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vaguesxrrow · 1 year ago

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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE EDWIN X RECENTLY DEAD MALE READER!!!! I NEED MORE MLM READER STUFF AND ALSO I'M A SUCKER FOR THE LONG DEAD AND USED TO IT/THE RECENTLY DEAD CONFUSED AND SCARED THING!!!!

hii yes ofc ! lovedd writing this so i hope u enjoy reading :>>

edwin payne / recently dead!reader

a/n: reader's cause of death is unspecified aside from he died on the street, and also he has an apartment.

anddd uh i forgot that death usually comes for newly dead people... so excuse that inaccuracy please or explain it away with how reader ran away from his body

wc: 1886

tags: male reader, ghost reader

cw's: mention of death, panic attacks (all not detailed)

you ran, leaving your body behind you where it lay on the sidewalk, limp and as still as rigor mortis (you never thought that saying could be applied literally, but now it was, and wasn't that crazy?).

you were panicking, you vaguely registered, as the passerby's and the cars seemed to blur in your vision. people kept passing right through you, and you hunched in on yourself. even if you couldn't feel them (which was also a new, unwelcome epiphany), it still made your skin crawl.

until - a firm hand rested on your shoulder. your breath hitched, like you couldn't quite figure out if the touch was welcome or not.

"are you quite alright?" the hand's voice asked. you looked up, half expecting to see a horror movie-style ghost. instead, however, you were met with angled features that were sharp, yet softened by visible concern at the same time. the boy's brown eyes were narrowed, and his hair looked a little wind swept.

okay. definitely a welcome touch.

"can you hear me? are you alright?" he repeated.

you snapped out of your stupor. "oh," you said dumbly. "i- i don't... know."

he cocked his head to the side, sympathy in the way he pursed his lips and his gaze became gentler. "what do you last remember?"

"...i was walking. and then... i wasn't? it's kind of black after that. i was laying down when i came to..." your eyes widened. you meant to ask, 'am i dead?', but instead what came out was a strangled, "oh my god."

"it is important to remain calm," edwin advised. "i can help you."

you nodded vigorously. "okay, yeah, i could use your help." especially because your voice was getting an octave higher with every word you spoke. so much for remaining calm.

before you knew it, the boy had guided you to a bench and sat you on it, plopping down right next to you as he waited for you to regain your composure. his arm was around yours, securing you snugly to his side - it was comforting.

"i'm dead, aren't i?" you intoned numbly.

he sighed. "yes. but that does not mean everything is over."

"earlier... everyone just passed through me. like i wasn't there at all."

"it is lonely, at first. but then it is not," he said. "take my case for example - my best mate is charles - he's dead as well - and we have two alive friends named crystal and niko, who are part of the small proportion of people who can see us. when you find the right people, it becomes very difficult to feel lonely."

"charles, crystal, and niko..." you repeated. "and what's your name?"

"edwin payne."

"nice to meet you, edwin. and thanks for helping. i'm [name]."

"not a problem," edwin said. "my friends and i are often in the habit of assisting ghosts, although you are the first recently dead i have personally come across in a very long time."

"how long?" you inquired. "i mean, when did you... kick the bucket?"

"1916," he told you gently.

your eyes widened. "riiight."

you fell silent again. as you were contemplating your current circumstances, several voices yelled edwin's name.

approaching you were three people. two girls - one with white hair, the other with curly brown - and a boy with near-black ringlets.

"edwin, mate, we couldn't find you anywhere!" the boy exclaimed.

"yes, well-" edwin began.

"who's this?" the white haired girl cut in, looking at you curiously.

edwin rolled his eyes fondly. "this is [name]. he recently... became a ghost."

"does he know any cool ghost tricks yet?" she asked.

you thought you felt a headache coming on.

"[name], these are my friends. niko, crystal, and charles." he gestured to them in order of mention. they all waved at you, even if the last two looked a bit wary.

"hi," you said meekly.

"we were just discussing the events of [name]'s death."

charles coughed pointedly. "maybe give the guy time to process he even is dead?"

"oh! my apologies, [name]. are you still feeling unwell?"

your eyes darted between crystal and niko as they exchanged glances at edwin's apology, like they were surprised. it confused you as to why - he seemed perfectly nice so far... and very charming.

"i'm good," you told edwin, flashing a smile. "i just... don't know where to go. i can't go back to my apartment, can i? i'm dead. it's not like i could continue living there."

"i read somewhere that it's good to revisit places from the past," niko informed you earnestly. "it can be very healing."

"hey, edwin, you should walk him back to his apartment!" crystal piped up.

"hm?" niko cocked her head at her friend. "oh! oh, yes, edwin, you totally should. you're a dead boy detective, after all. go help people!"

you thought you'd get whiplash trying to keep up with the conversation. "you're a what now-?"

edwid stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust off his coat. "perhaps i will walk [name] back to his apartment. if you feel inclined to." the last part was directed at you.

"oh- i wouldn't want to inconvenience you guys..." you said.

"nonsense." he held out a hand to you. "we are the dead boy detective agency, after all."

you still didn't know what that was, but you trusted edwin in spite of only having known him for less than an hour. so, you took his hand. you couldn't feel it, but the imagined weight and warmth of his palm against yours gave you comfort, dissipating the fear and apprehension inside you just a little bit.

⌦ --

the apartment building loomed above you. suddenly, it felt so big and intimidating - you felt no trace of excitement at the quaintness of it like you always had before. the reason you chose to live here was the brick walls and the carefully tended vines snaking along the front. not to mention, it was tall - 10 stories - and sort of reminded you of rapunzel's tower.

"ready?" edwin prompted.

you nodded, and let him pull you through the door - which you passed through with ease. you knew you were incorporeal at best in your current state, but you still cringed, bracing yourself for an impact that never came.

"it gets easier, eventually," edwin told you, having noticed your unease.

"yeah, okay," you said. and you were convinced. "i guess it'll help having an experienced ghost guide with me." you beamed at him.

his lips parted slightly in surprise. "i promise to do whatever i can to make this adjustment easier for you."

you chuckled. "edwin, you are honestly so charming..." you muttered to yourself as you headed towards the elevator. another reason you loved this complex so much was because you didn't have to conquer the 10 floors with just the stairs.

how did ghosts usually travel up places? you had no clue, but you were grateful that edwin kept silent at your decision to take the lift.

a 'ding' sounded and the doors parted open, instantaneously revealing the door that led to your room. your landlady had been kind enough to let you paint it a lovely burnt orange colour.

"that's me," you sighed. "c'mon."

your apartment was just as you remembered you left it this morning. not that you'd logically expected any change... but the fear-addled part of you had maybe been picturing a ransacked room, band posters ripped off the wall and all your ceramic cups shattered across the floor.

"this is weird," you voiced as you drifted from the door to the couch, then to the small kitchenette.

you shivered, not from the cold - you would never feel cold again, you thought, a bit hysterically - but from the all-encompassing grief you felt for yourself.

"i'm kind of sad i died. i know i'm still here... i'm not gone gone, or anything, but i'm still sad. is that weird?" you turned towards edwin, who was watching you with an unidentifiable look in his eyes.

"not at all." he put a hand on your shoulder. "there is much more to be done, even after your living time has expired." he paused, seeming to consider something. "i could... i could show you, if you would like."

"show me what?"

"the dead boy detectives' office," he said. "perhaps it will serve as a distraction."

warmth spread inside you, touched at his thoughtfulness. "that'd be great."

"excellent." edwin smiled, looking pleased. "do you have a mirror?"

your iron-tight grip on edwin's hand never ceased its hold, even after the two of you emerged from the other side of the mirror. panting, you gave your insides a moment to settle from the very jarring travel.

"that was so cool," you gasped. "even if it was unexpected. is this what niko meant by cool ghost tricks?"

"quite," edwin said. "now, welcome to the dead boy detectives' office. allow me to show you around."

his hand was still in yours, you noticed as he led you to a bookshelf and gave an overview of the different volumes it held. you made no move to pull away - partially because you didn't want to break his flow (you saw why he was so proud of it, and it was cute hearing him ramble), partially because you enjoyed the contact.

then, he showed you to a shelf that, if you didn't know any better, would have looked like a knick knack shelf, albeit one belonging to an eccentric grandma. on it were objects ranging from bones (human or not, you couldn't tell) to the rubber balls you found in vending machines.

"these," edwin proclaimed. "are the more interesting payments we have received. some enchanted, some not. i keep a document of which are and aren't."

he picked up a metal ring, with a dark sapphire gem in the middle. "like this, for example. it isn't enchanted, but it dates back to the edwardian era. when i was alive." he sighed wistfully, and lifted your hand, where your fingers were still intertwined. "may i?"

you nodded, watching his face. his eyes met yours, and he smiled shyly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

"i acknowledge that we have only just become acquainted," edwin began. "but i have never become so fond of a boy this quick before."

"...so, in 21st century speak, you like me?" you questioned, half-teasing.

the two of you chucked in unison.

edwin cleared his throat. "yes, i think i do."

"then you won't mind if i..." you let the way you leaned down slightly finish your sentence.

"please," he said.

the kiss was chaste and fleeting, but it was enough for you to decide you definitely wanted to do it again.

"was that okay?" you checked in with edwin.

he nodded quickly. "yes, yes. very much so."

"good." you bit back a grin.

"would you like to stick around?" he blurted. "around the office, i mean, and with my friends and i. it isn't every day i meet a boy like you, and i... think i would rather like your company."

"i think i'd like your company, too," you admitted.

he held out a hand, making you laugh at the formality of it. "well then, welcome to the dead boy detectives' agency." he said. "i, for one, am very happy to have you here.”

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives x reader #dead boy detectives fic #edwin paine/reader #edwin paine x reader #edwin payne x reader #edwin payne #edwin payne x you #edwin payne/reader #edwin paine #dbdshow

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genevievefangirl · 8 months ago

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Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 5

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

if i could hold you for a minute By: hyperfixationbox @finleycannotdraw Rating: T Tags: Touch Starved, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers Summary: "The truth was, simply, that Edwin had never been hugged, in all his years of life and his decades as a ghost. His parents were faceless, formless haunts, more of a suggestion than a memory, and Hell didn’t exactly boast a comfortable or affectionate climate. Charles, though he was a very touchy person, always laying a hand on Edwin’s arm or nudging him with his knee, hadn’t ever hugged him until that night in Port Townsend. And Edwin couldn’t get it out of his head." - Edwin is touch-starved. Charles is touchy. They eventually reach the obvious conclusion, after talking about their pasts, their insecurities, their feelings, and what they mean to each other. This is a story about honesty, closure, comfort, and (of course) love!! My Notes: Touch starved Edwin who just wants to be hugged? Throw in some trauma, cuddles, and feelings realization and a great fic is born.

If I Should Die Before I Wake By: ThatMerryWandererOfTheNight The7thPlinth on twitter Rating: T Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Edwin and Charles are telling each other stories about heroes, gods, and monsters. But not everything is as it seems. What creature is lurking on the edges of their perception? And do stories have the power to change reality? This is my contribution to Day 2 of Painland Week 2024, Myths & Legends My Notes: This one was like a punch to the gut. It was a little confusing at first, but every subsequent reread gets better and better! The twist broke my heart! If the boys going through emotional trauma is your thing, this is the fic for you!

Impetuous Decisions In An Emergency By: DryadGurrl @dryadgurrl Rating: T Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Edwin is injured on a case, Charles goes a little feral and a lot scared, returned feelings are realized and everyone makes it out okay. or: 'The Case of the Infested Foundry' My Notes: Something about Edwin getting a hook in his shoulder really does it for me. Maybe there is something wrong with me lol

in the name of love and something deeper still By: imnotcryingipromise Rating: T Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: "No, I- I think it's sweet that you care about him -that you want to protect him or his feelings or whatever- but you can't be alone forever for his sake," Crystal explains, panically. Charles drops the girl's wrists then, turning his whole body away from her, the way a chided dog might cower in its cage. "Maybe I can. I definitely feel like being alone right now," he snaps. *** In which, during a romantic rendezvous, an obviously distracted Charles Rowland, admits to Crystal that he cannot stop thinking about Edwin. Expectedly, an argument ensues, leading to a startling realisation for the ghost boy. My Notes: Charles realizes that he loves Edwin, while snogging Crystal (ouch). He really does have the worst timing sometimes.

It Was Worth A Wound By: ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero) @ahyperactivehero Rating: T Tags: Werewolf, Case Fic, Protective Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Charles and Edwin take on a case with a werewolf and everything goes wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it. Charles gets hurt and he realizes exactly how strong Edwin Payne can be. (And maybe realizes he thinks his best mate is kind of hot along the way.) Day 3 of Painland Week- First Kiss/ Love Confession My Notes: Edwin getting all protective when Charles is hurt makes my heart happy.

It's Nice To Have a Friend By: Captain_Kieren Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Hurt Edwin, Protective Charles Rowland, Whump Summary: Charles and Crystal get Edwin out of the witch's house and take him home to recover. They're all shaken and drowning in grief, and some words need to be said. (A missing scene from episode 8.) My Notes: I love me some Edwin whump and this certainly qualifies. The trio dealing with all their emotions and trauma after Esther is very important to me and I love when fics explore it.

it's not fair how much i love you By: AWorldOnFire @aworldonfire Rating: G Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles loves Edwin so much it's almost unbearable. "There’s always been something special about seeing Edwin sleep. His face relaxes and, without fail, his curls seem find a way to escape whatever ghostly force has kept them permanently flattened to his head since his death. Edwin becomes slack and peaceful; the tension leaves his body and there’s nothing Charles can do to escape his gravity." My Notes: Another fic that bends the ghost rules so we can get sleep fics! The thought of them having a room in Crystal's flat with a bed in it is the sweetest thing ever!

just because it hurts, doesn't mean you're gonna die By: SuchASeeweedBrain @daffietjuh Rating: M Tags: AU - The Old Guard, AU - Immortal, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Crystal dies on a Tuesday afternoon. It feels so stupid. Who dies on a boring, gloomy, grey Tuesday afternoon in May? or The characters from DBD are not dead (sort of) but they do die a lot. Crystal is very confused, Charles would like to punch anyone who looks at Edwin wrong, Edwin would like to catch a break at some point this century and Niko is just happy to have made another friend. My Notes: I read this before I saw the Old Guard movie it is based on, but that did not hinder my enjoyment of it whatsoever! This really was such a fun ride! I mean, immortal characters on the run with a side of protective Charles? Yes please!

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) By: Anonymous Rating: T Tags: Case Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Edwin's Family Dynamics Summary: Walter R. Payne died one hundred and nine years ago in France. Walter R. Payne has not left France since, nor has his fellow soldiers. That is until a young psychic offers to help them move on. And better yet, the psychic knows Walter’s younger brother who he was not seen in over a century. Edwin Payne has was killed one hundred and eight years ago. It was not in active combat, like he expected. He never even made it into the army. He died in his school, and spent over half a century in Hell for it. Edwin has changed a lot in the last century, and he’s been perfectly content to ignore the memories of his short life in favor of his new afterlife. Until, a new case comes up involving his older brother. My Notes: I loved how this fic characterized the Payne family and Edwin's relationship to his parents and siblings. The outside POV was also very well done; it is nice to get a fresh perspective in fics. I find the Payne family so interesting as characters and this fic delivered on giving them the depth I crave.

lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate By: KiaraSayre @starsandatoms Rating: M Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Edwin in Hell, Angst, Aftermath of Torture, Edwin & Crystal are Besties Summary: Edwin is in Hell. Nothing is as it seems. My Notes: This is a very dark fic exploring Edwin's time in Hell with an interesting twist. If you love the relationship between Crystal and Edwin then this is the fic for you, they get a lot of time together in this.

That's the first 50 fics! Hope you guys are having as much fun with this as I am!

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breyito · 10 months ago

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Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.” His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket. “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left.

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years.

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch.

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back, and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed.

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside.

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down.

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back.

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled.

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard.

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped.

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street. But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical.

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .”

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin.

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue. They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again.

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled. She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight.

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her.

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications.

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical.

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use.

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch.

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper.

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup.

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy.

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

#fear your sins not your monsters #payneland #painland week #edwin payne #charles rowland #edwin x charles #dead boy detectives #dbda

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coloursflyaway · 1 year ago

Text

Possession

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: E

Word Count: 6.700

Read on AO3

“It’s an experiment of some sort”, Charles explains, putting one of his hands on Edwin’s thigh and aching for it. “You know when I kiss you and you don’t feel feel it, but you still feel it? Somewhere in your head, or soul, whatever. I wanna do that. I wanna touch you and see if I can make you feel that” or: How to overcome the limitations of your non corporeal form by just really, really wanting to.

„I wanna try something“, Charles says as he perches onto the sofa next to Edwin, excitement thrumming through his body in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The thing is, he might be onto something here, something huge.

Edwin doesn’t sigh when he puts down his book, but it seems to be a close thing; for once, it doesn’t matter, because Charles needs his attention and he needs it now. It’s not a new idea, more one he has been carrying with him for a few weeks now, but just a few minutes ago, when he looked over at Edwin, with his long legs and the graceful curve of his neck, his pink lips parted just so as he concentrated on his research, he suddenly felt a wave of desire wash over him. Desire to touch, desire to feel. And suddenly it had to be now.

“And what would that be, darling?”, Edwin asks, and although it’s nothing new at all, the term of endearment still makes Charles smile. It most likely will in a year from now, in a decade. In a century. “It’s an experiment of some sort”, Charles explains, putting one of his hands on Edwin’s thigh and aching for it. “You know when I kiss you and you don’t feel feel it, but you still feel it? Somewhere in your head, or soul, whatever.”

Edwin nods, a smile ghosting across his lips as he puts his hand over Charles’, holding onto it.

“I wanna do that. I wanna touch you and see if I can make you feel that”, Charles explains and squeezes Edwin’s hand, something he knows Edwin can sense somehow, because he does, too. “I wanna touch you everywhere, all the time, so bad. Please let me?”

There is no bed they can go to, but the sofa can be extended into one, because Crystal sometimes stays over if the investigations take too long. So, Charles reassembles the cushions, finds a blanket to spread across it, because even if Edwin mentions how their physical comfort won’t be impacted by these things, Charles will do this right. Edwin deserves one of those canopied beds fit for a prince, rose petals and champagne they cannot drink, but if they have to make due with what is available at the agency, then he will at least make the most of that.

“Lay down?”, he asks as soon as he is satisfied, and while Edwin looks like he isn’t quite sure what to do with his limbs, he settles down on the makeshift bed, looking up at Charles. On a whim, Charles kisses him softly, and he can feel it somehow, even if it is hard to explain, feels even more when Edwin sighs against his lips, reaches up to trail his fingers along the line of Charles’ jaw.

“So, what I am thinking”, Charles starts to explain, while he joins Edwin on the sofa, hovering above him, “is that I’m gonna touch you and I’m gonna tell you what I am doing, because your brain should remember how touch feels, even if it cannot experience it right now. And I… I think I’m also going to tell you what I think it would feel like, for me, just in case it helps.”

It will be awkward, especially at first, Charles is very aware of it, but it will be so worth it if it ends up working. And if not, at least they will have given it a good shot. Again, he leans down and kisses Edwin, who has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, before asking, “Is that alright?”

He expects a hint of hesitation, because Edwin is a lot of things but definitely not adventurous, but there is none; Edwin nods immediately, then laughs at his own eagerness. “I’m sorry”, he says, “It’s just that I haven’t much experience with any of this.” “I know. Neither have I.”

And saying it like that feels kind of incredible, actually, the thought of being Edwin’ first. Of Edwin being his. Of Edwin being his only, Charles corrects himself, because this, they, are forever.

“Okay, so”, he begins again, because otherwise he’ll get lost in the green of Edwin’s eyes and the curve of his smile and the beauty of just being near him, and they’ll end up snogging for half the afternoon. Which, to be fair, is not a bad way to spend a day, but not today. “I’ll be getting your kit off for a start. And then we’ll go from there, alright?” “Yes. I trust you.”

And he does, Charles knows that better than he knows himself.

It’s difficult to pull away from Edwin, but he does it anyway, sitting back on his legs so he can get at the buttons of Edwin’ shirt. He has undone them once before, right at the beginning when they met, because Edwin had been stabbed by an iron knife and while Edwin had insisted that he was fine, Charles had needed to see the wound, to tend to it. Back then, the moment when he had pulled back the singed white linen, he had decided that he would protect Edwin from whatever came their way, even if the skin he had uncovered had been pale and flawless.

No lasting wounds, Edwin had explained patiently, as if that cancelled out the pain of it, and had been utterly confused when Charles pulled him into a hug and promised him that he would never let it happen again anyway. He had kept his word.

Now, when Charles pushes Edwin’s shirts off his shoulders, his skin is just as flawless as it was that day, and suddenly, there is no more space left for reminiscing, because Charles wants to touch him so much it feels not like desire, but a physical need.

“I’m going to touch you now”, he tells Edwin, looking up at his pretty, pretty face for a moment, and finding Edwin staring back at him already, eyes wide and alert. “I’m going to kiss your neck, because I’ve been wanting to do that for ages, and if you feel anything, let me know.”

And that’s it, that’s all the time Charles can spare before leaning down and pressing his mouth against the sharp line of Edwin’s jaw, parting his lips to lick across the skin there. Edwin makes a sound above him, startled, but in a good way, then there is a long-fingered hand sliding through his hair, holding onto him, and Charles can feel it, at least the ghost of it.

Slowly, Charles makes his way down Edwin’s throat, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he can find, laving his tongue across it, and God, how he wishes he could taste Edwin there, the salt of his skin, feel the warmth of it. His hand slides over Edwin’s chest, trailing across his ribs, and even like this, it’s so good to just touch him, be this close.

“Charles”, Edwin breathes out above him, and it’s the hardest thing he has ever done, but Charles tears himself away from where he is currently smearing kisses against Edwin’s collarbone so he can look at him instead. “What?”, he asks, smiling when Edwin looks up at him, lips bitten red and pupils blown so wide they seem to swallow all the green of his eyes. It’s a good look on him, one that sets something within Charles’ soul on fire.

“Nothing”, Edwin replies, and he sounds wrecked, beautifully so. It makes Charles shiver. “Just. Don’t stop, please?”

He’s so beautiful like this, neck bared and chest heaving with breaths he isn’t taking, and Charles loves him so much it feels like an avalanche, a force of nature.

“You can feel it? When I kiss you like this?”, he asks, and Edwin nods, eyebrows drawing together. “Kind of. It’s like when we usually kiss, just more. And then there’s a tingling wherever you touch me, like nothing I have ever felt before.”

“I knew it would work”, Charles replies and grins, then strokes his hand down Edwin’s side just to watch his reaction. And react he does, shivering as his eyes follow the trail of Charles’s fingers, his lips still parted around a sound he doesn’t make.

“It feels good for me too”, he adds, because Edwin still seems dazed, just in case there was ever any doubt. “Like I’m hot all over, like all I ever want to do for the rest of time is to touch you. I can’t feel it, but I imagined that your skin would be warm and soft. And that I could taste it. I want to taste you so bad.”

Maybe it’s more of a confession than anything else, but it doesn’t seem like Edwin minds, because his eyes snap back up to Charles’ face, and finally, that sound spills from his lips. A broken, fragile thing, something between a moan and a gasp, and it’s like a bolt of pure, unfiltered lust strikes Charles, leaving him light-headed. He leans down and kisses Edwin without thinking, licking the last remnants of the sound from his mouth, then into it, until it feels like he is drowning.

“You like that? Me talking about how much I want to touch you?”, he asks when he eventually pulls back, their lips still brushing, and Edwin nods almost frantically. It’s so sweet, it’s so him, that Charles can’t help but smile and press a shorter, softer kiss to his lips. “Me too”, he confesses, “I want you to always know how much I love you. It took me a while, I know, but God, Edwin, my heaven would be just this. Laying here with you, kissing you, making you moan like that. Having you close.”

Again, Edwin makes a sound and it sounds even more wrecked than the last one, and Charles decides in that moment, that it won’t be enough until he has made Edwin fall apart completely. So, he drags his lips down Edwin’s throat again, kissing and re-kissing the skin there.

“If I could, I would leave a hundred marks on you”, Charles mutters between kisses. “Make sure that everyone knows you’re mine with only one glance. No more pretty crow boys pining after you, or weird immortal cat people not wanting to let you go.” He latches onto the skin just below Edwin’s collarbone and gives it a hard suck, imagining the skin reddening, a bruise blooming that would show the world that Edwin had made his choice.

“Charles!” The words startle a laugh from Edwin, the action turn it into a shaky moan, and once again, Charles has to look up at him, a smile playing on his lips. “No need to be possessive. You know I’m yours.” “I do. I just want everyone else to know it, too.”

Even though his eyes are still dark, Edwin is smiling, bright and happy under the veil of lust. “I love you the most”, he says, and it makes something familiar and warm and beautiful bloom in Charles’ chest. “You too”, he answers. “Always. But now, let me get back to making you moan my name.”

And he does, turning Edwin’ laughter to something much more breathless when he seals his lips around one of Edwin’s nipples and sucks, circling it with his tongue as if to soothe the sting a moment later. He can feel Edwin quaking under him, and there, right on the tip of his tongue, is a hint of remembered salt, the imagined sensation of soft flesh.

“Tell me what you feel”, Charles whispers against Edwin’s chest, his hands sliding down his sides, tickling along his ribs. “Tell me what you imagine it would be like.”

“It’s- it’s like I can feel it in my head”, Edwin gasps out, arching up when Charles presses a flurry of kisses to his sternum, before continuing on to Edwin’s other nipple. “The more you say, the more I see you touch me, the stronger it gets. And it’s more than just that, I can- I can sense your tongue on me. Your lips. Your hands. I can tell them apart.”

Almost as a reward, Charles leaves a kiss over Edwin’s unbeating heart, laving his tongue across the skin there, and he gets a sigh in response, a beautifully shaky breath.

“It’s like I can almost feel you”, Edwin says, and it’s all Charles wanted to hear. “The heat of your mouth and the slickness of your tongue. Even if there is no reason for it, I want you leave your marks on me. I want to see them tomorrow. I want to leave my own on you.”

This time, it is Charles who shivers, because oh, he craves that more than he could have imagined.

Instead of replying, he slides down Edwin’s body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses on Edwin’s stomach until he can drag his teeth across his hipbones, making Edwin moan low in his throat. Charles can sense the firmness there, hidden behind a layer of flesh and even this smallest sensation is painfully good, fills him with a heat that is almost unbearable and that he still craves more of.

His tongue flicks out and there it is again, a hint of salt.

“Can I…”, he starts, and nuzzles his cheek against the dip between Edwin’s hip and thigh, before looking up at him. The breath leaves Edwin with a hiss, his eyes slipping shut for a second or two. “Good God, Charles”, he replies, his voice deep and raspy. “Yes, yes, you can do whatever you want to me, just don’t stop.”

There is nothing in the world that could stop Charles, not when Edwin is looking at him like this, so he doesn’t waste a second before reaching out and… … and Edwin is hard against his hands.

Back when Charles was devising this plan, he expected the pleasure to be the same kind he feels when kissing Edwin, a mental kind of sensation, beautiful but still non-corporeal, just like the two of them are.

But now, Edwin is hard, straining against the seams of his pants, and Charles might be having an aneurysm caused by the absolute tidal wave of lust crashing over him, burying him, drowning him. Because Edwin is hard for him, and Charles never needed to touch him more.

“Fuck, Edwin, I swear-”, he stutters out, fingers slipping across the buttons, fumbling to get them open. Finally, he succeeds, and all but rips them down Edwin’s hips, uncaring that the fabric strains and he will get scolded for it later. Now, however, it doesn’t matter, because Edwin is hard, his cock flushed and pink and shining with precome, and Charles needs to touch him.

He brings a hand up to his lips and licks it – Edwin makes a sound at that, and the thought that he is watching him might be what finally does Charles’ mind in completely – before wrapping it around Edwin’s cock, giving it a long, slow stroke to savour the feeling, the silkiness of Edwin’s skin, the heat of his blood-warmed flesh. It’s so little still, yet it makes Edwin moan loud and broken and desperate, and when Charles looks up at him, his head is thrown back, his beautiful, long throat bared for Charles to kiss. Which he does, wet and messy, licking down the length from Edwin’s jaw to his collarbone, sucking where the tendons are standing out. He can feel the vibrations of Edwin’s moans against his lips with every stroke of his hand, and maybe this is the first time he is doing it, but Charles will be damned if he won’t find out every little thing that makes Edwin moan, every touch that makes him shiver.

“God, I love you”, he whispers against Edwin’s throat, drags his teeth across the sensitive skin there and twists his hand around Edwin’s cock on a downstroke to find out if it changes his pitch, deepens his pleasure. “I love you the most of everything in this whole world, thank you so much for letting me touch you, for-”

“Charles”, Edwin interrupts him, one hand sliding into his hair to make him look at Edwin, whose eyes are dark with lust, with wonder. “Charles, I can feel you.”

It makes Charles stop dead in his tracks, his hand coming to a rest mid-stroke and drawing a desperate little sound from Edwin, who is still looking down at him like he has performed a miracle. And maybe he has, because… because Charles can feel him, too.

“Edwin”, he breathes out, overwhelmed. He can feel the heat of Edwin’s skin against his, not as a memory or a spark, a thrum in his mind, but like skin. A moment passes in which he is frozen in place, then Charles surges forwards to kiss Edwin with everything he has, every bit of love and gratitude and eternal devotion.

This kiss is not their first, and it doesn’t feel like it either, but it is the first of its kind, and Charles drinks down every sound Edwin makes, brings his hand up to cradle Edwin’s face, stroke his fingertips along his jaw, down his throat. It makes Edwin shiver, and Charles laughs against his lips, still mindless, speechless.

“I can feel you”, Edwin mutters, and there are tears in his eyes, tinting his voice, and he’s so beautiful Charles feels like he is looking straight into the sun, it’s so blinding. “Me too”, Charles answers and Edwin’s smile grows wider still.

For a moment, it’s just that, and it’s enough, more than that, even, but then Charles remembers Edwin’s lust-darkened eyes, his body arching towards him, the feeling of Edwin’s cock blood-hot against his palm, and Charles needs to see him fall apart beneath him. “I’ll make sure you really feel me”, he tells Edwin with a wink, ignoring the tears in both their eyes, and gives him one more kiss before he slides his hand down Edwin’s body one more time.

His skin is soft, slightly slick, and so, so warm, and Charles gives him one, two strokes, just to watch Edwin move with the motion, chasing Charles’ touch, before he leans back in and kisses a line from Edwin’s lips to the hollow of his throat, dragging his teeth across the expanse of Edwin’s collarbones. It draws a soft moan from Edwin’s lips, so Charles does it again, while his hand speeds up around Edwin’s cock, alternating the pressure between strokes to find out what will make Edwin lose his mind the fastest.

L ike this, he might be the most beautiful Charles has ever seen him, reacting to every touch, every little kiss, and for a moment, Charles wonders what would have happened if Edwin had been permitted to grow up. If he would have found someone to love him like Charles loves him, if he would have permitted someone else to take him apart like this. However, in the end it doesn’t matter, because Charles is here now and he will do his best that Edwin never even has to think about anyone else.

He sucks an invisible mark onto the base of Edwin’s neck, another one over where his pulse point would be, and Edwin’s hips snap up, trying to get more friction and Charles is desperate for this, for everything else Edwin will give him. With the next upwards stroke, he twists his hand a little and Edwin moans so sweetly, one of his hands coming to rest on Charles’ lower back and pulling him closer. Charles moves willingly, like he does every time Edwin directs him, pressing against his side until there is pressure against his crotch, and. Oh.

Giving Edwin pleasure had been more than enough, but now Edwin’s hip is pressing against him and suddenly, Charles notices that he is achingly hard inside his pants. His hand stutters around Edwin’s cock as his hips give a few uncoordinated, messy thrusts, Charles moaning against the crook of Edwin’s neck. “Charles, are you-”, Edwin asks, sounding downright debauched in how he moans Charles’ name, and it’s enough to snap Charles back to thinking, to acting.

“Of course, I’m hard”, he answers against Edwin’s skin between kisses, his hand returning to stroking Edwin slowly, deliberately, “I’m touching you, I’m listening to you, how could I-” His words leave him when Edwin pulls him closer still, on purpose this time. Instead, he moans, smears his kisses onto Edwin’s skin, bites them into his flesh.

It feels like heaven, but it’s still not enough, because Edwin is still coherent enough to talk while Charles feels like he is slowly losing his grip on reality. So, he pulls his hand away from Edwin’s cock for a moment, licks it messily to slick up the glide when he returns it to where it belongs, only that…

… only that he can taste Edwin on his skin.

He shouldn’t be able to pinpoint it so easily, but he can, maybe because he hasn’t tasted anything in three decades, because when he darts out his tongue again, he cannot taste the salt of his own sweat, only something different, musky. Only Edwin.

The realisation rips through him, leaves him light-headed and almost blind with lust. Beneath him, Edwin whines, most likely because of the lack of contact, but Charles can hardly hear him over the desire coursing through his veins.

“Edwin, I can taste you”, he slurs, half as an explanation, and it feels like crying, feels like praying. This time, he doesn’t wait for an answer, however, because Charles can taste him, and it’s not enough. Won’t be enough until his tongue is coated in Edwin’s taste, warmed by his body heat.

Without another word, h e slides down Edwin’s body, wraps one hand around his cock again and swallows down as much of him as he can. He’s warm against Charles’ tongue, the skin soft and smooth, and he tastes like the only thing Charles will ever taste again and it’s more than he could have ever asked for.

Edwin’s hips buck up, but Charles’ gag reflex died with him, so he doesn’t care, just starts bobbing his head in time with Edwin’s thrusts, caught between the slick sounds of his own lips sliding against skin and Edwin’s gasps, his moans of Charles’ name. The hand that slides into his curls, not pushing, just holding onto something, the lust that comes in waves with every new sensation, and, of course, Edwin’s taste across his tongue, seeping into his very being.

“Charles”, Edwin forces out, almost coherent, and Charles understands the warning as what it is, then ignores it thoroughly. There is no way Edwin is coming anywhere but down his throat. So he picks up his rhythm, brings down his second hand to cup Edwin’s balls, and sucks as hard as he can.

Edwin comes with a shout of Charles’ name, bucking off the makeshift bed almost violently. His hand tightens in Charles’ hair until he can feel the pinpricks of it, his muscles shaking, and Charles can taste him more clearly than anything he has ever tasted before. It’s heaven, kneeling right there between Edwin’s thighs and sucking him through his orgasm, licking him clean afterwards, smoothing his hands across the soft plane of Edwin’s stomach. Feeling him, tasting him.

When the last aftershocks have subsided, Charles settles down next to Edwin, curling up close, and watches as Edwin’s eyes slowly open once mor e. T hey are hazy, but full of adoration, a lazy smile spreading across his kiss-red lips. “ That was incredible”, he whispers, because Charles is close enough that he can hear it anyway. And he presses a kiss to his lips that Charles can still feel, rests their foreheads together, and it’s everything, because Edwin is everything.

Only that then, he pulls away, and Charles almost whines because he shouldn’t be forced to spend a second not touching Edwin when he can feel it, and when he doesn’t yet know if this is something that will wear off with time again. But Edwin doesn’t go far, only enough to look at Charles with eyes that are slowly regaining their green, his thick brows furrowed just so.

“You… didn’t, though”, he says, and he’s right, but for a moment, Charles wants to tell him not to worry about it anyway. Because being here, being close is enough, would always have been enough for Charles, had they realised that this didn’t work. He saw Edwin fall apart beneath his hands and his mouth, heard him gasp out his name, tasted him and felt him, and really, that is more than he ever could have hoped for.

However, Edwin has other plans, quite obviously, because he shifts so he can press the side of his thigh against Charles’ aching erection and suddenly, Charles isn’t sure if that is an option any longer. It’s like Edwin’s touch reignites every spark of lust in his body, and maybe that even makes sense, since it’s the only thing Charles has felt in decades.

He lets out a low moan, hips grinding forward, and Edwin is kissing him, smiling against his lips, moving one of his hands to lightly rest on Charles’ stomach. Asking for permission, quite clearly, which he quite obviously can have, because there is nothing Charles wants more than Edwin’s hands on him.

Only that there is.

“Edwin”, he gasps out, trying his best not to lose his mind as Edwin’s hand slips underneath the waistband of his trousers, teasing. “Have you ever heard of a refractory period?” A moment of pause, then Edwin says, “No, but what has that to do with anything?”

Everything.

He leaves Edwin on the makeshift bed for a few moments and hunts down the hand lotion Crystal keeps around for when the dust in the office gets too much for her delicate skin, makes a mental promise to never let her find out about this, and to make up for it somehow. Because right now, he doesn’t what else to do, but use it.

Edwin is still naked and glorious when he returns, looking like the kind of lover that would have inspired poetry in the past, the kind Edwin sometimes reads him at night when they are curled up on the sofa. His hair is mussed, his lips are cherry red and he is watching Charles with curious, half-lidded eyes in a way that makes Charles feel loved and wanted and a little bit like prey.

“So, the thing is this”, Charles says, dropping the lotion bottle on the sofa and starting to shuck off his shirt. “I really need to feel you inside of me.” The words draw a sound from Edwin, choked and disbelieving, and Charles allows himself a smile as he discards his shirt and vest, starts to work on his trousers. He doesn’t get far, though, because Edwin surges up and replaces Charles’ fingers with his own, sliding down the zipper while looking up at him from dark eyes.

And what a picture he makes, sitting there on the bed naked, right in front of Charles, ready to be kissed, ready to be touched.

“You want that?”, Edwin asks, and Charles credits Niko’s manga collection with the breathless understanding painted across his face, thanks her for it silently. He’s not sure if he could make it through an anatomy lesson right now, when he feels like he is going to explode if he doesn’t feel Edwin soon. “More than anything”, Charles answers, and it’s like Edwin’s breath catches in his throat, at least the sound of it. “You have absolutely no idea.”

His trousers drop to the floor and neither gives them a second thought, Edwin because he looks at Charles like he has never truly seen him before, Charles because Edwin is right there, beautiful and willing to give him this, and always, always loved. Without wasting a second, Charles pushes his briefs down and Edwin makes another sound, wounded and almost desperate this time, and while he hasn’t touched Charles much yet, his hands are suddenly all over him. Trembling fingers run along his sides, smooth across his thighs, then Edwin leans in and presses a kiss to Charles’ stomach, another and another until Charles has to push a hand into his hair to stop him.

“Edwin, babe”, he breathes out shakily, almost moaning when Edwin nuzzles the skin below his navel, “can’t do that right now, or otherwise we won’t get very far at all.” It takes a moment, but then Edwin looks up, so smug that Charles falls in love with him all over again. “Next time, though?”, he asks and Charles nods immediately, light-headed because this is not only a possibility now, but a promise. “Good. I want to know how you taste. How you feel against my lips. I have never touched another man before, but I want you to be the first.”

“Edwin!” Charles is half-laughing, half-groaning; he cannot listen to this now, or probably ever. So, he pushes Edwin back onto the mattress with a gentle, but firm hand, and Edwin goes willingly, sprawling onto the mattress like an oil painting, like the wet dreams Charles can hardly remember having. His skin gleams in the dim light of their office, his hair is a mess that Charles’ hands have caused, and…

Charles feels like he might faint the hundredth time this day, because right there across Edwin’s throat, painted in dusty pink, the marks Charles has been trying to suck onto his skin are glistening.

Faintly, he is aware that he is breathing out a moan, because one of Edwin’s eyebrows rises, but it doesn’t matter, the only thing that still matters is that Charles’ lips have left traces on Edwin’s perfect skin. “Fuck”, he mutters under his breath while he clambers back onto the sofa, limbs uncooperative with his sudden desperation, until he is straddling Edwin’s thighs and can kiss him again fiercely, first his lips, then the side of his jaw, the soft skin of his throat, already marked and yet still far too pristine. Without hesitation, Edwin bares his throat to him, and Charles takes the invitation, bites at the tendons there, before licking the sting away once more.

“Edwin, I can see them on you”, he groans against his skin once he can think again, hands grabbing every bit of Edwin they can find, “there’s marks on your skin, my marks.” The sound Edwin makes is almost wounded; he pulls Charles closer, one hand coming up to press his head against the crook of his neck, and Charles opens his mouth and bites him there, sucks at the flesh until he can feel its heat.

You’re mine , he thinks, although it’s nonsensical, because Edwin has never been anyone else’s, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine .

At the same time, he’s reaching for the bottle of lotion, because as much as he needs to see his claim on Edwin’s skin, he needs to feel him so deep inside of him that he’ll never forget the sensation.

“Charles, let me”, Edwin breathes out when he realises what he is doing, but Charles just shakes his head, unwilling to let go of Edwin for even a second. “It’ll be quicker if I do it”, he explains, words spoken against the slick, warm skin of Edwin’s collarbone. “Can’t feel my own fingers, can I?”

Edwin chokes at that, but he doesn’t disagree, only grips Charles’ back and drags him forward, causing Charles’ cock to be caught between them, sliding against Edwin’s stomach, and it feels like dying . Pleasure shoots up Charles’ spine, filling him to brim, and before he knows it, he is gasping against Edwin’s neck, doing his best to still his hips, because he could come like this within minutes, if not seconds.

He takes a shaky breath, trying to calm himself, before prying the bottle of lotion open, still almost desperate as he blindly squeezes some of it on his fingers. It feels like nothing at all, just like everything but Edwin does, but Charles reaches behind himself and finds his entrance, wasting no time before shoving two fingers inside of himself. This, too, is only a matter of faint pressure and the awareness of his hand’s position, but maybe it’s for the best, because Edwin’s fingers are leaving tracks of fire on his bare back, tickling along his sides and sliding against the nape of his neck, tender and possessive at the same time.

Scissoring his fingers, he mouths at Edwin’s throat again, cock dragging against his stomach when Charles pushes his fingers deeper still. Sparks of pleasure tingle through his limbs, setting his blood on fire, and Charles is faintly aware that he is moaning, his hips rolling against Edwin desperately. The memory of his muscles is easily coaxed into giving in, and Charles adds a third finger as soon as the pressure around them fades, because even if they technically have forever, it feels like he might die if he doesn’t feel Edwin inside of him soon.

For now, though, he loses himself in the pleasure of Edwin’s fingers, in the drag of his cock between their bodies, and it’s only when Edwin mutters his name against the crown of his head that he resurfaces, nipping at Edwin’s throat once more before pulling back slightly, resting his chin on Edwin’s mess of a collarbone to look up at him. He’s beautiful from every angle, at every moment, and yet he looks impossibly so now, staring down at Charles with something like awe in his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

“I love you”, Edwin tells him, and Charles feels like dying, feels like he has come alive again. “I love you, too”, he answers, and it’s everything and more than he could ever has asked for and something he will never get enough of.

He surges up to kiss Edwin like his whole existence depends on it and Edwin kisses back with the same fervour, and Charles needs him more than he has ever needed anything before.

Although it is impossibly difficult to leave the warmth of Edwin’s skin, he pushes himself up, fingers slipping out, and maybe he is stretched enough, maybe it will hurt; Niko’s manga only shows so much about the process, and Charles hadn’t bothered to do more than perfunctory research otherwise. And anyway, he realises, while he sits back on Edwin’s thighs, trembling and looking down on the blotchy mess he has made of Edwin’s throat, maybe he wouldn’t mind a hint of pain, as long as if it was caused by Edwin.

When he looks down, his cock is leaking and so is Edwin’s, and it’s everything he never thought they could have, and maybe there is something poetic and poignant about that; maybe he will have to ask Edwin about it later. For now, it doesn’t matter, because Charles is burning up inside, every non-corporeal atom of his body aching for Edwin’s touch, his kisses, his hands on him.

“I’m gonna-”, Charles starts, squeezing more lotion on his hands and forgetting how to speak halfway through the sentence, because Edwin is watching him with so much desire in his eyes that it scrambles his brain. “I’m gonna touch you.” And he does.

Edwin’s cock is hot and silky in his hand, twitching as Charles spreads the lotion across his skin, and Charles has to stop himself from leaning down and tasting him again. They’ll have time for that later, he tells himself, and it is true and yet something Charles can hardly believe they will be granted.

Instead, he gives Edwin two, three slow strokes, watches the muscles under his skin work as Edwin chases his touch, fire burning him up. It’s like a physical need buried inside him, a void only Edwin can fill, and Charles knows he is trembling when he rises up on his knees, shaking when he positions himself awkwardly above Edwin’s lovely, leaking cock.

“I love you”, he tells him again, for no reason but that he wants to taste the words, and slowly lowers himself down onto Edwin’s cock. It’s strange at first, the pressure and the single point of warmth where they are touching, but then his body gives way and Edwin is inside of him, and the feeling is indescribable.

There is a hint of pain, like an after image from staring too long into the sun, but it’s nothing, hardly worth mentioning, because Edwin is hot and firm, spreading him open and moulding a space for himself inside of Charles’ body where he belongs, setting him aflame from the inside in the process.

He’s moaning Edwin’s name, hands pawing at his chest, and then Edwin reaches out and pulls him down, kisses Charles like he has never been kissed before. Edwin’s hands are on his shoulder and in his hair and it makes Edwin’s cock shift inside of him, and Charles is lost in this. His hips roll to get more friction, making Edwin gasp into his mouth, so he does it again, and again, and again, until they are moaning against each other’s lips, fingers trying to find purchase to ground themselves.

Every motion makes sparks fly up Charles’s spine, tingling down his arms to the tips of his fingers, and then Edwin rocks up in time with him, causing his cock to slide even deeper, and Charles moans like the sound was punched out of his lungs. He is clinging to Edwin now, grinding down onto him, and he could cease to exist like this happily, because Edwin is all around him, inside of him, on the tip of his tongue.

The friction is enough to make him gasp, almost makes him weep, but Edwin rolls his hips like he is trying to drive Charles out of his mind and some angle, some detail must change, because the head of his cock drags against a spot inside of Charles that makes him see stars.

He all but shouts out Edwin’s name, grinding down against him to get more of the pleasure, and Edwin gives it willingly. His teeth catch on Charles’ bottom lip as his hand slides down to rest on Charles’ thigh, gripping it like he needs to hold onto him to keep his sanity, and Charles understands it perfectly. “You feel so good”, he slurs into Edwin’s mouth between desperate rolls of his hips, and Edwin makes a little, wounded sound, holds him tighter. “I love you so much, I love you so much.”

Edwin seems to be beyond words, but that is okay, because he is still kissing Charles like he is drowning, fucking up into him just right, and Charles is lost in the motion and the pleasure and the love, until Edwin sneaks a hand between their bodies and grasps his cock.

And it’s too much.

It doesn’t even take a single stroke before Charles is coming, bucking up desperately into Edwin’s hand, grinding down onto his cock. The pleasure is unlike anything he has ever felt before, overwhelming him completely and leaving him breathless until he cannot tell where Edwin ends and he begins. His body is alight, and he is burning up and he couldn’t ask for anything better, so he sobs his love and devotion into Edwin’s open mouth and knows he will be heard.

It only takes a few moments longer until Edwin follows him, thrusting up into Charles’ willing body, holding him close, and if there is anything that feels better than falling apart around Edwin, it’s feeling him do the same underneath of Charles, because of him.

They ride out their orgasms together until Charles is weak and trembling above Edwin, all but collapsing on his chest. Slender arms come up to wrap around his middle, and Charles has felt loved before, feels loved every day now, but the motion still brings tears to his eyes as he snuggles into Edwin’s embrace.

For a long while, neither of them speaks, although there are a thousand things to be said, at least half of them I love you, but there are no words left in Charles’ mind.

Eventually, he presses a kiss, soft and sweet and tender, against one of the bruises he has left on Edwin’s collarbone, and Edwin’s arms tighten around him in response. And maybe that is all that needs to be said, after all.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #painland #paynland #charles x edwin #i cannot stop writing them it is insane #this is almost 7k of just them loving each other so so so so much and finally being able to do something about it (handjobs etc)

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regretsofaghost · 5 months ago

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Part 4- you'll always be my closest friend, I lost myself but I struggled too, so please tell me, was I good to you?

AO3 link to chapter 4- here Tumblr link to chapter 3- here Tumblr link to chapter 5- here

Word count- 1000 words

He was running.

It was one of the first things he learned to do, in this new place, in this new circle of Hell that he had found himself in.

He was boring, predictable.

He had cried too much.

He had been traded twice for these offenses, twice given away for something else because it was boring to deal with him. Traded to something that was monstrous in size, who laughed and giggled down the corridors.

Who wanted a chase more than anything else.

There was no use trying to hide, no use cowering-

That could not stop him though.

His legs burned and ached, blood was running down one calf from where he nicked a sharp corner of something, a few corridors before.

Time could not be measured, should not be measured.

It just made despair all the stronger.

“Do you understand what you are squandering?”

He was so close, so close to that next door, so close to that next level, to seeing what he would face next, after- after- after-

Blood, blood everywhere.

Meat-

Edwin’s stomach rolled.

“All these attempts, all this suffering, just for you to go and drink yourself silly? For what? A moment of fun?”

He gripped his arm tightly, the blood slipping between his fingers as he tried to hold the gash closed, tried to keep running.

This attempt was a wash, but that just meant he had to learn as much as he could before the Thing caught him.

The level he had found, it had to be Gluttony, with the people gorging themselves to sickness, who would grab him and vomit on him and-

He pushed his way through the crack, to gather more information on Gluttony, trying his best to ignore the sickly-sweet smell that permeated his senses as he ran, looking, always looking, for the exit.

“You tried again and again, have you so easily forgotten what you are running from Edwin Payne?”

He was lying in bed, listening for the other boys’ breathing to even out, before allowing himself to finally relax.

It was terrifying, sleeping in the same room as boys who hated him.

He was unsure, how often he had woken up to horrible pranks, how many times he had been woken up by boys restraining him as they brought bugs and mice close to his face, as they tried to force moldy food into his mouth-

It was a favourite of theirs, to hold him down, the glee in their eyes obvious as he struggled, as he strained to get free, they liked the fight he had in those moments.

"Even in life you suffered. You have been given a gift by my superior. I hate to watch you squander it.”

He was curled into himself, harsh, panting breaths left his mouth as he tried to silence himself, eyes searching, always searching, for the next exit, the next puzzle, the next level of Hell and what it had in store for him.

The Thing could not be far, it never was.

Edwin doubled over, falling to his knees, hands clenching around the fabric of his knickerbockers, shaking too much to stand back up, though he desperately wanted to.

To prove, something, to the Night Nurse. That she had not broken him.

“I hope I do not need to explain why it is in poor form to deal with clients while inebriated. That is what is waiting for you, should you prove less than useful to the Lost and Found Department.” The Night Nurse’s voice was clear, crisp, tidy where she stood in their office, file held close to her breast. “And I do not imagine that Hell would take kindly to someone who had successfully escaped its grasp twice.”

Edwin could feel his fingernails digging into his skin as he sat on the ground, trying to will the tears from his eyes away.

He did not know why he was crying, it was no worse than being there.

Only-

Maybe it was.

Because the Night Nurse had watched, the entire time, and Edwin could not see her expression, too preoccupied with thinking he was back there to examine her.

He could not imagine empathy, pity, anything on her face other than indifference.

Because he had proved to be a disappointment.

“Do you understand Edwin? Why I showed you this?” Her voice broke through the fog that had surrounded his thoughts, that muddled his brain like he was looking through a murky glass bottle.

“I do,” he replied, hating, loathing, how weak he sounded.

Edwin could not believe he had been reduced to this.

How could Charles tell her.

“Good. I will be expecting an increase in solved cases if this is how you have been spending your time otherwise. Reports from both you and Charles are due at the end of every week as well, to ensure you are on task.”

Edwin bit his tongue. “Understood.”

In a burst of flames, she was gone.

Charles had been sent away while she dealt with Edwin’s punishment.

He had refused to look at Charles, could not bear it.

It had always been the two of them.

How could Edwin have believed nothing had changed.

He took a deep breath, and there was a moment when he wished he had a mirror he could view his reflection in, to see if he looked as out of sorts as he felt, if it were obvious that he had been put through Hell again, and again, and again, until the Night Nurse believed he understood.

Understood what?

How easy it would be to be sent back there of course.

Maybe the Night Nurse had gone to retrieve Charles, had gone to report back to his best friend.

Edwin walked to the bookshelf, pulling out the white book he had been studying for weeks at this point.

Charles did not know.

Edwin was going to tell him.

Then Charles had told the Night Nurse about the potion.

About the boys.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #dbda #my writing

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edwin-paynes-bowtie · 5 months ago

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Somehow Edwin Payne to me is the exact opposite of Ben Gross and I don't know how to explain that better. Please help

#this is edwin (affectionate) and ben (derogatory) btw

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asidian · 11 months ago

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F for the Fic Writer ask game, please!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh, man. Bold to assume I remember my own dialogue after I've written it.

Um, okay, these are probably not all-time favorites or anything because my brain writes over things like an Etch-a-Sketch after I post things and kick them out into the world, but I'm going to say, recent things that come to mind:

The entirety of Sharing.

God, writing this fic was painful. Cannot possibly recommend writing a seven-way conversation about serious-business topics. It was like pulling teeth.

But! I got it done, and I feel like the characters' voices came through, and somehow it went more or less where I wanted it to go.

I was also quite proud of the conversation at the start of Pixie Dust, for its pacing, playfulness, contrast between the character voices, and, lets be real, the opportunity to write the ever-put-together Edwin Payne saying truly humiliating bullshit.

"Alright then," says Charles. "Up you get." "I'll have you know that I am perfectly fine where I am," says Edwin. He says it crisp and proper, careful in the way of a bloke who's properly trollied and busy pretending he's not. "Sure, mate," says Charles. "Cause you're all about naps in the middle of a bloody hedge maze. Big hobby of yours, yeah?" It's a brilliant hedge maze, honestly – posh and put-together. Fountain at the center, flowers round some of the bends. Somebody's got to be out here trimming it every other day. It'd be better if it wasn't for the mushroom circle Edwin's lying in the middle of just at the moment, but there's no helping it when it comes to pixies. Bloody menaces, the lot of them. Charles kneels down by Edwin's side and gets an arm around him – levers him up to sitting. Edwin blinks, slowly, like he's some sort of owl that just got walloped upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "I am not prone to naps at all," he declares, as though he suspects Charles has gone daft. "I know," says Charles. "Funny, innit? But here you are." Edwin blinks again. He looks down at the mushroom circle, and then up at Charles. "Charles," he says. "You have the most remarkable eyelashes." "Right," says Charles, and hauls him up to standing. "Time to get you home, mate." Edwin staggers, and Charles loops an arm around him. Odds are good he'd have gone right over, otherwise. He's listing like he's well and truly off his face. "Your eyes as well," Edwin says. "They are quite fetching, framed by those cosmetics of yours." "We'll just pop inside, yeah?" says Charles, guiding him toward the entrance of the hotel. "Posh place like this'll have a mirror in the lobby." "And your mouth is really quite fascinating," says Edwin. "I find myself distracted by it from time to time, truth be told." "One foot in front of the other," says Charles. "There's a good lad." Edwin leans in a bit more, and for just a tick, Charles thinks he's going to go down. He's not, though. He's just sort of – nuzzling, a little. "I think about kissing you quite a lot," Edwin says. "I rather like kissing you, you know." Charles rather likes kissing him, too. The past couple months have been pretty brills, honestly, after he got himself sorted and had a sit-down with his feelings. He's never been in love with anyone before, but he's in love with Edwin Payne, he thinks, if he's got any idea what love is at all. He's in love with Edwin's smile, and the way he steeples his fingers upside down before he makes a right tosser of himself, and how he bloody sashays across a room like he owns it, and how properly invested he gets on board game nights, and – well, kissing him. That, too. But there's a time and a place, really. "If we were to kiss now, no one would be able to see us," says Edwin. "Regardless of how thorough we chose to be." "Bloody hell," says Charles. "How much of that stuff did you get on you?" He leans back, slightly, to get a better look at Edwin, who's smiling faintly, pupils entirely blown. "Quite a lot," says Edwin, serenely. "I think I may have swallowed some." "Course you did," says Charles, and walks the both of them straight through the wall into the hotel lobby. "Bloody fairy circles are nothing but trouble."

#bg3 #dead boy detectives #ask game

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perseidlion · 1 year ago

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In the Skin of a Cat (Dead Boy Detectives)

In the Skin of a Cat (13179 words) by perseid_lion Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, The Cat King | Thomas/Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas/Monty Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas, Charles Rowland (DCU), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives) Additional Tags: Possession, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Roleplay, Identity Swap, Magic, Pining, Mutual Pining, Shapeshifting, Crack Treated Seriously, POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Loves Charles Rowland, pov edwin pane, Bisexual Male Character, Gay Male Character, Coming Out, Gay Bar, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland (DCU), Charles Rowland Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, bisexual awakening, Romantic Comedy, Comedy, The Dreaming Realm (The Sandman), Hormones, Pansexual Character, pansexual awakening, First Time, Non-Graphic Smut, Identity Issues Series: Part 2 of Perseid_Lion's Dead Boy Detectives Summary:

The Cat King is in London, and he offers Edwin the chance to take his body for a spin. Edwin learns what it is to be alive again - but also to be seen by the world as a different person. Having Cat's libido could be a dangerous thing.

Please note that the pairings tagged aren't super straightforward because it is a possession fic!

Chapter 1

‘Your theory is…sound. But I don’t quite understand why you would want to offer me this. It is still a theory as well, and not without risk.”

“True,” said the Cat King. “But nothing worth doing is without a bit of risk.” He paced around Edwin, sweeping his eyes up and down him. “If I don’t fight you - which I don’t intend to,” he smiled toothily, “Then no crime has been committed. And besides, the prohibition is against ghosts possessing humans. And I’m not human.” He smiled wide enough to display his pointed canines, golden eyes flashing with mirth.

They were standing in a mostly empty flat in Central London where Cat had taken up residence for the time being. They had seen each other a few times since his relocation, and Cat had even been helpful on a case or two. But there was still a great deal of tension between them.

“That still doesn’t explain why you are offering to let me possess you. That is simply the logic for why I may not get into trouble for doing so,” said Edwin as he pinched his hands into fists and stood with his back soldier-straight.

Cat was wearing his trademark garish attire of a calf-length skirt and a black mesh shirt, with the addition of cropped black faux fur coat. He was prowling around Edwin, looking him over with open lasciviousness. “Because you deserve to feel, Edwin. I know that you have known mostly pain for far, far too long.” He stopped in front of him. “Let me take some of that away for a short while, hmmm?” Then he leaned in and whispered into Edwin’s ear, “I’d love to have you inside me.”

There were moments when Edwin doubted his own sexuality, wondering instead if he was just the sort to not be with anyone. But then Cat or Charles would do something that would cause a visceral reaction even though he was not, in fact, in possession of any viscera. Now was one of those moments. Cat’s words, coated in double entendre, made him draw in a sharp breath he didn’t need.

“Are you so desperate for intimacy? Is that why you came up with this scheme?” barked Edwin, the snarkiness a reaction to him feeling off-balance.

“Oh, ouch,” said Cat dramatically as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re lucky I like it when you’re a bitch.”

Edwin’s cheeks flushed and even though it was difficult he stood up even straighter. “I apologize. That was rude of me.”

“I can’t stay mad at you,” said Cat as he reached up to straighten Edwin’s bowtie. “Come on. Admit it. You’re curious. You want to know what it’s like to feel alive again. Think of it as an academic exercise. You’d also get to know what it felt to be something other than human. Surely that could come in handy with your work?” He gave Edwin a pouty, begging sort of look, his eyes as puppyish as a cat could make them.

Edwin was very, very tempted. His recent trip to Hell had reintroduced him to the concept of pain, as had Esther’s subsequent torture. That had been the only thing he’d felt in decades, and he did long for the more pleasurable and pleasant types of sensations of the sort the Cat King was now offering.

The other part he refused to admit to himself was that he was deeply curious to know what it would be like to be him, in particular. There was no use denying his attraction, or his fascination - which fell into step with his annoyance and distrust. “If we do this…”

Cat’s face lit up.

“...what are the ground rules?” finished Edwin.

“Ground rules?”

“Yes, what am I allowed to do? What is off-limits? There simply must be rules,” said Edwin.

“Must there?” said Cat. “I trust you, Edwin. You wouldn’t do anything improper, more’s the pity,” he drawled. “But if you wanted to be improper, you have my permission.” He extended his arms.

“For what, exactly?” asked Edwin.

“Surprise me,” said Cat, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I know you’re not…worldly when it comes to things of a physical nature. How could you be? I can’t imagine you’d do anything I wouldn’t gladly do myself.”

Edwin had to admit that was likely true. Still, “If we do this I don’t intend to get frisky in your body, if that’s what you’re implying!”

Cat could tell Edwin’s resolve was wearing down, and it made him more and more pleased. “Of course you don’t intend to,” he said, with a particularly long, drawn-out purr over the word intend. “Besides, you can always talk to me. If you don’t push me aside, I’ll be able to see and hear everything. If you somehow start doing something I don’t like, I’ll be able to tell you.”

Edwin wanted a very good and logical reason to say no. But Cat had systematically removed any and all obstacles. Cat knew he was tempted, knew some part of him wanted to do it. So without any real and solid reasons to reject it…

“All right.”

Cat clapped and did a little dance.

“But at the first sign of trouble…” Edwin held up a finger.

“...I’ll kick you out. Believe me, I don’t want to draw unwanted attention either.” Cat cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders back and held his arms out. “Go ahead.”

“Right now? Oh my.” Edwin swallowed. He realized too late he should have negotiated some time to think about it. But then he prepared himself by rolling his neck and focusing on Cat. He’d only possessed people a handful of times, and usually in desperate circumstances. That led to both he and Charles having to escape quite quickly, usually through a mirror, as the possession of a human drew immediate attention of Lost and Found.

But now he and Charles were working for Lost and Found, and Cat’s theory about him both not fighting it and being nonhuman made sense to Edwin from what he knew of the rules. It was the psychic struggle with a human soul that raised alarm bells, and Cat’s plan involved neither a struggle nor a human soul.

Edwin could no longer delay the possession. He either had to jump into Cat’s body, or walk away. His academic’s brain was too curious about the experience on offer to do the latter. So, after shaking his lanky limbs out and preparing himself, he strode forward and willed himself into Cat’s body, rather than manifesting solidness or passing through him.

The experience of possessing Cat immediately felt different. Normally, when a ghost entered a human’s body, their consciousness reacted like white blood cells fighting an infection. The fight was instinctual and immediate, and it usually left little time for a ghost to direct the human’s actions before being expelled. But Cat wanted him in his body, so there was no resistance.

Everything was dark for a moment, but then Edwin felt himself slide under Cat’s skin. He opened his eyes and drew in a lungful of air. The sensation of breathing nearly overwhelmed him. He found himself alone in the flat, surrounded by makeshift furniture and dropcloths. He looked down at his hands, which were stronger and bigger than his slim academic’s hands. He touched his cheeks and found short fur that looked like stubble but felt like a cat’s. His vision was preternaturally sharp. As he looked into the shadows, his eyes shifted as his pupils dilated as night vision momentarily kicked in.

As Edwin got used to seeing through Cat’s eyes and breathing again, he started to become more aware of his body. As his weight shifted, he felt the leather skirt bounce against his thighs. The soft fur of the cropped jacket brushed his cheek as he turned his head. As he took a step forward, he became suddenly and acutely aware that he was commando underneath the skirt.

“Cat? Can you hear me?” said Edwin aloud. The feeling of a voice not his own vibrating in his chest was both intoxicating and disconcerting. “Wait, what happened to my accent? I sound exactly like you.”

Muscle memory, I guess. Probably a good thing. In case you run into anyone I know. They’d think I was pulling a Madonna if I suddenly sounded all posh.

Hearing Cat’s voice in his head reassured Edwin that something hadn’t gone horribly wrong. He sounded calm and amused. “You knew you were going to offer me this. The least you could have done is put on pants.”

Cat just chuckled.

Edwin clasped Cat’s hands into fists. It was his unconscious, tense habit that he’d had even when he was alive. But in ghostly form, he didn’t really feel it. He was not used to the sensation, nor the strength of his current hands. “So what shall I do now?” he asked the air.

Anything you want.

“That is entirely unhelpful,” said Edwin as he took an experimental step forward. He tried a few more steps to get used to the feeling of motion, as well as the soft breeze that flowed up under the skirt with each step.

Well. You could go see Charles.

Something about the sing-song note in Cat’s inner voice made Edwin suspicious. “What are you up to?”

There was no answer. He could tell that Cat’s consciousness had receded. He was no longer observing every little thing, but he could tell he was aware.

“Bollocks,” he muttered to himself in an American accent. Then Edwin headed for the door. There was no handy mirror traversal to get him back to the office quickly, and although he could feel Cat’s magic, he didn’t yet know how to access it. So he was left with walking. It was a decent walk - twenty minutes or so. It hadn’t seemed like much when he was considering it, but as he moved down the crowded London streets, he started to think he might have made a mistake.

People were looking at him. Not just because he was currently inhabiting a living body, but because of the outrageous way he was dressed. Edwin only got the full measure of it when he passed by a reflective office building and saw himself as the world saw him. The outfit should have been utterly ridiculous, but it somehow worked - although less so with him at the helm as he didn’t carry himself with the same swaggering confidence of the body’s rightful owner.

It wasn’t just the wild dress that drew peoples’ attention. If that had been the only feature of the way Edwin currently looked, he would have been greeted with sneers and obvious attempts to look away.

But Cat was, in Edwin’s estimation, exceptionally handsome. The eccentric clothing just drew peoples’ eyes to him and made them realize that fact. Men and women openly admired him, though some did immediately avert their eyes.

The eyes of the London crowds did go some way to keeping Edwin’s attention off the dozens of new sensations being embodied gave him. He could smell the fumes of the cars as they passed. He felt a breeze rattle down the street and curl up around his ankles and under his skirt. When the breeze faded, he felt his forehead cooled from where it had tickled a thin sheen of sweat.

Now that he was moving, Edwin found the faux fur coat much too warm. He walked about a block with sweat trickling down his back before he was forced to remove it. That left him feeling very exposed, as the mesh shirt turned out to be partially open in the back and had short sleeves.

A pair of gay men walked. One did a little vogue-like spin on the spot, gave him a once-over over the top of heart-shaped sunglasses, then snapped at him in appreciation.

Edwin just smiled awkwardly, nodded at them, and quickened his step.

Finally, Edwin made it back to the office. He was never so glad to be off the street and away from people. He mounted the stairs and stepped forward. He stopped just short of colliding with the frosted glass of the Dead Boy Detective Agency door before he realized oh yes, he had a body. No phasing through things for the immediate future.

Fortunately, the door was unlocked. He entered, then promptly leaned against the closed door. He turned the lock and threw the fur coat on a nearby chair. Edwin buried his face in his hands, fingers trickling over his soft, fur-like hair. “I don’t think I can do this,” he murmured to himself.

“Uh, hey.”

That wasn’t Charles’ voice.

Edwin looked up to see Monty standing there.

“What are you doing here?” And then he remembered the last time they’d seen each other. “You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Edwin stepped forward.

Monty stepped backward and smiled nervously. “Edwin, it’s me.”

Edwin stopped and stared at Monty. “You know who I really am?”

“Yes. Um. Well, you see. I’m not Monty. It’s me. Charles.”

Edwin’s eyes widened. “Charles?” he said incredulously.

“This is fucking aces, isn’t it?” Then Monty-Charles looked to the side and chuckled. “Feels wrong to curse with this voice. And say aces. I’ll have to watch myself.” He clears his throat, and then said in a far more Monty-ish way, “Isn’t this great?”

The scheme, it seemed was much bigger than the Cat King offering him a temptation. Somehow, he’d roped Charles and Monty into it as well.

“Well,” said Edwin tightly. “This should be interesting.” Keep reading

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