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keeryhours · 19 hours ago

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late night with the devil - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Hawkins may think your boyfriend and his friends are devil worshippers, but he’s still just your Eddie.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, weed use

Word Count: 3,653

A/N:

So so so excited to post my first Eddie fic! I hope you enjoy!

—

The people of Hawkins were convinced there were devil worshippers among you. Satanic Panic was in full swing, and the targets were right on your friends’ backs.

They had always been seen as Freaks, but the group of metalheads and their love for D&D were under real public scrutiny now. You knew your friends were good people, but now you were being warned to stay away from them by teachers, your parents forbidding you from ever seeing them again.

That’s how you found yourself crawling out of your bedroom window at 11:30pm, your parents long asleep. The wood of the window sill scratched against your arms painfully as you lowered yourself to the ground. You hissed when you landed on your feet, checking for any splinters. You brushed the dirt off your jeans.

Dry fallen leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through your yard. Reaching the front of the house, you grabbed your bike from against the garage. You hadn’t rode it much in the past couple years. Typically Eddie would pick you up in his van, or there was usually at least one person with a car in whatever friend group you hung out with. Obviously that wasn’t happening tonight.

You pedaled to Forest Hills, your anger at your parents only growing as you went. Anger at them for falling for this sensationalist crap, anger at them for turning on Eddie and your other friends when they knew they weren’t bad people. They may never have been Eddie’s biggest fans - they didn’t love that he was on his third senior year and had heard rumors about the small business he ran - but they didn’t have a real problem with him. But now they have let the news and gossip convince them that your boyfriend and your friends were evil.

You were still angry when you rolled past the park’s sign, but it faded as you made the remaining short distance to Eddie’s trailer. You spotted your boyfriend’s lanky legs in his ripped jeans immediately, sitting on the front steps. You climbed off your bike and leaned it against the side of the trailer as Eddie stood, a cigarette in his hand. You walked over to him, rushing into his arms when holds them open for you. You wrap your arms around his waist and he wraps his around your body, holding you close.

“I’m glad you got here okay,” Eddie said, and you could feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “I hate that I can’t just come get you.”

“I know. Me too.” You looked up at him and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled at him.

“Let me finish this and we can go inside.”

You and Eddie sat next to each other on the steps. He talked to you about his plans for his next D&D campaign as he smoked, you hanging on to every word. Eddie was so creative, and his campaigns were always so detailed. It felt like being told the world’s most interesting story.

When he finished his cigarette, Eddie tossed it aside and stood to his full height, holding out his hand for you. You took it with a smile and he pulled you to your feet with enough effort that you stumbled into his chest once you were up. Eddie laughed, putting his hands on your hips to steady you.

He ushered you into the trailer ahead of him. You had spent a lot of nights here since you and Eddie started hanging out, you always had it to yourselves since his uncle Wayne worked nights. It felt like having your own place together, sometimes.

You made yourself comfortable as usual, pulling a soda from the fridge. You giggled as you felt Eddie’s arms snaking around your waist from behind, curls tickling your face as he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses.

You hummed with a smile on your face as you popped open the can of soda and Eddie rocked you back and forth in his arms. “I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled against your skin. His leather jacket was cool against your arms.

Things had been difficult for Eddie since all this shit had started. He and his friends had always been outcasts, but now it was worse. Now you worried for their actual safety, constantly scared some hick will decide to take the “satan worshippers” into their own hands and do something crazy.

You spun around in his arms, your left arm draping over his shoulder while your right still held onto the cold can. Eddie smiled down at you with that grin that always gave you butterflies. His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips as they rested there.

“Do you want to smoke?” he asked, which brought a grin to your face.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, smiling up at your boyfriend’s tall frame.

He pulled away from you reluctantly with a last minute squeeze of your hip before he was bowing dramatically and rushing off back to his bedroom. You laughed as you drank your soda. You flopped down on the couch, kicking your feet up on the table, nearly knocking over an overly filled ashtray in the process.

Eddie was back shortly after, perfectly rolled joint in his hand as he collapsed on the couch next to you. You sat the can on the table as Eddie handed you the joint and a lighter with a flourish. “Ladies first.”

You plucked it from his hand with a smile, placing it between your lips and lighting it with Eddie’s lighter. Relaxation seems to wash over you immediately as you take a deep drag, holding the smoke in your lungs. You leaned back against the cushions as you let it out. Eddie’s hand absentmindedly played with your thigh as he watched you with interest.

“You’re so hot when you smoke,” he mumbled, and it made you giggle as you took your second hit.

“You are, too,” you said through the smoke and passed the joint to him. He laughed as he took it.

He put on a show for you as he took his turn, holding your eye contact as he inhaled and held the smoke. Then he was leaning forward, free hand cupping the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours and breathed the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled it, the smoke from Eddie’s own hit leaving your mouth as you exhaled. Eddie bit his lip as he watched you, a smirk on his pretty face, before he was hitting it again.

The two of you passed the joint back and forth until the roach was so small it was basically unsmokable. You were feeling infinitely more relaxed, sinking into the couch. Eddie always got extra talkative when he was high and this was no exception.

“So I told him,” Eddie said, head tilted back against the couch as he stared at the ceiling and talked with his hands. “I told him no, we could not reschedule the campaign. It’s the end of the campaign.” Eddie scoffed and looked at you like can you believe that?

You nodded at him, but you were having a hard time focusing on his words. Your brain was working so slow and he talked so fast. You felt some of the fogginess in your brain clear away at the feeling of his large hand on your thigh again. He rubbed it this time, trailing his hand higher and higher. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

He met your gaze with a smirk. He leaned in, his leather jacket audibly crinkling as he moved. You were relieved to feel his lips on yours again, the familiar feeling of his mouth working against yours, his tongue slipping between your lips. You hummed into the kiss, your hand resting on his chest.

“Wanna go to my room?” he asked you, low voice rumbling in his chest.

You nodded and Eddie wasted no time standing from the couch, reaching a hand out for you like a gentleman. You took his hand and he lifted you. He followed you to the back of the trailer where his bedroom was, slapping your ass as you walked. You laughed, turning around to give him a playful glare.

He closed the door to his bedroom behind you. You watched as he went straight for the stereo, putting on some Metallica. He turned around and gave you a mischievous look before he basically tackled you onto the bed, causing you to fall back onto the mattress, laughing hard. He lifted himself above you and you scooted back to lay against the pillows. Your body buzzed with anticipation.

Eddie shrugged his leather jacket off, dropping it to the floor. His ringed hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your calves to your thighs. You could tell he wanted it bad tonight by the dark look in his eyes, the way he stared at your body like he wanted to devour it.

He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that, too, his guitar pick necklace falling to rest against his bare chest. You rubbed your hands over the now exposed skin, feeling his firm chest, his sides, his soft belly. He sighed at the feeling.

“You’re so beautiful…” Eddie mumbled, hands still rubbing your thighs. His hands creeped forward until they reached the buttons of your jeans. You watched him intently as his long, dexterous fingers undid them with ease, pulling the material down your legs.

His hands slid up your shirt next, feeling how smooth your skin was always did something to him. He lifted your shirt as his hands traveled up until his fingers were grazing your bra. You sat up for him for a second so he could pull your shirt off.

Eddie took in the sight of you laying beneath him in only your underwear with hungry eyes. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you like this before, but it never got old. He never got used to it. His rings were cold against your skin as he felt all over your body, exploring at his own pace. You didn’t mind. It felt nice everywhere he touched you. You could see the bulge straining in his ripped jeans.

“Eddie…” you whined, causing him to break out of his trance and look up at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked as he kept rubbing his hands up and down your sides. It gave you goosebumps.

“Really want you…” you whined again, lips pouting. Eddie chuckled lowly at that, his fingers gripping your sides a little harder.

“Yeah? You want me?” he asked, looking at you with those dark eyes, laced with desire. Pupils blown wide in lust. Oh, Eddie wanted it bad. “Are you wet for me, baby?” His fingers traced your core over your underwear, finding the answer for himself. He smirked. “All for me?” he asked, eyes shooting up to meet yours.

“Yeah, all for you, Eddie,” you breathed, his light touch where you wanted him so badly driving you crazy. He pressed a little harder, right over your clit, and you cried out with a little “Ah!”

Eddie laughed that sinister sounding laugh once again, then his hands were sliding up your body and around your back, unhooking your bra and tossing it. His hands immediately found your tits, groping them like he was seeing them for the first time as he grinded his clothed hips against your wet panties. You could feel how hard he was even through the multiple layers.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, his voice so low you barely heard it. His thumb rubbed over your nipples before he started to roll and pinch them between his fingers. He leaned over, wrapping his mouth around one of them. He was moaning the second he got his lips on you, sucking your nipple into his mouth and running his tongue around it in circles. You arched up into him, only pushing your chest further into his face, which he appreciated.

He switched to your other breast to give that nipple equal attention. You moaned, pushing your hips up to press against him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. Eddie had you so turned on, you didn’t feel like you could wait another second.

When he pulled off of your nipple, he buried his face in your tits, using his hands to push them closer together around his face.

“I could live in here,” he said, voice muffled between them. You laughed hard, running your hands through his hair, giving him full body chills.

He pulled back to place hungry kisses over your chest and neck, biting and sucking against the sensitive pulse point, getting the reaction from you he wanted. You dug your nails into his back harder and he hissed.

“Need you now, Eds,” you begged, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. You needed him to fill you the way only he could.

He pulls back to look at you with those glazed over eyes. “You want my cock?” he asked, looking fully lost in the moment already.

“Yes,” you cried, rolling your hips up beneath him and trying to get him where you want him. Eddie took the hint and got on his knees between your legs. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and pulled them off slowly, savoring it.

He spread your legs wide, big brown eyes taking in the sight of your bare cunt laid out before him, all for him. “Oh, baby,” he groaned, reaching forward to trace a long finger through your folds. He held it up to show you just how wet you were before he popped it in his mouth, sucking it clean.

Eddie reached for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the belt loops before tossing it to the floor with a clang. He quickly undid his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down his legs, kicking them off. You moaned when his hard length was finally revealed, and he gave you a cocky smirk.

He leaned over your body again, kissing up your chest and neck to place a peck on your lips before he reached for the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a condom from the box. He sat back up on his knees and ripped the package open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his dick.

He stroked himself quickly a couple times then leaned over you, resting his weight on one forearm as his other hand lined the thick tip of his cock up right against your entrance. Your heart thudded hard in your chest at the feeling, you just wanted him inside you now.

Eddie began to push into you, eyes watching your face as every inch sinks into your warm, wet pussy, wrapping around him perfectly. He felt like he was in heaven, and he couldn’t hold back the groan that spilled from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt. Your hands dug into his skin even harder, holding onto him like you’d disappear if you let go.

He peppered kisses all over your face and neck as he let you get adjusted. He pulled his hips back slowly, then snapped them back into you, drawing a strangled cry from your lips.

“Eddie!” you cried, already feeling so much when he’d only just started. You felt your core tighten around him, holding him even tighter, and he hissed as he set a steady rhythm with his hips.

“God, I’ve barely even fucked you yet…” he mumbled, drinking in your already fucked-out expression and mouth hanging open. He couldn’t deny what the sight of you like this did to him, his cock growing impossibly harder inside of you, his balls tightening, and suddenly he worried he’d cum way too fast like he did your first time together. You hadn’t minded, but he had been humiliated, and he didn’t want a repeat.

Eddie rolled his hips against you at the perfect pace. You tangled your hands in his wild hair and pulled him down to kiss you again, which he did eagerly, tongue in your mouth immediately as he tangled with yours and kissed you hungrily.

He groaned into your mouth as he sped up his pace, thoroughly pounding into you now. The sounds of the two of you - skin slapping together, bed creaking, your moans and grunts and whines and whimpers - filled the room, nearly as loud as the heavy music playing over his speakers. It drove Eddie even more wild.

He sat back up on his knees, grabbing onto your hips with a bruising grip and lifting them higher as he began fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts. You nearly screamed, the intense way his cockhead was ruthlessly pressing against your bundle of nerves with every thrust making you see stars in your vision.

“Fuck, you like that?” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth, his curls bouncing with every wild thrust into you.

“Feels so good,” you managed to say between moans, hands tangling in the sheets since you can’t comfortably grab onto some part of his body right now, even though that’s what you want.

And it did feel incredible. Your mind was fuzzy and you weren’t sure anymore if it was from the weed or Eddie’s dick. You felt your release building inside you already.

“Fuck yeah it does,” Eddie spits out, and he looks like he’s lost in his own pleasure as his eyes fall closed and his mouth parts, grunts falling from his pretty lips with every brutal thrust. His head falls back and he uses his hands to help pull you against him to meet the thrusts of his own hips, making it even more intense, which you didn’t think was possible.

He looked back down at your body, one hand leaving your hip to rub circles on your clit with his thumb. The sudden sensation made you cry out with a high pitched “Oh!”, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie pushed you to the brink with calculated precision. He hadn’t been experienced when you had gotten together, but damn if he wasn’t a ridiculously quick learner.

He could feel you tightening around him, pussy gripping him so good he felt like he might fall apart right then and there. He cursed under his breath, hips moving a little faster as he pushed you to your release. “Yeah, cum on my cock baby, please, need to feel you making a mess all over me.” Eddie was practically begging as he spoke, desperate to make you cum so he could stop holding back.

“I…gonna cum, Eddie, oh shit-“

A proud smile spread across Eddie’s lips as you came undone for him, watching your pretty face twist in ecstasy as you moaned like his little slut, crying out his name over and over. It was music to his ears, and you were a sight for sore eyes as you utterly fell apart. More than anything, the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around him from your orgasm pushed him over the edge and into his own.

Eddie laid his body over yours the second your high subsided. He grabbed your hands and lifted them over your head, intertwining your fingers with his, and he kissed you hard as it finally hit him. Hard.

Eddie whimpered against your lips before letting out a long, low groan, muscles clenching and body trembling as he finished inside you, spilling into the condom. He kept pumping in shallow thrusts until he had spilled every last drop, his body completely spent as he came harder than he ever does on his own.

He didn’t move as you both caught your breath. Eddie’s body felt weak, like he had used every bit of energy he had. Finally he works up the effort to roll off of you, pecking your lips before he does. You hear him as he pulls the condom off, tying it up and throwing it in the trash can before he’s sliding up against you and wrapping his arm around your waist, your naked bodies pressed together.

You turned on your side and he spooned against you, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece. His hair tickled your shoulders as he placed kisses to the backs of them before laying his head down against you.

“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. You could tell he wouldn’t stay awake much longer. He had been thoroughly worn out.

“I love you too,” you said back, fingers gently rubbing his hand that was pressed right above your navel.

He hummed contentedly, and you pulled the blankets over the both of you. You had no desire to get out of his bed, to leave his warm embrace. Wayne never cared if you stayed over, and you figured you could sneak back into your own room before your parents noticed in the morning.

You really weren’t concerned with the logistics right now. This was the only place you wanted to be, and you didn’t care about anything else.

You felt your eyes beginning to grow heavy. Your eyes roamed over the familiar bedroom, messy as usual. You looked at his guitar hanging on the wall, the only other lady you’d ever have to share his heart with. Your gaze wandered to the bedside table, a polaroid of the two of you together on display for him to look at every night before he goes to sleep and every morning when he wakes up.

Eddie made you feel so loved and cared for. You hoped you made him feel the same.

You snuggled deeper into the warmth of his arms. You loved your boyfriend. Whether everyone in town thought he was the devil or not.

#eddie munson #eddie #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #joseph quinn #keeryhours writes #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine

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helen-with-an-a · 24 hours ago

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how was amor and alexia’s dynamics post-world cup final? Amor definitely was in starting 11 and would definitely be devastated

Ok so I answer this separately in another post but with the Documentary that came out I wanted to talk about Amor’s part of the La 15 and the Jenni/RFEF/Rubiales stuff

Right off the bat, Amor wasn’t in the documentary - there was a small clip used when the documentary highlighted the support for Jenni across the world but it was max 10 seconds of an interview she did.

But Amor was there for all of it though - she was first told about the abuse from Irene. Alexia was determined to keep Amie away from the RFEF but she would always come back from camp so different and Amor just wanted to know why. After she heard Ale crying in the shower just before the Euro prep camp, she decided she needed to speak to someone and that was Irene.

Amor made sure she stood with Ale and all of her other Barça teammates and friends throughout the La 15 issues and became a frequent visitor for Mapí, Patri, Lelia, Paños, Aitana and Pina (especially Pina) but she never spoke for them. If she was ever asked (or hounded) she would always remember to support them but never speak for them - she never wanted to bring attention onto her or make it seem like she was speaking for them

After the World Cup, Amor went to Ibiza with the girls and she was the one to outright tell Jenni she had experienced sexual assault.

Amor was an absolute rock for all of the girls in the national squad and was definitely someone that would listen without judgement (especially for Laia and some of the other Barça girls that felt conflicted about the squad)

She only cried once when she was away with England

It was after an interview she had with the BBC about the WC and events afterwards and she was trying so hard to keep it together

She got back to her room and just broke down and she was sharing a room with Georgia Stanway and Gee freaked out and ran to get Lucy and Keira and they all just held her and supported her as absolutely sobbed

She swore them to total secrecy but now Lucy, Keira and Georgia keep a closer eye on her than before

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 days ago

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Regrets & Apologies -Oneshot

Word count: 2338

“For fuck’s sake Bucky,” Y/N huffed, running her hands through her hair. “I understand that you feel protective over me, and I love and appreciate that about you, but my god if you follow me to the grocery store again–”

“So sue me if I’m worried about you,” Bucky retorted angrily. “If the wrong people were to find out you’re with me–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said. “Stop it. I don’t want to have this conversation again. You are a free man, in both mind and body. And in case you forgot, I can take care of myself,” she said, holding her hand up as a ball of fire emitted from her palm briefly before closing her fingers around it, making it disappear.

“I know you can,” Bucky groaned.

“Then you obviously don’t trust me enough to do it,” Y/N said sadly. “And I don’t know what’s worse: being tailed at all times because you don’t trust other people, or knowing you don’t trust me to be able to handle danger by myself. You know what? Never mind, the second one is worse,” she sniffled, her emotions getting the best of her. “You’ve seen me in the field, and you still don’t believe in me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “No, no that’s not it at all.”

Y/N shook her head and shut her eyes tight. “I can’t do this. I’m taking a walk.” She turned and started heading for the elevator.

Bucky was angry, and now hurt, and reacted badly. “Fine, go run away from handling our problems!”

“I don’t have a problem, Barnes,” Y/N shot back at him, punching the elevator button then walking inside, turning to look at him with near-literal fire in her eyes. “It’s just you.”

Her glare haunted him as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone on their shared floor. Bucky tried to breathe evenly, the panic setting in at not being near her. He knew he had a problem, he just wasn’t willing to admit it. Ever since they had first started dating each other his protectiveness had kicked into overdrive, making him follow her while she was out running errands to make sure she was okay, constantly checking in, and even worse, getting in the way on missions because he wouldn’t leave her side. She was well trained and had her powers to protect her, yet he for some reason was constantly on edge and afraid of losing her to something in his past. God I need more therapy, he thought. He paced back and forth in their apartment, trying to let her go on that walk alone. They both needed space to cool off and think. He had to let her be. He had to show her he could trust her. Bucky let out a loud yell in frustration and holed himself away in their room.

***

2 hours later

“Doll, I’m sorry, please come back home. Let’s talk about this.”

***

4 hours later

“Okay, I’m trying not to freak out, but you need to text or call and let me know you’re okay. Where are you?”

***

7 hours later

Bucky was rocking back and forth on their bed, holding himself as he held his phone tight in his flesh hand, waiting for it to ring or buzz. It was almost 11:00 at night, and he hadn’t heard from her. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal, even during a fight. She would at least let him know where she was and that she was safe, even if she didn’t plan to come back that night. He felt like he was in withdrawal, the unknown eating away at his heart by the second.

The phone rang and he nearly threw it from how bad it scared him, but he quickly answered it. “Doll? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Is this James Barnes?” A voice said.

Bucky froze. “Yes.”

“This is Dr. Harris at Mount Sinai Hospital. Miss Y/N Y/L/N is here. She just went into surgery after being struck by a car in downtown Manhattan.” Bucky gasped, a chill running down his spine. “You’re listed as her emergency contact. I would suggest coming down as soon as possible.”

“I’m coming now. Doc, how bad is it?” he asked hesitantly.

“She was stable going into surgery.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer for him, but he choked back a sob in relief that she was at least still alive and fighting. “I’ll be there soon,” he said quickly, then hung up. Bucky ran through their floor, gathering things for himself and for Y/N, then had Friday inform the other Avengers about what was going on. When he reached the parking garage he flung the duffle onto his back and hopped on his motorcycle, revving out like a bat out of hell. He reached the hospital in record time, parking then running inside inhumanly fast.

Bucky dashed to the receptionist desk. “Y/N Y/L/N, just got into surgery, what floor is that on?” he barked at the receptionist.

“Visiting hours are over, sir,” the receptionist said, barely glancing at him.

Bucky smacked his metal arm onto the counter, making it crack and she jumped and stared at him. She seemed to recognize him and shrunk back when she saw the metal hand. “Floor number. Now,” he demanded.

“Four,” she whispered.

Bucky gave her a curt nod then ran over to the elevator. He pushed the button and took the elevator up to the fourth floor, his entire body feeling jittery with anxiety. When the doors opened he ran down the hall to the second reception area. “Y/N Y/L/N, in surgery. Dr. Harris called me?” he huffed at the nurse.

The nurse’s eyebrows raised in recognition then turned and picked up a phone, dialing a number. “Dr. Harris? Y/N Y/L/N’s emergency contact is here.” He hung up the phone and turned to Bucky. “He’ll be right out.”

Bucky nodded and stepped back towards the chairs in the waiting area in front of the reception desk. A couple of minutes later a man came walking down the hall. “Sergeant Barnes?” he asked Bucky.

“Dr. Harris?” Bucky replied.

Dr. Harris shook his hand. “She’s still in surgery. They’re fixing a major fracture in her tibia, along her shin. Otherwise she was really lucky with a minorly fractured collarbone. No other injuries.”

Bucky sighed, his jaw tightening. “That’s…that’s good. What happened?”

Dr. Harris minutely shrugged. “From what the paramedics said, she was in a crosswalk and some idiot came barreling around the corner through the red light.”

“Were they caught?” Bucky nearly growled.

“Yes. They had the good sense to not hit and run,” Dr. Harris said.

Bucky nodded. “Okay, good. So…what now?”

“She’ll be in a boot for six months, and she’ll need a wheelchair then crutches during that time until she heals enough to walk. Her collarbone will be set with her arm in a sling, and that’ll take about 10-12 weeks. It’ll be a lot of physical therapy and patience, and she’ll need a lot of help.”

“No problem. She has plenty of help,” Bucky said quickly. “When will she be out of surgery?”

“Should only be about another hour,” Dr. Harris said, glancing at his watch. “The surgeon will come out when it’s over and give you an update, then when she’s put in a room for recovery you can see her.”

Bucky nodded again and thanked him before Dr. Harris walked back down the hall. Bucky paced the waiting room for another few minutes, his phone pinging over and over again with texts and calls coming in. He finally sat down then started answering the messages, giving the Avengers reaching out to him an update. When he was done he leaned back in the chair, his head thudding against the wall. He fought back tears, but a few fell through his tightly shut eyes. He was feeling a million things at once, unsure of what emotion was going to win out in the end. Was she distracted from their fight that she didn’t see or hear the car coming? Or was the driver just an idiot, like Dr. Harris said? He’d never forgive himself if he was to blame for this, even partially.

***

An hour later Y/N was out of surgery. Bucky was now surrounded by the rest of the Avengers, waiting to hear anything. A different doctor came walking out of the double doors down the hallway and Bucky immediately stood and walked over to her. “How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Y/N is doing great,” the surgeon said with a smile. “Her leg was set beautifully, and the collarbone was a lot more minor than we thought. She’s in recovery right now. We’ll monitor her there for about half an hour then we’ll be moving her to a room. The reception nurse will tell you which one soon.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said and shook her hand.

Forty five minutes later the nurse directed him to her room. Bucky jogged to the room number and walked in as another nurse was getting Y/N set up. The nurse gave him a short, polite smile. “The anesthesia will take a little longer to wear off. She should wake up soon.”

Bucky thanked the nurse as they walked out, and he walked over to Y/N. She was hooked up to multiple machines, tubes sticking out from her hands and one hooked into her nose. She was sleeping soundly, and his heart broke as he looked over the bruising peeking out from her hospital gown near her collarbone, her left arm in a sling. He slowly lifted the blanket covering her legs and saw the boot on her left leg, the skin looking badly bruised and scraped up by her knee. He set the blanket down and pulled up a chair by the wall to her right side, sitting down and reaching for her hand, holding it firmly. All the emotions came flooding back and he started crying as he looked up at her face.

“Babydoll,” Bucky sniffled. “My babydoll.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, holding her palm up to his face. “Please wake up. We need to talk about all this, and get over it, just like we always do. Please? Please…”

“Buck.”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he saw her eyes fluttering open. “Y/N?” he whispered, standing up and looking at her.

Y/N’s head turned to look at him, making her wince. “What happened?” she asked.

Bucky sighed heavily. “Do you remember anything?” he asked.

Y/N frowned, blinking slowly. “I was walking. Then I heard tires screeching. Then…pain,” she said.

Bucky nodded. “You were hit by a car,” he said, his hand reaching up and tucking her hair back. “Some idiot turned the corner too fast and was not paying attention.” Y/N frowned deeper, then tried to sit up, gasping at the pain. “Woah, babydoll, no no no. You’ve got a minor fracture in your collarbone, and a broken leg. You need to stay still.”

Y/N’s head leaned back as she hissed through her teeth. “Well that sucks,” she groaned.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “I know. But I’m gonna be here to help you every step of the way.”

Y/N relaxed against the bed and looked up at him sadly. “I’m sorry. About the fight earlier. And that I didn’t answer your texts.”

Bucky shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry. You were right, I’ve been way too overprotective, and it made me not trust you to take care of yourself. Though, in my defense, you did just get hit by a car while I wasn’t around to help you.”

Y/N grinned, biting back a laugh. “True. But you can’t always be my hero. Life happens. Shit like this happens, no matter what we do to try and stay safe. You have to trust me enough to know that I’m going to do my best to come home to you.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he fought back more tears. “I know, I’ll work on it. I promise.” They stared at each other for another moment before Bucky leaned forward and nuzzled her nose with his. “For now, just kiss me once, then I’ll kiss you twice, then kiss me once again.”

Y/N hummed at his song reference. “It’s been a long, long time,” she whispered before angling her head up and kissing him softly.

***

“This is so humiliating. Every single time,” Y/N griped, holding onto Bucky’s arms as he helped lift her carefully into the bathtub, keeping her left leg that was wrapped in saran wrap above the water.

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, Y/N,” Bucky said as he eased her down, making sure to prop the broken leg over the edge of the tub before grabbing the soap and lathering his hands. He reached out and started at her legs first, making sure to get all the little nooks and crannies up her body as he washed her.

“Well, I’m embarrassed,” Y/N said with an annoyed tone.

“You’re healing really well, but it’s only been three months. Tibia fractures take up to–” “Six months to heal, yes, thank you Dr. Barnes,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Possibly longer. I get it.” Bucky sighed and gave her an arched eyebrow. Y/N’s face softened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know you’re frustrated, doll,” Bucky said, pulling her arms apart so he could wash her stomach and up her chest. “But you know I don’t mind helping you. None of us do. And this, especially, is my favorite helpful thing to do,” he smirked as his hands washed over her breasts.

“You’re shameless,” Y/N laughed, swatting at his hands.

“But you love me,” Bucky said, leaning forward and kissing her.

Y/N kissed him back. “Yes, I do.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #request #ask #anon ask

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biibini · 2 days ago

Text

nsfw ghostface!mizu

“what’s the matter sidney? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: mdni , 18+ , modern!mizu with ghostface twist , fem! reader, ghostface!mizu , eating out for a hot moment, death , kisses, alternative motives , so bad yet so hot typa moment

a/n: am i late to this? yes. did this come to me during class? yes. happy late halloween and welcome back to mizu brain rot town ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚

ghostface!mizu would easily find your place since silly you picked up the phone every time it rang and answering with a sweet “hello”.

ghostface!mizu quietly crawls into your bedroom without a single creak while you were busy talking to her on the hallway phone downstairs.

ghostface!mizu finds it cute how you’re blindly answering her questions about yourself, what you were doing tonight, what you liked to do, favorite color, etc. she knew you were lying through your teeth, but man, did it sound so pathetic and cute to hear your lies.

ghostface!mizu hums to every response with a “mhm” while watching your every move from your bedroom upstairs, gauging your reaction every time she hummed in response,.

ghostface!mizu sees your finger twirl around the phone line, playing with the wire, smiling down on the floor when you continue to go on and on about yourself.

“It’s such a boring color, I know, but it’s my favorite!”, you state, continuing to play with the phone line. You teasingly accuse her, “You’re asking all these questions about me, yet I don’t even know who you are!”,

Mizu watches you talk into the phone, hearing your playful voice tease her, practically begging for a sliver of her.

“You wanna know about me?”, she coos back, mirroring your energy.

“Mmhm”, you answer, nodding in response, “Who is my mysterious caller?”

“Someone who’s interested in you.”

She gauges your reaction from above. You swing your leg back and forth, grinning at the floor again. You look up from the hallway tile floor, blush spreading across your cheeks.

“You’re…”, you lower you voice, almost whispering, “interested in me?”

Mizu hums again. Deep. Almost sweet as honey.

A little curious, she pushed for more.

“Why? You got a boyfriend waiting for your call?”, Mizu teases, pulling out her weapon, sharp and ready for murder.

“No, no girlfriend or anything.”

Oh.

Mizu freezes in place, completely taken aback by that response.

“Didn’t think I was into girls?”

Your voice rings in her head. Mizu snaps out of it, sheathing the blade as she peeks to see your reaction. You’re still standing in the empty hallway, smiling and continuing to twiddle with the phone, just waiting to be caught.

ghostface!mizu now even more interested in you, continues to toy and tease you over the phone, overwhelming you with interest.

ghostface!mizu positions herself by your window, ready to knock at your window as you continued to stick by the hallway phone.

“No, I just wanted to get to know who I’m looking at.”, she answers in a snarky tone.

Mizu looks down at you, squinting to get a closer look as your eyes widen, quickly darting around to find a sign of a living being. You grip the hallway phone for safety, scanning your surroundings before you speak into the device again.

“What did… you say?”

A shiver crawls up your spine. You heard that correctly, right?

Covered by the mask, a devilish smile spreads across Mizu’s face.

“I just wanted to get to know who I’m talking to.”

Deep down, your gut instantly knew that was not what she originally said.

“You... you didn’t say that.”, you point out as you double check your surroundings.

"You sure?"

From a late-night call to a creepy conversation, you were freaked out. It was all fun and games lying about your "favorite" activities, but this was getting a little too real. Being alone didn’t help your case, as you were now talking to a random stranger turned stalker.

On the other hand, Mizu stayed silent, watching you go crazy from above for the past 15 minutes. Mizu unsheathes her weapon, a silver blade that glistened a blue tint against the moonlight.

As fun as toying with you was, playtime’s over.

You hear a tap to the rhythm of "shave and a haircut" come from upstairs. You look up as you watch a door hang ajar, slightly swaying to the wind, its whistle now clear to you.

That was your bedroom. Your bedroom window to be exact.

"Your girlfriend is calling you.", you hear through the phone, teasing you. It's a much lower tone than the teasing voice you were talking to only 5 minutes ago.

You quickly smash the phone down, hoping it was just a prank call trying to creep random people out.

ghostface!mizu awaits in her hiding spot, waiting for your next move, as the whisper of the wind fills the silence.

ghostface!mizu rings your home phone once again, hearing the rings echo throughout the house. she takes another peek on you again to find you staring at the phone, ringing and ringing in front of you.

ghostface!mizu grins to watch you slowly reach for the phone, hesitating to pick it up and hear her voice again.

"Your girlfriend is waiting for your call."

You feel that same shiver crawl down your spine. Your gut is screaming one thing to your head: You're not alone.

You feel a pair of eyes watching you behind your back. Turning around, you only find darkness in your empty house.

Just put down the phone. Just put that shit down.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you.", the voice orders through the speaker.

You slowly pull the phone away, regardless of the warning, your eyes carefully watching outlines of the outside through the glass of the front door.

"I said don't hang up on me."

"And why should I listen?", you yell back.

Enough of these stupid games. Kids need fucking hobbies-

"Because I'm right behind you."

What.

ghostface!mizu is careful and quiet. so quiet that while you were distracted by the front door, you failed to check your blindspot: the staircase hidden in the dark.

ghostface!mizu holds the knife to your neck, letting the warmth of your body borderline bleed against the silver blade. smiling at her capture, she locks your right shoulder in place.

ghostface!mizu gets a closer look at you through the hallway mirror. not bad looking at all... maybe even one of the better-looking prey she's caught. it also helped you were wearing a little slip dress. you might as well have been wearing nothing.

"What do you want from me?"

"We can figure that out upstairs, pretty girl."

ghostface!mizu pushes you upstairs, step by step, the blade's tip teasing against the thin silk fabric, waiting for you to disobey her at every step you take

ghostface!mizu roughly pushes you onto your bed, her hands burning up in her glove as you look up in fear, maybe even in awe. Geez, you had prettier eyes than most she's seen this night.

"I'll do anything, just let me go to bed, please.", you beg.

It's sick, really. First, this random stranger talks and lowkey flirts with you, practically terrorizing you, and now they've locked the door and blocked the only exit, all the while calling you a pretty girl. You shouldn't even be remotely attracted to this person.

You feel their gloved hand, cruelly squeezing your burning cheeks. It's nasty how your stomach twists in fear... and attraction to their touch. Forced to look up at Mizu, you see a glimpse of their eyes through the mask.

Alluring ocean blue shining in the moonlight, focused, steady, patiently waiting for one wrong move from you.

"Anything?", Mizu coos, tilting her head as the blade presses down on your neck, letting go of your face as she forces you to lay down. Staring up, you let the moonlight help you assess your supposed killer.

Black from top to bottom, compression shirt emphasizing her lean body, prominent muscles down to the hips, and black baggy sweatpants to match.

You feel a knee in between your legs, pushing them apart. The mask inching so close to your face that you feel her breath.

"Be a good girl, will you?"

Deep down, you know you should be running away, planning to jump out the window, anything to escape. Yet the way their gloved hands caressed your cheeks, as the other hand rested the blade on your neck, made your stomach twist in a despicably good way.

You couldn't deny that her voice was enticing earlier, teasing you and playing along during your time on the phone together. You knew that was the core reason you kept up the act.

Well, that and the fact that she called you pretty.

Your body turning cold, you hummed in response.

"I w-will.", you say as you feel her knee gently hit your entrance.

It didn't help that you weren't wearing anything underneath that slip of yours.

You watched the masked figure slowly go down your body, one hand gently caressing your side, cupping your boob and squeezing it in pleasure, while the other dragged along your side, reminding you of the consequences of disobedience. They stop at your entrance, warm and dripping wet.

"You promise?", she teases, her knee further pushing against your dripping cavern.

Nodding profusely, Mizu hid the knife under the bed, as she pulled your body closer to her in hopes of getting all of your juices.

"I promise- ah..."

ghostface!mizu is glad you're such a pretty victim, obeying her every order as she scrunched up the lower half of your slip, gaining access to your dripping entrance, lapping in hopes of not leaving a single drop go to waste.

ghostface!mizu gauges your reaction as she enters one finger inside, and then two, and then three. every time, you always surprise her with how loud you get with every new digit entering your gummy walls. she gets even excited when you yelp at every time your fingers curl.

ghostface!mizu patiently waits for your hips to start acting out against your twisted, messed-up mind. with every squeeze of your hips, you feel them move on their own against her tongue, reaching deeper with every thrust in and out as she strategically placed her hands on your hips, guiding them along the way.

ghostface!mizu pulls back from the grinding to blow against your clit, making your cries 10x louder, before going back to face grinding

ghostface!mizu goes back for seconds, forgetting about her victim's death as her tongue swirled around your stimulated clit, making your head confuse itself in the chaos, fear, and pleasure of it all.

ghostface!mizu looks above to watch your chest fall up and down with every flick of her tongue, further pushing her to bring you close to your orgasm. she feels your entrance continue to pour out liquid, lubricating your burning hot entrance as your hips rode the lower half of her face. her upper half manages to keep the mask on.

ghostface!mizu feels your hips slow down, thus moving you back down on the bed. what she doesn't realize is you kissing her in the process, sharing the stickiness with you.

ghostface!mizu pauses in front of you, cursing to herself how pretty you are, before tearing off the mask completely and going back for another kiss, needy for your touch as the knife dances down your spine.

"You're being so good for me, angel.", Mizu coos, deepening the kiss with you.

Pulling away from the kiss, you feel the sharp point of the dagger poking your back.

"What a shame, you're just so delicious pretty girl."

The sharp pain of something entering behind you takes over, distracting you from the sweet talk you witnessed in front of you. As you push forward, your lips lock with hers one last time, before you feel a gush of liquid run outside your back.

You pull away one last time, getting a glimpse of her devilish smile sprawled across her face, and her eyes glowing in the midnight, before blacking out to your death.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu headcanons #mizu x y/n #modern mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #ghostface #ghost face au #scream #slashers

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sugdenlovesdingle · 2 days ago

Note

TK and Carlos meet Tommy and Buck for the first time since the crossover episode

I'm not that good with crossovers but I hope you like it

---

"So you met them fighting wildfires here in Texas? When we live in the wildfire state?" Tommy asked as they drove through down town Austin.

Buck shrugged.

"It was pretty bad. They needed all the help they could get." he quickly glanced at Tommy "Hen and TK's captain actually went missing. Their helicopter crashed. We stole a fire truck to rescue them."

"You seem to do a lot of that, don't you? I'm kind of hurt you've never stolen one for me." Tommy teased.

"Next time I steal a truck, I promise it'll be for you." Evan vowed and held up two fingers. "Scout's honour."

Tommy laughed.

"That doesn't count if you were never actually a boyscout."

"How do you know I was never a scout? I had a lot of hobbies as a kid."

"Hmm. I know. But Maddie would have shown me the pictures by now if you had."

Evan tilted his head in his direction to signal he had a point.

"I'm sure you would have been adorable in the uniform." Tommy told him and brushed a kiss over the knuckles of Evan's hand he was holding.

"Damn right I would have!" he joked as he pulled into a free parking space near an apartment building. "Ok this should be it." He double checked the address as they walked up to the front door. He was excited to meet up with TK again but also slightly nervous. "We've kept in touch via insta and text and stuff." he told Tommy. "But I've never actually met his husband. I was supposed to go to their wedding... but then I got struck by lightning."

"Which seems like a valid reason to skip a wedding." Tommy said, taking his hand. "But you are the most accident prone person I know. Even if you were a cat your nine lives would be close to running out by now." he joked.

Just as Evan was about to ring the doorbell, someone called out his name behind them.

They turned around and saw a guy of around Evan's age in some kind of uniform walk up to them, with a large Bernese Mountain Dog happily following behind.

"TK! Hey! Good to see you, man." Tommy hung back as Evan let go of his hand to hug his friend. "Are we early?" he gestured at TK's uniform.

"No, don't worry about it, it's fine. I just took Buttercup out for a walk first before we went up."

"Is he yours?" Tommy asked, scratching the dog behind its ears as it sniffed his pockets.

"My dad's. But he's away visiting family for a couple of days so he stays with us." TK explained. "And you must be Buck's hot pilot."

Tommy laughed and shook TK's hand while Evan's face turned an adorable shade of pink.

"Just Tommy is fine." He said and turned to Evan. "Just how many people have you told about me as the hot pilot?"

"I...Well... I just... I mean... Y-you are a hot pilot." Evan stammered.

"Hey, I get it." TK said, patting his shoulder. "I married a cowboy and a cop in one. A very hot one too."

They followed TK into the building and they took the lift up to their floor.

"Carlos is making ropa vieja from his grandmother's recipe. He's planned a whole three course meal."

"You didn't have to go through all of this trouble for us." Evan said but TK waved his comment away before opening a sliding door. "It's fine. He loves to cook. Babe, I ran into Buck and Tommy downstairs."

An attractive man Tommy recognised from the pictures Evan had shown him, came to greet them at the door. He kissed TK and unclipped the dog's leash before turning to Buck and Tommy.

"Hey guys, come on in. I'm Carlos, TK's husband. Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Both of you."

"I might have called TK for advice when I was freaking out before our first date." Evan explained.

"And looking at you two now, it was pretty good advice." TK pointed out and ushered them further into the loft.

The place was nice. Stylish yet homey at the same time. TK quickly changed out of his uniform while Buttercup decided Tommy was his new favourite person in the world and draped himself over his lap, and Evan ended up helping Carlos in the kitchen.

"Just push him away if he bothers you." TK gestured to the dog staring lovingly at Tommy while he pet him. "He can get a little clingy."

"It's fine, I don't mind. Our neighbours had a Saint Bernard when I was a kid, I was always over at their place to play with it. This one brings back memories, don't you buddy?" he directed the last part at Buttercup before glancing around the loft again, eyes landing on a large terrarium. "What's in there?" he asked and TK's eyes lit up.

"That. is Lou. Louis the second. He's our lizard. Well... bearded dragon." TK stood up and opened the terrarium, moving a few things around, and lifting a lizard up out of it. "Carlos bought him for me, even though he's scared of him."

"I'm not scared of Lou. I just didn't want a wild flesh eating lizard loose in our apartment."

"I feel like there's a story there." Tommy prompted.

"Carlos is overreacting." TK insisted but didn't elaborate."Lou is actually really friendly and smart. And he likes Buttercup."

"And Buttercup was scared of him the first time they met." Carlos added.

Tommy listened to TK talk about the bearded dragon and made a mental note to look into where and how to possibly get one in LA. He'd have to talk to Evan about it but he had a feeling he'd be on board.

They spent the rest of the night swapping work stories while enjoying their dinner, and making plans for the rest of Buck and Tommy's time in Austin.

"I'll text you the details for that club I mentioned. You can meet the rest of our friends." TK promised Buck as he and Carlos walked him and Tommy to the door.

"And we'll meet in the park at noon tomorrow for the yoga class. I have an extra mat if you need it." Carlos told Tommy. The two had discovered a mutual love for yoga and agreed to go to Carlos' regular class together.

"And we can sit back and enjoy the view." TK said, bumping his shoulder against Buck's. "I'll bring virgin mojitos."

#jonathanbayleaf #bucktommy #tarlos

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salubriwrites-blog · 2 days ago

Text

First Date with Andrealphus: The Christmas Village

Hi. I needed to write something cute, so I did. Christmas time is usually an explosion of the 5 senses, and I really wanted to dip a little into an excursion when you help Andrealphus experience something for the first time. Some of the dialogue is based off of his lobby interactions with you.

I love this little man I would do anything for him.

“How do I look?”

“Good!”

Dawning silence, Bathin elbowed his brother hard in the ribs, and Gusion sighed dramatically. “You don’t look like a maniac with all the blood and feathers in your hair. I can barely tell that you have the scars, you might actually wanna- here, just wear these. They’ll hide your eyes.”

“What are- oh, thank you,” Andrealphus laughed awkwardly, touching the frames that Bathin set on his nose. Needing to feel them to understand, the devil ran his fingers over the slim glasses, clumsily rubbing the lens as he did so. Bathin took the glasses off his face to clean them.

“Just don’t touch them and you’ll be okay.”

“Am I ready? Has he given us the sign yet?” Andrealphus asked now, doing a nervous turn with his arms outstretched to feel for collisions.

“No word yet,” Bathin said, staring at his phone while Andrealphus began to pace, holding his hands out to navigate the unfamiliar room. They were in Gusion’s home, which was cramped and filled with books. It was a far cry from the bare bones apartment Andrealphus lived in, with minimal furniture that he knew approximate locations of. Navigating slowly, he paced while running his hands through his hair. Bathin and Gusion were in charge of dressing and preening Andrealphus, scrubbing the blood and gore off his body and brushing the snarls from his hair. Meanwhile Beleth took point in distracting his Lord Majesty. He hadn’t told anyone exactly what that distraction was going to be, just to be patient.

Technically Belphegor was not aware of what Andrealphus was going to be doing with you that evening. Much less that the two of you were about to leave Hell. His Lord Majesty was strict when it came to letting his underlings out of his sight. Other kingdoms in Hell had need for the capable warriors, and a portion of his wealth and weight among the Princes came from Andrealphus and his brothers, cash cow butchers. The devils of Niflheim were formidable opposition to heavenly warriors, and Belphegor guarded them jealously. You were no exception to the rule, and when his Lord Majesty denied your request to have one of his great fighters accompany you beyond the veil.

“I’m homesick, and it’s a very special time of year on Earth.” Andrealphus could see the desperation in your eyes just from the way you spoke. “There are no better warriors in all of Hell, he makes me feel safe… please, name your price. Just a few hours of his time, you wouldn’t even know he was gone.”

“Andrealphus does not perform escort duties,” Belphegor said stiffly, and the devil could feel a hand being pushed against his chest to stop him from correcting the Prince of Sloth. “You are loved by Satan, ask him to put together an entourage for you if you wish to return to Earth so badly.”

The butcher heard your blood quicken in your veins at that remark, he could hear your anger. You would have had better luck talking to a brick wall than Belphegor as he slouched in his seat. “I don’t want an entourage from Gehenna, I want Andrealphus.” He could hear the air being cut by your hand as you swung to point at the devil. No one knew the logic behind your decision, you two had only met in a few freak accidents in Tartaros. The discussion had never evolved beyond, “did they hurt you?” and “Stand behind me, no one will harm you.”

Rumor had traveled far across the kingdoms of Hell that Satan and Mammon were spoiling you rotten, yielding to your every command. Either because of your unstoppable charisma or a testament to their weakness, no one knew for sure. Whatever it was that was swaying the minds of the Princes across Hell, Belphegor would not fall for it.

As you turned to leave, Andrealphus felt your eyes on him, and though he had to remain solid, he could hear the scheme brewing in your determined sigh. Almost a month’s worth of secret letter exchanges between his brothers, and encouragement that Andrealphus be on his best behavior, led to the invitation. That you wanted Andrealphus to be your date to Earth. All of the different verbiage circulating around his duty that evening confused the devil. Belphegor had used words like “entourage”, you had requested a companion, and not Gusion was telling him that you had asked him to be your date.

Preparing for tonight, they had to keep all of those words in mind. Bathin had dressed Andrealphus into something unassuming and charming, while Gusion sharpened and slipped a sword into the butcher’s hand. He was dressed to woo you and decapitate angels if necessary..

“It’s time,” Bathin said suddenly, and before Andrealphus knew it a pair of hands were picking him up by his elbows. “He’s asleep.”

Everything about this was absurd, from the way that Gusion and Bathim had to practically carry Andrealphus out so that he wouldn’t bump into anything, to Belphegor’s snores. They reverberated through the stone facades of the halls, rumbling like thunder and quaking the floors. When his Lord Majesty was asleep, all of Niflheim knew it, and by the sound of it the Prince of Sloth was lost in an early hibernation.

Acrid cigarette stench met the trio as Beleth stood by the front gate leading out of the castle. Andrealphus’ stomach clenched when he also detected the faint aroma of sweat and orgasm on the tall devil. Understanding why the handsome devil hadn’t told anyone his plan, Andrealphus broke free from his brothers to hug Beleth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, and he heard Beleth exhale high over his head.

“Come on,” the cool devil chuckled, fixing the blind one’s tie and smoothing out his suit jacket. “You know what it takes to put him down. At least now you know you have more than just a few hours. Make it worth my trouble.”

One more minute of fussing over the finishing touches on Andrealphus’ outfit, touching up the makeup that hid his scars, and brushing cigarette ashes off his suit jacket. All the while his brothers explained in great detail how they had prepared him.

For once he was trying to hide from the angels, so the halo and angel wings were left behind under his bed for now. Trading out the completely black suit, he was wearing one of Bathin’s shirts that allegedly shimmered like sequins in the proper light.

“It will make you shine when the city lights hit you, like a diamond.” Bathin explained fondly, fixing the shirt into Andrealphus’ pants. His suit jacket remained though, just in case he would need to offer it to you. Gusion had washed, brushed, and styled the blonde hair so that its wavy texture cascaded perfectly down the devil’s back.

“It looks nice when its down, but we’ll make it so that it doesn’t get tangled if you do have to fight… Belphegor forbid.” Gusion added under his breath, spraying something artificial into Andrealphus’ hair to hold it in place. Together they had spent hours applying magic and makeup alike to Andrealphus’ throat and eyes to conceal the scars. If it weren’t for the eternal gouges that ran through his eyes, you would never know. Last but not least, Beleth was fixing stalks into Andrealphus’ outstretched hand.

“Give her those when you get to her, it’ll go well.”

With that final blessing, the three devils who stayed behind helped to push Andrealphus through the heavy bars of Niflheim’s castle grounds. The first few steps were nerve wracking, he kept looking over his shoulder though he couldn’t see, listening for the snoring of his Lord Majesty to stutter. Prepared to spin on his heel and climb back over the gate and pretend that he hadn’t been about to sneak out of Hell for a night. No one stopped him and he found his way easily to you.

The way to Earth was high and lonesome, filled with the buzzing of souls that moved like bees ‘round his horns. They grazed over Andrealphus as he leaned into the incline as he felt his way along the path to the world of the living. With each step there was agony as his horns began to throb, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through the portal that he remembered. He blamed thinking about you, and all the things that he wanted to talk about with you, as he reached into his pocket for the vial he had prepared hours earlier. Tearing the stopper out with his teeth, Andrealphus reveled in feeling nothing as he knocked the bottle back. A viscous texture that reminded him of angel’s vitae coated his tongue and throat, oozing its way down into his gut. Tossing the bottle to the ground before continuing his march, Andrealphus felt the change immediately.

His horns receded into his skull, and the devil waited until the headache passed to run his fingers through his hair. It was jarring to lose something so integral to his identity, not having to navigate around the great horns when he touched his head. Wondering if you would approve, he pulled his jacket tighter around himself when an unfamiliar chill worked into his extremities. Not a chill like fear or thrill of the hunt, but something that nipped at his fingertips and made his nose feel numb.

Nearly there now, Andrealphus began to recognize the comforting sensation slipping away as all around him the sounds of a crowd, the hum of music, and the warm aroma of something delicious took over. There was no audio cue that told him that the portal to Hell had closed behind him, just that strange shiver that made him hold his arms. He was on earth now, walking amongst humans, but it also meant that he didn’t know where he was. In the letter exchanges between you and Gusion, there was a vague direction of where to end up, Earth is a big place after all. With one hand in his pocket as he stood still to try and listen for something or someone familiar, the devil in disguise wondered how silly he looked. His shoulders shivered, but he couldn’t name the sensation as he spun in a slow circle, using his feet to feel for anything he might bump into. When-

“Get out of the fucking road! Idiot!” Someone screamed, the shouting made Andrealphus reach over his back to remember that his scythe was still in Hell. A fist closed around the arm in his jacket. He was used to being pushed and pulled around by his comrades, and clung to that familiarity as he was dragged. “Maybe if you weren’t wearing sunglasses at midnight you’d see where you were going, are you trying to get yourself killed?” That same person demanded, and Andrealphus swiveled his head in their direction. Their heartbeat was accelerated, whoever his savior was it was definitely mortal.

“P-pardon me,” he started, but their footsteps were receding before he could continue. “I’m looking for a… oh.”

An immense sadness made Andrealphus reach behind him until he felt something solid, hopefully a wall, and slide down its facade. What am I doing here? He asked with a huff, soothing himself by fidgeting with the items that Beleth had closed his fingers around. It was flowers, he realized with a bitter tightening of his throat, with soft petals that felt like velvet between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know the first thing about Earth and no one to help him find his way to you. He had an excellent sense of smell and hearing, honed over years of conquering his blindness, but hunting down devils was one thing. Looking for you in this new world full of strange sounds and feels, was this his limit as a hunter? On top of all of it, this damn chill that he couldn’t identify was making him feel pathetic, pulling his knees to his chest as he sought to fight it off.

What if you weren’t even up here? What if you decided that since no devil - especially not the devil of your choice - would accompany you to this special occasion on Earth, that there was no reason to make the journey? He could imagine you back in Tartaros, probably sitting on Satan’s lap looking at the clear skies and drinking from the river’s of gold. Not even thinking about the devil who was chained to the duties of his lord-

How am I going to get back? Andrealphus’ thoughts raced to the next worry, forcing himself to stand up despite his bones aching and protesting at the discomfort. All he had to do was find a place to draw his sigil, it would open the way for him to go crawling back to Hell defeated. If that didn’t work, then surely his siblings would try to find him if the devil didn’t return to Hell. Or would Belphegor, upon waking up and realizing the defiant act of the butcher devil, forbid anyone from searching for Andrealphus? Make him a cautionary tale to all future Niflheim, the story of the devil who disappeared without a trace after a rebellious act? Deciding that he was overreacting, the devil shoved his hand back into his pants pocket, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he felt his way forward. Following the radiating warmth of a hundred bodies and the smell of something aromatic, he forged his way through that unknown path.

This was just another hunt, of course not one he’d ever done before, but the preparation is always the same. Become familiar with the land, know his quarries mind, and move without raising suspicion. No one knew that he was a devil, and the mixture he’d drunk on his way here would mask his aura from angels. For now, there was no danger. You had to be up here somewhere, he had smelt your perfume trailing ahead of him in the portal that brought him to earth. Maybe you had grown weary of waiting for him, and gone ahead yourself. What a shock it would be when he snuck up on you-

“You,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Andrealphus felt fear for the first time in centuries. “Did I scare you?”

Holding a hand to his chest, the devil spun in a circle until he zeroed in on you.

Instead of answering you right away, the devil stepped closer until he felt the tips of his shoes bump into yours. Your breath mimicked each other as he realized how close you both were. Perhaps too close, but after wondering if he would ever know a comforting presence again, decorum be damned.

“You got me,” he laughed, feeling the flowers he had gripped to make sure he hadn’t squeezed the life from them. Reaching out, Andrealphus found your shoulder and ran his hand down until his fingers met your wrist, pressing the stems into your palm, “these are for you.”

“Andrealphus,” your smile was audible, and the devil couldn’t help but do the same. You inhaled with the flowers pressed to your face, and the devil felt bold enough to stay where he was and listen to your appreciation. “These are beautiful, did you find them here?”

“No, I had uhm, some help.”

“I can tell,” you laughed, and he felt his suit jacket get plucked at. “You aren’t wearing your usual suit, is this… Bathin’s?” Your feet retreated and he stood still while you admired his assembled outfit. “Your hair, too. It’s all different.”

“Different… good?” He asked, wondering if it would be inappropriate to pull you back into him. At the moment you were an anchor and he feared that the sensory overload he was experiencing would wash him away, losing you again. Yes, it would be inappropriate, he decided. This was his first date, of sorts, with you. These were the most words that the pair of you had ever exchanged since the day you both met.

“Yeah, it’s nice. You look nice,” you elaborated, and just as he was going to reach to take your hand, you had a different idea and were stepping into him. He wasn’t ready for the collision of your bodies colliding, thankfully that wall was there to catch him. “Careful!” You laughed when his hand slid down your side, his fingers feeling the thick fabric you were wearing. In kind your cheek pressed against his shirt, your warmth taking the edge off that cold-

“Is this… weather?” He finally asked, having found the word that could not describe the bite in his shoulders and back.

“Yes,” you explained, letting his hand fall into yours. At last, he thought with a contented sigh as you pulled him to follow you. “I had kind of forgotten that Hell- home doesn't get cold or hot. It’s nice all the time. Would you like to stop somewhere and get a jacket? Or at least some gloves?”

“Gloves would be nice,” he said, fixing his sunglasses on his face while you tucked some of the flowers into his suit pocket. “So, what is this thing? That you wanted to visit.”

Leading the way, you hugged his hand close to you, forcing Andrealphus’ hips to collide against yours. The proximity was better than any warmth Earth could have given him. “It’s called a Christmas village,” you began.

Following your instructions he used a crosswalk for the first time. Using his feet and listening for the woman’s voice overhead, Andrealphus successfully crossed the street to find the tactile bars. You even let go of his hand to let him feel the confidence of doing it himself, though he quickly snatched for you again once the challenge was conquered. Taken by surprise at how accommodating Earth was, he was tempted to ask about doing it again. The exhilaration of that independence he only felt when he’d been somewhere a hundred times before was unequal.

“Are there many blind people on earth?” He asked, lifting one foot to feel for the curb as he triumphantly crossed the street.

“There are, they usually have things like guide animals, canes, or even people to help them navigate.” You explained, pulling him closer to the chorus of music. “I’ll be your guide for tonight, don’t worry.”

“Just for tonight?” He asked, feeling his cheeks turn pink at his audacity and wondering if the makeup that Gusion had put on him would hide some of it. He heard your heartbeat quicken as you gripped his hand tighter.

Now that the devil had found his quarry, the true hunt could start in earnest. Leaning on you, Andrealphus ate up your descriptions of this Christmas village. It was a dense square, much like the city center of Abyssos, with festive streamers that traveled through the air. They began attached to the top of a tall evergreen tree in the middle of the village, leaping from poles and stalls all the way out, creating a thematic web of colors. According to you, the tree was already alight with festive colors, which he asked you to explain in detail. You let him stand close as he pretended to admire the tree, listening to your hushed voice. He liked it when you whispered, an excuse for him to stand closer to you, feel the density of your jacket, the warmth of your breath. Daringly, Andrealphus thought that you wanted to stand next to him too.

“Why a tree, though?” He asked after you had finished explaining the garland, ornaments, and lights. “Why not… a rock?” Tilting his head to you, he listened to the notes of your laughter rise and mix with the aria of the carols sung nearby.

“Some people think that the tree represents a life and death cycle, they used to decorate their homes with branches to prepare for the coming of Spring. Some use it as a metaphor for Jesus and God. Most excitingly though, it’s where people put their presents for their family.”

“Could I put something under a tree for his Lord Majesty?” Andrealphus mused, allowing you to walk him away.

“You could, anyone you want to give a gift to, it goes under the tree and you don’t open it until the big day.”

Musing, Andrealphus dreamt about the people he would give gifts to while you navigated him toward the delicious smells next.

“Let’s try out some of their food, this village has some really good stuff.”

You left him to sit on a bench while hustling back and forth between food stalls. So far that evening, candied nuts and an intricately bowed treat called a pretzel had been his favorite. The twists reminded him of his own horns.

This was nice, he decided as he waited for you, not minding the cold so much now that he knew it wasn’t the worry of danger. In a way, it felt like you were going out foraging for him, returning with bounties to share. Your latest hunt yielded a bratwurst, and you had to instruct Andrealphus on how to eat it. “You hold it like this, you don’t need to use utensils or anything.”

“Feels phallic,” Andrealphus mumbled, and you both shared an immature giggle as you guided the sausage toward his mouth. Phallic, perhaps, but it was also delicious and you laughed as his eyes bulged behind his sunglasses. “We need to show this to Beelzbub, he would go mad!” After that, the devil decided he wanted to follow his nose, urging you to hold on and help him maneuver the crowds in search of the food stalls. “I wonder what else is here that he would like… could we bring something back for my brothers?”

Now that your hunger and warmth had been addressed, neither of you were shy about clutching onto each other anymore. All the while you continued to describe the colors, decorations, and sounds in that way he secretly adored. One of the last places you circuited in the village was the ornament stalls.

“I wish you could have your horns out for this part,” you hummed, laughing and putting a hand to his chest to stop Andrealphus as he pretended to think about growing them outward. “We could wrap them up in tinsel, you’d look so festive. Maybe we’ll just get an ornament you can wear instead.”

“Like my feathers?” He asked, touching his pierced ears where nothing dangled. “Could we make those into ornaments to hang on a tree?”

“We could,” you laughed, and there was a pause as something scratchy grazed his nose. “I think I like this one for you.”

“What is it?” He asked, reaching a finger to bump against what you held out. It was a sphere, and just from the way it swung wildly at his inquisitive touch, the devil knew it was fragile. Cupping it in his hands like a prayer, slowly dragged his fingers across the glitter and paint.

“It says Christmas Village 24, here, and with little angels flying around,” you explain, hesitating before helping his fingers find the painted details to feel himself. Then you laughed even harder as Andrealphus subconsciously dragged his finger across their little throats. “Do you want it?”

“I do.”

After the quite concerned vendor had wrapped up the ornament, Andrealphus was already explaining to you all the ways he would repaint the ornament. “I can ask Gusion to paint red marks over their throats, and we can erase their wings.”

“We’ll find a tree to hang it on for the season,” you promised, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting for his lips to take it from you. The last food item for the evening was that, taking turns teasing your fingers in front of each other, letting your lips and tongues coyly snatch the popped corn away.

“Then you decorate the tree, and underneath it you put gifts for your loved ones?” Andrealphus asked, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting for your lips to take it from him. Taking your turns feeding each other, the devil’s full belly tightened when your tongue coiled flirtatiously around his fingers. What would he put underneath a tree for you? Perhaps a dress made of the softest feathers from angels.

“Yeah, it’s a big time for family and friends to come together and express gratitude and love.” You explained, there was a pause as he caught the smell of more kettle corn and opened his mouth. There was a long, sensual pause where your fingers lingered on his lips, where Andrealphus couldn’t tell if you were being playful or if you were trying to turn his face to yours. Did you want to kiss him? He hoped the answer was yes, but before he could test you with tilting his chin, something else about you caught his attention. Not you though, you were sweetly oblivious as you dropped your finger from his chin.

“If you wanted, we could do something like this in Abyssos. We couldn’t do a tree like the ones here, maybe we can get Mammon to loan us one of his dildo pillars,” you laughed, too caught up in your excited day dream to notice his shift in behavior. Keeping an ear out, Andrealphus began to sweep and smell the street. “Can you imagine? A giant penis with tinsel and little ornaments hooked into the foreskin? Oh, and maybe Amon could cook, I know how to make a lot of this stuff but we’d have to… get ingredients from elsewhere… maybe Leviathan would help decorate.” While you had been walking, Andrealphus was already calmly putting himself into the perfect position to catch you as your legs gave out. Deftly, as you were swooning mid sentence, the devil swooped in to snatch you before the ground could claim you.

“Whoa, is she alright?” A voice Andrealphus did not recognize asked, and a pair of footsteps got too close. Swinging you out of the stranger’s reach, everyone was suddenly an enemy. Any of these people could have poisoned you, angels probably had similar ways to disguise themselves.

“She’s fine,” he tried not to snarl on the off chance that this was someone who was only trying to help. Being by himself in this place was already overwhelming, but what would he do if he had to fight? With you struggling to breathe in his arms, no less. “She just needs to go home.”

Holding you to his chest, Andrealphus used his hip to find the railing that led out of the village, moving until his feet found the textured bumps on at the crosswalk. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please. Do we need to return?”

“I need… need…” you were gasping, your fingers interlocked around the back of the devil’s neck as you pressed your lips to his ear. He thought he knew what you were going to say - word had traveled fast and far when you first came to Hell. The human who needed to be regularly given energy in order to survive. Every devil in Hell was scratching and clawing for time with you, hoping that you would collapse into a dire strait. Of course, what rotten luck that it was him, and here of all places, that your breath was growing shallow and your weight was sagging in his arms.

“I know, just hold on a little more. I-I’ll get you back to Hell, back to Gehenna.” Scrambling to keep track of where he was going, Andrealphus moved away from the music and aromas, focusing only on your pounding heart and shivering fingertips.

“Will we make it?” You asked, he wondered what face you were making when he stopped you from taking off your jacket. There wasn’t going to be a need for that, he thought as he continued to walk, feeling for a place where he could open the portal. “You might have to-”

“That isn’t going to be necessary,” he assured you, smoothing your hair out of your face, feeling his flowers he’d put into your bangs. “I’m taking you back to Gehenna, where his Majesty Satan, or Sitri, even Paimon are able to help.”

“Andrealphus,” you’d begun to say, but was interrupted by a scream and a crunch. His stomach flipped as the ground underneath him collapsed and he couldn’t figure out how to land. Al he knew was that you could not be harmed, and clutched your head to his chest as he landed awkwardly on his shoulders. Over and over he fell, bouncing and colliding into something that crunched and froze his bones. By the time the devil’s roll had slowed, you were gasping for breath and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“What happened?” He groaned, stifling a scream when he couldn’t move his leg or one of his arms. “Are you hurt?”

“D-Don’t move,” you panted, groaning to yourself. He felt you sit up on top of him, not minding as he squeezed at your thighs and hips. “I’m not hurt, but oh gosh you are. Can you feel this?”

He answered by grunting in pain when you touched his leg. Taking inventory of his pain, Andrealphus' heart stopped as he realized that both an arm and leg were broken. Breathing sent a sharp ache through his core, and something warm was dripping down his neck.

“This isn’t good, r-roll me on my side.” Doing as he asked, you thought you were helping him into some kind of recovery position. Pressing his hand into the biting cold, the snow, he began to draw out his sigil. “I can still get us to Gehenna, just… I need to draw.”

For a few minutes he struggled to remember it, the pain of his leg dulling his senses. Whimpering and shivering, he couldn’t give up, running his hand over the cold slush to try and erase his last attempt. All the while your eyes were on him, he could feel your stare fading. Clutching his injured self, Andrealphus realized he was losing a race against time. “Just hold on.”

“It doesn’t have to be anyone from Gehenna,” you whined, and he could hear your clothes slipping down your body. “Y-you can help me.”

“I know, I know,” he repeated himself softer the second time, still trying to open the portal. He’d heard the way you flinched at him. Please don’t think I don’t want you, he thought to himself as he struggled. “I just… I want you to be helped by someone you’re familiar with.”

“Andrealphus,” you whispered, the crunching of that cold powder reaching closer to him. Mindful of his injury, you shifted the devil to lay on his back. “I don’t mind if it’s you that helps me… I like you.”

“I know!” The devil snapped, slamming his head back into the ground, not caring that it sent a dull throb down his spine. “I know that you like me. I like you too,” he had to pause as he squinted his eyes shut and cursed himself. This was not what he had planned for tonight, not the way he wanted to confess his feelings. “Except I don’t want the first time that we… I don’t want it to be out of necessity. I want our first time to be meaningful and darling, maybe somewhere where you could see starlight and feel safe. Not like this.” He waved his hand to gesture to his useless form, you gasping for breath, cold air blasting between the two of you. Up above carols were still playing, and no one seemed to have noticed Andrealphus fall.

“Our first time will be meaningful and sweet,” you promised him, taking advantage of his damaged body to unzip his pants. Both of you knew that he was too hurt to fight you off, Andrealphus squeezed powder between his fingers as you pulled his flaccid penis into the cold. “This isn’t going to be our first time, because it's necessary. I promise we can do it again, for real, because I want you, Andrealphus.”

“You do?” He asked, voice hiccuping in his throat as you massaged at his erection.

“I sure do,” you giggled, letting your lips tickle his ears. No match for your hands, the pair of you took turns moaning softly against each other, not wanting to even kiss as he expanded and grew in your hand. Those little words inflated his ego along with his body, and you sighed relieved at the erection you could barely hold with one hand. “I think you’re the kindest and most honorable devil in all of Hell. You could have broken every bone in your body just now trying to get me back. Just so someone I was comfortable with could take care of me. You aren’t greedy, and you wanted to prioritize my sense of safety.” His body was so battered from his tumbling that even just your weight pressing ever so sweetly on his chest made him gasp. “Do you know how hot that makes me?”

The powder that he was laying on top of melted from the heat of his body as you straddled Andrealphus. Asking you if this was an appropriate place was forgotten when he felt your soft, naked skin sliding along his length. Having you on top hurt fiercely, he was sure he had broken at least his leg, and maybe a rib, but he grit his teeth as pain gave way to burning pleasure when you slipped him inside. Freezing air snatched his warm cry and let it fall back down on his chest as you leaned forward, planting your hands firm against his shoulders.

Rocking slowly, it was like you were milking the energy out of him, each thrust gave you energy. While pinned there in the snow, broken and feeble, he was at the mercy of your hunger. Your hips rising and falling along the lengths of his cock made a sweet sound like that reminded Andrealphus of innocent kisses. He wanted to kiss you so badly, he realized with a strangled breath. Riding and grinding your hips into him almost made him forget about his pain and breaks. His useless arm throbbed each time you slammed your hips down, while his leg and ribs begged to tighten and partake.

“Oh, mercy,” he whispered into the air between you as you coaxed an orgasm out of him. Gritting his teeth, he ran his hands down your cheeks and over your eyelashes, hoping to have just a taste of what you looked like at the precipice. “I’m so close.”

You didn’t say a word, but the half laugh, half moan as you caught his fingers and kissed them said it all: “no peeking, you have to wait until our first time.” While he came down, you slipped backwards and cautiously dismounted from the devil, helping him button his pants back up. While he was gasping to regain control of his body, shivering and numb in the snow, you let out an energetic sigh as your wits were restored. You weren’t a doctor, but you poked and prodded at the places where he’d hurt himself, peppering him with gentle evaluation while the devil struggled to catch his own breath.

“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered into his ear, finally helping him sit up and aiming his finger at a place to draw. “Now let me help you, you need Morax or Beur.”

With your guiding hand, the butcher drew his sigil into the snow, and as the door back to Hell opened, you lay against each other and slipped down like a slide. With a quiet oof followed by a gasp that could have woken his Lord Majesty, you both collapsed into a familiar living room floor.

“What the fuc- oh. Daughter of Solomon, Andrealphus, you’re back early.” Bathin calmed immediately at the sight of them, hopefully using his best poker face as he helped you to your feet.

“There was an accident, everything is okay now, it's just that,” you waved your hand to the devil’s broken body.

“Oh, what the fuck you were supposed to be looking after her,” Bathin hissed exasperated, dropping to his knees to examine the extent of the injuries.

“I did-”

“He did-” you spoke over each other, and Andrealphus smiled wide.

“We’ll have to sneak him out to get to Morax’s hospital,” the devil sighed, picking Andrealphus up and clutching the battered man to his chest. “Would you mind getting the door for us?”

Sneaking out of Niflheim one more time, you led the way to the grand hospital in Paradise Lost. Andrealphus talked his brother’s ear off the whole way, explaining his outing with you in great detail. You of course chimed in occasionally to fill in the details. Bathin tilted his head at you once to silently ask, “what the fuck?” when the butcher couldn’t stop talking about tinsel covered cocks with feathers hooked into the veins. It wasn’t the ideal first date in his mind, but you stayed at Andrealphus’ bed side at the hotel for the whole night. Sitting next to him, one hand holding his uninjured arm, listening to him recap the evening.

“Can we get bratwurst again?” He yawned eagerly, letting you run your hand over his face until exhaustion became greater than discomfort. At the beckoning of your fingers against his eyelashes, he began to fade.

“Sure we can,” you promised, scratching his arm gently. “I know it got forgotten in all the excitement, but I saved your ornament.”

“You did?” Andrealphus drowsed, turning his head toward you as you gave the packaging a jingle. “We can find a big tree to hang it on.”

“We can,” you mused sweetly, fixing it to one of his horns. “We can even make our own ornaments, with angel eyeballs or whatever you want. Next time I’ll show you what mistletoe is.”

“On our second date?” He asked, barely finishing the sentence before a whistling snore passed through his lips.

“Yeah,” you hesitated before stealing a kiss from his forehead. “Our second date will be even better.”

#whb andrealphus #andrealphusxreader #whb mc #andrealphusxmc #femme mc #christmas #cute #what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad

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chippedshake · 2 days ago

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A couple years ago, Ponyboy came home one day and monopolised the entire dinnertime conversation to talk about school. It wasn’t an uncommon situation, but usually Dally forgot about what he’d said the moment Pony finished a sentence.

Usually, Soda would make some vaguely affirmative sounds, Two-Bit wouldn’t even try to hide the fact that he was thinking about something else, and Johnny would be listening raptly but never saying a word. Darry and Ponyboy's parents would generally be the only ones to ask questions – his parents because he was their child and they were forced to care, and Darry because somehow the freak was genuinely interested. Dally would've bullied him about it if he wasn't so big.

But that time, the time that Dally's remembering as the cold night air cuts against his face, it was different. Because three years later Dally can still remember the story he told them.

Well, not exactly. There were some weird names he didn't even understand when Pony said them for the first time, but he can remember the story.

A man could revive his wife if he guided her up from hell without looking back to check that she was still there. He almost made it, but in the end he turned around, she was there, but she ended up in hell again.

Dally's first reaction was calling the man a fucking idiot for looking back and saying the story was a piece of shit. If he didn’t look, he might have his wife back, he might not. If he did look back, he definitely wouldn't have his wife back. Where was the fucking issue?

He said as much and Ponyboy just gave him one of his old-man-trapped-in-a-runt's-body looks, said a thoughtful "I don't think so" and changed the subject.

Dally still thought it was stupid the next day when he walked down a narrow sidewalk with Johnny and turned around three times to make sure he was still there.

He still thought it was stupid when Johnny sat next to him at dinner and he compulsively turned his head to check on him every couple minutes.

He still thought it was stupid when they were watching cartoons a bit later and his hand found Johnny's shoulder, and the simple feeling of warmth in the palm of his hand was enough to make him feel safe.

A couple nights later, as he rolled over for the hundredth time, he started to doubt it. Would he look back? If Johnny died and Dally had the chance to bring him back to life, would he look back?

Or would force of habit be too strong? Would he want reassurance of Johnny's presence? Would he trade the possibility of the rest of his life with Johnny for the possibility of a moment longer?

He's like to think he wouldn’t. That he would force himself to soldier on and trust Johnny to follow him.

But he can't be completely sure.

He thought that after that moment at the church – when Johnny came running out the moment he heard their whistle and didn't let him get a word in before telling him how he felt, when his heart stopped beating and his throat stopped working for a moment out of pure joy – that maybe after that he could be sure that Johnny would follow him.

Or, if not the church, after the hospital, before Two-Bit and Ponyboy came around, when he’d gone to visit Johnny. Johnny said it first and all that Dally could think of as he responded was wishing they'd done this all earlier. Wishing they had more time.

"D'you follow me?"

"Where?"

Dally shifts uncomfortably. "I dunno, anywhere."

"I ain't exactly in the position to, Dal, I don't know if ya noticed." Johnny gestures towards his hospital bed-bound body with a forced smile.

"C'mon, Johnny, m'being serious."

"So am I!" Dally raises an eyebrow at him and Johnny sighs (and then fails to cover a wince). "Yeah, Dal, I'd follow ya anywhere."

Dally grins. "Careful there, Johnnycakes, wouldn't want no one thinkin' you're a queer."

He thought he would be sure that Johnny would follow him after that. But no matter how sure he was that Johnny would follow he still didn't know if he could bear to not look back.

He waited in that hospital room for a couple seconds before he gave up. Gave up on Johnny coming back. Gave up on Hades coming to offer him a deal.

A few seconds were enough for him to know it was the end.

If Hades won't come to him, he'll come to Hades.

There are sirens behind him and he picks up the pace, sparing a glance behind him.

Maybe it's to make sure the fuzz aren't too close.

Maybe it's to make sure Johnny's following.

With the first crack of a gunshot through the air, he knows he's not looking for Hades. He knows he won't get the chance to bring Johnny back.

Because even if he can't lead Johnny back to where he belongs, he can join him wherever he's going. Because Johnny didn't bother to ask it back, but Dally would follow him to the end of the Earth.

Johnny's always been a better man than Dally. He trusts him not to look back.

#i should be doing chemistry #this has quite literally zero editing #jally #johnny cade #dallas winston #lmfao why are all my jally fics about dally dying #the outsiders #the outsiders book #the outsiders movie #the outsiders 1983 #chippedshake #fanfics

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paintednailsandsoftdetails · 10 hours ago

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911, a confession

Let me start by saying that I don't really know what I'm doing here, so bear with me. If I actually go through with posting this, and you find yourself tagged and wondering who I am and why, or even if you happen upon it in the tags, I hope you take a minute to read this.

You don't know me, but you've been my community for a while now. I've checked your blogs daily for years, I've read your posts and loved your art and sent you countless anonymous asks to pick your brains- never hate though, because I'm not a Freak.

What I am, however, is a lonely lesbian with depression and (newly diagnosed) OCD, who has always needed some hyperfixation media/fandom to find life bearable. For some ~fun context, I was Raised by the glee fandom, I will die on the hill that watching queer as folk when I was 14 and discovering its fans 10+ years after airing made me who I am, I've got the most bizarrely timed stint in the 1D fandom under my belt, and I find nothing in the world more interesting and also affirming than Queer Reading (verb) media- to the extent that I earned an English degree and wrote a thesis specifically about it.

I haven't posted on here in 1.5 years, since I fell out of my previous fandom (apologies to anyone from said fandom who still happens to follow me and is seeing this, feel free to move along.) But I've been on this app every day since, because of 911.

(starting the read more here to spare you- again especially if you are tagged, I know you're probably feeling miserable rn but I do hope the entirety of this love letter reaches you)

I started "watching" mid season 5- by which I mean I was in a deep depressive state after disconnecting with previous media hyperfixation and, when I happened upon 911 trending while in need of distraction, I quickly fell down a rabbit hole. Tale as old as time, tumblr dot com convinces you that you need to tune into *insert media here* bc its fun and there are gay people! I caught myself up through all the big blogs and by the time May Day was airing I felt like I had a decent grasp on all the lore, all the fandom drama, all the places the writers were "definitely, so brilliantly" going to be taking the show that we had to look forward to, all without ever having actually seen an episode of the show (before you boo me, yes I've watched it by now, even season 1)

But I think it is important, and also a little messed up, that I fell in love with 911 through YOU, through the fans. Obviously watching the show initially through the lens of fan reactions first and not whats actually happening on screen can have some... interesting results. We've heard it all before, with the people who started watching specifically for Buddie around season 4/5 because they saw The Will and by the time they caught themselves up and watched the end of season 6 they wanted their refunds.

Here is where I want to make a clarification- the reason I got so interested, why I started coming back every day to check in on tags and certain favorite blogs I didn't even follow bc I was denying the want to become fully Involved, was because I fell in love with Evan Buckley. I won't lie, it was Buddie that caught my attention first- of course, thats what everyone here was talking about- and as much as I quickly started discover the value of the show outside of them (Henren my absolute Beloveds!!!!! Captain Dad Bobby Nash you are so special to ME. Chimney man of all time i can keep going) none of it was enough initially to bite the bullet and catch up on 5 seasons worth of a show I also knew would have elements I WASNT interested in (Copaganda and Taylor Kelly I am looking at you.)

But then I started really getting into fan's readings of Buck *insert footage of me learning the Buck Begins of it all for the first time* as a character separate from Eddie (as much as people were capable of anyway, and I will say some of yall continue to be absolutely atrocious at it) and I knew I was done for. Buck, this character so full of goodness, and his need to be Found but to also Find his own family and purpose and sense of self, for whom the show's thesis statement concerns the act of working to Make the kind of Love you want to have in this world, even if you were raised without a blueprint for it- I'm sorry but what else were me and my gay ass queer reading inclined hyperfixated brain to do other than take Evan Buckley into the folds and never let him go?

I love Buck. I was convinced by the time the s5 finale was airing before I had actually watched the show that Buck had to be bi. Even if they never did a thing with it you couldn't convince me otherwise and I was also confident that Oliver was portraying him with a similar mindset. I never wavered in that interpretation, even when the utter disappointment of the s6 finale and the failure to do anything truly meaningful character development wise through the lightning strike-Natalia speed run hit, and certainly not as I got fully caught up actually watching the show outside of tumblr live reactions during episode airings. I'll admit I was pretty ready to Check Out after the end of season 6, to the point where I hardly checked in on fandom at all going into 7 until the rumblings of possible canon Bi Buck reached me and I doubled back like "hold on, for real this time?" But when I say Check Out, I mean I was ready to walk away from the hyperfixation with a joint lack of satisfaction with canon & firm conviction that Buck was queer.

Things with Eddie are a lil different- and I want to try and keep this bit brief bc this is ultimately a post about Buck and Bucktommy and I have no interest in unsettling those of you who may have a queer reading connection to Eddie as real as the one I feel for Buck, but unfortunately this conversation cannot exist separately from the Eddie/Buddie of it all- I personally don't think Eddie is queer. I don't really think I ever did, even when I was in the thick of it with falling for Buddie. I know me saying this would cause certain audience to pelt me with accusations of fetishizing Buck or treating Eddie as nothing more than a vehicle for Queer Buck via Buddie- false! I actually think Eddie is an incredibly fascinating character, a deeply compelling representation of grief and fatherhood and masculinity, and also a hilariously weird lil bitch guy. I just don't feel like- especially having removed fanon glasses while actually starting to watch the show, and taking the time to acknowledge that the things about Buddie that appealed to me on a romantic level (this is NOT about their friendship which i stand by being beautiful and important) all boiled down elements I was reading within and onto BUCK specifically, not Eddie. Perhaps an impossible concept for some, the idea that Bi Buck could feel so real and apparent to me primarily divorced from the idea that Eddie had to be queer as well, but I won't bore you with my explanations for it, though I suspect the people tagged and still reading by this point know exactly what I am talking about.

All of this potentially obnoxious prologue to say, I've spent the last however many months falling in love with canon Bi Buck *insert footage of me speed running back into my daily fandom involvement/blog check ins the moment I knew Buck kissed a man*, with Bucktommy, and with Bucktommy fans.

For a long while there I had resigned myself to an odd, though perhaps not as unique as I thought, reality of loving and fully believing in Queer Buck, not necessarily feeling the same about Eddie or Buddie, but also in full agreement with many that already 6 seasons in with literally nothing else having remotely worked, Buddie would be the only satisfying conclusion for Buck's love story. This is again not exactly how I felt about Eddie- but a big part of that for me is that I don't think Eddie's primarily story in 911 is a love story. He's the vessel for telling other important, beautiful stories about fatherhood and forgiveness and that is OKAY bc not every characters story is a love story!!! Evan Buckley's is though (Despite some very weird and confusing things mr stark has just said about his character that actively contradict what hes previously said and what audiences have been looking at and for this entire time, but I digress)

But then! By whatever happy accident we want to call it 911 had Tommy Kinard fall back into its lap as the solution to what felt like the impossible: They found the ONE way they could introduce a non Eddie Diaz love interest for Buck that COULD be satisfying for Bucks story. Someone with connections to the 118 and the shows history and potential for further development within main storylines as his job directly pertains to their plots. Someone with such compelling connections for interweaving these two characters that it got us- including the showrunner- talking about the Red String of Fate. That it got some of the beloved tumblr pals I had been watching for years, who NEVER would have believed they'd ever root for a Buck endgame that wasnt Buddie doing exactly that, and with joy, love, and conviction. Again I'll ask, what else were me and my Buck loving brain to do but take Bucktommy into the folds and never let go? (apparently I hadn't considered that there was apparently horrifying alternative- more on that next!)

As you all damn well know, falling in love with Bucktommy has not come without its trails. I have never seen things in fandom as vile as the things I've seen go down here. And as I mentioned before, I've been IN IT with yall for a while, even if you didnt know it. I was here, lurking, and I know this fandom has had its highlight reels of racism and misogyny and harassment (despite certain factions current batshit consensus that things were "never bad" before *gasp* a couple of people, some over the ancient age *double gasp* of 30 heard about bucktommy through tumblr the same damn way the 90% of you who havent been watching since season 1 heard about buddie and decided to invest)

What happened tonight made me cry, for about 40 minutes straight. And yeah, its been a devastating week for us all for a lot of reasons. On top of the ~national dread (I'm a lesbian in the US btw) today was my 7th out of 9 straight days of open to close shifts in a demanding retail/management position, and I have a head cold so maybe this was just a Breaking Point after a whole lotta shit.

But also, maybe, it was really fucking shitty to watch this play out. I've already seen countless people say it better than I could. Yeah, its a tv show. It's a fictional ship. But its also escapism, a spot of joy many of us were extra dependent on this week. It was something GOOD, queer representation and a love story on national tv days after a horrifying reality set in for queer people, and we are allowed to acknowledge how much losing that sucks just on a general level for a second...

Second over, now lets talk not on the general level. Lets talk about how I've watched real human beings get harassed, sent death threats, be told they are faking cancer and failing to properly grieve dead loved ones, I've watched deeply homphobic language be adopted and incorporated into everyday use despite constant correction and pleas from queer men to knock it the hell off, I've watched homophia as a whole run rampant and unchecked by big blogs, with some biphobia to boot, I've seen some images of horrific anti gay violence and historical trauma invoked as a way to make fun of others, I've seen lesbianism slandered and proffered as an excuse for such vile behavior in a disgusting erasure of the beautiful solidarity that has historically existed between gay men and lesbians in the face of homophobia, and yes, I've seen graphic descriptions of child rape via targeted fanfiction attacks.

Again, others have already said it better than I can: This isn't about Bucktommy. It's about the way that everyone who was Pulling for them as a couple, who DARED to *checks scribble on hand* enjoy a canon queer mlm couple featuring a character (or two) they've grown to care deeply for, has been subjected to all the above mentioned and more, and for...what. For. What.

In the name of a fanon couple that has not been legitimized by the writers in 7 years? of a fanon character interpretation of a canonically straight man (not just assumed straight, verbally assigned straight now on multiple occasions) that people cannot fathom perceiving this show, let alone liking these characters, without? For the version of this story that, if the writers REALLY wanted to happen could have happened so many fucking times by now- especially when the show was coming to what might have been its end in s6- and still hasn't? A version that has been dismissed multiple times by the writers cast crew and every other unfortunate individual who has been harassed repeatedly about it?

And I'm not here to say Buddie is inherently bad!!!! It brought me into this same as the rest of you. I don't even believe it would necessarily be a bad or wrong conclusion for either character or the show were it to eventually, finally happen!! But for the love of god, hear me when i say from the outsider pov of someone who has experience the show in the way I did first through fandom then stepping back to watch for real and now watching it with my mother who is a near Exact representation of the general audience of this show (experienced Procedural watcher, no idea about Buddie or fandom interpretation, had no sense of gay eddie to speak of, and is not shocked but pleasantly surprised by and endeared by Bi Buck) you are SEVERELY deluded if you think what happened tonight by breaking up Bucktommy "makes sense" to any audience outside of buddies who've been writing manifestos for years about how every single thing in this show is "carefully, intentionally, clearly" leading to Buddie canon. I swear to you the people at home do not fucking see it. The people at home saw Buck in a nice, developing relationship that finally seemed to be going somewhere real for him after discovering an important part of his identity late in life, and then they saw that relationship abruptly ended and Buck heartbroken, going to sit with his best, still straight, bud Eddie Diaz. The ONLY people this makes sense for are the people who I am afraid it seems may have legimately bullied this into happening.

And if that is the case? We are sooo far fucking past the point of no return here. There is no true satisfaction in a Buddie canon endgame here for anyone who's lived through the past half a year in this fandom unless you were a perpetrator of any of the horrific shit mentioned above. I mean that with my whole fucking chest. If, and i do think it is a Big Fucking Fat if, Buddie does happen, and you find yourself no qualms happy and satisfied with it as your well earned endgame, I hope you know how rotted you are. And while I'm at it, I hope some way some how you come to see that this was not the carefully crafted beautifully developed loved story of all time you were gods bravest soldier in waiting for. Its just what left after years of meandering storytelling and cyclical character "development" with a bow slapped on top at the last moment because the gift giver was afraid you might kill them if they presented less.

Anyway. I said a million words ago that this was a love letter, and I do mean that. As much as its also been an mental health exercise for me to write this all out. So,

@kinardbuckleys @bucksboobs @kirkaut @tevankinkley @userautumn @sunglassesmish @tommyscurls @ohithankyou @buckxtommy @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @firewasabeast

(And so many other people I'm surely forgetting, and the few artists and writters on other platforms I dared to venture to- maybe never opening twitter again after this xoxo)

Thank you. You don't know me, I never quite got over the anxiety of trying to re-enter a fandom space after a time away, or maybe some of the imposter syndrome or embarrassment I felt accidentally falling in love with this show and Buck by just watching you all talk about him before anything else. But for the last few months, some of you years, you've been my community, my escape. I've loved watching your brains and your hearts work to discuss and create, even amidst the absolute shittiest fandom behavior Ive ever seen. And I am as grateful for getting to experience it from a far as I am devastated at the thought of losing it, of not individually typing in all your blog names (I was too anxious to even FOLLOW you guys truly rip) to see what new content or spec or art or love you had to share about Buck / Bucktommy every day.

In another life- one where idk perhaps people were kinder or showrunners weren't bullied and actors weren't dropped last minute after months of torment and a satisfying canon queer love story for a character who genuinely needs it could just Be in peace- I would have loved to one day put on my big girl pants (aka saved Buck url) joined the fandom for real. To have directly talked to any of you in a way that wasnt... this.

I would have loved to love Bucktommy with you.

#if any of you actually read this i am kissing you directly on the forehead #and if you didnt I am wishing you find some escapist joy outside all this #bucktommy #911 abc #911 spoilers #buddie #evan buckley #yes i am tagging all of it lmao I have SPARED a lot of you by never joining this fandom and saying the shit ive wanted to say so youll deal #with this one time and i honestly hope it reaches outside who its really intended for #tommy kinard #tevan #please let a buddie read it and get pissy see if i care #maybe the last time i used tumblr too since i don't ever want to go through this again lol

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ahyperactivehero · 15 hours ago

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i asked on election night if anyone wanted a little drabble to help with the stress, and unfortunately it has taken me a little longer than i would like to get them out!

@det-agency: please write Edwin getting turned into an orb for the first time pre-canon and Charles freaking out i think itd be so fun

(fun fact, this is my first orb fic! i've wanted to write one for a minute, but this is the first that i've actually sat down and wrote out!)

Drabble 5 (Orb Fic)

London, 1991

Getting chased by a vengeful ghost was not exactly what Charles had planned for when they’d set off to speak to their client, but he supposed that’s what you get being a ghost detective.

Edwin sprinted ahead of him, his long legs easily giving him the speed that he needed to leave their client in the dust.

“Who woulda thought our client was the guilty one?” Charles yelled out to Edwin, who glanced over his shoulder.

“It is certainly a twist,” Edwin said. He suddenly veered off to the right, racing towards the bedroom mirror they had come through earlier. If they could get there, they could head back to their newly established office and regroup. They’d certainly need to think of a better plan now that their client had turned on them and absolutely wasted their original suspect.

Edwin reached the mirror, his hand outstretched as he concentrated on getting them back to the office. Charles turned around, his hands immediately finding comfort in his cricket bat. If that bastard even thought about getting close to them he’d smash him.

“Come on,” he heard Edwin mutter under his breath. “Find it, find it, find it.”

Mirror travel was something Charles had yet to master, but Edwin was aces at it. It would probably only take him a second before–

A choked, gasping sound came from behind him, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone stepping through a mirror. He spun around, worried for a moment that Edwin might have fallen through the mirror and been separated from him, when he felt his soul go cold.

Their client, Geoff Mann, stepped from the mirror. His hand was already through, and in his fist was an iron knife.

An iron knife covered in ghostly blood.

“Edwin!” Charles yelled, rushing forward just as Edwin staggered backwards.

His hands were on his throat, blood seeping through his fingers. Charles felt panic like he never had before. Iron hurt ghosts, but could it kill them? Was stabbing enough to obliterate a ghost? Maybe not, but what about cutting their throat?

Edwin fell straight into his arms, and Charles would have dropped his cricket bat if it weren’t for the vengeful ghost of their client standing over them. Blood dripped off of the knife and pooled on the carpet and it seemed wrong that it wouldn’t actually stain it. Not that Charles wanted anything to be stained with his best friend’s blood, it just seemed wrong that it wouldn’t.

“Hold on,” he said in what he hoped was his most reassuring voice. Gently, and without looking away from Geoff, he slid Edwin to the floor. He ignored his hand dragging down Charles’s arm, begging him to stay– to not leave him alone.

This would only take a moment. Besides, he needed to take care of the threat before he tended to Edwin.

“You fucked up,” Charles said, twirling his bat. Geoff didn’t even have the decency to look the least bit frightened.

“You’re gonna make me move on,” Geoff said. “And I ain’t doin’ it.”

They weren’t. That’s not what their Agency did. They couldn’t force someone to move on if they didn’t want to. It wasn’t even what Geoff had originally hired them for!

But none of that mattered now. Not when Edwin was behind him, gasping and potentially dying.

(He wasn’t even sure what dying would mean for a ghost. Would he go back to Hell? Disappear?)

He didn’t even give him a chance to respond. He swung his bat against his arm, almost enjoying the way it cracked and forced him to drop his knife.

Charles wasn’t a violent person, no matter how much he feared being like his father. But the satisfaction he got from seeing that man drop to his knees in pain after what he’d done to Edwin? Well, he might need to reflect on that.

The urge to keep going was strong– after all, what was to stop him from coming after them later? – but he forced himself to stop.

“If anything happens to him,” Charles warned, holding out his bat against the other man’s head. “I’m comin’ back.”

Quicker than the other man could react, he bent down and picked up his knife and turned back to get Edwin.

He laid there, air and blood gurgling as he tried to keep his wound closed. At some point his eyes had screwed shut, like that might help block out the pain. They sprang open at the first sign of Charles’s touch, that faint bit of panic he’d seen when something reminded him of Hell shooting across his face before flattening out into something more manageable.

“Let's go,” Charles said. He put his hands under his armpits, intending to haul Edwin up if he had to, but a flash of light overwhelmed his vision and Edwin disappeared.

“Edwin!” he yelled and looked from hand to hand as if he might have somehow been hiding there.

A small orb, just a bit bigger than a cricket ball, floated there in front of him. There was no trace of Edwin, just the small, pulsing yellow orb.

“Edwin?” he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

The orb bobbed for a moment, as if it were answering. The yellow seemed to glow brighter for a second before dimming until it was a faded, off-white color.

Forget it. Charles had no clue what was going on, but he didn’t have time for this. He snatched Edwin up and booked it through the mirror, no destination in mind– only intent on getting them as far away as possible.

It took several tries before he got back to the office, and by then his nonexistent heartbeat had slowed down to something far more bearable. Without even thinking he tossed his bag and bat to the floor and uncovered the ball of light he’d been keeping safe in his hands.

There was an unexpected feeling to it, not quite a weight but certainly a warmth. It reminded him of when he was alive and he’d stick his cold finger next to a heater or run them under warm water once they’d gone numb.

It was the first time he’d felt warmth since he died.

He held the orb closer to his face and chest for inspection. It was perfectly round, the edges of it reminding him of an impossible mix of glass and a cloud. It wasn’t solid, but he also couldn’t put his hand through it, even if he tried.

“Edwin?” he asked again. Could this really be Edwin? What had that ghost done to him?

The orb pulsed, yellow light coming back to it before fading again into that cool, white light.

So it really must be Edwin.

He glanced over at Edwin’s slowly growing collection of books and wondered if there was something about this in one of them. The subject of orbs had never come up before, but then again, neither one of them had ever been as hurt as Edwin was before.

Was this what happened when something hurt them? How badly did they need to be hurt in order for it to happen?

“Hey,” Charles said as he ran his hand over the orb. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.”

There was another pulse. The orb seemed to hover above his hands for a moment before gravity seemed to take over it and it dropped back down.

In a sheer panic, Charles caught it. Or not it, he supposed. Because this thing had to be Edwin. If it wasn’t that would mean that either Edwin was gone or he’d left him behind with their insane client.

The idea that he might have done that nearly sent him into a tailspin. Should he double back and check? What if this was a trick and the real Edwin was somehow still there? Or what if there was something special about his knife that had turned Edwin into an orb?

Gently, he cradled Edwin to his chest as he turned to look for his bag. He’d picked up the knife, hadn’t he? Thankfully, it only took a few tries before he successfully pulled it from his bag. Ha, take that Edwin, he was getting better at using it.

“See, mate,” he said, his voice low and soft as he spoke over the orb. “I told you this bag was worth it. Already earnin’ its keep, hm?”

The handle of the knife was thankfully not iron coated. Charles hadn’t even thought about that earlier when he’d grabbed it. All he’d been thinking about was that Edwin was hurt, and he’d needed to disarm the guy.

Blood covered the blade, but aside from that there seemed to be nothing interesting about it at all. Not strange markings, no traces of magic that he could tell. It looked exactly like every other boring knife out there.

Except this one had hurt his friend.

The orb– Edwin, Charles supposed– pulsed again, the light from it peeking out between his fingers. Had Charles squeezed it by accident? He’d been so focused on the knife, so caught up in thoughts of their client hurting him that he hadn’t really…

Slowly but with more force than Charles anticipated, the orb pulled free from his hand. It bobbed around the room, floating here and there as if it were looking for something. It lingered above Edwin’s chair, the space where the other boy spent most of his time in the office.

Yet there was nothing for it to do. It’s not like the orb had hands. It couldn’t hold a book or write or do anything that usually interested Edwin.

As if it had realized this, it lazily floated back over to Charles. That yellow light seemed to be getting even stronger, calming Charles’s nerves just a bit. A strong light had to be a good sign, yeah? Surely that meant that Edwin was fine.

Except what if he wasn’t fine? What if yellow was bad and he was trying to warn Charles? What if he needed help, and Charles couldn’t understand him? How was he meant to do anything if Edwin couldn’t talk to him anymore?

The orb bumped into his head, the softest, gentlest headbutt Charles had ever experienced. His thoughts slowed down as he lifted his hands up to cup the orb again.

“Well, mate,” Charles said. “What do you think we should do?”

Edwin didn’t answer. Not that Charles thought he would.

“What if I read to you?” he asked. “I love it when you read to me. Helps me relax, yeah?”

Edwin seemed to warm up in his hands again. Charles took that as a good sign.

He strolled over to Edwin’s bookcase (our bookcase, Charles, the Edwin in his mind reminded him) and browsed their selection. Most of them were detective novels, but Edwin had recently started to collect more on magic and the supernatural.

No, he thought, should really stick to a classic.

“What about Sherlock Holmes? You love him,” he said, as if Charles didn’t also love him.

He grabbed one of their Sherlock Holmes books at random and made his way over to the couch. “Might as well get comfy, eh?” he asked and sprawled out.

For a moment, Charles was sure Edwin was going to float away. Maybe he hadn’t been as interested in reading to him as he’d thought. Instead, Edwin merely rolled down until he was resting on Charles’s chest, that warm, familiar feeling spreading all over him.

So Charles read to him. He read to him until he had finished one book, and then started on another that he could reach. His voice was a low rumble, the sound fading into the background as he split his attention between the words and Edwin. Time passed slowly and hazily, the sort of dream-like quality that only came when it didn’t really matter.

Eventually, when he thought he might go insane from reading so much, he talked. He told Edwin how he was sorry he hadn’t been fast enough to stop him– because really, Charles had been right there after all– and how he hoped that Edwin forgave him. He told him that when Edwin felt better, he would do anything he wanted. He’d even go see that play he’d been talking about that Charles couldn’t remember the name of if he wanted. And there was a show that Charles was interested in going to, but they could stand at the back where it was quieter and they were less likely to get stepped on if Edwin wanted to come.

He told him how much he missed him. How worried he was about him. How he knew that it had only been about a day since he’d gone into this form, but he didn’t think he’d missed anyone this much. Not his mum or dad, not his friends or teachers. No one.

Finally, he fell silent. He was sure that if he dug down deep enough there was more for him to say, but what was the point? Edwin was still stuck looking like the world’s brightest cricket ball, and he had just spilled about everything he had in him.

“I’m just worried,” Charles said. His arms wrapped around the orb so tightly it doubled as a self-hug. “Y’know I worry.”

Then again, maybe Edwin didn’t know. Charles loved to portray himself as this confident, friendly guy. Sure, he could be protective, but did Edwin know he was serious enough that he could worry?

Something shifted. The solid, golden color the orb had been since he’d started reading to him briefly changed. It flashed blue, a color that Charles normally loved but reminded him too much of Death in this instance, before it faded, and the orb was gone.

Before he could worry whether or not Death had actually come for them, he felt a solid weight pressing down on him. And there, in his lap, laid out across him, was Edwin. His feet were tucked up, allowing his long body to fit neatly onto the couch, his head cradled against Charles’s chest.

“Edwin?” he breathlessly asked.

Edwin shifted, his head tilting back just enough to look up at him. Charles had to loosen his death grip on him to allow even that. “Charles?”

Immediately, Charles hugged him closer. He smashed Edwin’s face into his chest and pressed his chin to the top of his head. “Don’t ever do that again, mate,” he said. “I mean it.”

For a moment, Edwin was frozen. Then, he thawed and relaxed himself into Charles’s hug. “I did not mean to worry you,” he said softly.

“Yeah, well, you did,” Charles said without any heat to it. Finally, he let his arms slide away from Edwin and allowed himself to get his first real look at his friend.

The first thing he noticed was that he looked tired. Dark bags lined his eyes and blood still smeared his collar, although whatever wound had been made was gone. He seemed paler than normal as well, but Edwin was always so pale it was hard to tell.

“Alright?” he asked, still looking for any sign that he wasn’t.

Edwin nodded. “Yes,” he said. His voice sounded stronger than before, and God if it didn’t sound like Heaven to Charles. The idea that he might never have heard his friend speak again hadn’t truly hit him until this moment. “I believe I am unharmed.”

Charles’s eyes darkened. “You were stabbed. In the neck,” he said. Or close enough, anyways. “And then you turned into this glowing ball, and… well, I didn’t know what to do.”

Edwin flinched at the mention of his wound before soothing his expression into one of fondness. “Yes, I… seem to remember that,” he said. His hand came up to touch his throat, only to find no wound there. “It would seem I have healed.”

“Maybe that’s what that was?” he asked and made a gesture with his hand to show orb-sized Edwin. “Maybe that was like ‘ghost healing’?”

Something between annoyance and acceptance flashed across Edwin’s face. “I believe you have it right,” Edwin said. “It would seem that would be the form ghosts take when they heal.”

Charles nodded. “Kinda brills, honestly. Like a turtle goin’ into their shell or something.”

Edwin squinted his eyes at the comparison. “I suppose,” he said. And then almost immediately collapsed when he tried to get up.

“Oi!” Charles said and wrapped his arms around him. “What’re you doing? You wanna be an orb again?”

Edwin huffed as he settled back down. His face had washed out even more after his ill-advised attempt. “No, I do not,” he said. “But it hardly seems appropriate for me to just… lay all over you.”

Before he had died, Charles might have agreed. There was a certain amount of weirdness to it, he supposed, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Edwin to get up. In fact, he wanted Edwin to stay right where he was until he was strong enough to stand without passing out again.

Edwin rolled his eyes when he said this. “I did not pass out. Ghosts cannot do that,” he said. Yet he laid his head back down against Charles’s chest, his now ruffled hair tickling Charles’s chin.

“Go back to sleep,” Charles said. Before Edwin could argue, he held a hand up and used it to gently bop him on the arm. “And don’t say ghosts can’t sleep. That’s basically what you were doing before.”

Edwin started to shake his head, but the motion quickly became him snuggling down against Charles. “I am merely resting my eyes.”

Charles grinned, a sudden wave of fondness he’d never felt for anyone else overtaking him. “Yeah, well rest your mouth too.”

Edwin tried to flip him off but failed. “Almost had it,” Charles teased.

“I’ll figure it out one day,” he said before fading back off to sleep.

At least this time he stayed a ghost.

#v speaks #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda fanfics #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland

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mjis0nfire · 1 day ago

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DPxP5 - The Fenton's Host Siblings

So Casper High hosts a foreign exchange student program with some school in Tokyo during the everlasting trio's junior year. Honestly Danny couldn't care less, just means more people exposed to the weirdness that is Amity Park. There are three reasons he even tangentially cares:

1. Tucker is a weeb and is far too eager to ask the Japanese kids about tech stuff, especially since google-translated articles can only do so much.

2. Sam has been complaining non-stop about the kids her parents have decided to host for the program, and how they're practically carbon copies of her mom. (Something Tucker isn't complaining about)

3. His own parents got the idea to host a couple of kids for the program as well.

So he gets host-siblings for a few months. A boy around his age named Ren, and a girl a year younger named Futaba. Oh, and Ren's 'emotional support' cat Morgana. Lovely.

When the two arrive, they seem normal enough. Quiet and polite, Ren doing most of the talking. Once Jack mentions the lab downstairs tho, Futaba's face lights up. She immediately asks about it and to be shown around. Danny and Jazz share a look of 'oh no' before their parents go about showing their host siblings the ghost lab.

Surprisingly, Futaba is incredibly interested - citing that her late mother was a researcher for something similarly supernatural. Ren is... Incredibly quiet. Staring at the portal when he's not being addressed. Almost like it's familiar to him.

But why would it be? Natural ghost portals are incredibly few and far between. Unless...

What's even wierder is how he isn't all that phased about the reality of ghosts and spirits. He says it's because of stories he heard growing up in a small town - yokai are a whole other beast - but Danny doesn't quite buy it.

So he gets suspicious of his new host brother. Asking Jazz about it isn't much help. She just calls him paranoid, tells him to give them a chance - that it's their first day here, there's plenty of 'haunted' or 'cursed' places in Japan. He sighs and aceepts the answer. Reluctantly.

But then the damn cat keeps giving him a wide berth. Ren explains that Morgana (or Mona-chan as Danny hears from Futaba) isn't too fond of a lot of guys, but he'll warm up. It makes sense - and unknowingly gives a bit of gender euphoria for Danny - but doesn't fully ease him. He's a acutely aware of how animals react to his 'ghostly presence', even in human form. And it's odd - almost like the little furball understands Ren and Futaba when they speak to him. Not just in a 'he can pick out hos favorite and least favorite words' way a lot of animals have. But actually responds to more neutral 'commands' from the two.

It kinda freaks him out. And only adds to his suspicions.

The only reason he doesn't immediately go ghost and interrogate them is bc they're under the same roof. Maybe once school starts...

#I think I’ll make this a series actually #persona 5 #p5 #ren amamiya #morgana p5 #futaba sakura #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #when phantoms meet

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 24 hours ago

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So The Vengeance Saga just came out and I had this super cool and angsty idea between First Ninja & the Sorcerer.

Picture this!

The song 600 Strikes and First Ninja vs the Sorcerer except he’s had enough and finally breaks.

“How does it feel to be helpless?! How does it feel to know pain?! I watched by brothers die in horror!” And just like Odysseus with Poseidon, but with his sword instead of the trident.

I dunno, First Ninja just seems to have some unresolved anger issues 🤷

Oh brosky, this ask finally pushed me to listen to some Epic stuff. (I heard snippets and saw some animatics on youtube, but never just sat down and listened to it, lol).

But ooooooh boy, you are SO right, it would be a super freaking cool idea for First & Sorcerer!! Like ahdgdghshs just the images in my mind of their confrontation for those lines are so vivid: First attacking Sorcerer but unable to kill him, because he is immortal, and effectively torturing him (before throwing him in the hole) while snapping about his brothers, about the fact that he spent his whole life chasing him down and etc.

Like mmmmmm 😔 👌👌👌👌 so much potential!!!!

And yeah absolutely, i do like to believe that First has a lot of unresolved anger issues too! We caught glimpses of it in canon, but he is usually good at controlling himself, though it does make the though of him snapping ever so more delicious lol.

It also makes me remember that we were robbed of any meaningful confrontations between First & Sorcerer in canon, for fun haha time travel episode and just chucking Sorcerer into a hole. 😭 Like, not even a cool one-line zinger from First for all the years of suffering and loss. Which is totally fine, because no canon can even compare to absolute bat-shit insane final fight between them that exist purely in my mind. 👍🥲

#que?#rc9gn #first ninja #rc9gn first ninja #maybe i'll animatic something to 600 srikes just to make myself feel better 😭😭😭#i do wish there were less lines about wife and son of Ody. just because my First is single and suffering and working more on vengeance than #hope of going back home lol the last line 'next to my wife' is such a banger but it just doesnt work for my version of First aaaaa

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evilslushy · 3 hours ago

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i really like ur ff ! it was so good . could u maybe write about hotboxing hamzahs car by the beach or something like that ?

HotBox Challenge ᯓᡣ𐭩

Hamzah x f!reader

Warning: a little suggestive! MDNI :)

(A/N): barely proofread this… but this is my first ever request outside of people I know!! I hope you like this anon,, I know I didn’t exactly let them hotbox the car but I hope you forgive me for that <3 MWAH (i luv ur request btw, truly challenged my writing #unique)

w: 1.4k

You shivered. Droplets of water dripping down your neck, leaving prints of a darker color on the fabric of Hamzah's dark green jacket. You licked your lips, savoring the salty coating on them as you rolled the windows up to block the breeze from blowing on you. You guys weren’t planning to get this wet but one thing led to another leading back to Hamzah (accidentally) aggressively pushing you into the beach. It wasn’t fully his fault, you kind of started it when nudged him for saying something you didn’t like.

Sighing, you pouted as you looked at the driver’s seat beside you. Your boyfriend’s guilt gnawed at him, pushing him toward a nearby supermarket for god knows what. “Hamzah, it’s fine!” You told him right before he sat you down on the passenger seat. “Just stay here for a second.” He cut you off, taking off his dark green jacket and putting it over you.

It’s been a few minutes since and he hasn’t been back, you wonder what he’s even looking for. Regardless, you hug yourself tighter—seeking warmth within yourself. Humming to a song as you waited for his imminent arrival.

Your humming must’ve been loud enough for it to block out the sound of Hamzah’s footsteps. A knock on the window snapping you out your own trace, turning to be greeted by your boyfriend’s half smile; ushering you to unlock the doors. You smile back, shaking your head left and right. Hamzah’s smile dropped, a muffled: “babe, open. Please.” Heard by his window.

Obviously you weren’t actually planning to serve him hypothermia on a silver platter. Leaning over to push the lock open for him. Hamzah immediately opened the door to set a plastic bag on his seat, his hand rummaging through it to give you whatever took him so long to grab.

You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a packet from the bag. A packet containing a small item—something you'd typically find inside a box with several others alike. Hamzah held it out to you with a sheepish grin, as if it were some kind of treasure he’d unearthed from a hidden aisle. “Self heating pads” he informs, “I didn’t realize it was this small when I bought them… if this isn’t enough I got a box.” His murmurs go unheard when you take it away from his hand, ripping it out of its plastic wrap so it’ll start warming up. Revealing a piece of fabric, seamed on its sides. “Your jacket was warm enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know, I kinda just freaked out. It’s cold out. You might catch a cold.” He placed the plastic bag that contained the box of heating pads towards your lap. Sitting down and closing the car door behind him.

You didn’t know if it was because someone else was in the car now, or maybe the heating pads work like magic. Your body warmed up by the second, eyes shifting from the heating pad between your palms to the ocean waves crashing down—the only visible reflection on them being the bright full moon. So bright you could see the shoreline racing upwards as the waves came to an end, pulling backwards—the wet sand now richer in color.

Hamzah’s hands shifted around, from his thighs to the steering wheel. Lips twisting to refrain from asking what he wanted to ask. And if there’s anyone that can feel his awkwardness more than you… it would be Martin. Though regardless of that. You turned to look at him, Hamzah side-eyeing you with the same twist on his lip—slowly turning into a weak smile. “You look like you want to say something…” you softly noted.

Hamzah tilting his head, finally facing your gaze. He simply shook his head. Making you lay back against your seat with a sigh. You knew that look on his face. “Light it.” You mumble.

You guys were supposed to share a joint by the beach until he pushed you, then you got stuck in the car to warm up. You didn’t know that in his mind the joint was the main part of this rushed ‘date.’

Your excited boyfriend is not wasting any second to pull the joint out and light it. Chuckling at his urgency, you comment: “damn, I didn’t know you were that excited about it.”

Hamzah closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lung, sighing it out while resting his head back on the headrest. “Long week.” Was all he said in response. Passing you the joint without looking. “Tell me about it.” You held it between your thumb and index, bringing it closer to your lips. “Long year at this point.” Finally taking a drag.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement.

You shifted the joint between your fingers, the motion fluid, almost like a second nature—you moved it between your index and middle finger—making it more convenient for both of you. Your hand hovered near Hamzah’s lips. As you brought it closer, your fingers brushed softly against his lips—just a brief touch, but enough to send a quiet jolt through you. His lips parted slightly as he took a slow drag, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours for a moment. When he was done, he tapped your hand, the gesture almost careless, but the way his fingers lingered on yours said more than the action itself.

The sudden sensualness in the air must’ve been pent up. Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t kissed him today at all, or your body was still in need of additional warmth. Or maybe… you were making excuses because no one can resist your boyfriend; especially post hair-wash day when his curls are that defined.

His hand hesitated for a split second, just enough to make your heart skip. Then, with a subtle shift, his fingers grazed yours again—only this time, they lingered longer, almost deliberately. Slowly, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently but firmly guiding it away, as if it took everything in him not to harshly pull you closer. He leaned in, his presence warm against your aura, his lips meeting yours in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips hugging yours perfectly, that aroma of weed stuck to be tasted between you both. You pulled away, a bit knocked out of breath from the kiss. Hamzah chased your lips for a second before noticing that you were stopping to take it in, foggy smoke escaping his lips. “What about the joint?” You took the time to tease.

“Fuck the joint.” He could almost go unheard, not wasting any time to crash his lip against yours again. This time a little harsher, hungrier. You wanted to fight back, argue that you guys need to finish this joint that cost Hamzah money. Except it seemed like a lost cause to argue with him.

The way he was kissing you bubbled a giggle in your chest, slowly breaking away to let it out. Hamzah looking at you, a puzzled love dazed gaze falling from his eyes. His lips plumper than before, a pink hue reaching the top of his ears.

“Hamzah.” You say in between your giggles. “What… what?” He asked, a breathless laugh to mirror your expression. Smiling, your hands go up to cup his face. “I think this is our worst attempt in hotbox-ing a car.”

“Isn’t it better to do it later with Martin and Mandy?” He didn’t waste any time, kissing you after. You kissed back, your smile felt against his lips. You liked when he gets like this—it was rare but once you bent him up enough (not kissing him good morning) he can’t stop.

Your fingers curled the hair on the back of his head, opening your mouth slightly, Hamzah softly entering his tongue—groaning at the warmth of your mouth. Again, you pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting you both. You turn your head, turning off the joint by putting it in an open water bottle snuggled in the cup holder.

Hamzah looked at you when you turned back, expecting you to continue on. But you slipped your hands away from him, sitting back in your seat.

“Go back home, I need to change.”

Hamzah snarked, “leaving me hanging is not cool.”

“Your clothes are now wet too!”

“I don’t care!”

“Shut up. Home. Now.” Your tone was demanding but your smile held a shortsighted smile. Feeling a bit guilty for leaving him hanging, you kissed his cheek. “Sorry, baby. Promise I won’t leave you hanging when we’re at home.”

He reversed the car to pull out of the parking lot, a shy smile on his face. Humming to show his understanding.

Hotbox challenge: failed.

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #slushy virus #hamzah fluff #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #slushynoobz #deer’s reqs!

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