#not to mention they hit u in the face w the cat in the wall shit in s15 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horanghoe · 2 years

Text

home comforts - (VICTON) Seungsik/Hanse/Reader smut

main masterlist

group/members: VICTON - Seungsik & Hanse

pairing: Reader (loosely fem perspective) x Seungsik x Hanse

genre: heavy smut, fluff, really rough pwp, wouldn’t be me without comfort themes heh, established background relationship with the entire group, implied 7VICTON f*ck buddies, implied idol life for the boys, implied/mentioned member x member, dacryphilia for the reader (crying due to pleasure = kink), dirty/praise talk, size kink & teasing and flirting between the two boys!

!! minors dni !! warnings below the line !!

word count: 3546

~ Quick A/N~ I know there aren't many VICTON stans / ALICE's in general but there seems to be even less over here on the writeblr kpop space ahahah!!!! but likes/comments/reblogs are still greatly appreciated and keep me motivated! And hey, u may not know the members, but it's a bit of a fun hehe ~ but truthfully, this was an indulgent drabble for the few VICTON fans that it reaches. I luv u, keep shining angels ~ ~ ON THAT NOTE ~ I wanted to forcefully tag @flowerboykun >:] due to being the reason I (1) discovered the group (2) fell in love w gender icon Hanse and (3) further became an alice <3 ily mimi

~ & a special thanks to my pals & beta readers ~ @gyukult - @slightlymore - @raibebe - @kthpurplesyou - @sanjoongie MY BELOVED <33 - and my fav alice hehe @atiny-piratequeen

Music to listen to while reading ♡ (in no particular order)

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - (Cigarettes After Sex)

BTBT - B.I & Soulja Boy ft. DeVita

Say It - Flume, Tove Lo

Sweet - Brockhampton

Late Night Talking - Harry Styles

Blow - Jackson Wang

Heart Burn - SUNMI

Fever - ENHYPEN

my type - brb.

Freaky Deaky - Tyga, Doja Cat

Slow Motion - AMARIA BB

Best Lover - 88rising, BIBI

T/W’s : Heavy three-way smut. Stuff happens between the boys (member x member x reader) but is not intense. Power dynamics are for you the reader to decide. Light restriction. Voyeurism. Dirty/praise talk, size kink. If you squint there’s a praise kink in there (definitely not a self-insert lkasdjmfdks). Dacryphilia. Reader doesn’t orgasm per say, but hits peak arousal from penetration >;) All safe and consented ~ just happy filth <3 Enjoy

(Pls dm me if you would like a trigger warning added ♡ )

Seungsik’s large hands pressed heavily at the curve of your hips, pushing you to lay even further flat onto the counter with your hands underneath you. Your palms spread wide against the counter's cool surface, face contorted into pleasure.

Each outward drag and push inwards against your tight walls caused you to whine, quickly falling apart despite your best intentions.

“Breathe, babe.” Seungsik laughed sweetly, slowing to rock against you. “You’re so tight.”

You heaved a breath, releasing a breath as your body relaxed its grip on him slowly and with every shallow jut into your guts. Your thighs jumped at a sudden shallow thrust, Seungsik snickering behind you. His hand kneaded at your ass before leaning ever so slightly over your smaller frame to mumble against your cheek.

“Gotta stay quiet if you don’t want Hannie to notice, baby.”

“I know, dammit!! ” You cried out breathlessly. Dropping your torso and forehead to the counter with a choked sob.

Seungsik chuckled behind you, hands back in position as he set a slow, heavy pace fucking directly into you as he pressed your stomach firmly into the counter. With his tall frame, his hips stayed at fuck-height to the counter, and the downward pressure of his arms caused the soft of your belly to press his dick tighter into you; lewd sloppy sounds unmistakable as you felt him in the pit of your stomach, your mind forcing you to imagine his length pushing up against your lungs.

“Seungie, fuck - ah- so deep - fuck, ngh -”

“Shhh, baby, you’re so loud, fuck.” He shushed your high pitched whines through an airy laugh. But the longer his steady pace lasted - pulling out and dragging back in at a far-too-lazy speed - the more broken and drawn out your moans became.

“Seungie - please - faster -” The pitch of your voice hit an all-new high, making Seungsik grunt softly, pressing your hips to keep them steady as you twitched in greed.

It was up until this point that Hanse had been minding his extremely peaceful and otherwise private, business.

The open space in the centre of the dorm left a lot of people’s doings out in the open; privacy being a precious and rare currency around here.

The kitchen was reasonably large with a kitchen island in the centre that separated the smooth tiles from the carpeted open room of a lounge.

In which, Hanse had been resting. With his head and spirit buried deep into lyric forming and rap-making. Tapping out beats from his head with a pencil onto his notebook. Humming to himself as he listened to a multitude of songs, writing then re-writing lines until he was content.

In the brief moment where his mind wandered to the area around him and his music waned between albums - your patterned gasps drifted into Hanse’s cognizance and he had to will every cell in his body not to spin around immediately.

Attempting to calmly assess the situation, he made a choice not to change his position - if you truly were … doing something behind him, then he didn’t want to spook you. And mostly, he was intrigued.

Truthfully, the 8 of you fucked like rabbits.

And so he wasn’t unused to those beautiful, song-worthy notes, just a little surprised and disturbed to hear you doing shit in the kitchen of all places. And, right behind him…

With slow hands and delicate movements, Hanse moved very slightly to pull his sound-cancelling headphones away and onto his cheek.

But they didn’t stay there for very long.

Hanse’s eyes drifted to the table in front of him.

The water in his glass was wobbling.

With a scrunched nose - somewhere between humour, disgust and annoyance - Hanse removed his earphones completely, moving to turn the 90-degree spinning chair just to the edge, facing the two of you.

With Seungsik’s head thrown back and his soft grunts muffled by his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, you were the first to notice Hanse’s puzzled expression and stiff defensive posture.

In a sentence: he was riled up. Hard as wood and huffy as hell.

But you knew it wouldn’t last; moaning openly now that you had been found out, biting against your fingers with his name forming on your lips before you could help yourself.

He shifted in his seat, arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted as he watched you. But his expression was gentle. He could never be truly angry with you. Especially when you whimpered so beautifully for him. Your eyebrows pinching with each thrust, voice flowing in high-lilted tight gasps, torso rocking gently and your fingers reaching out ever so slightly towards him.

“You’re so fucking loud, babe - I swear, you truly want us to get caught - maybe you enjoy being used like a fuck-toy, sure seems like it right now…” Seungsik groaned as his eyes shut, gripping one ass cheek in each hand as he switched up his pace, head down with a concentration that wiped Hanse from existence.

Hanse may not be able to stay pissed at you, but he sure as hell had the capability to become insatiably annoyed at the large-horny-puppy-male behind you, ploughing into you like no tomorrow.

“Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me. Kang Seung-sik. You’re insufferable. Seungwoo is going to beat your ass if he catches you.”

Seungsiks heart jumped up and into his throat, hips jutting a yelp out of you before blinking at his younger flatmate with a quickly forming grin and snicker.

“Hello to you too, Hanse Do.”

If Hanse had hackles, they would be raised.

“In the fucking kitchen - of all places, Sik?”

Seungsik simply snickered, securing the curve of your spine again with one hand before looking back up with his tongue against the corner of his mouth and head thrown back.

“Like you didn’t do anal on the sofa last week?”

He didn’t miss the wobble of Hanse’s adam’s apple or the twitch in his leg.

Seungsik reached to delicately comb some hairs from your neck to leave a kiss, before returning as he was before.

Hanse wanted to kiss - punch - that smirk straight off his elders' face.

“We eat on there! You fuck!” Hanse cried, smothering his face in frustration.

You moaned softly in thanks to the scattered kisses placed on your shoulder blades and curled your arms into yourself. Washed from head to toe in buzzing warmth. Hanse’s eyes met you with a softened brow before Seungsik’s voice pulled him back.

“If you can eat out Chan’s ass on that leather sofa, I am fully within my rights to fuck our pretty angel on the kitchen island. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, babe.”

Hanse gripped the armchair with a disgruntled noise. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his aura like a cat ready to pounce. But in true Hanse nature; he laboured a calming breath that lasted four strokes, choosing to glare up at the male with fury behind his eyes, instead of enacting physical violence. Though, it was considered.

“Just - hurry up and finish off before they get back from rehearsals. I’m not explaining to Sejun why your cum is all over a random communal countertop, again, Seun.”

“Again?” Seungsik scoffed, biting his gums as his hips twitched, slowing his pace to resist cumming too quickly. “You literally refused to swallow.”

Hanse sucked at his teeth in a sharp noise of annoyance. Shuffling to kick his feet up onto the table in front of him. Breathing away his irritation and combing through the long neck-length hairs of his black mullet.

“Woo will beat you into next week if he catches you.” Hanse’s sly cat eyes met Seungsik’s, a spark of competition forming as the elder squinted over at him.

“You’d love to see it.”

Hanse chose not to respond.

The silence instead was permeated by your sniffles, forehead against the counter and whimpers accompanying the friction of your bare chest on the countertop. Skin slapping against skin and the smell of sex saturating the air.

“Seunie -” You whimpered, fucked dumb and breathless. “It hurts so good…”

Seungsik slowed to shush you, sliding his hand over the back of your palm on the counter to interlock his fingers between yours. His large palm hid your hand and his chest stayed at your back for a moment, letting you catch a break to kiss at the nape of your neck and bite at your ear. Your heart fluttered deep in your core as he leaned back, hissing at the newly presumed pace.

“Easy, angel. Not yet. Let Han catch up, hmm? He’s aching to join in, look at him.”

Hanse’s jaw ticked at your soft sighs, and how attentive he knew Seungsik to be in an intimate setting. He was proving to annoy Hanse through second-hand kindness; pulling up to stare at the younger male, moaning airily through open lips.

And as Hanse considered the shame of what he so desperately wanted to do next; his older band member provoked him further.

“How long have you even been watching, Do? Such a perv.” Hanse’s sharp eyes remained unmoved, his face entirely clear of amusement.

Seungsik released a slight chuckle before a teasing statement that made the younger male moan shyly out loud. You smiled against the cold counter, squeezing enough for Seungsik to swipe very weakly at your backside.

“You love catching us just as much as our precious angel here loves being caught." His smugness showed even between laboured breaths, his grin as evident as the sweat in his hairline from the effort not to plough you into oblivion.

“Could’ve - said something, Han. Instead of watching like a damn pervert.”

Hanse was surely made of spiritual bricks and mortar.

Choosing to remain stubborn and resist the elders' teasing, even if his cock throbbed painfully.

He only wavered at your fucked out expression; Seungsik’s grip on your scalp making you cry out dumbly, letting him pull you up for Hanse to see, and knowing you loved the way it burned.

“Wanna leave a review, Han? Seems like you’re enjoying the show.” At this point, your legs were shaking from an elongated build-up - not even searching for an orgasm, but being driven to tears via the quick snaps of his newly inspired hips into your soaked entrance and throbbing core.

Even despite the new speed, you tried your best to bite at your gums and swollen lips, sighing as the boys bickered above you. They fucked. And you had all openly experimented with your dacryphilia kink as couples. So your sniffles were radio buzzing to the bickering between the boys.

“Do one, asshat. I’m purely loathing over all the shit I’ll have to disinfect when you’re done fucking Y/N with no rubber in the middle of the kitchen island, is all.”

Seungsik dropped your head as soon as the first tear fell; allowing you to fall over the edge under two sets of eyes.

Hanse almost creamed his pants as your beauty was painted by sin, just for him to spectate; your tear dropped onto the counter in one solid drip, which proved enough for his brain to fuzz over momentarily and cock to throb even harder in his sweats.

“You sure? Pretty sure you’re just mad you’re not tall enough to rail someone on the counter without a kick-step. It’s giving -” Seungsik groaned softly, before huffing out the last of his teasing sentence, thrown off by your loud whine and shifting hips.

“- terribly pitiful short guy syndrome ~”

“You’re full of shit!” Hanse laughed immediately, momentarily breaking the tension. But he re-centred with a heavy gaze and finally moved to press his palms against his clothed cock with a groan.

“I’m literally less than an inch shorter than you, asshole - I simply do not care for fucking anyone on our only sanitary eating surfaces.”

Enough was enough. Emitting a loud whine before pulling your neck up, face scrunched in pleasure as you fought to speak between Seungsik’s stupidly beautiful cock forcing the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

“Both - of you - please - shut - the fuck - up - or I’ll - squirt - in the sink - and make - you clean -” Seungsik’s thrusts came quicker and pushed harder against your smaller and securely held frame as you spoke as if to break you on purpose.

“ - fuck - Seun, ahh - Hanse, please - join in - ahh, please, fuck -” Your hands now pushed your body up on shaky supports, causing him to push on the soft area inside of your core that made you tingle from head to toe.

Hanse didn’t take your words to heart - but he did watch as your tears dipped to your collarbone, dripping off your breasts onto the elder boy's veiny hands.

“You’re going to make her cry all through aftercare again.” Hanse commented in a bland tone, poker face immaculately covering the tugging of his jogger strings, making the scene seem like more of a chore than anything.

“Pretty baby loves it though, don't you sweetheart?” Seungsik’s chest pressed against your back as his hands held you; thrusts less in length but he fucked up into you without remorse. You cried out, lips wobbling as you bit to keep them closed, your comfort placed in the scattered feather-light kisses on your shoulder. “Love to be fucked into such a mess hmm? Pretty angel, so beautiful when she cries ~”

Seungsik’s voice was floating around your head, his hot palms manhandling you into safety with a gentle giant of a man in charge of your pleasure. He barked loud and frequently; but didn’t have the heart to ever bite.

“You’re not the one who has to deal with the aftermath of blowing her back out, dickhead. Better make her cum or I’m stealing all of your shit out of the fridge for the next week straight.”

Your eyes slipped open at Hanse’s temperate sighs, lost to the throws of pleasure as Seungsik buried his face into the crook of your neck, humming a confirming sound and setting to work.

The sight in front of you was one the God’s wished to write home about.

Hanse was the epitome of a soft, dark male with a heart full of gold. And he was beautiful in every sense. His femininity caught everyone's eyes; even your own, as his painted black nails, pumped his cock with his head thrown back and joggers barely tugged down.

“Feel good, angel?” He grunted softly, tongue poking to play with his piercing, lip bite quickly followed. At first, you simply nodded, before you called out wantonly, his name slipping from your lips.

“Good, Hannie -” You managed in a pathetic attempt of a response. Hanse smiled at you lovingly, maintaining eye contact until you crumbled forward like a goddess made out of soft chalk; mind through the roof and pleasure consuming you whole.

“Pretty when you cry, baby.” Hanse mumbled gently, fist unconsciously wrapping tighter as his head tipped back, soft puttering groans finally hitting deep and lengthier in tone.

“Not as pretty as when you beg to cum, Do. Shit’s insane.” He snickered, palm smoothing over your flat spine, before starting that thick sickening pumping inside of your core that made your toes curl.

Hanse was pissed. Again. Silence speaking louder than words; but not louder than the wet sounds connecting you and Seungsik or his own fist pumping him until his chest flushed with heat, a hand straying to feel his chest over his shirt.

Seungsik shook his soft blonde hair out of his face, chuckling to himself.

“Which baby will cum first, I wonder?” He wondered out loud. “How long can you go before you explode?” Statements followed by Seungsik chiming innocent laughter. "One's already crying, but the other's not far behind."

But the innocence was fake with a capital F; a competition now struck up between him and Hanse, even if nothing needed to be said.

It didn’t take long for you to pull up from the counter, crying through heaved breaths. Seungsik used you as a viewing model, but you loved it. Hanse’s eyes stuck to your bodies and the way they connected as he winked at your bleary, tear-flooded cheeks.

Seungsik’s hips grounded up in deep but very slight thrusts as he held you to his chest via one hand squeezing your breast. The other held your hip against the counter not to fall; the burn of the counter merely collateral damage to getting your back blown the fuck out.

With a small outcry and a folding neck, you came hard, sobbing through breaths as Seungsik grunted, using every ounce of his soul to cum only after you had hit hypersensitivity.

Hanse watched on with loud breathy grunts and a gripped fist, already knowing how hard you would fall by the tears on your chest, mind blown wide with erotic, sinful satisfaction that made your muscles buzz like static.

Once you began to twitch, hips moving involuntarily and sharp whines of shock pressing through your sniffles; Seungsik buried his face into your shoulder to cum hard.

It was overdue and followed in tandem by Hanse who did his best to contain it with the other palm in the throws of passion. It was only a matter of time before you crawled to him for comfort; Hanse being your comforter in the emotional sense. Whereas Seungsik knew all the right ways to make you cry in the first place.

“Mmm - enough, Seunnie… practice… clean…”

It was funny how quickly your body sagged with fatigue; back literally and figuratively blown and head completely fuzzed over. Seungsik kissed your cheek gently, lowering your feet to the floor as he slipped out; your moan unmissable as his slick slipped down your thigh.

A nearby tug of kitchen roll was not so beautifully dabbed at your core, the fabric swiped at your thighs until his cum was nowhere to be seen, the action full of love. Seungsik cleaned quickly as he tapped at his phone - swearing under his breath, as under the very late evening time read multiple texts from the boys saying they were heading back from the studio and if you three wanted food.

“Yeah, go sit with Hannie baby, I’ll clean up -”

“And for fucks sake please use the bleach,” Hanse grunted from the couch, shaking the haze from his eyes to quickly clean up.

Thankfully, having somewhat of a clean-freak-maknae (at least, in the standards of 7 men living together, so not really), meant disinfectant wipes were always nearby and a lined bin in every room. Not that they got emptied, but that was beyond the point.

“I don’t care if it smells like the aftermath of a crime scene lab, I will literally never eat in here again if you don’t fucking disinfect everything.” Hanse punctuated his statement by chucking the wipes into the nearby metal bin, enough to make it spin and clatter back into its space, his joggers tugged up and his shirt smoothed down his chest.

Seungsik mocked Hanse childishly before he placed a kiss on your cheek. His hands guided you out of the way of the island until you were ‘stable’ enough to push forward and reach Hanse’s outstretched hands. “Go on baby, you were perfect, as usual.” He whispered, kissing your ear as you left, palms sliding away from your skin.

But Hanse was right there to catch you; cooler, calloused palms and cool metal rings sliding over the skin of your ribs, thumbs briefly padding over your nipples, and a breath catching in his throat; before your body was accepted into his bubble on the large armchair, Hanse using his larger frame to keep you from falling. His breath brushed over your cheek - as much as you wanted to make out right now, you were overridden by tingling fatigue - face buried into the fabric on his shoulder.

“Legs, angel.” He mumbled against your hair dotingly, tapping at the legs you seemed to have left behind, half sitting and standing. “Can’t leave those behind. Come here ~”

You giggled a shy “Oh…”, before allowing Hanse to grip your thighs and place you over his legs rather than his crotch. Your ass dipped between his thighs, forehead bumping his chin and both knees tucked up against his opposite shoulder.

He was just so soft. Comfy. Safe.

Hanse's breathing was always deep and pressed into his belly, and your palm pressed against his belly unknowingly to feel his comforting breath, slipping into sleep unreasonably fast. Your lips puffed open as Hanse nuzzled his cheek against your forehead, humming gently. You responded through your sleep, knees pulling tighter towards you until he released the chair spring, allowing you to practically lay on him in a curled position.

He also quickly fell into a light slumber.

Awoken only when the boys entered from practice, stretching sleepily under questioning eyes at your naked and very-much-passed-out-snoring form, and the intense questioning for the intense bleach smell, ‘with no open windows’, loving the panic in Seungsik’s face as he squeezed you closer, reaching for his headphones to slide them over your head.

Hanse watched the boys as they bickered until your lips pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Sliding your fingers between his, falling asleep with a hand pressed to each other’s heart.

Well would you look at that: updated 10/August/2022

191 notes · View notes

milliumizoomi · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏

➣ SUMMARY. ; Shutting up TR boys with a kiss

➣ FEATURED. ; Mitsuya, Baji, Chifuyu & Draken w/ GN! Reader

➣ FORMAT. ; Headcanons

➣ GENRE. ; Fluff + Slight Crack

➣ WARNINGS. ; Cursing and Rambling

➣ NOTES. ; This request was soooo cute thank you for requesting my love,, hope you enjoy it <33!!

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

⌕ MITSUYA

✗ he would literally be so shocked but try to hide it

✗ and would lowkey want another one but would say nun about it

✗ he was rambling about a last minute project for his home ec club

✗ poor boy was frustrated as hell since the teachers were telling him about it 3 days before it had to be submitted

✗ he was just babbling while running around the home ec room while you sat in the corner

✗ “Babe..?” You called out.

✗ he didn’t even hear you

✗ he was just running around the room like a mad person trying to find supplies

✗ “Takashi?”

✗ still nothing

✗ you got up and walked over to him

✗ “helloooo?? Earth to boyfriend can you even hear me?”

✗ he flinched at you, finally beginning to hear you

✗ “o-oh were you calling me babe? I’m sorry it’s just that I was looking for the stuff for the project and I don’t want it to be late so I’m rushing and I—“

✗ you just leaned in a kissed him

✗ man had to take a few blinks before he could even begin to understand what was going on

✗ he kissed back ofc🙄

✗ after you pulled back you hit him lightly

✗ “you can shut up now you know and also,, don’t overwork yourself you look like a cat going after a laser pointer the way you was scrambling around this room”

✗ “yeah.. sorry about that” he laughed nervously

✗ “you all good, NOW! Let’s work on this together cause god knows you need some help with this”

✗ he nodded and smiled

✗ so you might have jabbed yourself with a needle a couple times but y’all did what needed to be done

⌕ BAJI

✗ his loud ass

✗ man stay shouting abt something

✗ he was loud as hell bout his homework assignment that he procrastinated doing

✗ and now u gotta be the one to hear bout it

✗ NOT TO MENTION THE TOMAN MEETING HE HAD TO REPORT ON

✗ man was just all over the place

✗ “I don’t even know what to do with all this shit! I’M NOT DOING ALL OF THIS IT’S DUMB”

✗ you just sighed and rolled your eyes

✗ he’s been yelling like this for the past 15 minutes and it was starting to drive you up the wall

✗ “and then I got the fucking toman meeting to- MMPFT!”

✗ you had kissed him cause you couldn’t take it anymore

✗ when you pulled away he was just standing there like 🧍

✗ “what was that for?”

✗ “you wouldn’t shut up what else was I suppose to do?”

✗ the man just smirked

✗ “I should talk more often if that’s how you’re gonna shut me up”

⌕ CHIFUYU

✗ ugh my precious

✗ WHY

✗ why would you do this knowing DAMN well the man would simply factory restart

✗ you could’ve just patted him or shook him to get his attention

✗ BUT naw you gon violate him like this ☹️

✗ he was just stressing over peke j too

✗ the little cat sprained one of his paws and chifuyu was so worried

✗ “is he gonna be ok?”

✗ “yes ‘fuyu peke will be just fine”

✗ “but what if it’s broken, I don’t want him to— MM!”

✗ you kissed him and his eyes widened

✗ when you pulled away you could see the dark red spread across his face

✗ “ ‘fuyu look at peke j he’s ok see”

✗ still red faced, chifuyu turned his head to see the little cat in his bed sleeping

✗ “y-yeah ok, I just want to make sure he’s fine..”

✗ “he is ‘fuyu and if he isn’t we can take him to the vet ok?”

✗ “ok”

✗ “now come here you’ve been stressing too much”

✗ you grabbed him and he rested his head on your chest and you started scratching his undercut

✗ “relax ok”

✗ “okok”

✗ p.s. he was still blushing :(((

⌕ DRAKEN

✗ lord him😭

✗ it’s like the man is made of STONE

✗ there’ll be only a few times that he actually voice things

✗ although it’s very rare cause he doesn’t want to burden you with his problems

✗ but at this moment he couldn’t keep quiet because there’s been a gang tailing toman for a couple weeks and he stressed trying to figure out how to get rid of them

✗ “this shit is frustrating..” Draken sighed, running his hand down his face

✗ he was sitting on his bed with a notepad and a pencil in his wondering what to do about the other gang

✗ “Mikey’s frustrated I’m frustrated these bitches won’t get out of our damn business!”

✗ “Ken hold on you need to take a breather”

✗ he just kept ranting ideas and writing them down

✗ basically he was just in his own little stressful world

✗ “KEN!”

✗ no answer

✗ “we didn’t wanna start a petty fight but they’re in our business!”

✗ “DRAKEN?!”

✗ it’s like the man doesn’t even hear you

✗ “or maybe we could— MMP?!”

✗ you kissed him so hard the pencil flew out of his hand

✗ he looked at you with his eyebrows creased but he was kissing you back

✗ when you pulled away you stood up straight

✗ “are you calm now ken? Can you hear me?”

✗ he nodded, still a little out of it

✗ “why did you kiss me?”

✗ “because I was literally calling and yelling at you and you didn’t hear me”

✗ “oh.. my bad baby this is just stressing me out”

✗ you frowned at the irritated state he was in

✗ “then how about I help you yeah? You knowww,, I do have some good ideas sometimes” you smirked

✗ he just laughed at you and shook his head

✗ “come here” he said

✗ you grinned at him then jumped on his bed

✗ he raised his eyebrow at you while smiling

✗ “so, what’s the plan you got beautiful?”

TAGLIST: @develith @kej1me @unfazedrose @kiribis-confesion-page @darylthekidd @blackweebtrash @erensbbg @shamwizzy @kloudyisdepressed @namjoonswifeyy @cosmiclvsh @bakuhoes-bxtch @megurulvr @dukina @crushsoli @dat-black-bish323 @plutosexc @temsm @kloesklarity @aizawash0e @plxnetjeezy @sukunasbabymama @royalelusts @denkisbaby1 @beezebub @reelogy @myhoodacademia @xseogar @luv-calcifer @we-simp-here @neqtzs @chopp4hehe @mikasacumslut @ccxiia @micahgalore @forwardpair @sageth3w0rld @manjiroarchiviste @1-800-cherri @sir-haitani @lvlydray @crapimahuman @1bravehooman @sscarchiyo @yakifuyu (Open ! click here to be added!)

999 notes · View notes

eyeless-cunt · 4 years

Note

Ej being w a sexual shy reader

prompt 9 (?)

I mashed all of these prompts together into one— I thot they would fit 😳 (however it’s a lil different uwu)

also i listened to ego death by Mieke while writing this it goes with it WELL, so you should listen to it >:)) ON LOOP

🔪————————————————————————🌸

Summary: Y/N is alone and not fine with it. Ej is alone but fine with it. They mix. Ej remembers that his love is not immortal like him.

Word count: 3.3k

NSFW: u h. yes. It’s pretty mild tho and very VERY soft

Warnings: mild depression, grief, loss of a loved one, EXTREME FLUFFY NSFW, mentions of eating humans, mentions of reader death, slight angst, very fluffy, ej loves reader very much

Tag List: @jouchann

🌸————————————————🔪

Y/n was always shy. She grew up quiet, she lacked presence. She never raised her hand—nor her voice. She was talked over and trampled on. She grew up with loving yet quickly fading grandparents. They tried to give her attention but the life was draining out of them and quite frankly they wanted to spend their last years in the arms of their loving spouse. She didn’t mind, she figured she would rather spend all of her remaining time with her significant other as well. Although she had always figured that something like that was nowhere close to her in the near future. Or further future to be honest. She was too shy and small in character to make a lasting impact on anyone, after all.

Falling in love with an immortal demon wasn’t something shy girls did. Outgoing girls did that, spontaneous and loud and adventurous. Those were the type of girls to experience this. Confident and sure of themselves. Shy girls met someone in a library, in a coffee shop, maybe on a park bench. Not in the woods at four a.m. sobbing about their grandparents death.

It was cold and dark and wet. Her face was wet from tears and wet from rain, her fingertips and lips were red and freezing, ready to burst. She couldn’t go back inside. Not yet, not now. It had been a week since their death, her grandpa dying of simply old age, her grandmother fading one hour after digesting the news and coming to terms with it. Her heart was simply too broken. Instantaneous heart failure. They left her everything. The car, the house, the money, the cat— their belongings. She didn’t want any of it right now. She had no other family, no close friends. She was simply not the type to make a lasting impact on someone.

She didn’t want to go back to that house. She didn’t want to see their things laying around, now her things. They were all she had, how was she supposed to go on, being alone? She hated being alone and lonely and alone. If anything, the woods behind her house was almost comforting. The feeling of being watched, which usually would give someone chills and paranoia—helped. She wasn’t alone, she would walk into that house and her grandparents would wave hello at her, they would be holding hands from their separate but close recliners, watching whatever new show they found interesting at the moment.

Obviously, that wouldn’t happen. But she still thought it, hoped. Which was why she couldn’t go back inside. It would make it too real, they wouldn’t be there, she would be truly alone. As long as she didn’t go inside to see for herself, they might be still sitting inside, waiting for her. So she couldn’t go inside, or they wouldn’t be there anymore.

It was colder then before, even though the rain had stopped. The grass was starting to freeze, the sun had gone down more than two hours ago. She sat still against a tree trunk, holding her knees to her chest. She was tired, it was cold out here. She didn’t know if her fingers were still red or if they had turned blue. She didn’t have enough energy to check. Animals scurried around her, as if they knew she wouldn’t do them any harm. They knew she was incapable, so they ignored her and roamed around freely.

Her eyes were closing and opening, closing and opening, over and over and over again. Her head swayed, but she fought to stay up. Would her grandparents still be there if she fell asleep? She didn’t know, so she fought to stay awake. Her body won over her mind however, and soon her body slumped over as she hit the ground, her arms still curled into herself.

🔪Eyeless’s P.O.V🔪

I felt kinda bad. I mean, this girl was just sitting in my woods crying while it was raining. Watching her felt like an invasion of privacy...but then again she was in my woods. It was only fair that I watch her to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. How did she even get in? It seems that tall prick needs to up his game.

I was patient. I had lived a very long time, I had an endless amount of time to do whatever I wanted. I knew that waiting for someone or something meant nothing. However I did worry about her time. How long had it been? I figured pretty long when she slumped over onto the icy grass, sound asleep. Humans felt temperature, didn’t they? She would get hypothermia if this continued. I had already eaten. I wasn’t hungry. Being feral every once in a while really made you full as hell for a few weeks. The thought of more food grossed me out considering I had eaten so much. She was safe, for now. If she ever came in my woods again however, I wouldn’t be too sure.

So in a moment of rare kindness for something like me, I dropped down from my tree and crouched to get a good look at her. Was she a run-away? She looked young but...I sifted through her pockets. An old tattered wallet. She had a driver’s license, not that much else. Then again I didn’t really look, just wanted to find an ID of some sort. She was an adult. So homeless? No. She didn’t look it. So just having a mental breakdown? probably. I picked her up, and felt the cold in her skin. It didn’t affect me but it certainly made me worried-ish for her.

I didn’t know where to take her. Where did she live, where did she come from? I couldn’t just take her with me, could I? No, definitely not. She would scream and argue and thrash as soon as she saw me. Well, I guess I could just say I was a cosplayer. Of some...random obscure villian or something. If she didn’t believe it and thrashed and screamed then I would just kill her. Easy. Take her home, warm her up, take her back to her home, done and easy. I hadn’t done something this kind for someone I considered my food in a very long time.

I adjusted her in my arms, trying not to press on her her or hold her too tight. Trying to hold back strength was not something I had done in an even longer time, and I was not used to it. I’m not sure how long it took to get there, but halfway I noticed the blue of her lips. I took off my sweatshirt and pulled it on over her head, not bothering to stick her arms through. She would retain more heat that way anyways. I’m not sure if i’m warm or cold, so it was a gamble to hold her closer to my chest. I did so anyways and started to jog, wanting to get there before she died.

When we got there I immediately turned on the heat. My house had many functions I didn’t use, although it seemed they finally had a use. I closed all the windows and doors, and grabbed a few blankets the previous (now long dead—like over 100 years dead) home owners had owned and kept in a spare closet. I laid her on the couch, although I wondered if my bed would work better for retaining heat. I figured there was no difference and kept her there, laying blankets on her. She would probably need a warm bath, but I figured she wouldn’t want me to stick her in there for fear of her wet clothes. I didn’t see an issue with undressing her but I vaguely recalled a moment when I walked in on Jane showering. I didn’t see an issue, she hit me with every bottle in there.

I wasn’t sure of what else I could do for her, so I ended up sitting in front of her on the couch. It was a few hours before she woke up, but I was patient. I have time. I wondered if I would have to kill her or not. I wouldn’t want to eat her, so it would be a waste.

🔪Third person P.O.V🌸

She had a short dream. Grey skin, navy blue, hot tar leaking out of holes in the wall, screaming. A lot of fire and singing. Then she didn’t dream at all. When she woke up, she was surprisingly comfortable. Her back hurt a little, and was a little cold, her hands were a bit numb, and she was sleeping on a soft yet bumpy surface. She liked being wrapped in these blankets, but she couldn’t seem to free her hands. They were trapped in something and she was far too weak to move them very much. He was surprisingly amused. She didn’t seem to know what was restricting her arms, and she didn’t seem all too panicked.

He thought her look of frustration was funny. They made eye contact. Kinda. They talked, although they don’t really remember what about. It took a long time, they weren’t sure how long, but eventually they entered a mutual relationship. Falling in love with immortal demons wasn’t something shy girls did.

Yet here she was. Her head in the lap of an immortal demon who she was in fact in love with. She never did end up going into that house, she tried. She tried and tried but the thought of her grandparents not being there when she walked in always stopped her. She always somehow found her way back to Jack’s house. Over and over and over and over again. Somehow she found her way into his lap. He absentmindedly played with her hair, not sure of what was happening on the Tv. He only installed it because she was always bored when he was gone. He didn’t mind the noise, as long as it wasn’t too loud.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last gone ‘feral’. It seemed crude to call it that, but technically that’s what he did. He planned on never getting into that state as long as Y/N was alive. Or at least around him. He hadn’t eaten in a week. He grimaced, knowing his last helping shouldn’t even of lasted him this long. He needed to go. He needed to hunt. But she seemed so content in his lap, and he knew he wouldn’t turn for at least another week if this continued. He had time. He could let her stay like this. She yawned, and looked up at him, smiling sweetly. He was sure he could feel his chest warm up his entire body.

She sat up and turned to lift up his mask, pecking him lightly on the cheek and giving another sweet smile. He never thought of humans as sweet creatures. But the woman in his lap was very sweet. Sweeter than any human he’d ever killed and tasted. Sweeter than the sugar water BEN had forced down his throat once. She was soft and quiet, until she opened her mouth. She had a lot to say then. He had time. He could listen. He could be patient. He would always be patient with her.

He wasn’t so sure how patient he’d be if he went feral. But swiped that thought out of his head. He wouldn’t go feral. He would hunt tomorrow—that’s what he decided. Sure she’d be by herself for a day or two but she knew the drill. He’d feel a bit bad as she clung to him, hopping he wouldn’t leave. A little guilty as he walked away from her as she held back tears. But she knew the drill.

He sometimes forgot that she didn’t have as much time as him. Forgot that one day she would leave this world and her human body would rot and decay into nothingness. She wouldn’t be sweet anymore. She’d be bones that he’d bury under a tree or some shit. He would pass her grave in a thousand years and he might not remember her voice by then. That thought sent him spiraling.

She would die. She was human. One day her life would end. The thought of him forgetting her voice, the way her kisses taste so sweet, the feel of her hands in his hair as a tv he didn’t give two fucks about droned on in the background. He didn’t want to forget. He never wanted to forget how warm her body was, the only temperature he’d ever actually felt. The only thing he’d ever actually love.

He didn’t want to leave her anymore. He hated leaving her. He’s never loathed anything more than being apart from her and knowing that while he was away, she was aging. She would grow old. Her bones would become brittle, and her eyesight would leave her. He would lose her and have to bury her in the ground. Cover her in dirt while bugs chewed at her corpse.

But he had to go. Or he would lose her even earlier, to himself. That would be unbearable. He would never be able to live thousands of more years peacefully if that happened. He might get over it, after how long. That made him hate himself. He looked down at her, her eyes trained to the Tv ahead of them. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and when he pulled back she pushed foreward and caught him by the mouth. He couldn’t help but think about how sweet she was.

She pushed him back even farther, and he let her. Her hands pulled him closer, as close as he could get. She would never get enough of him, of how soft he was. His skin was soft, and so was his mouth. She was sure he’d never picked at the skin there like she had. A bad habit that made her lips bleed and harden. It made her self conscious, but Jack never seemed to mind. She was glad. She wasn’t expecting him to pull away and pull off his shirt. Sure, they’d gotten showers together and all that, but that wasn’t an action with sexual intent behind it. They’d never gotten that far. She assumed he never wanted it, or that she wasn’t desirable. Or maybe demon-like creatures like him just weren’t into things like that.

Him pulling her into his lap seemed to tell her otherwise. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Her mind was a mess. Were they about to have sex? Did he want it? Did she want it? Of couse she did. But did he? Her hands shook, so she gripped his arms, a bit embarrassingly. He probably noticed. He kissed her forehead, sweetly.

“Do you want to?”

She practically gulped. She was incredibly nervous, and her anxiety kept reaching new heights. She’d never even kissed someone before Jack came into her life. She had never been close enough to a person before. This went from 0-100 in minutes. She nodded anyways, but he didn’t seem to believe her.

“Are you sure? You look pale. We don’t have to. We can just go back to cuddling and watching Tv. Okay?”

“No, i’m just nervous. I’ve never done any of this.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think I have either.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t remember much of my human life. I might’ve, but who knows?”

That made her laugh a little, even though it was a bit sad. She felt better, but was still nervous. What if He didn’t like her body, or he was grossed out by it? When was even the last time she shaved literally anything on her body? Probably at least a week or two. She was sure he’d find that disgusting.

“We really don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. But I also haven’t shaved it a while.”

He wanted to laugh at that. That was her reason? He thought it was silly, but if it was serious for her then he’d try to take it seriously too.

“I don’t care about things like that.”

“I haven’t gotten a shower.”

“I don’t care about that either, but if getting a shower and whatever else would make you feel more comfortable then you can do that, obviously. But I really, really, don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. It seems a bit shallow to really care about something like that. And I honestly find you beautiful no matter what form to appear in. I would still love you just the same if you were covered in dog shit. I wouldn’t fuck you until you got a bath...but I would still love you.”

He felt like she needed just the right amount of love and validation from him to feel more confident, and he hoped he was making her feel better.

“I love you.”

He smiled at her and replied back with, “I love you too.”

He decided not to add ‘more’ or they would get into a full verbal war over who loved and missed who more. It was endearing to watch her fight over it so seriously, but tiring when it went on for more than thirty minutes.

He kissed her forehead again, waiting for her to make the next move. He wouldn’t do anything if she didn’t want him to something. He tried to be gentle and caring with her at all times, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Even if it was the opposite of his nature.

She moved a bit cautiously, and he thought it was cute. Her mouth caught his, and he let her lead. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing anyways, so he figured he might as well go with it. She never sped up, so he didn’t either. She pulled off her clothes slowly, and still a bit nervously. He asked her again if she was sure. And she said yes, and kissed him harder.

He waited till she seemed more comfortable, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. The couch looked uncomfortable to her, and he didn’t want that to be a factor in her nervousness. She felt so soft, and he briefly wondered what he did to deserve this. This sweetness.

She held him closer to her, wrapping her legs against his waist. She had the quick thought that even his waist was perfect, and that that wasn’t really fair. His grey skin somehow made him even prettier, and she continued to think that through the whole night. He was gentle with her, even at the cost of his own pleasure. To him, it was worth everything and more to see her writhe under him, gripping onto him like there was no tomorrow. Her nails dug into his back, and she apologized profusely afterwards, even though he absolutely loved it.

He wanted to watch her move like that everyday for the rest of his never ending life. He only focused on her, and the faces she made. She would try to hide her face in his shoulder, or with a hand, but he always pulled it away so he could see. He kissed her everywhere, touched her everywhere, and she returned the favor, even though they really both had no idea what they were doing at first. It was endearing to watch her do her best for him, and Jack thought he’d never need anything else if only he could have her forever.

One day, she would turn to ash. But until then they would spend every moment they had together loving each other beyond comparison. He would spend his every waking moment living for her, until she would live no more.

#was it sad enough #hehe 👉👈#🌸#creepypasta #eyeless jack #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fic #fic #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack fanfic #eyeless jack fic #slight angst #slight pp warning #fluff #creepypasta fluff

231 notes · View notes

i-just-love-spop · 4 years

Text

I’m here

Some nights were alright.

Some nights were bad.

And some nights were terrible.

Bow was there to remind Glimmer that she wasn’t alone during all of them.

Glimbow-centric. Catradora is hinted at, but is completely off-screen for this one.

Glimmer is very heavily implied to also be traumatized in “Save the Cat”, and while it’s definitely different from Catra’s trauma, I imagine it’s pretty bad as well, so instead of writing the seven other concepts that are flying around in my notes, I decided to write this one because it jumped at me randomly way too early in the morning.

I know that there are technically no “nights” in space, but they still have some sort of day-night-rhythm, and night in this case just refers to the time they are all sleeping – or should be, at least.

Takes place in between “Taking Control” and “Perils of Peekablue”. This assumes that traveling from Etheria to Prime’s flagship and back took them at least three weeks each, because of their old ship, their limited knowledge of the technology and the lack of any ability to teleport or create portals. I have no idea if that’s accurate, but then again, nobody really knows how much time passes during the show.

TW: PTSD-induced panic attacks.

Glimmer‘s body tensed up in Bow‘s arms while she slept, just like it had happened the nights before, ever since Catra had teleported her off of Prime‘s ship.

He was still awake, hugging her gently to remind her he was there, and always on the lookout for signs of another panic attack like the one he had witnessed about two weeks earlier.

He rubbed her back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I will never let him hurt you again, I promise.”

For the first few nights after she’d been freed from Prime’s ship, she’d suffered through her terrors alone – not wanting to reach out to Bow too early, because he was allowed to stay mad at her for a while. Because she didn’t want to overstrain his good will after everything they’d went through, or to burden him or Adora with her silly nightmares considering everything else that was going on. What kind of terrible friend would she be if she’d do that?

Well, that facade had been smashed and crumbled completely about two days before they’d arrived at Prime’s ship.

She’d promised Adora she would help her rescue Catra – stars, there was a part of her that had started to like Catra when they had both been prisoners, and she had saved her, after all –, but the closer they got to Prime’s flagship, the worse her nightmares got.

This had eventually culminated in a full-blown panic attack, and after half a night of sobbing and thrashing around in her own bed, she’d gotten up, and had told Bow, still crying and entire body trembling, that she understood that he was still mad at her, and that it was okay, and if he needed more time, but-

By then he’d already gotten out of bed, put his arms around her and told her that of course she could stay.

No matter how mad he was at her... seeing her so upset and scared shattered his heart to pieces.

He’d never seen her like this before – not even after her mother died. And it terrified him.

He couldn’t take it.

Glimmer had slept in his bed every night after that.

Some nights were alright.

She’d flaked out and had been fast asleep until morning after long days of planning the rescue mission – planning itself hadn’t been easy for her, either. He had seen the way her body tensed whenever Horde Prime or the flagship were mentioned – he still saw it, now that they were on their way back home, whenever they talked about what had happened –, and he had eventually decided that comforting her by holding her hand, despite still being mad at her, was alright for him.

Not that staying mad at her was easy. She’d made mistakes, there was no denying that... but he knew her well enough to know that her apology was sincere, and that even if he were to never forgiven her, this would still be the first and last time she’d made a mistake like this.

Also, staying mad at anyone – especially at Glimmer –, had never been his strong suit. She was his best friend after all... and, at the same time, so much more than that. They’d been inseparable ever since they were little, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her – and even if he could have, he didn’t want to.

He hated fighting with her. He hated being mad at her.

He... he could have lost her. She could have been gone by now. The thought terrified him in a way that nothing had ever terrified him before. It made him sick to the stomach.

He hugged her tighter.

...Adora was to Catra what Glimmer was to him, wasn’t she? Just that she had needed her even more desperately, because they’d grown up in such a toxic environment. He hadn’t always been able to be honest with his dads, and Glimmer’s mother had driven her insane sometimes... but neither of their parents would have ever thought of hurting them, especially not on purpose.

That didn’t make everything Catra had done alright, of course. It was far from that.

But he was starting to understand her better – he could definitely see how everything that had happened could drive someone in her situation over the edge.

Catra actually seemed to be a decent person when she wasn’t trying to kill them, so he was willing to give her another chance as long as she kept on working on herself and didn’t hurt his friends again.

He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts as Glimmer stirred in his arms again.

Most nights weren’t good. More were since they’d started traveling back home, away from Horde Prime... but there were still a lot of nights that Glimmer thrashed around in her sleep, that she woke up screaming and crying and unable to catch her breath.

Some nights were bad.

And some nights were terrible.

Glimmer woke up in cold sweat. She felt dizzy, her heart was beating out of her chest, and she felt almost nauseous. For a moment, all she could see was green eyes in the pitch black room. She screamed and backed away until her back hit the wall.

“Glimmer... Glimmer, it’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.”

The voice was soothing and weirdly familiar. And then, all of a sudden, the green eyes disappeared, and she jolted up, back into reality.

She was... she was on the ship. She’d been on the First One’s ship for weeks. She was... she was... scared and confused, and threw her arms around her best friend like there was no tomorrow.

She needed this. More than she would like to admit.

She was completely freaked out and was positive she’d forgotten how to breathe, and it was getting worse and worse and worse and-

“Glimmer, it’s okay.” He stroked her head. “You’re here. With me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Bow...” She sobbed into his chest. “I-I’m so cold...”

Seeing his best friend this hurt and afraid and broken caused physical pain. She’d been through so much lately. She didn’t deserve this.

For a while, they just sat there and he hugged her shivering body tight because that seemed to be the only thing that calmed her down, if only slightly.

"It will be okay. I promise. You can get through this. I know you can.”

“B-but-“

Her entire body was shaking.

She was so stuck in her terror that it made her completely unable to form words properly, even less sentences.

“No. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He let go of her and offered her his hands to hold. She took them with shaking hands.

“I-“

The words still didn’t come.

"Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present. Count to ten with me, alright? Like we practiced."

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes and squeezing his hands as they counted, her breaths slowly growing steadier. She was still panicking, still scared, but his voice was calm and soft and his hands in hers felt nice and warm and kept her in reality.

He was so patient with her. He was always so patient with her. She was pretty certain Bow was the most amazing person in the entire universe.

How she deserved someone like him in her life, especially after how badly she had messed up, was beyond her.

“I- I’m s-sorry I-I‘m so m-messed u-up,“ she sobbed.

She was still shaking, but she wasn’t quite as trapped in her head anymore.

He just held her and rubbed her back.

“You did good, okay? I’m so proud of you.” She buried her head in his chest. He went back to stroking her head gently. “And you’re not messed up. You’ve just been through a lot lately. I don’t think any of us will get out of this battle without scars. But that doesn’t make us broken.” He smiled at her. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve gotten through so much already. We’ll work through this, too.”

“W-we?”

She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around him tightly.

Touching him calmed her down. It always had.

Bow nodded.

“Of course. You’re my best friend, Glimmer. And you don’t have to do this alone, okay? I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breathing was steadier now, her hands not shivering as much when she lifted them to her face to wipe her tears away.

“Bow, I-“ She cut herself off mid-sentence. “Thank you. For being so patient with me, and calming me down and- still wanting to be my best friend, even after everything that happened. You’re amazing. You’re the best friend anyone could ever wish for.”

“Anytime.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you need anything else?” She shook her head. “Do... do you want to go back to sleep?”

“I... yeah. That... that might be good. Can... can I be the big spoon?“

Bow smiled.

“Always.” He hugged her one more time. “So... do I want to sleep with the lights on today?”

She smiled softly. He asked her this every time she woke up from a nightmare, ever since the first night she had slept on his bed here.

She’d freaked out when he’d turned the lights back off that night, and then told him through sobs that saying she wanted to leave them would make her feel like a little girl and that she hated that.

He’d retorted “Well, maybe I want to leave the lights on.”

And now he always asked if he wanted to leave them on because that made her feel less weird about it.

Stars, how was he this perfect...

“No... I... I think I’m okay now. Better at least. But... thank you.”

They laid back down and Bow pulled the blanked back over them as she took him into her arms.

Glimmer liked being the big spoon sometimes. She liked holding him, and she loved the way it made her feel strong and big when she was feeling so small and vulnerable.

Being the little spoon made her feel loved and protected, and she liked that just as much... but some nights it was easier if she had something to hold onto.

“And Bow?” She said after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and actually sleep this time, okay? You can’t exactly reprimand Adora for not sleeping enough if you stay up all night watching over me.”

Adora didn’t even need to be reprimanded as much anymore. Both of them were certain that they’d never seen her as happy and relaxed as she was since she had Catra back, and especially since Catra had made up with Entrapta.

Sure, she was still her usual ‘I need to save the galaxy all on my own’-level of stressed, but something had changed since Catra was on the ship.

This fact was extremely hard to miss – after all, even Entrapta had picked up on it, and she wasn’t exactly an expert on picking up social cues.

How had she put it again?

‘Adora’s smile rate goes up by at least twenty percent whenever Catra is in the room’, or something.

“I... can’t sleep when I’m not sure you’ll sleep through the night,” Bow admitted, interrupting her thoughts. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“That’s...” Her voice cracked. “That’s so sweet of you. I appreciate it, I really do... but you need to sleep.”

“Promise me you’ll wake me up if you need help again?”

She nodded.

“I promise.”

Bow was the first one to doze off this time. Glimmer didn’t mind. She was comfortable and warm and felt save now. He’d gotten really good at battling her fears with her these past few weeks.

She loved him for that, and for so many other things. She was so incredibly thankful to have him in her life.

His body felt so nice against hers. His hair smelled pretty good, too. And then she caught herself thinking about kissing him again, like she had so many times during these past few years.

I think I love you. I think I love you, love you.

She could at least admit that to herself now, and although the thought still terrified her – the same way it always had when it had crossed her mind over the years to abruptly be banished into the darkest depths of denial again –, it also made her smile, if only a little.

For the rest of the night, the two of them slept peacefully.

___

A/N: So, uuuhm... did anyone ask for angst? No?

...Well, have some anyway.

The idea just kind of popped into my head, and, well, we need more Glimbow content anyway.

This also adds some more meaning to Bow reaching for Glimmer’s hand while they are asleep in “Failsafe“, and it’s an additional reason why they could be cuddling in “Don’t go”. Just saying.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

Feedback is always appreciated, comments especially. I’m also happy about reblogs!

I will upload this on my Ao3 tomorrow.

...and I’m already writing a spin-off ficlet about Catradora and Glimbow goofing around the next morning because I have no self-control. Whoops.

Thank you for reading!

#glimbow #glimmer x bow #spop glow #Glimmer #Bow #Glimbow-centric #*casually drops angst into the tag*#we need more comtent for this ship #so I‘m writing more fics #hurt/comfort #my works #my writing #Entrapta and Catra and Adora are mentioned #But they‘re not actually on screen

104 notes · View notes

awkwardlittlepringle · 4 years

Text

Queer ‘n Crazy

CHAPTER 11

Hello, fellow Fanders!

This is chapter eleven of Queer 'n Crazy, as you can probably tell, and thank you so much if you are reading this!

About the tutorial I linked above, it's the first DIY I tried, and it turned out really well, surprisingly! I love the channel Oliver's Antics, and they made it really easy to follow through. You don't need anything special and it's super simple, so if you need something to kill time with during quarintine, try it!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

WARNINGS : Swearing, mentions of OCD, platonic cuddling, friendly teasing, panicking, self deprecation, I think that's it???

..............

Virgil opened his eyes blearily to glare at the loudspeaker mounted on their wall. Fantasy improptue by Chopin was blaring through the dorms, meaning it was 8 o'clock on Saturday morning. Virgil groaned as the familiar quicker notes started to reverberate around their room, and flopped back onto his bed.

Only his bed was... hard? Kind of? The part where his legs were was, at least, and his pillow was at a strange angle... Oh shit.

Virgil yelped, all sleepiness vanishing, and scrambled away from the slowly awakening teen next to him. His face burned as he was hit with the realisation that he'd cuddled with Logan? I- What is happening?

"Virgil?" Virgil felt like dying as he watched sense return to the ruffled teen. Logan blinked sleepily at Virgil, bringing a hand up to massage his neck. Virgil found himself subconciously reaching for his hoodie strings only to discover that -newsflash!- he wasn't wearing his hoodie. Logan's eyes widened as he took in Virgil position, an almost unnoticable blush on the tips of his ears.

"Virgil, are you okay?" "W-What? Me? I'm fine." said Virgil, his voice embarrisingly high pitched. Logan's eyebrows furrowed. "How come you are so distressed?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"'s nothing." he squawked. He shuffled out of the fort to see his hoodie lying abandoned on the floor. He slipped it on, the weight calming him a little. He could see Logan squinting at him adorably, before feeling around on the ground for his glasses.

Once he put them on, he shuddered. Oh shit he hates me now, doesn't he. He started scratching at the back of his neck, and asked Virgil with a strangled voice, "What's the time?"

Virgil was caught off guard, but answered, "8:15."

The older boy winced, clambering out of the fort as well. "Shit." He immediately stood up and made his way to his dresser, rummaging through them before he found a clean towel. He made for the bathroom, before stopping and turning to Virgil.

"Uh, do you mind if I..?" "Go ahead." Logan shot him a thankful smile before vanishing into their en suite.

Virgil stared at the closed door confused. Logan didn't appear to mad at him, if fact he'd acted like the entire situation was normal. But at the same time he was very on edge today... Yup. He probably hated Virgil. He didn't talk to him at all, did he. He'd even interupted Logan's routine, and he did have OCD... Virgil wasn't sure if that was how OCD worked, but still.

He swallowed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Despite himself, he could hear the voice of a certain therapist ringing in his head, "Try not to worry about it if you can't change it." At first he'd scoffed at Picani's overly cheerful manner, but the dude did have a point. Virgil stood up, his back clicking uncomfortably.

He attempted to distract himself by starting to dismantle their pillow fort. If he was being honest he was sad to see it go. It was one of the best he'd ever made. Virgil let his mind wander as he folded blankets, bringing last night's revelation to mind.

So he might have a crush on Logan. Nevermind, scratch that; he definitely had a crush on Logan. His roommate. Whom he'd be stuck with for a year, bar the holidays. And the year after, until they both graduated. Wow. Feelings are stupid.

It wasn't like he actually stood a chance with him, after all. Logan was witty, and charming, and snarky, and attractive, and Virgil was... Virgil. Not to mention he didn't know the first thing about a healthy relationship, or relationships at all. The very thought of flirting terrified, never mind admitting his feelings.

And Logan probably hated him anyway, who didn't. He was just putting up with Virgil because he didn't know anybody else yet, Virgil had figured that out ages ago. If he hadn't earlier, he certainly did now, with the whole cuddling disaster.

He shoved his blankets into his trunk with more force than he intended.

"What did that trunk ever do to you?" Virgil's stomach tightened as he whirled around to see Logan looking at him worried from the bathroom door. His tie was dangling around his neck losely, his hair wet and ruffled. Logan peered at Virgil through slightly fogged glasses and a concerned expression.

Virgil gave a tight laugh as he felt his insides try to devour themselves. He turned back to his trunk, wincing slightly. The tension hung like a blanket over the two of them, making Virgil's stomach clench unbearably. His ears strained for any sign of movement from the other male, soon to be greeted by the sound of Logan's footsteps coming in his direction.

Virgil spun around to see the two of them were only a foot apart. His throat started to close up, and he diverted his gaze, crossing his hands over his stomach. Logan cocked his head to the side, surveying the boy in front of him, troubled.

"Virgil, are you sure you're alright?" Virgil nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Logan didn't seem to hate him, but he wasn't out of the storm yet. Logan narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure? You seem nervous." Virgil winced. He probably looked like shit. He hadn't even brushed his hair yet. Logan scrunched his nose, and Virgil felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. He was too cute.

"Virgil-" "I'm fine, Specs." Logan presssed on. "If this is about the sleeping on the floor thing, I see nothing to worry about." Virgil looked at him incredulously. "Why would I be worried about sleeping on the floor?" Logan shrugged. "You looked worried about something, and that was all I could think of."

Is this guy for real?

"Logan." "Yes?" "What about sleeping on the floor is worrying?" He looked away from Virgil, embarrassed. "I don't know, it's just what we did! I'm not good with social cues, okay." he mumbled, a small blush dusting his cheeks. Virgil laughed, tension disappearing.

"Were you worried about the sleeping position then?" "U-Uh..." Virgil could feel his face heat up. Logan grinned at him, knowing he'd hit the jackpot. "Did you not like it?" he asked with smirk.

"I mean- I-I didn't hate it-" "If you're nervous about me opposing it, there's no need to worry." he said said in a soft voice, walking over to his dresser and picking up a hairbrush.

Oh god he's blushing. Logan's blushing. Wut. I don't-

"You were warm, and frankly, quite good at cuddling."

Virgil.exe has stopped working.

That's it. Virgil was dead. Logan thought he was a good cuddler. WHAT THE FU-

Virgil stood frozen, his mouth clamped shut. If he opened it chances were he'd make some mortally embarrassing sound.

"Virgil?" He squeaked, whirling around to look at Logan; who was watching him with a fond smile. "Yes?" "You might want to get ready, you know. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes." Virgil started before walking to his dresser, his face burning. His stomach was filled with the most infernal butterflies that wouldn't sit still, and that insufferable floaty feeling was back. The minute Logan's back was turned, Virgil's face split into a grin.

God this is stupid. But he couldn't stop.

...

"What took you guys so long?" asked Patton, adjusting his bag strap. Virgil could feel his blush return under all the foundation.

"We made a pillow fort last night. We had to take it down." said Logan, scrolling through his phone. Roman and Patton stared at the two of them open mouthed. Virgil groaned, burying his head in hands. Logan has no idea what he just did, does he. Logan looked up from his phone, confused by the lack of noise coming from the group. His eyes widened as he registered the other's expressions.

"What?"

"You built a pillow fort?" screeched Patton, flapping his sweater paws. "I thought you guys were the doomy-gloomy ones." said Roman, shifting his weight and looking at the two incredulously. He glanced at Virgil. "And emo nightmare condoned this?"

"Virgil did most of it, actually. I was following his instuctions for the most part." shrugged Logan, pocketing his phone. Virgil glared at him and recieved a heart stopping smile in return. "Emo nightmare built a pillow fort?!" "He added fairy lights as well." said Logan, starting in the direction of the dining hall.

Virgil shrunk into his hoodie, avoiding the other two's gaze. Roman gave a breathy chuckle as they started to walk.

"You guys are adorable. Especially you, Virg." "No I'm not!" "Yes you are." Virgil groaned.

"Yes he is!" called Logan from where he was standing. "But could you guys hurry up?" "Traitor!" Virgil shot back. "For goodness sake, Virgil, you act like a cat half the time. You can't blame me." said Logan smirking. "He acts like a cat?!" "My edginess is disappearing! Cut it out!" "You're like an angry kitten." said Roman teasingly. "He is!!!" gushed Patton. Virgil glared at Logan again. "Well Logan's a cuddler!" shot back Virgil, smirking. The grin dropped off the Logan's face. "I am not-" "Sure." Virgil rolled his eyes. "-You were the one who started it!"

"Wait, what do you mean started it?" smiled Roman, eyes darting between the two of them. Virgil froze and turned red. In the corner of his eye he could see Logan rub the back of his neck, his face resembling a stawberry. "I-I simply meant-" "Oh my goodness you cuddled?!" shrieked Patton. "No we didn't-!" "That's technically a lie." mumbled Logan, his glasses starting to fog up. Virgil pulled his hood up, his face steaming.

"Oh my god would you two just kiss already?" "ROMAN!"

......

Summary : Virgil wakes up and it turned out Virgil and Logan cuddled overnight. Socially awkward shenanigens ensue and the two get teased by Patton and Roman as they walk to breakfast.

TAGS :

@tired-babyboy

@someone-idk-is-here

@true-chaotic-dumbass

@666frostwolf

@yerkesdodsoncurve

If you want to be added to the tag list just shoot me an ask :)

39 notes · View notes

whitherliliesbloom · 4 years

Text

An Order of Dandelions

He could never forget the scent of caramel coffee in the air, or the sight of the gentle smile that graced her expression as she waved him goodbye. It was a call for him to visit again, an urge and temptation he would never refuse.

Modern AU ✿ Illya/Alphinaud ✿ 3,464 words

"A new cafe again, young master?"

He's used to hearing that question asked to him as the scenic view of the city passes him by, his hand idly stroking a length of fur upon his lap as he answers with nothing more than a firm nod.

His chauffeur may not understand it, but Alphinaud was a firm believer of expanding your horizons, trying something new, or some variation of the saying.

He could most certainly not hurt to afford spending his money on the same few chain coffee stores near the campus or his home, and just a few years back he'd even expressed his disbelief at his twin sister's insistence on eating out at those rustic fast food joints rather than the far more trustworthy alternative of five star french cuisine. A disbelief that prompted him to visit a rustic cafe for coffee once, and ever since that first visit, he'd become a devoted convert.

He was enamored by the modest settings of cafe, the more often than not extraordinary decor that put even the fanciest of restaurants he's seen throughout his life to shame. The prices for the food and drinks were extraordinary too - extraordinarily low for quality he'd consider no different from alternatives 5 times the price.

He'd gone from curiosity of a naive rich man's son to a full fledged cafe hopping addict now.

This time, his sights were set on a quaint little cafe he's heard his classmates mentioned once in passing during their lunch time conversations. They said nothing more than the bare minimum to get him curious - that the coffee was delicious, the decorations were pretty and that the barista was apparently nice.

A purr snatches his attention, and the boy turns his head to smile down at the cat that laid belly up upon his lap.

"I shall watch over Romeo as usual, young master."

"My thanks."

Brief words of thanks are punctuated by the sound of the tires braking against the asphalt as the car stops gracefully outside of the quiet little building.

Rows of potted flowers hung just above the window that would give passerby a glimpse into the seating area within. White wooden tables and chairs neatly lined up against the wall where even more potted plants decorated the rustic white planks, green vines taking the place of the ever popular fairy lights he's seen a good number of cafes use. And though the window gave a good view of the handful of customers already seated within, and the sheer amount of plant life that shared that space, the counter is obscured from view behind the wall. He’d assume there would be a short line of people waiting for their orders to be taken.

A small sign was parked right above the window, framed by what else but a wreath of leaves and flowers of every colour of the rainbow.

The Lavender Brew

A suitable name for one so obsessed with plants, Alphinaud thought to himself. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He hasn't even stepped foot outside the car and he's already sold on the concept.

"Let me know if there's anything else you need, young master." The bearded man in the driver’s seat finally turns to speak to him, and Alphinaud flashes a smile of gratitude in return.

"I will, Pierre. I shall return shortly."

Much to the dismay of the blonde cat that had just been resting so blissfully upon his master's lap, he's quickly scooped up and dropped onto the back seat, evidently less than pleased as it let out a low pitched meow.

Alphinaud is used to the demands of his cat however, and has no regrets with opening the car door and closing it behind him without even a second glance back.

A bell chime greets his entrance into the cafe, and he's immediately hit by the familiar scent of coffee intermingled with floral notes he was less accustomed to. He notes with a low hum that he was right about there not being too many people waiting by the counter.

A display refrigerator he hadn't been able to see from the outside stood proudly next to the counter, housing a myriad of palm sized cakes and pastries along with handwritten cards noting the name of each dessert and their respective prices.

Eye catching as the desserts were, his attention is drawn to the chalk board on the wall behind the counter, where more of the same handwriting now listed a menu of drink items with their prices. Espresso, mocha and lattes he's very much used to.. a subset list of both floral and fruit juices less so, but it further adds to the naturalistic theme this cafe seemed so adamant to follow.

His line of sight breaks upon catching a flash of white at the corner of his eye and he turns his head back down to finally look at the barista.

Long straight white hair fluttered to and fro after the girl as she rushed from one end of the station behind the counter to the other, frantically preparing the orders of the patiently waiting customers who were far more interested in whatever was being displayed on their smart phones. A pink ribbon broke the monotone of her pure white hair behind her head, and he notes to himself with a small amount of amusement that the white patterns on the ribbon were of lilies.

When the lady finally turns around to hand the customer a take away cup of their order, a timid little 'thank you so much!' breathlessly leaving her lips, Alphinaud's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

Wide violet eyes that practically glisten in the light, almost porcelain-like light skin and a button nose. The woman's sense of dress is simple, but most suited for her. Coupled with how she stood more than a foot shorter than even he and her youthful appearance, he'd garner a guess that she was no older than him, and perhaps even younger.

If this were the very same barista his classmate had been speaking about, he'd have to very much agree with their prognosis about her 'cuteness'.

Alphinaud may be rich, but he most certainly isn’t entitled. At least, he’d like to believe he isn’t, a claim so many others of his age had throw thoughtlessly his way with zero regards of his feelings. And so he has always made it a point to emulate the behavior of what his father titled ‘commoners’. From occasionally picking up groceries for himself, to the now comfortable routine of standing in line at a cafe as he takes in the sights around him.

He quickly scurries to the end of the queue and attempts to make full use of his time waiting by thinking on what he’d like to order until his train of thought was rudely disrupted by the rough rattle of the bell as the door to the cafe opened.

“Hey, lady! This isn’t what I ordered!”

A man stomps in, pushing past the first customer in front of the counter to slam his disposable coffee cup onto the table. It barely makes a sound, but the anger in his voice is enough to contort the barista’s expression into one of unbridled fear.

“U-um-- W-What was it that you ordered again, sir?”

“I ordered a goddamn Americano, not Macchiato, idiot!”

There isn’t a single pair of eyes in the cafe that wasn’t directed towards the bellowing man now. Though the gazes of the patrons within the cafe had ranged from mild curiosity to annoyance, the trembling barista behind the counter had been left alone with a wavering stare of terror.

“I-I’m so sorry! I’ll prepare a Macchiato for you right away, sir!”

“I ain’t got time to wait for you to make another shitty cup of your brew! You’ve already wasted enough of my time making me come back here to tell you this!”

Hushed whispers passed among the handful of customers that had been waiting in line, presumably badmouthing the audacity of the man to quite literally scream in the face of a woman who seemed about ready to fall to the floor. Inaction and idle gossip however, has never quite been Alphinaud’s style; it was never the Leveilleur style.

“There must certainly be a better way to express your dissatisfaction than to yell at a lady like that.” The boy’s words pierces through the air, and the man directs his narrowed glare towards him.

“What’s that gotta do with you, kid?! Stay out of it!”

“You’re making a scene, sir. You claim that she wasted your time, and yet are you not wasting the time of everybody waiting in line yourself?” Unwavered, Alphinaud folds his arms across his chest. “I’m certain the police would say the same if we were to call them here.”

The threat certainly seemed to get through to the man at least. His eyes almost spitting fire out at the insolent teen who seemed to have no intentions of backing off. The boy’s well dressed, probably well to do.. if he were to lay a hand on him, then surely no good would come of it.

Finally stepping back, the man hurriedly leaves the cafe, though not without leaving a final signal of his ire by slamming the door. The sound of the door smashing shut, and the echoes of the bell as it noisily chimed for the next several seconds was enough to cause the poor barista to jump in her skin.

“Don’t let jerks like him get to you.” one of the customers, a woman with a freckled face and curly brunette hair waved her hand to catch the young woman’s attention. “He probably won’t ever come back, anyway.”

The sentiment seemed to be shared by the other customers, who were quick to turn their attention back to their own business after sparing a final sympathetic glance at the woman behind the counter.

Alphinaud hadn’t expected anything out of the incident, really. Such actions was only natural, or at least something that should be expected out of the future heir of a corporation. He could not hope to lead others if he did not have the courage to stand up for what he believed to be right, or at the very least defend those with a lesser voice than he.

It was but a small unpleasant blight during an otherwise uneventful day.

“U-um... Thank you so much...”

It wasn’t until the other customers before him had been served and the line in front of the counter had dispersed that he heard her voice directed towards him. It was almost like a whisper, a single light chime in the wind. The girl’s hands clasped together in front of her chest as she stared up at Alphinaud with glossy violet eyes.

The sincerity in her words caught him unaware at first, but he was quick to shake his head and flash her a smile as a return.

“You needn’t thank me. I just did what was right.”

“B-but...” the girl stutters, fingers now fidgeting restlessly as her eyes darts to the planks of wood beneath her feet. “You...you protected me.. from that man and...”

Protected certainly is an unexpectedly huge word to be using for something so trivial, but Alphinaud could only imagine what such a valiant act would appear to be in the eyes of a woman who seemed barely capable of keeping eye contact with others.

“And I am certain many others would have done the same if they had the chance, miss.”

The girl averts her gaze, hands falling apart to allow one to brush strands of white over her ear. There’s no one behind him in line, but she still makes an attempt to recall her professionalism all the same.

“W-well,” she begins, her voice almost a whisper for a moment, before it becomes louder. “What would you like to order, sir?”

Alphinaud leans back slightly on one heel as he considers, glancing briefly at the blackboard menu decorated with small chalk drawings of flowers and leaves.

“How about you surprise me?” he asks pleasantly with a smile. He catches sight of her name tag as he looks back to her. Illya. “And call me ‘Alphinaud’, please.”

A light dusting of pink rises to the girl’s cheeks as she shuffles her feet nervously, still not quite looking at him. Pale pink lips tremble as she attempts to choke out his name as requested.

“Y-yes...S-si-.. Alphinaud.” Somehow, something twinges lightly in his chest as he hears her say his name. Perhaps the floral scent of the cafe is getting to him. “My name is...Illya.”

Her expression turns into one of consideration as she turns away from him slowly. He doesn’t think to tell her he’s already seen her name.

The light hiss of steaming milk fills the air as Illya begins preparing him her brew, evidently having decided upon something. Her movement is swift, evidently familiar with her station as she mixes a concoction of what he can tell to contain milk and some powder together. A minute later, she brings him the cup, lightly settles it upon the counter, and names the price.

“Ah...I sh-should have told you earlier...I’m sorry -- “

“No, no, it’s quite all right, nothing to worry about,” he reassures her, already pulling out his card to pay. The payment terminal makes a light beep as he taps it. He spares her another smile as he folds his wallet away. “What is it?”

“A-a...caramel latte.”

Oh -- he’s never had one of those. But he did ask her to surprise him, and she certainly did. He picks up the steaming cup and takes a sip.

It’s -- sweet. Almost cloyingly so.

Somehow, he manages to keep a grimace from rising to his features. Alphinaud has never been a big fan of overly sugary drinks. He’s used to the dark and bitter richness of his usual orders, but telling her he’s not fond of it, especially after what had happened earlier felt a tad cruel.

His panic spikes when she, hesitantly, asks him how it is, and he has to pray that he’s managed to remain composed.

“It’s...good.” Relief washes over him like a tidal wave as he sees her pretty violet eyes light up. “It’s certainly surprising! I’ve never had one of these before.”

“I’m so glad.” The sheer sincerity behind her words is near enough to take his breath away, though why, he’s not entirely sure.

“I-Illya,” he stammers a moment, internally cursing himself, as he nurses his cup and takes another small sip. “How did you come to own such a quaint cafe?” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t attempt to make such conversation, but it doesn’t feel right to simply leave, and there’s nobody else waiting either way.

“Oh...” Illya trails off, her gaze averting yet again. “I-it’s -- it used to be my parents’. My mother put me in charge of the cafe after I graduated high school.. A-And since I’ve always liked flowers, I t-turned it into a florist shop as well...”

One pale eyebrow quirking in surprise, Alphinaud turns slightly to glance at one of the many displays of flowers and plants festooning the establishment. Now that she mentions it, he can indeed see that some of them have price tags attached.

From an assortment of potted cactus plants and flower, to smaller trinkets that he assumes to be mini terrariums.. it’s plain to see much love and care was put into the array of plants that was put on sale.

“What a wonderful idea! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cafe quite like this before. I think it’s very unique.”

Dusts of red returns to the white-haired girl’s cheeks full-force, though this time a smile accompanies it.

“I’m...glad to hear that. I-it’s not that great though.”

Silence passes between them as the young man takes another sip of his drink. For some reason, he wants to say something else. Illya looks unoccupied, perhaps a little out of sorts, as she stands at the counter. The other shop patrons are sitting at their tables, some engaged in conversation, others nose-deep in their phones.

It wasn’t that he was exceptionally chatty. But something about the girl compels him to want to take an extra effort at conversation, somehow.

Come to think of it, Illya looks about his age, doesn’t she...? Does she man the cafe the entire day...?

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asks her suddenly. She startles, eyes wide as she looks up at him from beneath her fringe of pale hair.

“U-um...I’m...twenty...”

Ah, so only a few months older than he is.

“Is that so? I turn twenty in about another 6 months myself.” he offers, since it’s only polite. “Are you...” There’s a brief pause as he rethinks his words. “In school?”

Whilst it’s common to begin university or college at the age of nineteen or eighteen..he’d rather not fluster or embarrass her if perhaps she’d started late...or had any difficulty...that’s simply not his style. And she’s already nervous enough.

“I...If you mean college... I never went.” Her gaze is downcast, shoulders tense in something that might well be shame. “I...my parents...we didn’t have enough...”

The hitch in her voice was almost enough to cause his heart to ache, and he can already hear a nagging voice in his conscious chiding him for being so foolish as to bring up such a sensitive topic.

“Oh. I see.” She doesn’t need to continue for him to understand. The taste on his tongue is sour, and he takes a mouthful of latte to soothe it. “I’m sorry.”

“I-it’s okay!” Illya quickly waves a hand to placate him. “I’m...I’m happy here. I-it’s all right.” For a moment, Alphinaud has the sinking feeling she’s trying to justify herself to him. But then --

“I’m happy that I get to carry on my parents’ hard work.”

The sincerity in her voice and expression is nearly enough to floor him, and he can’t believe he had been so self-centered and patronizing as to assume she might be...ashamed of working at a small little cafe filled with flowers. That soft, gentle smile --

He has to swallow around the strange lump in his throat.

“It’s certainly very admirable. I’m...glad I got to meet you here, Illya.”

He’s glad he wandered into this quaint little shop of warm drinks and pastries and flowers. He’s glad -- to have defended her, to have allowed her to send his preconceived notions and beliefs flying with those tiny hands of hers, for the warmth rising in his chest like a steaming coffee.

Illya’s violet eyes dart up to meet his, shocked. Before she can say anything else, there’s a light ring at the door as someone else enters the shop. Clearing his throat, Alphinaud gives the white-haired girl a nod and a smile.

“Thank you for your time today, Illya. And thank you for the...latte.”

He hesitates a single moment, and the girl is too flustered to say anything. There was a moment of silence between the pair as he waits, hoping for a response. He could not help the hint of disappointment he felt as he watched Illya avert his gaze, a hand moving up to comb strands of silky hair back behind her ear.

“Goodbye.”

Alphinaud turns, and just as he was about to fully step out the door he’d opened however, he hears her squeak out a question.

“W-Will you be coming back someday, Alphinaud?”

Like a javelin through his chest, he nearly stumbles from the skipping of his heart beat. Color rises up his face, almost dark enough to match the red of the roses that stood proudly among the display the shelves.

“Of course.”

Alphinaud dares to cast a final glance back, and immediately regrets his decision when she sees the bright smile that graced Illya’s face. Her hand raised, waving sheepishly at him.

He finally steps outside, but not even a gulp of fresh air was enough to steady the racing of his heart, nor did the impatient meows of Romeo who had peeked his head out the opened car window. The cup in his hand still feels warm, and yet it paled in comparison to the heat that filled his head.

Alphinaud raises the beverage up to his chapped lips, gulping in the last of the brew that tingled his taste buds and lets out a low hum at the tender sweetness. He feels immense regret at the fact that his cup was now empty, but that was simply all the more reason to pay The Lavender Brew a second visit.

He may well just have found his new favorite drink.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #alphinaud leveilleur #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #alphinaud #modern au #mine #THANK YOU TO LAURELISMUN FOR HELPING ME WITH A GOOD PORTION OF THIS FIC #WRITER'S BLOCK IS AWFUL YO #especially when you're like studying for exams difnioffasdaiod #this has been rotting in my drafts for several weeks #glad to finally be rid of this garbage #other verses

24 notes · View notes

fmstevie · 4 years

Text

* ╰ waddup y’all ruby’s back 2 annoy u all w a lil british fuckboi action . here’s stevie , inspired by matty healy n thinkin she’s a god among men . i don’t recommend u read on but in case u do i pray u forgive me enough 2 want plots w that like button . 🤡

new york’s very own 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄 ‘ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 ’ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 was spotted on broadway street in doc marten smooth leather chelsea boots . your resemblance to diana silvers is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty - second birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐬 , but also 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 . i guess being a cancer explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be erudite inclinations informed by a god complex , melodrama as your magnum opus , & the world’s most secretive love life . ( i had a secret marriage that lasted 6 months but ended due to my fear of my family’s mafia ties getting in the way . ) & ( cis female & she / her )

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : stephanie charlotte greystone 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 : primarily stevie , although her stage name is ‘ grey ‘ which has caught on as a go-to nickname . takes little to nothing else wilingly 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : twenty - two 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : cancer 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : professional musician with a voiceclaim of lorde , on temporary hiatus to write grey3 . casual photographer 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cis female / she her hers 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : pansexual w strong female pref but tbh if u can handle her energy she’ll b down WKERWJER 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 : 5’10 🤤 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒔 : the hedonist , the aesthete , the opaque , the vainglorious , the prodigy , the intangible concept 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔 : rhiannon - fleetwood mac / WHAT U CALL THAT - chase atlantic / iceberg - borns / UGH - the 1975 / boss bitch - doja cat / elephant - tame impala / black hole sun - soundgarden / black madonna - cage the elephant / this charming man - the smiths / swim - chase atlantic / 1999 WILDFIRE - brockhampton

tw drug mention

𝒊. 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

there is perhaps no more a formidable surname in the organized crime circuit in all of europe than greystone , a name risen to fame through countless court cases and highly publicized trials . dubbed ‘ el chapo of the old world , ‘ liam greystone makes his reputation known as a ruthless and conniving leader of a million dollar cartel business , distributing to most of the UK and eastern europe . it’s perhaps an even greater shock to find even as public enemy #1 , he takes a welsh wife by the name of marissa and weds her in a lavish and very public ceremony , surmounting crowds not unlike those of the royal weddings . such a decision is a clear power move on his part , flexing the pure influence it would require to have such a public family life with no fear of repercussion from rivals or enemies .

it’s several months following their wedding that james is born , with nicholas taking a few years after . elite prep schools in the most posh london neighborhoods were abuzz with equal parts curiosity and concern to be sharing streets with the most feared mafia family in their whole country , though the elite nature of liam’s new societal presence meant he took to his ‘ dealings ‘ with a but more subtlety than before his rise to power . something of a media frenzy , it’s the talk of the town when marissa falls pregnant another time , nearly a decade after nicholas’s birth , this time with a baby girl , something that’s all the sun and mirror can seem to post about in their celebrity tabloids section for weeks on end . her birth raises questions of immense speculation : what will the world do with a greystone girl ?

as it would result , they’d worship her . stevie found herself raised in a world that sought her out at every turn , cameras pointed towards her at every outing . james and nick , now teens by the time she enters primary and just as big of terrors as their father , view their lavish lifestyle as the result of some bigger destiny for greatness , as their father had always fed to them , something they passed on to their baby sister who took it as her mantra . one of the earliest manifestations of a rather intense personality , stevie takes this to an extreme , turning her unwanted stardom into a fuel for an ever-increasing god complex to develop . the apple of her father’s eye and every bit as quick , her instructors note a dedication to perfection and an obsession with accomplishment , along with a natural intelligence that leads her to blast through her studies with relative ease .

she’s just 16 when she completes her schooling and already has a reputation that will precede her , just as her surname had before . relaxed and observant , her voice never peaks higher than a low alto with her charming londoner drawl , a facade never cracking from her knowing poker face . there’s something about being so above everyone ( even if it is a self-imposed superiority ) that leads stevie all but to the brink of isolation , finding solace only in the words of a self-deluded father and her own scribings in a leather bound notebook . piano lessons since early childhood lend themselves to melodies following melodies , and before she’s even able to legally drink , she’s released her first album under the moniker ‘ grey ’ titling it pure heroine as a cheeky nod to the inevitable accusations of it being her family ties that got her a record deal . but as streams of the melancholy tunes begin to pick up fans worldwide , the album’s themes of isolation , abandonment , and wasted youth hit harder than ever anticipated from the youngest greystone . she leaves home to tour the world with the album reaching #1 in countless countries , forging her own path with a maturity beyond her years and a vision beyond this world .

the tour ends and she’s smitten by the charm of new york , opting to move to continue to pursue her music away from the tangled complications of family life in england . barely 18 and perhaps intoxicated with the loneliness of a life spent in the watching eye of others , the semblance of privacy is something she takes to like an addict , exasperating prying paparazzi with her notorious refusal to comment on details of her personal life . she builds a wall between herself and the world , keeping out prying eyes with a tight - lipped grin . its at this time that she lets the first person into her life perhaps ever , a whirlwind romance so intoxicating it results in a courthouse marriage done in secret . never to be seen together , never a word spoken to anyone else , stevie relishes in the secret which is soon to sour upon the passing of their honeymoon phase . with her brothers expanding their reach into the US for their unsavory dealings , it’s not long after her marriage begins that the conflicts reach a breaking point , an annulment following barely 6 months after they had traded ‘ i do’s . ’

she takes to the studio with a new resentment of the concept of love and even more sequestered heart , producing melodrama which takes the world by storm , snagging her a grammy win for album of the year . fatigued from the constant go-around of keeping her secrets her own except for when they’re taken to radio streams , she does a limited tour for melodrama and lands herself right back in new york at 20 , putting grey3 on the backburner as she takes to all the hedonistic engagements she had indulged herself in during her time on tour . she’s kept herself busy between mindless flings and days-long benders with hobbies such as photography and writing , the former of which is building her a rather impressive reputation in the arts world .

𝒊𝒊. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 .

if y’all ain’t tired of me yet god bless u . .. . bc i straight up b tired of myself :/

anyways dis is stevie , also accepts grey the same way ppl talk abt lorde n switch between ella n lorde ! she’s not picky :~)

major inspos are matty healy from the 1975 n hayley kiyoko if she was less of a try hard . little bit of kristen stewart in there , big 2016 ruby rose energy n brie larson top me tomfoolery as well !

basically da fuckboi of ur dreams .. .. . lil devilish londoner who stays thinkin she’s the closest thing to a god on this green earth !

notably , she’s incredibly intelligent and profound , tends to take on a rather patronizing and condescending tone bc she straight up b thinkin she’s usually the smartest person in the room ( how annoying )

so laid back n observant , rlly has no need to raise her voice ever bc her arguments b runnin circles around ppl ! imagine the way harry styles talks low n slow n calculated. . . . . cameron from love is blind ,. .. . kristen stewart lowkey sometimes .. .. .. das grey . sexy ass alto monotone 🤤🤤

i dont wanna use chaotic bc she rlly isnt the WILDEST bitch but that god complex means she deadass thinks she can get away w what she wants n she usually does ? less of a chaotic evil n more like a neutral evil lmao she can follow rules just fine she jsut prefers whatever suits her better

on that note — OBSCENELY self obsessed . follows her own natural whims n impulses bc that’s just what appeals to her . is inclined to follow rules if she calculates itll work in her favor bc she also doesn’t like to look sloppy !

super secretive and OBSESSED w her presentation . every movement is calculated n she doesnt want anyone seeing a side of her that she hasn’t designated for them ! she doesn’t care what other ppl think but she DOES care abt what she sees herself doing n her vision . doesnt fit the vision ? will NOT happen in her book .

straight up a WHORRE lmao she likes 2 fill the void left by a lack of human connection w sexual intimacy n then is like nice imma have u leave now love LMAO . does not discriminate and is rlly inclined to follow any sexual impulse

this was implied but her relationships are super messy ? does the leonardo dicaprio thing where she will never fuckin discuss her love life in interviews or anything so ppl just gotta SPECULATE . she lets ppl post all they want abt her but she wont say a WORD abt them JWHEKJWH her socials r basically just abt her n her music we said SELFISH lads . she’s bad @ bein tied down n is probs polyamorous as it stands but im p sure she has cheated on every single person she has ever been with lmao

lowkey a shit friend most of the time lMAO she can b really unreliable bc u guys can have plans n then she takes someone home n misses yalls plans n then texts u 4 hours later after all ur missed calls n is like my bad bruv i got tied up AS IF THAT FIXES IT KWEJKWJEKWE

chain smoker n its nastie but lowkey sexy somehow :/ , will ONLY wear outfits that r equal parts thrifted n designer , always has her hands in her pockets n if her jacket has a hood its UP like a big ole homo , is rlly annoying bc shes good looking n KNOWS it so she uses it to her advantage , wants 2 get her motorcycle license , judges u based off the music u play in the car , judges u on everything tbh.

#wealthyhq:intro #* ╰ . 𝒔 . 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 . › introduction .#sorry 4 dis trash hittin the dash 🥰#just COULD NOT wait n format any longer

11 notes · View notes

kryptored · 5 years

Text

Glomp (pt.4)

Squishy and velvety

Adrien was highly baffled of this new development with Plagg. One night, he vehemently refuses to come close to him. The next, he’s “just experimenting,” or so he claims to be doing. This so called experiment? Kneading on his cheeks. Fascinating, really.

“Uh…Plagg?”

“What is it, kid?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but…what started this?”

“Oh, you mean this?” The kwami replies with matching enthusiastic kneads to his left cheek.

“Yeah, that. I thought you wanted nothing to do with cuddles?”

“Now, wait just a minute. One, this isn’t me wanting to cuddle you. Not ever, really. Two, who said I was doing this for pure enjoyment on my part? I need answers, and you just happen to be the only one I’m allowed to be seen with.”

“I feel insulted.”

“As you should be. Your cheeks are as hard as rocks!” Adrien lets out a whimper.

“They are not!” His eyes travel to the kwami floating in front of him, hands slowly lifting to touch his cheeks. His fingers consciously poke them, as if trying to reassure himself that they were not indeed rocks. “I would’ve been less insulted if you actually called them ‘chiseled,’ but rocks? I think not.” He pouts in indignation, but Plagg doesn’t take notice of it.

“Say what you want, kid. But they aint as soft you think they were.”

“And I’ll ask you again – what brought this on?”

“Eh,” Plagg subtly tilts his head away from his holder, “just got bored and curious. Also, I don’t want to get rusty with my kneading.”

“What – kneading – you don’t get rusty with kneading!”

“That’s what you think, but you’re not a cat.”

“You’re a kwami that happens to look like a cat.”

“Semantics.”

The kwami floats to the couch in front of the TV, lounging at one of the pillows where a box of Camembert was placed at. He takes a piece and bites into it, humming in satisfaction. Adrien, on the other hand, is still bewildered of the actions of his kwami and keeps his sight on him while he takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch. He grabs the remote on the coffee table and turns on the TV, flipping from channel to channel to find a good show to watch at such an hour (it was pretty late, but he’s used to it at this point).

Almost half an hour passes by, with Adrien fully engrossed in the show while Plagg has now moved and curled up on his right shoulder. The black cat-sprite also has his eyes glued to the lit-up screen in front of them, but his attention isn’t as absorbed as the blond. In fact, his thoughts are running wildly.

‘Big bug is definitely made up of dough. All that flesh couldn’t possibly be as human as everyone believes.’ Plagg’s eyes shifts to his holder’s face, or to what he is able to see from his angle. Suddenly, an idea comes to him. An idea so devious, so mischievous, he can’t help but allow the grin to spread across his velvety cheeks. If one were to look at him now, they would think him deranged with how wide his grin is, eyes and canine teeth glinting in the dimly lit room of his chosen. ‘This will be fun.’

The next morning while Adrien is busily putting his clothes on, Plagg floats right behind him where he is within hearing range. “You know, Adrien, last night had me thinking.”

“And did it hurt much?”

“I’m going to choose to ignore you being a smart mouth.” This gives the teen a laugh and a corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m glad you find this amusing. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Since you’re not the softest of dough out there,” the teen grunts in disagreement, “I do think there’s someone who is.”

“Oh? And who exactly does?” He has his back to Plagg, so it prevents Adrien from seeing the dangerous smirk plastered on his kwami’s face. “Do pray tell, who is the special person I must fight the title for?”

“Oh, just pigtails girl.” This stops Adrien from rummaging inside his bag, gradually turning back to the kwami.

“Wha…Marinette?”

“Yeah. Why, you jealous?”

“N-no! I just wasn’t…expecting that.” His eyes drop to the floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t know just how soft they really are,” a lie, “but that’s what I think.” Plagg is confident to admit that when squinting hard enough, he sees the miniscule blush spreading across his holder’s face. The seed is planted, he now only needs to wait for it to grow into a fruitful harvest.

Skip to class hours, and Plagg once again finds himself inside big bug’s bag (heh, I had too much fun with alliteration) with Tikki. They’re both curled up against each other, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence and taking a (cat) nap. He hears the teacher announce that she’s leaving the room for a few minutes to talk to someone, leaving the class to talk amongst themselves. Their murmurs gradually become louder like the buzzing of bees. He glances at the ladybug kwami, who is currently deep into dreamland. He carefully detaches himself away from her side, guilt twinging within him when he sees Tikki try to make up for the lack of warmth he was once providing her.

Promising to make it fast, his head pokes out of the small opening and peeks up to watch his plan unfold. Down to where he is, he sees Marinette talking excitedly to someone standing beside her with bright red hair, the previously akumatized Evillustrator, their sketchbooks opened and in full display in front of them. He then looks to the other side where his holder is, who actually looks to be surreptitiously stealing glances at big bug. It wasn’t too noticeable that the screeching banshee from the opposite row would call him out for it, but it was if one knew to look out for them. 'Plan is progressing.'

Akuma attack. Hawkmoth had no sense of taking a breather and thought of making another akuma during lunch break. This, of course, did not exempt Collège Françoise Dupont seeing it has become an infamous akuma – targeting school, much to the chagrin of staff and students. Outsiders, however, didn’t think too much and assumed that the villain terrorising their villain is just too fond of the school out of pure convenient manipulation.

Adrien, who is still highly entranced and distracted by the sight of his dearest friend’s cheeks, snaps out by just a second before flying debris hits them, accidentally tripping backwards and falling inside the open janitor’s closet with Marinette safely tucked in his arms. Before the chaos began, they had been standing close to each other nearby by ‘pure coincidence’ (which was the model secretly and subtly following around his friend) in front of the open closet. Neither of them notices something whizz in and out of the door as it closes, an object from the outside most likely hitting it from the outside with a loud thump. The impact and close physical contact between them allow Adrien to throw whatever personal space may have been allowed before the chaos and – softness. If someone were to ask Adrien what the first thought that came to him about the softness called Marinette’s cheeks, it would be, “like a squishy toy, so irresistible to touch and squeeze!”

Irresistible they were, not to mention the very thought of them had been – ahem, Plagging him since this morning, the teenager could no longer keep his impulse in check and reaches out. He does so ever so slowly, it makes the girl in his company catch him in the act. Him with his hand caressing the skin that almost felt similar to the rich velvet from the finest fabric store his father would sometimes bring him along with (which was rare). Completely absorbed with the sensational (get it? Hahaha…haha…ha) distraction his friend unwillingly provides, he –

“Adrien? W-what are you doing?” 'Gosh, even her voice sounds so soft.' “A-Adrien? Hey, are you okay? You’ve been acting distracted the whole day.”

It takes a few more fond nuzzlings of his hands to her cheeks before he wakes up from the hazy diversion, and he shakes his head for a clear mind. “U-uh, yeah. I’m fine. Okay. I-I’m s-so sorry, Marinette.” the model stammers, his blush taking over his entire face in quick succession. He suddenly realizes that his actions were far more…intimate than he’d ever initiated with her, with anyone! “I-uh… I don’t know what came over me, Mari! I really don’t –”

“H-hey, hey! It’s okay, really. Believe me, Adrien, I wasn’t e-expecting that, myself. But don’t beat yourself up with it, okay?”

“O-okay, Mari.”

Both teens are trying to look anywhere than the person they’re stuck with inside the janitor’s closet, and all they can do while they straighten up is convince themselves that the peeling paint from the walls and the dirty mop water in the bucket is far more interesting.

“So… an akuma, huh?” Adrien asks, but the voice in his mind says, ‘well that was a stupid question, you big dumdum.’ At this point, he doesn’t even question why the voice sounds like Plagg.

“Uh…yeah.” His good friend answers. His eyes eventually find the courage to look up, and he sees her holding tightly onto the strap of her purse. They’ve opted to not turn on the only source of light inside the closet, so he can see as far as the darkness and the night-vision he’d acquired from his miraculous (not that Marinette needed to know he was Chat Noir) provides him. Still, he can perfectly see how uncomfortable his friend is acting. what, with the way she’s currently switching the weight of her body from her right to left foot, her shoulders stiff, and – sweet mother of cats, the way she was pouting and puffing her cheeks like the hamster squishy he bought was litterally making her look paw meow apurrable than ever befur. ‘Wow, that’s the most puns I’ve made in a single sentence.’ A feat, and all in the name of the squishy and velvety – “A-Adrien?”

“Y-yeah?” He cringes when he hears the crack in his voice, cursing puberty silently and clears his throat. “I mean – yeah? Something wrong?”

“N-nothing, I’m just wondering if Chat Noir will be able to handle the akuma.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I just have a feeling that she’ll be delayed today.”

“I dunno, Mari. Chat Noir might be stuck somewhere, too.” 'Like in a janitor’s closet with a cute friend.' He hears Marinette hum, unsure if she’s in agreement or not. He sees her step closer to the door, wary of her surroundings to avoid knocking over anything and making any noise to attract the akuma rampaging nearby. She leans her head on the door, listening for signs of the akuma’s presence.

“It sounds pretty quiet outside, but I can’t be too sure. We didn’t really get to find out what kind of akuma they were.”

“You’re right. Do you think we should take a peek at least?”

“Yeah, just let me find the door knob.” He sees her hand slowly going down to where the door knob is, and carefully takes hold. She steadily twists it, only for the door to remain closed. “It… I don’t think it’s locked, but something’s definitely blocking the door from opening.”

Cats Almighty, he’s feline screwed at the meowment. Not that he doesn’t enjoy Marinette’s company, but an akuma needs to be stopped as soon as pawsible. And in order to do that, transfurming without outing himself was mandatory. But if they had no way of getting help from someone outside without risking them getting caught, he’ll have no choice but to do it in front of her and expose himself. He feels Plagg scurrying in his overshirt pocket, but ignores him.

“Okay, Marinette?” she looks up from the turning of the door knob, eyes looking troubled.

“Right now, we’re stuck inside the janitor’s closet and we can’t exactly risk calling or texting for help from our friends without endangering them. So, I’m going to do something that I’m trusting you to keep to yourself. Can you do that?”

Her eyes widen, hearing the determination in his request. “Uh…okay. You can trust me.”

“Alright, Plagg – ”

“Is here to make his famous biscuits!” The kwami says, bursting out from Adrien’s overshirt and barreling himself towards the big bug in civilian in a blur of black.

Both of them come to a standstill, neither of them uttering a word to each other. Plagg, on the other hand, was all too busy to get his nubby paws onto the acclaimed dough. Adrien Agreste, who also goes by as Chat Noir, has just been outed by the very being who provides him the privilege of a superhero identity. Not that he was already planning it, but this didn’t really make it better.

“P-Plagg! What are you doing?” He gestures to his kwami’s behaviour. Without saying a word, the kwami does nothing but carry on with the kneading (which was completely adorable, he has to admit) and turns his head to face his holder. And with all the self-satisfaction a cat-sprite could ever have, he grins ever so widely with teeth showing, eyes narrowing in mischief. Adrien has never seen his kwami look more pleased with himself until now. Plagg, in a show of defiance, goes ahead and turns his head back to Marinette.

“What’s up, big bug? Did you miss me?”

The girl in question is frozen in shock, mouth gaping and hands tightening their grip on her purse’s strap. “U-uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Plagg.”

Adrien looks to be pondering about something; something that his kwami said. “Wait… you know Plagg?”

“What?! No, I don’t! I don’t know a Plagg or any other kwami!” She realizes her slip-up too late and puts a hand on her mouth, as if it would prevent anymore secrets to come out. Marinette’s eyes are opened wider now, which Adrien is willing to mirror on his own face.

“M…M’lady?” he watches as the girl he now knows as Ladybug start to crumble, trembling in anxiety and eyes widely looking anywhere but him. He sees his kwami cackling as he continues with his kneading, and a small red head with antennae is peeks up from inside Marinette’s purse, big blue eyes glaring at his kwami.

Before he can even ask what ladybug’s kwami’s name is, a red blur shoots out from the purse and tackles the cat-sprite.“I can’t believe you just instigated that, Plagg! And stop hogging Marinette’s cheeks! I was the one who introduced them to you, so scram!”

Marinette’s face has never been redder until now.

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #plagg #tikki #squishy #velvety #fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #plagg being a little shit #Adrien wants to be called chiseled #Adrien's voice crack #fluff

23 notes · View notes

silverncrimson · 4 years

Text

( oscar isaac, 39, cismale, he / him ) Was that EZEKIEL ‘ZEKE’ MARCOLAS ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit CALLOUS & UNETHICAL, but I also heard they can be METICULOUS & PERCEPTIVE. You’ll usually find them at SKYFALL in their spare time, when they’re not being the OWNER OF MALNATI PIZZERIA. You may want to keep an eye on that one !

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Ezekiel Miguel Marcolas Nickname(s): Zeke Age: Thirty-Nine Occupation: Owner of Malnati Pizzeria Affiliation: O’Shea Birthday: February 12th Zodiac: Aquarius

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Alignment: Chaotic Evil

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Miguel Marcolas (deceased) Mother: Ruth Marcolas (deceased) Siblings: Constantine (35), Uriel (30), Isaiah (28), Yesenia (24)

Ex-Wife: Lucia Daughters: Stella & Stefania (15) Son: Raul (8)

- A P P E A R A N C E -

Height: 5′9″ Hair Color / Type: Dark brown Eye Color: Brown Piercings / Tattoos: No piercings. Five tattoos - the Chi Ro symbol on his left shoulder, being one of them

- H I S Q U I R K S -

He wears black leather gloves at ALL TIMES

He carries around with him pocket rags / handkerchiefs and disinfectant spray, for wiping down surfaces if he needs to

He burns EVERYTHING he gets dirty, usually from blood splatter - whether it’s his fancy jackets or his gloves (he’s got about a hundred backup pairs - several of them he keeps in his glove compartment).

He’s super meticulous about his clothes - they must be clean and tidy at all times

He often repeats himself, or counts out loud to himself

Does things in repetitions, especially if he is stressed about something

He will avoid cracks in the sidewalk

He will NOT shake your hand, or touch you at all...unless you’re his target

He drinks a shit lot of bourbon

Smokes a shit ton of cigars and cigarettes, alike

Very antisocial and a loner, but will talk to people if they initiate a conversation

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Fiercely Loyal, Calm, Meticulous, Observant, Perceptive (-) Callous, Unethical, Intense, Inflexible, Perfectionist

- H I S D E M O N S -

He suffers from: OCD, Mysophobia, Claustrophobia

Excessive thoughts (obsessions) that lead to repetitive behaviors (compulsions).Obsessive-compulsive disorder is characterized by unreasonable thoughts and fears (obsessions) that lead to compulsive behaviors.

OCD often centers on themes such as a fear of germs or the need to arrange objects in a specific manner.

compulsive behavior

agitation

hypervigilance

impulsivity

meaningless and persistent repetition of own words or actions

repetitive movements

ritualistic behavior

social isolation

Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs.

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Life long resident of Chicago, IL

The oldest of five kids. He’s got three younger brothers and a younger sister - they’re not all that close.

He suffers from OCD and Mysophobia, and a mild case of Claustrophobia - all of which developed when he was a very young child.

He had spent the summer with his aunt in Springfield, while his parents went to Mexico to visit his paternal grandparents. His Aunt Marina, unfortunately, turned out to be a massive hoarder. Her house was an absolute nightmare - disgustingly filled to the max with literal garbage, and other useless, dirty junk that she’d collected over a good ten or so years. There was no livable space anywhere, not even a proper bed, except for a very small nook in the corner of the house. He remembers vividly, to this day, the infestation of roaches, mice, rats and dead carcasses of rodents and cats, and not to mention all the fecal matter of said animals, that he’d come across that summer. The smell alone...

Even to his then four year old brain, it had been more than enough to traumatize him for life, despite not remembering much else about it.

Nowadays, he wears a pair of black leather gloves wherever he goes.

He's the owner of Malnati Pizzeria - has owned the place for ten years, his dad owning it before him. When his papi passed away, the business was then passed to Zeke.

Is divorced. He's got a vindictive ex-wife, two teen daughters (twins) and an 8 year old son - all three of whom he hardly sees these days because his ex-wife's such a bitch and has gotten the court to deny him visitation rights. So he's bitter, and angry, and HATES that woman with a passion.

His childhood was not terrible, but it wasn’t all that great, either. Especially for a kid who did suffer from OCD and who was a germaphobe.

For a good portion of his life, his family always struggled with income, and growing up in poverty in a large city like Chicago was not exactly a blast. They lived on the north side of the city, in a small, cramped, rundown apartment - it had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and it was always infested with cockroaches and mice, and spiders. His literal nightmare.

The walls were super thin, the floor tiles loose or broken, and the AC and heater rarely worked, so it was often way too cold or too hot, but never comfortable. With a family of seven living within it’s walls, it was...claustrophobic to say the least.

Things started to change gradually when he was around 12. His papi got fired from his job as a taxi driver due to him being a liability after being in one too many road-side accidents, which desperately drove him to search for work elsewhere. Somehow, and Zeke never did get the full answer from him, Miguel Marcolas wound up working for the O’Sheas. He was eventually given Malnati Pizzeria as a ‘gift’, a place of business that he could call his own, so long as he stayed loyal and did his part to keep O’Shea business running smoothly.

Zeke had always been a highly intelligent individual, scarily so, so he was quick to pick up on the changes in both his father and their financial situation. They went from barely having anything to eat or any clothes to wear, presents to give out for Christmas or birthdays, to having all that and more...more than any of them had ever had before. Of course, he wasn’t one to knock a good thing like a newfound well of money. Questioning where the pizzeria came from and how his papi was able to afford ownership wasn’t something Zeke cared to do, or know the answer to. It didn’t matter.

Though he knew deep down that whatever it was his papi was dabbling in, definitely wasn’t honorable or lawful...but again, the kid didn’t care. It eventually got him and his family out of that shit apartment, and that was a godsend in his eyes.

The older he got, the more he started helping out at the pizzeria, and by the time he was 14, Zeke had met a fair share of the members of the O’Shea gang. Because he wasn’t just another stupid and naive kid, by that time he’d already figured out exactly who his papi worked for; instead of being scared like most kids might have been, what with being surrounded on a daily basis with some of the worst criminals that the city had to offer, Zeke had felt safe in their presence. He felt in awe of those men and women and the power they held.

The uppers that passed through Malnati had their eyes on him from day one, it seemed. They clearly saw the keenness in his eyes, and the idolization, but also a great potential, because they kept him around. His father, not an affectionate or loving man by any means of the word, watched on proudly as his associates took an interest in his eldest son, quickly shaping and morphing his impressionable young mind.

At the age of seventeen, Zeke proudly received his Chi Rho, joining the O’Sheas as a sentinel. Like many, he’d have to prove to them all that he was worthy of the tattoo, and boy was he ready...and he sure as hell proved that, to.

Zeke was as loyal as one could be to the O’Sheas, and despite his OCD and Mysophobia that he had to contend with, he had his ways of working around that, and he quickly became a deadly killing machine under the close training of his General handler at the time. He rose rapidly through the ranks, until he reached his desired position among the gang - Bonebreaker.

He’s been a Bonebreaker for going on fifteen years now, and he was still thriving. He was a stone-faced killer, a psychopath with no emotions, no qualms about taking out whatever hit he was assigned. There was no remorse for what he did, and he doubted that there would ever be...he wasn’t capable of that kind of emotion.

- W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S -

Ex-Wife - He didn’t get worked up over a lot of things; it actually took quite a bit for him to even show that much emotion, but his ex-wife was certainly capable of pushing all of his buttons. He absolutely hated her, and the only reason she wasn’t dead, was because of his children’s sake. Despite not outwardly showing his love for his daughters and son, he did love them...as much as he was able to. They were about the only thing he truly felt any sort of positive emotions towards.

O’Sheas / Affiliates

Bonebreaker Interactions

Reaper Interactions

Malnati Pizzeria customers

Malnati Pizzeria employees

Anything!

#crimson.intro #zeke:intro #again it's not the best thing ever #again it's not the best intro ever #dropped muse

2 notes · View notes

zayashmaya · 5 years

Text

Gods and Monsters - 7 - Love.

Marvus x Reader ll Tagora x Reader; SFWish (mention of pailing in the beginning)

More chapters here!

You meet Marvus’s lusus, and Tagora handles you in typical Tagora fashion.

this chapter was inspired by the most magnificent set of tweets to ever exist, as well as my partner in crime @compositecreature :3

Look at you kids, you know you're the coolest

The world is yours and you can't refuse it

Seen so much, you could get the blues

But that don't mean that you should abuse it

Though it's enough just to make you go crazy, crazy, crazy

But you get ready, you get all dressed up

To go nowhere in particular

Back to work or the coffee shop It don't matter because it's enough

To be young and in love

- Lana Del Rey

Bathtime was calling for your filthy body.

You had been eager to see the ocean, but something steered you towards sleep instead. The night had been rife with cat-fights and debauchery, and when you caught a glimpse of the enormous ablution trap, you were hit with a wave of exhaustion that drained you of any motivation to visit the beach.

Marvus was busying himself with removing his jewelry while you turned on the shower spray, letting the water heat up on its own as you padded over to him. You took it upon yourself to wet a nearby wash cloth with the intention to clean off his facepaint. As you stood on your tip toes and struggled to reach over the sink, Marvus grinned and taunted you for your height.

“Ain’t got no ladders round here babe, u gonna b climbin me like a tree to get anywhere.”

“Hilarious. How’s the weather up there, by the way?”

“Feelin a lil chilly axxually, mite need a warm rusty to help me w dat.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, wringing out excess water from the cloth. Marvus looked down at you with a teasing smirk, and it might have looked attractive if not for the comical mess on his face.

“You look like an abstract painting,” you snarked and patted the countertop. “Get me up on here so I can clean that paint off you.”

Marvus quirked a brow at your command, yet obliged you all the same, sitting you down before him and patiently letting you run the wet cloth along his face. You dug your fingers into his mussed up hair to keep it out of the way, focusing diligently on your task while Marvus watched you with amusement.

The paint gradually gave way to neutral gray, and even his eyebrows darkened to their natural black color. You finished off your task with one last swipe along the long, graceful arch of his nose, silently admiring how long his lashes appeared while he kept his eyes closed.

You realized you were staring, much to your embarrassment.

“All done,” you weakly said, tossing the dirtied cloth into the sink, scooting closer to the edge of the countertop in preparation for absconding from this intimate proximity, until you noticed the dark circles under his eyes. You reached out to run a thumb along the evidence of his exhaustion. “Look at this … don’t tell me you’re overworking yourself."

A flash of hesitation flashed across his face. Yet it was gone as quick as it had appeared, replaced with his normal easygoing demeanor. He gently grasped your wrist and moved your questing touch away. “Ain’t nethin to worry bout,” he said, pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

“Liar,” you asserted, stubbornly glaring at him. “I got rid of the facepaint, and yet it seems you’re still hiding behind a mask. You’re lying, and I know it.”

Yet again you managed to shock him into a state of silence, his eyes wide and focused on you during your short tirade. “Damn mama u rly gunna roast me like that?”

“Damn straight.” You took back your hand and crossed your arms, entirely unintimidated by how much larger than you he still was, his arms on either side of you as he leaned over you. “If that’s what it takes to get some honesty out of you.”

“Whoaaa, i don’t remember the last time sumone talked to me this way. 'Specially not a lowblood.” His hands found their way to your hips, and he grinned at you with hooded eyes. “Dat shit b hot, like some kinda pale porn feelz jam. U gettin freaky w me rite now, babe?”

You covered your eyes momentarily and sighed. “No, Marvus. This isn’t a solicitation.”

“Aww :o( “

“Look, all I’m saying is, I notice these things about you. And if there’s no one around to tell you to take better care of yourself, then it may as well be me.”

“Oooh? ;o) “

”Not pale porn.”

“Now who b lyin … “

You were starting to feel a blush bloom across your cheeks. “What did I say about teasing me?” you murmured, bashfully looking away while he pulled you closer to him. With his handsome sculpted body in sight, you were quickly reminded that a platonic relationship with Marvus was out of the question. “Besides,” you continued, sliding your hands up the wide expanse of his chest towards his neck to tilt his face towards you. “ — would a moirail do this?”

You brought him down to your level and planted your lips on his, coaxing his mouth open with a teasing lick as he hummed into the kiss. He effortlessly gathered you in his arms while you made out and brought you both under the running shower spray, reluctantly letting you break off the kiss when you reminded him that you were still filthy.

Everything had been chaste enough, for the first few minutes. You managed to get your hair rinsed and pointedly avoided staring at Marvus’s gorgeous body. The same could not be said for him, however. It all started with his hip bumping against yours as he reached over to grab a bottle, and an offer to help you wash off with something that looked like a mix of a giant beetle and a loofa.

Innocent touches soon led to full-blown groping — you just knew Marvus wouldn’t be able to resist — and eventually you found yourself pressed up against the shower wall with his bulge pumping slowly into your sensitive cunt, overstimulated and yet still craving more of him.

By the time you were clean and swaying on your feet like a sleep-deprived child, Marvus had insisted you stay for the night — or rather, the day — and you couldn’t find the energy to fight him on his impeccable hospitality. So you thanked him with a tired smile and huddled up in the corner of the couch, adorned with a fluffy towel and ready to pass out the moment your head hit the cushion. But Marvus crouched down in front of you with a stupefied expression, and asked, "The fxxk ya doin, baby?”

“Um … going to sleep?”

He blinked at you, still not understanding. “Iz dis a human thang? Sleepin on a couch?”

“Technically we sleep on beds — not that you’d know what that is.”

“Well i ain’t got any o that shiz but i got a slammin cocoon so.” You let out a startled yelp as he scooped you up in his arms. “U coming w me, lil mama.”

And that was how you ended up falling asleep atop Marvus’s very inviting bosom, smiling contently as the sopor slime soothed your aches away.

Marvus had a busy schedule the following day, so unfortunately he was gone by the time you woke up. You blearily rubbed your eyes and stretched, letting loose all the tension in your frame as you looked out to see the sun’s last rays disappearing behind the horizon. Seems like he really doesn’t get that much rest if leaving before sundown was a regular thing for him.

You took a quick moment to freshen up in the bathroom, and after one final glance at the painting tainted with Marvus’s genetic material, you began lazily scooping up your scattered clothing and redressed. The weight of your palmhusk stashed away in a discrete pocket reminded you to check your messages, and sure enough, you had quite a few of them.

Stelsa had texted you about her safe return last night as promised, Chixie hit you up with an invite to a show later, and Marvus sent his apologies for not being able to stick around.

— couldn’t wake u up cuz u were lookin too cute but there’s food downstairs if u want

— n i got a guy parked outside to take u anywhere

— b seein u sumtime soon bby thx fr the amazing time ;o)

You smiled shyly to yourself, hoping that he truly wanted to see you again.

Your good mood promptly disappeared when you realized you had several texts and missed calls from Tagora. You knew exactly what he wanted from you, and you were too hungry to deal with it right now.

Stashing away your palmhusk for later, you made your way downstairs and spent a few minutes looking around the spacious floor for the kitchen. The clicks of your heels echoed through the hallway as you wandered, glancing into spare rooms and admiring the beautiful graffiti decorating the walls.

One particular room caught your eye — a shimmer of aquamarine blue in your periphery steered you inside, and you were met with a gigantic in-ground pool that curved beyond a translucent wall fixture, forming a long U-shape. To the right was a spectacular view of what you believed to be a portion of the backyard deck, the entire wall replaced with floor-to-ceiling window panes. The moonlight from outside filtered into the room, illuminating the glistening pool water to an ethereal color.

It was stunning, to say the least. You kneeled at the edge of the pool and gently dipped your fingertips into the water. The temperature was lukewarm and pleasant, stirring up the urge to take a swim. Maybe you could coerce Marvus the next time you visited his hive.

As you pondered on the future, something seemed to bump against your fingertips. You furrowed your brow and felt around for the obstruction, feeling something smooth and uniform taking shape.

The strange object pushed gently against your touch, moving higher and higher until something white emerged from the water. You quickly retracted your hand and leaned over to get a closer look —

And the water bursted upward like a geyser, splashing you as you fell back onto your ass with an indignant shriek. You protected your face with your hands and curled inward, fearing what horrors you managed to rile up in the depths of this pool.

A loud chitter soon followed, and when you lowered your shaking hands, you were suddenly face to face with a white dolphin, its razor sharp teeth on display as its gaping maw puffed air inches away from you.

You let loose a scream and scuttled backwards from the creature, losing your grip on the wet floor and careening onto your side.

The dolphin chirped at you and tilted its head as you came down from your panicked breathing. You stared back at it, wide-eyed and frozen in fear, until you realized that the beast was actually smiling at you, bobbing innocently in the water and patiently waiting for your next move.

Mirthful Messiahs, this was Marvus’s lusus!

You clambered onto hands and knees and crawled back to the dolphin, hoping you looked every bit as pathetic as you felt. “Oh my gosh that was so rude of me I’m so sorry! It’s so nice to meet you my name is — “

You were cut off by a jovial chirp, and the lusus bumped his snout on your forehead. Thank goodness, he didn’t appear to be as horrid as Zebruh’s custodian. Judging by how kind Marvus was, you always assumed his lusus would have led by example. You giggled and carefully petted his head.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you — “ The dolphin let loose a string of eek eek eek’s and shook his head. “ — no, please, don’t be sorry, I reacted like an idiot. I’m a friend of Marvus’s, by the way! Maybe he told you already?”

“Eek eek! Eeeee!” Another nose bump, followed by a nuzzle to your cheek.

You cupped your cheek and blushed. “I’ll take that as a good sign … “ Your conversation was cut short by a low grumbling, and you peevishly smiled. “Do you mind pointing me to the kitchen? I accidentally wandered in here because I got lost.”

The lusus nodded, and instead of tipping his head toward a direction, he slowly emerged from the water’s depths. You stood up and backed away to give him some room, and you nearly gasped at how enormous he was. Sure enough, the lusus was a dolphin, and yet he sported a pair of dinosaur-like back legs that allowed him to stand upright, trailing his tail behind him as he offered a flipper to you.

You smiled gratefully and held onto the proffered flipper as the lusus led you out of the room, stopping briefly for a moment so he could show you were the spare towels were stored away. You grabbed one on the way out and wiped yourself down as you let him guide you, eyeing the trail of water the lusus left in his wake and wondered if it was okay to leave it all over the floor like that.

The kitchen was as grand as the rest of the hive, a circular space with a towering ceiling from which hung a massive chandelier, its multicolored crystalline lights casting rainbow beams everywhere they could. Everything was as large as Marvus said it would be, but thankfully his lusus caught on to your short stature, and took over the task of getting you well-fed. Within minutes you had a whole five course meal set out in front of you at the table, and you couldn’t stop thanking the kind dolphin with tears in your eyes before he ruffled your hair with a flipper and trilled a happy tune.

When was the last time you had this much food at your disposal? Your heart swelled with love for your generous friends as you stuffed your face with questionable meats, deciding that the delicious taste outweighed their strange appearance. The lusus kept you company all the while, sitting across the table from you and chowing down on some sort of large aquatic animal laid out on a giant dish.

You spent your breakfast in amicable discussion, regaling him with tales of your adventures, your worries about the future, and your ever-growing homesickness. You don’t know why, but you felt like you could trust this dolphin with anything. In turn, he eek'd up a storm of stories about Marvus as a wiggler, and how good of a child he had been. You realized, then, how suitable a dolphin was for Marvus — his lusus chirped with as much flare and gusto as the showman, waving his flippers around and smiling all the while. Two whimsical yet powerful individuals. A match made in heaven.

Unfortunately, the time to leave had come. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome.

Marvus’s lusus seemed disappointed by your announcement, and you imagined he might feel lonely in this mansion all by himself, considering how often Marvus had to go on tour or do other work-related things. You helped the dolphin place the empty dishes by the sink and hugged him tight, marveling at how he was just as cold to the touch as Marvus was.

“I promise I’ll come visit you the next time Marvus invites me over,” you murmured into his soft belly, and you were rewarded with a pat to your head. The palmhusk vibrated in your pocket, startling you out of your hazy comfort and reminding you that you had a certain tealblood to attend to.

As the lusus waddled you over to the front door, you looked up at him and noted how sad and quiet he had gotten. “Hey,” you called out, lightly tugging on his flipper. “Why don’t we take a picture together to show Marvus we met?”

Your idea was met with joyous chirps, and as the lusus crouched down to your level, you snapped a ridiculous amount of selfies from all angles, choosing one where you were both sticking out your tongues. You sent it to Marvus and typed:

— i met your lusus, he’s so cute!!

— and he told me to tell you he says hi.

— so in his own words, i say to you, “eek eek!"

You paused and quickly added:

— i had a wonderful time last night too.

And left it at that, because as much as you wanted to pour your heart and thank him for being so selfless and understanding in light of your self-consciousness, you did not want to come off as desperate. Sometimes it had to be like that. Even with him.

You were settled in inside a cab as you drove straight for Tagora’s hive, scrolling through the texts he had sent you with increasing anxiety.

— Please let me know how your search goes, I’m very eager to move this case along.

— Have you found any dirt on a certain someone yet?

— Still waiting.

Those were sent last night. The more recent ones were more concerning.

— Seeing as you are not responding to me, I’m going to take that as a no.

— You disappoint me, human. Expect an exorbitant fee added to your balance for every minute you are late in texting me.

Shit. Tagora was always serious about those pesky charges. You fired off a quick ’I’m on my way!’ and spent the whole ride looking at troll memes to lighten up your mood. Tagora may be pissed at you right now, but not for long. He could never stay mad at you.

That thought replayed in your mind as you meandered up his front lawn, trying to come up with a million excuses for your tardy end of the deal. At least you managed to protect the clothes he bought you. Maybe that would cheer him up a bit.

You stared at the door and counted to ten before knocking.

Tagora opened the door just a crack, peering at you through the narrow opening. You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. You’re going to be upset — “ The door was swinging shut. You hastily shoved your foot through the threshold and fought to keep it open. “ — but I promise I can still make it all worth your while!”

He paused for a moment and leered at you. “How so?”

“ … gossip?”

Surprisingly, it worked. The door opened a little, and as Tagora finally got a good look at you, his peeved expression fell away to one of shock and slight revulsion, perhaps even a hint of concern. “Have you even looked at yourself today? Did you get mauled by a purrbeast?”

You smiled sheepishly and absentmindedly rubbed at a love bite on your neck. “More like I got pailed senseless by a purpleblood.”

”What? And you’re still alive?”

A chatty, questioning Tagora was a good sign. You slipped past him and wandered inside, waving at his lusus in greeting as you toed off your shoes. “This particular highblood is a good friend of mine. I’m sure you remember who he is, considering I begged you to blackmail whoever uploaded that video of him hand feeding me … “

“You pailed with Marvus Xoloto?” Tagora whirled you around and grabbed you by the shoulders, bringing his face inches away from yours. “Did you mention me?” he excitedly asked.

“In what possible context could I bring you up while getting laid? ’Oh Marvus that feels so good, by the way I happen to know a fantastic lawyer —'"

“Uuugh!” He lightly pushed you away and rolled his eyes, running a hand through his impeccable hair. “You’ll pay for giving me that horrible mental image. And furthermore, you are so damn useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you grumbled, making your way to the couch and sagging down onto it. Tagora’s lusus instantly materialized in your lap, rolling over to expose his tummy while you scratched it. “My night took a turn for the worst during the party, and after all was said and done I was feeling so shitty that I needed a distraction. I just didn’t have it in me to sleuth around for you, I’m sorry.”

Tagora eyed you quietly as though in deliberation. Maybe you looked tired and mopey, because his expression softened marginally. “Are you.” He paused. “Are you hungry?” You shook your head. “Wait here then.”

You watched him curiously while he wandered away to the bathroom. His lusus chuffed at you when you forgot to keep scratching behind his ear. “Soooorry,” you whispered to the ferret, and you were rewarded with a nuzzle to your face as he rearranged himself like a flailing noodle.

Tagora returned with a tube of neon green paste — it was a familiar sight to you by now, considering how often you were getting injured. He sat beside you and shooed his lusus away, motioning for you to turn to him. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered, squirting a dollop of paste on his hand and massaging the medicine into the bruises along your neck and shoulders.

“Well,” you said with a sigh, tilting your head to let Tagora work his magic. “I had the misfortune of stumbling upon Lanque. Or rather, he made the effort to confront me, and made me look like a fool by bringing up personal bullshit.”

“Ah, that cretin. I hope you told him off properly this time.”

“I tried … but it still sucked to have my insecurities thrown back at me out of nowhere.”

Tagora huffed. “At least you’re not the one crashing parties in search of cheap thrills. Show me where else you’re bruised.” You lifted the hem of your dress and up over your hip to reveal fingerprint shaped marks along your outer thighs. You tried your best to keep your private area covered, wishing you still had your underwear. Tagora seemed to not mind, working with detached efficiency. “And. You know. You’re the one who got lucky in the end. Although judging by how fucked up you look, ‘lucky’ is pretty subjective. Was this a pitch romp?”

“Nope, it was really sweet and fun and a hell of a lot more intimate than I expected,” you gushed, blushing at the memory. “But let’s not get side-tracked. I didn’t even tell you the worst part the night!”

“There’s more?”

“Unfortunately. So, Remele apparently had the wonderful idea of painting me as the main subject, and she auctioned it off to the highest bidder. Which thankfully turned out to be Marvus, and I’m pretty sure he did it just to spare me the embarrassment. It was so vulgar, Tagora! Like, she made me naked and cowering in an alleyway and — and covered in troll blood because she was recreating that time we got into trouble with a purpleblood and — “

Fuck. Tagora didn’t know about your and Remele’s connection to that murder. And you knew he tracked it with fervor when news first hit, trying to tie it to her earlier event.

As if on cue, his eyes widened in excitement, pupils narrowing like a predator honing in on its prey. “Wait, wait. First of all, why didn’t you tell me you were involved in such a high-profile case? And how could that conniving bitch know enough about the crime scene to portray it in such an accurate light?”

“I — um … I can’t tell you!”

“Oh you absolutely will. I think this will be more than sufficient to cover for your failure last night."

You groaned and dug your hands into your hair. “You don’t love me, Gor-Gor! You just love my drama. Is that all I am to you?” Tagora reeled back, biting his lower lip. "Just a — an associate who does dirty work for you? A henchman? A dumb, worthless human? A — “

Your freak-out was cut short when a hand gently yet firmly slapped itself onto your cheek.

You blinked and looked at Tagora. He stared right back, looking equal parts shocked and panicked. His hand was slightly cold, yet ridiculously soft.

“Oh my gods are you shooshpapping me — “

”No!” Tagora wrenched his hand away as though he had been burned. "This is strictly a platonic show of camaraderie, as evidenced by your updated fee charge right here — “ He had the nerve to pull up some sort of app on his palmhusk that tracked your debt, pointing at an absurdly high number.

You bemusedly glanced at the screen as he held it right up to your face before moving his hand out of the way. “Does that mean you’d drop your fees for a moirail?”

“I would consider it a fair trade-off in light of their services towards my mental wellbeing.”

“Hmmm.” You did have a lot of debt accrued … and you were technically just inadvertently proposed to. "Well lucky for you, you have just the right candidate for obsessing over your mental wellbeing right in front of you!”

Tagora blushed a vibrant teal and jerked away from you, stammering several times as he tried to unsuccessfully offer a rebuttal. “Th — that’s — you can’t just say that, you uncultured creature! Don’t you have any tact? Any sense of romance?”

“What do you want me to do, serenade you? Build you a nest out of the finest quality of ablution robes and drown you in expensive chocolates for luxurious feels jam sessions?”

“You are ridiculous.” He paused. “As if you could even afford any of that.”

“Are you seriously considering what I just said?"

“I never said that! The absence of evidence is not evidence in of itself!”

"What does that even mean?”

“I swear I don’t even know why I put up with you — “

“Because I’m so cute and pitiable.”

“Well, you’ve certainly got parts of that right,” he said, turning away from you in a valiant attempt to hide his blush. “You’re so pathetic it’s practically obscene. Indecent, even.”

“Is that some backhanded way of saying I’m quadrant material?”

“This conversation is over.” Excellent, hopefully he forgot about Remele. “And don’t think I’m letting that whole Remele thing go so easily.” Damn it. “But you’re clearly not in your right mind to continue that discussion, so we’ll talk about it later."

“You are so benevolent, Gor-Gor.”

“Yes, I am,” he said with a grin. The majority of your bruises had been dealt with by now, so Tagora screwed the cap back onto the tube of paste and stood up to put the medicine away.

“Tagora?” He turned to look at you with a quirked brow. “Thank you.”

He smiled lightly and nodded before going on his way. His lusus was back in your lap in no time, slipping into your waiting arms with a delighted meep. You pulled out your palmhusk and checked if you received any new messages, and sure enough, Marvus had responded to your earlier texts.

— o shit yo pops lookin happy af

— u gonna have to b comin over to keep him company now

— and maybe me 2 ;o)

You giggled and gripped your palmhusk a little tighter between both hands. Tagora glanced back at you for a split second, his smile mirroring your own.

#homestuck #friendsim #hiveswap #sfw #ish #fanfic #gods and monsters #marvus xoloto #tagora gorjek #marvus/reader #marvus x reader #tagora/reader #tagora x reader #moirails 4 life #matesprits 4 life #and the dumb binches dont even know it yet

31 notes · View notes

nyoschief · 6 years

Note

Can you share with us a WIP of your writing? Or maybe a little tease of it? Thank you! ^w^

sURE????

Rating: MatureContent: Cow Chop, Sugar Pine 7Pairings: Brett & Lindsey, (one-sided)Alfredo/AutumnCharacters: Brett(CC), Lindsey(CC), Jeremy(SP7), Autumn(SP7), Alfredo(SP7)Tags: 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, War, Werewolves, Crime, (sorta) Origins StoryWarnings: Cat Calling, Anger Issues, Unwanted Sexual Advances, Minor Character Death, Guns, Past Forced Tattooing, Gore, Mentions of Dog Fights, Werewolf Genocide, AlfredoWords: 11,282

“Sorry it took so long to meet you again.”“I mean, no rush, I’m just kind of going screwy, you know, the usual.”“Glad I’m not the only one.”

“Found her half crazy without a pack. I’m teaching her to control herself during the full moon but she likes being by herself mostly.”“How old was she?”“Barely fourteen, last year, she’s still new.”“I can teach her.”“No, sorry, but we’ve bonded.”“Pack, huh? Don’t lose it.”

“Papers,” the woman demands, staring up at him blankly. Brett hands them to her, eyes drifting over to the man being led down the hallway, his eyes glancing backwards at Brett, nostrils flaring. He can’t tell if the man’s just curious or wants to fight him, not at this distance, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to dwell on that when his papers are handed back. “To the left, down the hall, room number forty seven.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says with a nod and turns on his heels. Brett sniffs at the air as he goes and pauses as an unfamiliar man steps into the hallway, freezing at the same time Brett does. After a quick glance at each other, Brett keeps going, walks right past him, and ignores the way the man shrinks away and hurries in the opposite direction. He hates the smell here, chemicals and bleach, clogs up his nose and makes his head start pounding.

Even so, he keeps his head up and gives the designated room a rap on the door. It opens immediately and he’s met with a smiling face.

She opens her mouth only to freeze. Her smile drops the moment she inhales, eyes wide. Brett can only quirk an eyebrow and shoot a glance over her shoulder.

The doctor smiles at him and says, “Come in, come in, please, sit on the cot.” Brett hesitates, even after the nurse steps aside, hands curling against her chest, covering the red cross emblem. He steps forward and puts on a grin as he does as requested, sitting down on the foam bed. “This is nothing to worry about, just a test to make sure you’re hard-boiled! Don’t want you dropping like a fly on the front line, do we?”

“Course not,” Brett responds with ease. The door clicks shut and he watches as the woman keeps her head down, hurrying over to the small cart against the wall. Brett smiles at the man when he approaches, offering his left arm when it’s requested. “I can assure you, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“And how! But the tests will tell me for certain,” he responds, a small bottle in his hand. He unscrews the cap and squeezes the small pipette on the top. Movement over the doctor’s shoulder catches Brett’s eyes and he looks up in time to see the nurse who stares right at him and bites down hard on a pencil. She stops and looks back at him, waiting for a response.

…What?

Fire flares on his forearm. Brett subdues a flinch and looks down to see the droplet of clear fluid sitting on his skin. It singes, burning at his skin, making it turn red. He clears his throat, controls the waver in it, and asks, “What’s this?”

The doctor’s back is turned to him and he replaces the bottle in the cart. “Oh, just a test to see if you have any skin allergies.”

The nurse hurries over and quickly wipes off the droplet with her sleeve. Brett grunts softly, the smear stinging even more. She just slaps a wet cloth over his arm, cleaning it up entirely. He hisses under his breath so the human can’t hear, “What are you doing?”

“Saving your life,” she responds. His skin is still red and Brett can smell her fear, acrid and sour, stinging his nose to breathe in. With a quick glance at the doctor’s back, the woman withdraws a small tube from her pocket and puts a dollop of the cream on the area. Rubs it in with haste.

“Washburn, results?” the doctor asks, finally turning around. The woman pauses and pretends to inspect Brett’s arm, leaning down to squint at it. The redness has already started to fade.

“No reaction. I think I may have accidentally scratched him with my nail, but nothing to do with the test, Doctor Frederick.”

Brett remains quiet, even as Doctor Frederick sighs and wanders closer. “Dumb Dora, is nobody home? Couldn’t have gotten in with the ANC instead of the Red Cross?”

“My apologies, Doctor,” she responds on automatic, stepping to the side to allow her superior to inspect Brett’s skin. He holds his arm up for a closer look and the doctor squints through his spectacles.

After a moment’s deliberation, he gives a firm nod and retrieves a piece of paper from his desk. The nurse peers at the paper and lets slip a sigh, shoulders dropping, patting her chest in relief. Fountain pen in hand, Frederick waves Brett over and says, “Full name, please.”

“Brett Hundley, Two Ts, H-U-N, D-L-E-Y.” The doctor scrawls the name on the paper and gives a nod. He stamps it, signs, blows on the drying ink, and hands it over to Brett. “Is this all?”

“Yes, that’s all, you’re free to go. You’re doing a great thing here, Hundley, make our country proud. Close the door when you blow.” Brett can only nod at the man and turn to leave. He catches sight of the label of the bottle the man had used liquid from, reads ‘wolfsb-’ oh.

Before he can exit the room, Brett whispers to the nurse, “Thank you.”

He thinks he hears her say, “I’m sorry,” right before he shuts the door behind himself

He picks up the Red Cross brochure and pockets it, both dread and anticipation bubbling inside his stomach as he heads home to tell Mother of his acceptance into the war.

He celebrates onboard the boat on their way back home. Brett can barely feel the rolling of the waves as he drinks his beer, laughter bubbling all around. Maxi gives him a wicked grin and starts flicking bottle caps at him, sniggering the entire time. He has a very tired Frank curled up against his side, purring and kneading at his jacket, even as Harley and Oscar bicker on the other side of the table. They’re the only ones left in the bar at this stage, even the bartender has cut them off from alcohol and called it a night. They still have four or five bottles left, enough for another hour, especially with how little Oscar and Harley are drinking between their banter.

Maxi flicks a cap, it hits him right beneath his eye, Brett grabs him and yanks him into a headlock. Frank yelps as he’s jostled awake, almost falling to the floor. Maxi begins struggling and Brett lets him for a few moments before releasing him. Again, Frank startles away before Brett could squish him as he’s shoved onto his back, Maxi grinning above him, eyes flashing golden and a laugh on his breath.

The doors slam open, someone yells, “GET DOWN!” and another person starts shooting. Maxi falls first, screaming and clutching at his shoulder. Brett rolls and drops to the floor underneath the table in time to see Oscar shoving himself in front of Harley. Frank starts running, feet pounding on metal, and immediately gets gunned down.

Brett doesn’t dare move, knows when he’s outgunned, ears ringing with gunshots, and waits until Harley ceases screaming, his body lying still, blood pooled around him and half his skull shattered.

Boots walk over and stop right in front of the table. An unfamiliar man crouches down in front of him, clean-shaven and a head of black hair. Brett ducks away from him and the man squints before saying, “Brett Hundley?”

He nods and responds, “Yes, Sir.”

“Did these monsters attack you?”

Monsters.

Brett looks over and spots Oscar’s ears out, claws ready for a fight that he never got the chance to end. Brett’s eyes shoot back to the man and he asks, “What are they?”

“They’re dead now.” Liar. They’re not dead, and even if they are dead right now, still and no longer breathing, they’d come back later. “Were you bitten?”

“No, they…” Brett looks over at Maxi’s body and gestures with a tilt of his head. “He grabbed me and pinned me, I couldn’t- he was so strong… what are they?”

“Don’t worry, we will handle this,” the man says again, holding a hand out. Brett takes it and slides out from under the table.

“I thought they were my friends…”

The man snorts and pats his shoulder, squeezing and trying to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you anymore. You’re almost home, soldier, are you not excited to see your family again?”

“Of course, of course… I? I’m not supposed to mention this to anyone, am I?”

“You’re smart. Yes, mention this to no one, not even your parents or wife.” Nonexistent wife.

Brett is quick to nod, still glancing over the dead bodies. He hopes he’s convincing enough, hopes he can claim the way his hands are shaking is from fear rather than rage. He receives a couple sympathetic looks from the soldiers when he shuffles past them, still holding their smoking guns and staring at the temporary corpses lying on the floor.

Is this all the government wanted from his kind? To fight in some war and then, when they return, capture them and do god knows what? Brett grimaces and heads directly towards his cabin, now reduced from five occupants to one.

He raises his voice and turns on her. She flinches. She cowers. Brett immediately withdraws, staring at her as she slowly lowers her arms from a defensive position. He runs fingers through his hair, pushing ears down against his skull until his claws recede.

With a steady inhale, Brett says in a level tone, “I am never going to hurt you.”

It hurts when she doesn’t respond, simply nods and turns around to walk away.

It feels like being shot, something he’s familiar with, when she hesitates by her room and looks back at him, only to say, “I guess some things are genetic.” Brett just stares as she closes the door and leaves him in the living room, standing in his own shame and regret. He’s tempted to go after her, slam the door open and say how dare you speak to me like that-

He immediately shakes the thought from his head, turns on his heels, grabs his coat, and leaves the house. Petrichor fills Brett’s nose as he walks across the cobblestone, shoulders up, ignoring the bright glow of the moon.

Right, the moon. Full moon tomorrow, that’s probably why he’s in such a horrible mood. Nothing a walk can’t fix. He’s been itching to shift for the past week and makes a beeline for the outskirts of town, brushing past the late-night strollers as he goes.

When Brett returns, it’s silent. Nothing unusual, but he can’t hear Mother’s snores. There’s picture frames missing from the shelves, the linen on the couch gone, things shuffled just the slightest bit.

“Mother?” he calls, walking over to her door. He knocks on it first, just in case she’s indecent, but opens it when he receives no reply.

Her coat no longer hangs beside the bed, purse missing, her knitting bundled up into a bag and tucked under the desk. Her throw no longer covers the bed, shoes missing from the closet, clothes gone from her drawers.

She left.

Brett inhales through his nose slowly.

He slams his fist through the door.

He pulls back with a wince, splinters sticking out of his knuckles, blood beading along his fingers and the back of his hand. The bed goes next, mattress tossed against the cupboards as they rattle, the metal frame snapping with a twang when he stomps on it.

Brett only leaves her room when every piece of furniture in there is cracked, broken, warped, twisted. He picks up a beer and gets two sips into it before putting it back in the refrigerator. It’s not that he’s glad she’s gone, it’s not that he’s sad she left, he’s just… why? He thought it’d be better with Father gone.

He doesn’t sleep.

It’s only when the sun breaks that he goes back to Mother’s room and tries to fix the damage he wrought.

Not that it makes a difference.

He’s going crazy.

Brett isn’t blind.

If anything, he’s self-aware.

It’s why when he realises he’s growling at the paperboy, he stops and retreats with a half-assed apology. Tries to remember all the lessons Mother taught him. His brain starts hollering when he thinks pack. But… there aren’t any other werewolves left, not here at least. The enlisters made sure of that.

Wait.

Brett hurries to the study, shifting through the papers on his desk. Sure enough, he finds the brochure he picked up on the day he enlisted for the war. The Red Cross. Maybe that nurse is still alive. She snuck right under their noses; no one bothered to check if the nurses were werewolves. Maybe she’s still smart.

Brett’s mostly just surprised by how simple it is; he shows up at the hospital and hands the receptionist the brochure, says he’s looking for an old friend, Washburn. The woman smiles at him, says she began working at the hospital after the war ended, and gives him her address.

He almost backs out, especially when it starts raining. She will remember him, perfect Anthirio memory, but she might just be creeped out by him tracking her down, and showing up on her doorstep. Maybe scream Murder! and slam the door on him.

He scares people, it’s just what he does.

He runs through the rain, head down, remembers the street names and counts the numbers on the houses until he stops at a small townhouse. Double checks the address, triple checks the number as the rain gets heavier, drenching his hair and the collar of his shirt. He hovers for a moment before he sucks in a breath and raps on the door.

Cutlery clatters from within and he hears the squeaking of floorboards underneath footsteps until the door unlocks and opens a fraction.

The nurse sticks her head out, unaged and confused.

Then she seems to register his face, takes a sniff at the air, and her face lights up with a grin.

Brett barely has time to brace himself before she launches, arms wrapping around him, heedless of his drenched clothes and the rain pouring down on them. He grabs her before she can slip, frowning and trying to think of what to say. He goes silent when she turns and buries her face in his chest, breathing. Her feet barely touch the ground but she doesn’t let him go, fingers clenched into his leather trench coat.

Brett doesn’t move until he hears a faint sob on her breath. He turns his head down, resting his nose against messy brown hair, and frowns at the bittersweet smell coming off of her, sad and relieved at the same time.

“Uhm,” he begins. It seems to startle her out of it as she quickly takes a step back under shelter and looks up at him. He can tell it’s not the rain that made her face wet as she wipes her cheeks clean.

“Ah, sorry, uhm, Mr. Hundley, I just… I’m so happy to see someone else.” So it’s true; the city has been effectively eradicated of Anthirios. Something on his face drops and the woman mirrors it. “Is your family okay?” she asks quietly.

“No family anymore, it’s just me.”

He looks away, doesn’t want to be given her sympathy, but she just lets out a choked up laugh and says, “It’s just me too.” Brett looks back at the woman, both eyebrows up. “I was just… I kept looking at the newspaper, hoping for something. We had another at the hospital a few months ago, but as soon as his name was recorded, some officials came in and took him away. We were being hunted and… and I couldn’t find anyone else. But, you’re… you’re Genetic?” Brett gives a slow nod and sees her face light up with a grin. “Ducky! Then, we’re not extinct yet.”

“Yeah, not yet,” he agrees, shoulders sagging. He bows his head and pushes his hair back when it tries to get into his eyes.

Washburn seems to startle and takes a quick step back into the house, holding the door open and gesturing at him as she says, “You wanna come in?”

Brett responds, “I could be a killer.” Immediately regrets it; he can’t handle the only other Anthirio in the city rejecting him.

The woman just laughs at him and shakes her head. “I’ll take my chances.” He admires her bravery and kindness, smiles and keeps his head down when he steps inside and removes his coat. She takes it from him and hangs it up, saying he can leave his shoes at the door. Brett hesitates before doing as suggested, closing and locking the oak door behind himself.

He finds her sitting beside the fireplace, setting down a second cup on the end table as she asks, “Tea?”

He drops into the seat adjacent to her and says, “Please.” He hesitates before letting his ears out, shaking his head to try and get the water off. She does the same, ears blending with her hair as she ruffles her skirt to make room for her tail. “So, you know my name, what’s yours?” he questions, gratefully accepting the cup of tea as she hands it to him.

“Oh, sorry, Lindsey Washburn.”

“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Lindsey,” he announces and offers his free hand. Lindsey takes it with a grin, watches as Brett leans forward to kiss the top of her hand, and he spots the sway of her skirt as he releases his grip. “Sorry it took so long to meet you again.”

“I mean, no rush, I’m just kind of going screwy, you know, the usual.”

“Glad I’m not the only one.”

“You won’t be the only one from now on,” she says with a grin, cradling her teacup in hand.

Brett takes a second to think that over before he nods and smiles back at her. “Yeah, guess so.”

Before he leaves, he yanks one of the cotton bracelets from his wrist and hands it over to Lindsey. She blinks, eyebrows up, before smiling appreciatively. The smile drops a second later as she states, “Oh no, I don’t have any scent markers to give you, I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright, as long as you can find me, it’s fine.”

She immediately smiles again and bids him goodnight.

Brett laughs at the look of surprise and pure glee that overcomes Lindsey’s face when she sees him waiting at the hospital entrance. She picks up her pace, satchel against her hip, and wraps arms around his middle. He leans in to nose against her temple, ignoring the sounds of people rushing around nearby, just grateful to have someone else with him. A week since they reconnected and she’s still the same bubbly woman since day one, a soft whine in her exhale before she bounces back with that bright smile on her face.

“So, are you walking me home?”

“That was the plan, hope you don’t have any other suitors planning on doing so.”

“Oh, you my suitor now, big timer?” she asks. When Brett looks at her, she sticks her tongue out and starts walking down the street, glancing backwards to make sure he follows. He keeps pace with her and holds out a newspaper. “What’s this?”

“Page three, left column,” he says, pinching onto her coat and tugging her out of the way of a coach. Lindsey flips through the pages as Brett keeps talking. “I’ll bet you three dollars that’s an Anthirio.”

She bumps into his side with a lighthearted laugh. “Anthirio, ooh, so formal.”

“Well, not everyone is a Werewolf, so it’s, you know, nicer to use the proper terminology rather than the more widespread one.” Lindsey just nods her head and hums, her pace slowing as she reads the newspaper. She comes to a stop a few stores down and Brett guides her out of the way of oncoming pedestrians. “They’re all losing their minds,” Brett confirms when she looks up at him with wide eyes, “no pack, no family, nothing. They’ve gone screwy and gotten caught.”

“Well, I mean, we can try to find them, can’t we?”

Brett scoffs and snaps, “You think I haven’t been trying?”

Lindsey’s eyebrows jump. “Wow, I mean, sure, but no need to get in a lather ‘bout it.”

“I-” He bites down on his retort and simply huffs in response.

It melts when Lindsey grins at him and says, “Don’t get all mad, just smile and laugh it off.”

“That what you do?”

“Yep, it works for me.” Brett exhales through his nose but gives a nod. “Have you checked the eastern side of the city? I know my cousins and aunt blew that way when the war first began.”

“I have. I’ve ankled up and down every street, sniffing at every door, and found nothing.” She hums again and hands the newspaper back to him. He slips it into his coat and adds on, “I was too scared to try howling, hunters might-”

“Ey! Bearcat!” Lindsey stiffens, the smile melting from her face as a trio of boys dart out of a sidestreet, weaving between other people to get closer. Brett squints as Lindsey ignores them until one skips around in front of her, slowing her down. “Oh Nurse Washburn, I think I got a cut on my lip, how ‘bout some cash?”

“You aren’t showing off your gams today?” She bats at the hand that tries to lift her lengthy dress. The man just laughs. “Come on, you’re a sheba, not a bluenose.”

His friend has the audacity to reach out for her arm only for Lindsey to wave her hand sharply and turn her head away. “Bank’s closed, so beat it, you dewdroppers.”

Brett remains quiet as she keeps her face blank and tries to go around them. She’s immediately cut off with outstretched arms as the shortest of the three leans in close and says, “Don’t be like that, a choice bit of calico like you needs a someone to protect her, yeah?”

Brett is about ready to shove them away when Lindsey just smiles and says, “You’re right, a doll such as myself does need a man to protect me.” She immediately links her arm with Brett’s, presses up against his side, and says, “Sorry, but it isn’t any of you lot. Now go chase yourself before my bimbo beats you up.”

Their attention shifts to Brett as he rests his hand over the top of Lindsey’s and starts leading her down the street. He gets a couple paces away before the cockier of the lot grabs him by the sleeve and tugs. “Who do you think you are, huh? Baby grand?”

Brett turns around slowly, keeps his head high, and holds out his right hand. “Brett Hundley. 39th Infantry Regiment, 4th Division, 7th Brigade, Fighting Falcons. I served on the front lines in France. Aisne-Marne, St. Mihiel, Meuse-Argonne, Champagne nineteen eighteen, Lorraine nineteen eighteen.” He can’t help but smirk at the way the boy hesitates when he accepts Brett’s handshake. He makes sure to squeeze that little bit harder than necessary as he leers and says, “We don’t have beef, do we? Because I’m a vegetarian and I’d hate to cast a kitten because you got in a lather. We both know who’d win that fight.”

“Of course, Sir,” he responds quickly, gaze lowered to stare at his shirt. With a nod and glance at the other two boys, hovering at a safe distance, Brett grins and pats Lindsey’s hand again.

“Keep out of trouble then. Go make whoopee elsewhere.” That said, he turns and resumes leading Lindsey back home, listening intently as the boys hoof it, hissing at each other, off to harass some other lady. Brett quickly looks towards Lindsey but she just grins at him. “You okay?”

“Just Jake,” she laughs, bumping against his side and pulling him back before he could walk into a lamp pole. “Thanks, they’re right drugstore cowboys! Glad you’re here at least.”

Brett simply nods. “Make ‘em gimps next time.” He promptly receives a light smack on the arm. “What? A couple broken bones should fix ‘em up.”

“They’re just a couple a’ idiots, leave ‘em be, they’ll learn their lesson when they mess with a moll, her man will teach them.” She brightens up immediately, clicking her heels on the flagstone. “Next time, you say?”

He gives a nod before quietly asking, “If that’s alright with you?”

“Pos-i-lute-ly!” Lindsey doesn’t once unhook her arm from his, leading the way. Brett takes her satchel from her, even as she sighs and rolls her eyes, but is more than happy to chatter and ask about his time during the war as they walk.

She shows up on his doorstep late in the night a month later.

“Yes?” he begins, only to step aside as she bustles past.

“I decided you’re coming to live with me,” Lindsey announces, traipsing across his wooden floor, hair soaking wet beneath her hat. He glances outside but it’s a cloudless night.

Brett follows after Lindsey into his bedroom. “Lay off it, what’re you on about?” She hums, removes her bonnet, and hangs it on the bedpost. He steps closer and asks, “No, seriously, what’s happening?”

“I just told you.” That said, she opens his drawers and starts going through his clothes.

Brett ruffles his metaphorical fur and tries to take his shirts from her hands. “That’s not an answer. Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” She turns around with a taut smile. “It’d be nice to have another werewolf with me.” Her lips waver and her reddened eyes dart away from his as she sets the clothes on the bed. Brett breathes through his nose and frowns at the rotten scent underlying her sweet smell. She flits over to his bedside table and picks up a picture frame. Brett eyes the bruise on her neck.

He grabs Lindsey’s hands when she turns around, doesn’t fail to notice the way she jumps at his proximity. Brett eases the frame out of her fingers and doesn’t let go when she tries pulling away. He spots small crescents dug into her arms and releases his breath slowly. She just smells… clean and afraid. “Talk to me,” he says with a tilt of his head, “what’s eating you?” When Brett sits on the edge of his bed, she remains standing, staring down at his hands. Her own begin to tremble and Lindsey squeezes Brett’s fingers until it stops. He waits patiently, electric light buzzing overhead, an automobile rolling past outside. It gets to the point that Brett thinks she either didn’t hear or isn’t going to answer but then she opens her mouth.

“I killed someone.”

“Oh.”

She shuffles on her feet.

“Brett, I killed someone.”

“I heard.”

“I, uh, I want to show you.”

“You haven’t told anyone else?”

A shake of her head.

“I came straight here… he’s still in my house.”

“I can help.”

Lindsey sags in relief and bows. Brett leans forward and holds her hands to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss on her knuckles and looking up to see tears in her eyes. He smiles and lifts an arm, leaves it hovering in the air. There’s no hesitation as she moves into the hand, cheek in his palm, and lets Brett pull her down to press lips to her forehead.

“I can help, but you need to tell me what happened.” He leans back with a smile and watches as she raises a hand to wipe at the tears on her face.

“Why are you so nice,” she says, sniffling and adding on, “why is everyone in this city such an asshole?”

With a short laugh, Brett asks, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Hooch.” Brett gives her a look, frowning, but Lindsey nods resolutely. “Please.”

“Okay then, but out here.” She gives in with another nod and lets Brett lead her into the living room. Lindsey plops down into the seat in the corner, giving her thanks when Brett sets a handkerchief in her lap. It’s not until he comes back with a cold bottle of alcohol that he asks, “So, what happened?”

“I was called back to the hospital. Our new nurse didn’t show up for her shift, so I had to take over for the early night. I finished at midnight and had to walk home…”

“Bearcat!”

Lindsey stumbles and whips her head around, spotting only one of the men this time. With a harrumph, she spins on her heels and keeps walking, pace quickened. His footsteps scurry behind her, closer and closer until fingers snatch hold of her elbow. Lindsey yanks herself free and hears a ridiculing laugh over her shoulder.

“C’mon, doll, don’t be prudish.”

“Go home, Airedale,” she huffs.

“Oof, harsh, c’mon.” She’s dragged to a halt by the hand wrapped in the lapel of her coat. When Lindsey turns to glare at the man, he immediately moves into her space. Hand on her waist, she can smell the liquor on his breath as he whispers, “You don’t need no Father Time, I’ll take good care of you, make you the right woman.”

“I don’t- stop, I don’t need nothin’ from ya.”

The wicked grin on his face makes her heart beat faster, head tucked down as she keeps her hand on his chest, holding him at bay. “Course you do, doll, aren’t you glad I’m here to look after ya? No one’s gonna want a Rock of Ages, take what you can get, and I’ve got you.” He pops the clasp on her coat, Lindsey jumps, takes a couple stumbling steps, and ends up being shoved against a brick wall. She wheezes, breath knocked out of her, and turns away when lips get too close to hers. “It’s okay, baby doll, don’t worry, I’ll treat you like an angel.”

Taking in a deep breath, she meets his gaze and says, “If you don’t get away from me, I’ll scream.”

“Oh, come now, don’t do that, you’ll ruin our fun.” The hand on her waist slips under her coat to tug at the elastic of her skirt. Fingers curl over her chest.

She slaps him.

He goes stumbling back with a yelp.

Lindsey takes a couple rapid steps away from him, bunches her skirt up, and starts running.

“Oh, we playing, now, huh?” She doesn’t stop, not once, not with the sound of boots right behind her as he shouts, “I’mma comin’!”

She’s grateful when they start to fade, when she no longer hears his hollers and crows. Looping around the park, she heads towards her house. Lindsey arrives red-faced and breathing heavy, hands shaking when she gets out her key and struggles to put it in the lock.

It’s only once she slams the door shut behind herself and leans against it, panting and whimpering, that she closes her eyes. Forehead against chilled wood, she curls her fingers against her chest, tries to get rid of the phantom touches still lingering there. Lindsey yanks her coat off and hangs it up, immediately heading towards the washroom. She leaves her heels discarded on the floor, tosses her satchel onto the couch, and removes the cap from her head to let her hair out.

She starts a fire to heat the water and undresses whilst it warms; stockings, skirt, shirt, camisole, corset, bandeau, bloomers.

Lindsey immediately gets into the tin tub as soon as the last article is removed, doesn’t care that the water is barely lukewarm. She shivers when it cascades down her face and body, running fingers through her hair as she picks up a cloth to wash. Water gets in her ears and she leaves it there, relaxing in the muffled sounds of the water. The next splash of water warms her skin and she can’t help but sigh and lean back, eyes closed, facing the ceiling.

A hand yanks on her hair, keeping her neck bent at an awkward angle, and her eyes snap open.

The man from before grins down at her. “Found you,” he sing-songs. Lindsey immediately covers herself up as best she can with her arms, turning her head away and curling up.

“Get out,” she hisses. She squirms away with a wince at the tug on her scalp when fingers trace over her stomach and slaps at his hand. “I mean it, beat it.”

“Don’t play ‘round,” he coos. As soon as the hand in her hair leaves, Lindsey scrambles to the far end of the bath and grabs her towel from the wall. When she stands, she pauses, staring at him, blocking her way to the door. He just holds his hands out with a grin. “C’mere, I don’t bite.”

“I do,” she responds. The fire crackles on her right and she wonders if she can shove him into it or burn him a little.

“Ooh, feisty, huh? Little bearcat.” Lindsey huffs and wraps her towel further around herself. She tries holding her ground when he approaches only to end up shoved against the tiled wall behind herself. She braces an arm against his chest, keeps him back, and grabs at the wrist of the hand trying to sneak underneath the towel. “Wow, you’re strong,” he remarks.

She’s about to snap something back at him when his free hand grabs the back of her thigh and lifts. Lindsey jolts and her hand shoots out for balance. Both hands free, he picks her up and pins Lindsey to the wall.

She wraps her hand around the back of his neck, turns her head away, and hisses, “Last chance, get away from me, put me down.”

“No way, I’ve dreamed of having you like this for ages.”

Lindsey scowls. She thrashes when teeth land on her neck and freezes as her towel is yanked away entirely. Fingers scrape over her leg. She tosses her head and knocks her chin against his nose.

He bites her neck.

Lindsey shoves him so hard he slams against the sink with a grimace.

“GET OUT!” she shrieks, leaning against the wall for support, wheezing. He startles, staring at her, eyes wide, still gripping onto the ceramic. “Out, OUT! My house, get OUT of my HOUSE!” She tries to fight the tears in her eyes and fails when they run down her cheeks. She picks up her towel and quickly pulls it around herself.

“What the fuck, what’s wrong with you?” Lindsey growls and the man backs off immediately. She follows his gaze and reaches a hand up, running over her wet hair, feeling her ears flat against her scalp. “Fucking… freak, you are!”

She loses it.

Snarls make her throat raw and her ears ring with his cries as teeth sink into flesh. Skin gives way and scarlet sprays her arms and torso, dripping down onto the bathmat. He falls silent when she tears out his throat, eyes wide and fingernails digging into her arms as claws shred him to pieces.

It’s only when his body lays in a number of pieces on the floor that Lindsey drops his head and steps back. Breathing raggedly, she cries at the pain in her arms when she grabs the edge of the bathtub, clambering in with oversized arms and half-changed limbs. Forehead to chilly tin, Lindsey takes in long breaths, her ribs shuddering as she keeps her eyes closed. She hears every bone snap back into place as she returns to a normal human form.

She’s sweating by the time she pours heated water over herself, washing away the red smears. Her skin is raw red when she finally runs out of water and extinguishes the fire. She forgoes the blood-splattered towel and tiptoes out of the washroom.

She redresses upstairs, heedless of her dripping hair, slips on her shoes, and wraps her coat around herself.

Only one thought on her mind.

Pack will make it better, pack will help, pack always helps, pack is safe, keep me safe, pack pack pack…

Lindsey cooks whilst Brett cleans the washroom as the phonograph plays one of her favourite tracks, ears twitching atop her head. She can no longer smell blood or the acrid stench of fear, replaced with pasta and the scent of the limes Brett took with him. He exits the room with two sacks in hand, says he will be back in ten minutes, and leaves through the back door. Lindsey glances at the washroom, pleased to find it spotless, towel and bath mat removed.

He returns to Lindsey setting down bowls of food at the counter. Kicking his shoes off, Brett sits down beside her and picks up his fork, noticing the way she’s watching him closely.

“Do you like it?” she asks as soon as he puts in the first mouthful.

Brett tries to give her a look, still chewing. Soon as he swallows, he says, “Let me eat it first, I know I’m an Anthirio but I can’t wolf it down.” It’s worth it for Lindsey’s chuckle. “It’s good. You really didn’t have to make me anything; I’ve already had dinner.”

“I didn’t want to leave you out,” she reasons with a shrug as she eats.

“Washroom is clean, not a trace of anything.” Lindsey hums and doesn’t add anything to it. “Body’s disposed of, no way to trace it back to you. You’re safe.” Another hum. He’s about to say something else when there’s a knock at the door. She sets down her fork and finishes chewing, hurrying over to the front door, brushing her ears away.

She pulls it open and is met with a pair of police officers. Swallowing her food, Lindsey quickly grins and says, “Hello, can I help you?”

“Miss Washburn?” She nods. “We received a noise complaint, a neighbour overheard screaming?”

“Oh, uhm, which neighbour?” The man gestures to the building on the right. “Oh, of course, uh-”

She twitches at the feeling of a warm body behind hers, stiffens when an arm curls around her shoulders and drags her tight against his chest. Brett just grins and says, “Sorry, officers, that was a fault on my behalf.”

“Pardon?”

“I, haha, apologies, Lindsey is a bit loud.”

She balks at him, eyes wide.

“Oh,” one of the men says, glancing away from the two.

“We’ll be sure to keep it down.”

The older of the officers gives a firm nod. “Do. Well, have a good night, Sir, Ma’am.”

“You too… Officer Cadel, Officer Hendricks.” With a tip of their hats, they step back and move towards their automobile. Brett closes the door.

Lindsey smacks his arm and he just grins. “What?”

“That was- That- You- You’re horrible!”

“Hey, it made them leave, didn’t it?”

“Horrible!” she stresses, even with a grin on her face. She spins on her heels and returns to her bowl of pasta, a laugh rumbling in her throat. Brett notices the way she steps in time with the record and trails after her.

Lindsey does the dishes, says she wants them done a certain way, and tells him to shoo as her ears pop out. Brett ends up going through her record collection, tail swaying on the floor. He receives a very displeased, “Hey!” when he switches out the current record for one of his favourites and can only shrug when she glares. The look disappears when the song starts up and Brett can hear her tapping her feet to it. He opens his suitcase and withdraws his throw, draping it over the back of the couch. He puts a picture frame with the others on the end table and sets a coaster beside it. Lindsey bustles past, says she will be back in a minute, and bounces up the stairs. Whilst she’s busy, Brett places his second pair of shoes by the front door, retrieves his pajamas, and changes in the washroom.

When he exits, he finds Lindsey running fingers over the throw he brought with him. She steps away with a smile and wraps her negligee tighter around herself with perked ears. “Sleep?”

“Yes, it’s late, I know you have work in the morning.” Brett wanders over to the couch.

Lindsey shakes her head. “They let me take the day off because of last night.” She spins on her heels, moving upstairs

“Goodnight,” Brett says. Lindsey pauses on the staircase and looks at him with a frown. Brett simply sits down on the couch and moves the pillows around to make himself comfortable.

“Brett,” she begins, waiting until he hums and looks up at her, “sleep?”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Yes, but… I have a double bed.”

Brett falls silent for a moment. He glances over at the kitchen before looking back at Lindsey and asking, “Are you certain? I don’t want to impose.”

Lindsey leans on the staircase banister and repeats, “I have a double bed. It’s comfier than the couch.”

“I’m fine with the couch.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure? After what just happened…”

Her ears turn backwards momentarily before she straightens up. “That’s why I’d like you with me, to keep me safe.” Brett almost tries arguing the point but he hears a faint whine on her exhale and she pats her chest until it fades. After receiving no response, she lowers her gaze and shakes her head. “It’s okay, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“I’m coming,” Brett says as he stands. Lindsey casts him a glowing grin and hurries up the stairs two at a time. He can’t help but chuckle as he removes the record from the gramophone.

He knocks before entering her bedroom, hearing a small, “Come in,” as he pushes the door open. Lindsey’s busy fiddling with hanging her negligee on a hook, blue nightgown hanging down to her calves. Brett shuts the door gently, waiting until Lindsey finally sighs and hops into bed. “You can have that side, I like the morning sun,” she says, gesturing to the other half. Brett still hovers with a hand resting on the sheets. Lindsey hunkers down and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Go on, it’s not going to eat you alive.”

“You might,” he teases. She bares her teeth in response as the sheets swish with her tail. Brett makes sure to keep to the far edge of the bed when he settles down. “Goodnight,” he says once again, eyes closed as he rolls and puts his back to her.

“Goodnight,” Lindsey mumbles in response with a yawn.

Distantly, he hears a clock chiming the early morning hour. Before he can fall asleep, the bed shifts and Brett hums, looking over his shoulder. Lindsey presses her head to his shoulder and tucks against his backside. When she doesn’t say anything, Brett shrugs mentally and turns his face into his pillow. He doesn’t mention it when he awakens in the morning with Lindsey curled into his arms, fingers wrapped in his pajama fabric, face nestled against his chest.

Loud, borderline deafening. Smelly, borderline headache-inducing. Hot, borderline boiling.

Brett loves it.

Judging by the grin on Lindsey’s face as she takes the hand of her new friend and kicks her feet, she’s loving it too. He waves to the tender on the other side of the bar, ordering a Gin Rickey for himself and a Mary Pickford. Brett checks for the third time that night and spots the man still hanging by the staff-only door, dark circles cover his eyes, a liquor-less drink in hand.

Brett hands over the correct change to the bartender when he receives his order, picking the two glasses up and crossing the dancefloor. Lindsey pauses upon spotting him, giving one of her friends a smile and wiggle of her fingers as she meets him halfway to accept the drink. He leans close to ask, “Having fun?”

“I’m the swankiest flapper there is,” she crows, holding her drink overhead as she slips between the dancers. He follows after Lindsey until she plops down in a seat at the edge of the room and sets her drink on the table. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Definitely,” he says, taking a couple sips from his glass.

“We have to come back here sometime, I can smell another werewolf somewhere.”

“I think it might be the guy hanging out over by the door next to the bar.” She leans back in her chair, straining to see him. “Can’t tell, not close enough, but his behaviour is unusual.”

Lindsey gives a nod and leans down to fix up her stockings. One of the men passing by pauses to gaze at her, both eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He stops and immediately looks away upon meeting Brett’s warning stare. He sips at his drink and nudges at Lindsey’s shin with his foot. She casts him a grin and returns the gesture, mindful of her pointed shoes.

“How’s my makeup?” she asks and leans over the table towards him, eyes closed.

Brett spends a good few seconds inspecting her face before reaching out to poke her nose. “Perfect as always.” A pleased smile on her face, Lindsey picks up her drink and sniffs at it cautiously. Brett doesn’t call her out on it; she’s most likely used to checking drinks for spiking. She downs her Pickford and pushes the glass to the middle of the table, back of hand against her mouth when she hiccups.

“May I take your glasses?”

Brett lifts his head to meet the girl with a smile and responds, “Of course.” She picks up Lindsey’s empty margarita glass and pauses as she’s about to leave, staring between him and the woman to his right. He catches the tail-end of a gasp from beside himself and glances over at Lindsey. She’s got her eyes locked onto the snake charmer, lips parted.

Brett inhales through his nose and oh.

“Well, hello,” he greets, leaning back in his seat to smile at the young girl. Her gaze darts back and forth, mouth open with nothing coming out. “It’s okay, shh, secrets here. You Jake?”

“I’m…” She hesitates and glances over her shoulder at the bar.

Brett frowns; she still looks like a mere babe. What’s a babe doing working here? Why’s she not in class? What’s she doing being bitten barely out of school? The quirk of his lips turn down and he reaches out, offering. She swaps the glass to her left hand, places the other in his, and watches as Brett kisses the back of it. “You got bit too young, I’m sorry, doll.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” She waves him off with a forced smile, her eyes empty.

Lindsey stands up and the girl steps aside to make room for her only to be enveloped in a hug. “It’s okay, darl’, whatever egg got you will pay.”

There’s a hint of bitter laughter as she pats Lindsey’s back until she’s released. “He’s already paid, worry not ‘bout me. You havin’ a good night?”

“Right darb!” Lindsey crows as Brett salutes her with his drink.

The girl gives a nod and says, “I have to go, I have another ten on the clock.”

“Don’t let us hold you down, but we will most likely still be here when you finish your shift. Feel free to come bother us.”

“Okay,” she replies, glass in hand as she turns and collects another empty old fashioned and moves back to the bar.

Brett’s eyes track her as she hurries towards the staff door. He squints at the man waiting there warily until the girl simply brushes against his side, bumping shoulders, and slips past him into the room. The man’s eyes follow her, expression blank. Hm. Friends perhaps. An unfamiliar patron steps forward to try to enter the room only for the stranger to hold an arm out, barring his way, lips moving, too far away for Brett to hear. Whatever he says is enough to deter the man from following the girl into the back rooms.

“We’re not alone anymore,” Lindsey says, voice softer than it has been all night. Brett can’t help but smile at her; seems like they’ll have to come back here frequently.

When she wanders back, announcing that her shift is over, Lindsey grabs the girl by the hand and ushers her away from the tables, into the middle of the room. There’s a faint smile on her face, eyes darting around, one of the youngest people in the room. Brett knows she’s safest with Lindsey teaching her the Charleston and reaching out to play with the beads around her neck.

He doesn’t think much of it when the stranger who lingered around the staff door wanders over and sits down in the seat opposite Brett. With a sniff at the air, it confirms his suspicions. He has his eyes on Lindsey and the other girl. Brett would have accused him of being the one to bite the young girl - she looks around sixteen - but he’s not Genetic.

“A friend?” Brett asks, gesturing to the girl dancing with Lindsey.

He nods with a curt, “Yes. She werewolf as well?” Brett nods. “You bit her?”

Brett shakes his head and sips at his drink. “No, born Anthirio.”

“Anthirio…” the man mumbles to himself. Brett casts him a curious look but he doesn’t give anything away. “You live in the area?”

“West side, up north, it’s quite an ankle but she loves the atmosphere here. You?”

“I live wherever I want to stay the night.”

“Lone wolf,” Brett states, “yet this girl?”

He leans back in his seat and takes a drink of his soda. “Found her half crazy without a pack. I’m teaching her to control herself during the full moon but she likes being by herself mostly.”

With a downwards tilt of his lips, Brett asks, “How old was she?”

“Barely fourteen, last year, she’s still new.”

“I can teach her,” he offers.

“No,” he quickly says, “sorry, but we’ve bonded.”

Brett’s face splits into a grin and he leans over to clap the other man on the shoulder, heedless of the small twitch he receives in response. “Pack, huh? Don’t lose it.” Putting down his empty glass, he adds on, “I’m Brett, my doll there is Lindsey.”

“Jeremy,” he says in kind. When Brett gestures to the flappers, he cautiously adds on, “Autumn.”

Brett’s about to ask further questions when Jeremy stiffens, head upright. He follows his line of sight and spots Autumn being dragged away from Lindsey by a flashy young man, arm looping around her waist and holding her close even as she leans back. Brett squints but doesn’t have to worry for long when Lindsey worms her way between the two of them, back turned to the man, and herds the younger girl away from trouble, back to the dancers.

A screech tears through the room, startling the band enough that they fall still. Jeremy and Brett are both on their feet a second later, eyes scanning the crowd. Brett spots the pushy man rushing to the far side of the hall as Lindsey leads Autumn to the powder room. Jeremy sees them and hurries to follow the girls, leaving Brett to track down the assumed perpetrator.

He finds the man laughing with friends beside the bar, binning his cigarette. Brett wraps fingers around the back of his neck and yanks, ignoring the vocal protests as he tosses the man against the back door. He tumbles out into the cool air and lands on his ass.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” one of the man’s friends asks.

Brett wheels around to meet the duo with a scowl. “You lot stay inside, I only have beef with him. If you want I’ll make you all gimps.” There’s a wary moment where the three men look around amongst themselves before the two friends head back to their drinks.

“Cowards!” Brett whips around to the man of the hour, now standing on wobbly legs, and slams his elbow into his ribs. He falls back against the brick wall opposite the alley, a yelp to go with it. “Fuck, what’s with you? I don’t know who you are!”

“I saw what you did to that girl, my friend, I saw.”

The man’s face drains of colour. “Look, she stomped on my foot, was only fair!”

“Fair?” Brett stresses, giving his shoulders another rough push. “What’s fair is that you hurt her and now I get to fuck you up.”

“Hey, I’m sure her ear’s fine!”

Brett squints at him. What’d he do to Autumn’s ear? As if on cue, the door to the Speakeasy slams open. Brett wheels around to see Jeremy standing there, emotionless, fists curled at his sides, eyes hidden.

“He’s still alive,” Jeremy states, something like disappointment dripping from his voice. Brett grunts and turns back in time to watch the man attempt to make a run for it. He gets a few yards away before Jeremy slams him into the wall. Brett hovers beside him, watching closely. “Not for long.”

“Hey, hey, look, I’ll pay for her medical bills, whatever you need!”

“How’s she?” Brett asks slowly.

“Cigarette in her ear, she’s freaking out because she can’t hear, Lindsey says she’s taking her back to her place - take me there after I’m finished here.”

The man whimpers and Brett snarls, Jeremy joining in. “Your pack, you get first dibs.”

With a huff, Jeremy corrects him, “First and last.”

The man’s screams go unheard, quickly silenced with a punch hard enough to damage his vocal chords. Brett blocks the back door of the Speakeasy and keeps his ears perked for signs of the authorities, ignoring the wheezes and scrabbling going on to his right. Blood curls in his nostrils and when he looks back over, he can barely recognise the man’s face beneath the scarlet lines and the missing jaw.

Good.

There’s a moment where it calms down, where Brett can only hear two heartbeats - his own and Jeremy’s - and he knows it’s finished. Footsteps hurry to his side, heavy breath matching, and Brett raises an arm, lets Jeremy curl hands around it and tug him closer.

“Your friend better know what she’s doing,” he warns, leaning into his personal space. Brett can’t see his eyes past the smoked spectacles but he can smell the threat beneath his words, the seriousness.

He’s more impressed than afraid.

“She’s a nurse, she knows what she’s doing,” he informs, resting a hand over one of his. He feels it shaking under his palm and squeezes, taking a step away from the building. “I’ll take you to our place. You should remove your bloodied jacket before it arouses suspicions.”

Jeremy withdraws and is already removing the article as he moves towards the lifeless road. “Let’s go.”

Jeremy and Autumn both frown at the woven strings he gives them right before they split, an eyebrow quirked, asking what they’re for. Brett blinks slowly, looking between them both, only to find they’re legitimately confused.

“Oh, you have so much to learn…”

Autumn jumps at the sound of the door being slammed open and shut, blinking at the sight of Jeremy as he shrugs his jacket off and dumps it on the couch. He doesn’t take a seat, doesn’t even move into the bedroom to change, simply paces back and forth a couple times.

“…Jeremy, what?” she asks, glancing at him, turning her head so her good ear is facing him.

“I went to a dog fight,” he explains, “wanted to see if I could, could steal a dog from them, save it, set them all free, yes?”

Autumn bookmarks her page and sets the novel down in her lap. “Yeah?” Her ears slide out a moment later, allowing her to hear better.

“They had another- a wolf in there, a werewolf.” He rubs fingers under his spectacles and ceases pacing, standing nearby the window, curtains drawn. “And they were forcing him to fight dogs. He knew I was there and jumped at the cage and started whining and they just shocked him and dragged him off and-”

“…I don’t want to hear this,” Autumn says quietly. Jeremy nods. He doesn’t bring it up, even as he takes slow, deep breaths. He perks up at the sound of scratching at the glass, looks over at the window, and pulls the curtains back. Autumn goes, “Oh.”

“You didn’t hear?” Jeremy asks as he slides the window up and lets the creature inside. The fossa falls to the floor, eyes quickly landing on Autumn, and scampers over to her. She pulls her book further into her lap right as Alfredo shifts, sitting in front of her, pulling his mask out from seemingly nowhere. She conveniently blocks Alfredo’s lower half from view with the novel.

“What is- what are you reading, princess?” Jeremy holds back the urge to roll his eyes. Autumn simply taps at the title on the book for Alfredo to read. “As I Lay Dying - my goodest!”

Jeremy walks past them towards the kitchen, asking, “You’re staying the night?”

“I like to watch as my snake charmer crawls into the dreamland.” Autumn mostly ignores Alfredo. She doesn’t even blink when a fossa clambers onto the couch beside her and lies on her tail. The rumbling noise that comes from it a moment later is an almost-purr, choked and broken, like it’s rattling through a shattered vase.

Jeremy doesn’t think twice of the officer looking at them, simply keeps his arm hooked with Autumn’s and steps closer to the store side of the footpath. There’s a small giggle hanging in the air and Autumn reaches behind, tugging at Alfredo’s shirt. Jeremy nods at the man as he goes but otherwise doesn’t interact with him, head turned forwards, eyes hidden behind tinted spectacles.

A sharp inhale from his left. Jeremy breathes through his nose but can’t smell anything over the strong perfume store to his right. Autumn walks on, uninterested, or maybe just oblivious. Alfredo intentionally leans into their space, walking exactly in sync, chin resting on Autumn’s shoulder at an awkward angle.

“Stop!” Jeremy immediately comes to a halt, Autumn blinking in confusion at the sudden halt and Alfredo attempting to wiggle between them. “Don’t move, stay right there!”

Jeremy holds his free hand up and slowly turns around. The man wields his pistol, staring at them. Jeremy feels Autumn stiffen up beside him upon seeing the weapon and he finds he cannot soothe her apprehension when he rests his hand on hers. He attempts to grab Alfredo, trying to convey urgency, but he only receives a high-pitched laugh as Alfredo hunches over to slide under their joined arms. It’s not until Alfredo’s eye lands on the officer that they wriggle forward and stand up.

“Ah, mister police ma’am!” He can’t see Alfredo’s mouth moving, hidden behind the blank mask.

Jeremy quickly ushers Autumn towards Alfredo and steps before the officer, his gun wavering in his grip as he keeps his distance. Holding both hands up, Jeremy tilts his head and says, “I apologise for my cousin, sir. They- he hasn’t been the same after the war.” He glances back and sees Autumn hovering in front of Alfredo, ignoring the fingers playing with her hair. However, when he looks back at the man, his gun is raised completely.

“You three stay there, don’t move, nothing.”

“You can’t do the not make me- make me not move,” Alfredo laughs. Jeremy tries to glare but Alfredo isn’t even looking at him. “I move free, free like the Thai winds in the children’s ears.” He can only stare, trying for disapproving, but Jeremy finds himself being ignored completely. Autumn looks over at the officer and shrinks back from him when he steps closer, her shoulder against Alfredo’s side.

“No. Moving,” he reiterates.

“We don’t-”

“Li- little government man,” Alfredo taunts, faintly muffled, “try to be big fat potato sir.”

Blinking, the policeman asks, “What?”

“He don’t know I can go pe-pew pew.” Pointing a finger at the man, Alfredo imitates gunfire, only stopping when Jeremy firmly shoves the offending arm down.

“Officer, I’m sorry for him-”

“I’m going to need you to come with me to the precinct, all three of you.” Jeremy opens his mouth, keeps his hands raised, but the man cocks his gun and commands, “Now.”

Autumn whines, high in the back of her throat. Alfredo’s head twitches towards her before snapping back to the officer. “Now look, puny leather cowboy detective, you upset my- my princess of boyses’s little pinkies.” Jeremy hears the small rumble in Alfredo’s chest and twists on the balls of his feet to plant a hand on the middle of their chest. It does nothing to make the noise stop. Alfredo takes a daring step towards the officer, even with Jeremy’s hand in the way, and sings, “I eat your hair for the- the try to fuck with us.”

“Are you delusional?”

“Yes, yes, he is.”

Alfredo leers, taking a larger step forward. Jeremy stares at Autumn as she falls behind Alfredo. He forgets how Alfredo gets when mad, vibrating and leaning over him towards the human.

The gun fires.

Even Autumn flinches at the noise.

Alfredo crumples.

Jeremy swings around and grabs the man by the arm. The gun clatters to the floor a second after he snaps his wrist, a shrill scream following. As much as he thrashes, Jeremy yanks him to the side and kicks his legs out from beneath him, shoving the officer to the floor. He drops onto his chest knees-first, knocking his breath from his lungs completely.

Jeremy sees the ceramic mask sitting shattered on the pavement, spattered in crimson. His eyes snap over to Autumn, fingers curled in Alfredo’s shirt, yanking and tugging them both towards a nearby alcove. “Alfredo? Autumn?”

“Here,” Autumn shouts, a little too loud, but she’s breathing heavy and her fingers are stained red, shaking. She stumbles, trying to hold Alfredo’s weight, before just dropping to the ground completely. “Alfredo? Alfredo,” she says, trying to tug at scrabbling hands, “where’d he shoot you?” The most disconcerting thing is Alfredo doesn’t answer, exhaling whines and fingers sliding over wet-skin, still trickling blood. She unwinds the scarf from her neck. “Let me do it.”

Instead of answering her, Alfredo mutters, words severely slurred, “Noys- no seyes.”

“He got your eye?” A shake of their head. “Where’d he get you, c’mon, Alfredo, let me see.”

“Wou sream.”

As if on cue, the police officer shrieks once before being silenced.

“I screamed? When?”

Alfredo gives another shake and swallows. “Nu scream, no eyz.” Autumn pushes Alfredo’s head back, noting the hands still clutching at half of their face, red smudged across the nose and eye. She wipes at dripping blood running rivulets down Alfredo’s arms and frowns.

“Can I see? Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“No ees, my prinesuss.” She can’t even be bothered rolling her eyes at the nickname, simply starts tugging at Alfredo’s arms again, ignoring the weak verbal protests. Until Alfredo heaves a sigh and says slower, “No cream, ples my nocesweatli’lgurlbi.”

“No scream, I’ve seen blood before.”

Alfredo laughs, fluid caught in the throat making it sound like a strange warble. She gently starts prying away shaky, elongated fingers, already expecting the worst.

A gorey hole stares back at her, cracked teeth moving against the fleshy wall, pieces of white and silver peeking through gaps. Autumn wipes at the smears of blood above the bullet wound, frowning when the darker lines won’t disappear. It takes her a moment to realise it’s a symbol, tattooed into skin, unable to heal. A two-pronged diamond, sliced through the middle, perched atop a tripod…

She has no idea what it means.

The lines are wobbly, like whoever did it had a shaky hand, or maybe Alfredo was shaking.

The skin folds over the eye in a way that makes the socket look hollow, empty. Alfredo’s one working eye squints at her, blinking, awaiting a reaction.

Clearing her throat, Autumn asks, “Where’s the bullet?” Alfredo perks up at that, leaning towards her. Not getting the point, Autumn finds her hand being grabbed and pulled forwards. She opens her fingers in time for shards of broken metal and pieces of what she assumes were once teeth to be spat into her palm. Alfredo’s head tilts back with a broken smile, teary-eyed, blood staining the sclera pink. “Thanks.” She tips the fragments onto the pavement, unable to hear the way they tinkle.

Autumn simply returns to cleaning up the blood, getting Alfredo to look at the sky. “Did you swallow any blood?” A nod. She pulls her hands back to instruct, “Spit it out on the ground.”

Alfredo’s mouth opens. A decent pool of red spills out over puffy lips, dribbling down onto their already stained shirt. Autumn gingerly presses the scarf to the blood and wipes a majority of it away as Alfredo pants, jaw hanging, tongue poking through to appear on the other side of the gaping bullet hole.

Alfredo jumps at a noise Autumn doesn’t hear and looks up to see Jeremy staring down at them. His jaw tightens, eyes locked onto Alfredo’s face. Autumn quickly says, “Alfredo’s mask broke, we need another one, soon.” Alfredo nods and blinks up at the man.

Jeremy glances behind himself, at the drain he shoved the officer’s body down, before looking back at the duo and nodding. “We need to get moving; someone probably heard that and are coming to investigate.”

“Can you walk?” Autumn asks.

“My walky-feetsy prongs are not energy feels with face plate flesh.” As if to prove a point, Alfredo stands up without help, though they remain hunched, face turned down, hiding in the few shadows the street lamps provide, weak light bulbs humming within.

Jeremy removes his cap, places it on Alfredo’s head instead, and starts leading the way back to their small townhouse, constantly checking over his shoulder to see if they’re keeping pace. Autumn hovers close beside Alfredo. Just when they’re passing the hospital, Alfredo shuffles closer and hooks an arm with Autumn’s, grabbing for her hand.

“Walk you home, left gentleman I am, ah!”

Slowing down to walk closer to them, Jeremy states, “A good boy.” Autumn feels the way Alfredo buzzes excitedly, chest rattling, even as blood dribbles from the gash, dropping to the pavement. Jeremy glances at the dark clouds, illuminated by a sliver of moon, and hopes it rains soon to wash the blood away.

The first thing Jeremy says when they get home and usher Alfredo to the washroom is, “Why the hell is that tattoo there?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Autumn admits.

“It’s a brand,” Jeremy explains, moving to the window and peering through the blinds. When he turns back around, back straight, he states, “I’m going to track down whoever did that and I’m going to hurt them… a lot.”

“Okay.”

It’s not until decades later that Jeremy shows up in Autumn’s house and announces, “I have a job for you.”

She doesn’t look away from the television, notepad in hand, writing down notes from the news reporter. “Yeah?”

“How much do you know about computers? Security cameras?”

“A little, why?”

“The Humane Labs and Research are hiring a general technician, training included, for computing and security.”

“Okay, why?”

Jeremy steps in front of the television, blocking the subtitling, and says lowly, a growl under his words, “They’re taking werewolves and doing experiments on them. They have another guy in there. I’m posing as a guard and I’m going to break him out, but I need you to turn off their cameras for a while.” She looks unconvinced, tapping her pencil on the paper. Then Jeremy says, “They’re the ones who screwed up Alfredo.”

“…I’m in.”

#fake chop #fake pine 7 #cow chop #sugar pine 7 #brett hundley #lindsey washburn #autumn farrell #jeremy sauder #sp7 alfredo #writing #anthirio #werewolf au #tw: gore #tw: violence #YEAH OOPS UHM I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS???#someone needs to stop me pls and thanks #1910s #1920s #1930s

19 notes · View notes

viostormcaller · 7 years

Text

“Zhe Good Doctah Haz Got You”

(This took me, what? Three days? Maybe more? I don’t remember lol but I worked hard and I’m really proud! I hope you enjoy it too.) **TRIGGER WARNING: talk of self-harm, suicide attempt mention** It was around midnight when Marvin arrived at Schneeplestein’s bedroom door. He had been having nightmares lately, but this one was particularly bad. The shaken wizard stood, body still trembling as his hand hovered over the door. He wanted to knock so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He just couldn’t. His heart raced and his breathing quickened, the fear of being a bother to his friend in the middle of the night getting the best of him. Slowly, Marvin drew his hand away from the door, and slumped down against the hallway wall, sitting on the floor, knees tucked close to his body. He silently pondered what to do, the sound of his still-hammering heart the only noise accompanying him in the dead of night. Suddenly, the world around him faded to black, leaving Marvin in a seemingly endless expanse of darkness. He then stood, eyes darting around frantically, trying to make sense of where he was. The four-bedroom house he was familiar with was no longer there, but in its place a dark void, which lacked any form of escape. The wizard began to panic, heart rate picking up again. “H-Hello…? Is a-anyone t-there?” Marvin called out into the nothingness, not exactly expecting an answer. His blood ran cold when a voice chuckled back. “W-Who are you?” Marvin gulped, aware of the shakiness of his voice. “S-Show yourself!” “Heh heh heh…how cute. The so-called "wizard” is trying to be brave.“ The voice spoke back. Marvin didn’t recognize the voice at all. He would have at least expected it to be Anti, if no one else, but…it wasn’t. "Marvin the Magnificent, huh?” The voice continued. “Don’t know what makes you so "magnificent”, honestly. To tell you the truth, you look a lot more…pathetic, to me.“ Marvin felt a slight twinge of guilt at first, but it quickly turned to anger as he shouted back out into the void. "I’m NOT pathetic! Who even ARE you?!” “It doesn’t matter who I am,” the voice responded. “But if you’re THAT curious…” the owner of the voice stepped forward, walking out of the endless darkness and just into Marvin’s line of sight. The owner was a young faceless girl, with blonde pigtails, a blue tank top, and a yellow skirt. Marvin almost recognized her as a girl that he’s entertained at a birthday party once, except…well, she doesn’t have a face. Marvin gulped and stepped back. “Afraid of a child? Hah!” The girl laughed, though her body didn’t move at all. With each passing second, Marvin became more and more unsettled. His heart nearly stopped when he heard the second voice. “Y'know, eventually they’ll realize you’re nothing but a fake.” A boy the same height as the girl walked forward, wearing a blue tee-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He, too, was faceless. “You’re just another useless street magician. You’re nothing special. Stop trying to act like you’re "all that”.“ Marvin took another two steps back, beginning to feel nauseous. He took in what the boy said and rubbed his arm self-consciously. He didn’t really know what to say now. "I-I…” he started, but immediately shut his mouth when he heard whispers in the background. They were faint, but coming closer, gradually growing louder. And soon, he could see them: a horde of faceless children walking out of the darkness, each one speaking it’s own insult. Marvin glanced around in every direction. The children were everywhere, surrounding him, and it seemed like there was a countless number of them. His eyes widened as he began to hear clearly what each child was actually saying. “Pathetic.” “Weak.” “Loser.” “S-Stop…” Marvin whimpered quietly, his head lowered and eyes fixated on his feet as he tried not to cry. “Failure.” “Phony.” “Idiot.” “P-Please…please stop…” Marvin pleaded as the voices continued. They were loud now, bouncing around the environment. It was quickly becoming too much for him, and he sunk to his knees and covered his ears. The voices seemed as if they were in his head, and no matter what he did, Marvin couldn’t block them out. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing rapid, and he felt nauseous as the world spun, the countless mass of faceless children surrounding him, chanting their insults loudly. “FAKER.” “LIAR.” “LAME.” “SCAREDY-CAT.” “COWARD.” “STOP! STOP IT, PLEASE!” Marvin cried out in agony, tears escaping through tightly shut eyes, streaming down his face, and hands tightly gripping his head as he was overwhelmed by the insults. The voices then stopped at the sound of Marvin’s shout, but something else took their place. “You know, I’ll never understand why we decided to keep you around.” Marvin’s eyes slowly widened as he removed his head from his hands, looking up towards this new voice. This voice, however, was one he recognized. “C-Chase…?” Marvin asked, reluctantly. Chase now stood before him, arms crossed. He stared Marvin down hard, almost as if he were disappointed with him. “Yeah, I agree with him. You’re honestly nothing special. Your "powers” barely even work!“ Another figure now appeared in front of Marvin. Well, more like "hovered” in front of him. “Jackieboy Man…? You too?” Marvin asked, heartbroken. Jackieboy Man just floated there, wearing the same disappointed expression as Chase. “He’s right, you know. Neither of us understand vhy you are still here.” Dr. Schneeplestein walked out of the darkness now, arms folded similarly to the other two egos. “Schneep, I…” Marvin began. “Ah, ah, ah. Not anozher word. You are vasting my precious time, Marvin.” Fresh tears stung the magicians eyes as he hung his head in shame. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Marvin was even more taken aback when he saw who it was. “J-Jack?” “They never loved you, Marvin.” Jack informed, almost sounding sorry for him. Almost. “W-What?” “You’re useless. They’d be better off without you. I’m sorry to say this, but it’s true.” Marvin gazed incredulously at Jack, and then back at his friends, his only family, who now all hated him. This realization hit Marvin suddenly, and again he lowered his gaze, beginning to cry. “I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry I disappointed you guys…I’m so sorry…” Marvin mumbled out apology after apology, sobbing harder and harder between each one. “Marvin…” “I’m so sorry…” Marvin whimpered, not hearing the voice that began to speak to him. “MARVIN!” The wizard jolted as he suddenly awoke, knees still tucked close to him as he sat in the hallway of his house. A dream. It was all a dream. “Marvin…? Are you okay, buddy?” Schneeplestein was crouched in front of Marvin, an extremely concerned expression on his face. If Marvin could sink any further back into the wall, he would. A horrified look plastered Marvin’s face as he recalled the dream. What if they really felt that way about him? “S-S-Schneep, I-I’m so s-sorry…I d-d-don’t mean to w-waste your time. I-” Marvin stuttered as be began to hyperventilate, terrified. “Shhhh…relax, Marvin…” the doctor hushed the panicking magician, trying to get him to calm down. “Zhere’s no need to apologize. You’ve done nozhing wrong.” A sob escaped Marvin’s mouth and Schneeplestein pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back, letting Marvin cry it out until he was calm enough to talk. “Zhere, zhere, Marv. Zhe good doctah haz got you.” Schneep reassured him. “Vould you like to talk about it?” Marvin then pulled away, nodding as he wiped his eyes and nose on his shirt sleeves. “Come,” the doctor then stood, holding his hand out to lift Marvin off the ground. The wizard grabbed Schneep’s hand and pulled himself up, then followed him into his bedroom. “Sit.” Schneeplestein commanded, pointing to his bed. Marvin sat and watched as the doctor pulled up a chair from his desk and sat in front of him. “H-How did you know I was out there…?” Marvin asked, sniffing and grabbing the tissue Schneeplestein handed to him, blowing his nose into it. “I heard you crying out zhere. It vas a tiny noise, but I heard it and vent to check it out. You seemed to have been crying in your sleep.” Schneep responded. “Ah.” Marvin slowly nodded. “Before ve get started, I need to do a routine checkup.” The pajama-clad doctor informed Marvin. He reached for his stethoscope, which was sitting on his desk, and put on a pair of rubber gloves that came from a box that sat besides said stethoscope. “Can you remove your shirt, please?” Marvin’s heart nearly stopped upon hearing those words. “U-Uh…” the magician stammered. “Is somezhing wrong?” Schneep asked. “O-Oh, uh…n-no.” “Good. Now, let’s get zhis over vith, so I can help you.” Schneep turned around to grab his clipboard and pen. Marvin’s heart began to race, and he began to feel nauseous as he reluctantly removed his red, long-sleeved shirt. He pulled it over his head, and set it behind him, letting out a shaky breath. Schneep, having gathered his materials, then turned back around to face Marvin. His eyes widened at what he saw. Schneep was used to seeing burns and callouses on Marvin’s hands and wrists from practicing magic, and was also used to helping him treat them, but…this was something else. Something way different. Both his arms were laced with cuts, some old and some new, some covered with bandages and some left uncovered. Schneep knew immediately that this wasn’t the work of magic. “Marvin…vhy didn’t you tell me?!” Schneep exclaimed, worry lining his voice. “I could have helped you! WE could have helped you!” Marvin swallowed, feeling a lump growing in his throat. He was trying so hard to bite back the tears. “I-I’m…I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t wanna bother you…” Marvin’s gaze was focused on the ground, unable to look the doctor in the eye. “It’s my problem…I didn’t wanna put that burden on you…” “Nonsense.” Schneeplestein quickly replied. “Doctors are meant to help you. And if I’m not a doctor, vell, zhen my name isn’t Henrik von Schneeplestein. Vhatever you need, Marvin, you come to me. I’m not just here to heal your physical wounds, but…” Schneep pointed to his head with a smile. “…also zhe ones up here, as vell.” Marvin sniffed, wiping his eyes. “O-Okay…” Schneep sighed. “Now, let’s get zhis over vith.” And with that, they got through the normal checkup routine. Once that was done, and Marvin was once again clothed, they could finally get into what was bothering the troubled magician. “Okay, now zhat zhat’s out of the vay, we can FINALLY get into it.” Schneep said, sounding relieved to start helping his friend with what was bothering him. Marvin just nodded, wondering where he should begin. “So, Marvin…” Schneep began. “Vhat is it exactly zhat is troubling you?” Marvin sighed. “Well…as you may have guessed after spotting me crying in my sleep, I’ve been having really bad nightmares lately. I’m not sure if they’re magic-related or not, but they’ve been going on for a few months now, and…” he paused, wondering how he should go about explaining the nightmares. “Uh…I’m not sure how to explain this.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Zhat’s okay, Marvin. Take your time. I’m here to listen.” Schneeplestein reassured. Marvin nodded. “Well…” he continued. “The dreams, they’re…well, they’re not all the same, but they have the same theme. Like, for example, the dream I had tonight…” Marvin then went on to explain in detail what happened in his nightmare. Halfway through, he had to pause because he started to cry, and Schneep gave him another hug while he calmed down. Throughout the entire time, though, the doctor listened patiently, writing down key points. Not only did he want Marvin to get better, but wanted to make sure Marvin was safe, before he goes too far and attempts to do what Chase tried in the past. When Marvin had finished getting his thoughts out, Schneeplestein reviewed the notes he took. Going over them, he had an “aha!” moment. He just might have pieced it all together. “I zhink I know vhat’s bothering you deep down, Marvin.” the doctor announced. “Does it sound magic-related?” Marvin asked. “Because I easily could have cursed myself on accident…” “No, no, no. None of zhose zhings. We both already know zhat you’re afraid of disappointing us, and letting everybody down. But zhe issue is that you’re not dealing vith it, just suppressing it. So, ve’re going to come together and help you.” “‘We’re’? You mean all of you guys?” Marvin asked, sounding a tad bit worried “Yes. You need to confront your fears of failure by addressing it directly. Don’t vorry, though, it vill be fine. Chase vent through a similar process, back when…” he paused, remembering the incident. Recollecting his thoughts, he cleared his throat and continued “Vell, you know.” “I understand.” Marvin nodded. “Also! You vill be meeting vith me once a veek to work on coping methods for your negative thoughts, as vell as to keep track of your nightmares. Sound good?” “Yeah, thank you. Really, for all of this.” Marvin said, sounding grateful. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. I really wanted to, but…I was just so afraid. I thought I could just deal with it on my own, or at least make a potion or find a spell that would help, but that didn’t work out.” “It’s okay, Marvin, really. Just remember, vhen you have a problem, I’m vere for you. Don’t take it out on yourself, okay?” “Okay…I’ll make sure to come to you from now on.” Marvin responded. Schneep then stood, and pulled Marvin into a tight hug. When they separated, they both glanced at Schneep’s alarm clock. 3:00 AM. “Do you zhink you’ll be able to go back to sleep?” Schneep asked, turning back to Marvin. “Probably not.” Marvin shrugged. “But I’ll try to figure something out.” “Do you vant to stay vith me tonight? I…honestly don’t feel safe just leaving you on your own, not right now. You understand, don’t you?” Schneep rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that Marvin would probably be fine but, after what happened with Chase…he was too scared to almost lose another friend, no matter how small the chance of that happening would be. And, if Marvin had another nightmare, a worse one, Schneep wanted to be there for him instead of leaving Marvin to his own devices. “I understand, Schneep.” Marvin smiled. “I’ll stay with you tonight, if it makes you happy.” “Zhank you, Marvin.” And with that, the both of them got into bed, with Marvin laying closest to the wall the bed was up against. While Schneep was able to fall asleep quickly, it took Marvin some time before he could fall asleep, as well. He felt comfortable with someone else with him, but he was still worried he’d have another nightmare. After about a half hour, he finally pushed his worry to the back of his mind, and fell into a dreamless slumber.

#marvin the magnificent #dr. schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye mention

109 notes · View notes

lowkey-dying-art · 6 years

Text

P.E.T ep 2

Aris body was there, and silverware was scattered around the ground, a knife dug deep into her neck, blood leaking out of it. Era skids to a stop, a few feet away from Ari's body. She freezes.. staring at the body silently "....." "Oh god! Ari!" Angy went to Ari's side, seeing the blood and her dead expression. She felt her stomach knot and herself getting light headed again but not from the ghost. The boy didn't even bother. His friends can handle it, right? For now, he just. Continues drawing. What a great brother teammate. Era begins to hyperventilate, it becoming harder to breath and- oh god it feels like the walls are closing in and the world is slowly falling apart and you can't speak or move and everything hurts Angy cursed under her breath, not knowing what to do exactly. All she knew is that she couldn't panic, not now. Eras vision starts blurring and everything around her is drowned out and oh god the only thing there is in the room is the dead body of your friend and th e y are n ..' t. .. .. Era falls to the ground A little voice is heard from the corner, a feminine raspy voice. "O-oh no. A-are your friends ok?" Two small little purple woolen cat ears poke from behind the counter to the kitchen. Angy heard a thud and saw that now Era was in the ground. "Era!" She crawled over to her boss, not caring if she got her pants soaked with Ari's blood. Luckily nothing had happened to her, Angy thought that she had simply passed out. She took off her sweater and placed it under Era's head. Where the hell was Arthur?

He'd jUMP- And whip his head around, looking at the random girl just happened to be like, right there. What. "Okay," He'd inhale, putting the journal away and facing this random lady, and exhale. "Who are you?" Yelping as she got hit, she stumbled backwards. Climbing out from the back of her shirt, a small pig plushie looked at Arthur with beady little eyes. "I am Klondike. The girl you just bonked is Spop Spooker. What human meat name do you go by?" Angy had grown impatient. She couldn't deal with one of team mates being dead and the other one being passed out. "ARTHUR! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" She yelled to the young boy, not leaving because she didn't want to leave both Ari and Era alone. The pig turned his head towards the shouting. "Another meat person is here..... lovely" He's?? What. W h a t. "What." Ok ay- oh jesus Angry's angry. Or, Angy's angry. He'd make his way over there, probably jumping over the counter if that's an option. "Wha- OH. Oh. She's, uh.." Yeah, she's dead, Arthur. Spop poked her head over the counter, curious as to who the new voice was. Klondike how ever was annoyed. "These meat creatures look like they want me dead. We need to flee, energy- I mean friend..." Era shuffles slightly, blinking her eyes open. The smell of blood immediately hits her as she quickly sits up. Everything feels hazy and blurry and- wh.. what's even going on right now. Era doesn't care right now, being more focused on the blurry world around her before she quietly whispers "wha.."

Angy noticed Era had finally woken up "Oh thank goodness you're okay, I sort of freaked out because of you and Ari and-" she stopped herself when she realized that Era was probably more confused than anything "You passed out.." Spop walked over to the door and pushed gently, but alas she could not open the door. "hmm.." She backed up and charged forwards, slamming herself against the door, causing an echo throughout the whole cafateria. Angy jumped a bit when she heard the echo. Was that Arthur? Era flinches slightly when hearing the loud noise, before slowly looking towards Angy "I- I did?" her voice is quiet and confused, and she attempts to stand up before stumbling slightly. Her body feels like jello right now jUMP-- okay what the f u c k is going on at this point. He's like, so confused. Why did he come to this. What is he doing here. He's gonna stand there. An echoy voice is heard saying "you had one job Spop, not to slam yourself against the door. And what did you do. SLAM YOURSELF AGAINST THE DOOR " The loud talking and noises doesn't help the headache Era just now realizes she has, as she firmly presses her hands on each side of her head as they try not to fall over The young girl was confused now. She had heard a voice yell but her attention went back to Era when she saw her trying to get up but obviously not really big able to "What's wrong Era?" Y'know what? He's not just gonna stand. He's gonna sit on the counter. what a boy. Era doesn't respond for a moment before whispering "I uhm.. I don't- everything feels.. hazy,,"

A piece of the ceiling hits Arthur on the head. This is what you get for not helping with your dead sister Era flinches again when hearing a loud thump. She's so confused and everything looks like they're melting wH-- WOW OKAY. He's probably passed out at this point. That or close to unconcsciousness, because he's trying to get over the fact he got hit in the with a piece of the fucking roof. Angy, growing more and more annoyed with not knowing what the hell was going on, helped Era by putting her arm around her neck for her to support herself. Angy then walked with Era back to where Arthur was. Era is just,, so,, confused Spop cries quietly, sitting against the door A small mumble noise came from the 'body' on the floor, and a tiny cough. Aris hands moved up and just, fiddled with the knife for a second, before it disappeared entirely. She sat up, holding her head. "..wh..?" she muttered, looking around,e yes only half open. In a few seconds she focused on Arthur and the two girls, and concerned filled her eyes "Era are you okay- oh my god Arthur your bleeding- wait was i bleeding, theres blood, on my neck, what- what- okay, nono." she took a deep breath, stumbling to her feet "Arthur are you okay what happened- Era you look like you just had a panic attack- i feel like, i lost...something. What is going on-- okay, no, worry about others. okay. okay. uh." she kind of, realized Angy was handling Era, and made a grab to try and see the wound on Arthurs head Spop- "to many people" : ( He'd swat the hand away, no don't touch he doesn't like. "I'm- i'm i'm, i'm fine, it's cool, uh you're, you died actually." Era blinks. Her head feels like it's pounding but she makes them attempt to look over at Ari anyways "di.. wh. whaa."

Ari blinked at Arthur for a second, then looked at Era. But in a moment she had looked back at Arthur again "alright, fine, i wont touch you, but. your heads obviously going to feel like shit, and you are obviously bleeding and in pain." she took off the thing that held arrows and stuck her arm in, handing Arthur pain reliever and taking out Eras anxiety pills, giving them to the female. Out bandages come and she attempts to wrap Arthurs forehead in bandagas™ Era just, stares at the pills, not even attempting to grab them as she confusedly says "You were dead." "H-.. howww..." "What." The pig plush sits next to Arthur "Hello. Can you unlock the door woo mern" He's gonna grab fo- where's his water. Where's his bag. Where the fuc k. He's not gonna move though, seeing as he's being wrapped in bandages. He probably also took off the headlamp. Oh hey, it's that plush again. "I'm not a woman? Or whatever a 'woo mern' is?" Ari just,, puts the bag on his lap. there you go brother please stop being so confused yes thank u. Now he can swallow the medication with a low chance of choking. Era is just so confused and feels like she's melting Ari finishes wrapping Arthurs wound, completely not acknowledging the pig plush "I swear Arthur! if your not more careful you'll-" she cut off, clenching a fist and sighing "Just be more careful." Ari you're the one that just died. Ari looked at the pig plush finally and immediatly backed up "uh guys." she pointed at it "That would be a level twenty-five demon. capable of destroying planets.." she muttered, narrowing her eyes at it "I advise you all to back away from it." "I am not a demon. I'm a pig"

Era sluggishly walks over to Ari, squinting her eyes slightly as she lightly pats her on the shoulder "How are you alive?" she asks slowly, as if saying the wrong thing could suddenly make Ari disappear Klondike waves his plush hoof Klondike looked around "So.... how many more meat people are around here?" Angy stood silently, trying to process all that was going on. Era had fainted but was "alright" now. Ari had come back from dead somehow ven though she had a knife stuck into her neck and Arthur, was just being Arthur. Not to mention, there was a new person and plushie that was talking to all of them and they were still trapped in an asylum cafeteria. She wouldn't be surprised if she managed to lose her mind at the end of this exploration. "No other meat people.. just us," He'd take out his journal again, making another entry about this weird pig thing, titling it 'Plush Demon?'. this is a b a d time boy Ari looked at Era "Not explaining it right now. But i guess its not YOLO anymore amirite?" Ari gave a tiny grin, before going and picking up Arthur, carrying him over to the other side of the room, away from the pig. Ari how did you even, hes only one inch-..yknow what. dont question the mother. "Can you get away from us small demon pig?" she asked politely, smiling Era doesn't really accept that as an answer, but she's to jumbled up right now to really care. Her mind always gets confused after panic attacks (In a state of panic yet not which results in feeling like jello and being confused all around)

"I guess it's YOLF n- HEY !!" He doesn't like this, no stop. He struggle. "How rude. I only wish to conversate with you. Well do be careful to not step on my prey- friend. That's her there in the corner" Ari looked at Spop and she immediatly became entranced, she softly patted Arthurs back after setting him down, and got onto her hands and knees, crawling over to the other girl. She extended a hand. "Im..im uh..uh..hh..hi!!" o boi here comes that shy waddup Spop backed further into the corner. "H-hi...?" She was looking curiously at Ari's hand Era is just sitting against the wall now He's gonna return to the talking pig. Yes talk to the demon, Arthur. Great idea. Totally fullproof plan. 100%. "So what exactly ARE you? Besides being a plush doll of a Minecraft pig or whatever," He's trying to sketch out this thin g, Glaring at Arthur "MINECRAFT?! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM NOT A BLOCKY PIECE OF BACON! I AM THE GREATEST PIG YOU WILL SEE!" "..That's probably true, seeing as most other pigs live in mud," How does it glare at him when it can't move it's eyelids. Or can it? He can. And he is Ari smiled slightly "Its fine, no need to-to shake it" she chuckled quietly, putting her hand down and moving into a sitting position "My name ...my name is Eliza. Nice to meet you!" nice alias there Ari.

But h o w, "You wanna tell me anything else about you? It'd be nice to know." "Okay then.." Angy sat down on the floor finally coming back to herself and not being completly confused "I guess we are doing this even though it's a.. plushie.. that can.. talk.." Spop hugged her knees "My name is... Spop". Klondike raised a plushie eyebrow "Why are you so curious..." "Because you're a talking plush? I mean, those aren't exactly common. Except for the ones with pre-recorded messages." "How do you know my words aren't pretty recorded, flesh person" Ari smiled slightly at Spop, moving a hand to touch the girls leg softly "alright.. definently real." she moved her hand off, just smiling "Spop huh? How'd you end up here? exploring, like us?" She adjusted her beanie. "Mama left me here to be taken care of" Ari blinked "..what" she blinked again "how long ago was t-that darlin?" here comes mother mode, "Cause...this place has been shut down for two hundred years." "Because you just responded to me about the topic? Also because you can move on your own." "Which is.. really creepy, like something from a fuckin' horror movie." Angy listened in to what Ari had said. It was true, the place had been shut down for quite a bit. Did this mean Spop was a ghost? Era tries to recollect her thoughts as everyone else talks before suddenly jolting up, her face scrunched into a look of confusion. She stares at the group for a moment before calling out "Hey- Shouldn't we be trying to find a way out of this place instead of doing little five hour introductions?? We can do those back at the HQ." By what she's saying it seems like she'd be annoyed but her voice is more tired then anything

Ari looked at Era, "Thats definently a good idea. alright" she got to her feet "Arthur, you keep questioning that pig. Make sure it doesnt fuckin move. And..uh dont get hurt. it might be bad. call for me if you need help or if it attacks. Spop, your job is to try finding a window. Angy, if your still panicked, take a few deep breaths then get your ass back to work, try and find a ventalation system, Era, come help me try breaking down the damn door." and off Ari goes. "And if the ghost comes back, dont attack!" she called behind her Era quietly follows Ari, catching up with her pretty quickly. It seems she's a lot better now "Is there any plans on how to break down the door? Or are we just winging it and using a grenade?" Spop was now curious "what is a grenade?" Ari glanced sighed slightly, not answering Spop. "I said look for a window you stupid cat!" she snapped, whipping around to face Spop, glaring at her Era stares at Ari "Don't call them stupid-" Spop backed up "Im not a real cat..." She takes off the hat, revealing only messy hair. Era blinks, then turns to Spop "Wait- who are you??" "Knowing Ari, she'll probably still use a grenade because that worked soo well last time" Angy crossed her arms Ari just narrowed her eyes, walking forward and snatching the hat away, putting it in her quiver. (thingt hat holds arrows) She sighed again, staring at Spop "Look. For. A. Window." she snapped at Spop, then glanced at Angy "And you look for a fucking vent before i have to kick you out of this group!" Ari blease this is your first mission Era pats Ari "Shhh don't yell at them." Spop backed up "I'm sorry for wasting your time......" and back where she came from "Hey by the way, you guys can blast open the doors, you know that right?" He'd shout to Ari. Ari sighed "Arthur did you not watch the documentaries! Ghost locked doors cannot be blown up!"

Angy simply glared at Ari "I'm sorry but last time I remember I wasn't the one who was being a reckless jerk." She then stormed off, not wanting to deal with this crap "Actually no, I didn't because they're absolutely unrealistic!" He'd sigh, facing the pig. "Anyways, Klondike, why are you named after an ice cream bar?" Era inhales, then exhales "Ari you should probably calm down- lets just,, go try and get the door open." Deep inhale from the pig "Ghost and Toast are one state above us Arthur! When we move on to North Carolina explorations we might meet them. Then you can shove that statement down your throat!" Ari please. She looked at Era "Fine! fine. Whatever." she stormed over to the door, trying to pull and shove at it aggresively. The building rumbled slightly, floor shaking a bit Era looks over to Ari in concern before blinking, looking around nervously "Uh.. oh no.." Angy had heard the rumbling "Are you trying to kill us again!?!" Ari stopped, backing up a bit from the door. Worry filling her. The rumbling from the building got worse, as well as the shaking of the building. Kind of like how a building will move in movies before it collapses. Have fun getting out of the cafeteria Era turns her head, calling out to the others "THE BUILDING'S GOING TO COLLAPSE!" "Oh shi-" before she could finish her sentence, however, the building finally collapsed, various debree crushing Angy in the process.

Oh shit uh. He's gonna just grab the pig, stuff that in his hood. Probably a bad idea, but until Spop got back this was the best he could do. Plus, the thing might've been useful. Arthur scurried under the counter as the ceiling caved in. The ghost children in the corner of the room dispersed as the building shook, small screeching as it fell. Ari moved quick to duck and skid under a table, pressing herself aganist the back of it, holding her breath in order to not breath in too much dust or debri Era looks to Ari, joining her and sliding under the table as the ceiling crumbles and collapses around them, the table above their heads getting crushed by the amount of debris and chunks of the ceiling falling onto it A scream from Spop is heard

#daily storytime

1 note · View note