#the best idea is to get a dog then get kittens so the cats grow up around dogs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sematarygirls · 1 year

Text

Living Dead Girl — Patrick Hockstetter.

part two

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader (descriptors such as beautiful and nicknames such as dollface, darling, ect, but no described features— ie. long hair, brown eyes)

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal abuse , graphic depictions of murder/gore , you being murdered (in third person) 🤗 , self image issues

word count : 5.5k (part one)

a/n : i don't know how accurate this is to patrick, but i tried to make him lack empathy and remorse and he can't exactly feel love— just obsession and fascination. also, i hc patrick as a lefty so do with that what you will.

Patrick had once again been feeling that familiar itch. It started subtlety this time, like a tickle from a weightless feather that blew lightly across his skin every so often, and it began to gradually grow.

He tried his best to satiate the hunger of the beast within, to scratch that itch in the same way he had so many times before— by killing the neighborhood pets.

But, it appeared this craving was a different kind altogether, for when he lit his lighter, allowing the aerosol to spray through the flame and fry the kitten until it was unrecognizable and it's shrill screams had died out, he felt nothing. There was no sense of relief, no satisfaction or even the small semblance of happiness— because Patrick truly couldn't feel such uplifting emotions.

There was just nothing.

Well, there was still that nagging itch.

It took some contemplation. Long nights staring up at the empty ceiling of his room, his right arm propped under his head while his left laid passively across his torso. How could he rid himself of this feeling?

He pondered that perhaps burning just didn't do it for him anymore. To test his theory, he tried many other options— drowning, suffocation, mutilation— he even, regrettably, attempted tasting the vile little creatures.

So, definitely not the method of torture because he was sure that if he hadn't even feeling so empty, those, with the exception of the last one, would have been a world of fun for him. Well then, maybe it was the animal!

Squirrels, cats, dogs, raccoons, lizards, frogs, birds— anything he could get his hands on became helpless victims in Patrick's reign of terror, but none of it helped.

That feeling began to grow until it took up every inch of his body. All he could think about was the kill. Even when he and his friends were torturing their pre-pubescent victims, images of blood and agonizing screams plagued his mind.

And that's when it hit him— he needed a human victim. One that brought real stakes to the equation, one that would get his adrenaline rushing at the idea of being caught.

Initially, it had been an idea. He hadn't planned to act on it... but then you came along, and god, you were just so perfect.

You ran into him, through no fault of your own. He had been walking down the wrong side of the hallway, and you were just coming around a corner, so he was in your blind spot.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz," you chuckled lightly after you collided into his hard chest. You looked up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

As he stared down at you, he just knew that you were the one. You were so perfect. So beautiful. And it made him furious. He couldn't quite discern why, but the way your eyes sparkled with genuity and naivety caused a pit of red hot rage to build in his stomach.

But he couldn't act yet. He had to gain your trust. He had to ensure that he could get you into the woods by yourself so he could enact his plan and finally scratch that fucking itch.

"My fault, dollface," he spoke with a wide smile, attempting to be somewhat gentlemanly. "I wasn't paying attention." He gently clenched and released his fist as he watched you smile brightly. "I'm Patrick, Hockstetter," he introduced, leaning forward to tower over you in an attempt to be intimidating but in a way that could also come off as flirtatious.

"Ah, yes, the infamous Patrick Hockstetter, I presume?" You asked, your eyebrow arching slightly. There it was again. That anger. It had to have been your subtle cockiness, the way you weren't the least bit fearful of him even though his reputation clearly proceeded him.

"The very same," he smirked, leaning close to your ear. His breath lightly fanned the shell of your ear. "Why? Does my reputation scare you? Do I scare you?"

You let out a light chuckle. "No." It was a simple answer, and yet Patrick still found himself having to cling to that feeling on his skin, the one he desperately wanted to be rid of, to ensure that he didn't snap right at that second.

For some bizarre reason, in your presence, Patrick felt utterly powerless, which was a very foreign feeling to him. He had always been calm and calculated, except for when he was alone with his projects, so to be so out of control of his emotions just added to his resentment toward you.

"You should be," he replied ominously before turning and walking away from you in long, precise strides. He let his smirk fall and his lip curl up in disgust as he felt your eyes on his back the whole way down the hallway.

It had been such a simple interaction, and yet it had left you completely and utterly captivated. You should have been afraid of him. You'd known of his tendency for him and his friends to terrorize younger kids, and of course, you had heard the whispers of what he did when he thought no one was around, but those were just rumors... right?

Either way, you were intrigued by Patrick and wanted to see him again.

The next time you two had met, you were walking home. You lived above your parent's old record store in the town square, which was extremely convenient for you because it meant all the stores, the arcade, and school were just a short walk away. The record shop had been your grandfather's before it became your mother's, and soon it would be yours.

You were coming up on the arcade, and as you approached, you hesitated. Should you go inside? Your parents were expecting you home, but it was Friday, so they'd be okay with you going out for a bit, right?

As you contemplated, a blue Trans Am pulled up next to you, and a voice called out to you. "Y/N!"

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind registered the familiarity of the voice. It sounded like Patrick, but it couldn't be because you had never told him your name. You turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise as your gaze met Patrick, who was hanging with half his body out the window of the car. In the passenger's seat, Henry was staring forward, a bored and slightly irritated look on his face.

"Hockstetter?" You asked with a grin. "I don't remember telling you my name."

"You didn't," he replied, sending a grin of his own your way.

"Did you ask around about me?" You teased, your eyebrows raising slightly as you gave him a playful look.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Still not scared of me?" He asked, placing the palms of his hands on the door to push his upper half out the window toward you.

"Hmm," you looked up and to the side, pretending to think for a moment. "Nah," you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Well, in that case," he drawled out. "You wanna go out with me tomorrow night?"

"You bringing your posse?" You asked, nodding your head to the three other teens in the car that had undoubtedly been listening in on your conversation.

"Why? Do you want them to come?" He asked suggestively. "I mean, I didn't know you were into that, but if you insi-"

"Stop! Stop!" You laughed, clamping your hand over his mouth. He looked you dead in the eye, and for a moment, you were so hypnotized by his eyes that you didn't realize the wet sensation of his tongue flicking across your palm. "Ugh!" You shrieked in disgust with a small laugh. "Gross."

"So?" He asked, his eyebrows raising. "Whatdya say?" He grinned his Cheshire cat grin, and you couldn't help but relent.

"Okay," you said softly with a little nod. "Yeah, I'll go out with you."

"Great," he smirked, doing a little drum solo on the door in, what appeared to be excitement. "I'll pick you up at 8." You nodded, not able to contain your huge smile as he tried to awkwardly pull himself back into the car. "Oh," he said, sticking his head out the window a bit. "And wear white." Before you could question him, he sent you a wink, and then, the car was off speeding down the street.

You began to absent-mindedly walk the rest of the way home, all plans of going to the arcade having fled your mind, replaced with the thought of going on a date with Patrick. Your first date!

You really didn't know what he saw in you. He was so charming and handsome, and you were just... you. You weren't exceptionally attractive like Shelly Benson and Daniel Klein or outrageously popular like Greta Bowie and Jackson Pines. You were smart in subjects you enjoyed and not as smart in one's you weren't, and you had average social skills but never really made friends, just acquaintances.

You were just normal.

And so you stood, staring at yourself in the mirror as you examined every inch of your outfit, desperately trying to look less like yourself. You sighed in frustration, running a hand through your hair with a huff as you turned around, refusing to look at yourself any longer.

Your room was your safe space. The walls were covered in posters of your favorite bands, celebrities, and movies. You wondered what it felt like to be so effortlessly flawless as you stared around at all the beautiful people littering your walls.

Aside from the posters, your room was quite cohesive. You had chosen an excellent set of neutrals to pair with your accent color (which was your favorite color, of course), and it created a very attractive and appealing color pallet.

The sound of a knock on the apartment door made you snap out of your admiration of your room. Leave it to you to critique your artistic excellence when you're on a time crunch.

You took one last look in the mirror before taking a breath and exiting your room. You proceeded down the hall and through the living room. With one last mental reassurance, you turned the knob and opened the door.

Patrick had been practicing and planning his moves precisely. He had to shower you with compliments and be completely polite. It would let your guard down, and that's when he could strike.

The door opened, and Patrick's gaze fell on you. Even he had to admit, you were undoubtedly attractive, but it wasn't companionship he was after. It was relief.

So, putting on his best show, he opened his mouth as if he was going to speak before closing it and giving you a once over, trying his best to seem in awe of you.

"Wow," he breathed with an awkward chuckle. "You look," he let out a puff of air, motioning to you as if he couldn't find the words. "I mean- you look perfect."

He watched in satisfaction as you smiled sheepishly, gaze averting to the ground. "Thank you," you replied. You looked back up and playfully said: "And you don't look too bad yourself," in an attempt to play it cool, but Patrick could see right through you. You were falling for his charm, and how could you not?

He was a God, after all.

"So," you asked, stepping out of your apartment and shutting the door behind you. "Where are we going this fine evening?"

"Well," Patrick started, placing his hand flat on your lower back as you two walked down to the record shop on the first floor. "I know this perfect spot in the woods away from town-" You gave him a concerned look, and he chuckled lightly at your fear. "I know how it sounds, but there's a firepit me and the boys set up out there, and it has a great view of the stars because there's no light pollution out there."

You bit the inside of your cheek, and Patrick felt his pulse begin to quicken. It seemed like you were going to back out. Should he have told you? Or just let you panic when they got there?

"Okay," you nodded, turning to him with a smile as you made up your mind. "I don't love the idea of a first date in the woods, but I'm like 99% sure you're not an axe murderer or anything, so," you trailed off.

Patrick gave you a wolfish grin. Oh, if only you knew that he was a predator and you were his prey— so innocent and oblivious to the things that the night had in store for you.

The two of you walked out of the store, and Patrick read the shocked look on your face as you saw Belch's Trans Am, which was then followed by discomfort and then relief when you noticed his friends hadn't accompanied him.

"Took some convincing, but I got Belch to let me borrow Amy," Patrick said proudly as he took one long stride forward and opened the car door for you.

"He named his car?" You asked with a little giggle as you climbed into the passenger's seat. "That's cute."

"Yup, although cute isn't the word I'd use," Patrick replied before shutting the door and walking around to the driver's side.

"And what word would you use?" You asked, amusement coating your tongue and dancing in your eyes.

"Demented," he said, giving you a look as he started the car. It was ironic coming from him, and he knew it. If anyone was demented, it was the pyromaniac freak who killed animals and was tricking a girl into thinking he liked her when really he was taking her to the woods to kill her.

"That's interesting coming from someone with such a," you paused, for a moment, thinking for the right word. "Colorful reputation."

"Touché," he shrugged, pulling out of the spot he was parked in and continuing down the road to the woods. The car settled in an awkward silence as neither of you really knew what to say. Patrick knew he should ask you questions and engage with you, but to be honest, he didn't really care about what you had to say.

"Let's see what Belch has in his glove compartment," you said with a grin. Patrick's blood began to boil again. Not because you were invading Belch's privacy— he quite liked that part, actually. No one was ever allowed to look in the glove compartment. In fact, he had specifically told Patrick not to and that he would know if he did, and now Patrick could satisfy his curiosity while blaming it on his date.

No, his blood was boiling because of how casual you were. Most people would ask a stupid question to fill the silence or just sit in it, but you found a way to light heartedly and nonchalantly attempt to start a conversation. It was Infuriating to him how different you were.

Patrick considered himself an expert on human behavior. After all, it was his world, and everyone else were pawns, so growing up, he had to learn about people. He had to pick up on their little habits and understand why people did certain things so he could manipulate them and use them as playthings.

But you were different, and that's what infuriated him so much. You were still plenty easy to manipulate, but you had little quirks and ways of doing things that he'd picked up on that went against his understanding of the human condition.

You were defective, and that's why he had to get rid of you. You weren't normal. You weren't a plaything or a pawn.

You were a threat.

Patrick glanced over at you, watching for a moment as you rummaged through the glove compartment.

"Eyes on the road, pretty boy," you said absent-mindedly. "I don't plan to die tonight, and especially not at the hands of you." This made him internally smile. That was the second reference you'd made tonight of him hurting you and each time you had been wrong. You were going to die tonight— a very painful death— and the blood would be on his hands.

"He has got a lot of tapes in here," you observed aloud, pushing things around a bit more before a gasp left your lips. Patrick looked over again as you pulled out a pink piece of paper with a red lipstick stain in the shape of lips and a message in a hot pink sparkly pen that read: I really enjoyed tonight. We should do it again sometime =).

"No fucking way," Patrick said in shock, a laugh leaving his lips as he registered what he was seeing. "I can't believe that fat fuck actually gets bitches."

"Hey," you scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Don't be mean," you defended. "I think it's really sweet, and clearly, he knew you'd be an ass about it," you rolled your eyes. "He really tried to hide it in there."

Patrick turned the car into a little dirt road and parked. He knew no one would be out there that late, so the car wouldn't be seen. "Here we are," he announced before climbing out and making his way to the passenger's side to open your door.

"Don't take this the wrong way," you started as you got out of the car. "But I did not expect you to be such a gentleman." Your eyes followed Patrick as he grabbed a blanket out of the backseat and tucked it underneath his right arm before approaching you.

"Well," he said, linking your arm in his left one. "I don't usually care what people think," he confessed, one of the few true things he'd actually said to you, but of course, he was about to follow it up with a lie. "But with you, it's different." He looked over at you, only to find you staring. If he wasn't making an attempt at faking vulnerability right now, he would have smirked at how enamored you were by his words.

"And why is that?" You asked quietly, hypnotized by the way the darkness created shadows on his face that seemed to define it so well. Almost as if the darkness suited him better, which was odd considering usually the light was more well-defining to people.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met, and I don't want to scare you away," he professed, his voice seeming genuinely sincere, but obviously, that wasn't the case.

"That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," you said sheepishly, a soft smile falling upon your lips. You both walked in silence for a moment, the cruching of leaves and the chirping of crickets ringing through the vast area. "Wow," you breathed out, eyes glued to the sky. "You were right. The stars look amazing out here."

"Told you," Patrick grinned before unlocking your arms and advancing forward. You two had reached a clearing, and he was approaching the firepit in the middle. Surrounding the firepit, which was clearly homemade as the stones surrounding it were just stacked on top of each other haphazardly, were various random chairs and a long bench that looked surprisingly comfortable.

"This place looks cozy," you said, eyes sweeping over the area. A chill ran down your spine as a breeze blew through the clearing. The air seemed to grow thick, and something in your gut told you to run— leave now and never look back.

You would soon wish you listened to that feeling.

Instead, you walked forward, taking a seat on the bench as Patrick doused the wood inside the firepit with lighter fluid before grabbing a lighter from his pocket and setting it ablaze.

A wave of warmth fell over you as the clearing lit up gold. Patrick straightened up and came to sit beside you on the bench. You were so focused on examining your surroundings that you didn't notice Patrick carefully grab the knife that he'd hidden inside the folded blanket and tuck it under his leg before unfolding the blanket and placing it across you both.

"So," you grinned, finally looking over at him. "Do you bring all your conquests here?"

"Just the hot ones," he smirked. You rolled your eyes, laughing at his remark. "No, but seriously," he let his smirk fall into a soft smile. "You're the only one."

You looked into his eyes and couldn't sense any deception. God, those beautiful eyes. You didn't didn't think they were capable of telling a lie.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but Patrick didn't have a soul, so his eyes were more like mirrors, reflections of what he knew people wanted to see when they sought out answers to questions that were better left unsaid.

You stared at each other, the air growing thick with tension as the urge to kiss him overwhelmed you. Your faces slowly inched closer together. "Patrick," you whispered, a wanting evident in your voice.

He reached up to cup your face with his right hand as his left carefully, discretely retrieved the knife from under his leg. He moved his face in, and you were sure he was going to kiss you.

But instead, he moved to the right, his mouth next to your ear as he plunged the knife he had deep into your stomach. You let out a choked cry of surprise and pain as your mind raced with a million thoughts at once, all of them so loud that you couldn't think rationally at all.

"Aw, Y/N," Patrick said darkly, feigning disappointment as he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "I told you that you should've been afraid of me."

He pulled away, twisting the knife to create irreparable damage before pulling it out. He watched as you cried out in pain, hand clutching your stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"But you were too pathetic," he spat. He ran the bloodied knife across your cheek, slicing it open before pushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just a desperate little whore."

"Why?" You sobbed, tears streaming down your face from the burning pain. Blood began pouring out of your mouth due to the damage to your internal organs, and you knew you were going to die.

"Because I wanted to," he replied with a crazed grin, his tone of voice indicating that he believed it was the most obvious thing in the world. You had never been more fearful than you were now. Not just because you were dying, bleeding out in front of a boy you thought liked you, but because of the look in Patrick's eyes.

They were devoid of any emotion, as if killing someone didn't matter to him at all. You would have even preferred for him to look like he enjoyed it; that's how disturbing his absence of emotion was to you.

Patrick sat there and watched as you bled out before him. The glossed over, far away look in your eyes made his whole body ignite. It just felt so good.

Finally, the itching was gone, and he could live in peace for a little while more. He sat on the bench beside your lifeless body for awhile more, relishing in the feeling of freedom; it had been so long since he had felt that. When he was fully satisfied, he began cleaning up. He threw the blanket in the still burning fire before running back to Belch's car to grab the shovel he'd brought.

Sweat clung to him, sticking his shirt to his chest as he dug the hole where your body would lie. It seemed to take hours, and the feeling of sweating but also being cold was very unpleasant, but finally, he got the hole dug.

He threw the bloody knife inside and grabbed your body, picking you up bridal style and hauling you over to the hole. He dropped your corpse carelessly into your makeshift grave and didn't give you a second thought before he began shoveling the dirt back into the hole.

When he was finished, he walked back to the Trans Am, wrapping the dirty shovel in the other blanket he had brought so no dirt would get into the trunk of Belch's car. And, no one would question dirt in the driver's seat of a teen boy's car, so he wasn't overly worried about his dirtied hands and jeans.

For weeks, Patrick felt amazing. It was the longest Patrick had ever gone without feeling the compulsion to kill. Of course, he still tortured small animals, but that was for fun rather than necessity.

But then he started to see you.

At first, it was just glimpses. Like, when he was brushing his teeth, he'd lean down to spit out his toothpaste, but when he straightened himself out, there you were— standing beside him, blood staining your clothes and the cut on your cheek that he had gave you still fresh. But then, once he blinked, your figure was gone.

He would see you around like that sometimes, not frequent enough to cause concern that he was gaining a conscience. Just enough for him to think he was suffering from a bit of sleep deprivation.

He wasn't worried about being caught. The police hadn't found your body, and when he was questioned as to what happened that night on your date, he said that the two of you had planned to go out to the woods, but on the way there, you two got into an argument because you had been snooping through Belch's things and you got so furious that you demanded to be let out of the car right then and there. Belch, of course, backed this story up because he could tell someone had disturbed his glove compartment.

Soon enough, however, you began to haunt his dreams as well. He would have terrible nightmares of you coming back from the dead and murdering him in cold blood, just as he had done to you, and then, when he awoke, you were standing in the corner of his room.

It wasn't just his brain making shapes out of things to scare him. It was you. He could see clear as day; the moonlight illuminated your face, your once innocent and naive eyes now staring at him with hate and malice.

Patrick Hockstetter didn't believe in ghosts, but he believed in you.

"Dude, what's your fuckin deal?" Henry asked, snapping Patrick out of his thoughts. Patrick looked over at Henry from his spot, splayed out on the hood of Belch's car, which he had objected to until Patrick threatened him. The four boys were hanging around at the quarry, drinking beer as music blasted through Amy.

"What?" Patrick questioned, hostility lacing his voice. Who did Henry think he is speaking to him like that?

"You're not even listening, man," Henry complained, attempting to throw a crumpled up beer can at him but missing.

"Maybe because you fuckers don't have anything interesting to say," Patrick shrugged, looking to his left at the water and tuning their conversation out again.

You had been on his mind non-stop. All he could think about was your eyes. They were so real. That look of hate— he had seen it before in his mother and father after he killed his little brother Avery. He couldn't have imagined that so vividly.

"Do I scare you?" A familiar voice asked, voice a mere whisper as a breeze tickled his ear. He quickly turned and saw you. You were sitting right next to him on the hood of Belch's car, and this time, he was sure he wasn't imagining it. You were there in broad daylight. He had heard you. He had felt your breath across his ear.

But how was this even possible.

"What the fuck!" He shouted, genuine fear in his voice. He felt something he had never felt before as he tried to shuffle away from you, but there was nowhere left to go, so he ended up falling off the car and onto the ground.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" Victor asked, his eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as he registered the panic and fear— he had never seen Patrick exhibit such emotions, and he could tell by the look in Patrick's eye that they were not fake.

Patrick couldn't hear Vic over the sound of your laugh. It was so loud, deafening even, and it made his ears ring. You hopped off the car and walked toward him slowly with a sickening grin.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked, scrambling backward, pebbles and rocks digging into his palms as he tried to escape you.

"Because," she stepped forward, leaning down and grabbing his faded yellow Tom and Jerry t-shirt by the collar. He felt her grab him. It was all real. "I can," she spat viciously. And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

"Are you alright, man?" Belch asked, genuine concern lacing his voice as his brows knitted together. Why had his friend been acting so strange?

"I-I need to get out of here," Patrick spoke quickly as he rushed to his feet, dusting off his clothes and looking around frantically.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Henry cackled, taking a long sip of his beer. Patrick gave him a hard, warning glare that confused Henry. What did he do?

Patrick took off running into the forest, driven by a pure, unbridled fear as he tried to escape you, but the faster he ran, the louder your laugh became. It echoed all around him. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once. He clamped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.

And then, just like that, it stopped. He slowly opened his eyes and removed his hands from his ears, peering around the woods. He heaved a sigh of relief as he realized it was over.

It wasn't real.

You weren't real.

He took his time walking back home, stopping and tormenting a few animals on his way to relieve some of the stress that had built up from the games his mind had played on him.

By the time he arrived home, the sun had long disappeared below the horizon, replaced by the luminous glow of the full moon. He pushed the front door open, kicking his muddy boots off by the front door before shrugging his leather jacket off and tossing it onto the floor.

"Ma!" He called into the oddly silent house. He advanced forward, his eyebrow arching as he didn't get a response. "Ma, I'm home!" He tried again, still no answer. He continued through the house into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat.

As his eyes scanned the kitchen, a tiny post-it note stuck to the fridge caught his attention. He took two long strides and ended up in front of it. Grabbing it off the fridge, his eyes scanned it.

Gone to see your father. Be back in a few days. I left some lasagna in the fridge for you to heat up and some money on the table for pizza or something in case you eat all of it.

Love, Mom

Patrick scoffed, crumpling the post-it into a ball and tossing it into the trash. Patrick's father was arrested for attempted murder when Patrick was young.

After Patrick killed his brother Avery, his father went mad and tried to kill Patrick. He claimed that Patrick was evil, and the world needed to be rid of him. Fortunately for Patrick, his mother still loved him (he had no idea why she still did after what he had done), and she called the police.

The paramedics arrived in time, and Patrick was saved. Though the attack did leave a raised scar on his stomach that never went away.

Patrick pulled a plate out of the top cupboard and a fork out of the drawer before opening up the fridge. He grabbed a can of Coke and the large glass dish with lasagna out. Deciding he didn't feel like waiting for it to heat up, he just used his fork to pick the pre-portioned slice of lasagna out of the dish and drop it onto his plate before sliding the rest back into the fridge for later.

Grabbing his beverage and dinner, he began making his way up the creaky steps that led to the second floor.

The carpet that had previously adorned it had been ripped up when his mom was having one of her overly energized and productive moments, so staples and other sharp objects stuck up from the dirty wood. He was careful to avoid them.

He reached the door at the end of the hall with a yellow sign that read DO NOT ENTER and swung the door open.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

Tags : @fatfagsj @brokenloverr24

#patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #the bowers gang #it 2017 #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick x reader #henry bowers #victor criss #reginald huggins #belch huggins #it x reader

791 notes · View notes

pleasantlycrazyworld · 4 months

Text

The boys as pet parents

This is a continuation of this post!

Billy:

He is a cat dad. I will not take any disagreements on this.

I feel like him having a pet kitten would really calm and heal him in a way. He now has this little living thing that needs to be taken care of and needs gentle care and even though he has no idea how to take care of it he either gets his girlfriend to help or he'll go to Max for advice like what does it eat.

I see him becoming a cat dad in two different ways

His girl already had a cat when they got together

If his girl was already a cat mom he would try to bond with the cat to make her happy. At first he acts like he's too cool to pet a cat and because of this the cat and him really bump heads. He would never tell her this but....he hates that damn cat.

The cat is her baby so it sleeps with her, cuddles with her, sits in her lap and she spoils the cat like it's her baby. But dammit Billy is a baby. He might act like he's a huge jackass but he is a baby underneath that act and he gets so jealous of that damn cat. Why can't he be getting cuddles right now?

I see him bonding with the cat when she need him to take care of it for a day or two. Either she get sick and can't really leave bed or she has to go help/see family and she can't bring the cat with her . He is obviously going to agree, not quickly, because he is a good boyfriend for her. (I see him being apart of the trope I hate everyone but you). The cat fights with him for the first few hours but after dinner Billy is sitting on your couch trying to find something to watch when the cat comes and kneads on his lap before sitting down purring. After that night he is best friends with her cat.

He finds an abandoned kitten and couldn't find it in him to leave them alone

If he finds the kitten abandoned he looks around to see if anyone else is around to take the kitten but he realizes there isn't anyone around and he sighs before picking the kitten up. He acts macho but his heart melts when he notices that the little thing fits in the palm of his hand. He doesn't know anything about animals but he knows he can't just leave the poor thing by themselves so he tucks them into his jacket and drives to a store to try and find supplies for his new kitten.

Steve:

He is a dog dad.

He had a lonely childhood. He was left at home a lot growing up and his parents never let him have a pet. They said he didn't "deserve" one.

Robin is the one who gifted him his dog. She could tell how upset he was whenever he had to go home alone and she knew about how twisted his parents were. She found a puppy at the pound and it had the same eyes as Steve so she thought they had to be soulmates.

When I tell you he spoils this dog I mean he S P O I L S this dog. To him this is practice for his little future nuggets so whatever the dog needs he makes sure he has it at the house.

Eddie:

He is a raccoon dad. We all now this. I've written about it before and I will die on this hill.

As @bloodthirstybreedingbunny and I have talked about (many times) he found his raccoon at the back of a random store. He bonds with the poor thing instantly and when he notices that the mom has either passed or abandoned the little guy he takes it home. At first he has no clue on how to take care of the raccoon so he feeds him leftover fast food and they share many tacos until he learns that the raccoon actually has nutritional needs so he begins to go buy what they need to stay healthy and happy. (the raccoon ends up eating better than Eddie does)

Tagging: @emmyshortcake @succubusmunson @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @lofaewrites @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @seatnights @livinnadaydream @eiightysixbaby

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #the three boys #my favorites #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff

88 notes · View notes

shady-tavern · 10 months

Text

Healing Hearts

Warning for implied Animal and Child Abuse, though nothing graphic, please take care of yourselves.

***

Cloud was a very small and very hopeful cat. Her fur was as gray as the storm clouds she had been born beneath and her family had expected great things of her. She had been very energetic as a kitten, looking forward to finally being big enough that she could help out and be of use.

To finally be as proud as her big brother, as strong as her mother and as crafty and swift as her father. There was plenty to do with climbing trees to look for birds, tracking mice and keeping lookout for the pack of wild dogs.

But as it turned out, Cloud wasn't very good at many, many things. She fell out of trees when she tried to climb them, she rarely landed on her feet and couldn't stealth through tall grass if her life depended on it. She got distracted watching out for the wild dogs and failed to warn her family in time.

"Maybe it's better if you leave," her brother told her one day, annoyed and tired. His heart was clearly troubled and grim with unpleasant determination. "You are ruining the hunt for all of us and it's unfair that we work hard just to keep you fed when you can't do anything for us."

"I'm doing my best," Cloud protested, upset and hurt and panicked at the idea of being all alone. Of being cast out. "Where would I even go?"

He flicked his tail dismissively. "Anywhere that's not here. Mom and Dad already expect a new litter of kittens and it will be hard enough for us to get them through winter without you there, mooching off of us."

When Cloud looked beseechingly at her parents, her father was studiously looking to the side, tail flicking restlessly. His heart was dark and heavy with what they had decided to do and yet he was too scared to meet her eyes, too scared of seeing the pain he was causing.

Her mother was tired and half asleep, her eyes were apologetic but she didn't speak up. Her heart was worn and exhausted and busy guarding the growing lives beneath it in her belly.

"Go," her brother said quietly, brushing past her. "I'm sure you'll find your place somewhere out there."

Cloud didn't leave right away, even as her heart felt cleaved in two. She lingered and skulked along the edges of her home, until at last the silence of her family drove her fully away.

She felt so desolate, it was nothing but pure luck that she didn't run into the pack of dogs or any other trouble. She walked until it started to rain and then she curled up within a hollowed tree along one of the dirt paths humans had made to travel along.

It took her a long moment to notice the whimper over the gentle, steady rain. Her ears flicked and for a second, she considered not getting up. She was grieving and tired and felt as though her heart had turned to paste, but at last she dragged herself to her feet.

Following the noise, she soon came upon a big, black dog, scars across its muzzle and it was tied down to the ground with a fraying, rough rope. Cloud stilled, startled, but the dog didn't react. He just remained curled up, shivering a little.

"Are you alright?" Cloud asked after a moment and the dog blinked one eye open. He looked very sad and very small, even though he was big. His heart was the darkest and heaviest Cloud had ever seen, filled with pain and grief and worthlessness.

"I was a bad dog," the dog said at last, quiet and so mournful it broke her heart a little. "I always mess up everything."

Despite herself and all her family's warnings, she felt a pang of understanding sympathy. She hesitated, then approached the desolate dog, noticing that he was lashed down so tightly he couldn't get up even if he wanted to.

"What happened to you?" she asked, aghast and the dog closed his eyes again, curling up tighter.

"My master didn't want me," the dog said in the tiniest voice and Cloud was horrified, before anger overtook her. She marched up to the dog and started to chew and claw at the rope until the frayed part snapped.

"Get up," she said and nudged at the startled dog until he clambered to his feet. He was too thin to her liking. "You can't stay here."

"Then where do I go?" the dog asked, fur matted and ears drooping. "I'm not gentle enough with children, too stupid for tricks, too dumb for guarding and too cowardly for fighting. I'm good for nothing."

The words hit home harder than Cloud had thought. She, too, was good for nothing. Too clumsy for climbing, too loud for sneaking and too easy to distract for keeping watch.

"I don't know," she answered at last. "I don't know where to go either." At least he was free now.

When she turned around to leave, the dog hesitantly crept after her. When she didn't protest, he followed her all the way to the hollowed and now they were both curled up within. The space was just barely big enough for them to fit.

After a moment of staring outside Cloud got up again and he looked visibly startled when she curled up against his side. He was warm, even if he smelled of stale air and dust.

They remained there as they waited out the rain and night fell. Some owls hooted and a fox screeched and the dog flinched a little, but stayed calm when she didn't react.

At the first hint of dawn, hunger drove Cloud to her feet. The dog followed her again as they walked down the road in the direction most of the humans traveled.

"Where is your family?" the dog asked quietly after a moment.

Cloud had to wait until her throat stopped aching with grief until she could respond, "They don't want me." She glanced up at her big companion. "I'm not good at anything either."

The dog looked upset on her behalf and hesitated, then offered, "Maybe we can be good at something together?"

That made Cloud thoughtful. Maybe the dog was right, she decided as they walked. Maybe if they worked together, they could make it. "Alright," she said at last and the dog perked up hopefully. "Come on, I think I know where to get food."

The dog looked relieved and eager. As they crested the hill, a settlement came into view. Cloud's family had always warned her away from those places, but she had overheard birds chatting with each other, as they watched her try and fail to climb. They found her clumsiness greatly entertaining.

"People leave food they don't eat outside," she told the dog when he hesitated to set foot into the small town. "We'll be careful. And look, it's still early, so barely anyone is awake."

Hesitantly, the dog followed her at last, almost crawling with how small he tried to make himself. Now came the tricky part. Cloud had heard the birds talk about food, but she had no idea where exactly she was supposed to find it.

She made sure no one spotted them, winding around corners and ducking into hiding spots until the dog suddenly lifted his head.

"I smell something. This way." They followed his nose and soon Cloud smelled what he had caught on the wind. The scent of blood and meat.

There was a building where humans clearly did their killing, which was strange but she wasn't going to question it. Not when bits and pieces got tossed outside. The downside was, they weren't the only ones. Other dogs milled nearby, while wary cats watched from the shadows, ready to swoop in and grab what they could.

"We can find food elsewhere," the dog whispered, looking scared of confrontation. Cloud was about to agree, when their stomachs growled. It hurt and the sound his stomach made was so much worse than hers. He needed food. They both did.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her new friend whispering in warning, but to her surprise, he followed still. The dogs paused in their excited staring at the big window and four heads swiveled to look at them.

"Fuck off, kitty," the meanest looking one growled at her, heart sparking in warning like a fire about to blaze bright. "Or you're part of our breakfast."

Her heart was pounding, but even if she was good at nothing, at least she could be brave. She had to be, or they'd go hungry. So when the dog lunged forward with a snarl, she lashed out. It was nothing but pure luck that she had moved when she had.

Her claws dug deep into the dog's nose and with a pained yowl they flinched back, dripping blood and now they looked scared, the fire in their heart doused swiftly. The rest of the pack lunged to attack and it became a frenzy of clawing and biting and her new friend joined the fray, determined but just as bad at fighting as he had said he was.

"Enough!" someone shouted above and they all flinched apart, staring up at a disgruntled human. "There is enough for all of you, so stop or you'll get nothing at all."

Cloud backed up a step and the pack reluctantly did the same. The human sighed and reached inside to start emptying two buckets, making sure to spread it out as much as possible so everyone got something.

"Hungry lot," he muttered as they all started to snap up pieces. Even the other cats hurriedly grabbed whatever had fallen closest to them. The man's heart was kind despite his rough voice and sharp words and Cloud found herself relaxing a little.

Cloud's big friend managed to snag a piece the size of his head, along with something smaller that dangled from one tooth. Cloud herself grabbed the biggest piece she could and they hurriedly retreated until they felt safe enough to eat.

They laid in the sun together afterwards, sated at last and they enjoyed the sun after a rainy day, keeping an eye out for trouble. They soon explored the town and started to map out the alleys and streets. Cloud made a note of which people were nice and which weren't.

There were so many hearts, good and nasty, bright and dark. Many shifted throughout the day, reflecting the emotions people went through. It helped Cloud in figuring out which humans would be willing to share their food, making her seek out the ones who had happy or soft hearts.

The dog managed to sniff out more places that tossed food outside and Cloud managed to be fast enough to swipe a small fish and later a sausage from someone handing it out to other humans in exchange for something shiny.

"We're doing good so far," Cloud said and the dog hummed in agreement, looking tentatively happy.

They found a place for the night and as the days passed, they settled into a new routine. In the mornings they waited by the butcher, as the man and his employees were called, who threw them all the bits and pieces humans didn't want to eat. Sometimes he tossed them things that smelled a little old, as though they were about to rot, but those were still edible enough for the alley animals.

In the afternoons, Cloud and her friend lingered by the market or other places that had nice people and they ate whatever else they were given or tossed. They sometimes got into fights over food or territory, but managed to establish themselves well enough to get by.

She was vicious and her companion was big and even if he wasn't good at fighting, he learned to pin down whoever recoiled after getting hit by Cloud's claws. It wasn't pretty, but they made it work.

One afternoon, while Cloud was looking up at a woman with a kind heart with big, pleading eyes, she noticed a struggling crow overhead. The bird looked to be young and one wing was clearly injured. It flew from the roof to the next, barely making the journey. When it tried to get further away, it tumbled and disappeared in a nearby alley.

Accepting the piece of ham Cloud was given, making a quick, sweet noise in thanks, she hurried to where the bird had fallen. She found it crouched between a half broken crate and a trashcan, looking like it was panicking.

Upon looking closer, the wing wasn't just hurt but tangled up in some kind of see-through, tough string or wire of some kind. The crow's heart was so heavy with grief and fear it might as well have been made of a large stone.

"Do you want some help?" Cloud asked politely around her piece of ham and the struggling bird froze in place, staring at her with wide eyes. "I promise I won't hurt you. Where is your family?"

"Gone," the little bird croaked faintly at last, heart growing even heavier. "I'm alone."

Cloud winced a little. Losing one's family was awful. She set the ham down and carefully approached. The small crow was clearly too terrified to move, but when Cloud started to carefully pull off the string tangled around the wing, the crow inhaled sharply.

When the string was removed entirely, the little crow stared at her in astonishment. A small gurgle of hunger came from the bird's stomach. Cloud thought for a moment, then offered her the piece of ham.

"Can you eat that?" she asked and the bird bobbled a quick nod. "Don't stay here too long, or someone will find you."

With those words, Cloud departed, only to hear struggling hops behind her. Glancing back, she saw that the crow was following, only to stop, ham pinched in her beak.

"Come on then," Cloud decided after a moment and the crow hop-walked to her side hurriedly, glancing around nervously.

Cloud lead the crow back to where the dog was dozing in their hideout and introduced them to each other. It quickly became clear to the bird that she had nothing to fear and the dog was more worried about getting pecked than she was about getting bitten.

And thus, Cloud gained another friend.

They became known as an unlikely trio around town. The little crow, once her wing healed, flew overhead to scout around. They managed to swindle and steal enough food for themselves and kept each other safe from those who did not like having them around.

The hearts of her companions slowly lightened, losing some of the unhappy dimness. They were still burdened, but they had perked up a bit, had regained some of the spirit the world had stolen from them.

Cloud thought they scraped by just fine and she thought about her family in the forest less and less. Her life was going well, most days.

Sometimes they had to fight harder than usual to have something to eat or to avoid mean people and sure, sometimes she was envious of the pets that had cozy, warm homes where they were always well fed, but those feelings always faded away soon.

She could have found a human for herself, but that would have meant abandoning her friends. She wasn't going to do that. Not when she wouldn't have come as far without them.

It was a gray day, as gray as her fur, with a storm rumbling in the distance, shaping up to be as wild as the one she had been born beneath, when she heard crying. It was human-crying as well, not animal-crying.

Humans usually took care of themselves just fine, but something about the sound didn't sit right with her. Peeking around the corner, Cloud saw a young girl sitting crouched beneath an awning, clothes torn at one shoulder. She was pressing herself against a firmly closed door.

"Please, let me in," the girl begged in a keening voice and her heart was an open, bleeding wound in her chest, oozing despair and panic. "I promise I won't do it again!"

"Go away," someone shouted from beyond the door. "Be lucky we don't just burn you at the stake!"

"I promise I'll never do magic again!" the girl begged around a sob. "I promise I'll be good!"

"Don't lie, we both know you're good at nothing and good for nothing," the voice answered harshly. "Go, this is the only chance I give you, for your late mother's sake. She should have never let you live when you were born with the witch mark."

The girl cried harder and begged again, but no voice answered this time. She slumped down the door at last, curling up tight and cried. Cloud hesitated, then slunk forward. The girl looked up at her meow and when Cloud nudged her leg, she found herself scooped up by trembling hands.

The girl was warm and cried until she was too exhausted to continue. The door didn't open and no one came for the girl. Cloud stayed with the girl for so long, waiting, that the dog and crow came looking for her.

"Come on," she said at last and nudged at the girl until she got up and followed them.

The hideout was a little small for a human girl, but they made do, curling around her to keep her warm. Her heart was still open and bleeding, still oozing despair, but the panic had softened and was nearly gone, instead replaced by exhaustion.

They were going to take care of her, Cloud decided and when she looked at her friends, their hearts and gazes reflected that same decision.

It was more difficult to keep a human fed, that was for sure. Cloud and her friends worked hard to get enough food and the girl never complained and helped as much as she could, begging for the shiny coins that the crow started to look for.

She once came back with a piece that made the girl gasp and they didn't go hungry for an entire week. They ate the best food they had ever gotten that week.

The girl was smart, Cloud realized. She knew exactly where they could go to get food and as time passed, Cloud observed her doing strange things. Things no other human did. She stood beneath the full moon and her skin seemed to glow the faintest bit, sometimes she held things in her hands she couldn't have gotten on her own and sometimes she got little glimpses of the future.

Other people started to notice as well sooner or later. They got no more food from the butcher or the other shops and previously nice people avoided them in the streets.

"We don't feed witch-cats," one man who had always given her a piece of fish hissed at Cloud when she meowed sweetly at him. "Leave!"

"My uncle says I'm a witch," the girl murmured when she lit a fire with the snap of her fingers. They had no food tonight, hadn't had much to eat that wasn't stolen out of trash cans in days. "It won't be long now before they decide to burn me. And...I fear what they will do to you."

There was only really one solution then. Cloud exchanged a glance with the dog and crow and that night, while the town slept, they left. On the way out, they stole everything they could.

The crow stood guard outside and sat on windows, watching people sleep as the girl whispered at doors so the locks clicked open. They left with sacks of shinies the girl had used in the past to get food and old skins to stay warm. Next they grabbed food and better, good skins to wrap up in and then they disappeared into the night.

They managed to find their way through the dark, with the crow's eyes in the sky, the dog's nose and Cloud's ears. They fought off whatever dangers came their way as they traveled with cunning and sheer viciousness and a healthy dose of desperate determination.

But as the air grew colder with the passing days, Cloud realized they needed some place to settle. The girl wasn't strong or old enough to make it through winter out in the open and it was slowly growing colder. Luck was on their side at last, when they stumbled across an old cabin, surrounded by a crumbling stone wall.

"A witch's hut," the girl whispered. "I heard rumors that those places draw witches to them when they stand empty for too long, but I didn't think that was true."

It was dusty and smelled old and stale inside, but all the walls were intact, the roof didn't leak and the windows didn't creak. A fire was lit swiftly in the chimney and they curled up, their hearts glad for a dry, warm place to sleep in.

Soon the downright dreary, slightly creepy place transformed. It was as though it came alive the more they made it their home. The floorboards gleamed like they had been recently polished when they were dusted and washed, the walls looked freshly made when the cobwebs were all swiftly removed.

The garden grew and transformed and with each day, the crumbling garden wall seemed to repair itself. Weeds disappeared and vegetables and herbs grew strong and vibrant instead, offering a last, big bounty before winter came.

The brighter and warmer the place became, the more it turned into their home and Cloud watched the hearts of those around her to grow lighter in turn. Relief at having finally found a safe place softened everyone and allowed hope to shine brighter and brighter the more time passed.

They had found a true, proper home at last and after some exploring once winter had passed, they discovered a village nearby. They cautiously ventured into it to trade shinies for things. Soon it was a normal sight for the residents to see the girl with her animal companions.

The local herbalist was willing to take the girl under her wing and as they were accepted by the village, they settled into a better, warmer and well-fed life. The girl grew older and as the years passed, Cloud noticed that she didn't really age anymore and neither did the dog and crow.

"Well, you're my familiars now," the witch said, carefully cleaning off small crystals she had found in a river. She smiled wide and happy. "That means we're family for as long as you want to be."

Oh, that was very sweet. Cloud cuddled up to the witch and got the best scratches in return.

"You know," the dog said that evening as they dozed on the thick, soft carpet in front of the warm fire. Snow was slowly falling outside, but they felt none of the cold bite inside. "I'm so glad you found me that day. Even if I'm good at nothing, I still have a life I could have never dreamed of."

Cloud frowned at that. "But you are good at many things," she said and when the dog looked ready to protest, she hurriedly tacked on, "Your nose saved us many times and you always found food for us no matter what. You kept us from going hungry."

The dog ducked his head, bashful but hopeful so she kept talking, "Even if you say you can't fight because you're too cowardly, you always helped me no matter how scared you were. That's real bravery, you know?"

"Oh." The dog was quiet for a long moment, then whispered, "You really think so?"

"Yes, there is no doubt," Cloud said firmly.

The crow flapped down from her perch in the rafters and nodded. "You're strong and big and warm and you always take care of us," she said. "Whoever told you you're good for nothing lied to you. You guys..." She hopped a little closer, voice going warm. "You're my family. When I had nothing, you came and gave me everything."

The dog gently nudged their heads together with a little rumble. "And you're mine." He was quiet for a long moment. "I...never thought about it that way. Do you really think I'm pulling my weight?"

"A hundred times over," Cloud said with certainty, then nudged the crow as well. "And you're our family too."

The crow chirp-cawed happily and they laid snuggled together on the carpet. The crow was asleep and Cloud was about to doze off when the dog murmured, "You're no good-for-nothing either."

Cloud opened one eye and he shifted his head to look at her. "You saved me when no one else would have and you have done the same for our crow friend and our witch." The dog tipped his head a little to the side. "And then you helped us figure out how to survive. We wouldn't have made it if we hadn't all stuck together, if you hadn't found us. So, you know, you're definitely good at something."

Cloud was wide awake now while the dog fell asleep, snoring ridiculously loud within moments. She watched the dog and crow a moment longer, then looked up to where their witch was making a protective charm for a worried villager.

When the witch noticed her staring, she looked up and smiled. "Sleep," the witch whispered. "We're safe here. Safe and happy and we're going to stick together, won't we?"

Cloud chirped a little noise in agreement and settled down. Her heart felt full and as warm as the fire they laid near.

Without realizing, without even meaning to, she had ended up getting everything she had ever wanted. A family that loved her and a purpose, as strange as it may look to others. And sure, she wasn't good at any of the things other cats were good at, but now she didn't have to be. Now it was a good thing that she was strange and different.

She fell asleep with a smile and in the morning the world outside was snowy and cold, but her heart still glowed bright and warm. And when the witch looked knowingly at all of them, when Cloud noticed that they all walked unburdened, she realized they had done it.

They had healed the wounds on their hearts.

#my writing #short story #finding love and family in the most unexpected places #just a little thing I found myself writing #hopefully someone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it #a bit of a different thing to my usual stories I think #hopefully I didn't overlook too many mistakes #implied child abuse #implied animal abuse #just so you know in case that is a no-go for you #be sure to take care of yourself #i have no idea how tagging works #magic #witch #familiars #and families

154 notes · View notes

roseaesynstylae · 10 months

Text

Here’s some random ideas about pets.

Mihawk: Owns a dog. Not just any dog, however, but a goofy Golden Retriever who doesn’t have a mean impulse in his body and almost certainly has no brain cells either.

Law: Also owns a dog. In his case, it’s a cute little puppy that came up to him on the street with the tail wagging and these floppy ears and a face that said “Henlo! We frens?!” Cue the adoption and Law’s heart growing a few sizes.

Akainu: Owns a dog of unknown gender that virulently loathes everyone who isn’t him. Recruits have learned to dread the sound of its toenails clicking. There are many who fantasize about throwing it overboard, even animal lovers.

Kid: The world’s worst-tempered cat has latched on to him. The only people it (no one has the courage to check its gender) likes are Kid and Killer. Everyone else shudders in terror when asked to pet sit.

Drake: Reptiles. There are dozens of snakes and lizards he keeps in his house. Mention them and he’ll keep you prisoner while he rants about every detail of their life lives. There have been a few unfortunate occurrences when people staying over with him have woken up to a snake on them.

Bege: Owns a pair of giant, mastiff-like dogs. They look intimidating but they’re total sweethearts in reality. The only time this wasn’t true was when Chiffon was pregnant. They became extremely protective, snarling at everyone, even him, when she was approached. Bege applauded this. Currently, they’re the world’s best babysitters to Pez.

Doflamingo: Has an entire aviary of birds that he dotes on and treats much better than he does everyone else. No one, and I mean no one, interrupts him when he’s with them.

Katakuri: While he has a dog (a big one, so he can keep track of her better), there’s an entire clowder of cats that lives with him. The story of how he acquired them is pretty sad, though: A few years back, he accidentally stepped on a mama-cat. Feeling really guilty, he decided to take care of the kittens. One thing lead to another and he ended up a cat dad.

King: Has a bunch of animals he rescued from experiments. He takes out all altruistic/paternal/“soft” feelings on them so they don’t get in the way of his job. At least, that’s his excuse for why he dotes on them.

Page One: Has several cats and looks forward to them eating his corpse when he dies.

Yamato: Has an entire pack of dogs that accompany him. They sleep together in a cuddle-puddle.

#one piece #trafalgar law #dracule mihawk #eustass kid #akainu #x drake #capone bege #donquixote doflamingo #charlotte katakuri #king one piece #page one #yamato one piece

154 notes · View notes

book-place · 2 years

Text

Of Cats and Angels

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Castiel x child reader, Winchester brothers x sister reader

Request: heyo its me :))) could i request a platonic castiel x reader, where reader adopts a cat and they play w/ it? dont feel pressured to do it if you dont feel like it <33

Request by: @foggy-isnt-here

*not my gif*

Summary: Finding a cat on the side of the road with your babysitter angel… what could go wrong?

A/N: Get it? Instead of ‘Of Mice and Men’?… I’ll leave now

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted as he looked down at the carpet, “Is it supposed to be doing that?”

You giggled, putting a hand over your mouth as your rocked back and forth slightly, sticking your hand out to pet the kitten below you, “It’s just sneezing, Cassie.”

“Is it sick?” The angel was beginning to grow concerned. What was he supposed to do if the young thing got sick?

Another laugh escaped your lips, “No, silly! It’s just sneezing.”

“You said that already.” He mumbled, gently petting the small thing with his large hands.

Your brothers, Sam and Dean, were out on a simple hunt for the day, and seeing as you were only five and couldn’t be left in the bunker all by yourself, they asked Cass to babysit you for a couple hours.

He did it very gladly, always enjoying your company.

The two of you had gone into town in the beginning for a quick ice cream run- as insisted on by you- and were just about to go back home when you had heard a tiny ‘meow’ coming from behind a trash can.

You had rushed to take a closer look before Cass could stop you, and you had gasped when you came across a tiny orange and white kitten laying down on the ground.

It had no collar and there were no people around to claim it, so you had used your best puppy dog eyes on the angel to beg him to let you take it home, and he hesitantly agreed- not able to refuse you when you were making that face.

He had made you promise though that you would both bring it back before Sam and Dean got home, knowing they would either throw a fit or have a heart attack if they saw it- quite possibly both.

It mewed again softly and crawled its way over Cass’s foot, and began chewing slightly on the toe of his shoe.

“That is not food.” He tired explaining to it, lifting it up and putting it slowly on the ground right in front of you.

You weren’t really paying attention to him though, as your eyes were narrowed slightly in concentration, “We need to name him.” You mumbled, rubbing a hand on your chin like you had seen Dean do when he was thinking.

“Is that the best idea?” Castiel asked hesitantly, “I have heard that naming something can make you attached to it, and we need to give this back.”

You weren’t paying him any mind, though, as you continued to rub your hand against your chin, “I got it!” You finally announced, sticking your pointer finger up in the air, “Sir Fuzzy-Bottom Mittens!”

The angel stayed silent. Blinking at you once. Twice. Then looked down at the kitten before him, observing, “It is fitting.” He admitted, reaching over and petting him again.

You squealed in excitement, a large smile growing on your face, lifting Sir Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens to your face and rubbing his nose with yours, “I love you, Sir Fuzzy-Bottom Mittens.” You declared happily.

Castiel knew that at the moment, no matter what he did, nothing would separate you from your new found cat/ best friend, and he didn’t think it would be wise to even try.

The next hour was spent with the two of you playing with him using yarn, brushing him with Sammy’s hairbrush, and you even tried to teach him how to play fetch with some of Dean's socks.

The grin never once dropped from your face, and that made Castiel happy because he knew that there was nothing that could take away that joy from you at the moment.

That is, until the door to the bunker opened.

“Hey, we’re home!” Dean's voice rang through the halls, and yours and Castiel's eyes widened in horror.

“Where are you guys?” Sam called, his footsteps being heard getting closer and closer to your room.

Both of you scrambled up, blocking the cat just in time for the door to open and both of your brothers to step in.

“There you are.” Dean said with a grin, striding over with a smile and trying to pick you up so he could hug you.

You dug your heels firmly into the rug though, keeping put on the ground.

This made his eyebrows furrow as he pulled away, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He and Sam both glanced between you and Cass, neither one of you allowing yourselves to make eye contact with the brothers.

A tiny sneeze was then heard throughout the room.

The boy's eyes widened and they quickly craned their necks to look behind you.

“Is-is that a cat?” Dean stuttered out in shock, staring with wide eyes at him.

“Wh-huh-how-“ Sam continued to stutter, unable to believe his own eyes.

“His name is Sir Fuzzy-Bottom Mittens.” You grumbled, crossing your arms and glaring cutely at the floor.

“Sir, what?” Dean yelled out in horror.

“Dean, listen,” Cass tried to reason, “It’s not that bad-“

“Not that bad?” His voice was strained, “Cass, do you have any idea-“

“Are you going to get rid of him now?” Your little voice cut Dean off as you looked up at your brothers with wide and tearfilled eyes.

“Well, I mean-“ Sam fell short as he looked at you and he could practically see your hopes and dreams being shattered in your eyes, “We can keep it.” He gave in with a sigh.

“We can?” Both you and Dean shrieked at the same time, both with very different tones and both for very different reasons.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You cheered, throwing yourself into Dean's arms and latching onto him like a koala.

As he looked down at you- just like Cass- he knew he couldn’t say no.

Instead, he signed and leaned down to kiss the top of your head, “Yeah, kid, we can keep it.”

“Hear that, Cassie?” You asked excitedly, turning to the trench coated angel.

He smiled lightly, “I heard that, Y/n.”

He sat down on the other side of you, reaching out to pet Sir Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens and continue to play with the two of you, closely followed by Sam and Dean.

“Okay, Mr Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens,” Dean mumbled, gently picking the tiny thing up, “guess you’re apart of the family now.”

“Sir Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, Dean.” Cass corrected.

Dean slowly turned his head to look at the angel, blinking once before shaking his head and looking back down at the cat, “Sure, whatever you say.”

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #supernatural #child reader #castiel x platonic!reader #castiel x reader platonic #castiel x child!reader #castiel #dean winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #Sam Winchester

620 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 11 months

Text

The House We Built: Part 1 (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: For the longest time, you and Miles have wanted a home of your own and it’s not long before your happiest dream becomes your reality.

It all started with an empty Maxwell House Coffee can and a dream that you and Miles had brewing in your heads for the longest time. Ever since he had been in Vietnam and had come home to you, you both had a dream of finding a place for you two to live out your lives together.

Miles stood at the desk, just staring at the coffee can after the last guest had checked in an hour before. His eyes stayed fixed on it as though he were waiting for something to happen, waiting for a magical genie or some sort of dragon or a baby troll to pop out. At least, that seemed to be the route his thoughts had been taking ever since he had gotten help for the severe PTSD that had kept him awake at night after returning to the states. Miles had always thought about those things, even before the war, but for some reason, they were much more prominent now.

Miles jumped when a hand had landed on the desk bell, but when he looked up, he was relieved to see that it was only Otis, his father. “You falling asleep again?” Otis laughed.

“Nah, just thinking, Dad,” Miles yawned.

Otis nodded, adjusting ten month old Benny in the curve of his elbow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked his son.

“Yeah, time to get the hell out of Lake Tahoe,” Miles said, the bored tone creeping its way in.

“My thoughts exactly,” Otis chuckled. “It’s nice here, but there’s too many people moving out this way. Your Ma and I can’t even get a mobile home over at the trailer park for a decent price.”

“What about the money from when you sold the house in Indiana?” Miles asked him.

“I ain’t touching it until the time is right,” Otis told him firmly. “Besides, your mother would have a certain body part of mine if I did.”

All of a sudden, Benny began to stretch his arms all the way out, making grabby hands for Miles. “Ok, ok, that’s the ‘I want Daddy’ look,” Otis mumbled.

Otis handed Benny right off to Miles and no sooner had he done so than Benny did as he always did, his head dropping right to Miles’s shoulder as the ten month old sucked away on his pacifier. “You’re definitely tired little man,” Miles chuckled.

Miles clocked out as soon as the next desk clerk clocked in for his shift, heading back to the quarters he shared with you to grab Benny’s knit blanket and his stuffed puppy. He and Otis both retreated to the back porch, taking a seat in the creaky old rockers and each with a glass full of a cool drink to stave off the afternoon heat that was hanging over Lake Tahoe. June had come at last and with it, wildfire season as well as the summer camps who would soon flood the corner stores on evenings when they would come down for ice cream. Yet summer had been the best months for you and Miles.....slow, easy and relaxing....just as it should have always been.

“Where’d you get the coffee can?” Otis asked, pouring a small Jack Daniels nip into his glass.

“Found it on the way back from the bank this morning,” Miles told him as he slowly rocked Benny to sleep. “I honestly have no idea why I picked it up. Maybe I went crazy again and started collecting garbage.”

“Nah you’re not crazy, trust me, I did the same thing when I got back from Okinawa,” Otis told him, cracking into a can of Coke. “Now Mrs. Burns who lived down the street from us? THAT was crazy, right there.”

“Oh God,” Miles chuckled. “Crazy old bat was up to her eyeballs in that hoarder den she called a house. I swear Chubby came from her lot.”

Otis cackled at the memory of the little grey tabby kitten that had become attached to Miles at three years old, growing old and happy under the Millers’ roof until St. Francis had called him back home. “Fuckin cat would follow your mother to work in the truck like he was a dog.”

As they talked on, Benny had fallen asleep. Miles carefully placed the baby in the playpen near the porch rocker, covering the top and the sides with the thick purple and gold sleeping bag to keep the sun off and Benny cool as he slept with his blankie and his puppy.

“I dunno Dad,” Miles mused. “The more I think about it, the more I’m tempted to do something with it. But I don’t know what.”

Otis scratched his chin and thought a minute. “You know,” he said. “A long time back when your grandparents were fresh off the boat from Ireland, your grandma used to stick any spare change she had in a tin breadbox. Maybe that’s the reason you found that empty coffee can.”

Miles gave it some thought and had begun to wonder of his old man was right. Maybe that was all he really needed to do, just stick a little away each day until he had enough.

The door creaked open and that was when he saw you walking in in your pretty denim sundress, your skirts brushing against your knees as you set the paper bags full of groceries down. “You have a good day?” you asked him.

“Just long,” he answered before he playfully kissed you. “Benny’s asleep.”

You two chattered on about your day while Otis offered to make dinner. Benny awoke just as your father-in-law had finished and as soon as Miles was done setting the table for dinner. You picked your baby up out of his playpen, taking his blankie and his puppy and setting it on the bed before you plopped him in his little wooden chair at the table between you and your mother-in-law’s place. Kathy was the last to come home and switch out her nurse’s uniform for a white embroidered sundress and a denim jacket, happy as ever to see you and the rest of your little family.

Dinner was simple, but perfect despite having to be on the cheap, ground beef with seasoning, soy sauce, green onions and a big heap of white rice at the bottom. Benny of course, was a mess as always, but had almost cleaned his plate, something you were more than happy to live with. As soon as the dishes were cleared, washed and put away, you stuck Benny right in the bath, putting his dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

You were in the midst of scrubbing Benny’s hair, the ten month old splashing around in the hot, soapy water and playing with his bath toys while you scrubbed away at the napiness. You looked up at your husband, noting the thoughtful look as he flicked the water on his fingers at Benny and prompted a burst of giggles from the baby.

“Thinking again sweetie?” you asked him.

“Just a little (Y/N),” Miles answered.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I dunno,” Miles sighed. “A place of our own.....plot of land somewhere far away from here.”

So he had been thinking about it again.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Miles sighed again, pushing one of Benny’s little plastic boats closer to him. “I just keep thinking that any day now, we’ll be able to just pack up and go.”

You saw the wistfulness in his eyes, a look you knew too well from the early days of Miles being home from deployment. It was a look he usually got when he was thinking hard and deep. Though Miles hadn’t had a nightmare in over two years, you still wondered if that was where this was leading.

You both finished giving Benny his bath and when he was finally done, you dried him off and stuck him in his little blue pjs, readying him for bed. He was asleep as soon as it was dark, the air conditioning unit cooling the room until you three could sleep comfortably. You gently scratched Miles’s back and shoulders, listening to him purr as you kissed the sweet spots you had practically memorized. He was a little bit more restless than usual, but thankfully no nightmares.

“Baby,” you whispered, your lips pressed against his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he hummed sleepily.

“In my change purse,” you whispered. “There’s Two Fifty left over from the groceries. Put it in the coffee can.”

You felt Miles’s hand gently squeezing your hip. “Baby no,” he said. “I can’t do that to you.”

“Miles,” you whispered. “Please?”

You whispered “please” over and over again, littering his soft cheeks with wet kisses until you were both a giggling mess, trying hard to keep it quiet so Benny wouldn’t wake. “Alright,” Miles half laughed. “I’ll do it.”

Miles tossed aside the covers, moving through the dark to your purse sitting on the chair near the table. He opened up your little wallet and took out the two dollars and fifty cents, still feeling a little guilty of having taken your change. He put it in the coffee can on the bedside stand, crawling back in beside you and pulling you in close.

For the next few days, you, Miles, Otis and Kathy made it a point to start putting your loose change into the coffee can, watching it all grow like a plant in a garden and hoping that soon, it would be enough for your dream home.

#bad times at the el royale #miles miller #miles miller x reader

21 notes · View notes

straight4joekeery · 1 year

Text

Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part eight)

Prev. Part one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week went by slow. Without literally all of his friends he had nothing to do. It was sad and really lonely honestly. So Steve did what any reasonable lonely human would do: get a pet.

He couldn’t get a dog they were way too much work. He had a poodle growing up and it was the most annoying dog ever. He definitely didn’t want to deal with that again. He would get a fish, but they aren’t that entertaining. Reptiles were horrifying and he would easily lose a rodent. So that left him with one option.

On Tuesday he went shopping. He went to the local pet store and bought everything he needed, or rather the cat needed. He bought all of the basic necessities plus a gigantic cat tower, a few too many toys, a harness (because why not?), and a normal amount of cat outfits (only like 25). $200 dollars later the pet store said he’d be able to pick up the kitten on Thursday. The cat was only a month old and was currently named Archie. He knew he was going to change his name, but he didn’t know what to change it to. The cat was all black except for his white paws. Which yes black cats were are supposed to be unlucky, but considering what he’d been through, an unlucky cat was the least of his concerns.

That Wednesday was the longest day of his life. It felt even lonelier in his house. He eventually decided the best way to spend his day was painting random things in his house. Which was an extremely good Idea surprisingly. When he was on his 10th object it was 9 pm (and he’d happily go to bed at 9 pm). Those ten items included: two mugs, little doodles on his mirror, the cup he keeps his toothbrush in, a plant pot, the watering can, a mason jar, his hairspray can, a ring tray, and last but certainly not least a guitar pick. He wasn’t the best artist so most were just ombrés and splatters.

When he woke up the next morning he immediately got dressed and ready. He couldn’t stand one more second of being ‘Sad Sack Steve’. He ran straight out to his car… but immediately had to go back inside because he forgot his keys. But then he was actually on his way.

He finally made it to the store and oh. Oh my god that was the cutest kitten he’d ever seen. He quickly finished all the nonsense paperwork and went home with a cat in his passenger seat. That’s when it finally hit him that this was a living being, that he had to take care of. That was… weird. A lot of responsibility. And plus he was going up to Indy tomorrow. What was he going to do? He supposed he could talk to his neighbor Amy and ask her to check on him. Amy was weird (to put it in literally the nicest was possible) but it’s better than nothing.

When he pulled in his driveway he walked next door to Amy’s. Thankfully she agreed. He thanked her a thousand times then ran back to the house, cat in hand. The cat was loud. Like extremely loud. But that was a good thing. It wouldn’t be so quiet all the time. Just in that moment, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Steve! Are you okay?”

“Eds? Yeah I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Robin called you like twenty times and when she gave up she called me so I could call you because apparently ‘Steve is way more likely to pick up the phone to you’. Did she tell you she makes me call her each time I get to a new hotel just so she can have each hotels number?” The cat was now meowing like crazy.

“Uhhh no she didn’t. Do you know why she called?”

“She said she just wants to make sure you’re going to Indy tomorrow. Steve… what’s that noise?

“I have a hypothetical.”

“Okay…? What is it?”

“Say I got a little black kitten. What would be a good name for it?”

…

“Hypothetically though.”

“I mean I’d personally name it Ozzy, but I know you personally wouldn’t name-“

“That’s perfect! Hypothetically.”

“Sure. Well I can’t wait to see this hypothetical cat!”

“Yeah yeah. Okay I should call Robin. Bye Eddie.”

“Bye Stevie. Tell Ozzy I said hello.”

“Will do.” He misses him. He misses him a lot. Blah blah blah this is a spiel we’ve all heard one too many times.

He called Robin back and told her that he was going to be there tomorrow. And about Ozzy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ready for round two?” He called out the window.

“Of course!” Vickie yelled as they hopped in the car, “looking good again Harrington!”

“Why, thank you.” They drove back to the bar. They didn’t have a tape in so they just talked. Talked about everything and nothing. When they arrived Vickie pulled him aside.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry if this is weird, you don’t have to answer, but do you think you’re going to end up with Eddie?” She was right. That was weird.

“Uh honestly no. He’s not gay.” She frowned at that.

“Well I personally strongly disagree but if think that, why didn’t you dance with anyone last week?” Good question. He however didn’t know the answer to that.

“I don’t know Vick. I just felt like I had to,” why? Why did he think he had to, “maybe…maybe it was just in case he wasn’t. I didn’t want to chance not being able to be with him. Which I know is stupid because it will never happen.”

“Hey,” she placed he hand on his arm, “that’s not stupid. Again I do think you are wrong,” she sighed. How. How could she think that? What gave her a reason to? “But if you don’t think that, go have fun. Dance with people. Don’t waste you’re time chasing over someone who you believe you will never catch up to.” As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

“Okay. Let’s go. I promise I’ll let loose a bit.” She smiled and linked their arms as they walked inside.

“There you are!” Robin called, “i thought I was going to file two missing person reports!” They walked back to the same barstools they sat at last time and there he was. Trent. He didn’t remember exactly what he did to Steve. But he remembered that he hated him. No clue why. Might have just been angry drunk Steve for all he knew.

“Hey guys!” He smiled at them. Especially Steve. For a weird amount of time, “what can I get for you guys?” Robin was already drinking her Dirty Shirley. She was addicted to those things. She said ‘they are like Shirley Temples but better!’ He was not going to tell her that was the point.

“Can I just get a beer? I don’t really care what kind,” Vickie said. Didn’t peg her as the beer type, but hey! Never judge a book by its cover right?

“Yeah, me too.” Steve said.

“Alrighty! Give me one second!”

“Look,” Vickie said, “I love Trent but he uses the weirdest words sometimes.” Oh! That’s why he hated him last time.

“I noticed that! Last week he said ‘yikes’ like audibly and I almost gagged! I didn’t know people actually said that!” Steve exclaimed (but quietly so he wouldn’t hear).

Robbin giggled, “one time he said my outfit was ‘tubular’,” they all laughed and twisted their faces in mock disgust. Just then he came back.

“Here y’a go!” They said thank you but he didn’t move. He just stayed there. Oh well at least Steve has a piece of eye candy now. God he was hot, “so Steve, what do you do for work?” Yay! More small talk. He knew just the way to this man’s heart. He tried everything to not hate him again.

“I’m a teacher. Junior history,” why’d he elaborate? He surely didn’t care.

“That’s so cool! My favorite class of all time was my junior history. It’s the only class I ever understood. My teacher was the only nice one in the building too.” Woah. He did care. Weird.

“Cool…” cool? Really? That was lame. (LAME??? STEVE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.)

Trent smiled at Steve for a second to long for it to be ‘bro like’, “well let me now if you guys need anything!” And he walked away. He wasn’t sure how to feel about him.

“Wow Steve!” Robin applauded, “look at you go. He was totally into you!”

“Yeah I could tell.” He looked at Vickie and blinked as a cry for help. She just shrugged. Just then the first man of the night walked up to Steve.

“Hey! My names Adam, I was uh wondering if you wanted to dance maybe? My boyfriend… ex-boyfriend just cheated on me and left.” Yikes (REALLY???). He looked towards Vickie and she mouthed, ‘you promised’.

“Yeah. Sure.” Adams face lit up. He held out a hand and he took it.

Now in Robins exact words, ‘you’re dance moves could kill! And by kill I mean make someone want to shoot their eyes out’ which only offended him to the point he cried later that night. But it was fine. Everything was fine.

“Uh Adam?” He looked up at Steve with questioning eyes. Adam was cute. Like adorable cute not I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off cute. “I literally can’t dance. Like at all.”

He laughed, “me neither honestly. But if we hide in the crowd no one would ever see us!” He pulled Steve to the middle of Probably a good hundred people. He smiled. Like actually smiled. He liked this kid.

“How old are you Adam?” He immediately started blushing.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Twenty-six”

“Cool. You like don’t have a boyfriend right?”

He snorted, “No, I’ve actually only officially dated one person, and that was about ten years ago.”

He laughed, “well that guy,” he nodded towards the door, “was my third. And obviously i have some special kind of charm because this same situation happened every. Single. Time.”

“Jeez. That really sucks. I’m sorry.”

He smiled, “nah it’s fine. Never actually liked that guy at least. He was just in a band that was popular at some point and died down,” he laughed, “if I’m being honest I thought I could use him for publicity. That did not turn out well though.” Huh. That’s strange.

He laughed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just kinda coincidental. This one guy that I’ve literally been pinning over for years just left to go on tour.”

“No it’s fine! That is kinda weird. And that really does suck… I don’t think I got you’re name?”

“It’s Steve.”

“Well Steve I’m sorry about that. Does he like you back?” He was convinced neither of them were actually in to each other. But that was okay. He was a super nice kid. (He was literally only three years younger but he was still going to call him kid.)

“Well I am sure he doesn’t but all of my friends think otherwise. Plus I only realized I liked him when he left.”

“Well I know I’m a complete stranger and have no right to say this, but they are probably right. All of my friends told me to stay away Tony because he was no good. And here we are,” Steve didn’t know why he was so calm about this, “hey uh Steve i better get going but,” he took a pen out of his back pocket and wrote on Steve’s arm, “call me. We should hang out. You’re cool.”

“I will. Thanks.” He nodded and walked back to the girls. They were literally jumping up and down.

“How’d it gooo?” Vickie said grabbing his hands.

“Good! He was nice! And we’re going to hang out soon,” he said waving his arm. They gave each other a weird look.

“Hang out?” Robin asked looking very disappointed.

“Yeah. We didn’t click like that. But it’s fine. At least I have more than four friends in the area now!”

“Who’s the fourth?”

“Ozzy, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I had my time. Now it’s your turn, go. Go have fun! But not to much fun!” He called as they ran away. He took a swig of his beer that he’d left there.

“Young love strikes once again!” Trent called from behind him. This dude needed to stop sneaking up on him. But this time he smiled back at him. He just kept staring at him. Like a concerning amount. And he noticed, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothing it’s just..” screw it, “want to dance?” His face got even brighter than Adam’s

“I’d be honored. But I only have like five minutes because I do work here,” they grinned at each other. They made their way to the people again. He caught Vickie looking at him and giving him a thumbs up. He just rolled his eyes at her. “I got the impression last time that your weren’t too fond of me.”

“Sorry it’s just that I get really easily irritated when im drunk. But then I can just switch up and immediately become the giggly drunk that we all aspire to be.”

“I get it. My ex was like that. She was… interesting.” He thought it was so amazing how open people could be about their sexuality’s here. He also just now noticed that they were in fact not dancing but just standing there. Which he was not mad about because again: he could not dance. “I think you’re really neat Steve.” Neat?? Okay this dude was kind of, sort of, really really weird with his vocabulary. But as we established with Eddie: Steve liked weird. (He’s literally been with two dudes that have at least been a little interested, and he’s still Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Edd-)

“You too.” They just stood there looking at each other for a long time. Before Trent leaned in a bit. Woah. This is weird. What is happening.

“Stevie, can I?”

Did he hear him correctly? Did he just call him Stevie? It sounded oddly romantic. The word were ringing in his ears. Oddly. Romantic. But it couldn’t be. That’s all Eddie ever called him. He guesses pet names were meant to be flirty. But no. There’s no way. Eddie could not like him. (THERE IS A MAN IN FRONT OF YOU!! SNAP OHT OF IT!)

He realized he hadn’t responded for a while, “I’m so sorry,” he said. And ran off. He ran outside. He needed air. There was no way. Why was he even thinking this? Did Eddie like him back. He suddenly remembered the phone call from last week.

Okay, love you Eddie. Goodnight.

Goodnight Stevie.

How could he be so stupid? Why did he say that. But he didn’t freak out when he did. He didn’t say it back. But he didn’t say it was weird. And he called him that stupid name again. He thinks back over Vickie’s, Robin’s, and even Adam’a words. There was no way this was happening. Eddie might actually like him. Was he? Wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY. this is the dream I had. This was what this whole fic was based around. I just reread this and realized how choppy and weird the ending was but oh well. I didn’t know how else to make it work. I also didnt at all plan to add Ozzy. I zone out when I write and before I knew it boom he was there. Every steddie fic needs some sort of animal named Ozzy tho. Also I will never stop apologizing for how short these are. It’s actually not that short but still. I’ve been super unmotivated and tired. Really tired. I also would like to make it clear that I hate Trent. He did nothing wrong I just don’t like him. This is a hill I will die on. Oh well. Love Adam tho. Also one of the funniest things to me is whatever trope you think this is, you’re wrong 😈. Anywayyssss. Comment or reblog if you want to be tagged in future parts! And thanks for reading

This will be on AO3 soon I just need to find a time to do it. It will also be extended there most likely.

Tag list: @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy @artiststarme @captain-winter-wolf-aehs @piningapple @rowendyss @steve-themom-harrington @lfaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @importanttimemachinenerd @jehneeg @swagaliciousmarie @mightbeasleep @krazyperson @milkshakeflower @fando-random @bumblebeecuttlefishes @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @fluffyreturns @scheodingers-muppet @wonderland-girl143-blog

41 notes · View notes

twistmusings · 2 years

Text

How Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw would react to petsitting a kitten.

CW: None!

Ace Trappola

Ace is the kind of guy that's going to get his nieces/nephews all riled up and then leave them with his brother in the future, so being around someone's new pet kitten would be the same. He's going to get them into full zoomies mode and then he's content.

He's definitely more familiar with dogs than kittens. If a kitten starts meowing, he's not going to know what they mean and he's gonna have to guess. Imagine him panicking and trying to soothe the kitten while getting food when the kitten has already stopped crying because it climbed up onto his shoulder and just wanted to be close to him, lol.

He has surprisingly strong paternal instincts for the little baby animal. He's secretly a bit of a nurturer.

Deuce Spade

He is fascinated by how small the kitten is. He's seen a lot of grown dogs and cats in his life but this little guy is small enough to fit in one hand still. He just is gonna sit there and hold the kitten in his hands for a while to process just how little it is!!

Deuce hasn't played much with any animals, so he isn't sure how to start. I can definitely see him wiggling his toes subconsciously and getting a kitten to pounce on him and then being very confused why they did that? It's cute but it's trying to eat him? Does every cat parent have to train their cat not to try and eat people? Did the prefect have to train Grim not to eat people!?

If the kitten falls asleep on him, he isn't moving. He can't interrupt it's sleep, it's a growing kitten! He also probably will eventually fall asleep with the kitten laying on him, and it's a very cute sight.

Trey Clover

If we're talking about someone who excels at nurturing, look no further than Trey. He might be more used to caring for siblings and friends, but it extends pretty well into being responsible for a pet. He’s going to know what questions to ask to know how to best take care of the kitten like how often it needs fed or what its favorite toys are.

He wants to keep an eye on the kitten while he takes care of any other chores he’s been given, so he’s probably going to keep the kitten cradled in his arms or in a pocket if he has one on the front of him.

He will make sure he’s playing with the kitten for at least half an hour and making sure he’s getting fed at the scheduled times throughout the day on time like clockwork. He’s extremely trustworthy.

Cater Diamond

Are you kidding me, a kitten is going to do numbers on magicam. If you follow his magicam you’re going to get a full visual diary of his whole time taking care of the kitten.

Cater is best at working out the solutions to problems on a fly, so a lot of his kitten care style is going to be just that: improvisational. He’s going to do his best to intuit what the kitten needs and when. He probably won’t feed or play with it on a schedule, but he will feed and play with the kitten when he thinks the time is right and won’t sweep them under the rug.

Cater makes a lovely place for the kitten to curl up and sleep. Expect to see some cute photos of Cater with the kitten curled up against his neck and then he’ll scroll through social media until the little guy is ready to be up and at it again.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is..... a lot. His approach to caring is a little misguided thanks to the things his mom instilled in him, so he probably approaches kitten sitting with a very rigid idea of what is going to happen in mind. Of course, we are talking about a kitten, here, and kittens are unpredictable and still figuring out how to act like a cat, so I suspect that he’s going to get frustrated with that approach pretty quickly. Thankfully he’s not nearly so harsh toward animals as he would be toward disobedient dormmates.

Riddle is going to be... a little overwhelmed. It’s amazing how fast the kitten can move from one thing to the next and cause a path of trouble in it’s wake. It would be extremely funny for anyone who isn’t him.

He probably eventually would seek out help from Trey or Chenya about how to go about this after he swallows his pride. He’s a bit out of his depth when it comes to caring for a baby animal since they don’t follow rules like he’s used to.

Once the kitten wears itself out and finally conks out for a nap, Riddle will sit down with it on his lap for a while and pet it while he has tea. For as much trouble as it’s caused, the kitten is still pretty cute. He may also take a picture or two to send to his friends, though nowhere near the level that Cater would.

Jack Howl

Bless him but he’s probably going to scare the kitten at first because he’s literally gigantic compared to the little guy. Jack’s going to feel bad for scaring the kitten because it’s not like he means to! Eventually Jack will probably lay belly-down on the floor until the kitten comes to him on his own terms and lets him reach out to pet it. Despite what stereotypes might come to mind, Jack actually really likes cats.

Jack also may bribe the kitten with food just a little bit so that it likes him.

He’s going to get a little emotional when the kitten finally climbs up onto him, and it’s going to be very hard for him to keep it from showing via vigorous tail-wags. He’s very gentle with the kitten when he handles it, and if it will let him, he will pick it up and hold it for a while.

He will also get a little emotional if the kitten starts purring at him.

Ruggie Bucchi

You know damn well that Ruggie is getting paid to pet sit. It’s just who he is, his time is valuable and if he can convince the owner to pay him to take care of a cute kitten then even better.

Since he knows how to speak cat, you can probably catch him baby talking the cat in cat. His use of animal linguistics can be practical sometimes. He’s also going to be very in tune with what the little guy wants and will do great at taking care of him.

He will definitely play with the kitten and teach it to bite fingers, so you should be careful about letting him cat-sit too often. Aside from that, though, he’s a very reliable caretaker for the kitten.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona also knows how to speak to housecats thanks to animal linguistics, though perhaps not as well as Ruggie does. He’s still going to be able to understand enough to know what a kitten is asking for.

You might expect Leona not to take it very seriously, and you’d be partially right. He is an uncle, even if he’s a pretty young one, so he’s used to help take care of a lion cub. A kitten’s pretty similar and less fussy than that so it’s not going to be a problem for him at all. You’re pretty likely to find him relaxing on the couch and letting the kitten chase his flipping tail, though.

He won’t admit it, but he kind of likes the kitten. Unlike his nephew, the kitten doesn’t bring up any unwelcome thoughts about the kingdom, so it’s kind of nice to just get to see and play with a baby... even if that baby is a kitten. He has paternal instincts whether he wants to admit it or not.

If he’s cat sitting, there’s an 80% chance that when the owner gets home they’re going to find him dead asleep on their couch with the kitten curled up and purring on his back.

Bonus - Chenya

Why on earth would you decide to let Chenya kitten sit? Do you know what you just did?

Of course Chenya can communicate with the kitten, and he would more or less immediately declare the kitten is his son and proceed to get into trouble. It’s just how Chenya is.

He will teach the kitten bad habits. He just will. The kitten is going to learn how to open doors and cupboards and how to steal your food when you’re not looking. It’s kind of a nightmare.

He will also teach the kitten the optimal cute look to get out of trouble.

#ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #riddle rosehearts #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #rsa boys #chenya #Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker #sfw;;#fluff #romance #disney tw #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland

65 notes · View notes