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0fantasma0 · 2 months

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Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas #weee #gonna make a masterlist in da morning #hope you like #let me know your thoughts

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snippychicke · 3 months

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Me? Becoming obsessed with Hazbin Hotel? Nahhhh...

Okay, yes. I am.

So here! Have some wholesome threesome between Husker, Angel, and (gender neutral) Reader! Maybe someday I'll make more out of it, but for now, mostly fluff and a little spice.

You had been desperate to sell your soul. Needing to escape the asshole that was the reason you were in hell in the first place. (Ok, yes you had killed him in a rather… savage manner, along with his goons, but he had started it.)

Overlord Husk had tempted you into a little wager. A little game of cards which totally hadn't been rigged in his favor. But you had been willing to do anything regardless, at least he had given you an (un)fair shot.

Yet despite his Overlord status, Husk wasn't that bad of a man (demon? Cat? Owl?) to be under--in more ways than one. To the rest of hell there wasn't much between you, other than you worked at his casino with at least a dozen other souls that were bound to him. A little dancing, a little waitressing, a little work at the tables as a dealer. You were a jack of all trades, but you were safe. Safer than you had been when you were alive.

Happier too.

Because when the ‘day’ ended, you often found yourself wrapped in furry arms, claws tracing up and down your arms as the Overlord of Gambling murmured sweet nothings in your ear with that deep voice. Then laying a plush bed decked in black and crimson bedding with the Overlord above you, wings spread wide as he takes what you offered freely.

And as time passed, you only grew closer behind closed doors. They say demons didn't feel love, but you weren't sure what else it could be. Lust didn't have you slow dancing in the kitchenette of the Casino's royal suite, or confessing the regrets you harbored from life in lieu of pillow talk and wiping away tears with soft kisses.

And then Alastor entered the stage. You had been working that fateful day as the others felt their bindings change. Sure, Husk had lost a hand or two before, and therefore a few souls, but it was never very many and he generally won them back.

But that day it had been everyone. You had watched as everyone paused and stared at the heavy chains of a new Overlord in both confusion and horror. You held onto the ribbon tied around your wrists, as if you could will it to stay the same as you were the last to still be owned by Husk.

Then the delicate ribbons became thick heavy chains that made you cry out in shock and disbelief. Husk had risked your soul… and lost.

It was even worse when Alastor appeared on the casino floor, Husk beside him looking absolutely defeated. Alastor's grand speech fell on deaf ears, because all you could do was stare at your lover. Part of you was hurt that he would ever gamble you, while part of you reasoned he must have been absolutely desperate, considering the collar and chains that now linked him to the Radio Demon.

You could see his plea for forgiveness in his eyes, and you realized you had to love him to forgive him.

Because you did.

---

Husk wasn't the same afterwards. Depressed and full of self-loathing with an even worse habit of trying to find the nonexistent sunshine at the bottom of the bottle. Nothing you could do or say seemed to help, though you didn't give up.

Alastor hadn't cared if you stuck around or not, yet you did anyway. The Hazbin Hotel was far too big for little Nifty to clean by herself-- especially considering your new coworker preferred to chase down bugs and dust bunnies to kill.

You didn't find things that bad, all things considered. Sure you had loved the glamor and glitz of the casino, but the Hazbin Hotel had its own charm. Maybe it was because you had never been at the top but lived your life (and part of the afterlife) at rock bottom, while Husk had been among the greatest and most powerful before his metaphorical wings had been clipped.

Actually, you actually were happier working at the hotel than the casino, though it was greatly overshadowed by the rift that had formed between you and Husk. Even though you forgave him, he hadn't been able to forgive himself.

And then Angel swanned in. You were so used to bantering with patrons of the casino you didn't think twice about doing the same with the flirtatious twink. You actually found it fun to flirt back and forth over a drink or two, especially when you heard Husk huff in an almost laugh, light returning to those dark gold eyes of his.

You had missed his sly smile so much. If you flirting with some other demon was all it took, you would happily do so.

And slowly you started to see parts of the demon you loved come back.

Especially when Angel would try to convince you to do something more than flirt and you turned him down each time. ‘I prefer my men a bit huskier,’ you'd tease as you pressed your finger to Angel's lips and pushed him away gently. ‘Plus I'm not good at the whole casual sex thing.’

That would always gain a chuckle from Husk, though Angel never quite got what was so funny.

One night Husk cornered you in the hall, to your surprise. It had been such a long time since you had felt his paw-like hands trail along your body, his deep voice reverberating against the skin of your neck as he admitted how much he liked to watch you banter with the sex-worker.

If you had any positive feelings for the guy upstairs, you would have called Angel a god-send. As time passed, you knew your own feelings were getting into the mix no matter how hard you tried not to be enamored by the star. It wasn't the over-the-top showy persona, but those moments you were able to catch the man behind the mask. The soft, witty demon you enjoyed bantering with.

You knew you weren't the only one, judging by the fond looks you saw Husk shoot towards Angel when the pink demon would snort a laugh, his walls temporarily down.

‘We both like him, don't we?’ You posed late one night, only to have Husk try to bury his face in your chest with a groan. You chuckled as you rubbed his ear, a deep purr quickly emitting from his chest and against your loins as he continued to lounge between your legs.

‘Him, and not that fake-ass that he pretends to be,’ Husk finally admitted before peeking up at you. ‘...You don't mind?’

‘Well, I mean we are demons so being hypocritical would be par for the course… but you also know me too.” You were emotional, bonding quickly with anyone showing you a hint of kindness.

A smile grew, showing his sharp teeth. ‘You know, I have imagined you and him going at it a few times, and damn if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.’

Convincing Angel was far more challenging. Less to the idea of polyamory, but the simple idea that both of you liked him. Not Angel Dust, but the real Angel (because he did not like being called Anthony). That took time, arguments, and a few barbed words as Husk was able to get through to him.

You weren't good with arguments, but convinced him with honest kisses and more sincere flirting. Soft touches that reassures him more than anything.

And when finally you all three were piled into bed in a tangle of too-many limbs and the odd wing, the room full of both laughter and other sounds of bliss, you were pretty sure you'd give heaven the middle finger if they tried to take either of them from you.

(And when Heaven really did, they found out why you were in hell in the first place. Righteous fury and desperation to protect those you loved went hand in hand and made you a force to reckon with.)

#husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #husk/reader #angel/reader #husk/reader/angel

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jedifarmerr · 1 year

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Javi's Having a Baby

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical description)

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Body insecurities related to pregnancy, smut (oral sex & masturbation) and lots of fluff.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Strands of morning light swept through the fine curtains in splashes of gold over pink satin; the flimsy nightie clinging to her growing belly. With her leg draped over the plush white comforter and cradling the pillow, she almost appeared to be sleeping on a cloud. Ethereal. Javier couldn’t help but reach out and feather the tips of his fingers over her cheek; she let out a soft, dreamy sigh that he mimicked with one of his own.

Bliss.

Reluctantly, Javier slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her as the door clasped silently behind him. Goosebumps splattered his chest, in only a pair of loose fitting sleep shorts the draft in the hallway nipping his bare skin; a small price to pay – he reasoned as rummaging through drawers would certainly rouse her. He simply turned the dial on the thermostat on his way to the bathroom.

Once his teeth were brushed, he plodded off to the kitchen with a languid overhead stretch and yawn. Soon, the smell of freshly brewed coffee stirred around the kitchen.

On the counter was a brown paper sack from the local bookstore by her work: another haul of pregnancy books. Baby names. Guides and How-To’s. What to expect. The basket by the toilet already full of them. Magazines alike scattered around the end tables, next to her stained tea-ring mugs.

The house was a sanctuary of her small clutterings – trails of cups, oddly configured piles and sample-size beauty products lining the tub.

Sure, he’d lived with Chucho after Colombia and there were those few weeks a lifetime ago with Elisa; bunked up in an apartment he would hardly call his own; a preservation of the previous owner where all that was truly his were the cigarette buds, whiskey in the fridge and suitcase in the closet. It was a still shot of sterilized loneliness. Nothing personal. Nothing changing from morning to when he arrived back at some godforsaken hour, not even a lamp left on. Just the lights of Bogotá interwoven in moonlight slicing up the tile floor.

So, while she may have claimed it as a bad habit, Javier found those tiny reminders to fill a void that had long been overlooked.

Sometimes he worried that one day he’d wake up in Colombia or Laredo, learning it was all some cruel dream. In awe over how his life turned out. Especially now. With an ultrasound clipped to the fridge. 15 weeks; healthy as can be.

So much had changed since that first appointment. They’d really started to take shape – small button noses and sprouting limbs. No longer blobs but instead actually looking…real. The next appointment was set for 20 weeks and Dr. Kelly had tease the possiblity of learning the sex, depending on their position and all that.

Hanging near the gray and grainy photo were holiday cards of friends and family, including the smiley faces and cheesy matching sweaters of the Murphy’s. Steve had gotten an earful while in town, a dinner squeezed in amongst the chaos of late December to share the exciting news.

If only the restaurant had a camera hidden somewhere, Javier would’ve paid an obscene amount of money to have Steve’s reaction on video. Rarely was the blonde rendered speechless but the news of her not only being pregnant but with twins had Steve on a momentary vow of silence that was only broken by a sputtering cough from downing his whiskey and coke.

When they parted later that evening under the harsh white street lights, the pride and joy in his blue eyes glimmering like the splash of stars above. Steve’s arms lingered around his shoulder, squeezing them as he pulled away; the whirlwind of emotions seeping into his drawl:

From one dad to another, I think you’re gonna do great.

Javier sure hoped so.

It was so easy for him to see how great a mother she was already becoming. It seemed like overnight the fridge had become stacked in color, all leafy greens and rosey fruits. Sadly, it reeked from that mystery smoothie batch she’d concocted earlier in the week which tasted like candied onions; one sip had him bent over the sink while she chugged it down like a beer bong at a frat party.

It was honestly quite impressive.

Wanting to do what he could, Javier put on a fresh kettle then started on breakfast, whipping up some chocolate chip pancakes. The sizzling pan drowned out the small groan of the bedroom door, the creak of wood under her steps.

“What’s this?” Her voice was doused in sleep, rubbing her eyes and blinking awake to take in the fullness of the scene. She had thrown on the robe he’d bought her for Christmas, the ribbon tied in a loosely strewn bow.

He smiled warmly. “Oh, nothing.” He shrugged all nonchalant, flipping the pancake over.

“Nothing, huh?” She wrapped her arms around his torso, warm and cozy from the blankets still and smelling of laundry. Her lips brushed over his spine, making his stomach flex under her palms. “Looks to me like something.” Her voice muffled against his skin.

“It’s just pancakes,” he brushed off, grabbing her hand to place a chaste kiss to her knuckles before sliding the pancake on top of the leaning stack.

“Just pancakes,” she scoffed at his minimizing then scooped some batter onto her finger, sucking it off. “Oooh, that’s good,” her voice was innocently sensual and Javier knew she wasn’t trying to tease him as she’d done so countless times before, working him up until he was left with no choice but to drop to his knees, lift up that robe and bury himself between her thighs.

No – she was completely preoccupied by the bowl, diving in for seconds and thirds. Oblivious to the way her barely there moans, a small pop of her spit-soaked finger made his cock twitch against the thick cotton seam.

Over breakfast she detailed the itinerary for the day, zig-zagging around Austin, bouncing from one open house to the next. She’d practically mapped out every single one listed in the newspaper and advertised on street corners. Javier tried, really he did, to listen but his mind kept drifting into the gutters with the image of her hollow cheeks and eyes fluttering shut.

He was like some rabid teenager doped up on testosterone and while he hoped a shower would wash it away, one whiff of her shampoo seduced him into taking the weight of his heavy cock in hand, pumping it empty while moaning her name into the shower head.

Still.

He found little relief even as his cum painted the tiles, trickled down the drain. The splash of warm water a poor substitute in comparison to her slick cunt: tight and hot and all for him.

Specks of water clung to his lips and imagining it was her wetness, his tongue swiped across it as if he could taste her just on bare memory. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could.

It wasn’t much later when she waltzed in the front door after her daily walk; sweaty and lightly panting. His hair still damp and dark, cock spent – yet it throbbed at the sight of her. All greedy and wanting.

There had to be something wrong with him. Maybe that natural sleep remedy bullshit she’d bought was laced or something.

Because fuck – just hearing the shower running summoned a memory of her braced against those very tiles he’d just spilled onto; the borderline pornographic slap of skin on skin, the clamp of her soaked walls as his thumb grazed over the cleft of her ass, dipping experimentally into the tight hole.

Javier shook his head as if it was an etch-a-sketch, scrubbing the pans and counters until they were spotless and rushing to get changed, but nothing could break him from the lustful curse. It’d been a week since he’d last had her and his body acted like it was water, dehydrated and lacking a pivotal need.

When the shower finally shut off, Javier plopped down on the side of the bed, running his fingers through his hair. His cock tucked away in his jeans, hard and aching.

Already at the end of his rope when she suddenly appeared in the doorframe – hair pulled back from her face and wrapped in a towel, he let out a throaty groan. The beams of morning light made her skin look dewy; beads of water like crystal teardrops tracing her collarbone and down to her chest and making him immediately feel parched.

Javier gawked in exhalation – unworthy of someone so angelic.

But she stiffened under his reverent and devouring gaze, clutching the towel closer to her body until it became skin and trying to walk away, but Javier was quick to click his tongue and drag her by the hip into the slot between his thighs.

“Baby,” he said in a husky voice, roaming along her sides and whining at the thickness of the material. Damn these nice towels. He just wanted to feel the outline of her.

“Javi.”

He peered up with those puppy dog eyes she couldn’t deny, begging for just a selfish moment of indulgence. She relented, a subtle shake of her head with a smile that betrayed her.

Keeping his eyes on her, examining her expression as he teased where the towel and her skin met. The graze of fingertips over the misty plushness of her inner thigh made her lips part. Only to clip back shut, tensing as his other hand fiddled with the makeshift flap.

“Javi - I - I should get ready.” Her voice spiked up and his lips dipped into a subtle frown, but not for himself. He laid his palm flat on her thigh, teasing at the apex. He could feel the heat that radiated from her cunt, knowing if he closed that centimeter gap she’d be wet.

“Just-” His forehead dropped softly against her belly, nuzzling his nose into the towel fold. “Let me see you.” Her thighs clamped around his hand; her silence prickling the air, bleeding with self-sabotaging thoughts that drew a furrow in her brow.

He knew she was struggling with her evolving body. It seemed to snowball in the past few weeks after a button had popped off her jeans. It started with small comments that grew more frequent – comparing herself to a pregnant co-worker, pointing out the funny fit of her clothes. Of course, he tried to rebuff them with sensitivity and understanding but to no avail. The mind was tricky like that. He noticed how she looked in the mirror with what seemed to be a sense disapproval, trying to hide herself by insisting the lights stay off during sex, if not keeping on her shirt.

Her perception of herself and what she saw was completely mismatched to his and Javier felt lost on what to do; how to help. How could he make her see what he did?

“Please, baby,” his voice was thick with desire, gaze earnest. He could see her contemplating, gnawing on her bottom lip before giving a small nod. He gave her the lead, leaning back slightly which also happened to offer a more ample view.

With a shaky exhale, she ripped off the towel like it was a band-aid.

Bare before him, stomach swollen; his dark eyes cruised her figure and the sound that rumbled from deep in his chest bordered on barbaric and even slightly possessive.

He visibly adjusted his cock then grasped at the meat of her hips. “My pretty wife,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose along her stomach, one hand skating along her side. The catch of his thumb at the cusp of her swelling breast made her shiver in his hold; she’d become so sensitive.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, enveloped in her softness and scent of her body wash.

“Still?” The slight tremble of nervous hope in her voice ripped at his insides.

He stopped, looking into her eyes.

“Always,” he said, sternly and she breathed out, body melting in relief.

Slowly, she became malleable in his arms as his worshiping hands turned her doubts to dust; a river of praise flowing from his lips as tender as the kisses he dotted her belly with. He roamed to her thighs and her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging at the strands. Her head thrown back, praying to the sky in needy little whines.

“Oh baby,” he marveled at the wetness smeared across her skin; a graze of his fingertips making her buck into his hand. “So wet for me.” He swiped over the sensitive bud, ripping a pitiful sound from her lips that sparked at his spine, tugged at his balls.

“Please - Javi. I-”

“What baby?” He cooed, “Want me to take care of you?” She bobbed her head eagerly, hips rolling on reflex. “Then lay on the bed.”

She scrambled onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to support her back as his knees collided on the rug, yanking her by the hips to the edge. He caught a whiff of her musky scent and growled.

Propped up on her forearms, she watched in awe as Javier spread her open, gaping at her shiny folds and swollen pussy on full display.

“Look at you,” he wet his lips then smeared it across her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat at the wet slide of his tongue tracing where she desperately craved him most.

Teasing her was one of his favorite hobbies and searching for a smidge of relief to the heat in her belly, she palmed at her breasts, nipples pinched between her thumb and forefinger.

Javier hummed in approval and leaned in, catching her off guard with a swift swipe over her soaked seam; a taste tantalizing as it bloomed on the tip of his tongue. An urge to devour her clawed at his senses; to plunge his tongue inside her and torture her with the tip of his nose until she was screaming.

But – mindful of her newfound sensitivity, he explored with slow and steady strokes that had her soaking his tongue.

“So good." He sounded drunk, lapping at her dripping entrance and up to suck her clit between his lips. The ever so light graze of teeth over the swollen bud had her crying out his name in ecstasy. Clawing at the comforter and finding ground in his hair; each tug and pull and delicious scratch of her nails along his scalp sent him spiraling in coils of pleasure that made him rut into the side of the mattress like some depraved hound.

It reminded him of that addicting moment when he finally gave into desire and touched her – tasted her like he’d dreamed of. He’d never felt anything like it. The pleasure was so sharp; so precise. Never a sound so sweet as his name on her lips in the crest of the release he built.

He’d been overwhelmed by it, hand wrapping around his cock until he came with his tongue buried inside her.

The effect she had on him was unexplainable, a wild drive of insane want. Insatiable, he could spend every day right here and it still somehow would never be enough.

She whined in protest when his mouth retreated to her thighs, seeking him out and earning a quick tsk of his tongue and nip to her thigh.

“I got you,” he assured with a taunting undertone as two thick fingers sunk into her, walls drenched and clenching around him. “Already so close,” he commented, cocky as if he wasn’t on the edge of finishing in his pants.

A crook of his fingers hit that spot that made her thighs tremble and breath waver.

"You wanna come?” He asked, dragging his fingers in and out, the obscene squelch torture to his constrained cock but this wasn’t about him. It was all about her and the swipe of his thumb over her clit made her gasp and body bow forward in pleasure.

“Please,” she cried out, “Oh, please Javi - please.”

“Look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open at his demand, wild and ravishingly desperate, matching his own. “You’re gonna watch,” he emphasized with a soft stroke directly to her bud and her head fell into a broken nod, mouth wide open and panting.

“Been thinkin’ of this pussy all day.” He glanced away from her blissed out face, just for a moment to watch her greedy hole suck his fingers in, the thick digits coated in slick, glistening in the sun as they reemerged. “About my pretty wife, all fucked out.”

Unable to speak, she could only whimper in response; white hot pleasure spreading through her veins, down to her toes and fingertips, prickling the hairs on her scalp.

“Fucked myself in the shower,” he admitted and her body twisted, moaning as her pussy eagerly welcome a third into her. “Thinking of you but fuck - nothing compares. No one compares.”

He spit on her clit, possessively and swirled it around with his thumb until his name was strung together, intertwined in a babbling mess.

“Come on, baby. Yeah, I can feel it,” he moved faster, primal. Eyes black and watching himself drive into her cunt. “You’re gonna soak me aren’t you? Fuck I want you too. Come on baby, come on - claim me - fuck. Yeah - claim me.”

Javier moaned in unison with her, mouth open in awe as she gushed around his fingers, rubbing at her clit relentlessly. She shuddered in the aftershock.

“Javi,” she whined, making him slow to a steady halt, murmuring sweet praise between cleaning her thighs, sucking it off his fingers – a rare delicacy. Moments away from mouthing at the mess on the sheets, she called out to him.

He looked ravenous, lips and chin shiny and shirt completely ruined. Climbing on top of her he crushed his lips against hers, smothering her in her own release – drawing it across her lips, tongue and mouth. His painful bulge pressed into the softness of her thigh, grinding unconsciously into it.

“Javi,” she spoke into his mouth and he groaned at the sweetness of the sound, how it echoed in the cavern of his mouth. With all the blood rushing to his cock, brain fizzled out all he could hear was the roar of his heartbeat, feel the static as it built at the base of his spine.

She called his name again and again until finally it sliced through his mushy brain and he halted. Every muscle in his body rigid and on the verge of snapping. His breathing heavy with shame, head buried in the crevice of her neck to hide the burn of it on his cheeks.

He panted his apology, shaking his head. His cock was throbbing painfully against his zipper, denim sticky and incredibly uncomfortable.

“No - no,” she rushed out, combing down the sweaty strands of hair at the base of his neck with one hand and catching him off guard as the other cupped his erection. The cords of his neck went taut and strained, breath catching on something in his lungs.

He dropped his sweaty forehead to her shoulder and tried to speak but the words died off into a whimper as his hips moved on their own freewill.

“Do you wanna cum like this?” The hush of breath over the shell of his ear built at the fire inside him. “Or in my pussy?”

“Oh fuck.” He gasped. “I won’t - I won’t last. I’m so close.” His voice broke on the words, vulnerable and raw.

She shushed him softly. “That’s okay, let me take care of you. Lay down - your poor knees. Come on, baby.” She was right, his knees ached at the mere mention; the edge of pain drowned out by searing arousal.

Surrendering, Javier rolled over, feet thunking flat on the floor and knees bent. The comforter felt heavenly on his back.

In the light, he could see the stain along his zipper where blue turned black. Working in tandem, jeans inching down his calves and rucking up his shirt, she burrowed into his side, nuzzled into his neck. A perfect fit.

His cock laid heavy on his tummy, head nearly purple and leaking onto his brazen skin, cooling it. He draped his arm around her, grasping at her hip as the other clenched into a fist at his side.

The first stroke along his swollen and slicked up cock made his back arch off the bed. Each one after drawn out, featherlight from base to tip; thumb sweeping over the pearly beads and tracing them along the thick vein of his cock.

It was so different from his hard, means to an end touch earlier; all honeyed hands, tender caresses. The praise she whispered for only him was too much. Too dizzying. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrusted into the ring of her grip. Her name dripping like nectar from his lips.

“Go on, Javi. Take it. It’s yours.”

Javier wasn’t an innately possessive man but hearing her say that, his mind went absolutely blank. Bucking up, headboard clapping against the wall from the force of it. His thrusts were sloppy; unhinged and desperate.

When her lips dipped to the curve of his neck and sucked softly at the sensitive skin, it left him groaning and shuddering with pleasure. Her grip tightened, pumping him in unison and for a moment he couldn’t breathe; there was no oxygen that high up.

“Come on, Javi,” she whispered, feeling his cock pulse in her palm, dangling right at the edge. “Cum for me.” The force of his orgasm took his breath away, white-hot and blinding. His hips jerked, body trembled, riding the waves of ecstasy.

Her lips tangled with his in a languid kiss, bringing the air back into his lungs. He groaned when she broke away, licking her hand then his hips clean. The wet slide of her tongue had him shuddering with racks of residual pleasure.

Cognitive functioning slowly returning, Javier brought her face between his hands before she could wander too far and kissed her lips, “You’re so beautiful, so amazing. I love you so much." he kissed her nose and forehead, wiping away the overwhelming tears on her cheeks with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“I love you too.” Her hand covered his, placing a kiss to his wrist then palm. She caught a glance at the clock on the nightstand and sighed, pulling out of the embrace and to her feet. “But, we gotta go.”

Javier groaned, flopped back on the bed and draped his arms over his eyes. He heard the rummaging of clothes, somewhere in the closet.

“Javi, are you up?”

“I’m basically ready,” he murmured, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm.

She scoffed, looking him up and down while pulling on a pair of leggings. “You gonna wear that?” She chuckled at his current state, jeans pooled at his ankles and shirt stained in a mix of both him and her.

He propped himself up on his forearms and glanced down, shrugging. “Maybe. If you wear just that.” He wiggled his brows at her bare chest and she couldn’t help but smile, even as she threw off the comment with a dismissive wave.

“You’re impossible, now come on. We’re gonna be late.”

---

The housing market had hit that typical lull around the holiday’s which Javier understood. Who wanted to bother selling and moving during the busy season? However, it put the search on quite a time crunch. 24 weeks.

At most.

Neither him nor her wanted to settle for anything less than ideal, but seven houses later and each one earning her indifferent hum, she was slumped in the passenger seat; dejected. The only positive seemed to be a promising realtor at the fourth house who had given her their card and just so happened to have a house down the street coming on the market in the coming days. Driving past it, it looked perfect but had one problem – it was only three bedrooms.

“Do we really need four bedrooms?” Javier asked, glancing over his shoulder while switching lanes. “I mean - it’s just us and then…them.”

Her head did this little teeter from side to side, “Well….yeah,” she drew out the last word and Javier knew what that meant: someone had an idea. He looked over the rim of his aviators and she breathed out through her nostrils, stirring in the seat to face him.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said and Javier hummed at the very obvious statement. “And well, I - I just thought it’d be nice for your dad to have a place.”

Warmth spread across his chest at her admittance. The fact that she’d thought of that, thought of his father and planned for him in the future, his eyes went glossy – hidden by the colored lenses of his sunglasses.

He’d never felt so lucky; so appreciative of her.

Lost in the moment, speechless by it; she continued on. “Ya know, with them coming it might be hard to get away for a weekend and with Danny starting to help out, the place will be his one day and all, I thought he could come and stay for even like a couple weeks or something.”

Javier cleared his throat, “Baby, that’s - yeah - he’ll love that. He’d love that.”

Her hand found his, fingers intertwined and Javier would never know what he’d done to deserve this.

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long, I hit a small roadblock on configuring the chapter so thank you for the patience!

#javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction

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alister312 · 10 months

Text

i feel like i haven’t made a gregstophe thing in while…. losing my gregstophe cred so here’s some hobby headcanons!!

Gregory is definitely a journaler. He started some time in elementary or middle school with the hopes of leaving behind a fantastic historical record but as he grew up, he realized that was a bit unrealistic. He kept the habit though, as it’s a good way to relax and keep his mind sharp. Usually he uses very nice leather-bound notebooks because he likes the aesthetic and how they look on the shelf when he’s filled them. Sometimes he’ll go and read them, especially if he needs a pick me up and wants a good memory. At one point he considered turning them into a memoir but realized that a lot of stuff he’d written about him doing was illegal or would put him under a lot of scrutiny (revolutionary life) so the journals are just for him.

While Gregory likes the idea of pets in theory, I don’t think he’s huge fan of the mess they end up making everywhere (he’s already got one creature in his house making things messy, he really can’t handle a second one lol). However, because of that, he’d be really drawn to fish! He’d have a huge tank with all sorts of plants floating on top, lots of colorful fish, a complex filtration system, etc. If/When he and Christophe get a house, he’d really push for a koi pond just so he has more fish to look after. Christophe agrees because he thinks Gregory’s fish are cool even though he doesn’t understand why they can’t just live in a bowl and be given fish flakes.

He tries hard to pretend he isn’t, but Gregory is definitely into rich upperclass people sports like like pickleball and golf. He grew up playing them with his family so there’s a bit of nostalgia involved in it. Christophe teases Gregory whenever he tries to casually suggest that they go play for a little bit, just for fun. Usually Gregory has to convince someone else to go with him (often Tolkien who has a similar nostalgia-based interest in playing).

Christophe is really into gardening and plant care (shocker lol). When he was a kid he got yelled at a lot for digging up the yard, so he would replant stuff to try and make the lectures just a bit less intense. It was also a good excuse as to why he was coming in covered with dirt or why there was dirt all over his floor. Eventually he started doing it because he liked it, not just for the excuse. Sometimes he tries crossbreeding plants but mostly he just grows them as they are.

While Christophe would never go to a regular gym, he does go to a boxing gym. He wants to keep himself in good fighting conditions for obvious mercenary reasons and he feels like just having a real sparring partner is much better than a punching bag. It’s one of the few places where he’s got a number of people he’s friendly with since he’s literally required to interact with people. Despite that, Christophe kind of latches onto the few people he found he liked at the beginning (like Tweek).

From whittling to sculpting, Christophe really likes making things with his hands. Initially it was something to pass the time like when sitting around with a knife so he picks up a stick, or finding clay while digging and making a little thing. He also likes putting together random bits of trash he has. Gregory keeps close track of his paper clips because there’s a good chance if Christophe sees them lying around he will twist them into something else, rendering them unusable. He displays all the mangled paper clip creations on his desk though, as well as other things Christophe makes because he thinks they’re nice.

#been trying to think about more normal stuff about them bc i love the angst but it’s nice to remind myself they exist outside of it too 🥰#south park #sp headcanons #gregstophe #gregory of yardale #christophe delorne #sp gregory #sp christophe

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ciaossu-imagines · 7 days

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(day 17) prompt 10 - bathroom for tetsu (servamp)? thank you!

Of course, my dear! Thank you so much for sending in a request, especially for this fandom 😊 It makes me really happy, and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons!

Bathroom:

How does the character prepare in the morning?

I do think Tetsu is an early riser. He’s up by five or six most mornings, unless he’s had to be going without sleep at night, where he might sleep in until seven. He gets up, takes a piss, and then takes an hour of his morning to exercise. The type of exercise he does varies from going running to basic strength training to things like the batting cages to help his reflexes and hand-eye coordination. After that, he’ll help with anything he needs to around the inn before eating breakfast and then heading to school.

Do they sing in the shower?

Honestly, no. Tetsu is all around a kind of quiet person. It’s not that he’s purposefully trying to be stoic or silent, it’s just that he doesn’t much see the point of talking and making noise if there’s nothing to say or no reason for the noise. He might, if he’s had an absolutely amazing day, hum a little while he showers, but the bath is relaxing, peaceful, quiet time for him.

What kind of hair product/make-up do they use?

Tetsu is a very simple person, and it’s no surprise that his choice in toiletries is very simple too. I do think he uses a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner (it actually wouldn’t shock me to learn he uses the horrible three in ones that are shampoo, conditioner, and body wash), bar soap that has its own bag. As far as smells go, he prefers unscented products when he can find them but if he can’t, he prefers lighter scents, something more along the lines of baby shampoo than something heavily perfumed like Axe. He largely only has clips and bobby pins to help tame his hair. He doesn’t wear any make-up and probably never would – it looks super complicated to do and seems very time-consuming.

How clean is this character?

Tetsu is pretty clean. He’s not a slob and you won’t find rotting food on his floor or big heaps of garbage here and there. He takes pride in his home and his room and so he works to keep it looking decent. However, he has some untidy habits, like leaving everything haphazardly on his desk, not putting his clothes in the laundry basket until there’s an armload of them on the floor and he leaves his drinking cups laying around after he’s done with them.

Does the character have thousands of shampoo/shower gel bottles by the shower, or do they use only the bare essentials?

I guess I kind of answered this above, but I’ll reiterate. Tetsu is a very simple person, and he doesn’t like a lot of muss and fuss. As with most things in his life, the bare essentials and simplest things satisfy him the most and he’ll really only have a couple of bath-things to keep track of.

#replies #event asks #servamp #servamp headcanons #headcanons #tetsu sendagaya

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lovely-necromancy · 2 years

Text

The Moon and the Stars ch 4

Pairings: Mark Spector/Reader, Steven Grant/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader

Warnings: Swear words, inaccurate DID

Word count: 6,153

Marc had taken over fronting by the time the three of you had walked from the parking garage over to Nelson and Murdock. Jake apparently taking a back seat now that he wasn't needed to drive. It seems like a strange trade off but you also dislike driving and wouldn't mind having someone to take care of that for you. Though you're a little more than envious that each of them seemingly get to – for the lack of a better term, stop existing for a bit. Passing over the reigns when things get too much or they aren't needed in the moment.

Not that you think it's easy by any means to live with their condition or in their situation at all. You just find existing difficult to do constantly for something that seems to go on for so long. Maybe that's the reason people pair off in sets you'd get someone to do things you dislike; like doing the dishes and as a trade off they'd find cooking to be a chore and you'd gladly take over that. Or even having someone like Jake to drive for those few times that you had to.

Unlike Jake, Marc doesn't walk behind you and Layla to keep an eye out for you, something you're very grateful for since it gives you a rest from the searing feeling of eyes on your back. Instead Marc walks beside you and it's only when he catches sight of the marquee as you pass it, that he steps ahead of you making sure he holds the door for both you and Layla.

“Thank you.” slips out from habit, but you're no less appreciative of his chivalrous gesture.

Your voice catches Foggy's attention, he unfurrows his brow as he fiddles with the furniture parts laying around him.

“I told Matt to lock the door.” he mutters to himself sounding miffed.

You lock the door and motion for Layla and Marc to take seats in the waiting area, as they warily eye the man's tense posture.

“I promise he doesn't bite, anyway seems he's occupied.” you say oblivious to the agitation of the strawberry blonde on the floor, and the glare he's giving you.

Foggy flips you off as he double checks the instructions, “And definitely not in the mood for your shit.”

His tone rolls right off of you as you walk to hover in front of him. His jaw clenches and relaxes the clenches back up again, like he's biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something. You are too busy looking at the upside down booklet to notice any of his out of place mannerisms.

“What's this anyway?” you ask crouching down across from him, still reading the booklet.

“Fish tank.” tone short and clipped.

“Duh, why are you getting fish though?” tilting your head as your eyes rest on him.

“Jesus, because waiting areas have fish in them!” he snaps.

You held his gaze for a moment and wait for his shoulders to relax before speaking. But he goes back to the two pieces of wood that look like they are the same, and probably aren't meant to connect like he's attempting.

“Like who's gonna take care of them though? Y'know cleaning and stuff, you guys don't really have a secretary not to mention Matt's liable to suck a fish into a siphon while cleaning if he tried.”

The attempted ice breaker falls on deaf ears as Foggy ignores you, in favor of flipping back a page in the booklet.

“So...” you draw out the word until he looks at you brow hunched downward and lips off set in a semi snarl, “What fish are you getting?”

Foggy's exclamation of 'God Dammit' and throwing down the pieces of wood in a huff have Marc and Layla leaping from their seats. Layla hovering next to you, ready to pull you behind her and Marc standing in front of you both.

Marc throws a pointed look at you from over his shoulder, “I think you've done enough, now sit.” he orders pointing towards the seat he had occupied just seconds ago.

Your face scrunches up at that and Foggy's does too.

“Hey man, don't talk to them like that.”

“We came to ask you a few questions, not to antagonize you. We just want some answers then we'll be on our way.” Marc explains.

Foggy looks your way catching your eyes and you see the storm cloud swirling in them. The same concern and question Marnie's held not even an hour ago. The questions and uncertainty getting darker and heavier the longer you don't say anything. You thump your foot down in a mix of frustration and annoyance.

“Will you shut up,” you direct at Foggy, “this is Layla, that's Marc. And we're all gonna be friends in the future...I think. Nothing nefarious.”

Again Foggy looks at you, this time with a questioning look that makes you think you've said something wrong. But you aren't sure what exactly, maybe adding 'nothing nefarious' seemed nefarious in itself.

“Shit kid, is this why Matt and I got weird half texts from you?” Foggy groans out.

“They weren't half texts, I thought they made perfect sense.”

“Yea, only after we put our texts together, you set up a puzzle for us. You really need to learn how a group chat works or how to string together a coherent thought.”

“Uggh, I know how group chats work I just hate them...” tossing your head back with a groan, “Anyway you guys figured it out.”

“That's not the point, I was worried something happened.” the air feels heavier as Foggy's real meaning hits you.

Taking a moment you're sure he meant 'I thought you disappeared again' and that throwing out 'technically something did happen' wasn't the best choice right now. Especially with how fried his nerves must be. Looking off to the side you rub at your elbow sheepishly.

“I wasn't thinking...”

It was mumbled but it was as close to an apology as Foggy would get, begrudgingly he'd accept it; he always did. Sighing he harshly rubbed a hand down his face before composing himself and sighing.

“I swear, between you and Matt I'll go gray before the end of the decade.”

“Pfft, I can make it the year.”

That comment gets you a stern look like a father reprimanding his child, it leaves you grinning like a fool at Foggy. He turns his attention to Marc, “What'd you need to ask?”

“Have you seen a....uh?” Marc struggles to find a way to phrase it without making him sound insane, “Hell, you made this seem so fucking casual when you found us.” he only gets a shrug in return. Layla looking just as lost as he is when Marc looks to her for clarification.

Seeing this won't get you guys far you take over for Marc, a small mercy for everyone, “A kid, specifically my son from the future who can time travel, you seen him? Maybe Matt has an idea?”

It takes a moment of staring at you slack jawed and a bit of rapid blinking for Foggy to fully process what you've just said. And once he does he throws his hands up in the air, as if pleading with the gods for one mundane moment in life.

“Why am I even fucking surprised anymore, honestly just why?”

He distracts himself by looking over the pictures for the cabinet stand of the aquarium, before speaking up, “I haven't seen any terror running around. Assuming we are keeping this under wraps, because of a certain local DnD reject.”

The insult earns a snort from you and a grinning nod.

“Naturally.”

Shaking his head Foggy continues, “The Matt wouldn't have mentioned anything to me if he did know something. He did mention that...that...news kid...uh the one with the nice-ish camera?”

Seeing Foggy struggle on the name of the photography intern working with Karen at The Bugle, you fill in the blank.

“Parker.”

He really didn't need to look up to know what expression you held. And seeing the sullen look fills him with overwhelming guilt over not remembering such a simple name, though he vaguely remembers it isn't his fault in the first place. Still he mutters 'Parker, Parker' under his breath a few times trying to commit it to memory. Despite the fact you both know he'll eventually forget again. Just like all the other times.

“Yea...Parker. Matt said he nearly crashed into the kid on his walk to your place that first night. Says he was a mess...more so than usual.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “Not surprised, asked him to look after Coo for me.”

“Shit, that devil bird is still alive?”

“And well – thanks for asking.” he rolls his eyes at you.

“Anything else you needed?” his eyes roaming the schematics before him.

“Will Matt be back soon?”

Foggy just offers you a non-committal noise, not even bothering to look up from the new piece of wood he's grabbed, “He went to the library; been a slow week and he wanted a few audio books.” his eyes flit over to you briefly, “Apparently the 17th Street Library doesn't offer a delivery service, who knew?”

You hum once again, “Yea we don't – just something I did to keep things in circulation. Same with the free libraries we have stationed around. Plus you trust Matt in a library?”

He gives an 'alright' motion with his head. When he doesn't speak again you take that as the end of the conversation and look towards Marc and Layla, you motion them to the door.

“Thanks Foggy, promise to keep you updated...but probably not today though my phone's dead.”

“For the love of – here you two take a business card, my personal number is the first just hit six as an extension. If this idiot gets themselves – or you into any trouble just call.” Layla takes the cards and smiles at him, glancing sideways at you.

“Reassuring that they have good friends, I've known them less of a day and can already tell they're quite the handful.” her voice is full of mirth as she speaks.

Whereas Foggy's is filled with exhaustion when he replies, “Like you wouldn't believe.”

Once she catches up with you and Marc outside the door she asks, “Where to now?”

“Library.” you say simply.

“Foggy said Matt should be there – operative word being should. Doesn't hurt to look; if he's there we can ask if he's noticed anything strange around my apartment.”

You're a little surprised when Jake doesn't take over for driving instead letting Marc stay in command of the body. You have no clue how long the boys will be in your life but since they seem close to Layla it wouldn't hurt to look into DID after everything gets back to some form of normalcy. It could help you understand the trio a little better and make sure you aren't sticking your foot in your mouth around them constantly, that would be embarrassing.

You notice Marc waits for you and Layla to put your seat-belts on before he starts the car, unlike Jake who would start the car the moment he got in but refused to move until seat-belts were secured.

Marc turns to face you, Layla makes a similar move in the passenger's seat to stare back at you. It's a bit disconcerting and makes you feel like you're being taken about under a microscope. Sweat builds in the palms of your hands and your stomach feels like it's taken up macrame.

“Ok, look we've been trying it your way since we stepped foot off the plane – and to be honest we're getting no where.” Marc speaks unknowingly breaking you from the build up of an anxiety attack. Distracting you from the twisting and twirling of your stomach.

You just offer a mute nod at his pause, not sure if he wants you to speak or just listen.

Sighing he continues, “We need to think of an actual game plan. Something more than aimlessly searching in possible areas. It's taking way too long – especially the way we're going about it now; it could be too late when we do find him. He's what seven? I don't know many kids who can be out on the street for days on end without any sort of help or being nabbed.”

“I don't know what you're expecting from me. This is literally the only idea I've had.” you jump to your defense.

“Well,” Layla speaks up with a thoughtful look on her face, “you said you had a few other crime fighting friends. Could they help?”

It's a good suggestion and an earnest one but you'd be giving up a lot of identities if you did get more heroes involved. You bite your lip and find a loose thread to play with on your jeans. This was the problem with having vigilantes in your corner, even when you got some of them together for a common goal things were bound to get messy. Personalities and morals tend to clash at some point and it's a security issue to have so many people know what face to put with the name.

“I can't out them like that, or you two for that matter. A lot of them would be able to pin Scarlet Scarab and Moon Knight on to the two of you the second you showed your masked faces.”

“Listen, you don't need to give us names or home addresses. Call them, send a text. Anything to get the word out for more eyes looking for this kid.” Marc's response comes off a little rough but you can tell he's trying to be reassuring.

You pull out your phone, “Nice idea and all but my phone's still dead.” you make a show of pushing the on button.

Layla turns back around with a frown. Her brown eyes skim the below street before landing on a corner store. She barely utters out 'wait here' before she's sprinting to it leaving you and Marc in the car.

“Layla!” Marc tries to get her attention but she's a woman on a mission.

He slumps in his seat and closes his eyes as the bridge of his nose wrinkles up. You watch silently from the rear view mirror. A familiar feeling eating away at you.

You can't help but sigh as you think about what just took place in Nelson and Murdock. You really don't think a lot of things through and act recklessly. This past week alone you made Foggy and probably Matt worry, forced an added responsibility onto Peter, and got Layla and the system wrapped up in this time traveler hunt. Marc especially; the man had to deal with getting bullied in his own body by his patron of sorts. It's understandable that he's so frustrated, and he is right about the search and how it's going. You aren't too proud to admit you don't know what you're doing.

“Hey Marc,” he glances up into the mirror to lock eyes with you, it nearly makes you loose your nerve but after a moment you continue after breaking eye contact, “Sorry for dragging you guys into this. I'm not really sure what to do in this situation. I may be on good terms with a few vigilantes but...I've never been on this side of the mission before. As soon as we find the kid you don't have to stick around. I know what Khonshu said but future me only said I needed Layla's help finding the kid not sending him home.”

When your eyes lock again you see that the stern look in his eyes had softened a bit, the crease in his forehead and nose were gone. The man in the driver's seat was still tense but he looked like he wasn't as stressed as a moment before.

He doesn't say anything though and you're both left in comfortable silence as you wait for Layla to return. It isn't a long wait though and she returns with a car charger in hand.

“Here give me your phone, I figured that mini mart down there would have even a crappy portable charger for us to use.” you hand over your phone easily and she plugs it in.

Once everyone's buckled up again, Marc drives out to the library.

“Hell's kitchen more like Hell's parking lot. Where the fuck do you even go – what's that guy doing...is that even legal?!” Marc's been ranting for three minutes on the lack of parking, you really want to suggest he let Jake take control since he hadn't had an issue – though if you're being fair Jake had a parking garage near the firm. So instead you keep your mouth shut.

“Marc look to the right, what about there – think it's a spot?”

Your eyes land on the section Layla's talking about, it's an open area near a cafe on the other side of the street. By the time you spin around to get to it, it'll be taken.

“Nah, just keep straight we've gotta hit something on this side at some point.”

“How the hell do you live here?” you just shake your head before going back to your phone and texting Matt.

Marc's eyes are focused on the road and scanning the area like a hawk for any opening. Actively cursing Jake out for his stupid idea to rent a car in a city where parking isn't always available; when a flash of tan and orange catches his eye. A fluffy tabby just sitting proud and tall on the black top near the edge of the side walk. The cat looked like it was waiting for something and no one seemed to notice it. One thing Marc did notice was the spot it was in was large enough for the van to pull into. Hoping the cat wouldn't have a fearless attitude and would move on once the car came near he made move to take the spot.

The cat elegantly stood up and hopped onto the side walk and sat patiently staring up into the windows. Layla having seen the whole thing eyes the cat carefully and didn't make any moves to get out of the car.

“Is it me or it that cat...waiting for something?” she asks not taking her eyes off the long haired tabby.

“It's still over there?” Marc asks as he unbuckles his seat-belt and tries to crane his neck to see over her window.

Looking up from your phone you notice the cat.

“Oh don't worry, that's Horus, he's like the library's pet. Probably hunting for someone to let him back in. Foot traffic's slow this time of day.” you scoot towards the right hand door and step out.

You catch Steven's mirthful musing of 'a cat named after a bird and god of the sky', just before you step fully out of the van. The second you're out Horus comes over brushing up against your legs and cooing up at you. You squat down as Layla and Marc get out and come up to the two of you. Upon seeing the new arrivals Horus goes right on up to Layla and brushed up against her without even sniffing. She passes the vibe check, honestly it's hard to fail a Horus vibe check – you've only seen it happen a few times. Made sure to stay clear of those few.

“Aww he's cute. He just lives at the library?” Layla asks scratching the top of his head and looking at you.

“Pretty much. His decision. We've tried to take him home a few times but he's thrown genuine hissy fits when taken away from the area, or even brought into one of those apartments about three blocks back.” The cat didn't have a mean bone in his body but the second you tried taking him way from the library he turned down right feral.

Marc's hands ball up at his sides and twitch occasionally as he unclenches and clenches his fists. He stiffens when Horus locks on to him and walks away from you and Layla to rub all over Marc's jeans. You smile knowingly because Horus is known for finding cat lovers and milking all the attention he can get. It's always a treat to see how fast big tough grizzly men fall to the feet of the overly friendly cat. Meanwhile Layla is surprised to see just how friendly the cat is with Marc, she knows most animals have a weird reaction to the system. It's the main reason Steven keeps a goldfish, despite suspecting all three men have a love for cats.

But watching the man now even he was surprised at the cat currently loving all on him. You however took his shock as nerves. “Don't worry he's super friendly. He normally does this when he wants to be held. Just pick him up like you would burp a baby. He'll be in heaven.”

Marc opens his mouth to say something before his jaw clicks shut and he goes stiff before swooping in and picking up Horus, just like you said to. His hand even went behind the cat's ears and began giving them a good scratching. Horus of course ate up all the attention and was purring up a storm, just watching the two left you grinning. You loved this cat dearly and would never get tired of watching him shamelessly beg for affection.

Layla was also left smiling knowing that the system was probably having the time of their lives. She'd have snagged a picture if she knew Marc or Jake wouldn't ruin the moment after she got caught.

When Marc spent a few minutes longer than anyone else would spend holding Horus you figured all the men were taking their turns with the cat. A cat who certainly didn't mind all the attention, furthering your belief that he is a ragdoll mix of some sort. But you were still technically on a mission and needed to move things along.

“Alright let's get a move on, Horus wants in the library so you can just keep holding him till one of you gets tired with this arrangement you've got. Fair warning Horus never gets tired.” the small tease you threw in was so worth it to see the way those brown eyes lit up and glittered with excitement.

It was a pure unadulterated joy that shone through and it warmed your chest to see, the added endearment of Horus purring so loudly was nearly drowning you in a wave of unending cuteness. The scene so sweet you were sure to be left with a mouth full of cavities, your molars practically tingled at the thought.

This time you held the door open for Layla and Marc who was still holding Horus. Stepping through the door you took out you phone to check if Matt replied yet. Though it was useless to check when a soft muted tapping sound reached your ears. Barely glancing up you spot Matt on his way over to the three of you. Layla noticing his approach and thinking you were too involved with your phone to notice the blind man walking towards you gently grasp your arm and guides you off to the side of the entrance. You send a small questioning glance her way, confused by her actions, before Matt gets close enough to tap the end of his cane with your shoe. He does it a few more times, like he always did; you think he just does it to get a laugh out of you.

It doesn't fail to make you smile, your head snapping and shaking a little at a stim from the sudden burst of excitement. Even though he can't see your reaction when he hears the small laugh that leaves you he smiles.

Such a dork.

“There you are, I'd ask what took so long but I can hear someone's powered up Horus.” Matt says bringing his cane back up.

“Yea, we got jumped the second we stepped out of the car.” you pause before starting in on the introductions, “Oh, by the way these are my new friends Layla,”

She takes your pause as her cue to speak, “Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, sorry you've been dragged around by this one.” he taps you again with his cane, then sticks his hand out for her to shake.

“It's certainly been...an experience. Also this is Marc, his hands are full at the moment.” she says taking Matt's hand.

When Marc doesn't say anything you look over, a little nervous that he may not be the one fronting at the moment. You aren't sure who's fronting at the moment, their focus is entirely on the cat in their arms.

Looking back to Matt you can see the wrinkling of his forehead, he must have heard the tremor of anxiety in your heartbeat. Or did he hear some sort of internal shift with the system, did each man have a different heartbeat? It wouldn't be too strange if they all breathed differently, that may be more plausible than a change in heartbeat.

“Sorry seems he's preoccupied with Horus, you know how it is.” you joke, trying to seem like you aren't worried but you can never fool Matt.

A part of you wonders if you should have prepared them for meeting Matt; though you trust Matt to not say anything hell the man knows all heroes in the city and their identities and has never uttered a word to Foggy or you – the one who at least knows three mutual acquaintances of his. But right now you aren't sure if Matt is even able to tell of a shift in the system, or if it's something else he's concerned about. You aren't too personable so it isn't often you're found traveling with strangers. And who knows what Foggy may have told him.

Keeping information from your friends really hurts your head. It'd be so much simpler if everyone knew the vigilante thing and the DID thing but none of those tidbits of information are yours to share, so hidden they stay. Navigating the social structure of who'll be mad when everything inevitably comes out is so tedious and is starting to make you more than a little queasy.

“Can't blame him, Horus is a charmer.”

It may be you projecting but the way Matt says him makes you suspect he already knows. When will this man figure out he's not gonna get away with everything just because he's blind, there's only so many times 'just a hunch' will work for him. Matt's like the worst liar you know; it's really surprising Spiderman and Deadpool haven't figured out who he is yet...it's a bit obvious with the context.

“Oh and here I thought I was special.” Marc sasses the tabby to only get a head bonk in return.

Your lung feel like they can work properly again.

Marc smiles at the cat before putting him down on the floor, trying to get back on track. Only for Horus to keep demanding his attention by rubbing between his legs whilst purring like a little steam engine and flopping over exposing his belly. Tempting Marc in for more pets.

Marc has to stay strong, no matter how much Jake begs to pet the cat one more time.

'It's never just one more, with you and a cat Jake.'

'Bitch.'

Marc greets Matt, eyes raking over the other man, locking onto his cane and giving a side glance towards you for a moment. Your poker face is decent but your eyes show you're nervous clearly.

Matt's head tilts to the side ear closest to you turned slightly higher with a small twitch as he picks up the increase pulsing of your heartbeat. He suspects you may have said a few things that just didn't add to your new companions.

“I think you'd like to know I nearly tripped on a misplaced book coming to meet you.”

Breaking you from your spiral you can only groan out, “Parker?”

Matt chuckles, “Probably, semester just started after all. I assume that's why you divvied up the house sitting.” Matt of course catches the way Layla's breath evens out and tension leaves Marc.

You mutely nod before answering, “Yea, that and the kid needs the money, he's too proud to take it without working.” you sigh before asking, “Science section?”

“Surprisingly.” Matt chuckles lifting his hand out in front of him again.

You easily guide it to your elbow for him to grasp and say, “Come on then.” Layla and Marc follow close behind.

Once you get to the aforementioned section you just have to follow the trail of chaos towards an isle that reveals the disheveled brunette.

“Peter Parker, you are aware we have tables, right? And please at least put back the books when you're done skimming. I've lost track of how many times I've told you this.” you sigh looking at his mess. A mix of workbooks, textbooks, notebooks, two library issued ipads and library books strewn about haphazardly.

“He-hey, you're back, that was quick. Wha – no when'd you get tables here, fancy.” he whistles out the last word but it dies down as he sees your unamused expression.

“C'mon no one comes down these isles we both know that, plus I'm still using these see – marked my place in those.” he gestures to a couple of books by your feet and you can see the cheap pale sticky notes marking various spots in the books.

Your shoulders relax as you look at the man just a few years younger than yourself. Hair a mess, clothes wrinkled with crumbs of his morning bodega breakfast sandwich still on them. You know school's been far from rough for the kid despite going through his second semester of college alone and his extra circulars. All this studying is for his own personal projects, he's been trying his hardest to follow in his mentor's footsteps. It breaks your heart because the kid could've had so much better, could be doing bigger better projects had things gone a little differently. Had they actually been worked out.

Sighing you hold out the hand that wasn't attached to the arm Matt was holding, “Gimme your phone, I still owe you for babysitting. How was he?” Peter's hazel eyes look at you with confusion, you normally lecture him a bit more so the sudden change is a bit jarring but he's not about to complain. Handing you his phone without question you open it to your account to transfer a little more than what you promised him for watching your bird. Before closing out and handing it back to him.

“Oh yea, no, he was fine. Was kind of a shock to find him just like in the middle of your apartment though. Really freaked me out, was not expecting that you know, a warning woulda been nice.”

You snort a bit, Coo had been messing with the lock of his cage for a few weeks now so of course he'd finally pick it when you were gone. Looks like you'll have to switch his lock, again.

“Honestly thought it was weird you hadn't just taken him with you, but we figured things out eventually. He's very smart and pretty independent which has been fantastic – don't get me wrong though I still left him with May when I went to class. Also she's gonna have several questions for you next time she sees you.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, “Peter you didn't have to do all that, I'm sure he would've been fine on his own for a bit. Is he with May now, I can probably swing by and pick him up later tonight...maybe I have some things to take care of still – so like technically not back yet.:

Peter blinks owlishly at you before his face contorts into a confused shock, “uuhm – now I have several concerns. But no he's not with May. I thought he could use sometime out of the apartment and brought him out here with me. “

“Like to the library?” he nods confused by your confusion, “Peter, why would you bring a pigeon into the library?”

It takes a moment for Peter to respond, his brain slowly catching up to the train you'd just been on, before dropping the bomb.

“I – are you talking about Coo? I was suppose to be watching your bird?!”

When it sunk in that Peter hadn't been talking about Coo you took off. Leaving the group behind without a single word. Matt had felt the shift in your muscles just before you ran and had let go, not wanting to get dragged down in your haste or slow you down. Peter scrambled to get off the floor and to follow after you, and while Layla had taken the time to guide Matt, Marc was running close behind you. Not wanting to loose sight in case something happened.

The library was fairly large and the children's section was on the second floor so you'd had to run up a flight of stairs. He had been right under your noses for a full twenty minutes and you weren't about to loose him. Though it was frustrating to know that he'd just been with the Parkers for the past few days you were relieved to know he hadn't been in any danger. Stars knew the crimes May would commit to keep a child safe, and a child she deemed family even more so.

Speeding to the children's section you round the decorative archways, letter blocks with open books tilted on to a tip, to find the small isles empty. The stage bare and quiet, it was a school day in the middle of fall so it wasn't unusual. As you stepped further inside and checked the homework station you still turned up empty. It was when you passed on of the smaller reading nooks, meant on for a single kid, that you spotted him.

In your rush you'd almost flown by him, your sudden stop almost had Marc careen into you. When he caught your line of sight he froze. There he was tucked into the reading nook, all cozy in his red and blue windbreaker that matched the primary colored walls surrounding him. But his warm toned golden skin and dark curls stuck out to you.

You took in every aspect of him that you could, you had never seen this child before and you worked near exclusively in this department of the library for the last three years. From the moment you saw the concentrated look on his face as he read you felt as if you'd known him forever. There was a stinging behind your eyes and a weight in your chest – you'd been detached from this mission until this moment. Everything was hitting you all at once, it finally felt real and you felt acutely aware of the world actively spinning around you the moment his large brown eyes met yours.

His eyes widening at your sudden appearance, book forgotten as it threatened to slip out of his hands, but he made no move to move or say anything. A growing fear was visible on his face as his eyes flickered between the two of you, an anxiety that was eating away at him with every passing second that you stayed quiet. You could see it in the way he curled into himself to make himself smaller.

It all washed away when you whispered a single word, a name.

“Mateo.”

His reaction was instant, as he leapt off the seat and ran towards you. Tears budding and spilling out of his eyes as he ran into your arms and wept. For you it had been a few days of knowing about and searching for a future you didn't know for him it'd been the first time he'd seen a parent in days, it didn't matter to him that you didn't actually know him yet – all that mattered was you were here. You meant safety and comfort to him, and soon he'd be back home in his own time.

By the time Layla, Matt, and Peter arrived to this hidden little corner they were met with you gently swaying side to side with a crying child buried deep in your arms. An anxious and faint looking Steven standing awkwardly to the side, who kept stealing glances at you and the child before swallowing hard and looking at anything else. Only to steal more glances every few seconds.

“Is this a bad time to bring up that your pigeon did bite me?”

#The moon and the stars #moon knight fanfic #Marcspector/reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector/reader #Steven Grant/Reader #steven grant x reader #JakeLockley/Reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley x reader #accidental child acquisition #Moonknightfanfic #moonknight fanfic #autistic reader insert #autistic system #autisitic jake lockley #autistic steven grant #autistic marc spector

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eventheodds · 8 months

Note

care,sender takes care of receiver when they're sick. (also, hello! o/)

actions speak louder than words.

She’d given Roberto and Wolfwood so much grief about their smoking, even threatening to take their packs away from them—Wolfwood glaring down at her, daring her to even try and Roberto giving her the “Ain’t gonna happen, newbie” schpiel whenever she got like this about their smoking habits—that she was the one who ended up being sick.

No one seemed to mind that this put a cog in their plans on getting to their next destination and, if she didn’t know any better, there seemed to be a ambiance of relief when they all unanimously decided to stop.

Meryl being Meryl, would have continued on had it not been for Roberto’s voice of reasoning, clipped as it’d been, and Vash was quick to back him up and even spotted a place they could rest while one fourth of their rag tag group needed her rest.

To say it strange that she had three people caring for her while she overcame this bout of sickness wouldn’t be far from the truth. While not a complete novelty, Meryl had always been one to look after herself. Ensuring she was in ship shape was something of a mandate for her.

The room is…well, it’s a room. The bed is barely big enough for two people, but neither of them made any qualms about taking the floor or couch—Roberto being the one to sleep on the couch, though it seemed far less comfortable. And she must’ve really caught something because she’s managed to sleep through their snores.

Even now, she’s wondering how to blame herself for not being careful enough.

A soft knock at the door pulls her from her thoughts and Vash steps in, holding a tray with a rather large bowl placed at its centre, along with a few other food items around it. No doubt he found a place that would serve a hot meal that he could bring to her—the saloon not having much in the way of food rather than just snacks and finger food. The idea of eating anything doesn’t sit well with her, but she knows Vash is going to fuss if she doesn’t.

She doesn’t even have it in her to make him plead—not that she would. At least, not too much.

“You strong enough to eat a little something?”

He’s hopeful in the way he speaks, like he thinks her being sick is his fault somehow. It doesn’t go unnoticed the way her heart twinges at the thought that he’d find a way to blame himself for this.

“…not really, but I know you’re not gonna give up.”

“Yep!”

He closes the door behind him, the sounds and noises from out there muffled once more as his footsteps approach the bed and the chair that had been placed beside it. She remembers, at some point, one of them was sitting at her bedside because of the fever that just wouldn’t break. She’d thought it’d been a dream, but it clearly wasn’t.

The soup does have an aroma that opens her appetite a little, but the second it does she can feel that wave of nausea overcoming her and she turns her head away, unable to think about stomaching any food, much less look at it.

“C’mon Meryl, I know it’s tough now but you gotta eat something.”

She takes a moment to catch her breath. “I know, I know…I just…I really can’t right now.”

She wants to turn on her side, face away from him, and try to fall back asleep, but none of those things are happening and she doesn’t have it in her to force herself.

“Here, these might help and they’ll be easy to eat.” He places two wrapped packages of soda crackers on her lap. She’d seen plenty of these at the university’s cafeteria whenever she chanced to go there. There was never a lack of supply of these things and she also remembers stuffing as many as she could into her pockets to snack on back in her room.

They’re bland and easy to eat, and something that might help get her energy back in increments.

“Can you open the packages? I don’t think I can right now,” she says and there’s a slight disbelief in her voice at this fact. She must’ve really caught something to make her feel this shitty.

“Of course,” he says, like it’s not a problem at all, like he would’ve done so and she needn’t have asked. The crinkling of the wrappers is a familiar sound and Meryl takes one of the crackles and nibbles on it. The salt hits her tongue immediately and she takes another bite, then another, until one cracker is done and she starts on the second.

It’s not much, and the soup might end up going to waste unless Vash eats it himself, but the look of relief on his face at her eating something, even as small as a few crackers, is enough to make her feel that twinge in her heart again.

#typhoonvash #answered.#hello! :D #verse: stampede

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lady-noremon · 9 months

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This is my Nicolas!

When I rescued him he was loaded with parasites, had FVR, very malnourished, and the end of his tail was broken. Now he is a 13 year old potato cat.

He goes to bed with me most nights, and likes to put his paw in my hand to hold. He is obsessed with treats and will play my mother especially when she visits pretending he has never had a treat. He loves his little sister Lydia and is the main reason I kept her (she's the black cat in the pictures. My late Minnow is the torbie). He is very playful, but only does spurts of energy before flopping (as if his legs gave out, or a tipped over cow) in the middle of the floor. He always wants to sit on purses/handbags visitors bring, and I have so many pictures over the years of him laying on or trying to get inside them.

He likes to sleep on his back and adores his belly, chest, and under his chin rubbed. He has short legs and can't jump very high, his small limbs and head making his body look huge in comparison (but he actually is average size). He is leash trained and loves being tied out on a lead in order to eat grass and sleep on the lawn. Sleeping in general is one of his favourite activities, and he likes to make blanket nests to bury himself in even in our humid hot summers. He ADORES Christmas and opening presents, and gets super excited when they get a MeowBox. He doesn't seem to realise he is no longer tiny sized and tries to cram himself into small boxes or areas he really can fit in. He really likes my mom (even without treats), and is the most my cat-my cat I have had.

He has an annoying habit of wailing when he wants something like to go out in the porch, or if one of the people I board with have a door shut. It is very loud and high-pitched. He also trills while playing or in a good mood. Stangely his normal meow is very clipped and quiet though.

We knew from a baby he had knee and hip issues (his knees turn in a bit), the vet at the time figured it was either a birth defect or with malnourishment, but we learnt with a recent X-ray his last few vertebrae are a bit wonky too. He has medicated baths because of allergies/skin issues, but he just stands and lets himself be washed (I figure it feels good/relief). He also has some urinary issues triggered by stress and especially dogs (the place he was born at had aggressive dogs) so we try really hard to avoid them (which causes people to get mad because no dogs are allowed in my residence). He loves meeting other cats though, especially kittens. We recently started him on arthritis medication and he has been annoying his sister wanting to play a lot more again.

He gags or has no interest in most "people food" including tuna, but he does occasionally like small pieces of cheese. He will steal cake icing however! Him and Lydia often eat out of the same bowls of cat food together. They also bath each other, alternating to trying to bite each others ears, before bathing again. If one of them gets scared of something then they both get scared. He is named after the Vampire Chronicles character 🙈

He is just such a sweet little boy!

#Brats

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whumpering-heights · 1 year

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Guard Dog AU Chapter 1: Sarah and Lloyd's first meeting

MASTERLIST

CW: past stalking, death mention (no major characters), brief drugs mention, depression, PTSD

[A/N: This is an AU fic for the Shaperaverse. It's fully written, but since i dont wish to link my AO3 account on this blog, I'll publish the chapters individually. I'll post them every other day) I'll put extra CONTEXT at the bottom of the posts, if needed.

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Sarah was sorely disappointed. ��

She’d come to this dimension, a gloomy edwardian place, following some reports about a mad death cult that didn’t sound very bright. If she’d been able to get them under her control, it would have lended her some much-needed protection. Her powers had a bad habit of flaking when she needed them most: like it could tell when it’d be most dramatic to fail. She’d pull through eventually, but she strongly disliked being reliant on narrative tension this way. So, she’d need an additional power, some kind of backup. A group that was both stupid and dangerous would have been perfect for that. But the cult had proven a literal dead end. When she finally found their rather gruesome base, it looked abandoned. Food was left out: they’d expected to be back soon, but never did.

Sarah sulked as she stood at the entrance of the foul-smelling lair. Drugs, rotten food, and various ritual objects were strewn about the floor. She glanced at one of the mad scribblings laying on the table, expecting some crazed, nonsensical rant. What she found instead, made her do a double take.

It seemed to be a schedule, detailing the weekly routine of this guy called Lloyd Allen. It covered what time he went to work, his address, and even his usual bedtime. There was a photo clipped to the paper, showing a dapper man with glasses. The blurry picture seemed to be taken from around the corner of a building, the man seemingly unaware of his photographer.

Sarah did not envy the guy. She had no clue why this cult would take such an interest in him, but it couldn't have ended well for him. Out of morbid curiosity, she ventured deeper into the dirty den, half-expecting to find his severed head on an altar. Instead, she found even more info. It seemed he had more bite than they’d expected.

There were quite a few makeshift shrines, seeming like memorials for deceased members. Warnings were scribbled on walls, like demented post-it notes. “Remember to attack before he sees you”, “he has knifs in bed: not safe!” “RIP Jerry: we’ll get him eventualy!!”

Sarah hummed appreciatively. If she was reading this correctly, this Lloyd fellow fought back well. He might even be the reason this place was abandoned. She looked at the paper she was still holding, and read the address again. Maybe this trip wouldn’t end up a waste, anyway.

-------------------------------------------------------

Lloyd would have to get groceries soon.

He really didn’t want to, though.

For one, it would mean getting out of bed. That was getting harder every day. He was being disgusting, he knew that. His bedding had be replaced, it stank. Every bit that touched his skin made him want to scrub himself with steel wool. And yet, he stayed, gripping his cold blade until it was as warm as he: as though his blood pumped through it, too.

He knew he’d have to eat, eventually. But everything just tasted like ash. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to afford anything. He hadn’t gone to work since dealing with the cult, he must be fired by now. He had some savings, but not that much. Lord knew he’d rather starve than ask his father for any aid, though. Ha, like he’d even grant it. Then again, wasting away in his bed would be a rather pathetic way to go, after all he’d been through.

He shuddered, nauseous. He just couldn’t bear to go outside right now. The fear that one of them had survived was just too great. Every pair of eyes on him made him feel like a prey animal in an open field. He didn’t want to get up. What was the point? Just as then, his ears perked up.

Someone was walking down the hall outside his door. It didn’t sound like one of neighbors: he knew their footsteps well at this point. A guest for them, maybe? The steps were slow, like they weren’t sure where to go. Possibly counting the apartment numbers.

Lloyd’s worst-case scenario came true, when the steps stopped in front of his door. He felt his skin prickle with worry, which peaked as the first knock came on the door. He gripped his blade tighter.

After a moment of silence, where he felt his heartbeat in his throat, the knock returned, more insistent.

Something shifted back into place within Lloyd.

He’d been holding his breath for weeks, waiting for a missed threat to find him. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. This must be it. Be attacked, neutralize the treat: it was a familiar pattern. The adrenaline, wariness and anger felt like coming home.

He got up, somewhat woozy, and peered through the peephole.

In the hallway stood an impatient looking young woman, about his age.

He was surprised. She didn’t look like a cult member. Her eyes were clear and sober, for one. Her attire was unusual, unlike any fashion he’d seen. Had he been retreated from social life long enough for silhouettes to change again? At least it wasn’t a dark robe. If she wasn’t a cult member, what could she possibly want with him? She was squinting at the peephole, and must have seen the way it went dark as Lloyd looked through it. She visibly perked up.

“Ah, I knew it! Lloyd Allen, is it?”

Lloyd didn’t know what to say, so stayed silent. She knew his name, as well as address. Bad signs, even if she wasn’t a cultist. Still, Lloyd was struck by her friendly, open expression. When was the last time someone had smiled at him? When was the last time he’d spoken to someone, in general? He didn’t really track his days in here, it all blurred together. The girl wasn’t deterred by his silence, and spoke sympathetically. “My name is Sarah McKiggan. I understand you had a rather nasty experience recently. I’m very sorry you had to go through that. I would like to offer my help, if you need any.”

Lloyd blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

“I..” He cleared his throat to get rid of some of the rusty hoarseness and tried again. It was only marginally better. “I-I don’t need help. Who are you, how do you know about me?”

His thumb rubbed the edge of the handle. Sarah didn’t seem unnerved by his wary tone.

“Oh, I’m not from here. But I heard about the cult, and they seemed like such nasty people. I came all the way here, hoping to find a way to get rid of them, but it seems you’ve beat me to the punch. Very nicely done, by the way! That must not have been easy. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s really impressive.”

Lloyd hadn’t really considered what he’d done to be worthy of praise: he’d acted desperately, erratically. Only vengeange had pushed him to be proactive. Still, the strange girl’s appreciation soothed a childish part of his ego. It had been difficult, and he’d executed his plan, and the cultists, perfectly.

“I, well. Thank you?” he answered, somewhat flustered. If she was speaking the truth, and really disliked the cult as much as he did, perhaps she wasn’t a threat? It felt strange to even consider. There was something odd about her, though. Mostly, her odd dress and hairstyle. “Where are you from, exactly?” She smilled, like it was a silly question. “That’s kinda a long story. Do you want me to tell you my whole deal in this hallway, or may I come in and sit?”

“Uh.” Lloyd looked back at his apartment. Even if he did feel comfortable letting someone in, which he wasn’t sure he was, he couldn’t bear to let anyone see this mess. After surviving this whole ordeal, he’d still die: of shame. Redfaced, he turned back, and the words stumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. “Actually, uhm, I’d prefer not. If you’d allow me a short while to wash up, I can go outside, instead?”

He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but the idea of a possible ally was too tempting. He missed company sorely, and it was just one person: if she did turn out to be a threat, he was confident he could manage.

“Sure,” Sarah said brightly. “I’ll be down in the lobby.”

---------

Sarah bounced her foot, annoyed. The guy must have a very different definition of “a short while”. At long last, he appeared down the central staircase.

He looked a lot more haggard than in his picture. His hair was overgrown and dull, and there were big bags under his eyes. His sunken cheeks had the pallor of someone who hasn’t seen the sun in recent memory. His clothes, though fashionable for this time period, weren’t ironed. She could see some old wounds, peeking from under the neck of his shirt, and on his left hand. Defensive wounds. They were mostly healed, but would scar.

The most noteworthy part of his appearance, though, was the sword he kept on his belt. It looked to be a saber. Sarah raised a brow. This place was vaguely Edwardian, she hadn’t seen anyone else carry a weapon like this. “I thought we could speak somewhere while we eat,” she nodded at the blade. “but I doubt they’ll let you in with that?”

Lloyd looked down, as though he was only noticing it himself. “Oh, that. Uh. I’ve never had issues with it before, when I went outside.” He looked Sarah over quickly. “Besides, you’re hardly dressed appropriately for daywear, yourself. I’m very curious where your fashion is from.”

Sarah blinked in surprise. “Wait. You can tell I look strange?”

Lloyd hesitated. “...I didn’t mean to offend, but yes? It’s rather obvious.”

Now that was a development. Sarah’s powers allowed her to use all sorts of abilities, not all of them consciously. One odd perk she’d found, was that she wasn’t noticed by natives of any narrative, if she didn’t wish to be. They didn’t note her modern dress and hairstyle, no matter where, or when, she went. As long as she didn’t think too hard about it, it worked.

She eyed Lloyd’s blade, gears turning. Could it be she wasn’t the only one with this ability? Come to think of it, she could pick up something on him: a slight frequency, one that matched up with her own.

Interesting. Very interesting, indeed.

She smiled sharply.

“Well, you’re familiar here: why don’t you place we can go to eat in privacy. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

---------------------

CONTEXT: the "powers" will get explained in the next chapter. A "narrative" is another world, like a dimension. (there's an uncountable number of those). There is very little info on the "death cult" in canon. They had a "reason" to attack Lloyd, but that is a very long story. They also attacked his boyfriend Matt, who Lloyd wasn't able to save.

#whump #past stalking #death mention (no major characters)#brief drugs mention #depression cw #PTSD CW #whumplr #my writing #my stuff #guard dog AU

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ladowasnthere · 1 year

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Random Prompts Combinatios #1:

DIY Projectile Removal + Gotta Stay Quiet To Avoid Discovery + Tight Spaces

Work: Whenever We Are

Characters: Ein and Zwei

CW/TW: Blood, DIY Stitches, Descriptions of injury (specifically crossbow bolt wounds and the removal of said bolt), Needles, Swearing, Guns (small mention)

A/N: I didn't mean for it to be this long, nor for it to take so long, but I have a habit of getting carried away, especially when it comes to these two. This was honestly, like most of my works, one great big ramble, if there's any mistakes, or something I need to add to the CW/TW list, please let me know.

Zwei yanked Ein into the narrow opening, one hand over their mouth while the other was pressed around the crossbow bolt sticking out of their bloodstained torso.

He stood still for a moment, keeping their bodies pressed close as he listened for footsteps in the hall outside. They came and went, a two pairs of shoes heavy and rushed against the cold stone floor of the cave. Once they passed, Zwei turned Ein around, stuffing their tall figure into the corner farthest from the cubby's entrance.

Ein protested of course, their wings and legs bent at what had to be uncomfortable angles as they were forced to lie somewhat flat in the small space. Zwei had barely any space to properly sit beside Ein but he made it work, even if he was forced to hunch over them.

Zwei removed his hand from Ein's mouth and a pained groan fell from their lips the moment he did. Ein bit their bottom lip to avoid making anymore involuntary noises and Zwei busied himself with the immoral's gear.

There was unfortunately no time for gentleness, so Zwei forced himself to ignore the various whimpers and whines of pain that escaped Ein's notice, nor could he slow down when noticed the way their body trembled with discomfort.

This was meant to be easy reconnaissance mission, however, the rookie Ein had been paired with set off an alarm, alerting the enemy of their presence. Ein had managed to get the rookie and a few other soldiers out of the underground base and to safety, but not without taking a couple hits themself.

Since their only other way of escape had left with the rest of the squad on Zwei's order, that left him and Ein with only one option left: Flight.

But then Ein took a crossbow bolt to the torso, and there was no way in hell Zwei could fly both himself and someone injured, winged, and taller than him to a safe distance at a reasonable speed.

This meant Ein had to fly themselves out, which they simply couldn't do with bolt sticking out of their lower ribcage. Which brings the duo here: an extremely cramped hidy-hole where Zwei was preforming emergency surgery.

Zwei had successfully removed Ein's chestplate and unzipped their suit, now his hand was hovered over the dark skin of their torso around the bolt. The bleeding wasn't too bad yet, but Zwei had already fished some gauze and a pre-threaded needle out of his first aid kit. Ein paled when they saw it.

"You're fucking kidding me."

They hissed under their breath, giving the general a hard glare. Zwei fished a lighter from one of his pockets, using it to bend the metal of the needle.

"Gauze isn't going to do shit for something this deep. I'm not killing you over something this small."

Zwei's response was clipped and monotone. The shuffling of clothing was heard and Ein held back a yelp when Zwei suddenly stuffed his gloves into their mouth.

"I apologize in advance."

That was all the warning Ein received before Zwei suddenly yanked the bolt out with a single fluid motion.

Their body tensed, shaking violently as their eyes immediately widened and their jaw clenched around the gloves. Zwei was suddenly grateful for his foresight of putting the gloves in Ein's mouth, else they might’ve bitten their tongue clean off.

Zwei worked a lot faster after that. He was fully hunched over Ein's bare torso, one hand quickly cleaning the area in the best way he could manage while the other brought the needle up. Fortunately, the size of the bolt wasn't that big, it was long and tapered without a proper arrowhead, so the hole itself wasn't very large either.

Zwei pressed the needle into Ein's skin with a practiced steadiness and curved it through as smoothly as possible. He was working off of nothing but the flashlight attached to his chestplate and tried his best to work with Ein's trembling form. When he had fully pulled the line through, he tied it three times before cutting it and moving to re-thread the needle.

When he finished he resumed his position over Ein's body, but paused again upon seeing their fists at their sides. They were clenched so tightly, their nails drew blood from their palm. Zwei furrowed hid brow and wordlessly moved their hands to his (mostly) free arm, he also spared a glance at their face, but quickly refocused on his work upon seeing it.

He would dutifully ignore the tears pooling in the corners of their clouded eyes. Their body was in the present, but Zwei could tell their mind was somewhere farther back. He didn't want to be the reason they had to relieve unpleasant memories. Ein's fingers dug bruises into his arm, but Zwei continued working.

Things were going smoothly until the last stitch. Ein's body had stopped shaking as much, allowing Zwei to work faster. However, right as he began to press the needle through for the final stitch, he heard footsteps approaching their little alcove.

Zwei quickly turned out his light and froze in place. The steps stopped besides the entrance of the space and Zwei cursed internally. Then he heard voices. Two of the patrol men were currently having a conversation outside of their cubby. There was a curtain covering the entrance that blended the opening into its surroundings, but they'd find it if they were looking.

Fuck.

Zwei couldn't stop now, they were almost done. Instead, he leaned in close to Ein, right beside their ear.

"Stay as quiet as possible. Guards outside."

Ein nodded, and Zwei moved back down to their torso. He leaned in closer, trying to see in the now dim light. He pushed the needle into the skin, but unlike the last four stitches, this one didn't go in as easily. Zwei frowned, realizing he'd have to force this one. He breathed, still able to clearly hear the guards outside.

Zwei held the skin with one hand while the other pressed the needle into it. Ein jerked at the sudden pressure, and their fingers (which had been close to relaxed) gripped his arm tightly.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺. He spoke to himself internally.

Another jab. Ein's fingers dug deeper.

𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

Another. Their body tensed.

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦.

Zwei gave one final, insistent dig before the skin gave way.

"Did you hear that?"

A small cry had escaped the muffle of the gloves. They both froze.

"Yeah, don't know where it came from though."

"But it sounded close didn't it? Kinda behind us."

Zwei's free arm pried it's way out of Ein's grip and slowly moved to the handgun on his thigh.

"What? How can you tell all that? I barely even noticed it."

"I could just, like- I could just tell alright? You don't need to sound so judgy."

"I'm not-"

"𝘏𝘦𝘺!"

A third voice, loud and authoritative, ordered the pair of guards back to their stations. Zwei let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, but he didn't dare move until the sound of footsteps had came and went. Zwei pinched his eyes closed, breathed, then opened them again. He switched the flashlight back on and finished Ein's last stitch.

After being given the clear, Ein slowly maneuvered themselves upright before zipping their suit back up and replacing their body armor. Zwei busied himself with making sure there was no trace of the two of them left in the tight space. Once done, Zwei stood and poked his head out of the opening, looking up and down the hall for any sign of a guard. Finding no one, he turned to Ein.

"Ready?"

Ein met Zwei's gaze, and if they hadn't known each other for as long as they had Zwei might’ve missed the crease in their brow or the way they bit the inside of their cheek.

(His heart ached with their pain, truly it did.)

"Yeah. Let's go."

And they went.

#creative writing #original story #writeblr #short story #whenever we are #Ein #Zwei #random prompts #random prompt combinations

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just-plenty-of-prompts · 2 years

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Hi, sorry, I really love your writing! You're very descriptive. Could you maybe do a character creation? I'd love to see what a character from you looks like.

say hello to character yellow, this is one I made a while back, I plan on making a character themed by each color, though my PC is busted and I'm waiting to fix it before I'd go on.

I hope you like her~

She enjoys watching leaves fall from a tree, she smiles when she hears kids laugh, she closes her eyes and hums softly when the music reaches her ears. With an eye for art and a love for nature Xania Sared is a happy soul

“Do you know what the word apricity means? It's a word that represents the warmth of the sun during winter, it’s my favorite word because it reminds me that even during the coldest winters, the sun is still there. It might be hard to feel but it’s not gone, just wait and the blessed heat will be back on your skin,”

Name: Xania Sared

Nickname: Nia.

Nia was a character in a popular children's show when Xania was young, it featured a teen who explored the world, and saved countless people through her travels, the teen was confident and cheerful. Xania’s friends always teased her about being similar to the character and started calling her by the last half of her name, due to it being the same as the character's first name.

Character Alignment: Lawful good, Xania is a good person by heart and was raised to hold the law in high regard, she’s not the type to break them for any reason and has a lot of faith in authority figures.

Eye color: A striking rich brown that shines hazel when it reflects light.

Body/build: Due to Xiania’s active lifestyle, she has a rather slim build with simple muscle mass, nothing over the top, and no abs but she looks fit and in good health.

Height: 163 cm Skin: Pale peach, she’s no snow-white but she burns pretty badly.

Face Features: She has an oval-shaped face, with high cheekbones and a small scattering of freckles.

Hair color: Brown Hair description: Her hair is rather long, this is due to the fact that all the woman in her family always grow their hair out until it hits their bum, it’s tradition. She keeps it tied in twin buns, you will scarcely see her with it loose. She loves her hair, but it’s a pain to wash and take good care of. It’s also really soft.

Resemblance: Xania is often mistaken for her father's sister, her parents had her rather early and she looks like a female version of him! Most tend to be shocked when they find out that she’s his daughter and not his sister.

Health: Xania is in great health! She does have a bee allergy and a cat one, which sucks because she loves cats. She hates bee’s though; those things are devils!

Clothes: She has a very colorful and artsy style, often seeming slightly vintage

Bedroom: Her room is a mess! A very organized mess, no seriously she knows there’s a paper clip on the floor by the corner of her desk that has been lying there for a week. She knows. There are some art things in there, plenty of posters, a bed, and eh things? Ohhh she has plants too! Can't forget those.

Mannerism: Xania swings her arms and pushes herself onto her tippy toes before sinking back down to stand normally, a habit she picked up as a kid whenever she felt awkward, if you catch her eye when she does this, she’ll smile rather stiffly and look away. She hops when excited or bored, it’s a more fast passed hop with a bright expression when excited and a slower hopping from place to place while repeating ‘hop, hop, hoppy’ to herself when bored, she does it to amuse herself. She'll fluster and stop with an awkward laugh if she catches you staring while she does it. She blinks repeatedly when she can’t understand what someone is saying.

Education: She was/is really terrible at school, she just can’t concentrate, there are so many more interesting things to see! She'll often forget she has homework and just does some art instead. She doodles in her books a lot.

Personality traits: Chipper, Hyper, Kind, Lazy, stubborn, stingy.

Fears: Desk jobs, no seriously how boring must it be? Xania doesn’t really have much or any fears.

Coping Mechanism: Crying, she cries when she’s angry, she cries when she’s sad, she cries when she’s happy. She cries a lot. It helps her release her pent-up emotions. She draws or paints to force out her emotions.

Family: Her parents are rather young, with her having been an accident when her mom was sixteen, they stuck together though. She has a great relationship with both, her father paints with her and he teases her about getting a grandkid often. Her mom loves to bake, and she has Xania taste test the food. She has plenty of extended family that she sees often, her entire family is very close with family dinners and weekends being spent together. They play boards games after dinner or watch movies together every night. Dinner is eaten around a table together and the chatter is always positive and relaxed. She has a little brother Jureth, he’s a studious little thing and she’s pretty sure he can kick her ass in school work even though he was like six years younger. She teased him a lot and often re-decorated his room, they pranked each other a lot, he gift-wrapped everything in her bedroom once, Xania was pretty sure her dad helped with that one, but she had no proof.

Optimistic or pessimistic: Optimistic, she could be falling to her death from the Eiffel tower and still be ‘I could totally land this and survive’ this girl does not know when to give up.

What would she change about herself? Her voice, she sounds like a wailing banshee when she sings.

Self-esteem: Xania has been called beautiful by well most people her entire life, she wasn’t striking but she was pretty, her self-esteem is rather high, she has a lot of confidence in herself due to her family’s constant support.

Hobbies: Listening to music, painting, bike riding, hiking, rollerblading, poster collecting, pranking, sleeping

Who are their important people: Her family, Xania’s most important people will always be her family.

What is their relationship with food? She savors every bite, Xania loves food and treats herself to new exotic things frequently. The way to her heart really is through her stomach.

How are they with Money? Saving? I'm sorry what’s that? She can’t keep money, the second she sees something artsy or yummy her money is gone.

Emotional or logical? Emotional, overly so, she won’t think through her responses until it's far too late, she gets riled up easily and her anger can distract her a lot. She holds a mean grudge.

What is their voice like? Her voice is chipper but a bit on the deeper side of the range, it’s not train whistle high but well it’s nice.

How do they talk? In fast-paced long sentences when excited or happy, her voice is bright and filled with emotion, she laughs a lot and makes excited or shocked exclamations rather often.

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