pete the demon

rainstorms-by-june  asked:

can we just blame all this cryptic bullshit on pete and call it a day? im excited for the 28th but i highkey dont trust that manchild

petes a demon but more like a demon that just hides your car keys to make you 3 hours late for work but only for you to find out today wasnt your shift anyway and that you get a promotion the following week

Trapped by the Eyes of a Demon (Patrick Stump)

Based Off of the Request: Could you do a feelsy Patrick imagine based in the young blood chronicles where the reader is already dating Patrick and she gets kidnapped as well and he ends up hurting her/almost killing her when he’s a demon?

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to work today” I say worriedly, scrunching my eyebrows in concern as I read over the newspaper. “Anti-Music Cult Threat Heightened - Musicians Gone Missing” screams out from the front page, along with pictures of a couple musicians who have gone missing recently, including Big Sean.

“I can’t just not go,” Patrick says from across my kitchen, “we’re right in the middle of an album”

“Patrick” I say in exasperation, waving the newspaper at him. He rolls his eyes with a smile.

“There’s nothing to worry about, babe I promise, we’re just going in the studio, we’re not going to get kidnapped by some crazy cult”

I just give him a pointed look. Sighing, he walks over and presses a kiss to my forehead “We’ll be okay I promise, but I gotta go”

I follow him to the door, kissing him goodbye. Halfway out the door, he stops, looking down at his shirt. “Do you think the guys will notice I’m wearing the same thing as yesterday?” he asks me.

“Probably not,” I say with a laugh, “but maybe bring a change of clothes next time you stay over?”

Patrick nods in agreement, presses a quick kiss to my lips, and heads out to his car. I watch as he gets in, and drives away , hoping that what he promised is true.

——

I hardly hear from Patrick all day, only a quick text at night, saying he got home but he’s exhausted so he’s gonna crash, and he’ll see me later. My worry finally fades with that text, and I fall asleep, no longer fearing for him or the guys.

————-

I’m making coffee in the kitchen the next morning when my cell phone rings, and I look over to see it’s Pete. Pausing only to wonder why Pete is up so early, I answer. “Hey , Pete, what’s up?”

“(Y/N), thank god, is Patrick with you?” He asks frantically.

“No why?” I ask concerned.

“Shit!” Pete yells through the phone.

“Pete! What is going on? Isn’t he at home?” I ask, terrified for the answer.

“No he’s not. (Y/N), I think he was kidnapped, by the cult”

“No, no” I say slowly, “ He can’t have been, he made it home last night”

“No, no he didn't” Pete says angrily, “and I have proof”

“What is it?” I ask shocked.

“They… they, um” he hesitates.

“What Pete?” I yell, needing to know,

“They left a bag on my front door, and it, um, had his right hand in it” He says in a scared voice.

The image of Patrick’s hand and my own terror nearly cause me to throw up, but I force myself to stay calm. “Okay, well that means he’s still alive right?” I say, voice cracking, “So what do we do?”

“We have a plan to get him back. Meet Joe at the gas station on 7th in fifteen minutes okay?”

“Okay I’ll be there” I say determinedly.

“Okay, good, “I’ll see you soon. And (Y/N)?”

“Yea?”

‘Be safe”

”You too Pete” I say, still trying to hide the fear in my voice, before I hang up.

I give myself thirty seconds to freak out before I move into action, throwing on some jeans and sneakers, and putting my hair up into a ponytail.

I run out of the house and hop into my car, ignoring all speed limit signs as I race to meet Joe in time. Luckily, I make it there, and as I pull into a spot, I see Joe. I get out and start to walk towards him, but something’s wrong. I see a woman in a mask, sneaking up behind him. I go to yell out to warn him, but once I open my mouth, someone slips a cloth over my mouth and blackness starts to overtake my vision.

————-

When I wake up, I’m extremely disoriented, and tied down to a chair. I’m not sure where I am exactly, the room I’m in is almost completely dark, and I’m completely alone. I struggle against the ropes tying me, but they don’t budge. I decide to start by getting the gag out of my mouth, so I start using my tongue and my lips to try and force it out. What feels like hours later, I finally get it out, and I start to scream, desperately hoping someone can hear me. To my surprise, someone does. The door flies open and Pete stumbles in, slamming the door behind him.

“Pete!” I say in relief, but that dies in my throat when he moves closer. He looks terrible, eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, covered in blood, and badly injured by the looks of it.

“(Y/N), thank god you’re okay! I should never have gotten you involved” he says, rushing forward and working on the ropes.

“What’s going on Pete? Are you okay?” I ask as he pulls at the ropes.

“We’ve all been captured by that fucking cult,” Pete says angrily,”we’re in some kind of hideout of theirs or something, I’m pretty sure the others are here, we just need to find them”

“He finally pulls the ropes all the way off and I hug him tightly. “Okay, let’s go get them back” I say with determination, pulling away. He stares back with a hard look in his eyes and nods his head. We cautiously leave the room I was in, peering down the long dark hallway. We check every room we pass but most are locked, or empty. Finally, after narrowly avoiding one of the psychotic girls roaming the hallways, we hear music coming from behind a set of glass doors, and when we push them open, Patrick is strapped to a chair, surrounded by weird machines and radios. We rush up to him, trying to free him.

“Patrick, you’re okay!” I say rushing towards him. But when he whips his head around to look at me, it isn’t his normal beautiful eyes that stare back, but a harsh, evil yellow. I blanch looking at him.

“Patrick?” I ask quietly.

He does nothing but struggles against his straps.

“Pete. Something’s wrong with him” I say panicked.

“I know, but we need to get him out of here” He says, moving forward and shoving a hook onto Patrick’s hand - or where his hand used to be.

Patrick lets out a horrendous yell, but before I can react, I feel sharp prick on my neck, and the darkness takes over again.

—-

This time when I wake up, I’m slumped in the corner of a room, hunched over on the cold tile. I struggle to rise up, the protest of my muscles and joints telling me I’ve been in this awkward position for a long time, probably hours. Painfully, I rise up from the floor, hand feeling at the pain throbbing in my forehead, only to discover a gash across it. Wincing in pain, I look around the room I’m in. Weirdly enough, it looks like a hospital exam room. I walk gingerly over to the cabinets on one wall, and rummage through them until I find a bandage to wrap my head. Finally, I walk over to my door, and peek out in the hallway. I slip into the hallway as quietly as possible, clutching the wall as I walk along, my head wound making everything hazy. I figure out that I’m definitely in a hospital- but it appears to be run down or abandoned for some reason. I see Andy and Pete run into a room, and I hurriedly go to follow them. I make it to the door, and through the window I see something that doesn’t immediately register. Pete and Andy stand closest to the door, staring at Patrick. Patrick’s face is the only one I can see, and it’s filled with horror as he looks down at someone lying on a chair next to him. But as I look over, it’s not a person, it’s a body, and it’s Joe. Terror coils in my gut as the scene hits me. In the corner of my eyes red and blue lights flash, but all I can do is stand and stare through the window, and I let out a single, choking sob, eyes filling with tears. Patrick hears and glances up, face crumpling even more when he sees me. Not two seconds pass before I feel hands grab my arms and pull me away.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not getting away that easily” a voice snarls in my ear, and for the third time in two days, I fall into darkness.

—–

This time, I don’t wake up hazy, or confused, or alone. Instead, I wake up screaming. The jagged edge of the knife drags along the skin on my chest, and I immediately try to pull away from the source of the pain, only to find that i’m once again tied to a chair.

“There she is” a woman sneers in front of me, “Sorry love, but I was beginning to think you would never wake up, also I was bored”

She pulls the knife away with a bored look in her face, and tosses it to the side. I remain silent, looking around, trying to figure out where I am. It looks like an ordinary office, except for the anti music symbols littering the walls. I flinch when I spot what looks like a hand floating in water on the desk. But it isn’t until I see the tattoo that I realize who’s hand it is. I blanch and look away, avoiding that and the insane woman in front of me.

“What do you want with me” I ask angrily, “I’ve done nothing to you”

“You’re right, darling,” the woman says, running a finger along my cheek, to my disgust, “you’re just here to see the show”

“What show?” I demand.

“Oh just wait, I think you’ll love it” she says with a smirk. Her smirk grows wider as we hear the sounds of crashing and shattering glass coming from outside this room almost as if something’s being destroyed. She grins wickedly, throws a wink at me, grabs a megaphone and stalks out of the room. I hear loud yelling and chanting coming from outside, but I still breath a sigh of relief because she’s gone. I glance down at my chest, the angry cut has finally stopped bleeding, but the cuts stings and burns if I move at all. The blood has run down and stained the front of my shirt and dripped onto my jeans, which are ripped and dirty anyway. Bruises color my arms and hands where I’ve been manhandled and dragged along in the last two day. But the worst of it all, is that there is absolutely no way to get out of these ropes by myself.

The crazed leader returns all too soon, and throws herself in her office chair triumphantly. Mere seconds later, a man is thrown into the room, and I let out a strangled gasp. Standing in front of the desk, beaten, bloodied, but alive, is Patrick. He turns towards me, and once again those poisonous yellow eyes look back angrily. Recognizing me, he simply cocks his head to the side, turning back towards the psychopath, who’s watching with fascination. For the next half hour, I watch in confusion and fear as she hands Patrick instruments, records, and other music related items. Every time I expect him to revolt, but every time he destroys it. Finally, apparently satisfied, the blonde woman hold her hand up to stop him.

“Only one more thing to destroy, my lovely little Patrick” she says with an evil smile, pointing towards me, “ and it’s your pretty little girlfriend”

I gasp as Patrick whips around to face me, yellow eyes fixing onto my face. An angel, hidden behind the eyes of a demon. Slowly, he stalks towards me, grabbing the knife off of the desk.

“Patrick, please, no” I beg, pulling against my ropes, “it’s me, (Y/N), please you don’t want to do this”

My begging has no affect on him, and he reaches towards me, harshly grabbing my left arm. Without any emotion whatsoever, he picks a spot right below the inside of my elbow, and begins cutting. Despite my initial hope to stay strong and silent, I can’t help but scream as the knife is dragged through my skin again and again . Right before I pass out from the pain, it stops. Patrick stands up, grinning sickeningly down at me, gloating. I brave a look down at my arm. Roughly carved into my skin is the very same anti music symbol that covers the walls. At the sight I begin crying tears, not only of pain, but of sorrow.

“Nice touch” the woman cackles, “but it’s time to finish her”

Patrick takes two last steps towards me, raising the knife.

“Wait!” I scream, successfully making him hesitate.

“Patrick this isn’t you! They’re trying to change you, to ruin you, but you can’t let them! Music is your entire life, it saved you and gave you purpose. You love it, and you love Andy, and Joe, and Pete, they’re your family now! And you love me!”  I plead with him, tears drowning my vision.” Please don’t do this”

I think I see his eyes flicker back to their original color, but I can’t tell if it was real, or if I just wanted to see it too badly.

Patrick stabs the knife into my thigh.

I let out a horrible scream, doubling over in pain, and Patrick shoves be back ripping out the knife, and holding it up again.

“Whatever happens Trick, this isn’t your fault, I don’t blame you, and I will always love you more than anything” I force out through the pain. He hesitates again.

“I love you Patrick, just don’t let them win” I plead, blackness flicking at the edge of my vision.

Patrick eyes flicker, and slowly the yellow fades.

“(Y/N)?” Patrick asks in horror, as the knife clatters to the ground.

“Don’t let them win” I whisper, before willingly letting the darkness take me.

—————————

I wake up slowly, and as I crack my eyes open, the light floods in, not darkness. I pry my eyes open to the hospital room around me, and immediately see Patrick sitting in a chair, staring out the window of the room.

“Patrick?” I ask hesitantly, voice cracking from my dry throat.

He turns around immediately, standing and rushing to the bed. He drops to his knees next to my bed, gingerly grabbing my hand, visibly blanching at the bandage wrapped around my arm. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. The-the doctors, they didn’t know if you were ever gonna wake up, you lost so much blood and you had head trauma, and all of it, all of it was my fault” He sobs, head down on my bed.

My heart breaks for him, and I squeeze his hand. “Patrick look at me” I say softly, and he slowly raises his eyes to mine. I gasp and place my hand on his cheek. “Your eyes, they’re blue again” I say in utter relief, tears filling my eyes

Patrick nods silently. “It’s all over, (y/n), I promise. We didn’t let them win”

I smile at his words. “Good, because I meant what I said before, none of that was your fault, I don’t blame you for anything, because no matter what, I love you trick”

Tears brim in his eyes as he nods, visible relieved at my words. “I love you too (Y/N), more than anything”

We broken and we are bruised, but we’re safe and we’re together, and that’s all that matters.

10

I HAVE 900 FOLLOWERS DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!?!?

PICTURE TIME.

Not all of them are mine, i found some on various sites. If they are yours, please tell me and I will post your blog name here :D 

My brother knows Brendon Urie as ‘‘The Demon’‘.

The other day I was in my room listening to p!atd,my brother walked in and he asked ‘‘Are you listening to the demon?’‘ .

My grandma was in my home,she started to panic! (not at the disco) and she prayed and idk i was just so confused

rules: Tag 10 of your followers! Repost, don’t reblog.
tagged by: the sweet @thebelievingauthor
tagging: @dontxxgetxcockyxxx @piousboy @arrogancekiing @macusa-directorofmagicalsecurity @rvliance @thecursedspinner @tinypaintedthings @timxtopaythxpipxr @thecursedson anyone who wants to!

Muse:

Name: Peter Pan/ Malcolm Aeternus(Stiltskin to some)
Nickname: Pan, Pete, Puer Aeternus, Mal, Boy, Demon, Brat, Little Flying Eagle
Zodiac Sign: Aries
Gender: Male
Favorite Color: Green, Black, Grey, Brown, Blue (he has little preference)
Average Hours of Sleep:  rarely sleeps. ranges from 20 minutes to a couple hours.
Last Thing You Googled: How to use a smart-phone…
Height: 5′8

Mun:

Name: Malcolm
Nickname: Mar, Mar Mar, Mal, Pan(yes Pan.. I am such a fanboy)
Zodiac Sign: Pisces
Gender: Male 
Favorite Color: green, blue, black. 
Average Hours of Sleep:7-12 hours. I am basically a cat…
Last Thing You Googled: Peter Pan facts
Height:  5′3′’