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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

Text

Mine

Summary: You dress your boyfriend, Geto Suguru up as a nerd for Halloween party. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, marking, kissing, hickeys, Tiger-Skank (I hated her), PDA, suggestive, grinding, oral mentioned (F!receiving),college AU

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: Kinktober day Twenty: Nerd!Geto! I have a mighty need for Glasses! Mmm!!! 🥴

“Pllleeeeease!” You are flopping on your boyfriend's bed as he goes on his laptop. “Suguru, please!!”

He sighs, turning in his seat to look back at you. His hair is in a messy bun, black framed glasses on as he runs his tongue over his lip ring. “You realize we have a huge test next week, right?” His brow is cocked with faux annoyance, but he can't stop the smile that spreads on his lips as you bury your face in the sheets kicking your feet back and forth.

“Which is why we should go out!” you sit up as if you had a sudden epiphany. “We deserve to treat ourselves for all of our hard work.”

Suguru sighed, shaking, taking his glasses off to run his hands down his face. “How could I even say no to you?” he straightened dark hair, falling out of his bun, as his bangs swayed in his face. “But isn’t this party a costume party?” He looked around his room, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “All the stores are closed, and I have nothing I could wear. So I guess I’ll just go as your gothy boyfriend.” His words didn’t faze you as you beamed at him getting up or rushing to the closet.

“I have a perfect idea for a closet costume!” Amusement washed over your boyfriend’s features as you pulled out a long, white-sleeved shirt and some dress pants.

“Let go put my contacts in, then I’ll let you work your magic.” Before he could even take a step, you grabbed his wrist, shaking your head as you placed his glasses back in his hand.

“For this costume, you’re going to need your glasses.”

Thirty minutes later, Gojo opened the door to his apartment. He was wearing a white toga with a matching gold leaf crown. “Holy fuck.” He gawked down at you before his cerulean eyes focused on your boyfriend. “I didn’t think you could get him to come! Do you know how much you’re begging I did?” Suguru rolled his eyes, placing his hand on Satoru’s face and pushing him back enough to allow you both entry into the house.

“What can I say!” you adjusted your tight-fitted cheerleading outfit. “I guess I’m just more convincing than you.”

Satoru barked out a laugh. “Apparently! Suguru, why didn't you agree to come when I asked you earlier today?” His best friend sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Because I’m doing this to make my girl happy.” His tone was short as he stepped further into the house that was booming with music and laughter.

“Oh, you didn't want to make me happy?!”

“Nope, making you happy isn't my top priority.”

“That’s not what you said last nig—nnmh!” a throw pillow was suddenly launched at Satoru silencing him. You grinned before grabbing Suguru’s arm as he shot him a glare. “Okay~ I may have lost it for a second by whatever! Drinks are in the kitchen! I'll meet up with you guys later. I'm gonna make a round around to check on everyone else.”

You waved him off before looking up at your boyfriend. He was dressed in his white shirt with a red necktie, black pants, and some suspenders you found. All that, combined with his glasses, made the perfect stereotypical nerd costume. Even with everything on, Suguru still looked like a model.

Together, you both looked hot.

“Hey, I’m going to go grab us some drinks. Do you want to go find the others?” Suguru asked, close to your ear.

You shook your head, pushing him towards the living room where you were certain your friends would be. “I dragged you here!” you shouted over the booking bass. “I'll go get the drinks, you go relax!” He had no choice as you ran to the kitchen, shimmering pom-poms in hand.

You had meant it when you told him you both deserved some time off. He’s been working so hard for his midterms. He was so close to passing all his classes, getting him closer to his degree in psychology. But he was also burning the candle at both ends. There was nothing wrong with studying and working hard, but you knew he needed a break when he'd pulled two all-nighters in one week. That's why you and your friends worked hard to get him to come out. After this party, where he could get some well-deserved rest, he could get back to his studying.

Tonight was all about relaxation!

You felt a certain sense of pride and excitement at the thought of seeing Suguru relaxing on the couch. Seeing his face relax and watching him laugh fueled your steps as you passed through the crowded halls until you reached the living room. You didn't find him relaxing on the couch, losing himself in the good company and music. Your boyfriend was sitting on the couch with a girl wearing literal lingerie and a tiger-ear headband.

She was running her finger down his chest, a drunken horny look in her eyes as she rubbed her fingers over the buttons seductively. “So handsome~ why don't we go upstairs, and you can show me how book-smart you are when it comes to using your cock.” The cans fell out of your hands as you watched Suguru pull away from her. You were annoyed by her forwardness; you felt a numb burning in your chest as she reached for him again.

“Look, I have a girlfriend. So, please stop touching me. I’m not at all interested in you.”

“Ph, you do?” Tiger-Skank asked, looking around with an attitude. “Why is she? If she is your girlfriend, she should have known better than to bring a sexy snack like you here. If I were your girlfriend, I would make sure everyone here knew you were taken!”

Suguru was about to open his mouth to tell her off when you suddenly stood before them, hands on your hips as you glared down at her. “Excuse me, that’s my spot.” You motioned to the couch with your chin.

Tiger-Skank scoffed, her painted face contorted with annoyance. “I was here first.” You glared at her before straddling Suguru’s hips.

“No, I was.”

Suguru jolted as you grabbed him by the toe, forcing your red-painted lips on his in a kiss that left him gasping in surprise. But that surprise quickly melted as his hands found your hips, holding onto them as his eyes fluttered shut. He kisses you back eagerly, liking this blunt display of affection. The kiss is hard, primal, and full of dominance. You wanted the bitch next to you to know that Geto Suguru was, in fact, your boyfriend, and he was all yours.

You broke the kiss, panting softly against his lips as Suguru looked up at you through his thick lashes. The lilac hue of his eyes leaves you feeling tingles all over your body. You want to laugh to tell him you love him, but you can still smell the cheap perfume resonating from the spot next to you. With a glare, you turn your head, finding Tiger-Skank sitting there, arms crossed over her chest.

“That doesn't prove anything! You just want him for yourself!”

The laugh that escapes you leaves Suguru feeling almost sorry for the dumbass sitting next to him. “Doesn't prove anything?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you reached your hand around Suguru’s back. “Did you hear that, babe? I guess I need to prove you are mine.” you pressed your lips all over his face, leaving red kiss marks all over him. “Mine~” you snarl before fisting his soft hand in your hand, forcing it to the side.

“Nngh,” Suguru grunts, eyes clamping shut as she shivers as his sensitive scalp has him humbucking up against you. “Fuck.”

“You’re mine.” your lips trail over his neck. “All mine, Geot Suguru.” Your seal your lips around his neck, sucking on it, nibbling at it, only pulling away when he groans. But as fast as you pull off of him, you're back on him, leaving another hickey and then another all down his neck, marking him up without a care in the world.

Around this same time, you hear a frustrated groan, and the sofa shifts with the absence of weight. But does that stop you? No. You keep kissing him and marking him up entirely on one side of his neck before you yank his head to the other side and give it the same treatment.

Jealousy that’s so green and full of anger drives you to mark your boyfriend up with kisses the same shade of red as your passion and adoration for him. Something about seeing some other woman flirting with him, touching him, sets you off. Usually, you weren’t a jealous person. But her blatant disrespect for him, but when he asked her to stop and go away, have you willing to do anything to prove the fucking point that he belongs to you, and you belong to him.

“P-Princess—” Suguru groans, drawing you out of your trance. “Y-You might wanna stop.”

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his neck. “Hm?” you question, not fully able to form complete words as you unknowingly grind your hips down against his erection.

“I said you might want to stop.” You get a chance to look at your boyfriend through the hazy need that overtaken your body. He’s panting, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes dart around the room. “Because if one more bastard looks at you, I might fuck you right here on the couch.” His voice’s dark and thick with need as he leans close to your ear. “As much as I want them to know you’re mine, I don't want them seeing or hearing those pretty sounds you make.”

“S-Sugu—nngh!” he bites down on your neck before rising off the couch, carrying you out of the room. “What are you doing?!”

“You marked me up.” He growled, heading up the stairs to the second floor. It was painfully apparent that you had marked him up. He was smeared with kiss marks, hickeys, and bite imprints. You winced, feeling a little bit bad, but the pleasure and satisfaction made up for that. “So I think it’s only fair that I do the same to you.”

He kicked in a door to one of the many rooms in Satoru's house, throwing you on the bed. “Oooh yeah, Mr. Nerd? How are you gonna mark me up?” Suguru yanked his tie off, stretching it out between his hands before he grabbed your wrists, tying them together.

“I think I’m gonna mark up that pussy of yours.” He unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt as he slowly sank to his knees at the foot of the bed. “So do me a favor and don't,” your panties were yanked to the side, “hold.” Suguru dipped his head between your thighs, kissing and nipping at them. “Back your screams.” you yelped as his tongue found you clit with ease making you scream at the top of your lungs.

This was precisely what Suguru needed.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918 @draculemon

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

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anaconamor · 1 year ago

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my angel - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: being due to a gala in less than an hour, jude finds out a tiny secret you had, faced with the options of not going or having to cope with an angel that stood beside him all nigh...

wc: 1.2k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: small fic/ blurb because i could not focus on the other one i was writing... let me know if you'd like a part two bc I have a request that fits perfectly with this one :PPP like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

“baby? you in here? we have to leave soon,” you could hear jude approach the room as you continued to stare at yourself in the mirror. you’d gone out with the girls earlier that day, having breakfast and sharing laughs then went shopping to get new clothes for the year. along with some other products you needed, with that purchase, you had the chance to stop by a lingerie store. you rarely bought the flimsy and intimate fabrics, but when you did, it was always an experience.

jude’s never seen you in lingerie, just your undergarments when you changed or took off your clothes. when you bought lingerie you kept it hidden and wore it for yourself to feel confident and sexy, you had many sets but the one you wore right now had by far become your favorite. it felt soft and silky, rich and smooth against your skin, not like other fabrics that irritated or felt tight on you.

it hugged your figure perfectly, pushing your boobs and making them sit pretty in the lacy padded flowery bra, the thong accentuating your hips and waist and giving you the hourglass figure. the thigh lace garters were attached to your waist belt, a thin band going around you, and small suspenders attached to each side. in some way it had elongated your legs, giving you the appearance to look taller, it could also be the heels.

you could hear jude approach the room way closer, giving you no time to react or change when he walked in. you bit the inside of your bottom lip, fingers pinching the nail beds in your other hand nervous and anxiously, shifting your weight from one foot to another as he stood by the doorway watching you. jude wore a suit, a fitted suit that embraced the built figure that he had grown over the few months, veins decorating his hands as they clenched tightly.

he slowly approached, his shoes tapping against the tiled floor, fingers coming to his chin as his eyes roamed your almost exposed figure. he had stepped behind you, now looking at your front through the mirror, your eyes meeting full of daze and lust. jude being the public figure he was had been invited to attend a gala, taking you along as his plus one for the evening. the white gown you’d be wearing for the evening hung in the closet, but for now, you wanted to wear this underneath.

“jesus y/n…” jude croaked, his eyes disconnecting from you as he fully took you in. you could feel his eyes leave traces behind, as they wandered from the lacy flowery bra to your thighs clenched together. “what do you think?” you say lowly afraid of your voice and becoming intimidated by his daze on you.

“what do i think?” jude took a silencing pause, “you look absolutely beautiful y/n… like an angel, my angel…” jude replied stepping closer to you as he still towered over you, his fingers tracing from your shoulders down to your hips slowly, goosebumps trailing as he touched. his left hand wrapped your front around your waist, jude took your hair and placed it to the side gently, kissing your shoulder softly and peppering kisses to your neck, nibbling your sweet spot, all the places he had access to.

his heart fluttered hearing you giggle loudly, your hand placed on top of his, “when did you get this? hm?” he asked glancing up to see you cheekily smiling. “today when i went out with the girls! i got it to match with my dress.”

suddenly jude felt like not going, wanting to stay in to appreciate the goddess he had in front of him in all white. it came as a shock to him when he walked in, he’d never seen you in such intimate loungewear that he couldn't process what was happening. he fell in love all over again, wanting to caress the skin and body you had, appreciating what was his. for the night and forever.

“did you get this set only? or other ones as well?”

“i got this one only because my old one was just not giving for me,” you scrunched your nose in disappointment, thinking of the old ivory set that was itchy and rough. “hold on, old one?” jude asked his voice spiking up as it came to a surprise. how many sets did you have? and why were they hidden for so long? he asked himself.

“yes, i have quite a lot in various colors, themes, and designs…” you admit shyly face growing hot, flushing as you have exposed a small secret to your boyfriend. jude couldn't believe that he was hearing, struggling to comprehend the fact you had lingerie all this time, it wasn’t a bad thing, quite frankly the opposite. his innocent girl wasn't so shy. if this was just one of the sets, he could picture the other ones you had. “yeah, we’re not going tonight.”

“jude what? we have to,” you laugh as he slowly turns you around, now chest to chest. although it was impossible, you could feel his heart beat faster as he stared down at you. you looked angelic as he previously said, your eyes giving the impression of a cat eye by the false lashes, lips full and plump by your red lipstick, and cheek contoured by the blush to highlight the details of your face.

beautiful was one of the words jude thought, others he couldn't fully say by being mesmerized by you.

you let his hand wander down to your bum, feeling as he gave it a soft squeeze, fitting perfectly in his palm. “how do you expect me to go out knowing you’re wearing this underneath?” jude asked, kissing the bridge of your nose. “it’s going to drive me mad, angel. i could take you here right now and show you what i think of this,” he said deeply referring to the lingerie.

“but you won’t because we have a place to be at in less than an hour,” you say teasingly, your thumb tracing his facial features, jude relaxing to your touch on him. “you’ll just have to let it drive you mad because we're not going to do a single thing until were back here,” you state firmly, making jude smirk. your hands traveled from his muscles down to his chest to fix the tie that was loose, jude watching your every move.

“you are going have to deal with it, the things you wanna do, hear, all that for the whole night. picture it, me and you, me wearing this while you make me cum? or maybe i am? to give my golden boy his reward?” you tippy-toed whispering into his ear, kissing the lobe as he held your waist firmly, thumbs stroking your sides.

“maybe you just won't be able to resist it, thinking how i am wearing this over my dress. maybe taking me into a restroom, our car, somewhere hidden or private to satisfy that need… either way, you’ll have to be patient because we’re waiting to come back home to do all that, right?” you continued watching as jude struggled to have coherent words.

“yeah, we will see about that, angel…”

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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captain-hawks · 5 months ago

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kita and dark red🤞🏼

shinsuke kita x reader

c: yakuza!kita, arranged marriage

In the months following your whirlwind betrothal to the Inarizaki clan’s kumicho, Shinsuke Kita, (at the behest of your scheming father) you’ve made little to no headway in figuring out much of anything about the calm, stoic man that’s soon to be your husband.

His interactions with you have been formal and brief, at best, and much to your surprise, you were even provided your own private quarters upon your arrival. He’s not so much as set foot past the boundary of the large wooden door that closes off your room, nor has he requested your presence in his bed.

And it’s this relentless air of mystery and disinterest that leaves you shifting awkwardly atop the countertop now, all too aware of the fact that it’s well past midnight and you’re sitting in his kitchen wearing nothing but a faded t-shirt, a spoonful of dry cereal suspended midair between the bowl and your lips.

You accompanied Kita to a formal dinner hours earlier—and were embarrassed to find how frustrated you became as the night went on and nearly every other man in attendance snuck a glance at the sight of you in the dress the oyabun himself had picked out for you. (Well, he’d had it delivered to your quarters by someone else.)

A dress that Kita himself said not a single word about, his gaze hardly bothering to find you for the entirety of the evening.

The white marble is cold against the back of your thighs as Kita approaches you now, still donning his slacks and a white button down shirt, though he’s since removed his tie and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

Eyes drifting from the bowl to your face, a small, rare smile that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen makes its way across his lips.

“Do ya often pillage the cabinets while everyone else is sleepin’?” he asks, and you swear you hear a hint of teasing in his tone, his voice slightly raspy in the late hour.

“Am I not allowed?”

His eyes shine in the illumination of the pale yellow light hanging above the sink.

“Nah, ya certainly are. But one of the boys could bring it to yer room for ya.”

One of his hands comes to rest atop the counter, a respectful distance from your bare thigh, but you’re exceedingly aware of every centimeter of space all the same as warmth rapidly floods your gut.

“Maybe I like sitting up here and stuffing my face,” you counter with a playful shrug, just because you can.

He tilts his head to the side, his steady gaze briefly flicking over your form before pointedly returning to your face.

“Hm,” is the only response he deigns to offer you, eyes not leaving yours as he reaches into the bowl and takes a piece of the cereal, placing it in his mouth.

He’s quiet for a moment as he chews, and you make no effort to hide the way you watch his throat bob when he swallows.

Slowly, he reaches out again, this time toward your face, and your heart slams against your ribcage as his hand—with a touch that’s far gentler than you ever could have imagined—cups the curve of your jaw.

“I like this color,” he comments, pressing his thumb against the dark red coating that you’ve yet to wipe from your mouth.

You blink, throat going dry as your toes curl, bare heels pressed firmly against the cabinet beneath you.

He drags his thumb all the way across your bottom lip, and you can feel your lipstick smudge against your cheek as he swipes the digit well past the corner of your mouth in one fluid motion.

“It suits ya,” he murmurs softly, eyes drifting back to yours as he briefly runs his teeth over the tip of his thumb, the skin there now stained red as well. “Sleep well.”

You stay seated atop the counter long after the sound of the stairs creaking beneath his footsteps fades to silence.

#shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #yakuza!kita #haikyuu #dee writes #rambling: s. kita

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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i literally have no idea what this is, or where it came from but here's a thing:

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,043 | rated: M (will be E in next part)

Eddie Munson was not Steve’s bi awakening, okay? He wasn’t.

He just happened to be standing in the middle of Family Video dressed like his bi awakening (and it didn’t help that he already had an embarrassingly huge crush on the guy).

Steve had come out of the back none the wiser to what he was about to see, glancing up from the tape he was carrying for someone who’d called earlier. His eyes met big, clunky, worn-in cowboy boots, long lean legs (and very nice ass–damn, they’ve got one of those stupid bandanas in their back pocket too) in classic Levis so tight they looked like they were painted on, the back of leather jacket (--hold on), and the back of a head of long, wild-looking, sun-kissed, yet still dark hair.

After his seconds-long oogling, Robin, who was chatting with Bon Jovi’s twin at the counter, glances behind him at Steve.

Bon Jovi tries to turn and look back without taking himself off the counter, but when that insane hair of his gets in the way, he shoves up off the counter and spins on one heel.

“Munson? Where the hell’ve you been?” Steve thanks whatever it is up there that the surprise of seeing Eddie again temporarily suspends his frazzled ‘hothothothothot’ thoughts about his friend enough to respond normally.

“Damn, Stevie, been gone all summer and all I get is a ‘The hell’ve you been’?”

“Of course, asshole, you’ve been gone All. Summer.” Steve says, finally getting to the counter himself and dropping the tape on it. He scoops Eddie up in a tight hug, one long won from their month of recovery post-Vecna.

Everything went fine, Vecna was dead, the upside-down sealed away, but they hadn’t all left unscathed. Specifically Steve and Eddie, both of whom ended their spring break from hell nursing bat wounds, and closer than ever before.

Then, after finally graduating, being hailed a hero for “saving” Max and Dustin from the real killer (thank you, suspicious government people), Eddie was hauled out of Hawkins by his Uncle, the former of whom got just enough time for a quick ‘Gotta go, Wayne wants me helping out at the farm this summer,’ before he was gone.

“I told you I would be, Harrington,” Eddie says once Steve sets him back down on his own two feet.

“So what happened? Where’ve you really been?”

Eddie raises a brow, “At the farm. Like I said.”

“Okay, well, excuse me for thinking it may have been the same 'farm' my parents said my childhood dog was sent off to.”

“You think my Uncle was gonna take me upstate to shoot me dead?”

“Obviously not, dumbass, but what other goddamn reason would you, Eddie Munson, have to be on a farm. Like with cows and stuff?”

“Though the sun did you some favors,” Robin cuts back in.

And isn’t that the truth. Up close now (and letting himself look), Steve could see how Eddie’s normally dark hair and pale complexion were now sun-kissed and so well be-freckled that it sent his stomach for another rollercoaster ride.

“Yeah, Munson, you planning on keeping the blond around?” Steve teases, picking up a strand of sun-lightened hair off Eddie’s shoulder and giving it a short tug.

“I don’t know, I’m not really used to how light…”

Whatever Eddie says after that is completely drowned out by ringing in Steve’s ears because Eddie stretches an arm up to paw at the top of his head and he’s wearing a crop top.

He’s wearing a goddamn crop top under his jacket, some band tee that looks like he’d hacked off himself..and are those abs?? God damn he is so fine. It’s not fucking fair. Who does he think he is running around like Steve’s own personal wet dre–

“Holy shit.”

He couldn’t help it. The words just fell out of his mouth.

“H-holy shit, you’ve got abs, Eddie!”

‘Thank you, Robin.’ Steve thinks at her absently since his brain is completely preoccupied..

“Wha–? Oh! Yeah! Check me out, huh?!” Eddie grins wide, lifting his shirt just a bit more to show off the toned expanse of stomach.

Steve’s mouth goes bone dry.

“And that’s not all,” Eddie says. He drops his shirt and shucks the jacket off his shoulders.

His very well sculpted shoulders.

And arms.

And oh god those hands. Steve could hear the soft scrapes of rough callouses against the leather when Eddie threw the garment onto the counter beside him and his only thought was about how they might feel against his skin..

Still beaming, Eddie flexes one, then both arms, his biceps bunching under more tanned skin. “I got a lot of ‘lifting heavy things and putting them back down again’ in over the summer.” he continues, “I’m probably stronger than you now, Harrington.”

“Ha haha, right..yeah. Robin, can you excuse us for a second?”

Steve doesn’t wait for her response before he grabs Eddie around one of those absolutely delicious biceps and hauls him through the store and out the back door.

He lets a grinning Eddie go as soon as they’re through the back door, taking a couple steps away towards the woods behind their building, and trying to calm down with measured breaths.

When he does turn around, Eddie’s stood away from the door, one hip cocked out and his arms crossed across his chest.

The grin on his face has melted down into a smirk though, and the look in his eyes is less teasing and more cautious.

Steve steps back up close to the other man, and literally starts to circle him like a shark. Scanning his eyes up and down Eddie’s body as he does.

“What’s goin’ on Stevie? Looking for some style tips?” he jokes.

Steve doesn’t answer, and starts his second cycle around his friend.

“You know, maybe get rid of some of those polos?” Eddie sounds just a bit more unsure this time.

Steve’s behind Eddie’s right shoulder when he speaks again. “You think you can barge back in after all this time, looking like that,” Steve comes around to stand in front of Eddie again, “And not expect me to react?”

Eddie grins wickedly again, and steps back at the same time Steve steps forward.

“Expect me to not want to devour you whole?”

“You expect me to want that, big boy?” Eddie says as he’s pressed between Steve and the closed back door.

Steve rears back immediately, “Shit, Eddie, I’m sor–”

“‘Cause I do.” Eddie grabs hold of Steve and spins them around, pressing the younger man back against the door instead. “Ohhh boy, do I want that.”

Steve groans as Eddie slots their hips together, “You really are a big boy, aren’t you sunshine?”

“The things I’m gonna do to you..” Steve growls out, Eddie’s jaw snapping open with his words.

They’re both startled away from the back door when Robin bangs on it, “You’ve got five minutes to get back in here before I drag you back in! It’s Friday and we’re about to get busy!” she yells through the door.

He hears her converse squeak on the tile inside the door as she heads back to the front, then chances a look at Eddie.

He looks as red as Steve feels, from the bit of his face he can see from behind the hair he holds over it.

“Eddie–”

“It’s cool, Harrington,” he wheezes out a dry laugh, glancing over at him, “Better get in for the rush before Robin comes back.

He reaches for the handle again, but is stopped short by a hand on his wrist.

“Listen, Eddie.” Steve says, giving the other man’s arm a soft tug to get him to turn around. “I may have gotten a little…over enthusiastic…”

Eddie’s face scrunches up in a weird way.

“No! Not in a bad way, unless you weren’t as into it as I was–doesn’t matter! Point is, I may have gone a little crazy, but I wasn’t faking it.”

“I don’t think guys can fake it, Steve-o.” Eddie jokes softly, a small smile on his face.

Steve chuckles just as soft, “Shut up man, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I think you do.”

“I dunno Steve," Eddie shrugs sarcastically, "You’re quite an enigma.”

“Okay, fine, here’s it spelled out for you: I am super into you.” Steve puts up a finger to stop whatever it is Eddie was about to say, “Hold on– I am bisexual, have been for a while and would like to try this..with you. If you want.”

“You gotta be more specific on what ‘this’ is, sunshine.” Eddie steps close to him once again.

Steve smirks, walking Eddie backward to the door again with both hands on his waist. Once he’s got him pressed back against the warm metal, he scoops the hair away from Eddie’s ear and holds it out of the way with a hand on the back of his neck.

He leans in, whispering right into Eddie’s ear. “I want to take you apart, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and Steve can feel the man’s heart hammering against his own chest.

“I want to suck you down, eat you out, and fuck you into next Tuesday.” He states, nipping on his earlobe for good measure before pulling back.

Steve takes in Eddie’s flushed face, his eyes blown out they’re almost completely black, his chest heaving.

“I’d also like to totally romance you and date the fuck out of you, but…” he shrugs, grinning as Eddie smacks his chest lightly with a laugh of his own.

“I’m serious though, Eddie. I want this.”

Eddie’s smile falls slightly. “You sure about the whole dating thing, Harrington? You know you can’t date me for real..like in public and shit.”

Steve shrugs, “I know, but… I don’t think I’d survive something casual with you, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a breath like he’d been punched.

He takes back in a deep breath, then pulls Steve flush to him again.

“I think that sounds amend—-”

Eddie’s forehead smashes into Steve’s nose when Robin shoves the door open behind Eddie.

“Damn! I knew the door was a bad idea.” Steve says, his voice coming out nasally from where he’s pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Time’s up, Dingus, get your fruity butt inside.”

Eddie chuckles after her, leading Steve inside. “You shouldn’t tip your head back, lean forward and let it drain out.”

“Ugh, you sure? I’ll get blood all over me,”

“I’m sure, sweetheart, I’ve had a few bloody noses in my time.”

“Here,” Robin says once they reach the counter.

Steve takes the offered tissues, and soaks up the small trickle of blood.

“You still wanna date me if my nose is crooked?” he asks Eddie, who’s (sadly) shrugging his coat back on.

He pretends to think for a moment. “Sorry Stevie, that’s a dealbreaker. Even if it was my forehead what done it.”

“Ugh you’re such a dweeb, I don’t know what you see in him, Steve.”

“He’s hot, okay? And he’s still hot even after he rejected me just now.” Steve states matter-of-factly while shoving a wad of tissue into the one nostril still bleeding.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Very.”

“No, you’re gross. You guys are both gross.”

“Oh Birdie, you should've heard the things he was saying to me outside; all ‘Ooh Eddie, your muscles are so big and so is your hair and also your di—’”

“OKAY! That’s enough of that!” Steve cuts him off, pushing the still grinning Eddie toward the door, then, a softer: “Yours or mine after I’m off?” once they’re at the door.

“Definitely yours, unless you want Wayne to be privy to our shenanigans.”

“Yeah, that’s a no. Also, shenanigans? Really? You’re a super dweeb.” Steve smirks, pushing his boyfr— frien— Eddie out the front door. “I’m off at four, see you at five?”

Eddie fumbles backward over the curb but manages to catch himself, “It’s a date, Steve.”

He watches Eddie climb up into his van, and follows its path down the road and out of sight with a dreamy sigh.

“You still have tissues in your nose, Dingus.”

part 2/2 here | and on AO3!

definitely inspired by this post from @sparrowtapes

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #st #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington having a crush on bon jovi is canon okay?#noelle writes

1K notes · View notes

kaylopolis · 7 months ago

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Eight

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest, and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, I give you my favorite chapter :)

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Eight - The Headliner

Content Warning: Obsession, Blood, Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

Everything hurt.

Was that music?

You blinked. Hard. Forcing the world into view. The shapes were fuzzy until they formed the ceiling of a canopy bed.

You vaguely registered Nat King Cole’s “Too Young” playing from the radio on the side table.

God, everything hurt. Did you already mention that?

With limbs of concrete, you attempted to sit up, but a burning pain shot through your core making the world blur into darkness once again.

You couldn’t have been out long; “Too Young” had entered its final stanza when you came to. Again, you were met with the red of the bed’s canopy top.

🎶And yet we're not too young to know🎶

Little movements this time. You turned your head, noting the red silk sheets beneath you. Okay, now the fingers and toes - good they were still intact. The legs? Both still present and working. Arms? Yeah, them too. So was it just your torso? You rolled up, but were just met with more pain.

Okay, let’s try rolling to the side. You rolled onto your shoulder and slowly pushed yourself into a seated position. The effort and pain made you see stars, but at least you hadn’t passed out.

Okay, where to begin. Instead of your cloak and leather gear, you found yourself in shorts and a white button-down shirt two sizes too big. The fabric was slightly askew, revealing the bandages crossing your chest underneath. You peeked down the shirt and followed the stained cotton to your belly button.

Fuck, Velvette practically gutted you from your right hip to your left chest.

Bitch.

🎶This love will last though years may go🎶

Your arms and legs had been washed, and your other wounds had healed into scars. A poultice soaked through the cotton wrapped around your feet. Whoever took care of your wound also addressed the blisters still plaguing your toes.

How nice.

Your silver hair had been braided into a long ponytail that reached your lower back. And the shirt you were wearing... Images of deep woods after a rainstorm swam in your vision as you breathed in the fabric - it felt almost familiar.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you wandered over to the glass doors leading to a balcony. Pentagram City waited twenty floors below. You held your arms around your body as you walked, afraid the stitches would burst and your insides would fall out. Shallow breaths only. Deep breaths hurt.

🎶And then some day they may recall🎶

It was late, City lights illuminated the night. On the balcony sat two chairs, a single table between them. It finally clicked where you were the exact moment the static prickled the back of your neck.

🎶We were not too young at all🎶

“Alastor…” you spun meeting the demon face to face, but the view took your breath away.

The Radio Demon stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his weight on one hip. He looked disheveled, his hair a ruffled mess, his monocle missing. His suit jacket was probably hanging in a closet somewhere, revealing a white button-down rolled to the elbows. No bow tie, suspenders hanging around his hips, and no shoes. For feet, he had… hooves.

It was the most skin you had ever seen from the demon and it felt oddly intimate. Maybe you should look away and give him some privacy but part of you didn’t want to stop looking. His shirt top was missing a few buttons, revealing his collarbone and upper part of his chest. From what you could tell he was very… defined.

His arms were stronger than expected, with a layer of muscle that was obvious in the low light. Scars, grey and faded, criss crossed his forearms like battle wounds. His arms ended in a shade of black much like your own - but his hands.

Alastor wasn’t wearing gloves.

That got the butterflies stirring in your belly. Why did that make you so excited?

The Overlord stared at you with a soft smile on his face but a gaze so intense it could knock you over where you stood. You felt trapped. You felt possessed. And you liked it.

“What happened to ‘Mr. Alastor’?” He purred.

You pulled your arms in close, trying to hide the shiver his voice sent down your spine. It was deeper than you remembered.

Keep your guard up, Thestral, be prepared for anything.

“I think we’re past formalities, don’t you?” You gestured to the clothing. “Didn’t know you even owned a pair of shorts. Didn’t take you for the sort.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumble from his chest. “I saved your life, and your first concern is my wardrobe?”

You fell silent. He took that as a sign to change the subject.

“Come, I just finished dinner.”

You stifled a gasp as Alastor turned on his heels. A tail, the Radio Demon had a tail. The black tuft of hair sat at the crest of his hips, a red undercoat where a white tail deer’s white stripe should be.

“You have a tail,” you whispered, desperately trying to hide the smile fighting to breakthrough.

Be prepared for anything.... You snorted into your palm. Anything but that!

Alastor froze, his tail shooting up, ramrod straight. He tipped his head back, his eyes nonchalantly finding yours. “I am a dear demon, darling.”

Yeah, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world! Is that why he always wore the jacket, to hide his tail? Did he not like others knowing or just assumed that they assumed? God, you didn’t know why he would be ashamed of it, it was adorable!

The demon scoffed before disappearing, you following after him, trying your best not to flat-out stare at the thing the entire time you walked. Alastor led you down a hallway and into a kitchen where a pot was steaming on the stove. Pulling a chair out for you, he sat you on the corner to himself. Silently, you waited for him to ladle a bowl of food.

Why did the silence feel so... weird?

“Be careful, darling, it’s still hot.” He sat in the chair next to you and just stared.

Your eyes locked on his, you tried searching them, tried to figure out what was happening in this moment, but your mind felt so… distracted by the image of him in an unbuttoned shirt.

“Eat.” He commanded.

And you obeyed.

“God, this is amazing.”

He smirked. “I assure you, he had nothing to do with it.” His shoulders relaxed when you ate another spoonful, finally allowing himself to join in with his own bowl. Alastor’s tail wiggled as if it was... happy? You reread the demon’s face - neutral disinterest. Hmmm… Interesting.

“What is this?”

“Jambalaya.”

“Ugh, I’m devastated I hadn’t discovered this sooner,” you smiled, taking another mouthful. Swallowing hurt, but in little amounts, it was manageable.

As the excitement of the dinner waned, a deep sadness began to settle into your heart. “Is Angel okay?” You practically whispered the question.

Alastor didn’t skip a beat, continuing to eat as he talked. “It took the spider a few days to get back on his feet, but he is doing well, thanks to you. Don’t fret, the Hotel has not been touched in your absence.”

You nodded, taking more small bites. “How long have I been out?”

Alastor pulled a newspaper from the Void and handed it to you. The headline read “Shadow Presumed Dead. V Tower To Be Rebuilt.” The date was a week later than you remembered, seven days - damn.

“I missed my headline.” Mimzy is going to be furious.

“Darling, you are the headline,” Alastor chuckled, his soup spoon collecting the bottom remnants of his bowl. He got up, taking yours as well as his despite it not being totally empty yet. He filled both to the brim and rejoined you at the table, his tail wagging away.

Page two had a huge photo of Velvette and Vox grieving and some article filled with bullshit designed to garner sympathy. The story, of course, pointed the blame on you as the aggressor - accurate. Yet no mention of Valentino and his cruel ways. Vox controlled the media, so it made sense.

Folding the newspaper and tucking it away, you started on your second bowl. “So, how long have you known?”

His tail froze, his half-lidded eyes finding your own. “That you’re the infamous masked Overlord or a Fallen Angel playing Human Sinner?”

Your lips parted in surprise.

“Darling, I had you picked the moment you stepped foot off the elevator at Carmine’s office.”

You clenched your jaw to prevent it from falling open. “How?”

He paused for a moment, not looking you in the face as he said, “Jasmine.”

What had the egg bois said to you before you walked into the elevator? They said you smelled like Jasmine.

“It’s…” you start but wait for the rest of the pieces to click into place.

“… your favorite tea.” Alastor finished for you.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Rosie might have mentioned it in passing.”

Of course, Rosie did. The Overlord hated it but only ever got it for you.

Oh my God, everything makes so much sense now! He served wine during your midnight meeting, a cabernet - your favorite - as opposed to his usual rye. He gave you the radio not because he cared about your sleep but because he needed an ally at the top of their game. The way he felt threatened by you even as a Hotelian and not an Overlord - why he always had his shadow following you. It explains his heightened irritation with Vox and the attention the media demon gave you. It explains the unprompted kidnapping to the bayou! He was going to confront you about it! Alastor knew from the fucking beginning because, of course, he fucking did.

That's why he's been so interested in you.

“The second mystery was solved as you bled to death all over my bed sheets.”

My bed sheets. My bed. His bed. Not a guest room bed but his room. His sheets. His pillows. His clothes.

Oh my God, you were in his clothes!

You felt a blush creep up your neck. “You…” You dropped your spoon with a clunk into the bowl as the realization hit you. “Did you see me naked!?”

Alastor laughed, his tail wagging yet again, “No. No. As soon as I got you here, I had Rolf summon Rosie. She let me help with the less… intimate parts of your injury before kicking me out. She cleaned you up and dressed you after.”

He didn't see your back. He didn't see your tattoo.

Oh, thank the stars for that woman. She was a gift from above. Heaven really fucked up on that one. Oh, Rosie. She was going to kill you the next time she saw you.

Wait…

“Rolf?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t think my shadow had a name?” He smirked his iconic lopsided grin.

You looked down at the darkness swirling about his feet, which snickered in response.

No, actually, you hadn’t really thought of it as something sentient enough to need one.

You turned back to the bowl, forcing yourself to eat more. You were full, but damn, was this good.

Having gone a week without food your stomach had shrunk - only enough room for three-quarters of a serving, but that didn’t stop Alastor from refilling your bowl again and again.

“I’ll summon Rosie in the morning. Have her bring by some of your things. Satan knows she will scold me for not summoning her sooner, but it is late.”

You checked the time on the stove. It was three in the morning.

“Why are you still awake?”

He looked away from you, “I don’t need sleep to function - correction, I need some, but the number is inconsequential compared to others.”

So his bed was barely used? If at all? Why was it so grand then? Maybe he used it for other… activities. What had Angel said the other day? The Radio Demon has never been seen with anyone. Rumor has it that he was a virgin - well, that was coming from Vox.

“I’m not a virgin,” Alastor’s words purred in your memory. Your mind drifted off to pondering the number of other people whom he had shared his bed with before you realized what you were doing.

Wait, what were you doing?

You were sitting half-dressed in Alastor’s clothes, sharing a home-cooked meal at his apartment.

ALONE.

What…

The Radio Demon brought his spoon to his mouth and licked it, sapping up the juices at the bottom of the bowl. His tongue was black and forked.

Your face heated with the ideas swimming in your mind of what that tongue could…

No!

You jumped to your feet abruptly, knocking the chair back and causing the plates to jump on the table.

A searing burn shot through your core causing you to bend over in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Alastor bent to meet your eyeline, his arms grasping your shoulders.

Butterflies and bubbles. Butterflies and bubbles. Butterflies and bubbles. You didn’t know what they meant anymore, and it terrified you.

“I just…” You stepped out of his grip, not daring to meet his gaze. “I can’t…” You turned and exited the kitchen searching for the door.

Alastor followed with hurried steps on your heels. You tried a few doors, but none of them were an exit.

Was it getting hot in here? It was definitely getting harder to breathe, but you didn’t know if that was from the injury or something else.

“Stop,” Alastor commanded, but you ignored him, turning down another hallway. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the slaps of your bare feet on hardwood.

Another door, this one open, leading to a small library.

Fuck, this place was a maze.

“Stop!” Alastor’s tone turned dark. As did the hallway. Were you starting to black out or was that his doing?

“I need to leave…” You breathed, now in a full panic.

Another turn… There, an elevator!

You sprinted for it, but Alastor wrapped his fingers around your wrist and spun you around. He gently backed you into the cement wall. Cupping your cheeks, he tilted your head, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I said stop.” His tone was soft. “You’re having a panic attack. You need to calm down, or you’re going to pass out. Just breathe, Thestral. Breathe.”

You did as he said, squeezing your eyes shut. Focusing on your inhales and exhales, you willed the beating of your heart to slow. You stood there and just breathed, trying to match his own pattern of breath before you.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

And you obeyed.

His irises were a deep crimson, his pupils blown wide in the low light. You felt some sort of veil lift between the two of you, his magic reaching out for your own. It caressed your form, willing your heart to slow, cooling the burn of your blood in your veins. Alastor was somehow calming you down using the connection you had formed between you.

God, why was he being so nice to you? The last time the two of you were alone together, he was actively hunting you.

“Why did you save me?” You ask, but it comes out as a whisper.

“We had a deal,” he answers too fast.

You didn’t buy it. There had to be more to this - more to why Alastor needed you and your power. Technically, your death benefitted him in the long run, didn't it? Killing you eliminated you as a rival, as an Overlord vying for souls, as a Sinner scheming for Charlie's power - whether he actually knew that or not, but Alastor wasn't stupid. He's had an entire week to think about every move you've made, every word you've said. He's had time to piece things together, enough to know that you weren't at the Hotel to be redeemed.

“Why did you save me?” You ask again, a bite in your voice, tears of frustration forming at the corner of your eyes.

He exhaled deeply, contemplating his words carefully, before finally leaning in and placing his forehead against yours.

“I had the pleasure of arriving just after you shattered the top floor of V Tower. The way you incinerated Valentino from within... By Satan, you were a vision…”

You went still.

“I was sure you were going to kill Velvette and Vox as well until Velvette pulled the Angelic blade and sunk it deep into your chest.” His breathing quickened, his voice deepening to a smokey edge.

“And that’s when I decided that she was not worthy of owning your death.” Alastor’s grip on your cheeks hardened till he had to let go. He placed one arm against the wall, his forearm and elbow flush with the cool concrete, entrapping you in place. His other found your chin, forefinger and thumb gently caressing your skin. “No one was.” He closed his eyes, guiding his nose to yours. The bridge of it rested against your own.

You couldn’t think anymore. All manner of logic left your brain the second Alastor's forehead found yours.

“If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips,” His thumb finds your bottom lip, and you gasp, drawing a growl deep from the demon’s chest.

Your lips parted even though you begged them not to. Even though you told them you didn’t want this. Even though they disobeyed and you found yourself okay with it anyway. Even though you wanted more…

His claw traced the curve of your lip oh-so-gently, before wrapping under your chin once more and pulling you closer.

He whispered onto your lips, “It was going to be me…”

DING-DONG!

“Ow!” You head-butted the Overlord as a loud chime deafened your left ear.

Tension broken, the demon rubbed his face as he leaned over and pushed a button on a com. “I told you two to go home!”

“Ay, listen here ya’ ol’ timey prick! We tried! Vaggie won’t let us until we have a fuckin’ update! You don’t have a fuckin’ phone for us to call, like a normal person. So, how the Hell do we know what’s goin’ on!?”

Angel?

“Give me that.” You heard what you thought was a shove before a different voice echoed through the machine. “Look Boss, Charlie’s been worried sick. She hasn’t been sleeping. She hasn’t been eating. She’s making the rest of us miserable. Angel took her out and got her drunk, and now she’s an emotional wreck. Just give us an update, and we’ll go home.”

“Husk?” You gasped.

“At least tell us she’s breathin’ ya’ strawberry pimp…”

You didn’t hear the rest of what Angel had to say as you slid out from where Alastor had cocooned you against the wall and headed for the elevator doors. You managed to hit the button before Alastor reappeared from a puddle of shadows, blocking the exit.

“What are you doing?”

“You are not going down there.” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at you with cold eyes.

“What!?” You practically screamed, a burn ran up your throat with the effort. Fuck it hurt.

Alastor didn’t elaborate further.

You scoffed. “It’s Husk and Angel, Alastor. They’re friends! If Velvette wanted me dead I doubt she’d send them to finish me off!”

“You are not going down there,” he repeated, cold malice slithered through his voice.

You stood for a moment, searching his hard eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

DING!

The doors slid open.

“Oh, yeah,” you drew yourself to your full height - well, almost full height. Your posture pulled on the stitches if you stretched too far. “Stop me, then.” Your gaze met his, hardening to steel.

A challenge, Radio Demon.

“You know what I am now, right? Go ahead Alastor, stop me.” Arms out to your sides, you waited for the demon to say something. But he was hard as stone.

You considered summoning blue flame to make your point, to remind him of how easily you had eviscerated Valentino, but you didn’t have to. The demon yielded. Stepping into the elevator, he waited for you to join.

The ride down was far longer than you expected. Or maybe it was the silence that drove you crazy. No elevator music? Or maybe you had ticked the Radio Demon off to the point he shut it all off. Either way, you didn’t care because when those doors opened and Husk and Angel finally laid their eyes upon you, a wave of relief flooded through you so strong you collapsed into their arms.

It hurt but you didn’t care.

“Holy, fuckin’ shit balls,” Angel breathed into your hair, making you giggle. His sclera were both white. No more black to be seen. His soul contract was over...

“Hey, kid,” Husk grabbed each of your hands, holding them in his paws.

“Hey, Husky,” you smiled back.

“You have a lotta fuckin’ explainin’ to do, Hair clip.” Angel crossed his arms, turning on his overprotective big brother mode. “And yous!” He took a step towards Alastor, finger pointed at his chest. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve keepin' her locked up this week! We was worried sick! Husk and I thought we watched her die on television, and the next thing we know, she’s locked up 'ere in your ivory tower! No calls! No updates! No nothin’! You…”

Wait, what did he say?

“Angel!” You stepped between the two of them, cutting off the spider demon’s protests. “Did you say television?”

“Yeah! Vox was filming the whole thang! Well, minus you burnin' Valentino to a crisp. He wanted your death broadcasted so he could claim the stakes of finally unmaskin' the infamous Overlord. Until, he…” He juts his finger back at Alastor. “Shut down the whole grid! All of Pentagram City was plunged into fuckin' darkness”

Your eyes find Alastor’s but again are met with a wall of cold steel.

The blood. Did they see?

No. His eyes seemed to say.

You pulled the collared shirt closer around you, buttoning an extra level to hide the gold-soaked cotton bandages underneath.

Rosie had taught you how to magick your blood, to have it appear red as opposed to its usual gold. You’d bleed red unless met with an Angelic blade, unless met with a blow promising death, unless you were too weak for the magic to hold.

Husk and Angel knew who you were but not what. Not yet. But Velvette and Vox? Velvette still has the blade, which means she saw the blood that stuck to it after she cut. Which meant the remainder of the Vees knew what you were - but not who.

They knew how to kill you.

Fuck.

“We searched for you for hours!” Angel hung his head, his voice cracking. “And he had you the whole fuckin’ time.”

“We thought you died,” Husk added, his eyes shooting daggers at Alastor.

We thought you died. Died. You never thought about death. Angels never did because Angels can’t die. Even when Velvette pulled the blade, you didn’t think she would kill you. Maime you horribly, yes, but not kill you because Angels don’t die.

But couldn’t they?

Your mind flashed back to the last extermination. The Overlords always disappeared in the hours before the Extermination. It was policy. Yes, souls came begging for protection - as they always did - but what protection could be offered? You couldn’t fight the Exorcists and even if you tried to hide the souls you owned, it just made for easier pickings when they eventually found you. Groups were targets.

So the Overlords “left.” Technically, human Sinners couldn’t leave the Pride Ring, so you found other ways to disappear.

You and Rosie always went to Mimzy’s. The three of you sat in the basement and played cards. Mimzy didn’t know who you were; she thought of you more so as Rosie’s adopted daughter before she eventually brought you on as her club’s piano player.

You were in the middle of a scandalous game of Belot when you felt a familiar tug behind your navel. Someone was using a card to summon you. And that someone was Carmilla. Orange and mint flooded your mouth - fear. Whatever was happening, it was bad.

You excused yourself to the restroom and slid out the back door.

Following the call, you found them at the edge of the Doomsday District. The Overlords kept their hiding places secret even from each other. You didn’t know where they were headed, and they didn’t know where you had come from. Your own hiding spot wasn’t in your territory, so why should theirs be?

Carmilla and Odette were in the middle of the plaza, Clara in a heap of blood and broken bones between them.

Exorcists flew in a flurry about your head. Sinners were screaming,

It was a tornado of blood and death. A massacre of the defenseless. You hadn’t seen anything like it since… well, the time of the Old Testament.

And a beheaded Exorcist lay ten feet from you...

Oh, Carmilla. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Please, I didn’t know who else to call…” Carmilla grabbed you by the collar of your cloak and dragged you down to the cement.

Odette sobbed, curling into her sister’s dying form.

“I can’t…” You breathed. The feeling of her soul fading was like a whisper against your skin. She was fading fast.

“Please!?” Carmilla begged.

“I… I…” There wasn’t anything you could…

And then Carmilla screamed.

She screamed your name.

Not Thestral.

Your name.

Your God-given name.

She grabbed your arm and ran it against the silver in her leggings. Golden liquid bubbled from your skin and dripped onto the pavement before she thrust the wound into her daughter’s mouth.

She knew. She knew you weren’t just any Angel.

Not like a low-level Exorcist. Low-level Exorcists can't heal the dying. Low-level Exorcists can't summon Holy Fire.

You weren't a low-level Exorcist. You were special.

The three of you held your breath as Clara’s wounds began to restitch themselves, as the blood finally stopped flowing.

There was a gasp as Clara’s eyes fluttered open. Carmilla collapsed into a heap of sobs, holding her daughter close and whispering in Spanish into her ear. Odette pulled you in, thanking you before joining her mother.

You were numb to the world until you got to your feet and locked eyes with a Sinner.

At some point, your hood had fallen down.

He had seen your face.

He had heard your name.

And so had about fifteen others now standing awestruck around you.

Fifteen people who had to die.

Fifteen innocent Sinners who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fifteen people you turned to ash.

“We didn’t tell the others what happened.” Angel’s voice brought you back to the room. “They think you were caught in the crossfire.”

“They don't know about Angel either,” Husk added.

Fuck.

Alastor must have seen the blood drain from your face because he took one step between you and the boys. “This meeting is over.”

“What?” The boys gawked.

He was right. The pain in your torso was throbbing, bringing a sting to your eyes.

You reached out, hesitating before fingering the edge of his rolled sleeve. The demon turned to you in surprise, a look of… we’ll you didn’t know what sprawled across his face. You waited for the flinch, for the smack, for the scowl, but, to your surprise, he didn’t shove you off. “Twenty more minutes?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please?”

Something in his steel gaze softened. He wanted to say no. He wanted to drag you back upstairs and lock you away - but he didn’t. Instead, he locked the front door, pulled a chair from the Void for you to sit, and trudged back into the elevator.

“Twenty, not a second more. Rolf will keep an eye on you.”

The shadow detached itself from Alastor’s form and wrapped itself around your torso. For once, you found its coldness soothing.

“Where are you going?”

DING! The doors shut.

“Okay,” Angel started, a pair of arms on your shoulders. “First question, who the Hell is Rolf?”

____________________________________________

It was like a bomb going off.

You hit the penthouse first, knowing the Overlords enjoyed a nightcap before turning in. Your weeks of spying had paid off and, luckily, Voxtek’s Angelic Security still wasn’t online.

Valentino, Velvette, and Vox were spread out along their giant three-piece couch, looking absolutely dumbfounded when you crashed through the window in a blaze of blue flames.

You went for the moth demon’s throat before he had a chance to react. Wrapping your claws around his neck, you jumped back into the night. You fell, summoning your wings to beat harder, garnering as much speed as possible.

When you hit the pavement, Val first, an explosion ripped through the Entertainment District, taking out half a block of storefronts, cars, and anyone caught in the crossfire.

You pulled a broken Valentino to his feet in a crater fifty feet deep. The pimp was barely breathing, his eyes unable to focus on anything. The demon was dead, and he knew it; unable to put up a fight, he just watched you and breathed.

“This is for Angel,” your deep voice spewed.

And then the burning began. You made it slow and torturous, starting with his feet and the tips of his wings and moving upwards until it consumed him completely. He screamed - his last moments filled with the stench of orange and mint - with fear.

You had killed so many times before, but never had it felt this good.

And then he was a pile of ash.

“No!” Velvette screamed. The brat demon and Vox were huddled over the edge of the concave abyss, watching the ash of their fallen partner blow away in the wind.

“You fucking arsehole,” she screamed. “You’re going to die for this!”

She lept, her claws sharpened to talons. Behind her Vox transformed into his demon form. Nearly three stories tall, the demon was a mass of electrokinetic energy, his claws digging into the cement of the street as sparks of blue scattered across the street.

Now this was a fight!

Velvette didn’t have a chance to land, for you back slapped her so hard she went flying into the wall of the crater, cracking cement beneath her body.

Vox was next, but you were faster. A surge of electrical wiring launched at you like a cobra striking its prey. You spun, easily dodging, and blasted through his screen like a missile. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but you were merely aiming to temporarily blind him while you dealt with the Bitch Queen herself.

Velvette climbed out from the crater, calling you every swear word in the book and then some.

She pulled a silver dagger from her jacket - a Carmilla Carmine blade. “I’m going to gut you like a fish!”

And then she attacked.

Eventually, Vox recovered, using any opening Velvette gave him to compliment her onslaught. And you were holding your own for a while, attempting to find various ways to stall Vox so you could get to Velvette, until...

You sent a wall of flame at the female Vee before turning to Vox and...

“Unknown.” A familiar female voice chimed. “Unknown. Unknown. Unknown.”

“What the fuck!?” Vox screamed, shaking his phone before slamming it against the ground.

The Soul Scanner. He was trying to get a read on who you are, but the technology couldn’t register your soul.

The media demon paused before his eyes met yours, the gears behind his irises turning in his head. And then something like recognition flashed in his eyes. Before you had a chance to think, a cackle echoed behind you.

Vox’s distraction left an opening, and as you spun, the female Vee ran that blade diagonally across your body.

You collapsed, your back to them, golden liquid pouring onto the pavement.

Velvette cackled, “Fucking, finally! Now I’m…” Velvette screamed, her sentence cut off abruptly.

You needed to get out of there. You needed to flee, but before you could summon your wings, a wave of darkness swam over you.

In one blink, you were in the Entertainment District; the next, you were outside Pentagram City in the Nothing. The outskirts of the City dropped off to nothing but endless black dirt and red sky going on for what everyone assumed was forever. Natives called it the "Nothing" because that was what was here: nothing.

A pair of red and white dress shoes appeared at the edge of your vision before everything went black.

____________________________________________

“And then I woke up here,” you finished.

The boys were silent until Angel leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

“Seriously?” Husk shot him an exasperated look.

The ex-Overlord knew you from a time when you did not have a reputation nor did you have a name. He didn’t know you were an Angel then. This was as much of a shock to him as it was to Angel. Husk was a business partner of sorts back in the day. What he did know, however, was that keeping your card was important. A friend had advised him to hang onto it. A very powerful friend…

Had they not, he might have just tossed it into an old deck of his and called it a day. Instead, the cat demon gambled it away. How perfect…

Husk did not, however, volunteer this information. For that you were thankful. It would bring up too many questions you didn’t have the answers to right now nor did you have the strength to answer them.

The cat demon knew how to keep his whiskers clean.

“What I wanna see 'er wings! Can I see ya' wings? I mean where the Hell do you put ‘em, anyway? I don’t see you carryin’ a purse or nothin'."

You giggled, the action burning through your chest. “Uhm,” God, your body hurts. “I can try, but I’ll rip the shirt.”

“So? Smiles probably has like fifty more up in his castle.” Angel waved it off.

You looked to Rolf for permission but the shadow was oddly still. “Okay.”

You stood and summoned your wings, but the wave of pain that came because of it manifested as dizziness and nausea. Luckily, Husk caught you before you fell.

“Get her upstairs, Rolf,” he passed you off to the shadow who somehow was able to hold you up despite being incorporeal.

Your vision blurred with the movement as he loaded you into the elevator.

“Ah, shit! I’m sorry I didn’t know!” Angel?

DING! The doors closed, and you ascended. Shivers wracked through your body, drowning you in sweat. Suddenly, the lights were too bright, the sounds too loud, and the world began to blur.

DING!

Alastor was there, his face full of worry, his usual smile replaced with straight-lipped concern. With elbows under your knees and hands behind your shoulders, he carried you back to his room, your dark wings scraping the floor as he walked.

His face was so foreign in this moment, like seeing him without a smile somehow made him a completely different person. It almost felt like he was sharing a secret with you, one only you knew about and one only he let you hear.

The demon pushed open his bedroom door with his foot, the lights of Pentagram City illuminating the air about him. Alastor was glowing, his form ethereal as golden hues danced about his ashen skin. He was almost angelic...

And that made the lack of his smile all the more disconcerting.

“Huh,” you slurred as he set you on the bed, the world beginning to blur. “I always wondered what you looked like without a smile.”

Darkness took you.

Al - "I will kill you!" You - *actively starts dying* Al- "No, wait!"

The Vox blowup is coming, Hoteliers, don't you worry ;)

-> Chapter Nine

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added): @sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @its-a-dam-blue-brick @sillywormtrixareforkids @cloverresin20

#alastor #alastor shadow #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #smut #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #Spotify

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maxknightley · 11 months ago

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Which Touhou Girls Can You Plausibly Read As Butch? A Comprehensive Overview

Earlier on Tumblr I saw a post complaining that someone called Hecatia Lapislazuli from Touhou Project butch. This is Hecatia Lapislazuli:

Obviously, like most Touhou characters, she is in fact quite feminine - she just shops at Hell Hot Topic. But it got me thinking: In a series like Touhou, with a cast overwhelmingly defined by feminine (if rowdy) ladies, how many characters could you say are 'butch' without sounding like a complete doofus or significantly redesigning them to fit your headcanon?

CRITERIA

I'll be using four main criteria to judge characters' butchness. In real life, of course, butchness is a multivalent and extremely personal thing, but I'm talking about funny cartoon women from a video game here, so I'm willing to be a little reductive.

These criteria, in order of descending importance, are:

FASHION. In a series where goddamn near everyone is in either a dress or a skirt, the mere act of Wearing A Dress Shirt can be enough to make a powerful statement. Hats may also play a role here, given how many Touhou characters have gay little hats.

HAIRSTYLE. Short hair is not the be-all and end-all of butchness. I, myself, am Decidedly Butch even though I've been growing out my hair since college. But the length and styling of the hair are still a valuable indicator of how someone thinks of themself and wants to be seen.

'TUDE. Could this character be accurately described as "kind of a frat boy?" How do they speak to others? Do they just kind of seem like a character who ought to be butch, regardless of their looks? Do they even lift?

COMEDY FACTOR. Self-explanatory. This will probably only come into play if I run into a weird edge case.

I'll also emphasize that we're grading on a curve here - butchness is being assessed relative to the characters who do not appear on this list. Nobody in this series has a buzzcut, you know what I mean?

THE TIER LIST

AS CLOSE TO CANON AS WE'LL GET

Fujiwara no Mokou. The girl wears a dress shirt, fucking suspenders, and trousers. Not shorts, actual full-length pants. She's also in a perpetual love-hate mutual-murder situationship with Princess Kaguya, who is femme as all fuck. Obviously you don't have to be butch to date a femme - I'm just saying it feels Fitting given their whole deal.

Yuugi Hoshiguma. Most of the time, her fashion sense is actually quite feminine - but her look in the most recent chapter of Cheating Detective Satori, with the one exposed shoulder and the sarashi and all that, significantly alters the balance. Her hair actually reads as more masc to me when she keeps it long and unruly - when she puts it up in a ponytail, she ends up looking very kempt, even elegant. The deciding factor here is 'Tude: Her sheer levels of butch swag are off the fucking charts. (Still, I wouldn't blame someone for arguing she should be knocked down a tier - especially since I'd argue the Comedy Factor works in reverse here. She's way funnier if she doesn't think of herself as butch in the slightest.)

Minamitsu Murasa. In his original appearance I'd argue that Murasa is in "Reasonable" tier - maybe even as low as "Kind of a Stretch." But her big gay Jotaro jacket in Sunken Fossil World, combined with the emphasis on the weightiness and solidity of his trademark anchor, put her over the top. One of the only Touhou girls I consider worthy of being He/Himmed.

Shinmyoumaru Sukuna. The other He/Him-worthy Touhou girl. Very short, slightly messy hair; wears a kimono, not a dress; inheritor of Issun-Boshi's legacy; wears fucking dinnerware as a hat. Why do you want to be Big so badly, huh? So you can pick up women more easily? So you can carry your awful wife through the upside-down threshold of your upside-down bedroom?

Raiko Horikawa. For the longest time I thought her skirt was a pair of shorts because I straight up could not parse it as anything else. Even now I'm like "that can't possibly be a skirt, ZUN just drew it weird. She has to be wearing a full two-piece suit." Skirt aside, her jacket/dress shirt/necktie are still undeniable, as is her short hair. Also, she is a taiko drum given life, and I feel like taiko and timpanis are naturally butch. Maybe if she was a tambourine or a set of bongos I'd rank her lower?

Momoyo Himemushi. Rough-talking miner. Wears a dress shirt, leaves the top button(?) undone. Tromps around a big weird cave with no shoes or socks on. Wears bows and bangles basically everywhere but in her messy, tangled hair. Also, maybe I'm stereotyping here, but I just can't picture a centipede as being femme.

REASONABLE

Wriggle Nightbug. The dress shirt, cape, and puffy shorts all paint a vivid picture, but I just feel like I don't have a strong enough opinion on Wriggle as a character to put her in the top tier. In other words, she's got plenty of points for Fashion and quite a few for Hairstyle, but I just don't think the 'Tude is sufficient for me.

Reisen Udongein Inaba. The skirts are a strike against her, but her whole "dress shirt + necktie + sometimes suit jacket" thing makes a big difference, especially given that we're grading on a curve. Her rumpled ears and (particularly in Inaba of the Moon, Inaba of the Earth) pathetic demeanor go a long way towards giving her a vibe somewhere between "overworked salaryman" and "Detective Columbo."

Aya Shameimaru. All you need to know about Aya is that her "human reporter" disguise looks like This:

Mononobe no Futo. Butch, but in a really weird, circuitous way, imo. Like. She's sort of wearing a dress, but it's sort of a robe - the contrast of the hemline with her big flowy sleeves makes it hard to pin down - and her outfit quite notably has tassels rather than any kind of frills. I don't know what the hell is up with her hat but it's definitely not femme by any stretch of the imagination. Then thou hast the wayes in which she speaketh all "faux-olde-timey," even though nobody else in the setting does that... she transferred her soul into a plate, but she also throws plates around as weapons... It's like she's constantly putting on a performance that only she truly understands. It's like she reverse-engineered "masculine womanhood" by hanging out with a bunch of queens and doing kind of the same thing but kind of the inverse. The more I think about Futo the more I think she's entirely on her own wavelength, but I think "Reasonable" tier is a... uh, reasonable... approximation for the sake of this post.

Sagume Kishin. She dresses like if Bill Nye were a woman, and I think that cuts to the heart of it - she reminds me of a professor who you're not ever sure is gay, but you kind of pick up on a vibe, and near the end of the semester she offhandedly refers to "her partner" and you're like HOLY SHIT I KNEW IT. I went back and forth between putting her in "Reasonable" and "Kind of a Stretch"; ultimately, the Comedy Factor decided it because I couldn't stop thinking about a scenario where she says she's a woman, accidentally upends her whole understanding of gender in the process, and ends up taking testosterone while still ID'ing as a lesbian. I don't actually know if her powers would work that way and I don't care.

KIND OF A STRETCH

Eiki Shiki. I don't have a lot to go on, here, because she hasn't had many official appearances and seems to spend most of her time lecturing people or tormenting sinners. Her uniform(?)/apothecary outfit(??) is pretty snazzy; combined with the hat, it gives her a vaguely "military officer" look to me. We'll call her "butch pending further investigation," which I think she would agree is the correct course of action.

Sekibanki. She's here partially because of the cape, and partially because being sandwiched between Wakasagihime and Kagerou makes her look way more masc by contrast. I know what I said.

Ringo. It's pretty much just the hat and the pants, though - as a butch woman who Loves Eating - I am also inclined to project my own experiences onto her.

Aunn Komano. She reads as more "tomboyish" than outright "butch" to me, what with her whole puppy-dog vibe, but at the same time... she's very much wearing shorts and the kind of goofy-looking button-up shirt that is central to my own wardrobe and the wardrobe of other butches in my life. I'm willing to count her.

Takane Yamashiro. A living testament to the power of small character design choices. I would never in a million years call Nitori butch, even with her gay little hat and all the pouches on her outfit - she just looks like a girl scout. Takane, though? Takane, with her little hair swoopy, and the fucking suitcase slung over her back, and her camo-print dress? I mean - ultimately it is still a dress, which is why I can't justify scoring her higher, but she's definitely chewing tobacco and riding around on an ATV on weekends.

Chiyari Tenkaijin. If she's butch, it's not really because she's trying to be butch, it's just because being femme seems too expensive and time-consuming. She's got better things to do (drink blood all day). Still, I think an argument could be made.

DEFINITELY A STRETCH, BUT I RESPECT IT

Renko Usami. ZUN is kind of inconsistent with how he draws her hat - sometimes it's more of a porkpie/fedora type thing, other times it's round-topped and looks a bit like Koishi's hat. To me, this is a crucial distinction. In a more general sense, I feel like Renko's outfit gets a little less plausibly-masc with each passing album, which says a lot about our society. Or her society, anyway, since she lives in the future. Still, the capelets and bowties...

Rinnosuke Morichika. I think it would be really funny if the only significant male character in Touhou wasn't actually even a dude. I'm not aware of any real textual support for this interpretation, though.

Shou Toramaru. Pretty much only on here because of the hair and because I think there's a certain je ne sais quoi to her whole deal of "she's not a real tiger, she's the idea of a tiger that pre-Meiji Japanese people came up with from secondhand accounts."

Seija Kijin. Not even remotely butch by any stretch of the imagination... But if she did consider herself butch, isn't that exactly what she'd want you to think?

POTENTIALLY NOTEWORTHY EXCLUSIONS

Cirno. "Tomboyish" is not the same thing as "butch," to me, especially if you exclusively wear dresses. Also, I'm not sure Cirno even knows what a lesbian is.

Saki Kurokoma. Not actually butch, just a horse girl. (And a horsegirl.)

Mike Goutokuji. Can't tell if she's wearing a skirt or shorts. She's got short hair, sure, but the whole "matching bell collar and wristbands that also have bells attached" thing makes her look more like a Very Online Trans Woman who just figured herself out and hasn't started hormones or bought any new clothes yet.

#touhou #touhou project #crossposted from cohost after i spent like an hour on it.

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javelinbk · 3 months ago

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But by far the greatest Christmas gift John ever gave to Yoko—as well as to me—wasn’t anything he’d purchased at a store or recorded onto a cassette tape. It was an event, an enchanted twinkling of pure distilled joy, that he orchestrated just for the three of us during the waning hours of December 31, 1979.

A few days earlier, John had laid out his plans to me. He wanted to turn the newly acquired apartment 71 into a private club. John was not a huge fan of nightlife—crowds were problematic for obvious reasons—but he enjoyed the concept of an exclusive, intimate space, something like an old English men’s establishment... So, shortly after Christmas, he and I went shopping on New York’s Lower East Side, where there were dozens of secondhand shops, and proceeded to purchase enough cheap furniture and other decorations—overstuffed sofas, martini shakers, pink flamingo cardboard cutouts—to turn 71 into what John had by now begun referring to as Club Dakota.

After furniture shopping, we spent a few hours combing through vintage record shops, looking for old 78s to fill that antique bubble-top jukebox Yoko had given John. (We found Dooley Wilson singing “As Time Goes By,” Bobby Darin’s “Dream Lover,” Bing Crosby’s “Please,” Gracie Fields’s “Sally,” and scores more.) Then we headed to Canal Street and picked up moldy old black-tie tails and white gloves to wear on Club Dakota’s opening night, which John had decided would be on New Year’s Eve. Technically, John and I were to be the club’s only charter members, but he instructed me to write out a formal invitation to Yoko, which I would later hand deliver to her on a silver platter. Yoko was made merely an “honorary” member because, as John joked to me, otherwise she would immediately try to sexually integrate the club.

I have thought often about that night, about how best to describe it to those who weren’t lucky enough to be there (which, of course, would be the whole rest of the world). And the best I can come up with is that it was like spending a blissful interlude suspended in a magical snow globe. In my memory, we all seem to move in slow motion, as if gliding through glycerin-laced air. The three of us—Yoko in an elegant black evening gown, John and I in ridiculous old penguin suits (he paired his with a white T-shirt and his old Liverpool school tie)—danced and laughed (and smoked) together without a care in the world, the jukebox filling the living room with glorious old tunes from the ’40s and ’50s. I took dozens of Polaroid photos of them that night, but for some reason none of them capture the magic of the moment.

And then, at midnight, our reveries were interrupted by the pop and crackle of fireworks. We all stood by the windows and watched the skyline over Central Park light up with flaming balls and sparkling whirly fountains and a slew of other aerial bursts and barrages. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life. And I’d never seen John and Yoko looking more content and in love.

It was that rarest, most precious thing in life—a perfect moment.

It would also, as fate would have it, be John’s last New Year’s Eve.

Excerpt From, ‘We All Shine On’, Elliot Mintz

#this is a very sweet story #but it really highlights the weird relationship the three of them had #john setting up a private club just for him and yoko is lovely #john setting up a private club just for him yoko and elliot is… interesting #also he doesn’t explain the part where john took his shirt off #john lennon #yoko ono #john and yoko #elliot mintz #quotes:books

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aspionagee · 2 months ago

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Update for fans of A Patchwork Family: I will be uploading chapter 1 of the sequel on December 1st or earlier, and weekly updates will commence from then.

I'm super excited, and I hope everyone else is, too! I'll be doing a title reveal soon, and I'll possibly post some other snippets in the run up to the release.

Since the sequel will be gaining steam around the Christmas season, I've written a little snippet of Harry, Draco and Severus engaged in Yule Ball preparations in honour of that. Enjoy! :)

Despite Severus’ considerable willpower, he was unable to prevent signs of Christmas festivity from invading his living quarters. Even though they had both returned to living in their respective dormitories during fourth year, Harry and Draco had joined forces to bring the yuletide spirit to their father’s rooms. Tinsel hung from the walls; a Christmas tree twinkled in the corner; stockings were suspended over the fireplace.

But as he stood in the bathroom on Christmas Day, Harry was beginning to wish he could banish any evidence of the dreadful holiday from his life. All it did was remind him of the impending Yule Ball.

For the hundredth time, he wetted his comb and raked it through his hair, only for it to stubbornly spring upright. Harry groaned loudly, and smacked his forehead against the mirror. He looked completely ridiculous! What was Parvati going to think? Even worse, what would Cho think when she saw Harry? She was bound to give him a pitying look, while inwardly congratulating herself on picking the right champion…

Severus knocked on the door and asked, “What on earth is going on in there?”

“My hair!” Harry said, dragging the comb through once more. “It just won’t stay down - bloody hell!”

Severus pushed open the door, clearly struggling to stifle his laughter.

“Stop it!” Harry said despairingly. “It’s not funny!”

“My apologies.” Severus’ lips continued twitching. “I’ve just never seen you act so very much like your brother.”

“Watch it!” Draco shouted from the other room. “If he was a bit more like me, Harry might know how to clean up properly in situations like this!"

“Bugger off!” Harry yelled back, whacking the top of his head with the flat end of the comb, hoping that blunt force might succeed where all else had failed.

Severus examined him inquisitively. “Since when does your hair bother you? I’ve spent the better part of a year imploring you to use a comb while you grumble at me.”

“Draco said I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge,” Harry muttered, patting more water onto his head.

“And I am certain your hair was also a complete bird's nest when you asked Miss Patil to be your… companion. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

“Eugh, companion?” Harry gave Severus a bemused look. “Who even says that?”

Severus sighed, and took the comb from his hand. “Harry, this is a losing battle. It’s time to head upstairs. Miss Patil will surely be waiting for you, and it’s rude to leave a date unattended.”

Harry finally conceded defeat and took a step back to look himself over in the mirror. He felt incredibly uncomfortable in the dark green dress robes he’d been forced to wear for the Yule Ball. They were stiff, and strange, and made Harry feel far too trussed up. Severus’ robes were also much finer than usual, but he was naturally still wearing his customary shade of black.

“I’d take the Horntail over this,” Harry muttered.

Severus rolled his eyes. “It’s a school dance, Harry.”

“Yeah, and I have to lead the stupid dance in front of everybody! It’s so embarrassing!”

“Somehow, I think you’ll live to see another day.” He scanned his eyes over Harry and scowled, reaching out towards his neck. “Why on earth have you knotted your tie like that?”

Harry batted his father’s hands away. “Stop fussing, it’s fine!”

“It’s completely askew -”

He took several steps back and raised his arms in a defensive barrier to avoid Severus’ continued attacks. “It’s supposed to be that way!”

Severus gave him a look of immense disdain. “Teenagers…”

“Harry!” Draco bellowed. “Get a move on, Cecilia is waiting for me!”

Harry pulled a face and began to shuffle towards the door with extreme reluctance. Severus clapped him on the shoulder.

“At least try to look as though you’re enjoying yourself, Harry. You’re going to a ball, not walking to the gallows.”

“Har har,” he grumbled.

#this was fun to write #and honestly?#might turn into a oneshot of its own #but anyways SEQUEL!#a patchwork family #severitus #harry potter #severus snape #draco malfoy

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bottle-of-harpoons · 10 months ago

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Bruv, this took soo fucking long.

New AU dropping, boys.

So basically it's a hybrid between the 'toxic chain/possessed Kieran' AU and the 'Kieran is Ogerpon' AU.

In this AU, the events of the teal mask play out normally.

After Kieran looses his fight to Julianna, he starts hearing a mysterious voice in his head. It starts playing with his insecurities and telling him he needs to be stronger.

"That's why the oger didn't want you as a trainer. You were too weak".

Thanks to the voices advise and 'encouragement', Kieran quickly rises through the ranks of the Blueberry League and becomes champion. However, he also becomes a massive jackass.

The voice tell him that everyone is beneath him. He starts bullying other club members until the point were everyone is too imtimidated by him to hang out with him.

He is distant and aggressive towards the Elite 4. He doesn't even attend meetings and barley does any of his champion responsibilities, causing Amarys and Crispin to step up. Lacey was too busy helping Cyrano with academic duties. Drayton dedicated all his time to helping out the trainers Kieran bullied.

Kieran started skipping classes and dedicated all his time to training. The only person who still talked to him was Carmine.

However, after months of trying to reach out, Kieran finally snapes at Carmine, causing her to retreat from him. After this, Kieran finally realises he is truly alone. But thats when the voice makes a deal with him.

He could continue living his life alone and unloved or he could dawn the mask and start a new life. Kieran takes the mask, not fully understanding the deal. He ends up loosing his human form and turning into an Ogerpon. It is then that the voice reveals itself as Pecharunt and it steals Kieran human life.

Because of Kieran's shitty behaviour, he suspended from the academy for one month and 'Kieran' is sent back to Kitikami.

Kieran is left roaming around the Terrarium, dealing with the fact that he is now a pokemon and a whole fuck load of self esteem issues.

However, he is eventually found by Carmine and the new exchange student, Julianna.

Some notes in this AU -

Kieran isn't evil. He's a young child who needs help and the only people who notice are also children themselves. (Carmines doing what she can but she's still young and inexperienced)

Pecharunt has no control over Kierans actions or emotions. He basically says things to Kieran to encourage his negative thoughts and continue his unhealthy downward spiral.

I didn't explain this earlier but when Kieran put on the Ogerpon mask, he left behind a human mask that represents his human form. Pecharunt is currently wearing it.

Pecharunt wants a family again. He woke up many years later to find the old couple he used to live with had died. He wanted a family again but he wanted to live equally among the humans as well. So he started scheming to steal Kierans human life.

His plan just consists of him manipulating Kierans life until he was completely cut off from his friends and family. Once Kieran has nothing, he could trick Kieran into trading him his human life, then he could rebuild Kieran's life from the ground up.

Kieran's not having fun adjusting to life as a pokemon but he believes it's his punishment for being a dick to everyone.

Juliana's meowscarada is called Verde (haven't figured out what the rest of her team consists of yet). Carmine's mightyanna is called Subarashi (Suba for short), her sinistchi is called Chia, morpeko is Kamu and ninetails is Kyu (I used google translate for this, sorry if they're weird). Kieran's furret is called Shippo and his hydrapple is called Ringo.

Fun fact - This plot concept was taken from an old submas fanfic I started writing but never finished. Short summary was Ingo coming back to modern day Unova but he still has amnesia. His and Emmets relationship becomes very strained. Emmets ends up making a deal with Giratina to help turn him into a zorua and use hi illusion powers to get close to Ingo again. (I may post a full summary of the story one day)

Because of this, in the original draft, Kieran was going to turn into a zorua. I changed it just incase I ever wanted to revisits the old fic. Also I thought it would be funny if he turned into ogerpon.

This was heavily inspired by the Kieranpon au, the possessed Kieran au and the movie 'a whisker away'.

Sorry for any spelling errors. No excuse just can't spell for shit.

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abarbaricyalp · 17 days ago

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All That and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Too

Merry Christmas! Don't look at the date.

It had started on December 13th. It was easy enough to remember because Bucky had texted him: Happy Twelve Days of Christmas. Your countdown starts now. and a gif of a very fat orange cat wearing a Santa hat.

The twelve days of Christmas happen AFTER Christmas, Sam had answered.

Bucky had texted him back a shrugging emoji.

They hadn't seen each other in a week or so, but Sam knew Bucky was in Louisiana because he hadn't turned off the cat camera, so Sam got a notification every time he passed in front of one of them. Luckily, Bucky had the motivation of the cats as far as daily activities went, so he mostly moved from the couch to the bed and then back to the couch every four hours and stayed out of range of the cameras when he was getting himself into trouble.

Sam was stuck in New York. He'd been stuck in New York for four days and before that Bucky had been in DC, so the holiday season was not exactly going to plan.

Countdown for what? he asked a few minutes later.

Bucky didn't respond, which wasn't unusual. He was a terrible texter.

It was late that evening when another text from his partner came in. Sam had all but forgotten about the impending countdown, chalking it up to a series of gifts or letters or something romantic like that. Bucky was good at those things, even though he pretended not to be. Sam was actually kind of surprised when flowers hadn't shown up at his door after the earlier conversation.

He'd only just gotten back to his hotel room when the text came in. He opened it while kicking his shoes off and yanking his tie loose enough to wrangle over his head.

The text loaded first, Come sit on Santa's lap ;) and the picture loaded right after it, before Sam even had time to make sure he was alone.

Mostly it was Bucky's abdomen, flexed and kind of wet for some reason. He was sprawled across the reading chair in their bedroom, long legs stretched in front of him, spread and lazy and inviting. Leather suspenders stretched along his body, connecting to lush red velvet pants that looked hardier and hotter than they had any reason to, especially since there was white fuzz along the waistband and cuffs. He was wearing the black combat boots that he knew did some sort of thing to Sam.

The picture cut off at his shoulders, rounded and tense and perfect. The line of his arm followed to the waistband of his pants, where he was lazily shoving it down, revealing the long, hard line of his cock, half exposed, half hidden beneath his pants.

Sam's hand went to his own crotch without him meaning to. It was a tantalizing tease and he could feel it working its way through him.

I don't know if I've been very good this year, he texted back with a pouting emoji.

He finished kicking off his pants and shrugged out of his shirt, all without turning off the screen of his phone. Bucky had read receipts and typing notifications off, because he was a cagey asshole, so the return text was fully a surprise.

That's my favorite kind of year.

Sam dropped himself on the bed and palmed over himself again. He still wasn't done staying at the photo when a second message came in.

You can still have your present.

It was accompanied by another photo. This time, Bucky had shoved his pants down and was fisting the top half of his cock, exposed flank tense. Sam wanted to put his teeth on it.

He switched from his messages app to the cat camera so he could watch Bucky in real time, but Bucky had been smart enough-- enough of an asshole-- to move the chair out of view of the camera. Sam exchanged a few cursed words at that, but went back to the pictures without much reticence.

What am I supposed to do with that? he asked, as if he wasn't already jerking off to a multitude of thoughts about exactly what he'd like to do with that. I already have one of those.

The next picture caught some of Bucky's face. He'd turned to hide it against the wingback, but Sam could still see half of his wide grin and the crinkling around his eye.

Sometimes two is better than one.

Sam couldn't argue with that. He slipped his hand beneath his boxers, starting to jerk himself off in the hopes that Bucky would send another picture where he wasn't hiding his dick. One didn't come. Sam could still appreciate those boots and the leather suspenders though.

He came across his stomach before he even really got to enjoy the jerking off. Lazily, he put two fingers in his mouth (Bucky could extrapolate what he wanted from that) and took a picture of his messy abdomen and mouth.

Whoops, still being bad, he texted, then got up to take a shower.

But you make it look so good, Bucky answered. Wish your fingers were in MY mouth though.

Sam laughed as he shucked his boxers into the corner and turned on the water. Bucky was so damn easy sometimes.

Naughty, Mr. Barnes.

And once again, he was unsurprised that Bucky didn't answer. Hell, he'd probably fallen asleep. Sam got into the shower and ran up the water bill thinking about those pictures again.

Continue on AO3

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfic #thunderbolts #captain america brave new world #cabnw #writing

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ghoulie-67-baby · 2 years ago

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Nature vs Nurture part 2 - Good omens.

Summary: Befriending a snake but it turns out to be Crowley and he’s injured.

Warnings: Blood, slight injury, snakes.

Pairing: Humanfem!reader x ineffable husbands (Platonic / Otherwise).

Word count: 2,659.

I didn't wake to my alarm like I did every morning but instead with the feeling of something moving across my bed sheets, half draped over my body. I sat up in shock, looking around in alarm only to find a snake that looked just as shocked as me. I stared for a moment before the previous night began to filter back into my mind and I slumped back onto my pillows, letting myself relax.

"Sorry Precious forgot you were here, I'm so used to being on my own." I greeted the beautiful creature as he slithered up alongside my face and bumped his nose on my outstretched hand. I turned onto my side to face him as he coiled his body beneath him and came to a sit still on my pillow. A yawn broke the soft silence of the room and with a stretch, I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face with a sigh.

"Okie dokie Snakie, what is best to wear for a book shop interview huh?" I knew he couldn't speak but it was better than talking to myself like I usually did. I shuffled over to my wardrobe, dragging open the doors and clicking my tongue in thought. Humming to myself, I pulled out a few items that would be appropriate and laid them on the end of the bed. "Okay so, this black skirt goes well with some tights and kitten heels look cute, I think suspenders would be best with it and a shirt that matches, maybe navy blue, to go with a blazer jacket or" I pulled out a few more things. "These black trousers could be okay with this top and a blazer. What do you think?" I held the skirt and trousers up whilst looking at him and shrugged. "I like the skirt plus I feel it would fit a bookshop pretty well."

His yellow eyes seemed to dart between the two before settling on the skirt and nodding towards it slightly. I grinned at him and placed it on the other side of the bed beside him.

"Now for the top, this navy shirt or the navy scoop neck with long sleeves?" I lifted them both up and down as we decided. "I like the scoop neck but it does come a little low and shows a bit of cleavage. With a blazer, it shouldn't be too bad right?" I decided with a hum of satisfaction before going to my drawers. "Black or blue suspenders?" His head bobbed to the black ones so I chucked them to the bed before smiling and clapping my hands together. "I shall be back soon, don't wander off Precious." I gathered all of my clothes and underwear into my arms before making my way to the bathroom.

As I dressed I couldn't help the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I really needed this job, really wanted it too and couldn't help but worry about the outcome. I smoothed down the skirt with a sigh as I looked at the outfit in the mirror, the items did go well together. After brushing my hair and styling it I nodded to myself and left the bathroom, careful not to slip against the tiles because of the material of my tights.

"I think you have an eye for fashion Precious," I twirled around in front of the snake and grinned, grabbing my chunky heeled oxfords to complete the fit. "Okay, walking won't take long and the earlier the better at this point." It was bordering on 10 AM as I grabbed my blazer and bag, throwing on a clean scarf for good measure. "Right, I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone but I don't think Mr Fell will appreciate me bringing a snake to the shop somehow." His head nodded towards my scarf as he made his way over and I looked at him confused. "Look, you could hide under my scarf around my neck but you'd have to be very still and well-behaved." Seemingly he understood everything else so this couldn't hurt right. "I mean it, best behaviour Precious." I let the reptile slink up around my neck and made sure to cover him carefully with my scarf so it hid him but didn't suffocate him.

"Let's do this," I whispered to him, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me. The journey was fairly uneventful though the sun did shine for once, even with a slightly chilly breeze around us. I enjoyed the reassuring weight of my new friend around my neck and found myself rearranging the scarf to discreetly pet him every so often. I waved a thank you to a driver as they allowed me to cross the road and looked up at the burgundy building in awe, taking a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, smiling as the bell tinkled above me.

Nobody was in the shop as the door closed behind me gently and I clutched the strap of my bag as I looked around me. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with books, not as incredibly neat as other shops but this gave it a more warm and homey feeling. A gentle light filled the shop as I wandered between shelves, dodging tables piled with books and chairs placed around the room for shoppers. For a few moments, I totally forgot about the nerves and churning of my stomach whilst being surrounded by my passion until a mess of white curls peered around one of the selves and bright blue eyes met my own. My back straightened instantly and I smiled at them.

"Hi, I'm looking for Mr Fell," My throat was considerably dry as the figure came into view.

"Yes, that's me, it's nice to meet you..." He trailed off slowly.

"Oh right, I'm Y/N. I saw your job listing online and couldn't wait to have a look at your shop." I held out my hand to him, silently thanking the heavens it wasn't sweaty because of nerves. "You didn't specify the date or time so I thought I'd come by and see if you had any preferences." My heart thumped in my chest as his warm hand shook my own, lingering for a second before he clasped them in front of him with a smile.

"Of course my dear, if you just follow me to my desk that'd be great." He wandered off around the corner and with a nod I followed, rearranging my scarf as the snake beneath shifted slightly. "Take a seat wherever you'd like dear girl." I did as he said, smoothing down my skirt and placing my bag down by my feet before allowing my eyes to meet his. "So, have you ever worked in a bookshop before?"

"Not quite, but before moving here I spent so much time in one that I was practically part of the furniture." I joked, relaxing as he chuckled.

"They are the most relaxing places to be so that's understandable. My shop is quite big, how well do you think you could memorise genres and where they go?"

"My memory can get a little muddled but once I get used to things then I can be as reliable as a contents page in a book so I think I'd do pretty well." I was being entirely honest here, something told me he'd be able to tell if I bent the truth even a little.

"That's quite alright, I understand these things take time." His eyes caught on my scarf for a second as my stowaway shifted. I bit my lip hoping he would let it go. "I'm sorry, Your scarf seems to be moving on its own accord. Is there something under it?" I couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or confused but I held my breath and nodded stiffly.

"I had a bit of a surprise on the way home last night and was a bit troubled because I don't have the facilities to leave him alone," I explained, unravelling the garment from around my neck to reveal the red and black snake beneath. "I'm really sorry I brought him with me but I couldn't leave him unattended plus he's well-behaved, usually." His shining blue eyes met the snake's calmly as he held out his hand slightly.

"There you are my dearest, honestly, I leave you for five minutes and you go missing. Do you know how worried I was?" My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he spoke to the reptile, a tone of irritation in his voice though it was minor.

"He's yours?" I couldn't help but feel my heart and stomach sink at the idea of him having an owner already.

"You could say that, he's quite the demon." The snake seemed to hiss in amusement at what seemed like an inside joke and I nodded sadly. "Where did you find him, if you don't mind my asking?"

"In the park, you ought to know he has a wound on the underside of his belly and though I cleaned it, and please don't think I'm crazy, he refused the vets entirely. Going as far as lunging at me for trying to push the idea." The man in front of me seemed to nod in agreement and didn't judge me, holding out his hands to take him.

"Yes, that sounds very much like him. He's a stubborn soul." He lifted the animal and tutted as he saw the wound, visibly upset by it. "What on earth happened? Why haven't you taken care of yourself." The way he spoke seemed like he was expecting an answer and I couldn't help but be unsure and confused. "Please go and fix yourself so we can talk about this properly my dear boy. You have some explaining to do." Within seconds, the snake was placed on the floor and wriggled away, leaving the two of us amongst the books. "Sorry about that dear, I'm sure you're quite confused by the whole ordeal."

"A little, he's very intelligent for a snake. I didn't realise he was someone's pet, sorry about this." I twisted my hands in the fabric of my skirt.

"Who are you calling a pet?" A new face appeared beside the bookshelf, a lean body resting against the shelves. I jumped in surprise and smiled at the stranger.

"Sorry, I didn't realise there was anyone else here. I'm Y/N, do you work here too?" I shook the man's hand, still shaken by the previous occurrence.

"Crowley and nope," He threw himself on the sofa beside Mr Fell, wincing slightly as he sat himself up. "I just enjoy the company." He grinned widely at the other man, straightening his sunglasses. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question." His hand held his stomach for a second before he shifted.

"Mr Fell has a snake that went missing, I found him and was just saying that I didn't realise he was someone's pet."

"Oh, he's not, if anything he's the snake's pet," I looked at him in confusion, hoping for elaboration as Mr Fell shook his head at Crowley. "Aren't you Angel?" My eyes flickered between the two for a moment, cheeks flushing as I realised they must be together or at least dancing around one another with the way they interacted. The two noticed my state of befuddlement and grinned at one another. "I do like the name Precious though. Wouldn't mind that as a nickname when you're working here." His head tilted towards me as he slipped off the sunglasses and looked me straight in the eyes.

My brain seemed to short-circuit as the same eyes the snake had looked at me, a huge grin spreading across his face. I opened my mouth to speak but quickly closed it when words failed to form. This happened a few times before I gave up, settling for just sitting and staring at the lean man. I mean stranger things have happened, right?

"Are you alright dear?" Mr Fell leant forward in his seat as I blinked at him blankly. "I fear you've broken her Crowley, you could've been gentler with her."

"She'll snap soon Angel, she was talking to a snake for Satan's sake, this can't be that strange to her if I pointed her in the direction of your shop and she proceeded to listen." I nodded slowly, he did make sense after all.

"So," I took a deep breath, pursing my lips for a moment. "You're telling me you're the snake that I found in the park that can just miraculously turn from snake to human-"

"Not quite human Darling, more like a demonic entity if you'd be so kind."

"Okay, snake to demon then. And you expect me not to freak out right?" I was taking this better than expected. "Maybe, I could just have a glass of water please Mr Fell." My clammy hands gripped my skirt as I cleared my throat, huffing out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Of course, dear, give us a moment." The two disappeared from the sofa, talking amongst each other.

"Come on Angel, she's alone and we'd be doing her and ourselves a favour." The way he pleaded made him seem almost human.

"That's all good and well dearest but look at her, she's obviously in shock by the situation. If you were human you'd be the same, Y/N had just found out you are a demon, turn into a snake and has probably guessed I'm an angel by now so do give her some time." My eyes came back into focus as the glass of water was held out in front of me and within seconds the liquid was gone and I gasped a breath. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you. I have no idea how any of this works obviously but I guess it is what it is. I'm sorry I called you a pet and also sorry for almost keeping him, he's quite charming as a snake." The two chuckled before Crowley seemed to catch onto what I said.

"Hang on, I'm charming anyway."

"Yes well, it seems you have some new things to get used to but as a thank you and just because you seem overall quite perfect for the job, you can start anytime within the next week. It's up to you if you still want the job of course." The angel seemed to be hesitant as he waited for a reply, comforted by the dark-haired demon that had his arm resting on the back of the couch behind him.

"I mean, I'd still love the job, I just ask I get a few explanations and answers to questions if and when I have them if you don't mind Mr Fell." I couldn't work out why this hadn't set off alarms in my head but in all honesty, I was very curious about the pair.

"That sounds wonderful dear, it'll be lovely having a new face here with us and it's Aziraphale, Mr Fell is just a cover-up name for the shop." That made sense. The smile on his face made me smile back as I stood up, followed by them both. "There isn't a dress code either as long as it's comfortable and appropriate."

"In case you have any questions that can't wait." Crowley held out a piece of paper with his number on and I took it with a smile. "Don't hesitate to message or ring us." He winked, the glow of his eyes only brightened by the warm light of the room and I nodded, trying to hide the creeping blush on my face.

"Well, I'd better get going, I'll see you both tomorrow then." And with that and a call of goodbye from the pair I left the shop, bell tinkling above me once more, leaving me to the onslaught of thoughts and questions on the two strange beings.

#good omens #good omens x reader imagines #good omens x reader #good ineffable omens #ineffeble husbands #ineffable husbands x reader #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 30th: Costumes | Children of the Grave - Black Sabbath | Loyal [1.9k, rated T] read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

“No, no, no, no—” Gareth protests, ducking the Donkey costume mask that Eddie tosses his way backstage. “Not again! Dude, that thing smells like having a condom over your face and it’s impossible to drum in. I’m not doing it this year. No way. Someone else is taking one for the team this time.”

Eddie cackles, trying not to cry with laughter and smudge his green face paint. “Decide amongst yourselves then, but someone is wearing it. We’ve gotta commit.”

Jeff snorts and shakes his head. “No chance, why can’t someone be like, Fiona or something?”

“We need Donkey! He’s crucial to the story!” Eddie rolls his eyes and walks over to grab the mask. “Okay, circle up. We’re gonna Rock, Paper, Scissors this. On my count.”

The rest of the band huddles around and Eddie counts to three. Gareth throws rock and celebrates as Frank and Jeff both throw scissors.

“Redemption!” He celebrates as Eddie counts Frank and Jeff in for three.

In the end, Frank gets stuck with the Donkey costume, Jeff reprises his Pinocchio costume, and Gareth steals Farquaad out from under Frank in the Rock, Paper, Scissors coup. No one is particularly happy, but Eddie doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because Shrek Night is his favorite show of the year. Since its inception a few years earlier, entirely by accident when Eddie was forced to perform as Shrek as a dare, it’s become something of a cult classic among Corroded Coffin fans. The last show they play before Halloween is a costume night, and the fans have taken to the theme like, well, like an ogre to mud.

There’s something incredibly special about screaming the lyrics to their latest hit while a sea of Shreks and Gingys and Fionas scream along with him.

And tonight is no different.

—

“Shreddie! Shreddie! Shreddie!”

The crowd roars to life as the group takes the stage, waddling in costumes and maybe a little itchy from body paint and latex masks.

“Give it up for Donkey on the bass!” Eddie shouts, pointing to Frank. He gives his best, saddest wave.

“Give it up for Pinocchio on the guitar!” He yells again as Jeff hammers a riff in response and grins in his fedora and suspenders.

“And last but certainly not least, give it up for Lord Farquaad on the drums!” Gareth drums a little rimshot as the hat pokes out over the top of his high hat. How he plans on drumming the whole night crouched on his knees is beyond Eddie, but ultimately not up to him.

The crowd goes insane, as usual, and Eddie takes a second to soak it all in, to glance over the various costumes before everyone melds into one collective unit of chaos. Fairy Godmothers, and Donkeys, and Fionas as far as the eye can see. He even spots a Puss in Boots in the front of the pit, standing next to a very attractive Gingy.

He doesn’t have time to assess the life choices that lead him to have that particular thought though, because Gareth starts counting them in.

—

Their originals are hits, of course, as are the covers. After all, it wouldn’t be a true Shrek Night without at least a couple of songs from the famed movies.

“And then I saw her face!” He shrieks, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Now I’m a believer!”

He runs around the stage, careful not to lose the microphone (again) as Jeff, Gareth, and Frank pound away at the melody. As the song comes to a close, Eddie slides on his knees, hardly protected by the cheap beige pants from Walmart, to the edge of the stage.

“Not a trace! Of doubt in my mind! I’m a believer!” He sings, drawing out the final note.

Chants and applause follow him up and he falls to his back, guitar over his chest, pounding his feet and fists on the stage as he catches his breath. Green paint melts from his forehead and when he brushes his hair back, he pulls his fingers away to see shades of ogre paint that’s surely made its way into his hairline.

Before he can stand, Gareth shouts into his microphone, presumably to give Eddie another second or two. It’s no secret that I’m A Believer is high octane.

“Do you know…” Gareth pauses for effect before shouting. “The muffin man?”

Before the crowd yells out together, jumbled and out of sync, a faux high-pitched voice rings out surprisingly close to Eddie’s feet.

“The muffin man!”

He sits up and spots him: the hot Gingy he’d noticed earlier, laughing with a scrunched up nose, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.

Oh, fuck me, Eddie thinks. He’s adorable.

It’s usually the other way around: Eddie being ogled by a fan in the front row, staring up at him like he’s something to eat, like he’s prey. Ignoring them is easy enough, typically appeased with just a smile or a wink to carry with them forever, but this guy? The one with the fuzzy brown onesie with purple button and white, pretend icing lining the legs and waist? Well, Eddie’s never actually wanted a fan in the front row to look at him until now.

So he scoots to the end of the stage, legs dangling over the edge, and steals Gareth’s line. Grinning down at the guy pressed to the railing, he screeches. “The muffin man!”

Gingy’s friend, known only to him at this point as Puss in Boots, elbows him hard in the ribs and he looks up to see Eddie staring right at him, crooked grin, and in hindsight, probably a bit more unhinged than planned.

His friend looks back and forth between them, disbelief in the shape of her mouth and furrowed forehead, but it seems to work because Gingy returns the smile and has the audacity to wink at him.

Eddie raises his green brows towards his hairline and nods appreciatively. The barricade isn’t far from the edge of the stage, close enough for Eddie to leave the microphone to the side and ask Gingy and his friend to hang back after the show.

—

After one crowdsurfing escapade from Jeff, one quip into the microphone from Gareth about how he now understands why Farquaad is always so cranky, and few more of the originals peppered with All Star and Bad Reputation covers, Corroded Coffin takes an awkward but well-deserved bow. The crowd cheers for more, even after their encore, but eventually filter out through the venue’s exit doors, flooding the parking lots and nearby streets with Shrek characters.

Eddie’s sure the local bars are having a blast.

The only fans left are Gingy and Puss in Boots, who Eddie desperately needs the real names of before his thoughts turn into a troubling Shrek fanfiction. With a quick word to their manager, Chrissy, he makes sure they won’t leave before he comes back with a plan— a very weird, very niche plan that he hopes works on the presumably dorky, albeit confident, man in the fuzzy onesie.

Her wings bump him in the shoulder and remind him that she truly is his Fairy Godmother.

“Eddie,” Jeff deadpans as he plops his prop fedora on the backstage table and unfastens the buttons of his suspenders. “Are you really about to go hit on a fan? Dressed as Shrek? With an onion?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He whirls on him, a lone onion from a backstage fridge somewhere in one hand and a sponge trying to at least clean up his face paint in the other. He’s sure he looks insane. And he may as well be at this point.

“Uh, don’t? That’s the better idea?” Frank offers in the corner, his face red and sweaty from the suffocating Donkey mask.

“Not an option, so Operation Onion is on. I’ll be back. Or not. Hopefully not, actually.” Eddie shakes his head and sets down the makeup sponge, places the onion in his prop burlap bag. “Wish me luck!”

Gareth sighs with ice packs on his knees. “Nope.”

—

Eddie approaches the open backstage area, the spare lounge where Chrissy’s talking with Gingy and Puss in Boots. Maybe talking a little more intently to Puss in Boots, but he can’t begrudge her. After all, Eddie’s doing the same thing, isn’t he?

He catches a bit of the conversation before opening the door, overhearing Chrissy refer to them as Steve and Robin.

Thank God, he thinks to himself. Better than the placeholders.

By no means does Eddie consider himself a rockstar— not yet, anyways. He enjoys the mid-level shows he gets to do with his friends, especially on nights like this, but he’s yet to harness that rockstar swagger. At his core, he’s still the marginally insecure, frantic kid from Bumfuck Nowhere, Indiana who paints D&D miniatures and speaks Elvish. And dresses up as Shrek, apparently.

All of that to say, his heart pounds in his chest and his tongue feels twisted around itself when he knocks on the door.

“Oh, hey, Eddie! Come on in! Great show tonight!” Chrissy smiles, wide and bright, as she introduces Steve and Robin. “This is Steve, and this is Robin. Steve, Robin, you all know Eddie. Or, should I say, Shreddie?”

All three groan and shake their heads in good nature.

“To be fair, man, you are still in the get-up. I thought you were going backstage to change or something.” Steve teases, eyes full of mirth and challenge.

Exactly Eddie’s type.

“And leave the three of you dressed up and feel out of place? Not a fucking chance.” Eddie takes a breath and goes for it, channeling his years of drama and general theatrics.

He goes to take his seat on the sofa and pretends to trip, his burlap bag tipping over in time for his onion to fall to the floor at Steve’s feet.

“Shit, sorry, that’s my onion,” Eddie shrugs. “Happens sometimes. Ogre and all, y’know? By the way, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” Chrissy mutters under her breath and ducks her head, leaning an elbow on Robin’s shoulder and covering her eyes.

Steve’s mouth falls open into a little O and sits quietly for a few beats, nothing but the girls chuckling off to the side and an onion between them. Eddie’s about to swallow his tongue and see himself out when Steve leans forward and picks it up, tossing it up in the air above his head and catching it like a baseball.

“Looks like you dropped this. And uh, thanks. I could say the same to you.”

Robin wheezes and doubles over. “Jesus Christ, Steve. I know I’m a lesbian and all but this? This is what works on you?”

Eddie likes her already, and a quick glance to Chrissy tells him Chrissy does, too.

“Is this Ogre discrimination? Do I have to explain that we have—”

“Layers!” Steve finishes for him, nudging her in the ribs. “Ogres have layers, Rob. Don’t be so close-minded, God. Besides, he’s half melted and just ransacked backstage for an onion. Don’t judge our mating rituals.”

Mating rituals? Eddie grins with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, what he said.”

Robin just shakes her head and gestures with one hand at the air between the two men, speechless.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if this sweaty, half-melted, babbling Onion Man wants to make out or something.” Steve slaps his hands on his thighs, still covered in fuzzy material, and stands. “What do you say?”

When he shows up backstage to introduce Steve to the rest of Corroded Coffin, both of their faces are now smeared with green paint and Steve sports painted handprints in some telling places.

Eddie gives them a bright smile and jazz hands, his friends’ expressions are as impressed as they are confused.

Shrek Night really is his favorite show of the year.

tagging people who expressed interest <3: @cuips-not-cute @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @useless-nb-bisexual @kkpwnall@cuoredimuschio @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly@ohmagicalunicornlord @hellion-child @bxnsheeslxdia @pomegranatebb @vampeddie @horsegirleddiemunson @stobinesque @sidekick-hero @medusapelagia @slipperygiraff @epiclazershark @bayouteche thank you to @nostalgicbones for beta-reading and inspiring this!

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #corroded coffin #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #buckingham if you squint #please consider reblogging if you enjoy <333 #(pls don't let this one flop i had so much fun writing it)

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