#like bc his nails made *clack clack* noise

[plushii-gutz]

A short little something something I'm writing bc I like the silly world I made. I titled it "Please Don't Cry" in the notes, but eh. You can call it whatever. This is canon to lore ofc 😇

"Please! Go to sleep!"

Little arms grabbed at the bars on the crib. The monster behind them wailed, knocking over their provided toys and items of comfort. She was inconsolable, but why? He didn't know.

"Viola, it's bedtime! You need to sleep!"

Nothing changes. Arlo couldn't stand his sisters crying. It made him want to cry, too. He circled the base of the bed, looking for how the adults were able to lower one side. There had to be a button somewhere, right? Maybe if he could hold her, she would sleep!

Along the carpet, the little bowgart came across an empty bottle and jar, the contents of it spilled about and dried into the floor. It seemed like a murky white. Had Viola not eaten her dinner? How had the nanny not noticed!

"Oh! You need a bottle! Wait right here!"

Little feet pattered across the cold floor. The house had always felt scary at night, every sound echoing through the halls and cold blue lights from the front yard illuminating through the windows. Arlo followed a path he hardly knew, down the stairs and through twisted hallways. The kitchen had to be somewhere.

He froze at the sound of other steps. It was loud, as if it were something with long claws clacking against the marble flooring. A horrible creature had gotten into the house! He swiftly ducked into another room nearby, hiding behind the door as it slowly closed. One eye peeked around its wooden frame, watching. Waiting.

A pair of heels walked past, followed by big purple-furred paws with sharp nails.

"We've done the tests," the first monster said. Her voice sounded.. tired? And annoyed. "She isn't yours. You need to leave before I get more monsters involved."

"Dorothy," the other spoke, "I don't care if she's mine or not. We've been together for so long, I.. I want to be with you. Forever."

"You're pathetic. You know that, right?"

Their walking stopped. Arlo could only listen in as they continued talking.

"I only let you in because Walton couldn't love a woman if he tried. Do you really think I married that man for his heart? Look at this place!"

Dorothy opened her arms to the house, motioning to the grand paintings and detailed furniture.

"And to think all it took was a glance of the eye."

"I have heart," the other monster spoke, "I have the heart that he couldn't give you. We can keep it a secret as we had. Please, Dot, don't leave me like this!"

"Marcus!"

The monsterling fell back in shock, surprised that he hadn't caused enough noise to garner the others' attention.

"Marcus. Leave my home now, or I'll have the police strip you of everything you are. I've given you your last meal in my house. Out."

Marcus didn't fight back. Arlo listened as the footsteps grew distant, looking around the corner to make sure they were gone. Mom had mentioned giving that monster his final meal - the kitchen must be this way! He began to run in the direction they had left, holding onto Viola's bottle tightly.

He found himself inside a grand kitchen, an immeasurable amount of cooking supplies scattered across the walls and ovens that looked nearly new. It seemed like a bit much for such a small family. The little monster pushed over a stool, climbing it with care and settling both himself and the bottle onto the counter. It was a tiring climb, but he was almost done. Just need a moment to catch his breath..

What did baby monsters usually drink? He saw the nanny put some kind of powder in water. Did the water need to be warm? How was he going to warm it up? Just the thought made Arlo feel overwhelmed. He took a moment to wipe his eyes of any tears that had formed and calmed himself.

First things first - water. Water came from sinks. The monster stood up, carefully inching to the sink and pulling on the knobs. He made sure to pull the red one - that meant warm, right? He could feel the temperature growing, so it must be. With the bottle filled, he needed that powder. What could it be? Salt was too.. salty. Suger tastes good, but he knew it wasn't good for you. Was the container yellow? Maybe it was. Arlo slid onto the floor, accidentally hurting the bottom on his feet with the fall.

He checked through the cupboards, pushing aside rows of flour and other bags containing unknown powders and mixes. One of these had to be right. He came across a white plastic container with an orange lid, the words "up & up" printed onto it, and "infant" in bold letters. This must be it! It hadn't been opened yet, so perhaps it's new? Arlo poked at the plastic covering, tearing it off in one jagged pull. How much was he supposed to add? He pulled open a dishwasher, looking around until he found a spoon. Two scoops should be enough, right? Spilling a bit of the formula on the floor, Arlo shook the bottle until it seemed to be at the perfect consistency.

Before leaving, the little bowgart rummaged through the fridge and took a small jar of orange mush. Gross! But Viola seemed to enjoy them. With everything gathered, he began his journey back to the nursery. The crooked walls and tall stairs almost seemed like nothing, feeling accomplished by his adventure.

He could hear his little sisters cries. She hadn't stopped since he left - but he's back and ready to help!

"I got you something, Vi!" He sang, holding the bottle out and carefully squeezing it between the bars of the crib. The monsterlings' hands grabbed aimlessly before clamping down on top of Arlo's, finally slowing her sobs as she got her nightly fill.

"Do you feel better yet? Wait."

He swapped his hands out, now fidgeting with the lid of the jar. It was pretty tight. How was he going to open it? His eyes drifted back to his sister, who now seemed rather content. He felt proud of himself, doing what even grown-ups couldn't!

"Do you need this too?" He offered the jar. Viola took it, inspected it, and then tossed it right at Arlo's head, giggling up a storm at his reaction.

"Ow! Hey!"

He couldn't stay mad for long. She was better now, and so was he. Arlo reached into the crib one last time, pulling one of the many quilted blankets over and finally having the little one settle down to sleep.

"I love you," he said with a sigh. He needed to sleep, too, but a part of him was too scared to leave the room. Would it hurt to sleep over? It wasn't like anyone could tell him no.

In the end, Arlo left. His room wasn't too far, so he would hear her if she needed him. He settled down into his bed, holding on tightly to his blanket. Finally, mercifully, he drifted off into a deep slumber.

Snow fell outside as it always had. The stars held little light than before. Cold Island was at rest.

#my singing monsters #msm #fanfiction #thorns msm #msm oc #msm au #fallen stars msm #kicking my feet and giggling

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

SoC Au Part 1 of ?

So, ya girl is getting tired of writing this bc this is far more work than I thought it would be. Everything up until Kaz starting college is going to be in fic form which is why it’s taking me so long. Anyway, here’s part 1. Hope it’s alright. 

Alone in the back of the bus, Kaz stretched out across the seat. There was a chill beginning to set into the smoggy Baltimore air. With the chill, came the aches. It had been years since Kaz had lost his footing on the ledge of his windowsill, plummeting to the ground. Nathan and his men had themselves quite a laugh when Kaz had dragged himself through the front door. 

“Sure you don’t want a doctor?�� Nathan asked. Standing on the ladder that led up to the attic, he rested his arms on the door’s framing and rested his chin on them. A wicked light danced in his icy eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Kaz snapped as he dragged himself into bed. Nathan laughed. 

“Hey, fine. I’m Nathan.” 

“Please don’t,” Kaz said. His bed lay deep in the shadows of the attic. He hoped that the darkness was enough to hide his burning ears. He’d made a fool of himself tumbling down the roof. 

He doesn’t care about you, Kaz reminded himself. You’re just an investment. No matter how many times he said it, the words still felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Ahead of him, Kaz heard the cheers and laughter of his team. Winning tonight's game had won them a place in the semi-finals. Their rowdiness grated on Kaz’s nerves but he figured they’d earned it. Not once had he joined in on his team’s festivities, something he knew they constantly complained about, but no one dared cross him. 

Digging noise-canceling earbuds from his bag, he popped them in. Blissful silence enveloped him. Leaning his head back against the cool glass, he closed his eyes. Behind his lids, he found highlights from the game replaying themselves. The silence granted to him by his earbuds served as a blank canvas. The sound of feet pounding on the court, the ragged breathing of exhausted players, the sound of the ball rebounding off the walls painted themselves into the most magnificent picture of all. From his place in goal, Kaz had the greatest seat in the house. 

Exy was a bastard sport and Kaz, the Bastard of Baltimore. Crawford claimed that there was nothing quite as serendipitous as that. Money might have been Kaz’s one true love but Exy was a close second. From the slamming of the bolts on the court doors to the clacking of racquets against one another, nothing made Kaz’s heart race the way Exy did. It made him feel alive. From the moment that the court doors slammed shut to the ringing of the final buzzer, Kaz was no longer truly the Bastard of Baltimore. He was Kaz Rietveld, son of Klaus and Tess, and Jordie’s baby brother. 

Klaus had been a cold, callous father who’s heart only seemed to warm when he stood upon the court with his boys. Kaz had fought hard for his father’s love. It was a battle he hadn’t had time to win. A small part of Kaz hoped that, wherever his father was, he was proud of him. Nathan certainly wasn’t. There was little Kaz could discern about Nathan’s hatred for the game that he held so close to his twisted little heart other than it had something to do with Nathaniel. 

 Nathaniel. The very name sent a wave of anger crashing over Kaz, destroying the beautiful reminiscence of his game. For the last eight years, Kaz had fought to win a place in Nathan’s heart only to find that, when Nathaniel had left, he’d taken Nathan’s heart with him. 

Kaz unlocked his phone to find something to drown out the thoughts in his head. A thousand messages of congratulations greeted him, all cleared from his notification board with a single tap of his fingers. There was a snap from Leena, captain of the cheer squad. Kaz scowled. It was undoubtedly another sordid attempt of hers to get his attention. Leena was traditionally beautiful. Her round face was set with sapphire eyes and framed by long locks of gold. Her long legs and generous curves were always on display. Anyone else might have jumped at the chance to be with someone as beautiful as her but the very thought of someone, anyone touching him sent shivers of disgust down Kaz’s spine. 

With shaking fingers, Kaz navigated to his music. Stuffing down all the memories threatening to overwhelm him, Kaz wrapped his jacket tighter around himself as he huddled cold and alone in the back of the bus. 

Kaz didn’t know when the rowdiness of his teammates had subsided nor when they’d even started onto the road, only that they were currently pulling into the bus lot by the school. Ripping the buds from his ears, Kaz tossed his phone into his bag. He was standing before the bus had stopped. Sliding his cane from beneath his seat, he waited for the rest of his teammates to disembark before making his way down the aisle. Cheers greeted him as he stepped off the bus. The sea of players parted around him when he moved through them. All of them congratulated him on the win, claiming they wouldn’t be anything without him. Their cheers were wasted. He didn’t care what they thought of him as long as they played. 

Kaz made his way to his car, waving away their congratulations. A small smile tugged at his lips as he unlocked the car door and got in. He turned to toss his bag into the back seat before situating himself in his seat. Starting the car, he found a familiar form illuminated by the headlights. 

Kaz groaned in exasperation as he let his head fall onto the horn. He heard a knock at his window and picked his head up. Rolling down the window just a crack, he prepared himself for whatever it was Leena was going to try to pull this time. 

“Hey, Kazzy,” she cooed as she pressed up against the window, her chest smushing against it. 

“Don’t call me that,” Kaz said, not even trying to disguise the annoyance in his voice. 

“How about I call you ‘mine’ instead?” Kaz could hear the mischief in her voice.

“How about you move before I run over your foot?” 

“You wouldn’t.” But Kaz would. And he did. His smile grew wide at the crunching of her bones beneath the tires of his Aston Martin. Flying down the street, Kaz dropped the windows to feel the wind on his face. It was a short drive to the Wesninski House. Pulling into the drive, Kaz found Nathan’s car gone. His shoulders sagged just a little. 

“You’re just an investment,” he whispered to himself before cutting off the engine. Hauling himself out of the car, he grabbed his stuff and walked up to the door. He let himself into the dark house and headed down the corridor. It was three flights of stairs up to his room. With a grimace, he hobbled up the winding staircase to the third floor. He’d have to climb the ladder up to the attic before he could finally rest. 

Arriving on the third floor, Kaz found himself drawn to the door that stood beside the ladder up to the attic. Don’t, he told himself as his gloved hand wrapped around the doorknob. The door stood ajar only a hair’s width. Hoping against hope, Kaz pushed the door open. Laying on the bed was the last person he wanted to see today. 

“He’s gone to find his son,” Lola said from amid the rumpled sheets of Nathan’s bed. Kaz watched as she shifted in the bed, suddenly aware that she wasn’t wearing very much. Turning to face him, her soft brown hair fell over her face but did little to hide the sharp, crooked smile growing across her face.“His real son,” she clarified. Kaz had been living in the Wesninski house for six years now but the words still cut him sharper than any knife ever had. 

Set to inherit Nathan’s territory as the Butcher of Baltimore, Kaz was raised in the Wesninski House. As such, many thought him to be the bastard child of Nathan himself. He wasn’t, a truth that Kaz desperately wished wasn’t one at all. 

Kaz felt no remorse for wanting to replace Klaus with Nathan. The Rietveld family had been a broken one. Klaus’s cold nature had driven Tess to take her own life rather than live her life bound to such an unloving man. It wasn’t that Klaus had not loved his wife. It was that he hadn’t known how to show her that he did. Both his sons bore a striking resemblance to their mother. Living with Jordie and Kaz was a constant reminder of the wife Klaus had lost. Bouts of anger overtook him often. How dare she abandon him like this? How dare she leave her darlings here to mock him incessantly with their thatches of dark hair and black coffee eyes? 

Klaus took to beating his sons until their skins were mottled with bruises and he could no longer see their pale, porcelain skin. Purple marred the sharp planes of their faces but not a soul spared them even a passing glance. It wasn’t until the accident in the field outside the house that the Rietveld boys finally escaped the little farm town they’d grown up in. Waves of memories surged up, threatening to drag Kaz beneath them once more.

“I’m not the one missing my Daddy” he snapped, focusing back on the present. Lola’s nostrils flared and anger flashed in her hazel eyes. Scrambling to wrap the sheets around her, she made for the edge of the bed. Kaz backed out of the room, right into a man who seemed to have materialized from the shadows. 

“You better watch that mouth of yours, you little bastard,” he sneered. That voice… Kaz knew it immediately. Turning his gaze up to him, Kaz felt his heart stop. That was the final straw. The memories crashed down over Kaz, forcing him under. 

Suddenly, Kaz was 6 again. Manic laughter echoed through Kaz’s head as he knelt above the spazzing body of his brother. Jordie’s eyes were bright, too bright. His smile was stretched too wide. Clutching his brother’s hand, Kaz saw that his nails had turned black. Tears poured down Kaz’s face, mixing with the thin sheen of sweat blanketing Jordie’s face. At the time, Kaz had been vaguely aware of someone screaming. Now he knew it to be his own desperate cries for help. Everywhere Kaz looked he saw people. Dead people. Every one of Jordie’s friends had been Opioid addicts. Every one of Jordie’s friends was now dead. 

A voice sounded from the other end of the alley. Just as Kaz was about to call for help, he heard the man talking to another. They were going to incinerate the bodies. Throwing himself over the twitching body of his brother, Kaz lay as still as he could as the footsteps drew near. Laying atop Jordie, Kaz heard his brother draw one final shuddering breath before his heart finally gave out. Stunned, Kaz let himself get manhandled and thrown into the back of a truck. He landed atop a pile of lifeless bodies, all in various states of decay. The sweet smell of rot filled his nostrils and made him gag. Scrambling to the body of his brother the second the tarp was thrown across the pile of bodies, Kaz clung to Jordie. Tears continued to flow down his face. A few slipped between his parted lips. Their salty taste mingled with the overly sweet taste of death. 

With each shuddering breath he drew, Kaz found himself struggling to stay in the present. Kaz squeezed his eyes shut and focused on one single memory. Curled in the limp arms of his brother, Kaz imagined that they were back in the little motel room they’d found themselves. He heard his brother’s voice singing as he drew Kaz close. Kaz remembered the way the steady beat of his brother’s heart had lulled him to sleep so many times and choked on a strangled sob. Every passing second drew another ounce of the warmth of Jordie’s body from him. Even now, he knew, that the arms wrapped around him weren’t really hugging him close. 

The truck came to a screeching halt and the pile of bodies lurched forward, burying Kaz in them. He opened his mouth to scream only to allow the hand of a rotting corpse to enter. Staring up at it with wide eyes, Kaz saw the corpse. It was a burly, young man with beautiful brown eyes, now empty and lifeless. The light filtering through the tarp turned the man’s blond hair into a halo of gold. Flesh peeled from his face to reveal the decaying muscle beneath. The angels of old were said to be hideous and terrifying to look upon. Fear and awe paralyzed Kaz as he gaped at what he was certain was an angel. 

Men called back and forth around Kaz. Suddenly, the tarp beneath Kaz began to lift. The bodies shifted once more and Kaz was effectively buried beneath the mass of bodies, the angel pressed right up against him. The bundle of bodies swung and then thudded heavily on a wooden deck. A barge horn sounded and Kaz felt the roll of waves beneath him. They were on a boat. Kaz didn't know how long it was before he realized that he was struggling to breathe. Thrashing about in the tarp, he found a sharp earring decorating a severed ear. Using it, he tore through the tarp. The mass of bodies spilled forth from the bag, forcing Kaz to claw his way through them. Making it to the edge of the boat, Kaz saw the waves crashing down against the sides. 

It would take a miracle to survive that fall. If only Kaz had an angel. Raking his gaze over the pile of corpses, Kaz easily picked out the form of the burly young man. Dragging the man over to the railing, Kaz inspected the decaying body. It was more than a little worse for wear but it was his only hope. Hauling it over the rail, Kaz slipped between the bars. A man cried out for him to stop but it was too late. Kaz was already falling. Wrapping himself around the body, Kaz managed to tuck into some semblance of a dive. Beneath the water, the lights of the city blurred and danced. Kaz began kicking towards the surface, the body in tow. Breaking the surface, Kaz gasped for air. The body floated beside him on its own. Latching on once more, Kaz summoned the dregs of his energy. Kicking towards the shoreline, Kaz clung to the corpse of his angel. 

Washing up on the shore, Kaz lay face up. The rising sun cast a soft orange glow on everything it touched. Exhaustion hit Kaz as the adrenaline wore off. Surviving the turbulent sea was nothing short of a miracle. Beside him, the waterlogged corpse lay. It had grown far more grotesque with its exposure to the saltwater. Kaz’s limbs ached from fighting so hard to make it back to shore but he had one last job to do. With his bare hands, Kaz dug up the loose sand on the empty stretch of beach he’d landed on. Making sure no one else was around, he carefully rolled the body into the shallow grave he’d managed to carve for it. The high tide swept in, stopping just short of the grave. Yet another miracle, Kaz thought as he packed sand over his angel’s body. Scouring the shore, Kaz found several smooth, flat stones and arranged them in a cross at the head of the grave before finally collapsing. 

Kaz woke several hours later with the sun beating down on him. Hauling himself to his feet, he stumbled back towards civilization. Snagging some money from the pockets of passersby, he found enough money to take a bus back downtown. The entire ride there, all Kaz could think about was Jordie’s dealer. He was a tall, muscular man with a deep voice. A scar ran down the length of his face, through his left eye. It had turned a milky white as the scar tissue built up. Sleeves of tattoos raced up and down both the man’s arms. Stepping off the bus, Kaz swore that he’d have his revenge. That man and everyone he loved would pay for what he’d done.   

“Brekker?” the man asked. Kaz was once again in his own body. Standing before him, the man wore a look of concern. It mocked Kaz for he knew that, ten years ago, it had smirked down at him as he’d snatched up Jordie’s money in exchange for a little bottle and a needle. 

“I’m fine,” Kaz hissed as he stumbled away from him. His cane was the only thing keeping him up now, but even that shook. Kaz couldn't let the man see. It had taken Kaz ten years to find this man. Ten years hunting high and low, but it was all for naught seeing as the man had waltzed right up to his doorstep and entered his home. 

The man frowned at him before entering Nathan’s room. The door shut loudly behind him. From behind the door, Kaz heard Lola shouting. The man spoke in a calm, even tone too low for Kaz to make out the words. Retreating back to his room, Kaz collapsed on his bed a shaking mess. 

Exhaustion wore at his body, but his mind was racing. The sun’s rays were already slipping between the blinds of Kaz’s windows before he’d managed to quiet the thoughts in his head.  Shutting his eyes, Kaz knocked out and slept the day away. He didn’t wake until the sun began to dip beneath the horizon once more. 

Dragging himself back out of bed, he grabbed his toothbrush before taking a quick shower in the makeshift set up Nathan had helped him install. He was dressed and down in fifteen minutes. 

There wasn’t a soul in the house, save the dogs. Both of them barked eagerly from their kennels, begging to be let out. Fury burned in the pit of his stomach. Lola knew she couldn’t lay a hand on Kaz so she sought out the things that he loved and punished them for his actions. So far, Kaz had come home to three broken racquets, a large pile of ashes that had once been his collection of old maps, and his poor dogs locked in their kennels without food or water.  

“One of these days, I’m going to set you two on Lola,” he said as he let the dogs out of their cage. They bounded out and greeted him with sloppy kisses. The weight of them toppled Kaz to the ground. “Stupid mutts,” Kaz grumbled but he made no effort to stop them. Kaz set out food and water for them before moving rifling through the fridge for food. Snagging last night’s lasagna, he set the pan in the oven to reheat. As he waited, he checked the security cam feeds. Lola and the man had left the house only an hour before he’d gotten out of bed. Letting himself relax, Kaz grabbed the tray from the oven and headed upstairs, quite a feat considering the pan in his hands and the dogs following at his heels. 

On the third floor, at the end of the hall, stood Nathan’s office. Balancing the tray in one hand, Kaz withdrew a key from the pocket of his sweatpants and let himself in. Kaz didn’t need really need a key. The first thing Nathan had taught him was how to pick a lock. No, the key was a symbol. It was an open invitation into the room. It meant more to Kaz than he preferred to admit. 

Setting the pan on the table, Kaz dug through the drawers until he found a fork. There were always dishes and silverware scatter around the house, the result of Nathan refusing to sit still for very long. Taking his food with him to the bay window at the far end of the room, Kaz snagged his laptop from atop the snare of charging cables where it lay. 

Booting it up, Kaz finally dug into his food. It was only after the first bite that he realized how hungry he was. Both dogs sat at his feet, waiting for him to drop them bits of meat. Kaz hated being predictable but the hellhounds would always have a place in his twisted, little heart. Joseph and Micheal were from the same litter and had arrived just in time for Kaz’s tenth birthday. The pair had earned the nicked names 'hellhounds’ for their fierce appearance and penchant for wreaking havoc throughout the house. Many thought the pair to be monstrous menaces but the truth was they weren’t half bad. Neither of them could help their appearance but the damage they wrought upon the house was just them using up all the energy they had after being cooped up in cages all day. 

Kaz pulled up his email and felt his heart stutter. There was an email from Nathan dated yesterday. Opening it, Kaz found that Lola was right. Nathan had left in search of Nathaniel but at least he’d thought to tell Kaz. It did little to soothe Kaz’s wounds. No matter what Kaz did it was never enough. Nathan would never care for him as he did for Nathaniel. Kaz was just a placeholder until Nathan got his own son back. A few years ago, Kaz had slipped into this very room to find a wasted Nathan slumped in the seat behind the desk. 

“Nathaniel?” Nathan asked, perking up. As Kaz stepped out of the shadows he saw the way Nathan deflated. “Oh, it’s just you, Kaz.” Just you. The words made Kaz feel so small. “I don’t know how I could mistake you for him,” he continued. “He was such a little shit. Nathaniel was always picking fights with everyone, especially Riko. God, he wouldn’t have survived at Evermore. Not like you.” Nathan looked over at Kaz. “Nathaniel was never going to take over Baltimore, he was too soft. You’re so much stronger than he was. So much smarter. Sometimes, I wish you were my son.” Kaz felt his soul leave his body. 

“You don’t mean that,” Kaz whispered, the cracking of his voice barely audible 

“I do,” Nathan replied. “It would have made everything so much easier. Greed, Kaz. Greed is all you need to manipulate a person. The Moriyamas don’t allow lines of succession. Successors must earn their place, not inherit them. They gave me two choices. Either I could send Nathaniel to Evermore or… I could kill him. I couldn’t do it,” Nathan whispered, his voice cracking. “I tried. I really did, but I loved him too much. I was greedy. I thought I could have my empire and Nathaniel’s love. He was my life, Kaz. I’d give anything to have my Nathaniel back. 

“I gave him my heart and what did he do? He crushed it. I gave him freedom and what did he do? He ran. I’m going to slit his tendons so that he’ll never run from me again. I’m going to carve the flesh from his skin so he knows what it’s like to lose his own flesh and blood. I’m going to tear out his heart and crush it with my bare hands just as he did mine.” 

Revenge. That was what drove Nathan and Kaz. Surely, he’ll understand, Kaz told himself as he rose from his seat. The dogs watched as he drifted over to the large desk at the other end of the room. Slipping behind it, Kaz knelt before the cabinet. Sliding a hidden panel open, he found the safe that Nathan stored his business ledgers in. It was a simple model, opened with a 5-digit pin. However, any wrong attempt to open the safe would incinerate its contents. Normally, Kaz would dust for prints and attempt to decode the pin but he knew Nathan wiped the keypad each time he used it. Kaz had one chance. Sucking in a deep breath, he punched in a code.

                                                          11987

The light turned green and Kaz let out a sigh. Nathan might have been the cruelest man in all of Baltimore but he was still a man. 

Kaz stuck his hand in and withdrew a laptop and a box full of thumb drives. Stacking his haul atop the desk, Kaz settled into the chair. He threw open the lid of the box to find the drives ordered by year. Maybe Lola is good for something, after all, he thought as he recognized her neat handwriting on the cards. Combing through the tabs, he found the ones from just before his arrival. He spent the night searching through the drives for any hint of the man. His phone buzzed in the early hours of the morning, alerting him of motion in the front-drive. Lola was home. 

Scrambling to return everything to safe, Kaz wiped the keypad before whistling for the dogs. Making sure he locked the door behind him. Kaz ushered them up the ladder to his room. The front door banged open just as Kaz made it up the final rung of the ladder. Kaz cursed as he remembered that he’d left his cane in the other room. Hopefully, Lola wouldn’t enter the office until he had a chance to grab it himself. 

His phone chimed. Lola had texted him, demanding his presence in the kitchen immediately. Grumbling to himself, Kaz grabbed his spare cane and headed back down the stairs, leaving the dogs to wander about the attic. 

Lola had made a run to pick up some men that owed Nathan money. Descending the stairs, Kaz felt his heart jump into his throat. At the bottom of the stairs, the man from last night stood. 

“Brekker,” he said in lieu of hello. In the harsh lighting of the basement, Kaz finally inspected the man’s features. His lips jawline was nearly as sharp as the blade in his hand. His nose was crooked as though it had been broken and reset incorrectly. His lips were small but plump. His remaining eye was a beautiful hazel and his hair a soft brown that matched it. A sharp, crooked smile grew across his face. “We’re going to have quite a bit of fun tonight.” He barked a laugh that nearly sent a shudder down Kaz’s spine. 

“I never got your name,” Kaz replied. With a name, Kaz’s search would probably go much smoother. 

“Oh, it’s Malcolm. Romero Malcolm.” the man said. Kaz’s blood ran cold. 

“Malcolm?” he asked more to himself than the man. Then Kaz saw it. The eyes, the hair, the smile.

“Come on, before Lola gets mad,” Romero said before moving to join his sister by the table. The rest of the night was a blur of blood and the screams of the men mingling with the laughter of the Malcolms.

#just a pipe dream #SoC/TFC au #six of crows au #all for the game au #SoC au #aftg au #the foxhole court #six of crows #all for the game #kaz brekker #soc kaz #reveal to me your deepest desires

[hermannsthumb]

Hi! I know it must be an old prompt fill, but would you ever consider writing a follow-up on your newt/owen fill? If you felt like revisiting it, of course. Jealousy/pining with a happy ending is my cryptonite and I love your writing!

i actually DID write a followup ages ago but never posted it anywhere but my side twitter!!!!!!! so here it is now, wildly edited (bc i wrote it in like october lol), newt/owen harper WITH bonus hermann bc i love hermann :) how do i tag this ship? who knows. original newt/owen drabble here

18+/adult content/lemon (i really, really hate that thats necessary now) below cut! along w basic summary

jealousy! threeway! blowjobs! lab sex! dirty talk that proofreading over just now made me go “oh jeez”! and facials too. now i know why i didnt post this earlier LOL. sorry mr gorman

Newt’s always been pretty decent at giving blowjobs (everyone always tells him he’s got a big mouth, you know, gotta use it for something), and over time he’s actually started to really dig it. As of late, he’s started to really dig giving Owen blowjobs especially--he’s got a nice dick that Newt can only just fit his mouth around all the way, and he massages Newt’s scalp and tugs on his hair the whole time and calls Newt filthy things, and sometimes, nice things. It’s a great time for everyone involved, Newt figures.

Hermann left the lab some time ago to shower and go to bed--early for him, on a work night, but he’s been doing that a lot lately since Dr. Harper joined up with them--and the second the door shut behind him, Owen’s hand went to Newt’s ass.

“We’re not done with the dissection yet,” Newt protested weakly, but Owen squeezed his ass and licked a line up his neck and Newt’s dick jerked to life and, well. One thing led to another, and now they’re here, Owen pressed against Hermann’s chalkboard with his jeans and boxers pulled down to his thighs and his dick down Newt’s throat. “Pretty thing,” he moans, petting Newt’s hair, and Newt sucks eagerly and digs his nails into Owen’s hips before pulling off with a pop.

“Call me names,” Newt begs, voice raspy, before he sucks Owen into his mouth once more; Owen fucks his hips forwards, and Newt nearly chokes.

(No one’s ever called Newt dirty stuff in bed before, and it’s something he found out he’s into totally by accident. It was a week or so ago, in Newt’s bunk, and he and Owen had been fucking, like they usually do the second the work day ends, and Owen had been insinuating for not-the-first-time that he wouldn’t mind sharing Newt with Hermann. Far from mind it, actually. Narcissist.

“You’re pretty dead set on this, huh?” Newt panted out as he ground himself down. Owen was clinging to him so tight Newt could barely move, lips dragging messy down Newt’s neck, and Newt almost didn’t hear his grunt of an answer.

“Why not?” Owen began kneading at his ass, spreading him just a bit wider, and Newt sunk down and whined and tossed his head back. “You--oh--you clearly want to shag him, too.”

“I’ve never--” Newt stammered. “Uh--”

Owen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Then, he was leering again, rolling into Newt with a deliberate languidness that made Newt want to scream. He snagged a handful of Newt’s hair and wrenched his head forward to hiss in his ear. “A cockslut like you--” Newt’s eyes widened “--never having had more than one man at a time? I don’t believe it.”

“Call me that again,” Newt whimpered. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’re a filthy cockslut,” Owen repeated, amused, half-laughing, and he tightened his grip in Newt’s hair and tugged harder. “A filthy, greedy--”

“I am,” Newt nearly shouted, writhing desperately, “oh, fuck, I am, I am--” He came, untouched, between their bodies, and Owen laughed disbelievingly and...that was that.)

“You’re a little slut,” he growls now, thrusting hard into Newt’s mouth, and Newt moans helplessly and palms himself through his jeans. “You’re a dirty little cockslut, Newt, and I’m going to come all over your pretty--”

There’s a tiny exclamation of surprise from behind them. Newt wonders--for a moment--who’s caught them and if they should stop, but Owen holds Newt’s head in place by his hair and continues fucking his face as if nothing’s wrong, so Newt lets him. Probably the janitor. Newt owes the guy big time at this point--he’ll get him a nice Christmas present when December rolls around. “Dr. Gottlieb,” Owen greets, absurdly casual, and Newt yanks himself off Owen’s dick, coughing, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, and he turns around.

“Hermann?!” he squeaks, and sure enough, there’s Hermann, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, frozen in the doorway of the lab. “Shit, sorry--I didn’t--I thought you were--”

Owen is infuriatingly blasé about it all. Bastard probably planned it. “Ah, come on,” Owen says, shooting Hermann a little wink. “He was enjoying the show. Been lurking there for nearly five minutes.”

“I was not!” Hermann exclaims, but his eyes are fixed on where Newt’s hand is still wrapped around the base of Owen’s dick, on Newt’s lips (slicked with precome and saliva). “I simply--I forgot--”

Owen’s fingers are still wound tightly in Newt’s hair, and he tugs on him until Newt, against his better judgment, takes him into his mouth once more. Maybe not entirely against his better judgement. The thought of having someone watch is kinda exciting. The thought of having Hermann watch is--well. That’s very, very exciting, more exciting than Newt cares to admit. Newt sucks and hallows his cheeks easily, moaning again, and Owen sighs. “Isn’t he a pretty thing?” he says, kneading at Newt’s scalp the way Newt likes. “C’mere.”

Newt expects Hermann to turn on his heels. Go back to bed. Probably even ignore him for the rest of the week, if not the month, if not forever. He doesn’t expect the door clicking shut, the clack of Hermann’s cane on the lab floor moving towards them. Newt doesn’t stop working his throat as he looks up; Hermann is above him now, too, blushing terribly, his free hand fumbling with the buckle of his very tented slacks, and Newt’s arousal spikes by about two-hundred percent and he pulls off Owen with spit trailing to his lips. “Holy shit, Hermann,” he says, at a loss for anything else to say.

“Newton,” Hermann stammers, stilling his hand, “is this--ah--”

Newt ignores Owen in favor of throwing all caution into the wind and pressing himself to the front of Hermann’s slacks and mouthing at him, and Hermann chokes out a gasp. “Newton,” he says, nearly dropping his cane as he throws out his right hand to grip the ledge of the chalkboard, “oh--”

Newt pulls Hermann’s dick--flushed red and leaking precome--out, then presses a single kiss to the tip. “Both of you,” Newt says, breathily, and then licks teasingly over the head (barely believing it). “I want both of you to--”

Owen catches on first and inches over, nudges his dick against Newt’s cheek, and Newt curls his other hand around it and licks off precome and remnants of his own saliva. He hears Hermann emit another odd, strangled noise, and Newt grins, leans back over to Hermann’s dick and kisses that again instead. He starts stroking them both in unison. “Is this good?” he says, widening his eyes innocently. He nuzzles at the tip of Hermann’s dick and darts his tongue out against the slit.

Owen hisses out a curse; Hermann’s legs start to tremble. His knuckles have gone white around the chalkboard ledge. Newt’s chest swells with pride. He’s doing that to them.

It’s hard building a rhythm, at first, hard to lavish attention and kisses and teasing licks equally on both of them, but Newt manages after five minutes or so. He jerks them off slowly, evenly, switching between mouthing hot and messy at Owen’s (who likes it sloppy) and sucking on Hermann’s (who makes the sexiest little grunts every time Newt so much as breathes on him; Newt files away the knowledge that Hermann is sensitive for future use).

“Newton--” Hermann is panting, and Newt locks eyes with him as he rolls his tongue over Owen and Hermann’s mouth drops open, “oh--”

“You can do better than that,” Owen says, voice strained, and he pets at Newt’s hair. Newt takes the bait: he takes the heads of both Hermann and Owen’s dicks into his mouth and sucks. Hermann cries out, guttural and wordless, and Newt moans happily and works his tongue over them as best as he can. He feels drool run down his chin; he knows he probably looks filthy, and ridiculous, but he doesn’t care.

Hermann’s hips jerk forward so hard Newt nearly gags again, and Newt pulls off quickly. He doesn’t want Hermann to come yet. He wants-- “Sorry,” Hermann stutters, flustered, his chest heaving wildly, “oh, Newton, I’m sorry--I--”

Newt settles back on his heels (his knees have begun to ache, pressed to the cold tile floor for so long) and starts jerking them both off faster. “On my face,” he moans, “please.” He parts his lips, sticks his tongue out, and Owen--already so worked up from being teased for so long--falls apart first, gasps sharply as he comes. It hits Newt’s tongue, his nose, his left cheek in spurts. Hermann’s eyes are so wide it’s almost comical, and his orgasm takes both him and Newt by surprise, hitting Newt’s tongue--like Owen--but the rest hitting Newt’s chin and neck.

Newt swallows, lets them both slip from his fingers so he can start furiously rubbing at himself instead. “Holy shit,” Newt whines, feeling so, so dirty, and he squeezes himself clumsily, “holy shit, oh--”

Owen--breathing heavily--hoists Newt to his feet by the front of his button-up and slams him against the chalkboard, shoves his tongue into Newt’s mouth and bites at his bottom lip, and Newt squeaks in surprise. Owen swallows the noise down and works open Newt’s jeans to start jerking him off. Newt can see Hermann--dazed, spent, clinging to the chalkboard ledge--watching them. “C’mon, Gottlieb,” Owen murmurs, grabbing at Hermann’s hand and dragging it down Newt’s pants, too, and Newt’s breath hitches when he feels Hermann curl his fingers around him hesitantly.

“Hermann,” Newt whimpers, and Hermann grows more confident, matches Owen’s sharp, rough strokes. “Oh--”

Owen starts kissing down his throat and digs his teeth into the joint of Newt’s neck and shoulder, where Newt’s fucked-up collar exposes his skin. It’s like electricity is coursing through Newt’s body; everything is hot, so hot, and he’s aware he’s begging loudly, shrilly, for something, anything. Hermann leans in and kisses him hard just as Owen starts sucking a bruise into Newt’s skin and Newt cries out, spills over Hermann’s and Owen’s hands.

They’re both sweet and attentive, afterwards. Hermann--who had been so shy before--presses sweet, chaste kisses to Newt’s jaw and lips, murmuring out Newt’s name, and Owen just pets at Newt’s hair and kisses behind his ear. It’s nice.

“Great work, team,” Newt says finally, voice wrecked. “Gotta do that again some time.”

#newtowen #maria's newmann blogging #maria's fanfiction tag #HOW do i tag this for ships who knows #not sfw //////// #lemon /////// #really typing that in the yr of our lord 2019 #Anonymous