey, a red flame on one claw, a white one on the other, one flickering with the promise of death, the other of loss.
He lit one candle red.
Prudence’s.
He lit one candle white.
Yours.
And when she broke the silence, hours later at the Spellman’s doorstep, she left you speechless.
“My lovely Handmaiden,” she said, her plum lips curled in a smirk, “your servitude begins.”
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 — aaand that’s the prologue!! be sure to leave a like or a reblog, i’d greately appreciate it. here’s my inbox if you have any questions or want to talk abt this fic or prudence or caos or anything in general, really!! if you want to be tagged in the next parts, comment down below!!
