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parchedlips · 1 year

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Little Darling - Part Two

Requested: No.

Fandom: Jacksepticeye

Paring: Reader/Antisepticeye

Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Drugs, Gangs, Guns, Fake Blood

A/N: Keep in mind that this is fanfiction. It’s an A/U of a place I like to call ‘The Underground’. If you have any questions let me know. This is only part two, part one can be found here.. Enjoy!

One Hour After Birdy's ‘Death’

“It’s been an hour and forty-five (45) minutes, where are they?” A growled as he paced in the back room of the empty bar. The woman, Agonia, remained leaning against the bar. She was busy reading a book that she had with her. When he went unanswered, he slammed back another shot of bourbon.

"Easy there buddy, if we have to hunt down Birdy, then you'll need to be sober." Agonia scoffed, sipping her virgin martini- she was one for the looks rather than the feel of alcohol. If anything, the taste of alcohol brought up unwanted memories for her. Though she enjoyed a good vodka cranberry during her torturing sessions.

"Quiet." came a gruff voice from the back. Their leader, a 5'8 male who didn't look like much- but was notorious for his brains. He created most of the drugs within the underground. His most popular was a variation of some kind of psychedelic made from mushrooms you could find up top. And of course his most popular drug up top was his pure, uncut cocaine. The cocoa trees down here provided darker, more bitter tastes, since their sunlight was limited. And their product was stronger.

"Gear," a nickname that derived from his machine-like brain, "Birdy hasn't returned and our men lost sight of them after they stepped into that Serpent's brothel."

"I've heard you two bickering about it for the last twenty minutes, I said be quiet." Gear huffed out, sliding his coat over his arms. It seemed as though he planned to look for them himself, but that wasn't the case, "Agonia, A, I am going to meet with Dark. There were reported shots at one of the Serpent's brothels. If what's suspected turns out to be true, we'll need to strengthen our ties with the Spiders."

"Don't tell me the Serpents took out our Birdy?" Agonia groaned, marking her place in her book and moving to stand with her leader. Gear shrugged, knowing just as much as the other two did.

"Maybe they ran off with the money." Apocalypse grinned, pulling his jacket on as well. The jacket was dark brown leather with the gang logo on the back. Every member had one, which included the gang's name and the head of a Dire wolf on the back. The color of the eyes determined ranking. Red was for the leader. Black for the second and third in command. Brown eyes for the fighters. Blue eyes for the smugglers. Green for the rest of the crew. Every tailor in the underground knew better than to recreate any one of the gang's insignias without explicit permission.

"Let's not get too hasty," Gear hissed out, checking his .40 S&W before stuffing it down the band of his pants. "If it's true that they ran off with the money, then I want them back here alive so that I can pry the confession out of them myself."

Apocalypse nodded, the look in his eye begging for blood to splatter from his hands. That's why Gear liked A so much. The man was crazy, crazy enough to kill and deal without question. That's what you get when you grow up in a kill or be killed world.

The sun peeked through holes in the Underground, what little sunlight was had, had been fought for. The victors basked in the sunlight whilst the losers went to lick their wounds. It truly was a kill or be killed world down here, where only the toughest come out on top.

Dark's part of the Underground was much nicer, to say the least. Closer to the Topside, where Dark had control of the merchants that came through. The Spider Bandits traded with the slimier of the merchants, information and stolen goods for weaponry and drugs. Cocaine was the biggest seller on Topside right now, which is why Gear was so jaded that he had lost his product and his money.

Agonia was the first to approach the door. She was usually the informant that Gear sent out to do the dealings, A was too reckless and Gear simply did not have the time to do deal with the lessers from other gangs. Gear only came out to play when there was something to be won from a deal, otherwise his lackeys did the harder work.

One knock. Two. Thre- the door opened to a young man in a khaki jacket, both eyes were covered with a bandage that wrapped around his head. Don't let this fool you, he was one of Dark's most trusted, they were brothers after all. Host's inability to see let him smell and hear liars from a mile away, having lived in the Underground he trained his hearing to pick up on the most subtle of noises- including heartbeats. He took a deep breath and a brow rose from beneath his bandages, "To what do I owe this pleasure, Agonia? The boss isn't looking to see anyone right now."

"Yeah, good to see you too, Host… Tell your boss that something has happened and we need to know if he has any information." Agonia smirked, knowing that would pique his interest. Host hummed softly, closing the door in her face. Before A could say anything, Agonia held up a hand, silencing him. Only a few moments passed before the door opened once more, this time wide enough for the three of them to walk in.

The house Dark resided in, was a house big enough to contain all of the upper members of the Spider Bandits. A feat that could only be accomplished by building into an unstable wall of dirt and stone. The front portion of the house was visible to outsiders, while the house inside the wall stretched on, for what seemed like forever. Tall ceilings on each level of the house, two-stories, six rooms to each floor. The walls were red, to hide the bloodstains-- or that's what you'd been told a long time ago when you had visited Dark's mansion on a job. The representative, Wilford, said he was ‘too exhausted’ after ‘such a loooong day’.

A small entryway gave way to a large foyer, a grand staircase curved its way up to the second floor. To the left of the staircase was the kitchen, where something with rosemary and lemon had been cooked, as well as the bathroom and another room used for training. To the right of the staircase were the other three rooms, members residing in their respective locations. Those weren't important to the three headed up the staircase. They wanted the conference room, a place that anyone that was anyone had been in a time or two. After all, Dark was the most powerful in the Underground. When asked about his success, he would laugh and state that 'knowledge is power'.

"Gear, Apocalypse, Agonia," Dark greeted, appearing at the top of the staircase a vodka martini, with a twist, in hand. The theatrics that some leaders would put on, for show, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Let's wait until we get somewhere more… private." Gear responded in a soft hiss, his anger having grown since walking over.

"But of course." Dark smiled, gesturing with his free hand and dipping into a mock bow. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, but that was nothing compared to the architectural vastness of the conference room. Despite its innocent and kempt appearance this was some of the nastiest men, women, and others had met to discuss the darkest things you could think of. Dark didn't get his success from handing out roses, after all.

Once the door clicked shut and everyone was seated, Gear and Dark at the head of the table. A sat to Gear's right and Agonia to Gear's left, "Right then," Gear started, fixing the sleeves of his jacket, "Let's get down to business."

- - -

Just After Birdy's Death

Zombie was the first one to enter the room after the shots rang out, the scene before him nearly made him lose the lunch in his stomach. Anti sat with your head in his lap, careful not to get blood on him. The man had stumbled to catch you before you fell, but hadn't been successful because of the amount of blood you had on you. For a split second, it looked as though you had really been shot.

"Boss?" Zombie questioned softly as DeadShot pushed past him into the room. Zombie approached his leader and crouched next to the man. Anti looked to be in shock, his fingers gently running through your hair. Maybe it had been too real for him, and now, before Anti could even check to make sure that you'd be okay, you needed to be whisked away to safety.

"Some of the call girls are already spreading the information, Anti, we've got to get moving." DeadShot stated, always Anti's voice of reason. Those words were enough to have Anti getting up, resting your head gently on the ground and stepping back.

"Right," Anti's voice sounded rough, like he had been holding back tears before the boys arrived. However his face was void of any emotions at all. Turning his attention to Zombie, he asked "Did you bring it?"

"Yes, of course." Zombie nodded, tossing his duffle bag down on the ground. He rummaged through it for a second before pulling out two thin, pale, sheets. The Serpents needed to look sloppy, like they were struggling to cover up that they killed Birdy.

Zombie was gentle with you, under the watchful gaze of his superior. He laid the thin sheets out on top of eachother, picking you up slowly before placing you down on the sheets. Your 'blood' was already soaking through the sheets as Zombie wrapped you up. He left the sheets loose around your head, so you wouldn't panic too much if you woke up.

"Good. Take her to the car." Anti had bought one just for this purpose. Cars and phones weren't a thing in the Underground and only the elite could afford them, though phones were useless down here.

Zombie nodded, lifting your body once more, giving a soft grunt as your bodyweight shifted over his almost healed hand. He moved quickly, ignoring the gasps and scattering patrons, right out the back door where the sleek black car was waiting. He placed you down in the back seat and moved the sheets down to just below your nose, so you could breathe.

Up in the room DeadShot and Anti were cleaning the extra blood up and the blanks as well. To make this room spotless, for show. Though no crime had occurred, they had to cover up just like there had been. Which is why they put all of the duffle bags into the back of the car. They had to make it seem like Anti killed Birdy to keep his money and the drugs. It was all part of a plan. Anti just hoped that the plan wasn't for naught.

As the trunk of the car was shut, Anti caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, drawing his gun and aiming it at the... kid. A boy, no more than ten years old. Anti lowered the gun, seeing the fear in the boy's eyes, and the piss running down his legs, "Get out of here, boy, and forget everything that you just saw."

The boy nodded, but both of them knew that the boy wouldn't just 'forget', how could Anti expect him to. Everything that the boy saw would fetch him a nice price with the Spiders. How could Anti deny the boy something as simple as enough money to eat on and a shower. Something that everyone in the Underground deserved. That's part of what this war was about, he wanted to fight for more territory, to offer the people of the Underground a fair chance at life. Something that he and his brothers had never seen before.

Zombie took the passenger seat, allowing DeadShot to drive. Only Anti and DeadShot had seen the inside of a car, Zombie was simply just amazed at how they purred. Still, now was not the time to lament over the 'coolness' of a car. Zombie understood that, his head lifting to look at your body through the rearview mirror. How could someone he watched for weeks, someone so full of life, look so… dead. Surely this wasn't right, there must've been another way to keep you alive. You had a life down here, friends that will mourn your death, loved ones that would go aloof without your presence.

"Zombie, did you hear me?!" Anti's shout startled the teen from his thoughts. Zombie looked to Anti, his leader looked pale, like he might be getting sick. Zombie knew better than to comment on this, "I said once you're up Top, don't leave their side until you know they're safe… please."

The softness of Anti's voice had startled Zombie, the lack of hope in his voice. Anti knew that this war would cost him his life, and many of the Serpent's would die… but this way, now it made sense, Birdy was too important to him for them to continue to live in the Underground… and if anyone ever found out.

"Of course, Boss." Zombie nodded, and the two men slapped palms twice before DeadShot climbed into the car and they were off.

- - -

Timothy 'Tiny Box(er) Tim' Iplier

The little boy with the light blue eyes and fluffy brown hair crouched behind a crate in the back alleyway. He was little, even for only being ten years old, but he was smart and fast. The way he could bob and weave in the ring, it seemed like he had the fastest footwork in the Underground. He had to be smart and fast, though. His father was dead and his uncles were notorious Spiders.

These skills of his made him the perfect spy for the Spider Family. He was their pet fly on the wall, and Timothy understood well enough. He knew that Spiders liked to eat flies, and that they would gobble him up at any moment if he were to lead them astray. And this is how he ended up crouched behind ‘The Serpent Den’, a notorious brothel in the Serpent’s Districts. Dark had wanted him to keep an eye on Birdy for a little while, one of the members of the Jaded Serpents was seen following them last week. He wasn’t there for too long when a sleek black car roared into the alleyway, Timothy only knew one other person that had one down here, and that was Dark. Said Serpent appeared as if on queue, along with two others he hadn’t seen before. The Serpent was carrying a body, that was certain, especially due to the mysterious red stain that was still bleeding through the sheets.

“They shot Birdy.” Timothy whispered to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Even more so when one of the unidentified Serpents turned his head in Timothy’s direction. Acting fast, Timothy moved to run, but the snake struck quicker. Frozen in fear, Timothy couldn’t help when the piss trickled down his leg.

"Get out of here, boy, and forget everything that you just saw." the man said, embarrassed at being caught, and then urinating on himself, Timothy could only nod before running off.

He went straight to Dark, after changing of course. The King of the Spiders was very pleased with this snippet of information. Not only had Birdy been killed, but the Wolves had lost two very valuable resources. And who was the culprit, none other than the King Cobra himself.

#anti x reader #antisepticeye x reader #anti/reader #antisepticeye/reader #gang au #amazing #anti fanfiction

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parchedlips · 1 year

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my cold undead heart

Hello! If you’re still doing fic recs, I’d love one!! My favourite egos are the Battles, but honestly they’re all cool! (I’m not sure if you’re picking a pairing off of vibe or from suggestions. My favourites are Phantom and Natemare if it’s by suggestion, otherwise I’m honestly down for whatever’s the most fun to write!) for a personality blurb, I’m 25, he/him. I’m quick-witted with jokes in conversation, I love making people laugh. I’m the token extrovert of my friend group, and I like to consider myself easy to befriend even if I’m a bit of a smartass. I try to come across as sure of myself and confident, but I can definitely fluster easily, lol. I hope this is what you’re looking for, and thank you!!

Ah, I think you picked the the right ego for yourself, among the Battles. I would have to pair you with Natemare. A witty smartass extrovert paired with another witty smartass extrovert, I could only imagine the conversations the two of you would have with eachother and the banter.

"I'm not gonna listen to a guy that smells like a burnt down campfire and cheap cologne."

"My cologne is not cheap, Y/N!" que the dramatic gasp with a hand over his heart.

But there are moments to share witty banner, and moments to care for one another;

Mare had been quiet all day, hardly any response to your quips. See the two of you were friends, just friends, and yet you saw eachother almost everyday and not a day went by where the two of you weren't texting eachother. Which is why his lack of response was starting to upset you.

Are you mad at me?

Mare was quick to type back a simple, No.

Then what's with the radio silence, dude?

I don't know.

Are you okay?

I don't know.

Come over, let's talk about it.

Okay.

Okay, see you soon.

And the messages were left at that, no more responses from Mare. Not even an hour letter when you asked him whether or not he was still coming over.

You're really starting to worry me, Mare.

Where are you?

After five minutes of no response, you peeked outside to check the weather. It was cold and rainy, which really started to worry you. Mare hates the rain, so maybe he wasn't coming over. It wasn't until you caught movement outside, on the front porch, did you sigh in relief. Mare was there, safe and dry; and despite how melancholy he looked, you couldn't help but feel your heart beat just the slightest bit faster.

You gently knocked on the window, catching the Egos attention. His eyes met yours through the glass, he almost looked distraught. You were quick to let him in. It was only then that you noticed his wet hair and damp clothes, you had no idea how long he'd been out there.

"I'll get you something to change into." You mumbled before you turned around to grab him something. Only for his hand to dart out and grab yours. The action caught you off guard, so did how cold he felt. He was never cold, always warm from the embers that burned inside his soul.

"Wait, Y/N..." Mare trailed, waiting for you turn back around to face him, "I want- ugh."

"Mare, whatever it is, you can tell me." You sighed out, not in exasperation but in worry. He paused for another moment before swiftly pulling you into him. You couldn't help but gasp, cheeks warming as he cupped your face; and before you even knew it, his lips were pressed to yours in an oh-so gentle kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Y/N... I- I think I'm in love with you..."

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parchedlips · 1 year

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Hi there, are the ship asks still open? I'm an artist and editor, shy with new people, but word vomit about anything with my friends. Overly conscious about everything I do, and I love bad puns. And the group is the Ipliers. Thank you, hope you have a lovely day!! 🌙 (she/her)

Immediately the first person that came to mind was Author. I have H/C's that say whatever he writes comes to life. And what better way to make his writing really come to life than with an artist. He loves your skills and your 'word vomit', it makes him happy when you tell him one of your many stories. He's an Author after all, and you are his inspiration.

Now, I don't know what kind of art you do or the medium you use, so I'll try to leave it broad for ya;

Small brush strokes stared back at you, mocking you. You were at a hump on this piece, you didn't know where to go or how to finish it. It was a simple piece, featuring a black-haired woman with deep brown eyes. She was elegant and fierce in her pose, daring someone to interrupt her focus. Yet, you did not know how you were to complete her, or the background for that matter.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You went to see Author. Whom was in the kitchen, writing away in his journal. His quill moved quickly over the page, but it came to a stop when you came into his view. Upon seeing your expression, he returned a soft frown, "What's wrong, muffin?"

Your nose scrunched at the nickname, but this wasn't the time to bicker about it. Something you had done many times before, yet it only made him call you 'muffin' more. He had mentioned once before that he calls you his muffin because he 'loves to eat muffins for breakfast'.

"I'm stuck on a piece that I'm doing, I have no idea how to complete it. The background's not even done." you sighed, taking a seat at the table. Author seemed to ponder this thought as he got up and went to make himself a cup of coffee.

"Have you asked?" Author finally answered you with a question. His light brown eyes staring into his cup before taking a sip.

"Who am I gonna ask, Author? The girl in my picture?" You scoffed at his silly question.

"Yes," Author said simply, smiling innocently at you. "Just go ask her and see what happens! Maybe it'll inspire you to finish the piece... I like to ask my characters questions about the story their in, it makes it easier to write them."

"Yeah, yeah..." you muttered, getting up from the kitchen once you realized Author was not going to be of help to you.

Staring at the picture was going to drive you insane, you swore it. The colors just weren't blending properly and neither were the textures. Everything looked bland and smudged together, there was no depth, no contrast. Until finally, "Fine! You win! Tell me, girl! Tell me what your favorite colors are."

You waited and waited for something to come to you, but nothing happened. So you tossed down your supplies and crossed your arms. Only for movement to catch your attention.

Movement from the girl in the picture.

"Golds, I would have to say. Maybe some whites? I like deep purple colors too."

You gasped, standing up so fast that you knocked your chair over. Maybe you had gone insane, you rubbed your eyes and even pinched yourself. And still the girl was staring at you, instead of looking off to the side like she had been since you first started creating her.

"I'm going mental..." you trailed off, though you weren't so sure why you were surprised. You had seen a lot of crazy things since the beginning of your relationship with Author. It was probably due to the fact that his stories came to life, but you were... Human, mundane, you had no special abilities. Everything you knew, you worked hard for. Hours poured over art books and learning different methods of bringing your art to life in many ways, but never like this.

"What? You asked a question, didn't you?" the girl spoke again. This time, you picked your chair up and sat back down feeling as though you might fall down.

"Author! Come here!" you shouted and turned your attention back to the girl. Unbeknownst to you, Author was in the hallway watching the whole ordeal. A few sentences written with a magic quill really went a long way.

Grabbing a pen and paper, you began to ask the girl more questions. What she liked? Was she real? Did she have any qualms about the way she had been created? Does she have a name?

"I like birds, rainy weather, you know, the normal. I really like the sky. I almost wish I had wings."

"I am as real as you'll make me, you're my creator. The visionary master, you have to make me seem real."

"I love how you created me. I have curves in all the right places, I love my curly hair and the shape of my face. You've done a wonderful job so far."

"You'll name me, won't you? I don't want to be nameless, if that's what you're asking."

"Right, what is it?" Author questioned as he stepped into your art room.

"She's talking to me." you whispered as you turned to face him from your chair. You pointed at the girl, but when you turned back around, she was back in her pose. Her normal one, looking off in the distance somewhere.

"You're finally getting it. All you have to do is ask yourself the right questions." Author smiled at you, his quill still in hand.

Your eyes went straight to the upright feather, "Did-? Did you do that?"

"Do what?" Author winked at you and promptly walked out of the room, "Get back to work, muffin."

Newly inspired, you picked up where you left off. You couldn't help but smile as you continued splashing color over the girl. Giving her big angel wings so she could fly like the birds she liked so much. With the background in mind, you created a sky for her to fly in. Specifically a purple, orange, and gold sunset to contrast her skin. She truly came to life then, and if you paid just enough attention you could see her lips tilt into a small smile. She was happy and so were you.

It really was the little things that made you fall for him all over again.

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