hoe-for-skulduggery

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Art the clown/reader Let me in

⚠️Warning: this fiction contains strong depictions of self harm, blood, drug abuse and graphic details of death. Slight NSFW but not anything major. 18+ Proof read maybe once ⚠️

Word count: 2512

Summary: one bad trip. A fic in which Art shows up during your high and you debate whether he’s real or not.

Just another bad trip, that’s all this was as mismatching colours swirled around your room from blue to green to yellow in a rhythmic dance, pulsating like a kaleidoscope.

So, when the air shifted and your bedroom door swung open, you barely noticed or you were too euphoric perhaps to care. Through the haze of your vision, however, a face emerged, a bloodied clown with black and white face paint and a black dot at the tip of his nose. He smiled, his teeth dirtied and yellow and you smiled back in fascination. “This is new.” You slurred. “I never see faces.”

The clown cocked his head slightly to the side and his smile faded somewhat before his brows raised into a surprised glare, his eyes setting on the new cuts on your arms and then to the blade next to you. He pointed at the blade, then to you, as if to ask if you’d done it to yourself, he never said a word as he sat face to face with you.

“Yes.” You laughed to which he clapped, proud of the harm you’d inflicted. There was something unsettling yet oddly captivating about the clown you believed your brain had conjured, the colours pirouetting around him like they were drawn to him, you studied his every move as he studied yours. He picked up the pill bottle next to you, examined the contents and shook his head as if disappointed.

The clown reached his bloody gloved hand toward the blade that was slick with your blood, picking it up to observe it. With a quick exaggerated motion, his fingers danced over the metal before popping it into his mouth and sucking every last drop of the liquid. A small part of you recoiled in horror, while the rest of you felt a thrill at the sight, excited at the way his eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the taste of you. A small shaky breath left your cracked lips as a heat rose within. He pulled the sharp metal out from between his lips and smirked at you, eager fingers shoving the blade back into your hand, willing you to go again. Complying, you placed the blade to your arm, watching how his nose flared and his lips parted while you cut into your flesh, he practically drooled at the sight of fresh blood mingling with dried blood. You groaned, happy to be pleasing him as you slashed three more times. You held your arm out to him, delighted with your work. The clown silently laughed and gripped your arm tight, pulling it to his black lips, his tongue swirling around the fresh wounds, lapping up every trickle. A small moan left you, earning a startled glance from the clown, his lips shaped in an ‘o’ which quickly turned into an animalistic smile as he pulled away, satisfied, the colours around him fluctuating. You were far too lucid to pay mind to the impossibility of the dream soaked reality you had fabricated to truly appreciate your situation, and the fact that, this clown, however improbable he may seem, clearly cannot be a hallucination.

“Can you see them?” You suddenly ask, mesmerised at the way the clown amplified your surroundings.

The clown tilted his head, unsure as to what you meant.

“The colours, the faces.” You continue.

Art glanced around your room for a second and then shook his head.

“That’s a shame. They’re so pretty.” You giggled. “You’re pretty.” You blush at your sudden admittance as the clown batts his eyelashes and smirks at you, a hand waving you off.

His eyes burnt into yours and his pupils seemed to swirl in your intoxicated state.

He was beautiful, this man was beautiful, even as the colours around you faded to grey to black to white, your trip coming to an end. “I wonder if I’ll see you again next time.” You ponder, leaning closer to his face, soaking in every detail before he inevitably disappeared…but he never did and the usual pain that formed in the centre of your head began to build letting you know that your high was over. That was when a slight panic set in and your breathing became harsh.

“How are you still here?”

The clown silently laughed, pointing his finger at you in mockery.

“Who are you?”

The clown showed his teeth in a snarl as you leaned in even closer, a tentative finger reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. You half expected your hand to go through him like a hologram but as it connected with the padded feeling of a body, you laughed, unsure of what to do next as his hand reached up to your head and patted it.

“What do you want?” You blinked rapidly, the clown simply wagged his index finger side to side as he stood. Shaking legs from your high failed to get you to stand and your body all but began to crash to the floor before the monochrome man grabbed you and steadied you, throwing you down onto your bed. You went to stand again but the clown held a hand out to tell you to stay put.

He crouched down and grabbed your pills, shaking the contents dramatically with a plotting smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “They’re mine.”

The clowns focus unwavering as he disappears out of your room and out of your eye sight. Standing, your clumsy feet tripped over themselves, following him towards the bathroom where he stood over the toilet. Your heart sank as he unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle upside down, the pills spilling out like small white stones, clattering against the porcelain bowl.

“No!” You scream, rushing forward and into his body. “Stop!” But it was too late, he tossed the empty bottle to the floor and, in a swift motion, pushed the lever down. The sound of rushing water echoed in the small bathroom, your lifeline swirling away.

“Why did you do that? I need them…You-you don’t understand.” Tears well in your eyes as your voice croaked, turning to face the clown who was wiping his hands together as if to say he was finished with his work.

Panic became fear and fear became anger, a storm brewing inside as you lifted your hands and began hitting the clown on the chest, each strike fuelled by the frustration of loosing the one thing you need to survive. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

The clown stood there, his face monotone as he allowed you to project your emotions to him, not flinching once as you continued to whack your palms onto him. You wished he’d fight back, offer some sort of punishment, instead, he held your gaze, curious to see what you would do next, but nothing could have prepared him for the swell of pure sorrow that crashed down on you like a tidal wave as you delivered your last blow to him. Like a flood gate had opened, tears spilled down your face, your makeup melting away as water lines stained your cheeks and a harrowing sound that was alien to you came from deep within your throat. The clown watched as you fell to your knees and gripped onto his satin suit, deflated and utterly broken.

He titled his head and a silent sigh fell from him whilst he crouched down next to you, gripping your face harsh to look at him in the eyes. He offered a small smile, kinder somehow than the ones he’d given you previously, and his dark eyes glistened with an understanding that transcended words, a mute acknowledgment of the pain you were enduring.

Suffice to say, you were still none the wiser as to who this man was, but one thing was clear to you, he didn’t want you taking those drugs any more. “Why?” Your voice trembled as you searched his gaze, desperate for an answer. “You don’t know me, why do you care?”

The grip on your face loosened and his thumb traced the contours of your cheeks, following your tears and wiping them away.

“Who even are you?”

The clown pointed his finger in the air as if he had an idea then his legs took him to your mirror. He took a deep breath, puffing air against the glass, creating a thin layer of condensation that began to cloud on the reflective surface. Reaching his finger to the mirror, he began tracing letters, each stroke slow and careful. Once finished, he stepped back, arms presenting his work with an exaggerated flourish.

“Art?” You recite.

Art nods vigorously, a large smile stretching across his face as he clapped.

“I like it, it suits you.”

He then points at you, as if wanting you know your name.

“Me? I’m y/n.” You blush as he theatrically sits back next to you on the tiled floor and shakes your hand.

“But, Art, you still haven’t told me why you chucked my pills.”

Art rolls his eyes as if frustrated that you won’t let the subject go before pointing at the empty bottle on the floor and holding his hands in a cross shape and then sticking his tongue out and pointing his finger to his mouth. He shakes his hand like he disproves of you taking the pills.

“But what do I do without them now?”

The clown put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to him, your foreheads just touching, his other hand points at himself and then to you.

“What about us?” A million thoughts race through your head, confusion taking over.

He then points at himself again and then extends his palm and pushes it down in the air.

“You’ll stay?”

Art moves his head back and nods at this, seeming excited, hoping you’ll take up on his offer.

“This is crazy.” You laugh. “I mean, thank you but I don’t know you. You let yourself into my apartment for gods sake.”

Art is insistent, however, pointing at you and him again over and over and then placing his hands together as if pleading you. You knew this was mad, and if better judgement had been on your side you would have said no, but, still hazy from you high you said what you never thought you would have, “okay then.”

The clown jumps up to his feet and practically dances around the bathroom. You giggle at this, watching the man you’ve just met who just somehow became your new life line.

“Well, I’ll have to talk to Eliza about it. She’s my room mate. Did you see her on your way in?” You ask.

Art suddenly stops in his tracks and his demeanour shifts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He lifts his hands to the side near his head and offers a sheepish smile as if to say, ‘oops’.

“What did you do?”

The clown extends his arm out towards your still sitting form, head nodding to his hand for you to take it, which you gladly accept, electricity sparks within you from the contact causing you to blush. Slowly, he pulls you to your feet, making sure you were steady enough to walk, fingers gripping your hips as you swayed lightly. When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he gently covered your eyes with his hands and walked behind you, pushing you along, a playful gesture that sent a thrill down your spine. You hadn’t realised how tall he was until now, and your body practically pressed against his had you grinning, you could feel the way his heart was beating rapidly against his chest, mirroring your excitement.

Each step you took felt like a dance, swaying in time with Art with his sporadic energy, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary ahead. As you neared your destination, your footsteps stopped and Art paused for a moment, allowing the tension to swell like the crescendo of a symphony. He leaned closer, his lips practically brushing your ear. Your breathing became heavy and your legs wobbled from anticipation all while his hands cascaded down from your eyes and slid down your arms lightly, causing a slight hiss from you as he grazed your new cuts. The sudden feeling of loss of contact from him made you groan as he stepped away from you, your eyes still shut but soon flying open when he tapped your shoulder.

The sight that greeted you took your breath away - a scene that was both shocking and surreal was laid before your eyes and there, Art, the artist, proudly presented his work with a display of his hands and a smile, eyes wide. He stepped aside slightly, allowing you to get a full view of your slaughtered room mate, Eliza, a grotesque tableau of colour and chaos painted your living room. Her insides had been filleted and her once green eyes taken from her skull; intestines and liver spread out for all to see. The only recognisable feature describable was that of her blonde hair which helpless gripped to her torn scalp.

Art twirled on the spot, pointed at the scene and then to himself, sweeping his arms wide as if to proclaim, ‘isn’t it magnificent?’, inviting you to join his twisted revelry.

A laugh left you, a deep guttural laugh that shocked the clown as much as it did you. Why did you not scream? Or cry? Or run in terror? No tears, nothing. Just a laugh that seemed to continue for ages, even as the clown silently laughed and pointed at your dead room mate. The absurdity of the moment settled over you as you found yourself mixed in the magic of his madness. He watched you, clapping now as you clapped with him. Words never came to you, they don’t need to, a wordless array of astonishment was all you could offer as you waltzed over to him and let your lips touch his.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

more terrifier 3 bts!!!

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Stop it. He’s so hot 😍

more terrifier 3 bts!!!

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Art sends the cutest selfies 😍

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Art the clown/reader: Let me in

⚠️Warning: this fiction contains strong depictions of self harm, blood, drug abuse and graphic details of death. Slight NSFW but not anything major. 18+ Proof read maybe once ⚠️

Just another bad trip, that’s all this was as mismatching colours swirled around your room from blue to green to yellow in a rhythmic dance, pulsating like a kaleidoscope.

So, when the air shifted and your bedroom door swung open, you barely noticed or you were too euphoric perhaps to care. Through the haze of your vision, however, a face emerged, a bloodied clown with black and white face paint and a black dot at the tip of his nose. He smiled, his teeth dirtied and yellow and you smiled back in fascination. “This is new.” You slurred. “I never see faces.”

The clown cocked his head slightly to the side and his smile faded somewhat before his brows raised into a surprised glare, his eyes setting on the new cuts on your arms and then to the blade next to you. He pointed at the blade, then to you, as if to ask if you’d done it to yourself, he never said a word as he sat face to face with you.

“Yes.” You laughed to which he clapped, proud of the harm you’d inflicted. There was something unsettling yet oddly captivating about the clown you believed your brain had conjured, the colours pirouetting around him like they were drawn to him, you studied his every move as he studied yours. He picked up the pill bottle next to you, examined the contents and shook his head as if disappointed.

The clown reached his bloody gloved hand toward the blade that was slick with your blood, picking it up to observe it. With a quick exaggerated motion, his fingers danced over the metal before popping it into his mouth and sucking every last drop of the liquid. A small part of you recoiled in horror, while the rest of you felt a thrill at the sight, excited at the way his eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the taste of you. A small shaky breath left your cracked lips as a heat rose within. He pulled the sharp metal out from between his lips and smirked at you, eager fingers shoving the blade back into your hand, willing you to go again. Complying, you placed the blade to your arm, watching how his nose flared and his lips parted while you cut into your flesh, he practically drooled at the sight of fresh blood mingling with dried blood. You groaned, happy to be pleasing him as you slashed three more times. You held your arm out to him, delighted with your work. The clown silently laughed and gripped your arm tight, pulling it to his black lips, his tongue swirling around the fresh wounds, lapping up every trickle. A small moan left you, earning a startled glance from the clown, his lips shaped in an ‘o’ which quickly turned into an animalistic smile as he pulled away, satisfied, the colours around him fluctuating. You were far too lucid to pay mind to the impossibility of the dream soaked reality you had fabricated to truly appreciate your situation, and the fact that, this clown, however improbable he may seem, clearly cannot be a hallucination.

“Can you see them?” You suddenly ask, mesmerised at the way the clown amplified your surroundings.

The clown tilted his head, unsure as to what you meant.

“The colours, the faces.” You continue.

Art glanced around your room for a second and then shook his head.

“That’s a shame. They’re so pretty.” You giggled. “You’re pretty.” You blush at your sudden admittance as the clown batts his eyelashes and smirks at you, a hand waving you off.

His eyes burnt into yours and his pupils seemed to swirl in your intoxicated state.

He was beautiful, this man was beautiful, even as the colours around you faded to grey to black to white, your trip coming to an end. “I wonder if I’ll see you again next time.” You ponder, leaning closer to his face, soaking in every detail before he inevitably disappeared…but he never did and the usual pain that formed in the centre of your head began to build letting you know that your high was over. That was when a slight panic set in and your breathing became harsh.

“How are you still here?”

The clown silently laughed, pointing his finger at you in mockery.

“Who are you?”

The clown showed his teeth in a snarl as you leaned in even closer, a tentative finger reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. You half expected your hand to go through him like a hologram but as it connected with the padded feeling of a body, you laughed, unsure of what to do next as his hand reached up to your head and patted it.

“What do you want?” You blinked rapidly, the clown simply wagged his index finger side to side as he stood. Shaking legs from your high failed to get you to stand and your body all but began to crash to the floor before the monochrome man grabbed you and steadied you, throwing you down onto your bed. You went to stand again but the clown held a hand out to tell you to stay put.

He crouched down and grabbed your pills, shaking the contents dramatically with a plotting smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “They’re mine.”

The clowns focus unwavering as he disappears out of your room and out of your eye sight. Standing, your clumsy feet tripped over themselves, following him towards the bathroom where he stood over the toilet. Your heart sank as he unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle upside down, the pills spilling out like small white stones, clattering against the porcelain bowl.

“No!” You scream, rushing forward and into his body. “Stop!” But it was too late, he tossed the empty bottle to the floor and, in a swift motion, pushed the lever down. The sound of rushing water echoed in the small bathroom, your lifeline swirling away.

“Why did you do that? I need them…You-you don’t understand.” Tears well in your eyes as your voice croaked, turning to face the clown who was wiping his hands together as if to say he was finished with his work.

Panic became fear and fear became anger, a storm brewing inside as you lifted your hands and began hitting the clown on the chest, each strike fuelled by the frustration of loosing the one thing you need to survive. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

The clown stood there, his face monotone as he allowed you to project your emotions to him, not flinching once as you continued to whack your palms onto him. You wished he’d fight back, offer some sort of punishment, instead, he held your gaze, curious to see what you would do next, but nothing could have prepared him for the swell of pure sorrow that crashed down on you like a tidal wave as you delivered your last blow to him. Like a flood gate had opened, tears spilled down your face, your makeup melting away as water lines stained your cheeks and a harrowing sound that was alien to you came from deep within your throat. The clown watched as you fell to your knees and gripped onto his satin suit, deflated and utterly broken.

He titled his head and a silent sigh fell from him whilst he crouched down next to you, gripping your face harsh to look at him in the eyes. He offered a small smile, kinder somehow than the ones he’d given you previously, and his dark eyes glistened with an understanding that transcended words, a mute acknowledgment of the pain you were enduring.

Suffice to say, you were still none the wiser as to who this man was, but one thing was clear to you, he didn’t want you taking those drugs any more. “Why?” Your voice trembled as you searched his gaze, desperate for an answer. “You don’t know me, why do you care?”

The grip on your face loosened and his thumb traced the contours of your cheeks, following your tears and wiping them away.

“Who even are you?”

The clown pointed his finger in the air as if he had an idea then his legs took him to your mirror. He took a deep breath, puffing air against the glass, creating a thin layer of condensation that began to cloud on the reflective surface. Reaching his finger to the mirror, he began tracing letters, each stroke slow and careful. Once finished, he stepped back, arms presenting his work with an exaggerated flourish.

“Art?” You recite.

Art nods vigorously, a large smile stretching across his face as he clapped.

“I like it, it suits you.”

He then points at you, as if wanting you know your name.

“Me? I’m y/n.” You blush as he theatrically sits back next to you on the tiled floor and shakes your hand.

“But, Art, you still haven’t told me why you chucked my pills.”

Art rolls his eyes as if frustrated that you won’t let the subject go before pointing at the empty bottle on the floor and holding his hands in a cross shape and then sticking his tongue out and pointing his finger to his mouth. He shakes his hand like he disproves of you taking the pills.

“But what do I do without them now?”

The clown put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to him, your foreheads just touching, his other hand points at himself and then to you.

“What about us?” A million thoughts race through your head, confusion taking over.

He then points at himself again and then extends his palm and pushes it down in the air.

“You’ll stay?”

Art moves his head back and nods at this, seeming excited, hoping you’ll take up on his offer.

“This is crazy.” You laugh. “I mean, thank you but I don’t know you. You let yourself into my apartment for gods sake.”

Art is insistent, however, pointing at you and him again over and over and then placing his hands together as if pleading you. You knew this was mad, and if better judgement had been on your side you would have said no, but, still hazy from you high you said what you never thought you would have, “okay then.”

The clown jumps up to his feet and practically dances around the bathroom. You giggle at this, watching the man you’ve just met who just somehow became your new life line.

“Well, I’ll have to talk to Eliza about it. She’s my room mate. Did you see her on your way in?” You ask.

Art suddenly stops in his tracks and his demeanour shifts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He lifts his hands to the side near his head and offers a sheepish smile as if to say, ‘oops’.

“What did you do?”

The clown extends his arm out towards your still sitting form, head nodding to his hand for you to take it, which you gladly accept, electricity sparks within you from the contact causing you to blush. Slowly, he pulls you to your feet, making sure you were steady enough to walk, fingers gripping your hips as you swayed lightly. When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he gently covered your eyes with his hands and walked behind you, pushing you along, a playful gesture that sent a thrill down your spine. You hadn’t realised how tall he was until now, and your body practically pressed against his had you grinning, you could feel the way his heart was beating rapidly against his chest, mirroring your excitement.

Each step you took felt like a dance, swaying in time with Art with his sporadic energy, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary ahead. As you neared your destination, your footsteps stopped and Art paused for a moment, allowing the tension to swell like the crescendo of a symphony. He leaned closer, his lips practically brushing your ear. Your breathing became heavy and your legs wobbled from anticipation all while his hands cascaded down from your eyes and slid down your arms lightly, causing a slight hiss from you as he grazed your new cuts. The sudden feeling of loss of contact from him made you groan as he stepped away from you, your eyes still shut but soon flying open when he tapped your shoulder.

The sight that greeted you took your breath away - a scene that was both shocking and surreal was laid before your eyes and there, Art, the artist, proudly presented his work with a display of his hands and a smile, eyes wide. He stepped aside slightly, allowing you to get a full view of your slaughtered room mate, Eliza, a grotesque tableau of colour and chaos painted your living room. Her insides had been filleted and her once green eyes taken from her skull; intestines and liver spread out for all to see. The only recognisable feature describable was that of her blonde hair which helpless gripped to her torn scalp.

Art twirled on the spot, pointed at the scene and then to himself, sweeping his arms wide as if to proclaim, ‘isn’t it magnificent?’, inviting you to join his twisted revelry.

A laugh left you, a deep guttural laugh that shocked the clown as much as it did you. Why did you not scream? Or cry? Or run in terror? No tears, nothing. Just a laugh that seemed to continue for ages, even as the clown silently laughed and pointed at your dead room mate. The absurdity of the moment settled over you as you found yourself mixed in the magic of his madness. He watched you, clapping now as you clapped with him. Words never came to you, they don’t need to, a wordless array of astonishment was all you could offer as you waltzed over to him and let your lips touch his.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

I’m sorry, but, I genuinely don’t see as much love for Art as I thought I would. And by that, I don’t mean that he’s not liked, I just mean actual LOVE. I love him. Simple as that. When the remakes of IT came out, there were SOOOO many clown fuckers everywhere simping over Pennywise, myself included, so much so that we actually got hate haha. Where are all my clown fuckers again?? I see the same few that post but we need MORE because LOOK AT HIM 😍😍

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Terrified of you killing me part 2

Art the clown x reader

Warnings: mentions of self harm and blood ⚠️

——————

Enough was enough, you’d decided today. You knew you had to take matters into your own hands and would seek him out. Desperate to find your clown, eager to tell him that you can’t live without him. So, you set off, hair that hadn’t been brushed in days tied in a messy bun, no makeup and dark purple bags under your blood shot eyes. Frantically you searched, checking all his usual secret locations that only you knew. You checked his warehouse but it looked even more abandoned than before, if that was even possible. You checked the park where you met him that cold autumn night last year and even went as far as checking the morgue. Nothing. Sighing, you left for the only other place you could think of. A bar which you and him frequented occasionally during the Halloween season, the bar gave you some normalcy, being able to go on dates like a normal couple and Art being able to blend in amongst the others who dressed as him, the infamous miles county clown. It had become your favourite place to go with him. The bar had Karaoke and Art would watch in awe as you took to the stage and sang to him. Clapping his gloved hands, jumping up and down and blowing you kisses in excitement, he’d point at you and look at everyone to make sure they were paying attention with the widest grin on his face. It was the one place he’d agreed to never hurt anyone, and he was true to his word, even when a guy tried to flirt with you. The anger that painted his face worried you that night, scared he would break his promise but he waited until the guy had gotten home before he made sure he knew you were Arts, and Arts alone. He always was protective of you.

Stepping into that bar now, however, even on Halloween, felt like an echo, a blip in time. The bar was packed, full of people in fancy dress dancing along to whoever was singing Karaoke on the stage, even if they couldn’t hold a tune. Everyone was drunk so it didn’t matter how good they were as long as they could dance along. You pushed past the crowd, eyes scanning for him, your heart thumping in a rhythmic pattern that mirrored the beat of the song that was blurting through the speakers. Flashing lights of various colours illuminated the crowd and hope piqued at you for a second as you saw a slanted top hat, running forward you shout, “Art!” The man turned around with the worst makeup you’d ever seen, mimicking your clown. “S-sorry. I thought you were someone else.” You sagged and continued your search shaking your head. After some time, you headed up to the DJ, asking him if you could sing. “Please can you put this on?” You show him your phone with the title ‘Chokehold’ by Sleep Token. He nods and passes you the microphone. You step onto the stage, the lights dimming as the slow start of the song began. The crowd turned their heads to you, unsatisfied with the now dampened mood, unable to find a rhythm to dance to. Laughter filled the air but all you could hear was the deafening silence from his absence.

“When we were made. It was no accident.” You sang, your voice trembling but steady, ignoring the people on the dance floor. You sang only for Art. “We were tangled up like branches in a flood.”

The lyrics displayed your turmoil, left bare for everyone to see. “I come as a blade. A sacred guardian. So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood.” Memories of being here with Art flooded you, and as you closed your eyes, you pictured him there, watching you like you were the only person in the room. “You’ve got me in a chokehold. You’ve got me in a chokehold. You’ve got me in a”As the song transitioned into the chorus, the crowd started to dance along, finding their movements now in the heavier beat, drawn to the raw emotion in your voice, but you paid little mind to them.

“Beneath the stormy seas, above the mountain peaks, it’s all the same to me, it makes no difference. I’ve seen my days unfold, done the impossible. I’ll turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.” Tears welled in your eyes now.

“So show me, that which I cannot see. Even if it hurts me. Even if I can’t sleep. Oh, and though we act out of our holy duty to be constantly awake…” The intensity of the song grew now as you poured your soul into your performance, hoping he could hear you. “You’ve got me in a chokehold. You’ve got me in a chokehold. You’ve got me in chokehold. You’ve got me in a chokehold.” The crowd danced and swayed along, letting the music carry them as it crashed like waves.

You could hardly finish the ending of the song, fighting back sobs. “Even if it hurts me. Even if I can’t sleep, show me the way.” Your voice cracked at the last line and as the music faded, the crowd cheered at you but you didn’t care and the world faded around you, broken and alone you stood. But amongst the sea of people, your eyes caught onto someone hidden by the shadows and your eyes widened. It had to be him, you thought as the figure moved into the light. Your breath hitched and heart fluttered and your legs gave way beneath you as you fell to your knees. “Art!” You sob above the noise. He approached you slowly, the air thick with unspoken words, his expression unreadable for such an expressive man. He pushed through the crowd who looked between the two of you both. By now, he was stood in front of the stage, with you being on the stage and knelt, you were his hight. His eyes glued to yours, he almost looked sad, an emotion that seldom came over him, the pain in his eyes matched yours. He lifted a tentative hand to your cheek which you leaned into, craving to feel his touch. His thumb lightly wiped the stray tears that flowed down your face. You could only shake your head, the silence between you speaking louder than any conversation you’d ever had. “Art-“ you tried but art lifted a finger to your lips to quiet you and you nodded. He grabbed the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and leaned your forehead softly against his, scared you might break. You gripped at his suit for dear life and shook violently against him in your fear he would leave again. You needed confirmation that he was staying. He lifted his head and planted a kiss on your forehead before looking back into your eyes, his gaze full of regret. Then, he kissed you gently. It was like a lightning bolt had shot straight through your core, it was better than your first kiss as it held more meaning than a passionate fury, and the crowd cheered, clearly watching the two of you and realising who you were singing about. When he pulled back he offered you a small smile which you returned. “You came back.”

He nodded his head and moved his hands frantically, miming something to you but your mind was racing and you couldn’t figure out his quick gestures. You shook your head and laughed through tears. “What?” You asked.

He stopped and thought about his next movements. He placed a finger to his chest, held his hands to an ‘x’ and then angled his thumb behind him as if to say ‘he will never leave again.’ Then lightly hit himself on the head as if to say he was stupid. He placed a finger to himself, drew a love heart in the air and then pointed to you.

“I love you too.” You smiled as he peppered kisses on your hand but abruptly stopped as he noticed your sliced wrists. Art winced and sagged his head low. You instantly knew he’d spotted your cuts. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do without you.”

Art brought his lips up to the cuts and kissed them, you thought he’d be mad but he seemed to understand the stress you’d been through during his absence. He gestured for you to come down from the stage which you did with the guide of his hand and then picked you up bridal style, walking through the on lookers and out of the door of the bar.

“Where are we going?” You giggle.

He moves his head to a direction.

“Home?”

He nods a yes.

The rest of the night was made up with cuddles and Art making you multiple cups of tea. You knew he felt bad for leaving you but he tried to make you understand why he did. He would write on a piece of paper that he thought it was what was best for you and that he didn’t want to leave you either. He mentioned he hadn’t even killed anyone as he was too depressed to even move. He made sure you knew that he was never going anywhere again, miming out apologises again and again. And as the weeks progressed it was like he’d never left but the nightmares you once had disappeared into a distant memory.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Terrified of you killing me Art the Clown x reader

The night wrapped around you with a thick fog, suffocating and heavy as you ran towards the dark alley with heavy feet that seemed to take you nowhere. Your breathing staggered and time slowed, the line between reality and a nightmare blurring. Art loomed over you, the monochrome clown you knew so well, the man you loved, was holding a chainsaw and a crazed smile painted across his face. He’d caught up to his prey and you were rendered helpless as he lifted his weapon and began hacking at your arm. A piercing scream left your cracked lips in your dream just as it did in your laying form on your bed.

You bolted upright, your heart racing and sweat beading on your forehead. Art barged into your room holding the same chainsaw from your dream, raising it above his head ready to attack as the blade whizzed around breaking the silence in the room. His eyes were wide like a crazed animal and panic etched across his white painted face. You scream again, fear washing over you thinking that he’d finally decided to kill you, that he’d got fed up of you. Arts eyes widened, his mouth opened to an ‘o’ shape and he threw the chainsaw to the ground which landed with a loud clatter, still roaring with life, the blade vibrating with a menacing hum. He begin miming frantically, shaking his head and moving his hands in multiple gestures to show you he meant no harm. You watched the chainsaw in horror as it sliced through your bedroom door, splinters of wood flying. He pointed to the chainsaw, then to you and shook his head again, urgency on his face as he rushed to your side.

“Art, what the hell are you doing?” You shout over the growl of the chainsaw.

He grabbed your trembling hands and looked you straight in the eyes, offering a small smile.

“I-I thought you were going to kill me.” You cried.

He pointed at himself, shock on his face, and shook his head vigorously. Art pulled you into a tight hug as you grasped at his clown suit for dear life. Breathing in his scent.

“Did you think someone was attacking me?” You quiz, your body shaking.

He nodded his head .

“And you were going to kill them?”

He gave a small grin and held his hands out as if to say, ‘maybe’ then sat behind you, pulling you into his body as he rocked you. “I’m okay. Just another bad dream.” You smiled slightly, fully aware of how strange this situation was. You were in a relationship with a wanted serial killer clown who you were terrified would snap and kill you one day. But here he was, protecting you in his own strange way. “Thank you for coming to rescue me.”

He planted a faint kiss on your head.

“Although, it was you killing me in my dream.” You laughed.

You felt Art wince, he turned you to face him. He grabbed your phone and began typing something on the notes page. He showed you the sentence he wrote, ‘I will NEVER hurt you.’

You smile up at him, watching how he points to himself, draws a love heart in the air and then points at you.

“I love you too.” Relief washing over you as your lips connect for a moment. Art is your home and you couldn’t imagine life being any other way.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

I had you in my grip

Pairing: Y/N x Noah Sebastian

Warning: Death, pain, kissing, possible NSFW content in later chapters, 18+

Word count: 1798

Part one

No God, no religion. The four words that spun spirals around your head now echoing loud within the halls of the church you'd found yourself in on this Sunday morning for your best friends, daughters christening. You pondered on the fact that if there was a God, he was surely judging you right now, whilst the face of his son was staring at you from the sunlit stained glass. As the vicar invited everyone into prayer, you felt like an impostor, noting everyone joined in, knowing the words like a well rehearsed script, their eyes shut and hands together. 'Amen', reverberated off the walls from their unison, understanding their prayer was now fixed, a message to their God. Looking down at your watch you panicked. 'shit.' You noticed the Vicar snap his head towards you, disapproval on his face, a small, 'sorry' escaped your mouth. Your work meeting was about to take place in 10 minutes and you couldn't be late. Your friend already knew that you had to go to this meeting and that it couldn't be missed. You gave her a small wave and then quickly took off and out of the sacred building. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind you like God was kicking you out, guilt twanging in your heart that you couldn't stay for your best friend, but relief washing over you. 'Hopefully I won't have to come back to one of these until someone dies', you laugh to yourself as you unlock your car and climb into it.

Thankfully, your workplace was only round the corner so you should make it on time. Slamming your foot on the gas you speed out of the car park and join the road. You flipped down the mirror on the sunvisor and reapply your lipstick, not paying much attention to the road until a beep from your left brings you back, you'd almost gone into the other lane. Panicking, you swing the steering wheel to put you back on track, 'shit', you cursed again, catching a quick glimpse at yourself in the mirror not seeing you smudged red lipstick on your cheek in the almost accident. You wiped it off and had to slam your foot on the break as to not hit the car in front of you. 'Damn what is up with me today?' You mutter. A smash was the last thing you heard before your car was being rolled sideways and down the hill on the grass banking. The world was tumbling around you, and before you even had a second to fully register what was happening, it was over everything went black.

It didn't happen like they say movies, your life didn't flash before your eyes over and again like projection, you didn't think about everything you wished you could've done and regrets never came to mind. Your life just came to an end. It was over. Your existence would soon become a shadow of what once was, and your friends and family would probably mourn you in that church you had been in today.

Darkness descended into a realm where the sun is silent and eternal flame burns.

"Welcome, Y/N." A velvet voice bellowed and reverberated back to you, rattling your being. Your eyes snapped open as your hands groped at the cold stone floor beneath your laying form. Standing, you looked for the man who had spoken your name only moments ago but had to strain your eyes as the only light describable was that of which the glow of the fire river touched. A silhouette cascaded and shadowed your much smaller figure, rendering you completely at its mercy.

"Are you the devil? Am I in Hell?". You croaked out and he tutted back at you.

"'No God, no religion', isn't that what you always said, Y/N?"

"Yes but I died, didn't I?"

"That you did." The figure edges forward.

"So, then where am I?"

"You, my dear, are in the world of the unconscious, and I am the fucking king." He stepped into the light as the fire erupted behind him and fell back into itself. His cloak of shadows trailing behind, each penumbra ricocheting off of the other until they came to a sudden stop, flowing around his tall and thin stature. On top of his short black hair sat a golden crown which reflected the fire to the side of you and relayed your own fragile image back to yourself.

"Strange." You declared.

"What is?" He laughed wickedly.

"I've spent my entire existence dismissing - no - refusing that there was a life after death, but"

"This is not life, Y/N". He interrupted. "Your life ended in that car, everything you was in the land of the living serves no purpose here. You are but an empty vessel drifting through space. Lost."

Your stomach dropped at his words, your past self was now rendered insignificant. A solitary tear fell down your cheek. The man lifted his hand up to you, and wiped the stray tear away with his thumb.

"Don't cry. Though you may have been confined here, you do not walk alone." The king whispered softly, a soothing warmth embedded within and your eyes locked. "Other souls reside here, and I will always be close by." A slight smile tucked into at the corner of his lips and disappeared almost instantly, bringing a sense of comfort to your new existence. You offered him a smile back. "Now, please follow Me." He extended his hand out towards you, which you took without even a moments hesitation.

"Where are we going?" You ask as fire from the river spluttering around you almost burnt you.

Watch out for Phlegethon." He motioned to the fire river. "We are going on a tour."

"Is this some elaborate trick to chuck me into a room where you can torture me?" You laugh nervously.

"Torture? No." He laughed. "That is for later."

You gulped and hoped he was joking. "Do you give tours to everyone? Surely that would take forever."

"No, only to my most special guests." He winks.

It felt like hours had passed as the king takes you around a slither of the realm as he explained it would take a millennium to explore it all. You noted how a lot of it looked the same, more fire, more stone, some rooms here and there. You walked past a few of the other souls who seem to have lost all sense of purpose yet some tried to speak to you but your king would cast them aside, even chucking one into the fire in a rage. He made you aware that until you had spent a significant amount of time here, they would be under the illusion that you were alive and would try to bargain with you. In exchange for what, you didn't dare ask.

"So, I know you're my king but, do you have a name?" You question.

"Noah." His hand tightened around yours.

"Noah?" You laugh. "So not anything like Satan or Asmodeus?"

Noah tilts his head to the side. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this was my given name."

"No, I like it." You smile. "Not threatening, I suppose."

"I don't threaten you?" Noah's face changes as he slams you into a wall, arms either side of you. You shook your head.

"I am the keeper of the damned, the ruler of the underworld, torturer and punisher. I don't threaten you?" Your core burnt at the closeness. His face so close to yours, you couldn't help but note how gorgeous he was.

"No." You couldn't explain it, but there was a glossiness that cast over his eyes that dared you to carry on. "I am not threatened by you."

Noah narrowed his eyes, a flicker of anger passed through his features. "You underestimate the depths of my power, little one." He warned. "Do you not understand the consequences of questioning me? Your suffering is at my command, your mind cannot comprehend the torture I can and will inflict upon you."

"And what torture might that be, Noah?" Flirtation in your voice and a glint of playfulness in your eyes as they glanced between his eyes and his lips.

"Eager to find out, are you?" Noah lifted his hand up to your cheek and before you could even respond his lips were on yours in a heated passion. Your stomach did flips as you responded with the same hunger and your hand found its way into his hair and pulled it slightly, begging for more. He bit your bottom lip hard and drew blood. You moaned through the pain and tasted the copper liquid as your tongues collided in a fiery dance, both fighting to win dominance.

But then, a sudden jolt of pain spread through your chest causing you to break the kiss and gasp out, your eyes wide. "What did you do, Noah?" You ask as you clutch to where your heart would be.

"N-nothing." He retracts as he watches you fall to the floor and scream in pain as another bolt floods through you, an intense feeling you'd never experienced before, it felt like electricity causing through you. Noah kneels down beside you. "I don't understand what's happening! I swear, this isn't my doing." He shouts out, worry tinged in his voice and confusion painted across his face as he reaches out to grab your hand.

"Make it stop." You choke out a sob as you claw at your chest.

"I don't know how!" He scans the area to see if there's anything or any soul doing this to you.

"Fuck!" You scream in agony as another hit pulls you through the darkness.

Your eyes snap open and a breath floods your lungs. Bright light penetrates your eyes causing you to squint.

"We've got her." A woman's voice shouts out from next to you. "Welcome back to the land of the living." You notice the paddles of a defibrillator in her hands. Blinking rapidly, you struggle to make sense of your surroundings as you lay sprawled out on a road with glass and blood surrounding you. Then to the corner of your eyes you notice your car on its side and remember that you'd crashed and ended up in a different world.

"N-Noah?" You croak. "Where's, Noah?"

"Is that your boyfriend? Was he in the car too?"

"No." Had you dreamed all of this? Surely not. It had all seemed so real. Disoriented was an understatement so you tried to sit up.

"Wow wow. Stay laid down, we don't know if you've broken anything. We need to place a neck brace on you and get you on a board."

That was the last thing you remembered before you blacked out.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

This is obviously not Pennywise related I’m sorry but my heart is broken over the last episode of Good Omens and after re watching it again and again I noticed something I didn’t notice the past few times - I was curious on whether anyone else had picked it up as I haven’t seen it mentioned anywhere yet…

Crowley says, “no nightingales” obviously referring to the Ritz and they won’t be dining there. Crowley waits for Aziraphale outside the car but Aziraphale still goes in the lift to heaven. Our hearts are broken, we are all crying yada yada….Then, Crowley turns on his car and their song comes on. “A Nightingale sang at Berkeley square.” But it’s what I heard before that song came on that alarmed me…the sound which shows there has been a miracle performed. And fans of the show will know which sound I mean. I hadn’t heard it before, like I mentioned. But why would Crowley need to miracle that song on for himself? He’s too heart broken to hear it and he turns it off when he hears it. It’s also too coincidental for it to come on by itself. Yes the car does things but I am not aware of it to be able to perform miracles. So, did Aziraphale Miracle that song on? Did he put the song on in the car for Crowley so that he could hear the Nightingales sing like he wanted to?

To me, I think that both Crowley and Aziraphale believed the other rejected them and are left equally as heart broken but Aziraphale hearing the Metatron talk about ‘the second coming’ made him realise Crowley was right. Heaven is not good. But he needs to know what they are doing in order to stop it. So, was putting the song on Aziraphales way of saying “I’m coming back and I love you.”?

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Secret admirer

Warnings: Bullying, injury

—————

You saw him every day without fail sitting at his usual table with the hell fire club whilst you sat alone, keeping your distance from the jocks and the cheerleaders who purposely went out of their way to humiliate you.

Eddie Munson had a hold on you, not that he knew since you purposely avoided him at all cost, scared you would embarrass yourself. So instead, you kept your head down, in your note book writing the odd word, stealing a glance at him with every opportunity you could get. You loved his hair, clothes and how he could capture a whole room like a performer. He was extremely attractive to say the least.

Your view of Eddie was suddenly replaced with a blonde haired jock. “Hey there, freak.” Jason sat down opposite you with a slam. “What you writing?” His grin menacing.

“I’m just doing some homework.” You whispered back. “English.” You tried your best to cover your writing.

“Let me see!” Snatching your note book from you he begins reading, a smirk forming on his face. “Awh, what’s this? A poem?” He laughs looking at the jocks. “And it’s about that freak over there.” He points at Eddie, you feel a lump forming in your throat, embarrassment flooding through you as he begins to read it out loud, jumping up on your table for everyone to hear. The whole cafeteria was quiet, waiting for the show.

“There is someone that I love that doesn’t even know me.

I often wandered how long it would take for him to see.”

You quickly glance at Eddie who looks shocked and as equally confused.

“Trapped alone staring at four walls, knowing I won’t be yours.

Yes, you see my dreams of you are the only thing that cures.”

Jason and the rest of the cafeteria were all laughing by this point. “And underneath it says ‘for Eddie Munson’, what a loser.” Ripping the page in front of you he jumps off the table. You couldn’t believe you had just been humiliated like that in front of the whole school, and especially Eddie. Now he knew how you felt. You just wanted to disappear.

“Please, Jason. Stop. ” You pleaded, tugging on your sleeves. Your eyes locked onto Eddie’s for a brief second, worry spread across his face. By this point tears had started spilling down your cheeks as the rest of the jocks pooled round the two of you laughing whilst one of them pulled your chair from out under you. With a slam, your head connected with the floor. You grimaced in pain and touched the stinging part of your head that had impacted the floor. You pulled your hand back to see blood. “What’s up freak? Did we hurt you?” The whole cafeteria laughing once more. “Get up and look at us!” Jason spat. You remained unmoving, hoping the world would swallow you whole and that Eddie would stop staring.

“I said look at me bitch!” You stood and steadied yourself before you gained the courage to look at Jason in the eyes. “That’s better. Now. Clean up your mess.” He said whilst tipping your water all over you and the floor. You yelped out feeling your ice cold liquid dropping on your head and down your back.

“Leave her alone!” Was that Eddie? It was. He was storming down to confront Jason. But why? “What’s she ever done to you?”

“Ah, the other freak wants to play too!” Jason laughed. “Did you like her little poem?”

“Haven’t you done enough damage here?”

“Nah. I’m just getting started, cock sucker.” Jason pushed Eddie, making him stumble backwards slightly.

“You dick.” Eddie launched at him pinning him to the ground as he landed two punches. You know his rings would leave an indent on Jason’s face. Hands then began to drag Eddie off; the jocks punched and kicked Eddie. You could hear Eddie grunting and see blood coming from his nose even though he was trying his best to cover his face.

“Stop!” You sobbed, trying to get in the middle of the fight, getting kicked and punched in the process.

Saved by the bell, the jocks jumped off him, then spat on him walking off to their lessons. You could hear them shouting, “this isn’t over, freaks.”

“Eddie, oh my god. Are you okay?” You crawled over to him.

“Don’t worry about me.” He groaned whilst sitting up smiling, wiping the blood under his nose with his hand. “Princess, you’re bleeding!” His face dropped noticing the cut on your head, he grimaced daring to touch it.

“P-princess?” You whispered, not sure if you’d heard him right feeling heat in your cheeks.

“Come on, I’m getting you cleaned up.” He stood up and grabbed your hand. By now the canteen was mostly empty and you knew this would be the talk of the school for the rest of the month.

You were being lead into the toilets by Eddie, the guy who only exchanged the odd glance and smile with you in the few lessons you share. The guy who now knew your true feelings about him.

“Does it hurt?” He asks whilst cleaning the wound on your head.

“A little.” You hissed. “I-I’m sorry about what happened in there.” You shake your head. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. If it’s any consolation I thought the poem was lovely and I’m extremely flattered that a beautiful young maiden wrote about me.” He says bowing with a smile.

“Eddie, why are you helping me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, looking confused at you. Blood dripping from his nose once more.

“You never even talk to me.” You shivered feeling your wet clothes clinging to you.

“Here. Take this.” He starts taking off his jacket to put over you.

“N-no, I can’t take that.” You protest.

“I insist.” Smiling, he helps you into his signature jacket. “It looks better on you anyway.” He winks, hand on your shoulder.

You blush slightly under his gaze, almost forgetting the situation you were in until your winced feeling a throbbing in your head again.

“Shit, Y/N. This looks deep. You might need stitches.” He panics. “We need to get you dried up too.”

“I don’t have any spare clothes on me and my parents will be so mad if they see me like this!” You plant your face in your hands as you cry.

“Hey, hey. Come on sweetheart. Come here.”He wraps you in his arms as you shake against him, shoulders moving up and down with your sobs. He strokes your wet hair trying to calm you. After a few minutes your crying had eased and you broke away from his hug.

“Oh, Eddie. Your shirt, I’m sorry!” Noticing the mess you’d made from crying into him.

“No foul. I have spares.” He shrugs. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You ask as he grabs your hand for the second time today, butterflies in your stomach.

“To mine.”

••••

The ride to his was quiet as you gathered your thoughts still unsure as to why Eddie was being so nice. You’d always had a crush on him but you knew he didn’t feel the same way about you. How could he? He was perfect and you were, well, you. Yet you couldn’t help but notice the worried glances he kept giving you on the journey. Admittedly you were surprised he was helping you and that he hadn’t ran a mile thinking you were a creep or a stalker after hearing your poem about him.

You’d never been to Eddie’s trailer so you had no idea what to expect until you recognised where you were. “Max lives in the trailer over there!” You pointed out as his van pulled into the trailer park. “I’ve been here before. A few times actually.”

“Well, I’m sure you already know not to expect much then.” He laughed. “I live here with my uncle but he works a lot, so he’s barely in.”

“Will he be in now?” You asked in a panic, not wanting to meet someone new.

“No princess.” There he was with the name again. “His car isn’t here.” Eddie parks his van next to his trailer and runs round to your side opening your door for you. “Mi lady.” He bows, holding his hand out for you. Giggling, you take it and start being led to his trailer.

“Welcome to my castle, princess.” He opens the door. You step in and take in your surroundings. Empty beer cans on the side and pots stacked up waiting to be washed. It was small, but felt like a home. “If I knew I was going to have company today, I would have cleaned.” He laughs awkwardly scratching his head.

“No, it’s nice. Don’t worry about that.” Your eyes locking for a few seconds and you notice you’re still holding his hand.

“Erm, why don’t you go have a shower? You can have some of my clothes to change into and I will put yours in the washer.”

“Thank you, Eddie. Really. You’re too kind.”

••••

It felt weird showering in Eddie’s shower, using his shampoo and his body wash and then getting into his clothes. You had to admit you loved that you were wearing his AC/DC shirt. It was really oversized coming just above your knees and it smelt like him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Slipping on some of his joggers was strange as they were ridiculously baggy so you had to tie them tight so they wouldn’t come down. You felt so much better for that shower, even if the shampoo had stung the cut on your head.

“Y/N, how you getting on in there.” Eddie was on the other side of the bathroom door.

“I-I’m done actually.” Unlocking the door to a smiling Eddie. God you loved that smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You giggled noticing Eddie staring at you in his clothes biting his lip, his arm resting high on the door frame.

“The joggers were big so I’ve had to tie them super tight, and the top is, well, obviously way too big.” You glanced down at yourself.

“Why do you look better in my clothes than I do princess?” His eyes locked onto yours for what felt like an eternity as butterflies pirouetted round your stomach. “Come on, let’s get you comfy.” He lead you to his bedroom which was covered in band posters, guitars hanging on the wall too. You often wondered what his bedroom looked like and this was pretty much what you were expecting.

You both sat on his bed, Eddie checking the wound on your head again. “I think you’re okay, I’m fairly sure you don’t actually need stitches after all, how are you feeling?”

“Sore. Embarrassed. Tired. The list goes on.” You joke.

“What have you got to be embarrassed about?” He quizzes you, sitting closer to you.

“Well, I mean, Eddie. Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“Come on, my poem. How I feel.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I felt the same about you?” Your head snapped up.

“E-Eddie, you, you’re just saying that.”

He smirked at you playfully and reached his hand out to yours. “No, Y/N, I’m not.”

You dared yourself to touch his hand with your other, playing with his rings. “Do you mean that?” Eddie connected his lips with yours and your heart exploded. The kiss was careful like he was scared of hurting you. Your hand wrapping in his hair and his hand on your cheek.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathed, lips still close to yours.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

Get Down, Make Love

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: corroded coffin is looking for a new lead singer and you're the perfect candidate. but it turns out your new band comes with more than one benefit.

words: 4.6k

warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, making out, fingering, oral (f!recieving), brief mention of weed

a/n: this is the first part in a series, idk how many parts it will have yet. also my first time writing smut.

It was two days ago that you spotted the flier pinned to the notice-board outside the school cafeteria. The words written on it had told you that a local band, called ‘Corroded Coffin’, was looking for a new lead singer. 

You had been looking for a band to join for what felt like decades. You knew that you could sing, but you were also self aware enough to know you’d never make a break on your own. You just didn’t have what it took for a solo career. Saying that you weren’t a socialbird would be an understatement. Making friends or connections wasn’t a talent that you possessed. So, in order for you to make it in the music industry, you would need a band to help pave the way. 

And there was your opportunity, pinned to the giant notice-board, along with posters about the upcoming basketball game and other stuff you’d never cared about. 

The flier had indicated that ‘Corroded Coffin’ was a rock band, whose taste leaned towards metal. In all honesty, metal wasn’t exactly your preferred subgenre, but your heart had its own devoted section for rock music–and Roger Taylor. This was probably a contributing factor to why people didn’t swarm around you, begging to be your friend. The band tees, the leather jacket and combat boots–along with the chains, rings and heavy eyeliner–didn’t exactly invite people in. 

But, in the end, that didn't matter–you could learn to love heavy metal if it meant you got to be on stage. That’s why you were currently spending your Thursday night in your car driving to The Hideout. You pulled into the bar’s parking lot with nine minutes to spare. There were fewer cars parked outside than you’d been expecting. Hopefully, people had decided against driving after a night of shooting back a pack of beers. 

As you swung the door open you were met by a strong odor of sweat, cheap cologne and alcohol. Your eyes scanned the crowd, but all you could see were a couple of men, all over the age of forty. That’s when it hit you that you actually had no idea who ‘Corroded Coffin’ was. And as you kept scanning the crowd a knot of doubt started growing in your stomach. What if the poster was old? What if the Friday in question wasn’t this Friday, but a Friday weeks ago? 

You checked your watch–7:58. You decided that you were gonna stick around for a few more minutes to see if anyone showed up. Surely, you couldn’t be the only kid in all of Hawkins interested in joining a band, right? 

That’s when you spotted a dark head of long, curly hair, over the sea of balding ones. This head was approaching you at a steady pace. And you knew, before he turned a corner and you spotted his trademark Hellfire shirt, that the person nearing you was Eddie, The Freak, Munson. 

No, not The Freak. You never referred to him as a freak, because he wasn’t any more of a freak than you were. And also because it was insensitive and shitty going around referring to someone as The Freak. He was Eddie Munson, a person. 

That sounded kinda weird. It wasn’t like you regularly walked around thinking about Eddie Munson, and whether or not the judgment he’d been dealt was unjust–which it was. You only meant that, in the general sense, it never sat right with you to call anyone a freak. 

“You here to audition?” You snapped out of your thoughts to find Eddie standing a few feet in front of you. He looked down at you, eyebrows slightly raised, the shadow of a smile splayed over his lips. 

“Y-yes! Right,” you stammered, trying to kickstart your brain back up. “I’m-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off. 

“You know who I am?” You gave him a puzzled look. 

“You’re pretty much the only girl in that entire school who doesn’t exclusively buy their clothes at the Gap,” he smirked. 

“How can you be sure? Have you checked the tags on them?” you smirked back at him. “What if I just buy my stuff there and dye it black?” He chuckled at that. 

“Did you write ‘AC/DC’ on that shirt yourself, then?” 

“Wait, you don’t do that?” You furrowed your brows and tried to look perplexed, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your mouth. 

“You’re funny,” he said, while throwing his arm over your shoulders and beginning to guide you towards, what you assumed, were the rest of his bandmates. Your first thought was that Eddie smelled a lot nicer than you thought he would–not that you’d thought about what he’d smell like. You had expected him to reek of cheap cologne and weed, but he smelled vaguely of pine and cedar, with a hint of cigarettes. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” you murmured. 

Eddie stopped the two of you in front of two guys you recognized from school, but whose names you couldn’t remember. 

“I present to you, the rest of Corroded Coffin.” Eddie gestured towards the three boys with his free hand. You gave them a little wave, that’s honestly pretty damn awkward. 

“Holy smokes, someone actually showed?” said one of the guys, wearing a red flannel, looking between you and Eddie. The other guy also glanced between the pair of you, and all of a sudden Eddie’s arm seemed to burn your shoulders. At the same time, he appeared to realize your position as well, removing his arm and awkwardly stepping to the side. 

“Guys, this is Y/N.” Eddie gestured towards you this time. They eyed you up, and you were ready for one of them to make a comment about you being a girl, or something along those lines. But instead one of them locked eyes with you. 

“Favorite band?” he asked. 

“Queen,” you responded without a doubt. 

“Solid.”

“Should we do a Queen song, then?” Eddie asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you want to sing a Queen song? So we can hear how you sound?” 

“Yeah. Sure.” You had almost forgotten that you were gonna have to sing something. “Do you guys know how to play ‘Hammer to Fall’?” 

Eddie said “yes” at the same time the other guys said “no”. They then suggested you sing with only the guitar in the background, so they could better hear your voice. You and Eddie got through the song together, drawing some attention from the drunks scattered around the room. 

By the time Eddie had put his guitar down, you had begun nervously picking at the hem of your miniskirt. None of them showed any indication as to whether your performance met their standards or not. The three of them huddled together and began whispering. You tried to make out at least a few words, but you couldn’t catch anything. 

After a while Eddie turned around slowly. His face bore a stern expression and you felt your stomach sink. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie began, your heart breaking a little. “But it looks like you’re gonna have to start spending some time with the freaks of Hawkins High,” he continued. 

“You can’t begin like that!” you exclaimed, striking his chest with the back of your hand. Eddie sent you a wide smile and caught your hand, before holding it between his own. Suddenly, there were butterflies in your stomach. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled and pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. The butterflies escaped into your chest. 

That’s how you became the lead singer of Corroded Coffin. That’s also how you ended up in the school cafeteria, a couple weeks later, arguing with Dustin Henderson about what time Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon. 

“It was at 2:54 am!” Dustin exclaimed, frustrated.

“No, it was at 2:56, Dustin!” you bellowed back. 

“Are you not listening to me? He took his first step onto the moon at-”

“Listen to the lady, Henderson,” Eddie cut in. “She’s usually right.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you smiled at him. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, against his will. 

“Eddie, no offense,” Dustin started off, “but you’ve failed to graduate high school, like, three times.” Everyone at the table went quiet. “So, I don’t exactly trust your opinion.” 

You had to cover up the laugh that tried to escape you with a cough. Eddie stopped glaring at Dustin for a second to glare at you. “Sorry,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Dustin's face had gone slack as he realized what he’d just said. “Eddie, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright, Henderson.” The tension in the younger boy's shoulders went away immediately as he let out a breath. “But you’re still wrong.” 

You had never seen a person's mouth from such a straight line. You could tell that Dustin had fought with all his strength to not say anything. 

“Not to rain on your parade, man,” Mike cut in, “but it was at 2:56.”

“Michael!” Dustin snapped at the other boy, with such force it was a miracle his “Thinking Cap” hadn’t flown across the room. 

You giggled into the back of your hand. What you didn’t notice was the smirk that grew on Eddie's lips when he saw you laugh. 

Then you remembered that you’d wanted to talk to Eddie about one of the songs the two of you had been working on. There was one line in the second verse that you felt just wasn’t right, and you needed to fix it before the gig tonight. 

“Eds?” 

“Yes, princess?” You ignored the heat that rushed to your cheeks. 

You pulled the notepad out of your bookbag and showed the right page to him. “I think we should change this,” you said, pointing to the words. 

He leaned in to get a better view. “Yeah, you’re right. That doesn’t look right.” His words were spoken right into your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. 

The two of you went back and forth, trying out new words to see what would sound the best. When the bell rang, you weren’t even close to finished. Because the more you looked at the song, the more you realized it was crap. Maybe some of the weed you’d smoked while writing it was to blame. 

“We have to get this fixed before tonight,” Eddie stated. “We promised we would have a new song for tonight.” 

“Oh, yes, we can’t disappoint the handful of drunks who happen to be there tonight,” you chuckled. 

“They’ve started paying more attention since you joined.” You rolled your eyes at that. 

“But, I agree. We gotta fix this.” Your eyes met his. “I’ll be at your place around 4. That sound good?” 

“Thank you,” he said, then planted a quick kiss to the top of your head before hurrying away. 

“Why are you in a rush to get to class?” you called after him. 

“I gotta graduate this year!” 

Your knuckles never got the chance to strike the front door of Eddie’s trailer. Instead, it swung open, with you still holding your closed fist up like an idiot. You lowered it awkwardly, tucking your hand into your pocket.  

“Hello, there,” he smirked at you.

“Hi,” you got out, sounding like a moron.

Eddie stepped to the side, letting you enter. You glanced around the trailer. There was no sign of Eddie’s uncle, but his comings and goings weren’t something you’d yet figured out. You knew he worked nights at the plant. But, surely, it was too early for him to have already left, right? Whatever. 

Half an hour later and you were sprawled out on Eddie’s bed, notepad in front of you and pen between your teeth. Eddie sat in his desk chair, guitar in hand. Your eyes tracked his ringed fingers as they moved over the strings, going from chord to chord. Their movement had you in a trance. The way your mind tended to wander when you were around Eddie was something you liked to ignore–yet it happened all the same. 

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up!” (I apologize) 

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?” 

“Are you even listening?”

“Sorry.” You buried your face in your hands. 

“Let’s take a break,” Eddie said, then pressed play on whatever cassette he’d listened to earlier. You smirked as Freddie Mercury’s voice met your ears. 

“Queen?” You looked up at him with big eyes. 

“I was prepared, just in case,” he said, suddenly shy. 

“Aww, you’re a softie.” A smile washed over your face. 

Eddie sat down next to you on the bed and shoved your shoulder playfully. “I am not!”

“Yes, you are!” The tip of your finger jabbed him in the side. He snatched your wrist before you could pull it away. As you tried to wring it out of his grip, he took the opportunity to grab your other arm as well. You were now fighting to get both of your hands back. But Eddie easily used your arms to swing your body down onto the bed. You continued to struggle, and in order to hold you still he pinned your body down under his own. 

You looked up into his eyes, gazing right back down at you. Your chests were heaving slightly from the exertion. For a brief moment, Eddie's gaze strayed to your lips. Then they did it again and once more, until they stayed there. 

“Have I ever told you I had a crush on you last year?” He spoke the words quietly, afraid you were gonna make fun of him.  

“No.” 

“You were sat in the cafeteria, combat boots up on the table,” he looked back at your eyes. “You had your Walkman with you and I could hear ‘Run to the Hills’ blaring through your headphones. It took me three weeks to not look for you the second I stepped in there. And every single day you were sitting at the same table, alone. I drove myself crazy, wondering what would happen if I just walked over there.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he had the chance to respond, you raised your head off the mattress and crashed your mouth against his. It took him a few seconds to react. Once he did, your head was slammed back down onto the bed, his lips working hungrily against your. 

Your hands went up to cup the sides of his face and draw in nearer, while Eddie’s hands grabbed at your hips. He pulled away from your lips, and you were certain he would say something about how you couldn’t continue what you were doing. But instead he started trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. 

You gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue trailing after to soothe the area. You tangled your fingertips into the curly hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer. He planted kisses along your collarbone, before returning his mouth to your neck. 

You were panting underneath him. His mouth sucked on your neck. You knew it would leave a mark, but you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care. And honestly, there was a part of you that wanted him to mark you up, claim you. 

“Eddie,” you breathed, as the suction on your neck grew rougher. 

You felt Eddie smirk against your skin as he hummed. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt. He began pushing it up every so slowly, giving you the chance to stop him. But you just arched your back in response, willing him to push it up farther. However, he left it bunched up right before your bra could be revealed. You let out a disappointed huff. 

“I wanna feel before I see,” he mused and let his fingers slide underneath the fabric of your top. He grasped your covered breasts and squeezed lightly. The way you let out a shaky breath let him know you enjoyed it. So he gave them another squeeze, harder this time. You raised your chest, asking for more, and he obliged. 

He ran a thumb over your nipple. Your body shuddered in response, causing Eddie to smirk and do it again. A whimpering sound escaped your lips. You felt heat pooling between your legs, certain that if Eddie went on like this, a wet patch was gonna form in your underwear. 

Eddie removed his hands from your chest, and a frown appeared on your lips. To your delight, they made quick work of removing your shirt. You helped him get it off, then tossed it onto the floor. The cool air contrasted against your flushed skin, which caused goosebumps to form across your body.  

Eddie was staring down at you, examining your chest. The piercing attention made you feel self conscious, your hands instinctively going up to cover yourself. But Eddie was quicker, taking your arms and pinning them to your sides. 

“Don’t,” was all he said. 

So you tried looking away to escape his examining eyes. He grabbed your jaw with rough fingers, forcing you to turn your head towards him. Still, you refused to meet his eyes. 

“Look at me.” Reluctantly, you locked your gaze on his. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful.” He said the last part more to himself. 

Heat rushed to your face. You wanted to turn your head away once more, but Eddie still had a hold of your jaw. 

When he felt certain you wouldn’t look away, he let go of your face. Then he returned his curious hands to your clothed chest, squeezing and running his fingers over your, now very hard, nipples. And once again you were a whimpering mess underneath him. 

His lips went back to trailing openmouthed kisses along your collarbone. His hungry mouth traveled downward, leaving marks along the way. But it wasn’t enough. 

You pushed him away from you. Eddie was sure you were gonna ask him to stop. Instead, you sat up slightly, your hands disappearing behind your back to unclasp your bra. It quickly joined your shirt on the floor. 

Eddie was grinning like an idiot. His eyes eating up the sight of you, Y/N Y/L/N, splayed out on his bed topless. Your chest heaving, causing your tits to move in a way he could only describe as deeply erotic. If he hadn’t been nursing a hard-on before, he sure was now. 

He would be lying if he’d said he hadn’t thought about you like this. When you’d leaned forward to grab something and your shirt had slipped down, he’d had to stop himself from reaching out and cupping your breasts. Or when you licked the paper while rolling a joint, and his mind wandered to what it would be like having that tongue doing the same thing elsewhere. Or when he woke up in the middle of the night, craving a release after you’d haunted his dreams. 

But having you here, in front of him, topped anything his imagination had been able to cook up. He felt your hips bucking underneath him, craving friction just as much as he did. However, before he could get to that, he had another task at hand. 

He took your left nipple in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to play with it. He pinched the other one between his fingers. 

“E-Eddie,” you moaned, as you felt your slick slowly stain the fabric between your thighs. You clenched around nothing. “Eddie.” 

You didn’t want him to stop what he was doing, but you needed some friction, anything. He was taken aback when you shoved him off of you, then straddled him. You quickly began grinding your hips against his, moaning over the sudden relief. 

“So greedy,” he said through a grunt. 

“Shut up, Munson.” 

If he’d thought you were hot earlier, it was nothing against the way you looked now–head rolled back, skirt bunched up around your hips, hands gripping his chest for support as you dry hump the bulge in his jeans. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. 

Eddie was sad that your tit was no longer in his mouth. However, the way you grinded against him didn’t have him feeling blue for long. And seeing you take what you wanted was insanely attractive. 

“Eds?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I need you to do something,” you said, still working your hips at a steady pace. 

“I was doing something when you interrupted me,” he smirked. All you did was whine in response, and the smug look was wiped off his face. “Alright, sweetheart.” 

Eddie lifted you off of him and placed you back on the bed. He was perched between your legs, once again devouring the sight of you–the way your boobs were drooping to the sides, forced down by gravity. And the way your nipples were stiff, one of them glistening with his saliva.

He studied your face, loving the way your lips were swollen from having battled with his own, and loving that he now knew what those lips tasted like. 

His hands grabbed the waistband of your skirt. “Mind if I take this off?” 

You shook your head and raised your hips, causing Eddie to smirk. 

The way he removed it was agonizingly slow, but he wanted to make sure he had time to scan every inch of your skin with his eyes. They moved down your legs–God, he never knew legs could be this attractive. 

But what caught Eddie’s attention in the end was the wet stain that had formed in your underwear. He ran a finger over it. You hummed in response, as your eyes fell shut–finally. 

Eddie made quick work of removing your underwear, and they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. You felt it was unfair that you were completely naked, while Eddie hadn’t shed a single article of clothing. 

“Eddie?”

“Yes, love?” (Aaron Warner who?)

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

A smirk grew on Eddie’s face. “Since you asked so nicely.” He removed his top in one swift motion. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie without his shirt on. You, Eddie and the other guys from the band had gone to Lovers Lake after your first gig together, and Gareth had pushed Eddie into the water. Which had been an awful idea since it was during early March. 

Eddie had gotten out of the water, soaked and freezing, wet bangs sticking to his forehead. He had taken off his drenched jacket, cursing Gareth under his breath for ruining his precious piece of leather. His shirt had quickly followed, and you had turned your burning face away from him, as he searched through the back of his van for a blanket. 

This time you didn’t turn away. Instead, you let your eyes travel over his pale skin. Your fingers traced the ink covering his chest, admiring the artwork. You made a mental note to ask him about them later. 

You were so consumed by the sight before you, that you hadn’t noticed when Eddie moved his hand to hover between your open legs. However, him swiping his thumb over your clit pulled you out of your trance as you let out a groan. 

Your hand, that had been tracing shapes on Eddie’s chest, grabbed onto his forearm. He looked up at you. “Do you want me to stop?” You hastily let go again. He could do anything, as long as he promised to keep touching you. Your head rapidly shook from side to side. 

He ran his fingers through your folds once more, spreading you slick over your aching bud. Eddie began tracing small circles over the bundle of nerves and your eyes fell shut. You let out sighs of pleasure, lightly moving your hips against him. 

Eddie leaned down and began placing kisses on your sternum, moving down and doing the same along your stomach. Before you knew it his head was between your thighs. He planted quick pecks on the inside of your thigh, then replaced his thumb with his lips. 

Eddie brushed the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, and you could feel Eddie’s lips quirking into a smirk. 

The way he worked his tongue over your cunt made you feel sorry for any guy that had ever gone down on you for thinking they’d done a good job. Because this felt so good and the moans leaving you were genuine, not forced like usually. 

When you didn’t think it could get any better, you felt one of Eddie’s fingers at your entrance, slowly pushing its way inside of you. 

“E-Eddie! Fuck-” you bit the back of your hand to stifle the sound. 

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart. No one can hear you. Let it out.” 

You removed your hand and at that exact moment Eddie curled his finger inside you. The sound you let out was heady–and quite intoxicating in Eddie's opinion. 

Your fingers found their way into Eddie’s curls, which he only took as encouragement. Eddie was sucking at your clit like his life depended on it, and it almost did, because he thought he was going to die if he didn’t get to hear you moan his name one more time. Eddie added another finger, and you didn’t need many seconds to begin grinding your hips against them. 

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. “Eddie, I’m close.”

“I know, I know.” He didn’t need you to tell him, he could feel the way your walls were clamping against his fingers. Eddie put even more effort in–he couldn’t wait to have you come undone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

And just like that you were cuming on Eddie Munson’s tongue, his fingers working magic inside of you, while Freddie Mercury was telling you to Get Down, Make Love. 

Eddie lifted his head from between your trembling legs, and removed his fingers before popping them in his mouth, savoring every last drop of you. 

As you were coming down from your high, your head fell to the side. That’s when the clock on Eddie’s nightstand caught your attention–5:44 pm. 

“Shit!” you exclaimed. “Eddie, we need to be at The Hideout in fifteen minutes.”

“What?” His eyes snapped to the clock. “Crap!”

Eddie threw his shirt back on, before diving onto the floor in search of your clothes. You got your bra and skirt tossed at you, then your panties followed. You hastily put them on, then joined Eddie in the search for your shirt. 

“I can’t find it!”

“Here, take this,” Eddie said and tossed you a shirt from his closet. 

You pulled it on, grinning slightly–it smelled like him. 

On the other side of the room, the sight of you in his shirt had Eddie fighting the urge to throw you back onto the bed and let tonight's gig figure itself out. But you came rushing past him and he was pulled from his reverie. 

“Eddie, you coming?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He looked at you reluctantly, afraid that the moment was over and that you were gonna sweep it under the rug and act as if it never happened. 

“We’re just taking a break, okay?” 

A smile split Eddie’s face, and he threw on his jacket before grabbing his keys. The two of you rushed out to Eddie’s van, making sure to not forget his guitar. 

You were almost at The Hideout when something struck you. “What are we gonna do about the song?” 

“The drunks can live without it, we were up to more important things.”

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

HELP A GIRL OUT PLEASE. I’M SOBBING. Okay, so I’m a Satanist so I do not believe in Ghosts. At all. And please excuse the cringey af video. It was for a cosplay lmao. Okay, like wtf is that thing passing my head in the top left corner? I have a slowed down video in the other video but it seems to be there for one frame and then pisses off. It’s not in any of the other videos I took that day. Also, my phone decided to spell ‘Zo’ out by itself today. Zo being another name for the Demon Zozo. Also, my dog barks at nothing. Any suggestions would great af. Maybe this video will make me believe in ghosts. Who the fuck knows. Convince me. EDIT: THE CAMERA I USED IS AN IPHONE 7. THE REASON THE QUALITY LOOKS SHOCKING IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO LET TUMBLR TURN THE VIDEO INTO A GIF FIRST. IT WAS ONLY A SMALL VIDEO.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

There’s a possibility

When Eddie died he took everything with him.

Your smile, your breath and even your heart. Even though you were here physically, you died with him that day.

Nightmares didn’t come and go in waves, they caved in on you like a tsunami, crushing you with its impact. Steve and Robin checked in on you daily at first, now they visit once a week. They knew there was nothing left but the empty shell of what used to be you. The flame that was Eddie kept you floating but his death had left you drowning.

“Y/N.” Robin spoke so calm her voice almost broke. “It’s been months since he died. You need to get up. We are so worried about you. Not just me and Steve.” Robin knelt by the chair you never moved from, holding your hand.

“Dustin asks about you every day without fail, he misses you.” Steve was sat on the edge of your bed staring over at you.

“Please go.” You managed without once looking at them. Those two words were the first thing they’d heard from you in months.

Steve and Robin shared a sympathetic look before standing to leave. “We will be back in a few days, okay?” Robin squeezed your hand as Steve kissed your head before draping a blanket over you.

You wish you had the energy to speak but you didn’t even see them leave or notice day turn into night. That was until you heard a soft tapping on your window. Excusing it for trees blowing in the wind you decided to try and sleep, knowing nightmares would take over but at least you would get to see Eddie in them.

Your eyes snapped open as the tapping became louder, almost three distinct knocks, followed by the faint calling of your name.

“It’s me, Y/N.” The voice said from the darkness outside. “It’s Eddie.”

You hadn’t cried in months after believing you had no tears left to cry, but the flood gates opened thinking your mind was deceiving you. How could your mind be so cruel? So you ignored it, plugging your ears as you shook your head, knees pulled tight to your chest.

Then you felt a hand at your knee but didn’t dare open your eyes. Your hands were moved from your ears and soon you heard the soft words flow from Eddie. “Princess. I’m back.”

Your eyes snap open expecting to see nothing. But instead, there was Eddie. Except he looked different. He was as pale as a ghost, eyes sunken in and a deep shade of gold. He smiled his normal shit eating grin at you but you noticed what looked like fangs poking at his bottom lip. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know what to say. The next thing you knew, his cold hand touching your face and you leaning into his touch.

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

I hope you all like this. I made it on iMovie on my phone so no, it’s not brilliant. But I love Good Omens with my heart and we must protect Michael Sheen at all costs. The song is Lewis Capaldi - Hold Me While You Wait. Please let me know what you think!

[hoe-for-skulduggery]

I hope you all like this. I made it on iMovie on my phone so no, it’s not brilliant. But I love Good Omens with my heart and we must protect Michael Sheen at all costs. The song is Lewis Capaldi - Hold Me While You Wait. Please let me know what you think!