#*muffled aggravated noises*

[hiddensushi]

errorcore.

working on a (roughly) 17-page errorcore comic! actually, one question, would you guys prefer if i upload a few pages weekly or drop the whole comic once im done?

the comic is based on a headcanon I came with, what if Error's strings act on an instinctual level, despite him being able to control them well? And uh, Core trying her best to make shit make sense for Error.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I get sunflower for Frank with "I know you're struggling right now, but we'll get through this together, okay?" and "If you want, we can just spend the whole day cuddling"? 💕

You were still blankly staring into the shadows bordering the space when Frank woke, wishing they’d consume you with each slow blink. 

It was early. Too early for you to have been conscious for hours. Too early for you to be fighting back tears as Frank began to wind his muscular limbs around you. You remained silent as Frank planted kisses on your nape, clenching your jaw with such ferocity it was a miracle your teeth didn’t crack from the force. 

“Mornin’, doll.” He rasped, his nose dragging along your exposed skin. The gentle touch made your hair stand on end, a scream building in your throat. You felt trapped, the air around you stale and hot. Frank’s breath roared in your ears, making you squeeze your eyes shut. “You been awake long?”

You hummed noncommittally, hoping Frank would misinterpret the shaky noise as a stifled yawn rather than a muffled cry–though it was probable he’d see right through your effort. Your observant boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand, confident that you were awake even though he had yet to see your face. Most days, that certainty was comforting. Today, you just felt cornered.

“Did ya sleep well?” Frank murmured, sliding an arm underneath your body to cradle you to his chest. Dread plummeted in your stomach, circling into a pit like water flowing down a tub drain. Before you could un-furrow your brow or mask the glassiness of your eyes, you were caught. 

Frank’s soft smile slipped from his face, his expression pinching with concern as his gaze wandered over you. “Hey, hey, hey..what’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

Screwing your face up in a last ditch attempt to stop the inevitable tears from falling, you shook your head frantically. Trembling hands flew to cover your display as your lip quivered dramatically. 

“Hey, don’ do that. Don’t hide from me, doll. Please,” Frank pleaded, rough fingers curling around your wrists, dwarfing them as he pried your grip open to reveal your face. “What happened, sweetheart?”

His soft voice was the last straw, shattering your composure. A sob rang through the room, your breath catching on itself as you lost control of your fragile psyche. “I-I’m sorry, Frank. S-sorry, sorry..” You choked out, collapsing against his sturdy chest as he tucked you flush against him.

“Why’re you sorry, babydoll? Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for.” Broad hands pawed at your hunched back, stroking up and down as he shushed you. “Nothin’ at all, sweet girl.” 

You bawled harder, his sweet acceptance of your poor mood saturating you with guilt. 

“Let it out, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Frank kissed your forehead, hands continuing their motions as he let you ride out the crying spell. Soon enough, your body-wracking sobs dwindled to hiccupping breaths. 

“Attagirl. I know you’re strugglin’, but we’re gonna get through it together, sweetheart.” Frank promised, trailing tender kisses down the bridge of your nose. “‘M right here. Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“I thought I was better,” You spat out, your words garbled with lingering tears. “I had a good week. I should be better.” 

Frank tutted quietly, interrupting your blatant self-hatred. “That ain’t how it works, doll.”

“That’s stupid.” You sniffled, burrowing into Frank’s shoulder as he snorted a laugh.

“You're tellin’ me.” He huffed sympathetically, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the responsibilities of the outside world with his massive body.

Sighing in aggravation, you chewed at your lip, your mind still racing with a list of all the tasks you needed to accomplish before Frank’s shift ended. The threat of failing to care for your shared home had woken you out of a restless sleep, the anxiety threatening to drag you into a spiral. As the pressure built in your skull, more thoughts popped up, reminding you of your rapidly approaching work shift in 24 hours, and the knowledge that Frank was comforting you again even though he surely was on a tight schedule.

 “I’m sorry,” You grimaced, wriggling out of his arms and scrubbing at your face. “You need to get up for work–”

Before you could fully escape your partner’s hold, he tightened his grip, snatching the edge of the comforter with one hand and tugging it over the pair of you. “Nah, don’t even start with that. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But, you have work.” You frowned, tears once again slipping over your waterline. 

Brushing the droplets with a thumb, Frank sent you a lopsided smile. “I got sick time.”

“Frank, you shouldn’t..you don’t have to–” You protested, voice faltering when he pressed your foreheads together. 

“Never said I had to, dollface. I want to. Would much rather spend the day with my beautiful girl than be surrounded by a group of shitheads at a construction site.” Brushing your noses together, Frank cupped your jaw, gaze boring into you as he pulled back. “That ok with you?”

Nodding once, you dove back against his chest, exhaling with slight relief as the weight of being alone in your wallowing receded from the front of your mind. “Yes please.” 

“Great. Now we’re both gonna catch some more shut eye because it is too damn early to do anything else.” He ordered, relaxing into his stack of pillows and lifting you on top of his frame. “And we’ll see how you feel after that, ok?”

“Ok.” You mumbled, fingers twisting around his shirt uneasily. 

Massive hand splaying over yours, Frank traced swirling shapes over your clammy skin. “We don’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t wanna do, darlin’. If you wanna stay in bed all day, that’s fine with me.” 

“You sure?” You asked timidly, drifting off to the soft rasp you received in return.

“Course I’m sure, dollface. Get some sleep.”

[sommerregenjuniluft]

evan and regulus frolicking like they're frotting in bed making out sloppy style about to fuck to the sounds of their boyfriends fighting outside

jfkdkfkdkf STOOPPP (this escalated, NSFW)

Regulus comes back into the living room, mug of steaming tea in hand and he rolls his eyes as soon as he, too, hears James and Barty where they're still out on the balcony arguing, cigarettes long stubbed out in the ashtray.

Evan grins, lifting the blanket as Regulus lets himself plop down and snuggles into his side.

“What’s it about this time?”

Evan snorts, nuzzling the black curls behind Regulus’ ear, “You think I know?”

Regulus shakes his head, like a disappointed old grandpa and Evan’s grin widens.

Outside, Barty makes an incredulous noise, half rising from his chair before he sits back down, trying to talk over James’ continuous arguing.

Regulus makes a soft groan in irritation, tipping his head back against Evan's shoulder. There’s a triangle of moles right under the hinge of his sharp jaw, teasing Evan to put his mouth to good use.

“It’s never nothing with the two of them,” Evan murmurs, warm breath ricocheting off Regulus’ skin and back at him.

It makes Regulus tilt his head back down, eyes narrowing and searching for something in Evan’s expression. He hums a little, sinking lower into the cushions and Evan’s embrace.

“Think we should keep ourselves busy, don’t you?” Evan says, catching Regulus’ eyes skipping down to his lips, “Who knows how long they'll be at it this time.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything but he tips his chin up and he lets Evan hook one of his legs over his lap without fuss. Evan watches the line of his throat move when he swallows, “You smell like lemons.”

“And limes,” Evan corrects with a grin. “You're off your game, whiskers. Something distracting you?”

Regulus’ slack expression slips into a glower and Evan chuckles, bumping their noses together. “I spooned some of Barty’s protein yogurt after dinner when he wasn’t looking, too busy nagging at James while they were doing the dishes.”

Regulus snakes a hand under Evan’s t-shirt, caressing the skin, “’s it taste anything good?"

The tiny devil on Evan’s shoulder does a little happy spin, “Why doesn’t the chef try for himself?”

Evan happily swallows the little pant betraying Regulus’ indifference before their lips connect.

He doesn't even have to goad him, their tongues nudging immediately as Regulus eagerly parts his mouth.

It's a wet slide of lips and Regulus’ short nails digging a little desperately into the side of Evan’s ribs when he sucks Regulus’ lower lips between his teeth.

James lets out a loud string of spanish curses outside, slamming a fist into what must be the metal of their balcony railing and Regulus sucks in a breath against Evan’s cheek and oh, is Evan having fun on this beautiful Friday night.

More kissing, hands grabbing and shucking away clothes and when Evan tugs Regulus closer by the hip he makes an entirely too sweet needy noise that goes straight to Evan’s cock.

They keep licking into each others’ mouths, Barty’s and James’ aggravated voices a quiet muffle in the background, and Regulus keeps making these little noises, squirming in place and adjusting his hold on Evan again and again, fingers clenching and unclenching and Evan can’t help himself but grin into the kiss.

It disrupts their rhythm and Regulus makes a complaining grunt that tells Evan he’d roll his eyes right now if he wasn’t currently busy eating Evan’s face off.

He’s so cute Evan wants to take a fucking bite out of him.

Or maybe finger him until he squirts all over the couch.

Evan gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek and then works his way down his neck and Regulus is restless, shifting around and then his fucking knee slides over where Evan is rock hard and he stutters out a truely embarrassing groan for it being a fucking knee.

But Regulus is an angel because he moans in response and slides his fingers into Evan’s bleached curls like it’s second nature whenever he needs something to hold onto.

“Evan,” Regulus speaks up, voice husky and eyes a little glassy when Evan lifts his head to look.

“Reg?” Evan says sweetly, cocking his head, before he goes back to the mark he was about to suck into the pale expanse of his throat.

“I’m– mgh,” Regulus swallows, out of breath, “Can you—”

Evan’s lips twitch into another smile, “Huh? Pardon, I can’t hear you, bébé.”

Regulus huffs but he makes another obscene noise when Evan trails his fingers up the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to where Evan already knows he wants him.

Another of his complaining noises—Evan lets out a snicker against the soft skin and gets a shiver in response—and then, “Want your fingers.”

“Want my fingers, love?” A gentle bite into the tendons of his neck.

Regulus arches, nodding against the cushions, “Please.”

And who is Evan to deny a polite plea as sweet as that of his lover?

Regulus’ sweats, that are actually Barty’s, get discarded. He isn’t even wearing any boxers, nom de dieu, and then Evan is slipping the tip of his middle finger through where Regulus is sinfully slick.

He throws his head back with a moan that Evan feels reverberating down his spine and then Regulus is looking at him with big, silver eyes. Wide and needy and dark brows furrowed and, fuck, so fucking wet for him Evan simply slips in two fingers at once.

And maybe he shouldn’t have. Honestly, should have taken it easy—Usually he’s the last out of the four of them to lose his patience but with Regulus looking at him like that?

Evan presses their lips together, heated and rough, and Regulus welcomes him happily. Makes a high-pitched noise when Evan curls his fingers before starting a slow pace of pumping in and out, thumb drawing slow, teasing circles around his cock.

Suddenly there’s a sharp noise from outside, one of their garden chairs scraping against the tiles of the balcony and then the door flings open.

“—the fuck do you think you’re goin’?”

“If I’m gonna have to listen to your fucking bullshit only one more second I’ll start to get violent, B. Reg is still pissed we didn’t get the blood stains out of the—”

“Fuckin’ pussy. I told you to– oompf,” the sound of someone walking into another body, “James?”

“Shut up.”

“You- fuck you. I’ll—”

“B, look.”

“—fucking destroy you, P- oh.”

Evan peeks over the back of the sofa to see James and Barty standing dumbly in the middle of their living room, expressions slack and balcony door wide open behind them. He crooks his fingers again and Regulus whines brokenly, throwing his head back, mouth parting in a perfect little o and Evan watches James eyes bulge behind his glasses and Barty’s tongue lolling out.

Can’t help himself when he grins menacingly, tilting his head and thumbing over Regulus’ cock again, making the man beside him arch.

“I- you seeing this, Crouch?”

“You fucking bet I am, Jamie.”

“Since when have they- How long were we out there?”

“Dunno but I do know I’m not missing another second of this. Budge up, Rosier. You’re going to get your dick sucked so good.”

“Fine with me as long as you do it ass up,” James murmurs lowly, “Gonna fuck that wrong opinion right out of you.”

Barty scoffs a laugh, “You wish.”

“Then dibs on Regulus riding me.”

“You—”

Evan shakes his head and chases the delectable noise slipping out of Regulus when he slips in a third finger.

[burdenandacrop]

i have a cold rn…can you write schlatt caring for his sick partner mayhaps?

˗ˏˋ ❝ it's no bother, baby. ❞ ˎˊ˗

i am loving these cutesy prompts, i hope you're better by now !! most importantly, i hope you enjoy. :>

summary : bed ridden and running a wild fever, schlatt plays nurse and insists on being a form of remedy ! despite your pleas of just leaving it be; he's determined to make you feel better somehow.

♯┆established relationship, fluff, non-gender specific reader !

the feeling of your throat closing up was getting to feel old, you knew you should've questioned yourself when you were behind an old lady who was coughing in the bank line. so much for that little experience. guess this is how you learn your lesson, sprawled out on the bed and deeming the covers as evil from how hot your body felt. even your simple blinking felt like manual labor, what kind of punishment was this? you creak your sore neck to look over to the alarm clock, it was four in the morning. how fucking pleasant. you've felt like this since last night and the phone call to your job was not going to be a fun one. you knew you had to do it, the sheer thought of forcing yourself to get through it and work anyway just made you want to scream into the pillows. it truly did feel cruel, just laying there and feeling like a dying victorian child.

through the walls, you could hear the muffled out noises of schlatt cussing out either one of the cats or how his PC was running for him. it was every five minutes, just a 'fucking bitch' or 'useless piece of shit' being seethed from him. he probably thought you were asleep, but not in a condition like this. that was another thing you weren't looking forward to, knowing that he was going to come to bed at some point and see how utterly dead you looked. then it became apparent, you were going to get him sick too. this really was a sick form of punishment, every single thing felt like a domino effect when it came to the stressors. you rub your face in an attempt to make things feel more real, the soft amber glow from the bedside lamp peeking through your fingertips. anything that wasn't intensely dim just activated your aggravation to another level, headache after headache.

slowly, you raise your body up to the best of your ability, feeling every single tremor that rang through your muscles when you attempted to move after hours of stillness. stridently groaning at the pain, what kind of cold was this? the kind that satan himself sent to punish the worst contenders? pushing away the insistent thoughts, you switch off the lamp, thankfully creating an immediate relief from the pulsing headache that was ringing all around your head. you roughly plop your body back down, feeling as your chest went up and down slowly. every breath felt grueling, the icky sound of the congestion traveling up and down with each exhale. yeah, you were for sure not making an attempt to work today. especially in conditions like this, you wouldn't be surprised if you had some sort of disease that killed off people in oregon trail. that's just how detrimental it felt to you in the moment, absolutely aching to just have some form of release from this permeant uneasiness.

you just decided to close your eyes, bask in the darkness as it was helping ease your headache slowly. even if it was incredibly moderate, you were thankful that it didn't feel as painful with the bedside lamp on. maybe you would be able to get some rest before the chore of having to call in, if only your body would want to cooperate with that idea of yours. maybe if you just took a few ibuprofen you'd feel less like shit; it's a great idea despite the fact your body has now proclaimed war on the thought of moving. so it appeared that was just a distant possibility, too hard to even attempt it. you rolled over slowly, feeling how your shirt stuck onto your skin from the amount of sweat that poured from your skin. if there was one wish, it would be to do anything in your power to avoid something like this happening to you ever again. the feeling of your shirt did feel disgusting, but you'd be damned if you tried to move out of this position considering how comfortable it was.

right as everything seemed to align in this hellscape, the loud ding rung from your phone. you knew exactly what notification it was too, just by the sound. someone was at the door and it set off the ring doorbell, a soft groan escaped your lips as you furrowed your eyebrows. that small thing just sent your body back into the same pain you were in right before. you could hear schlatt's shuffling feet, obviously making his way to the front door. a part of you was just silently pondering on what kind of mess he was getting himself into. it was nearly five in the morning for fuck's sake. you just nudged off the thought and tried your best to focus back to the serene feeling you had earlier, silently pleading for it to just return as quickly as possible. you couldn't be bothered in trying to instigate with his shenanigans. especially shenanigans that he did at an hour like this, which was quite often. it was just different considering you felt like a fucked up human experiment, just some mad scientist trying to see how much the body could deal with. in some weird manner of that.

unable to find that familiar comfort you had earlier, you just let your eyes flutter open to ponder at the glowing alarm clock. the numbers 4:51 AM practically taunting you. if you wanted to be smart about calling in, you'd have to do it in the safe median of around 6:30. even if that meant pissing off your boss with the early calls, but hey. not like you were having a necessary awesome morning either, if that was the case. the soft buzz of static rung through the room, but maybe that was an ear infection. you didn't care to even investigate it anymore, you just knew it was shitty. you could softly hear the shuffling of schlatt's feet once more, except they were growing closer to the door. you couldn't differentiate if he was coming to bed finally, or if he was just going to go back to his cave. [ his office. ] secretly hoping it was the office considering the state you were in currently, you just wanted to sleep it off and not have it be a bother to him. he had enough on his plate to begin with. he didn't need this on top of it.

with that notion, as if the universe could hear your pleas and just wanted to throw it back in your face. you heard the bedroom creak open slowly, the glow of amber from the hallway softly lighting up the room. you could also hear the crinkling of a paper bag, as well as the quiet noises of schlatt munching down on something. you really didn't want to turn around, have to come face to face with him just to show him what state you've been in all night while he was working in his office. you heard the bag gently settle on the bedside table to the right of you, knowing schlatt was probably about to crawl into bed. that was until the room fell oddly silent for a moment, oh god. "the hell? not covered up?" schlatt whispered to himself, leaning his knee onto the bed softly to grab a hold of the blanket to gently place back over you. as sweet as it seemed to a third party, to you the feeling of a warm blanket on your already warm body. jail time. immediately. he gave you soft rub on your shoulder as the cover wrapped on your body, though quickly realizing how hot to the touch you were.

"shit, that's warm." he murmured to himself as he eyed the alarm clock, then looking back to your turned away silhouette in the dim lighting. "baby, are you alright?" he leaned himself onto the bed with his knees and propped himself over your side, rocking you with your shoulder lightly; just assuming you were sleeping and had no clue. you softly whimper and creak your neck to his view, your eyes failing you by insisting to try and shut on you. he couldn't see just how drained you looked in the lack of lighting, but he could tell by your noises; you weren't exactly in pristine health. the heat of your body that nearly made him jump wasn't helping in this case either. the worry was settling in his system rather quickly, his body twisting to try and turn on the bedside lamp.

"no-no! no lights! please." you beg of him, immediately making him raise an eyebrow and retract his hand from the lamp switch. instead just settling himself on the bed next to you. he could hear how strained your voice sounded, the bubbling in each word. if he didn't know any better, it just sounded like you smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. "what's the matter?" he softly cooed as he brought his hand to your bare neck, his eyes widening as he was once again hit with the immense heat radiating off of you. "you're burning up, bad." he added, looking down to you and gently pulling his hand away. you sigh and use your weakened body strength to lay on your back instead, a few winces leaving your lips. "i caught something from the bank last week- i think." you murmur, the cover increasingly getting more annoying as it was only adding to the sweats. schlatt dropped his shoulders with a sigh and shook his head, gently pulling the cover off of your body. you silently thanked him with a relieved sigh, "don't tell me you're going to work, are you?" he questioned, hoping you'd give a logical answer.

you softly shook your head and scrunched your eyes shut at the new coming headache that was dead set on annoying you until this sickness passed over. "no- i have to call at s-" you cut your own self off by coughing, the rasp sound of it making schlatt basically jump in his spot. "i have to call at six." you finish, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand with a sigh. his eyes were transfixed on every detail of you, sure he was exhausted from being stuck on his computer for the past five hours but this was obvious more dire. "let me call em, okay?" he pleads with you, letting his hand trail on your shoulder. the coolness of his palm giving you a small feeling of satisfaction, if he could just keep it there for hours; that'd be perfect. "no, i can do it-" you stifled out before yet another abrupt cough interjected itself into the conversation. he shook his head and leaned himself a bit closer. "obviously you can't, baby." he muttered before retracting his palm from you; the serene coolness sadly leaving your skin.

he looked at you for a moment and ran a hand through his messed up hair as he pondered on what his plan of action should be. he couldn't have you wallowing in a puddle of your own sweat for the rest of the day. "i need to get you some water. that's for starters." he mumbled out as he looked around the room, trying to find anything in eyesight that would help. eventually his eyes landing on the small fan that probably hadn't been used in months, clicking his tongue at the sight and raising up from the bed to go and grab it. your eyes follow his movements, your brain still in a sicken daze, unable to focus on whatever that was happening. "what are you doing?" you mutter as you sniffle up. he grabs the fan and walks back to the bed with a soft grin, "you're sweating bad so-" shaking the fan in his hand before bending on his knee to plug it in underneath the bedside table that was on your side. you weakly nodded to his gesture, then suddenly feeling the cool breeze hit your skin. much better. drastically better.

he cracked a smile as he saw the immediate impact it had on you, seeing how your head almost instantly relaxed against the pillow. he nudged himself closer to the edge of the bed, resting on his knees before letting his arms rest on the sheets as he looked at you. "better?" he asked, your eyes fluttered open to his view. immediately nodding to his question and closing your eyes again, if only you could've done this for yourself hours ago. "yeah- you don't need to do anything else." you stammered out, rubbing your head against the pillow lightly as the relaxation was finally finding you again. he didn't take a lot of liking to that little comment though, only making him furrow his brow as he looked at you. "you're crazy." he snickered out, he propped himself back on his feet and pulled at his shirt gently. "i'm getting you some water and then we're getting you changed." he insisted, your eyes opening once again to see him and try to protest his pleas. "you don't have to do that-" you choke out, a cough once again cutting you off. "never said i had to." he sighed out, walking over to the door as he kept looking back to you, "it's not a bother, just let me baby." he muttered before walking out to the hallway to grab what he needed to properly take care of you. it definitely wasn't just going to be a water bottle, that was for certain.

he was already out of sight, too far for you to even try to protest again. it just made you feel guilty, as if you were an incapacitated child. of course, he just wanted to help; just an odd part of you was yelling at you for having to be in a state where you did have to be treated like you were incapacitated. cause you kinda were, sadly. you tried your best to just focus on the cool breeze that was hitting your face, it was what you needed in the past seven hours. instead of laying in agony sweating to death nearly. your eyes followed to the other side of the room, seeing schlatt's crinkled up bag of take-out. so that's why the ring doorbell went off. your patience was testing you considering you knew damn well you couldn't have any sort of crunchy food, what a bore. you could hear schlatt's feet shuffling in the kitchen, how he was quietly muttering to himself. part of you wondering what the hell he was doing, because a glass of water did not take this long.

you rub your face with a low grumble, every little movements felt unnecessarily laborious. with the added guilt of having your boyfriend treat you like a radioactive waste concoction, today was not fun in the slightest. your eyelids were progressively getting heavier with the cool breeze soothing you, that was until you saw the blurry silhouette of schlatt appear in the doorway. with how bad your eyesight was in the moment, the amber lighting falling behind him almost made him look like a specter. "do you need help sitting up?" he quietly asked as he came more into your view, the daze lessening as his form became less blurred. you could see in his arms he was holding a good bit of stuff, from what you could recognize; was a glass of water, a washrag, bottle of pills, and a small opened cup of yogurt. your favorite flavor to be exact. guess that's what all the shuffling noises were doing. you shake your head and prop your hands on the sheets to slowly stabilize yourself, raising your body up and moaning softly as you leaned against the headboard.

schlatt immediately put everything down on the bedside table, rushing his hands to fix the pillow from underneath you to help your back better. "easy, easy." he cooed as he kept his eyes on you, slightly bending over to adjust the fan to hit your skin better. "you don't have to be florence nightingale, yknow?" you weakly chuckle out, crossing your arms and feeling the rumbling in your stomach. he stood up straight and gave you a cocked brow as he grabbed the washrag, "who the hell is that?" he muttered as he leaned his knee onto the edge of the mattress to bring the washrag to your head. "what do you mean who is- nevermind." you stammer out, the instant gratification of the cool rag hitting your forehead. he patted it down onto your forehead, nodding when he was satisfied with the placement.

"is that actually helpful or is my knowledge from the movies just stupid?" he asked with a grin, pulling his knee back and picking up the pill bottle from the table. you close your eyes and slowly nod to his question, "it's doing something." you mumble, tilting your head to his direction before opening your eyes again to see him twisting off the cap of the bottle. "i'll call my mom and see if she knows what else i should do." he mutters as he shakes out two ibuprofen pills into his palm, putting the bottle back down and grabbing the glass of ice water with his right hand. "you really don't need to-" you groan, the weight of your head progressively getting more uncomfortable. "she'll know, just let me do this for you. okay?" he pleads with you, before leaning back down to reach your face better. "take this, alright?" he adds on, gesturing the pills in his palm to you. you sigh and take the pills and pop them into your mouth, taking the glass of water from his hand and gulping it down. his eyes widened as he realized just how much you needed water, goodness gracious.

you retracted the glass from your lips and sighed, looking up to him with your exhaustion pouring from your expression. "hopefully that'll kick in quickly." he muttered before taking the glass from your hands and placing it gently back onto the table. sighing as he looked back to you, leaning over and balancing his knee back onto the edge of the bed. "let's get this shirt off." he gruffly stated, trailing his hands to the hem of your shirt. feeling how soaked it was from your sweat. you scrunched up your face and groaned as you raised your arms above your head. he took the rag off your forehead temporarily, tossing it to the table and pulling the shirt off of your body. he threw the shirt off to the corner of the room and looked to the closet. "you just want one of your bed shirts?" he stated as he eyed what he could see from the distance. you softly nod and whimper out an 'mhm.' he promptly turned from the bed to go and grab an old shirt of yours from the closet, flipping through the numerous tees he could choose. he wanted it to be airy in a way, considering you were going to be wearing it for a bit. he beamed when he finally found a thin white tee, pulling it off the hanger and clutching it in his fist as he walked back over to you.

right as he was about to straighten out the shirt to help you put it on, a realization hit him. he dropped the shirt on the bed and grabbed the rag from the bedside table, quickly rubbing it along your chest to clean off any lingering sweat. it wasn't a bath but- it was definitely going to be better than just wallowing in hours of sweat. the cold rag felt so nice, you could feel how careful he was trying to be with you. letting the rag drag along your skin and it did help you feel cleaner in the moment. he tossed the rag to the side once more as he finished wiping you off, grabbing the tee and nodding to silently signify you to raise your arms again. "least it's a bit better." he murmured as he finished pulling the shirt over your head, adjusting the end of it to better suit your comfort. "thanks florence nightingale." you weakly snicker and pick at the lint of the shirt for a moment. "still don't know who the hell you're talking about." he laughed along with you, pleased that you were at least trying to smile and not be stuck in the sorrow of your illness.

you just roll your eyes and settle your back into the headboard, he really was clueless at times. he gently pulled himself off the edge of the bed to grab the cup of yogurt, handing it over to you with a soft grin. "this'll be easier on your throat." he stated, your eyes lingering on the cup for a moment before taking it. you hadn't ate in a bit so you definitely needed this. he watched as you took the cup and began to scarf it down, trying to hold back a snicker of how he was seeing this moment. you narrow your eyes at him as you lick the yogurt off your lips, it was easy to see he was trying his hardest to not smile. "what." you choke out, only making it harder for him to not laugh at the sight. he crossed his arms and shrugged, "it's like watching my grandma." he admits, snickering and immediately regretting his wording. you kick your foot at him causing him to lose a bit of his balance as he continued to chuckle.

"i'm sorry- i'm sorry." he snickered out as he backed away from the edge of the bed. you just shook your head and continued to finish off your yogurt, it was helping with your throat so. guess he was a tad bit smart for that idea. "my mom should be up." he muttered as he pulled his phone from his pocket, the glow of the screen roaming on his focused face as he searched for his mom's contact. pressing the call button and nodding to you before walking over to the corner of the room to pace around as he waited for her to answer. your eyes followed him as you held the spoon in your mouth, wondering if his mother was going to be livid to be getting a call so early. "mornin' mama- yeah it's just a little somethin." he spoke with the phone to his ear, you could barely hear what she was saying on the other line. "[y/n] is sick, just wanted to know what you do for dad when he's down." he twirled himself around as he heard his mom labeling off everything, looking over to you with a smile. "uh huh, honey and mint. is that what you're saying?" he questioned into the phone, nodding to every little thing his mom was saying. "alright- yup. thank you. mhm. love you mom- yes i'll tell [y/n]. uh huh. bye-bye. i will." he stammered out, you cracked a smile as you saw him. it was always hilarious to see him attempt to get off the phone when his mom insisted on saying everything at the end of the phone call. every single time.

he sighed as he pulled the phone away from his ear, shaking his head as he pushed it back into his pocket. "she said she hopes you feel better and she'll bring some soup later on today." he snickers out, walking back over to his side of the bed before sitting on the edge as he faced you. "she does not need to make me soup-" you protest but schlatt just shakes his head and clicks his tongue, "don't deny my sweet mom's kindness. you're getting soup." he sighed out as he leaned against the headboard, trailing his hand to yours. "this is just a lot for me being sick." you groan out, your hand weakly gripping into his. "well, i love you. so this is prompted." he sighed out and leaned his body a bit closer to yours; not really caring if he'd get sick. "you're gonna give me a cavity, i swear to god." you snicker out and shake your head. he let his thumb run along the back of your hand, eyeing how it trembled gently. "good thing you have dental insurance then." he replied with a smile, looking back to your eyes.

"also health insurance. after the ibuprofen kicks in, we're getting you into urgent care." he sighed out once more, pulling his hand away and bringing it up to your hot to the touch cheek. "can't have your job all upset." he added on, rubbing his thumb along your edges. you groan at the idea of sitting in a waiting room for this mess, "i know- i know. just gotta make sure it's nothing serious." he muttered with a pursed lip. "just don't make me do that alone." you plead with him, your eyes fluttering from the soft touch of his hand. "i'd never." he smiled and leaned over to kiss your forehead. "so til then, i'm fuckin- 'florence bird' or something." he snickered out. you roll your eyes and shook your head at his nonsense, "it's florence nightingale. she invented modern nursing dipshit." you groan out with a giggle. "yeah yeah, whatever. history talks for later." he cooed out as he stretched his arms. "just get better so i can kiss you again, alright?" he stated with a pouted expression.

"seems like you have your priorities straight." you mumble, smiling weakly at him. "my priorities are straight if it's involving you." he replied with a sigh, kissing your forehead one more time. sure, being sick was hell; but you practically had a walking teddy bear as a caretaker. so it couldn't be all that bad. minus the urgent care. that would just have to be something to worry about later.

author's note : i loved writing this sm, so thank you so much for submitting it !! i am strapping my boots and gonna knock out some more submission after this. til then, lauve youuu !!!

[da-shrimping-station]

Feast

Beelzebub x Reader

minors DNI or im busting your kneecaps 💚

suggestive content | bondage | a bit of food play | inspired by that Beel art from the Komiket interactive display | honestly idk what else to add

bare minimum editing/proofreading | english is not my first language

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You felt like the luckiest bastard in Hell right now.

There was an entire buffet laid out in the room. Plates upon plates of mouth watering dishes that would make anyone stuff themselves full. Drinks of every kind in pretty bottles and glasses. Fine cutlery and dining ware laid out on white sheets, waiting for you to sit down and glut yourself until you burst. Despite the smells wafting into your nose and the generous portions catching your eye, you head straight to the main course.

It was a sight that made you drool the second you saw it. It wasn't just the bare torso or the ribbons or the bottle of expensive champagne tucked into his pants. It was the fact that the King of Gluttony was propped up on a pedestal, eyes blazing and teeth gnawing at the bit and squirming to be let free. Suddenly, the buffet might as well be bland gruel in comparison.

Bright green eyes zeroed in on you as you stepped closer. He struggled even more, muffled noises growing more insistent, but the ribbons held.

Your hand reached out to cup his cheek. You squished it a little then scratched at the strips of cloth that served as his gag.

"You look very delectable, your Highness."

"Mmhff-!"

He sounded mad. Or maybe excited. Either way, it didn't stop you from feeling him up.

You pinched and groped, tan skin soft and muscles firm. One hand scratched red lines into his side while the other thumbed at his pierced nipple. The bright pink strips of cloth was a nice contrast to his rich oche skin. Your nails dug deeper, your grip turned bruising.

Groaning, Beelzebub writhed, tugging at the restraints even more. His flushed cheeks gave away how he really felt. More muffled noises came from his throat and you think he was telling you something. You had stepped back to admire your work with a pleased smile.

You've only had your hands on him and he already looked winded. Your eyes landed on the bottle at his crotch.

You deliberately ignored the bulge in his pants as you gently pried the liquor from his waistband. Your hunch was right. It was a bottle of champagne from Tartaros. The foil on the label shone nicely under the lights.

Beelzebub glared at you as you popped the cork off. The flush on his face was dying down now that you've stopped your ministrations but his erection persisted still. You took a whiff of the drink. It smelled sweet and citrusy. You know this bottle costs more than your own soul given its origin and you wanted to enjoy it to the fullest.

Your eyes shifted from the bottle to the bound King beside you. An idea pops up and you smirk. 

The king of gluttony watches you like a hawk as you step into his space again. 

Without hesitation, you poured champagne on his lips. You watched, mesmerized as the golden liquid dribbled from his chin and down his neck. Smaller rivulets trailed down his pecs and abs, eventually soaking the waistband of his underwear. You had to stop yourself before wasting the entire bottle.

The pink ribbons over his mouth were soaked and you think he's trying to get a taste with how his throat bobbed. He glared at you. You can't pinpoint why he's upset so you laughed it off.

Your hands grabbed him by the jaw, tilting his head and kissing him. It was awkward with the gag and the angle but the taste of the champagne and the feel of his lips on yours egged you on. He groaned, trying to better reciprocate the act.

Breaking the kiss, you poured champagne over him again, this time onto his torso. 

Beelzebub growled. The sound sent shivers down your spine and you licked and bit at his collarbone to appease him. He growled again, less aggravated this time. You took it as a sign.

You continued to appease him with your mouth and tongue, cleaning up the trail of liquor on his torso. From his chest, down towards his stomach. You even went so far as to kneel to nip at the V of his hips, toying with the pink bow right next to his bulging arousal.

You made sure to leave marks as you went, adding to the ones you made earlier. You left hickeys and bruises over his tattoos and bite marks over the bare patches of skin. All the while he bucked and groaned, hips jerking whenever you touched a sensitive spot.

During all of this, the delicate pink ribbons did their job of keeping him in place. A part of you was concerned that the binds would snap. Whatever magic they were imbued with was pretty damn strong.

His highness was looking down at you, eyes glowing with lust and frustration. You shuddered, enjoying the way he looked at you while you were on your knees.

You could suck him off. His cock was right there in front of you, just about ready to burst from the looks of it. The tempting thought made you lick your lips. With him tied up, you had free reign to do as you please without so much as a peep from him.

He must've sensed your lewd intention, swaying his hips towards you as some sort of invitation. An urgent moan rumbled from his throat.

You bit your lip, weighing your options for a moment.

"Thank you for the treat, your highness," you said with a smirk. Then you got up and walked away, half empty champagne bottle in hand.

Incensed noises followed after your footsteps as you left. You knew for a fact that you can't handle the king of Abyssos on your own. He was a force to be reckoned with, whether he's fighting or fucking. And you were someone simple who lived by the rule of not biting off more than you can chew.

The bottle of liquor was more than enough of a prize. There was still enough for a glass or two to indulge in. 

You were close to the exit, oozing with satisfaction as you walked past the buffet tables. The door was just a few meters away when–

Snap!

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A/N 🦐

eeyyyyy dont come after me i wrote this all in one sitting cuz that one Beel card wont get out of my head

i was gonna have the reader give him head but my skills aren't up to par so he gets blueballed instead lmaoooo i bet he would've wanted the reader to be a glutton and choke on his cock but where's the fun in that amirite

him bending the reader over one of the tables while he rails them and finishes the rest of the champagne is a nice image imo

thanks for reading!

[scoutsbabygirl]

Just gonna drop this in <3

Scout x shy!reader.

No matter how much they try, they can't bring themself to confess. With Scout taking full advantage of this trait.

hi friend! ofc <3 enjoy this little blurb!

it had been many months since you confided within spy. you pleaded for guidance as he stared at you blankly, drawing his cigarette from out of his mouth. a puff of smoke left his mouth before he responded dryly.

"perhaps you try your chances." he concluded before opening the door to his smoking room while gesturing for you to leave with an open palm. you knew it was best to leave now than to aggravate him.

there had been three or four conversations just like this with a similar ending all theming with "try your chances, take the risk, what is the worst that can happen?" you repeated to yourself walking out of the once ambient room into the bright tuefort hall. the worst that could happen is he says no and you both get uncomfortable in each others presence and never speak to each other again. you briefly thought about dying on the sandy new mexican dirt then seeing him running and jumping over your bleeding out corpse instead of finding a medpac for you.

today was different, you laid on top of your bed, holding a book to your chest. you wanted to open the pages and get lost in the world of words, yet, it would be hard to stay focused and absorb the text written on the bright white pages. then it hit you, a memory of him laughing, swiping dells hardhat from his bald head and seeing jeremy jump back and remark about the engineer's bald head. his smile was so large, how his freckles complimented his face, how his nose crunched up when he laughed hard. even though his laughter was boisterous and echoed throughout the southern desert. you felt warm in your soul. you wanted to tell him how you felt but couldn't muster up the courage to even open your mouth.

a tear ran down your cheek. then another. then another from the other eye. you sat up, still clutching the book facing the pillows laid neatly on your bed. the tears came down until you began to audibly sob, attempting to mask the noises but shoving the book in front of your face.

how embarrassing would it be is soldier were to hear these pathetic noises from your room? he was growing on you- even after all the yelling.

you would be humiliated if tavish heard your weeping. would you still remain his drinking buddy on monday nights into tuesday mornings? then promise everyone that was the last time until it continued just a few days later that week.

a little knock interrupted you and brought you back to reality. your eyes shot wide open. the door creaked open little by little, somewhat cursing yourself for not locking it. at the time, in your head it didn't enter your mind to lock the door behind you. you could feel someone behind you. you didn't know who. little pitter-patters against your rug that you bought before moving hit and the noises of rubber rubbing against each other hit your ears.

and with a little muffled giggle you already knew who it was. a warm hand was placed on your back, which you melted right into the much needed warmth. behind you, you felt a dip in the mattress and crayons fell out of a yellow box, spreading all over the neat blanket.

"sure, we can color." you wiped your face once again, trying your hardest to conceal your emotions.

a familiar gas mask was looking at you as they got themselves comfortable on your bed while holding out a colouring book. it was your favourite- one of candies and cupcakes. you turned around to face pyro, thanking them for the colouring session as it got your mind off things. you had taken it upon yourself to learn sign language to communicate with pyro, which excited the firebug immensely. they signed something back but you couldn't piece it together entirely.

"me? you? scout?" you asked aloud in an attempt to piece your thoughts together, not entirely understanding what they were trying to convey to you. you watched as pyro flipped through the pages of their colouring book, scribbling something down on the last sheet of paper which was blank.

"scout said to get you." was written in dark purple writing which was surprisingly eligible and neat.

"why?" you questioned. "where is he?" you continued, picking up one of the dull sage green crayons. in a quick swift motion pyro raised their hand and pointed to your wide open door making a "mhpf!" noise through the thick material covering their entire face.

"is he outside?" outside the door?" yet you didn't receive a response from the firebug. you took that as a sign. could jeremy possibly be outside the door.

pyro scribbled something with a sky blue crayon.

"do you like him?" they wrote. this made you more suspicious. you made a comment about how jeremy could be under that suit it was so obvious. earning a muffled laugh from pyro. you covered your hand over your mouth whispering if he was outside the door simultaneously attempting to sign your inquiry. pyro nodded.

"yes but i don't have the courage to-"

"see! i told you i was right!" you heard that vivacious voice from right outside your room. you jumped a bit by the sudden noise with your cheeks turning into a light pink blush scattered across your face.

the room and hallway suddenly got silent. you would be able to hear a paperclip drop across the base it was that quiet.

"why can't you stay silent for one fuckin' second, you fuckin' drongo." you recognized mick's heavy and low drawl.

"sorry. i was excited." a few moments later jeremy spoke in a low monotone voice.

you looked back at the opened door to where the voices were emitting from then back to pyro, whom was still busy drawing in their book like nothing seemingly occurred. you felt confused yet butterflies flew around in your gut as this little interaction validated your feelings towards scout and those feelings were reciprocated vice versa.

suddenly, the door burst open and there appeared scout. he quickly walked behind pyro and found himself next to them on your bed. in another context you would have found this moment exciting yet it seemed as if the entire base was waiting right outside your dark oak wooden door.

"well, (y/n), i think you're really sweet, you make me laugh, uhh-" he looked up at the ceiling, trailing off his words. "i think your personality is great." he turned to the door which your eyes trailed there in confusion. spy was in the doorway with an eyebrow raised rolling his hand over and over as he was trying to signal to the younger boy to continue on with his waterfall of compliments.

distracting you, pyro made a gesture as they were yawning which earned a snicker from you.

"i think you're beautiful, smart, witty, clever, there are so many adjectives i could use to describe you. i admire you. you're the first girl (or boy or person) that i've felt attracted to without thinking about having sex with you in a broom closet."

you heard and annoyed sign from spy and a chorus of "what the hell's" and "jesus, scout" and something incoherent from soldier.

"and if im being honest, (y/n)-" he stopped briefly, pondering his words in his head again. "i like you a lot- i might go as far as saying love but i don't want you to think i'm crazy or love bombing you or something."

you smiled at him, feeling the butterflies do backflips in your stomach as your cheeks must've looked like summer roses.

"if you're insinuating for us to go on a date then yes, i would love to."

which was met by a high five between scout and pyro and a chorus of cheering from the men flowing into the doorway.

[jeongintwenty3]

actions speak louder than words

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mention of tears

summary: he woke up to his one and only crying. knowing he isn’t good with words, he decided to let her know he’s there for her through his loving gestures.

author’s note: hello!! feeling a bit under the weather but it’s nothing new. i am a sucker for minho being all soft for his other half, in case you haven’t noticed. pardon for my poor grammar and mispellings if present, other than that, happy reading! <3

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waking up to the sounds of his beloved sniffling was far from ideal. it was 3.16 in the morning, he finally got some shut eye after a good two and a half hours of trying.

but God had other plans.

trying to identify where the sounds were coming from, minho patted the duvet beside him. you weren’t beside him. rubbing his eyes so he’d be able to wake up just a little bit more to find you, he identified your figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

you thought you aced your techniques of weeping silently, muffling the noises with the sleeves of your sweater or leaving the room to take a breather. but tonight, it didn’t work.

hearing the shuffles of your boyfriend, you immediately wiped whatever tears were left and tried to regulate your breathing.

minho sat beside you, opening his arms as a silent invitation to his comforting hugs. and so you did, sat upon his lap with both arms around his neck, the tears were threatening to fall again.

“you don’t need to pretend babe, it’s okay. it’s just me,” he said gently, not wanting to aggravate anything else.

with those words said, the dam broke. you were shaking, shedding tears in his hold and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

the man with one arm stroking your hair and the other patting your back gave you nothing less than tranquility.

noticing your tears aren’t stopping anytime soon, he whispered,

“let it all out, hmm? take your time,” the man said, fully awake by now. he wants nothing but for his one and only to feel better. yes, he doesn’t really like and sort of skinship, but for you? he’d do anything.

after a good twenty minutes of your breakdown, you managed to slip out, “’m sorry, i know you needed to rest,”

backing away from the one he loves most, he looked right into your eyes; you could swear, it’s the most tender look he’s ever given you.

“don’t be sorry. you need me more than i need sleep, you are my responsibility. it’s the way it’s supposed to be, darling. i’m more than content to be the only one able to comfort you right now,” he said, tightening his grip around you.

feeling your throat closing up, minho noticed the tears welling up once again. he resorted to place both of his hands on each side of your head, placing kisses on your forehead and closed eyelids; hoping, that he can distribute whatever strength and comfort he has to his beloved.

“breathe, baby. take it slow,” minho said, while helping you adjust your breathing that was ragged due to the constant flow of tears.

hearing you saying something along the lines of wanting to sleep or something like that, he took it as a sign to bring you into a more comfortable position.

letting go of the man that has comforted you for the last 30 minutes, he guided you so you can rest on the pillow he fluffed up just a while ago. adjusting the both of you so you can lie down properly, he continued srroking your hair, his grip on you never loosening. seeing you drift off to sleep due to the exhaustion, he smiled softly. pressing a kiss to your temple and whispering a quick i love you, he too, drifted of to dreamland.

maybe for now, your heart is on the verge of shattering; but one thing for sure, minho won’t let that happen. he isn’t good with words and it’s never a problem; his actions speaks volumes, and that is what matters the most.

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 4: Bells

Content warning: a little spooky/paranoia based, small mentions of injury

Realized I could make the jack o'lantern emoji my dividers so now I have to standardize it across all the promptobers >_< anywho, enjoy!

Word count: 912

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Quiet. It's near silent in the closet. Save for the sound of your own breathing which you're desperately trying to muffle with your hand. 

You need to stay calm, you need to focus. Panic will do you nothing in this situation.

Your arm stings from the slash you'd recieved earlier from Monty. Had you known the animatronics were going to go batshit, you probably wouldn't have come in tonight. Or ever again, really. 

There's no way to secure the door, not without making excessive noise and you can't afford that. You just have to hope, to pray to whatever god is listening that your silence and the closed door is enough to save you. With your walkie smashed and seemingly only staff bots around for security, you have no means of getting out of here soon.

You don't even know what time it is, not that it matters at this point. You're nowhere close to morning, and even then you don't know if that'd make any difference. 

Well, it would for one animatronic. 

You can't even remember how it happened. You'd come in to spend the evening with Sun to plan out arts and crafts for the next day. He'd been acting weird these past few weeks, very insistent on no naptime, and because of how upset the topic made him, you relented despite the tired kids you were dealing with.

So, you thought it would be a good idea to try and spend some one on one time together, maybe see if you couldn't get it out of him what was bothering him so bad. When you arrived, he was incredibly, off. Happy to see you yes, but wanted you out of there immediately. You had foolishly refused, wanting to get to the bottom of things like the curious cat that you are.

You'd taken his skittish, almost aggravated, tone for him not wanting to talk about the problem. You now realize it had been fear, instead. 

"Sunny, this is ridiculous!" You say, arms crossed at the sign on the big doors in front of you. Which had been put up after he pushed you out of the Daycare moments before. 

You can hear him loud and clear over the wall, "Sorry, Sunbeam! Rules are rules!"

"You made the rules! You're actively making them right now!"

No response. Just the quiet sound of bells as-you're assuming-he fidgets on the other side. You sigh.

You put your head to the wood, voice a little softer, "I just wish you would tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing going on, friend! Everything's fine, fine, fine! Really you should just go home, and not worry about aaanything at all!" His laugh is awkward, "Really. I mean it."

Deflecting. He's always deflecting. It, hurts. To say the least.

"You know you can trust me, yeah?" You ask.

More jingling. But that's not really an answer.

"I'm serious, Sun. I just want to help."

You're about to give up and call it a night when you feel the door opening, you step back in time for it to open just a tad. 

Sun's rays peek through slightly, along with one of his optics "You want to help? Help me?"

"Of course I do," You smile, "I'd do anything for you, bud."

The door opens a little further, he's still hesistant, however, "I-I, Sunshine I don't know if this is, is something you can help with-"

"I can try," You interject, putting your hand over his which still remains on the door, "I can promise you that much."

Sun's rays spin and then he nods, "Okay, I, I suppose you can come in for a few minutes-"

It's then that the power suddenly cuts inside and out of the daycare, the emergency lights very rapidly becoming your only way to see.

"What's going on-Sun?"

He jumps back from you, looking around wildly before gripping his faceplate, "No, no, no! Not good, not good!" 

You reach a hand out, wanting to comfort the poor bot, "Sun-"

He stops his moments long enough to look you in the eyes, and while his face is stuck in that giant grin, you can sense the sterness, the fear, in the singular word he utters. 

"Run."

A few reckless and terror-driven decisions later, you wound up hear. You're best guess is that your stuck here for awhile, but semi-safe for time being-

A soft sound down the hall sends your heart to your throat. In any other context, you'd associate it with joy, laughter, days of fun, and even hummed bedtime melodies. 

Bells. 

With each twinkling noise they get ever closer to your position, and you shrink more and more into yourself. 

Clink. Clink.

For some reason, some of your happiest memories start playing before your eyes. 

Clink. 

Clink.

You think of Sun, with his goofy demeanor and sweet words that always make you laugh, make you smile. Make you feel so warm.

Clink.

You think of Moon and his bedtime stories, his calming presence, his cheeky laughter that would make your thoughts just a little fuzzy.

Clink. 

Right outside the door now. One loud bell jingling as the animatronic surely debates on whether to open the door. 

Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink. One way.

Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink. The other.

You're suddenly gripped by the realization that you still have that flashlight you found earlier on you. Your shaking fingers grip for it.

The door starts to open.

You turn on the light.

And brace for the worst.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Man everybody's got such fun and cute stuff for promptober and I'm out here making this (by choice mind you) shoutout to everyone browsing the tag and getting whiplash from my posts, ur a real one for that

You can find my other promptober posts here if you so choose

Thanks for reading!

[chrissdollie]

IMAGINE U AND CHRIS BABYSITTING UR LITTLE SISTER AND U CANT GET HER TO GO TO BED AND HE PUTS HER TO SLEEP AND LAYS W HER :(

BRO WHOEBER TJIS IS, UR SENDINF GREAT LIL PROMPTS DONT STOP

bingo - c.s x reader

you sigh, putting down the book your sister specifically picked out for bed. you know she wants your boyfriend chris, but she won’t admit it. you adjust her pillow before muttering “i’ll be right back”

you leave the room and into the kitchen, where chris is grabbing a pepsi from the fridge that you always have stocked just for him. “hi cutie” you kiss his cheek. he takes a sip of his can before wrapping an arm lazily around your shoulders

“can you help put s/n to bed? she won’t fall asleep and it’s aggravating me.” you chuckle, feeling tired. he notices this, of course, how could he not? he nods immediately. you two step into her room, chris putting his pepsi down.

“hey, bingo.” he greets the girl with a nickname from the show Bluey. he’s called her that ever since he heard her adorable laugh (it also reminds him of how his heart bursts everytime he sees you, which he thinks is corny asf)

she smiles, holding up the bingo plush that was previously wrapped around her arms tight in her chest. he sits down on the bed next to her. he sees the book that you were reading before, picking it up.

your sister’s eyes brighten. she adores when he reads to her, although she likes it more when he comes up with stories on his own. before he begins reading, he turns around where you’re standing with a small smile present on your face, watching the two interact.

he lightly grind at your smile and mouths “go lay down”. he nods his head towards the door. you give him a look that says ‘you sure?’ and he puckers his lips out for a kiss. you grin, pecking him and your sister on her head before leaving the room.

you wake up on the couch, having no idea what time it is. you don’t bother to check as you get up, remembering chris was with your sister last. you rub your eyes as you slightly peek through the door. your heart melts at the sight.

you open the door wider, stepping through fully into the room. chris is laying next to s/n as she’s cuddled into his warm side. damn, you wish you had your phone to take a picture.

you’re a little frightened when s/n’s eyes widely open. you giggle, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the noise. you sit on the edge of the bed carefully, trying not to wake chris who was snoring lightly.

��what are you doing up?” you whisper ”what are you doing up?”

you shrug at her question, silently answering. you gently rub chris’ arm as you sit and take in the simple yet sweet moment. “y/n.” she whispers out to you. you look at her, waiting for her to go on.

“i like the voices he does when he reads.”

you smile. "they are pretty funny arent they?" she nods, slowly beginning to laugh, remembering the way he spoke as he read. you put your finger on your mouth. "shhh, dont wake him". she rolls her eyes. "you first."

a/n: CRAPPY ENDING IK IM SORRYYY i’ll make it better tmr bc i’m on my phone rn and i hate hate hate writing on my phone a/n2: the end is still weird but better so ya

tags: @stargirlsturniololover @latinasforchrizz @leah-loves-lilies

[infinite-hearts-333]

Credits:

Au by @onyxonline !!

Zane: @moonspiritleaf

North Heat: @north-heats-stronghold

Sunny: @novalizinpeace

Zelda: @svetikfandomfrom0902

Merrit: @fishy0bishy

Halt thou beast, bare your scales waxed with sins.

Bare your neck.

Here you’ll perish.

Ouroboros.

Ouřa Thorn’s feet barely made a sound as they walked, head hung low as they trailed slow circles around the kitchen island, into the lounge, in front of the tv, before looping back around into the kitchen.

There was a word for this in animals, they vaguely remembered.

Zoochosis. Some form of stress disorder that made them do repeated things to soothe themselves or deal with a problem that they can’t solve.

Ouřa Thorn growled, a low rumble in their throat that echoed in a quiet cackle they heard the birds make back on their planet, stopping beside the door that led them outside to the halls.

Their scales prickled up, sharp, sharp,,

Having to mind how they stood, being careful around those smaller than them, constantly being aware of their large spines and tail..

Ouřa hissed, chomping down on their spiny arm, grinding their sharp teeth into the hard plating. They huffed through their nose, quivering, inhaling and exhaling.

Too unreliable, too dangerous, they really were just a monster.

The thunder of rage from the Beast as their eyes had landed on Zelda- who was not at fault for being infected with red smoke-

Ouřa gritted harder, little drops of blood welling to the surface.

“Thorn?”

Ouřa’s eyes snapped to the movement in the hallway, their back hitting a wall with a thud as they stared.

It was just Merrit.

It was just Merrit.

Why weren’t they breathing?

The Ferret’s brows furrowed, and she slowly lifted her hands. “Thorn? You don't look to good, buddy,”

She started to move over, and faintly Ouřa could hear another door open form the hallway.

No… no, no, they couldn’t let them see them like this.

Ouřa made a muffled panicked noise, jerking away from Merrit, they had gotten close enough to touch (they were SHARP, don’t get CLOSE).

“Merrit? What’s going on?” Came Zane’s voice, half awake and dazed as he flicked on the light.

It was like a flare gun went off.

Ouřa shrieked in agony, tearing their arm from their maw to claw at their eyes- the bright blinding light stunning them as they stumbled back, feeling the edges of their consciousness being tugged at.

And like any frightened animal- Ouřa reached out.

——————————— Zane’s POV ——————————————

To be frank, Zane wasn’t sure what was worse, Ouřa Thorn screaming, or when the howl of agony was suddenly cut off, the large lizard’s voice cracking a little at the end, their body jerking, their head hitting the wall once as they stumbled back.

Merrit was perfectly still, her eyes flicking in concern, as if she was trying to figure out what was exactly happening. She winced at the thud of Thorn hitting their head, reaching out to help again.

Ouřa Thorn must have seen the movement, cause they yank their hands from their face to snarl like a cornered animal, their snout pulled back to bare all their teeth.

Their three large spines catches the light- as Zane jerked a little, just fast enough to yank Merrit back a little at the snap of the lizards teeth - wait- when did Ouřa Thorn have more then three spines?

“Thorn!” Merrit called, worry lacing her voice as fumbled with her hands, half between reaching out again and raising them as if to calm an aggravated animal.

And then something snapped.

Zane froze, feeling his breathes start to quicken as Ouřa Thorn began to change- the lizard they had come to like as a friend rapidly changing, their bones breaking and voice wailling in hoarse crying screams, their spines splitting and growing into skewers, as if the humanity was being drained from them.

Zane couldn’t help but be reminded of Asta- when he had injected himself with the red smoke and had turned into a monster.

“Ah, shit,” Merrit said, seeming familiar with this, as Thorn snarled overhead, now far too large for the room, seeming determined to back themselves into a corner, their tail lashing uncontrollably behind them. It hits the couch, sending it sliding across the room just in time for Sunny, followed closely by Zelda to come into the living room, probably awoken by the noises.

“Oh dear,” Sunny said in a rush, before dashing back down the hall, yelling for North. Zelda watched silently, her eyes wide as the Beast taking up half of their living room, growling and snapping at Merrit every time she tried to get close to calm them down.

“Thorn, Thorn, please, calm down-” Merrit pleaded faintly, as Zane continued to stare, unmoving.

He’d been right.

He knew, from the get go- the staying over, the panicked nature, the weird occurances around the lizard-

He knew something was up with them, and he’d been right.

Zane startled a little at the sensation of something clambering up his arm, jerking and nearly knocking off the large blue spider frantically clambering up his arm. He paused- he’d seen it in Thorn’s room, or occasionally nestled in Oura Thorn’s spines.

It was waving it’s little feeties toward the large beast that was Thorn, chattering frantically. Zane paused, before looking up at Ouřa Thorn, hesitating.

They looked scared.

Sure, they were big- but they were just scared.

Inhaling, Zane offered his hands to the spider, who looked up at him for a second silently before clambering into his hands. Now armed with a blue spider, Zane marched straight past Merrit, to Ouřa Thorn, the spider held out in front of him.

North Heart had finally made it to the chaos of the living room, bed ruffled and confused, before spotting Ouřa Thorn, and then Zane, flaring his wings in slight panic.

“Zane, Merrit, back up NOW,”

Ouřa Thorn had whipped their head to Zane and snarled, their maw opening to reveal a blood red maw of razor sharp teeth and large pointed spines. Their breath still smelt of the mint they had been eating before Zane had headed off to his room for the night.

He smiled faintly, willing all of the fond memories he had of his time with Ouřa Thorn, as the spider made a soft, vibrating purr.

“You're okay,” He mused slowly, shifting the spider into one hand so he could slowly start to reach out to touch Thorn’s large scaled muzzle.

Ouřa Thorn snarled a little, but it was quieter, weaker.

They were just scared, Zane reminded himself, gently rubbing his hand over the scales.

The sharp slits that were Thorn’s pupils slowly started to dilate, their breathes becoming slower, and therefore easier to hear each shaky inhale and exhale.

The spider clambered across Zane’s body so that it could reach his arm on Oura Thorn and nestle in between their eyes, purring with all their might that their abdomen was practically rattling.

Thorn’s eyes flickered over Zane, before their eyes close with a defeated, exhausted huff, pressing their head into the wolf’s body, nearly knocking them over.

The living room was dead silent, before a low, trembled whimper emitted from the larger lizard, their spines quivering as their defences slumped.

Zane looked over to North Heat, who was staring in bewilderment, relief, and pride. “I guess this is their power?” He murmured softly, stroking down the side of the beast’s face, getting a gentle rumble.

“Yeah, how did you get them so calm?” North mused, taking a step closer. Ouřa Thorn’s eyes opened, and they made a low, defensive thunderous growl, one large claw hoarding Zane closer.

Zane squeaked a little, mindfully watching the sharp claws. North took two steps back, hands in the air.

“Unsure, Cap. Um. I think I’m gonna be here a while, could someone get my pillow?”

Sunny snorted, nodding a little. “Sure. I think for safety were all gonna stay out here to make sure spikey here stays calm.” He chimed, nodding at the large lizard, who had settled back down, tail coiling defensively around them.

“Well, I'm gonna get some popcorn then. Doubt anyone will be sleeping for a while.” Zelda huffed, already moving to the kitchen, pulling Merrit with her.

Zane smiled a little, his tail flicking as he got comfy, looking up at his now larger than usual friend.

I wont let you be scared, Thorn. Not anymore.

[sukunastoy]

Little Tease

Megumi x fem!reader NSFW

Straight to the point…you’ve been a little tease all day and Megumi is going to fuck it out of you.

CW: Rough sex, brief choking, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, creampie.

WC: <;1k

It didn't take long for the dark haired male to pull you into his dorm room and shut the door behind, rather promptly. Though you still behaved like a little tease, prancing away from him as he turned to you, he had already seen enough, and you weren't going to get away with it for much longer. 

"What are you gonna do to me, Fushi'?" your giggles echoed through his room and a large hand quickly clasped over it to muffle the sound. 

Megumi scowled at your sounds and grumbled slightly. "I told you...NO noise."

A pout pulled your face down as you let your doll eyes look up at him, watching the clothing come off of him quickly as he disposed of it to the floor. "But I like bein' loud..." 

"Not with Itadori in the next room." 

His hands were already pulling your shirt off above your head, and small yelps of excitement fell from your lips, knowing your lacy underwear was surely soaked by his actions. Megumi was straight to the point when it came to fucking you, and at first, you didn't like it, but his impatient greediness of needing to be inside you became such a turn-on. 

Being roughly pushed down to your back, your hands frantically began rolling down your leggings. He snatched the waistband from your grip, pulling them down forcefully as you playfully kicked your legs in retaliation. Your bratty actions always made him more aggressive when he finally got in between your legs, and it was so exciting, watching his face contort between a mix of aggravation and pleasure. 

With no prep, already knowing your needy cunt was nice and slicked up, fully prepared to take him, he pulled you to the edge of the bed, letting the fat of your ass hang off a little. Leaving one hand firm around your thigh, he used the other to grab onto the base of his cock, shoving himself into your quivering cunt with such haste you already let out a cry of ecstasy, feeling his thick meat fill you to the hilt. 

A hand quickly came over your mouth to silence you. However, his immediate bruising pace created more erotic noises as his hips slammed into you repeatedly, the loud smacking of excited bodies filling the otherwise silent room.

His thrusts were deep and forceful, making sure to bury his fat cock as far as he could each time he dove back into your cunt, already battering into that rough patch of sensitivity within your gummy walls. Your quiet cries and moans were muffled through his hand until he finally moved a hand to the underside of your thigh, shoving your leg back and out to the side so he could intrude deeper, enjoying the way your face scrunched slightly each time the head of his cock met your cervix with such force. The masochistic slut within you couldn't help but squirt all over his cock from the delicious pain, knowing you were making a mess all over the edge of his bed and floor. Still, clearly, he didn't care as he fucked himself harder into you, getting your creamy pussy to leave the aroused residue at the base of his cock in a sticky white ring. 

"S'messy..." he grunted breathlessly, the squelching of your pleasure dancing into his ears. His palm settled at the base of your throat, his thumb barely squeezing into your skin to keep you quiet, but your increasing whimpering and moans gave him such satisfaction at the moment he couldn't bear to silence you. 

Gripping onto your right bouncing breast, his fingers and palm squished the fatty mound, holding it firmly as he felt your walls start to clench onto him. Knowing you were about to spill out onto him, he threw another strong hand over your mouth, anticipating your moans to get louder as he began to roughly fuck himself into your sopping hot mess, propping himself up with his other arm next to your head as he savagely chased his high. 

"Y-yes! Fuck me...Fuck me..!" your nearly sobbing voice pleads, with your gummy walls squeezing him tightly and your eyes rolling back as an intense deep orgasm flooded your body. His hand lowered to your jaw and upper neck, listening to your cracked moans and wails as you did your best to not scream out, even as much as you wanted to. 

"F-Fuck...s'good..! F...Fushi...!”

Growling in lust at your release, he couldn't stand to hold himself any longer. His rhythmic pace immediately faltered, his cum spilling into you recklessly and without control, as your creamy walls continued to milk his cock through both of your highs.

Both panting heavily, Megumi closed the gap between you, kissing your cheek softly as you both came down, bodies sweaty and tired. "Stop being a tease all day..." he grumbled, sighing as his body relaxed.

"But its so much more fun." you giggled back to him, wrapping your legs around his hips and nuzzling your face into his neck, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

Thanks for reading!! A re-upload of an old/lost post. <;33

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[zepp-l1n]

Pretty

Pairing: George Karim x Fem!reader (with sight), some subtle locklyle

summary: The 4 times (Y/N) called George pretty, and the one time he said she was. fic type - fluff, mutual pinning warning - reader calls George "pretty boy" word count - 3,053 a/n: I'm so upset Lockwood & CO isn't getting a second season :(

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#1. Morning Tea

The muffled noise of a tea kettle woke (Y/N) up from her sleep. The teenager drowsily looked around, taking in their surroundings. From her spot on the bed, (Y/N) noticed the low light coming through the window and into her room.

Lucy, who was sleeping across the room, hadn't seemed to be disturbed by the noise, and continued her peaceful rest. (Y/N) pushed herself up and leaned against her headboard. The tea kettle still hadn't stopped, and (Y/N) was quickly getting annoyed. "Ugh..." she sighed as she moved out from under their dark bedsheets. (Y/N) silently moved across the room, down the stairs, and outside of the attic.

As (Y/N) made her way to the kitchen the high pitched ringing stopped. This didn't make (Y/N) any less aggravated at being woken up early. When she had reached the kitchen she quietly opened the door, and stumbled inside.

George was sat at the kitchen table, cup of tea in hand. He glanced up, taking in (Y/N)'s sleepy form before asking, "What are you doing up?"

"The tea kettle woke me." she responded. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at George's morning attire. He was in a long NASA t-shirt, and had his glasses low on his nose. As usual he wasn't wearing any trousers, which (Y/N) and the other Lockwood & Co members had strangely gotten used to. The thing that caught (Y/N)'s attention the most was George's hair; his curls looked fluffy and were all over the place, an unusual sight for such a put together boy. Although it was a new sight, it wasn't a unappreciated one.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't think the sound would reach all the way up there." he softly muttered.

'It's fine - as long as you left me some water for my own tea." (Y/N) joked.

George smiled up at them. "It's by the stove. I also washed your mug, so it should be at the front of the drying rack." He then turned back to his tea, taking a long sip.

"You, George Karim, are a delight." (Y/N) made their way over to the drying rack, retrieved her mug, and placed it next to the half-full kettle. She then moved over to the pantry and fridge, grabbing her respective honey, sugar, and milk. She made her tea the same way she always did: place an English Breakfast tea bag in the cup, pour a bit of honey and a spoonful of sugar on top of the tea bag, and pour in the water. Once the tea bag had steeped long enough for their choosing, (Y/N) then added a bit more honey, and then poured in a splash of milk.

After making her tea, (Y/N) took the seat next to George. "So, what are you doing up this early?" she asked.

"Couldn't sleep. The case Lockwood asked me to look into, somethings off about it. I don't know what, but……" George had a tendency to trail off when he was speaking. Sometimes he thought he was still relaying information to his friends, but was simply sitting in silence.

(Y/N) took a long sip of her tea. "Did- uh, did you get any sleep at all?" she asked after swallowing. George didn't answer. "George…." she started.

"I know, I know." he responded sharply.

(Y/N) took one hand off of her cup, and placed it over George's. The concerned look on her face caused George to avert his gaze back to his tea. As he did (Y/N) got a clear sight of the early morning light gliding over his face. It was a nice scene. He looked....pretty.

"Look, I'm not gonna berate you with comments about your heath like a mother, but you do need sleep, Georgie." she sighed. "I don't wanna see my pretty boy get sick because he wont take his own health seriously."

George's head shot up, eyes wide. "Pretty boy?"

"Yeah, pretty boy." (Y/N) smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go get dressed, and wake up the others." She stood up, mug in hand, and walked back towards the kitchen door, leaving George flushed and slack-jawed.

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#2. During A Mission

The members of Lockwood & Co were split up in groups of twos, and were rushing through a house. George and (Y/N) were attempting to find the source of the Type Two the team was trying to get rid of, while Lucy and Lockwood held it off.

"Georgie, what are we looking for, exactly?" (Y/N) whispered to the curly haired boy across the room.

"Something wedding related. Possibly a veil, garter belt, or piece of......wedding jewelry?" George whispered back.

The duo went quiet for a moment, continuing to search the room for anything that may be keeping the ghost of Christine, a young bride who was slaughtered in her home close to 14 years ago.

A loud bang rang through the floor tiles, followed by the angry and worried yells of Lockwood and Lucy. "Shit! For gods sake, hurry up guys!" Lucy's voice echoed from downstairs. George and (Y/N) glanced up at each other, both exchanging a worried look.

"We're trying Luce!" (Y/N) yelled back. "Shit. Okay. I'll take the left side of the room, you take the right." George frantically nodded and the two got to work.

They hurriedly made their ways around their respective portions of the room. The noises from downstairs got progressively louder, and then unexpectedly stopped. "(Y/N)? Are you not hearing, what I'm not hearing?" George asked.

(Y/N) nodded. "Oh god, you don't think...." she couldn't finish her sentence.

"No. No, I'm sure they're fine..." he mumbled.

(Y/N) stood up, her black boots scuffing against the floor as she did, and cautiously moved towards the door. "Lucy? Lockwood?" she yelled into the hallway. When she was a step away from the door, it unexpectedly slammed shut. "Holy shit!"

George jumped up, a quickly made his way over to her. His hands grasped onto the doorknob, frantically trying to pry the door open. "Guys! Lucy! Lockwood!" he yelled out. No response was heard.

As he focused on the door, (Y/N) looked around in a panic. At the other end of the room a figure started to appear. The young bride. "George...." (Y/N) patted his hand with her shoulder, still facing the ghost. He didn't answer her, and continued trying to open the door. (Y/N) stepped away from him, and gently pulled out her rapier. "George!" she yelped once again.

"What?" he turned around, expecting her to be behind him. Instead she was guarding him from the Type Two in the room. "Oh shit."

He moved to take out his rapier, but (Y/N) stopped him. "Wait. Go find the source. I'll hold her off." George nodded. He ran out from behind her, and made his way through the room and continued his attempt to find the source.

(Y/N) moved as he did, making sure to not leave open the space between him and the ghost. She did the regular rapier moves every agent was taught, and kept the ghost at bay. "Georgie, hurry it up." she exclaimed as the ghost moved closer to her.

"I'm trying!" Items flew behind him as he rummaged through the dust covered room.

Realizing that the rapier wasn't helping as much as she would like it to, (Y/N) reached into her jacket, and pulled out a salt bomb. She swiftly tossed it at the ghost, causing it to disappear as the salt bomb hit it.

"A wedding ring!" George gasped out. "That's what was missing in the police report, so it must be around here. That has to be the source."

"Good job, George. Now find it!" (Y/N) yelled back. She was so caught up in talking to him, that she didn't notice the ghost reappear behind her. Her body was pushed forward, into the nearest wall.

The crash pulled George's attention towards her. "(Y/N)!"

"Get the source!" she grunted out. "I'm fine!"

She leaned against the wall, and pulled out another salt bomb. As she threw it, she tried to ignore the ache in her left shoulder and head.

George had started going through the jewelry boxes on top of a nearby table, in an attempt to find the wedding ring. (Y/N)'s grunts and yelps caused George to speed up his search. At the back of his third jewelry box, he finally found a smaller box that was wrapped in a silk handkerchief. "I think I found it!"

"Then secure the fucking thing!" (Y/N) cried out. At this point, the ghost had hurt her a few more times. The ache in her shoulder was far more prominent, she had a cut leading from her temple to her cheekbone which was spirting blood rapidly, and her right knee had gave out around 5 times.

George unwrapped the box and opened it. Just as he had suspected, the wedding ring was inside. He gripped it with shaky fingers and ran back towards the door, where their kit was safely stored. He reached inside, found the silver chains, and wrapped the ring in them.

A relived gasp left (Y/N) as the ghost in front of her disappeared. George made his way over to her, and grabbed onto her outreached arms. "Are you okay?" George wiped some the blood on her face off using the edge of his sleeve.

"I'm fine. A bit sore, but that'll go away soon." she grinned. "Good job with the source, pretty boy." It was the first time she had referred to him with the nickname since the morning they had been up before Lucy and Lockwood. His face flushed just the same as it had then.

Lucy and Lockwood burst through the door, both visibly concerned for their friends. "What the bloody hell happened? Are you all okay?" Lucy yelled.

"We did your job." (Y/N) joked, using her good arm to lightly smack George, only to receive an embarrassed smirk back.

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#3. At The Archives

When taking a trip to the archives, George usually went by himself. It was almost like his form of a safe space. He liked the calm he found in studying and researching silently by himself. Today, however, (Y/N) had come with him.

The two sat across from each other at George's regular table. Both had a hearty stack of newspapers and journals to go through during the next few hours - each important to the upcoming job Lockwood had gotten them.

George had read almost half of his stack in the time that (Y/N) had gotten through the first third. This was due to a mixture of George's unnatural reading speed, and the fact that (Y/N) kept getting distracted by George. After every paragraph of information, (Y/N)'s gaze drifted up to the boy in front of her. He was in his element, and able to be his true self. The look on his face was once of content and happiness - something that (Y/N) would pay however much needed to see at all times. The only other time that (Y/N) got to see him this in his element was in the evenings when he would read by himself, unaware of her eyes on him.

"Why are you looking at me" George asked without removing his eyes from the newspaper in his hands.

"Is it a crime for me to take a break to look at the prettiest thing in the room?" she giggled.

George's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but look away from the information he was reading. "You.....I...." his gaze returned to the page.

(Y/N) grinned at his embarrassment. She loved being able to say one word and make his entire demeanor change. It was cute. He was cute. Before she got back into her paper, (Y/N) mumbled one last thing to the flustered boy. "It's true though. You are the prettiest thing in here."

As she continued reading she missed the small smile that crept onto George's face from behind his newspaper.

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#4. Cleaning 35 Portland Row

George woke up early on Sundays to clean. He had done this since he had moved into 35 Portland Row.

George had put on his gloves and apron, and was cleaning the floor under the table when (Y/N) entered the kitchen. She was already dressed, and ready for the day she had planned with Lucy. The two were going to get lunch at a nearby diner, and have a "girls day".

"Morning Georgie." she spoke as she passed the boy. He was on his knees for a better angle.

One arm was scrubbing the tiles, while the other waved at his housemate. "Morning."

(Y/N) opened up the bread box and got out the wheat bread. George assumed she was going to make herself some toast to hold herself off till lunch.

The friends sat in a calm silence while cleaning and waiting on the toaster to finish. "Are you just gonna clean today, or are you planning to do anything fun?" (Y/N) asked.

"Just cleaning, I guess." responded his tired voice.

A ding sounded from the toaster, and (Y/N)'s snack popped out. George heard the noise of a cabinet opening and closing, then the clanking of a plate hitting the thinking cloth. "Have fun with that. When you feel like having a break, there's a slice of toast and some jam out for you to snack on." she spoke from beside him.

George jolted slightly at her closeness as he hadn't realized she had moved down to him. "Thank you." he stuttered out.

"No problem." she grinned. "By the way, you should wear the whole cleaning get-up more often. Really brings out your inner 'pretty, housewife'." George once again jolted at her words. This time far higher than the last, resulting in his head lightly hit the edge of the table. "Oh shit, pretty boy, are you okay?" (Y/N)'s hands made their way to his head, caressing the space he had hit.

"I'm good!" George's voice came out dazed due to their closeness.

"You sure?" she concerningly continued to ask.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." His eyes didn't leave hers. Her hands didn't leave his face. They sat there for a minute, basking in their new proximity.

(Y/N) seemed to come back to her senses, and removed her hands. "If you say so." She stood back up, and patted the table. "Remember, you've, uh, you've got toast." Pink dusted her cheeks. "Lucy's probably waiting for me, so I should go."

(Y/N) smiled at the boy, grabbed her slice of toast from the plate, and left him, once again, in a stunned state in the kitchen.

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#5. Leaving For The Fittes Ball

Like the past few years, the members of Lockwood & Co had been invited to the annual Fittes Ball. Their invitations included a plus one, the date, place, and this years theme - Celestial. Both Lucy and (Y/N) had instantly loved the theme, finding it to be very cute and a spectacular idea. Lockwood was simply intrigued by the idea, and found how excited the girls were to be amazing.

George didn't share their excitement. The thought of fantastical attire and decorations didn't fit into his usual idea of "fun". "I don't know. You guys could just go without me, y'know?" he sighed from across the library. He was in a simple suit, with a borrowed pair of dress shoes Lockwood had gave him. The only celestial item was the small stars on the black shirt underneath his suit jacket.

"And leave me to talk to all the fancy, official people alone, while the girls party? Absolutely not." Lockwood groaned. "Look, you're going with us. Lucy and I are going together, which means you and (Y/N) are going together. Stop complaining." The head of the agency was in similar attire to his friend, but had a white shirt, and small, golden embroidered stars on the lapel of his jacket.

George threw his head back in exhaustion. "I'll just sit there the entire evening, bored. That won't change if (Y/N)'s there or not."

"If I'm where?" a voice startled the boys out of their conversation. In the doorframe of the library stood Lucy and (Y/N), both fully dressed, and ready to go.

Lucy was in a short and sparkly white dress, which reached her knees. A small series of gold constellations ran along the neckline of her dress, and stopped where the shoulders met the sleeves. Small sun earrings dangled from her ears, matching the sun necklace and bracelets she wore. The click of her small black heels echoed through the room as she walked towards Lockwood, taking his arm in hers. A smile grew on her pale, pink lips as she glanced over at her date and her George.

The entire time, George was focused on (Y/N). She was in a longer, black dress, that had silver stars intricately placed all over the bodice, and the waist. Her hair was half pinned back, reveling the moon and star ear set adorning her ears. Even while being dolled up, she still wore her usual black boots - something that seemed to fluster George even more. She wore a star necklace, which was similar to Lucy's, but instead of bracelets, she chose silver rings - three to four on each hand.

"Well, the cab should be outside soon, so I say we wait out there for a minuet. Get some fresh air." Lockwood commented. He and Lucy made their way out of the room, leaving George and (Y/N) to themselves.

"You tidy up well, Georgie." (Y/N) joked. She brought her hand up to his collar, straitening it slightly, before bringing her hand back down.

"Uh.. thank you." he awkwardly mumbled.

"C'mon, we better go outside with the others so we won't be late." she smiled up at him. (Y/N) reached for his arm, taking it just as Lucy had Lockwood's.

Without thinking, George spoke to the girl, almost inaudibly. "You look pretty."

"What was that?"

George straightened up, and turned his head away from (Y/N). "You...look pretty."

As he spoke, (Y/N)'s grin brightened. "Thanks, pretty boy." She pulled George forward, leading him towards the door. As the two exited their home, arm in arm, a aura of giddiness surrounded them - something Lucy and Lockwood noticed, but for their sake, didn't comment on.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Shepherd's Tone

(TW: Religious Trauma, blood/gore/injury, animal death, body/face horror, unhealthy friendships/familial issues.)

"I can't make myself look at it. but She needs me to see what I have done.

Like a deer in headlights, I can see what is coming for me."

Word count: 10'586

Notes: Not much to say for this one. just heed the warnings and enjoy :)

Mark had been staring at his bedroom ceiling for around an hour. His blanket had fallen off of his messy bed a while ago, leaving him exposed to the cool air of the room around him, though he didn’t once attempt to lean over and pick it back up. His eyes blankly stared upward as he laid in the dark, seeing the dim light from downstairs shining from the stairs and barely illuminating the cracked open door leading out of his room. He remained still, taking in a deep breath as he continued to hear the words from the living room underneath him.

He couldn’t make out any proper words of course, considering the floor between him and his parents’ conversation dampened the noise enough to make what they were saying sound muffled and barely decipherable, though Mark couldn’t help but feel his heart wrench whenever he made out the few words his brain was able to process. “Mark,” “help,” “therapy,” and “Wrong” were among them, though Mark could tell by the aggravated and worried tones of their voices that there was more to it than just that. Were they aware Mark could hear them? Or were they just oblivious, hoping the son they were talking about wouldn’t notice and they could simply go back to pretending nothing bad is going on in the morning. Either option made Mark feel sick in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if tears would come out first, or if the urge to scream and shout at them about how he felt would beat it.

Mark chose to cry.

August 12th, 1992. 2:13 AM

Mark was quiet as he walked out of his room, carefully approaching the stairway as he clutched the single remaining strap of his worn out backpack. He quietly walked down the stairs, soon finding himself in the living room as he looked around, pointing his flashlight around the room as an attempt not to use the main light and blow his cover. He let out a soft breath when he saw nothing there before he quickly approached the front door, opening it before leaving the house, locking the door with his spare key before he ran towards his car.

It had been nearly an hour since he heard his parents stop talking and go to bed, yet he could still feel tears trying to fall down his cheeks as he swung open the car door and hopped inside, tossing his bag into the passenger seat. He took in a deep, shaky breath before he started the car, wincing at the sound of the engine starting up and the lights flicking on and shining brightly on the front of the house. As soon as he heard the loud sound and saw the bright lights, he muttered curses to himself, all before he backed out of the driveway as quickly as he could and drove down the road.

He had done this before; multiple times in fact, though his heart still pounded with something he figured was his anxiety creeping up on him, or the frustration he felt deep inside. They didn’t understand, and Mark doubted they would ever understand him, with his father especially feeling as though he didn’t believe a single word Mark said. Mark glanced at his radio, turning up the volume as he drove down the road, his headlights illuminating the nearby forest that ran down both sides of the asphalt. As he listened to the music, he tried nervously humming along, grasping his steering wheel even tighter.

He prayed for a sign that night, just a single sign from God himself to let him know he wasn’t going out of his fucking mind. However, all of his prayers remained unanswered, making his increasing dread in his chest all the worse as the days turned into months. He didn’t even notice that tears were forming in his eyes, nor did he understand why that was the case as they ran down his acne-ridden cheeks. Why? Why him? Why did he of all people have to have this happen to him? He can’t handle this kind of stress, with the fact that no one believed him making everything feel like an unbearable weight on his shoulders. No, he wasn’t losing touch with God, like Arthur seemed to think; if anything, it felt like God was losing touch with him.

Mark felt his knuckles ache with the amount of force he was applying to the worn leather steering wheel, jaw clenched and shoulders tight. Why did Cesar’s House have to be so far away? Why did his parents choose a house outside of town? His drive to school was 45 minutes long, maybe even longer if it’s icy out. God fucking damn it, was it always this fucking cold in the car? Was the shirt he was wearing always that scratchy? Oh God, he couldn’t just hold himself together for five minutes? Why was he crying so damn much? Why was the music louder than he set it at? Why was everything SO FUCKING LOUD-?

A deer was in the road in front of him.

Mark snapped out of his thinking to grab the wheel, swinging it to the side the best he could, though it appeared to be a tad too late. His car slammed against the deer, his wheels screeching against the asphalt as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He froze, his breathing frantic and his mind blank as he shut off his radio and leaned back in his seat, muttering various curses under his breath as he tried to process what just happened. He took in a few deep, shaky breaths before he hesitantly reached for the door’s handle, stepping outside and into the dark road.

“Don’t be alive, don’t be alive, please don’t be alive…” Mark muttered under his breath, clasping his necklace in his hand as he walked In front of his car, seeing the smear of blood and chunks of fur stuck in the grill. “O-Oh…God…” He could only hope the deer died on impact, with the thought he was going to see a half maimed, yet still living animal In front of him making him feel nauseous. He walked through the headlights beams, looking behind the car to see the deer on the side of the road, somewhat lit up by the taillights of the vehicle. Mark took in a deep breath, hesitating before walking towards what looked like a corpse. As he got closer, he fought off the urge to gag at the sight of the large gash on the side of the deer, with its ribs buckled in. Mark was at least glad to see that it appeared to be dead, with its one remaining right antler dug in the dirt by the road and its eyes glazed over. Mark stepped back, staring at the animal as his body shook, still recovering from the shock of the accident. He forced himself to take in a breath, preparing to turn back and continue his drive.

He froze, however, when he began to hear the deer making noise.

He turned back, seeing the deer’s head tilting upward, its vocalizations sounding close to an elk, though choked and gurgling. It groaned and let out bellows as Mark stared at it with horror, with its sounds becoming less natural as the seconds ticked by. It sounded as if it was attempting to speak with vocal chords it didn’t have, sounding out certain parts of words Mark couldn’t identify. M’s, O’s, and Ah sounds came from it; a horrid cascade of animal sounds that were attempting so hard to speak like a human, as if it was so desperate to tell Mark something, but was physically incapable of doing so. It screeched and bellowed, Mark stepping back with every single vocalization until it abruptly stopped. Its head slammed against the dirt as it puked up what appeared to be veins, blood running out of its mouth and onto the cool grass as it became still and silent.

The sounds of the crickets from the woods, along with the sound of the engine running were all the sounds he could hear, with the horrid “speaking” ceasing. Mark stared at the deer, stumbling back as he grasped his necklace, muttering a small prayer under his breath before he ran back to his car and hopped inside, driving away as soon as he shut the door behind him and not looking back.

3:12 AM

Cesar was lying in bed asleep when he heard the knock at his front door. He stirred awake, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to process whether the sound was even real before he heard a more rapid set of knocking, causing him to groan and force himself up. He sat up, rubbing his face as he placed his feet onto the carpet and walked out of his room. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” He stated before hearing more knocks. “Dude, just wait a single minute, jeez…”

He walked into the living room, stepping onto the cold tile in front of the door, wincing slightly at how cold it was before opening the door. He tiredly looked through the doorway before his eyes widened slightly. “…Mark?”

“…H-Hey—”

“Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Yeah, I…I do.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Cesar questioned. “We have school tomorrow—”

“I…Look I just…n…need to talk.”

Cesar glared at Mark with a tired, blank expression. “…Talk over the phone.” Cesar went to shut the door, being stopped by Mark, who grabbed the door with his hand.

“Wait, please, I…” Mark paused for a second, feeling Cesar’s irritated stare even as he looked away. “…I need to stay here tonight, okay? I…I promise I won’t be trouble.”

Cesar remained silent for a second, seemingly thinking before he let out a deep sigh. He relented, stepping out of the way and opening the door. “…You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s fine.” Mark walked into the home, grasping onto his torn backpack tightly before throwing it onto the couch as Cesar sighed and shut the front door.

“Mama’s gonna ask why you’re here,” Cesar said as he approached the archway that led into the kitchen. “And when she does, just…tell her…”

“I will.”

Cesar turned back before pausing, standing still before muttering something, sounding as though the words got caught in his throat for a second. “Y…You can’t…we can’t keep doing this.”

“…What did you say?” Mark asked, not catching what Cesar said.

Cesar appeared to hesitate before responding. “…I said goodnight, we’ll…talk tomorrow.” With that, Cesar left to go to bed, leaving Mark by himself, not even giving him a blanket or pillow. Mark sat in the dark living room in silence, sitting on the couch as he attempted to stop his hands from shaking so much. He clasped his knees, rubbing the denim of his pants as he stared at the ground in front of him, attempting to think of anything aside from the haunting image of the deer splayed out with gore dripping from its mouth. He laid down on the couch, crossing his arms and resting his head on the arm rest, hoping his sweatshirt and jeans would be enough to keep him warm for the night, not even bothering to take off his shoes before he stared forward, lightly rubbing his metal cross before closing his eyes, deciding to try and get some sleep.

??:??

Mark found himself walking down a damp road, looking up at the starless sky to see that it was completely black; past midnight. He stumbled down the asphalt road, barely able to see much of anything through the darkness around him, only able to make out a faint set of red lights in the distance that slowly got closer as he walked towards it. The closer he got the more he made out the vehicle, with the red lights being its taillights. It looked like his car, though its wheels seemed to have melded to the asphalt, throwing out the option of using the car to drive wherever Mark was going, the answer of which he wasn’t even sure of. He walked around the car, seeing that its headlights were shining forward onto something on the road, being something that made Mark’s stomach churn; the body of a deer.

It writhed on the ground, veins hanging from its rapidly salivating mouth, its ribs broken and legs bent. Its oddly human looking eye stared up at Mark as he approached, its mouth opening and jaw twitching as it let out unholy sounds once again. It sounded closer to human speech than before, it “speaking” urgently through its bellows of pain, though once again the words never reached Mark’s ears.

Mark stepped back away from the deer, listening to its vague “words” before he turned back towards the road, wondering if he could manage to hitchhike home. However, he only walked a few feet before he paused abruptly, and covering his mouth as nausea hit him like a freight train. He hunched over in the middle of the road, attempting to throw up something but being unable to get it out, choking and gagging as he clawed at his throat. Blood began to pour out of his nose and the corners of his mouth as he struggled. He felt something clogging up his throat, making it hard to breathe or even choke out a single yell for help before he finally coughed up whatever was stuck into his hands.

Veins; he could feel their pulse still.

He coughed up blood and viscera onto the asphalt below him, eyes watering and staring in horror as he tried to get it out, but being unsuccessful with every attempt. He stepped back further, hearing a loud pulsing in his head as he did so, panicking as he began to hear faint screams, both from the deer and from other things he couldn’t identify. His breaths were becoming nothing more but pained gurgling and gasps, his throat burning and his insides aching. His sweatshirt was stained a deep crimson from the veins hanging from his agape mouth, and his confusion, deep pain and nausea only grew in intensity before he froze. A loud honk of a horn sounded beside him, with him looking to his left, only to see a set of headlights speeding towards him, hitting his bloodied, trembling form.

He awoke abruptly on the couch, splayed out across it as he took in a breath. Blood had streamed down his face from his nose, staining his face and dripping onto his clothes. He couldn’t even process that he was awake before he covered his mouth, sitting up before scrambling out of the living room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, promptly puking into the toilet. He threw up what appeared to be deep-red bile, with him being too disoriented to even process it before he leaned away from the toilet, resting his back against the bathroom counter as he stared forward blankly, holding his hand on his chest as he felt around for his necklace, feeling his heart pound when he realized it was no longer there.

He stood up, flushing the toilet before rushing out of the bathroom, looking at the floor to try and find the missing necklace. He reached the living room before he threw around his things in an attempt to find it, only failing to do so and feeling his chest tighten. “No, no no no no no NO—” He muttered frantically before stopping abruptly, staring forward when he finally saw the necklace, seeing that it was dangling off of the top of one of the clock’s carved in “wings”.

Mark paused, staring at the necklace that was slightly swaying from its spot on the edge of the wooden wing as he approached it. He looked up at it, holding his arm up, with it just barely out of reach as he tried to retrieve the golden cross—

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

The sound of the clock made Mark yell and fall backwards, staring up at the clock’s face, holding onto his necklace tightly before he scrambled to his feet, running out of the room and swinging open the front door of the House, not even remembering to grab his backpack as he slammed the door shut and ran to his car, driving away as soon as he started it. As he drove away, he attempted to ignore how he could’ve sworn the “wing” the necklace was hanging off of twitched and shook the necklace off of itself. It was just his imagination, right? He hoped so, anyway.

7:15 AM

Cesar stared at the drops of blood he found on the bathroom floor in silence. He wasn’t sure why they were there, or why they seemed to trail into the hallway as well, though the sight was unnerving enough for him to back out of the room and gently close the door most of the way. Cesar had thrown on a simple black T-shirt with a faded design on it, along with blue jeans, all before opening his bedroom closet and grabbing a plain gray hoodie and his backpack. He walked out of his bedroom, feeling his exhaustion creeping up on him despite him getting a decent night’s sleep, aside from the interruption that made him stay up for 30 more minutes. He walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh, attempting to rub the tiredness from his eyes as he waited. He continued to sit in silence for a bit until his mind finally clicked something together: Where was Mark?

Cesar had realized that he hadn’t seen Mark since he woke up, or even heard his mother mention him when they ate breakfast. If nothing else, he should’ve been on the couch, yet he wasn’t. He must’ve gone home early, Cesar supposed, sighing with a tinge of annoyance with the realization that him coming over that early in the morning was therefore pointless. However, as he thought to himself, he glanced down at the ground, pausing as his eyes hit something; Mark’s worn out backpack.

The bag itself was hanging on by a single remaining strap, of which was held by a few frayed threads and some pieces of duct tape. It looked as if Mark hadn’t gotten a new one since he was in middle school, or was simply extremely reckless with it. Either way, Cesar reached towards it, grabbing its strap and, against his better judgment and worry of being caught looking through another’s things, he unzipped it to see its contents.

The first thing he saw was, of course, a pair of clothes, being a worn out shirt and blue jeans, but after pushing them to the side, he saw what was buried underneath them; a bible, a notebook, and a couple pencils. Cesar grabbed the notebook, pulling it out and staring at it for a second. Was he really going to look through someone’s personal journal? His curiosity was killing him, and as his hand absentmindedly reached for the cover, he glanced up at the clock, seeing it was only 7:21. He had time.

9:35 AM

The bells rang in the school’s halls, Mark flinching at the noise as he opened his locker, dumping his books into the rest of the mess in there, stopping things from falling out with his arms before slamming the door shut. He stood still for a moment, looking around at the rest of the students talking and walking to their lockers to get ready for the next class, catching the eye of a couple of them. The eye contact never lasted long it seemed, with the other person looking away as soon as they realized who they’re looking at. Mark didn’t blame them; he knew he wasn’t looking the greatest, and his glare was hard enough to cut glass, though at that point, with how exhausted he was, he couldn’t care less. He just needed to get this school day done with—

“Hey.”

Mark looked to his right, seeing Cesar standing close by, staring at him. Mark sighed, figuring he was going to ask where he went last night, or why he was there to begin with, so preparing to have that conversation, Mark responded, “Hey, look I…I need to stop over again after school, I forgot to grab my b…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he looked down, seeing what was hanging from Cesar’s hand; his backpack. “…bag.”

“Just take it.” Cesar held the bag up to Mark, who hesitantly grasped it and held it close before opening his locker once again.

“…Th…Thanks.” Mark said quietly, coughing before quickly shifting his leg to block off the opening of the locker as a pile of loose papers and books nearly spilled out as he placed the bag on the hook over them.

“Look, do you hate me or not?”

Mark paused at the question, turning towards Cesar with a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure if he even heard the question right before responding. “…I d…what do you mean?”

“…I…” Cesar appeared to pause for a moment, gesturing vaguely at the backpack before looking up at Mark. “…I read your journal and saw what…you were saying about me.”

Mark stared at Cesar, stepping away from his locker and letting everything fall out onto the ground. “What?”

“I was curious, alright? I shouldn’t have done it but I really just needed to kno—”

“Why did you do that?”

“Look, I—”

Mark stepped forward, staring down at Cesar with a look that could kill. “Why the FUCK did you look in there?” Mark questioned as he grew closer, ignoring the bell that was ringing behind him.

“Dude, calm down!” Cesar said. “…I just don’t get why you can’t just say this shit to my face.”

“What kind of fucking friend are you?”

“What kind of friend are you?” Cesar snapped back. “You talk about me like I’m a piece of shit that doesn’t care about anything but myself!”

Mark stared at Cesar with a rising fury as he continued. “‘He just doesn’t listen to me, he’s ignoring everything I say,’ As if I haven’t been listening to you since we met.” Cesar spat. “If anything, I’m probably the only person that does listen to you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Mark fists clenched.

“Do you hear what you’re saying half of the time?!” Cesar questioned. “You keep saying weird shit then acting like you didn’t say anything right after! I can only handle so much Mark, I can’t keep listening to your ramblings otherwise I’d go insane too—”

Mark clasped onto Cesar’s shoulders and swung him around, slamming him against the lockers as he stared into Cesar’s eyes. Cesar’s half angry, half concerned look turned to fright as Mark’s hands clasped onto his shoulders hard enough to make them sting, thumbs digging into his collar bones and fingernails digging into his skin. Mark stared at Cesar in silence, jaw clenched and nose beginning to bleed before his furious gaze suddenly vanished, with Mark grasp lessening before they both heard something down the hall:

“HEATHCLIFF!”

Mark’s head snapped around, seeing one of the teachers staring at the two as Mark backed away. The teacher appeared furious before she continued; “I expect you to be in the principal’s office by the end of the day.”

Cesar rubbed his sore shoulder before looking at Mark, who was staring at the teacher like a deer in headlights, his hands tense and fingers twitching. Mark glared at Cesar from the side of his eye, clasping his hands together as if he just needed to squeeze something very hard. However, the fury was gone from his stare, replaced with a look of fear, for a reason Cesar was unsure of. Either way, Cesar couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if the teacher didn’t step in, and wondered how close Mark’s hands would’ve gotten to his neck before he stopped.

All Cesar knew was that he could barely even recognize who he was staring at when they made eye contact.

Mark sat outside of the principal’s office, his leg bouncing and his elbows planted on his knees as he stared at the linoleum floor. Every other student had already left, leaving him by himself in a silent hall. He could hear his mother and the principal speaking through the door, only barely muffled by the wall and door itself, allowing him to make out a part of their conversation:

“These outbursts appear to be…getting more common, Mrs. Heathcliff, and I’m simply worried of them getting only more violent if something isn’t done soon.”

“I…I understand that.” Leah stated, her voice soft as usual. “He’s…he’s a good young man, I-I don’t…I don’t know why he would react like that towards a friend, I mean…Cesar and Mark have been joined at the hip since they were children, I don’t understand why he’d suddenly become so…aggressive.”

“I understand your concern. However, if these behaviors continue, then I’m…afraid action will have to be taken.”

“What kind of action?”

“Suspension, to…possible expulsion from the Mandela County school system.”

“…You can’t be serious.” Leah’s voice quivered as she spoke.

“Of course, expulsion is only for extreme measures, and at this point, I don’t believe it will be necessary, though I’m only warning you that behaviors like these can lead to only more problems later on. Have you…spoken to him about this before?”

“…I…suppose not.”

“I’d recommend you start. Your child appears troubled, Ma’am, and I feel the best course of action is consulting his councilor and speaking to him personally. I understand now is…a hard time for everyone, and I’ve seen my fair share of students being put under extreme stress due to these unprecedented events, and I believe Mark is a similar case.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you for coming in today, ma’am. I’m…hoping this will be the last time we have a conversation like this.”

“…I do too.”

Mark waited a little while longer, no longer paying attention as he blankly stared at the ground, all before the door opened beside him and he looked up, only to see his mother’s face staring back at him.

“You alright?” Leah asked softly.

Mark remained silent, the guilty look in his eyes answering for him.

“…I have work in a little while, do you want to come with me?”

Mark looked away for a moment; did he really want to spend the rest of the day at the library? He thought about it before looking back up at his mother’s face, the sad gaze she was giving him making him decide before he nodded in silence. If it made his mom happy, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time finding books to read. If nothing else, it was a quiet environment he could stay in as he recovered from how overwhelmed he felt. Leah smiled softly before Mark stood up, with her standing by Mark’s side as they left the school, finally putting an end to Mark’s horrid school day.

The drive to the library was a silent one, Leah occasionally pointing out things, like stores already putting things up for Halloween despite it being a couple months away, or waving to someone she recognized from church. She talked to Mark, not expecting or needing a response from him, just making sure he was listening by glancing at him every once in a while. Mark simply looked out the window, seeing it was a cloudy, gray day outside, looking as if it was about to rain. It was dreary outside, though Mark didn’t mind that much; just gave him an excuse to stay inside.

Leah led Mark into the large library in the middle of downtown when they arrived there, Mark looking around the expansive, two-floored library with a neutral look on his face. He had been there a few times before, learning that it had been constructed a long time ago from Leah, though the old architecture was somewhat obvious when he saw how worn out some things were. He looked around and saw that there was barely anyone there aside from a couple of people at the computers or walking around, browsing the books on the shelves.

“Alright, if you need anything you can just come get me at the front desk,” Leah said quietly, turning to face Mark. “If I’m not there, I went to go tend to something and won’t be gone long, alright? You’re free to do anything here, just…please don’t get into trouble.”

Mark nodded quietly, with Leah smiling softly before turning and walking away, leaving Mark by himself to figure out a way to entertain himself. He put his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, beginning to look around, his tired eyes looking over the books as he tried to find anything of interest to him. He read title, after title, after another title, seeing none that piqued his interest whatsoever. In fact, most of the ones that he recognized were because he had read them in class before, made to write a book report on them despite most of them being boring and predictable. That or he had already read most of them on his own time, like most of the books from Stephen King. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times he’s read “The Shining”, or watched the movie of the same name, basically able to recite everything that happens in both by heart. 

He sighed, walking out of the aisle and towards a small table he saw against one of the walls, one that had a printer on it, available for anyone to use. He walked towards it, opening the printer and grabbing a few pieces of paper from it before shutting it once again, all before grabbing a pencil that was on the desk and walking towards one of the tables in the middle of the room. However, he paused, glancing at something on the wall before he stopped walking, staring at it for a while. On the wall was a public cork board, one that anyone could paste whatever they wanted onto it to promote an event or anything of the sort. One of the papers on it drew his attention however, seemingly pasted over a pile of similar papers.

It was a missing poster for a young man, who seemed to be named “Michael Richards.” The picture was of a man with a short, low ponytail, and an open hoodie with colored sleeves, the color of which Mark was unsure of due to the photo being in black and white. He couldn’t see anything below the mid-torso area, though Mark was more focused on the face of him. The face nor the name rang a bell in Mark’s mind, though the sight of him smiling widely, seeming to be having fun despite his face being plastered on a missing poster made a pit form in Mark’s gut. A face of happiness on something that was basically a public death certificate for the Mandela area.

Mark shook off the sudden chill up his spine before continuing his walk to the tables, sitting down and placing the blank papers in front of him, staring at them with his pencil in hand as he thought of something to draw. He rested his head on his free hand, staring at the blank page in silence as he absentmindedly scratched his head. He felt as though he was being watched, hunching over his papers as if he was scared someone was watching him doodle from right behind him. Mark glanced around, seeing that no one was even close to him, nor paying him any attention, so he let out a sigh and began to draw.

A few hours had passed, and Mark threw yet another crumpled up paper ball into the trash, with his left hand stained with graphite. He sighed deeply, walking towards the front desk to see Leah speaking with someone on the other side of it. Mark waited for their conversation to be over, resting his arms on the tall desk as he looked around. He was starting to feel hungry, most likely due to him skipping breakfast that morning, despite his mother cooking for them. He looked out of the front doors of the building, seeing that the sky was already beginning to turn orange as evening approached. He stared outside blankly, looking at nothing in particular before Leah spoke.

“You alright?”

Mark looked back to see Leah was looking at him with a slightly concerned look on her face. He nodded before Leah spoke again. “You want to go home?” she asked softly.

Mark nodded again.

“Alright, I’m going to be here for another few hours, but I’ll call home and see if your father can come pick you up,” Leah reached towards  one of the phones on the desk before looking back up at Mark, who had a look of disappointment on his face. “…you know what? How about I see if I…can get off a little early tonight. Maybe we can do something like…play a board game or something. Does that sound alright to you?”

Mark glanced to the side, thinking to himself for a while. His true plan was to go home, get some quick dinner then go to bed, even if he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to yet another night of night terrors. He looked back to Leah, nodding slightly once again, causing a faint smile to form on her face. “Alright. I’ll go ahead and call Arthur then.” She stated. Mark started to walk away, though Leah stopped him by speaking once again. “One more thing…” Mark turned to face her, seeing she was smiling, though it was a sort of sad smile. “…Thank you for staying here with me. I think it’s good for you to get out and around like this, you know?”

Mark didn’t respond, looking at the ground and nodding slightly before walking away. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the ride home that would most certainly involve his father berating him for his school mishap, though at least he had a couple hours of peace and hopefully more when he got home.

9:15 PM

Mark stared blankly into the living room from the kitchen, leaning against the wall as he watched Leah and Sarah playing with building blocks on the carpet. He could feel his exhaustion creeping up on him, judging by the heavy eyelids and the foggy mind. He would’ve gone up to his room by then, sleeping the night away until morning came, but something was keeping him up, whether it was his fear of nightmares or his insomnia. He supposed it didn’t matter either way; if he was going to stay up, he might as well accept it.

He opened the fridge door, digging through everything in there before grabbing an energy drink he had hidden in there. He looked at it, standing up straight before closing the fridge door. He jumped, startled by the sight of his father standing there, staring at him before looking down and seeing the can in Mark’s hand.

“…You know those aren’t good for you.” He stated. “They’re bad for your heart.”

“…Y…Yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t get in the habit of drinking those.” Arthur sighed.

“I won’t.” Mark turned to go upstairs, Arthur watching him before speaking again.

“Oh, before you go,” Arthur called. “The trash needs to be taken out, could you do that? I need to get some bills paid.”

Mark looked at Arthur, one step on the first stair before he sighed and stepped back down. “…Yeah I…can do that.”

“Good. Though don’t be out there for too long,” Arthur stated. “People have been hearing what sounds like a bear around here.”

“There aren’t bears around here…” Leah said. “It’s probably one of the neighbor’s dogs.”

“Either way, just get it done, alright?”

“Mm-hm.” Mark placed the can on the kitchen table before brushing past Arthur and towards the trash can. He tied up the trash bag, pulling it out and lugging it over his shoulder, hoping nothing spilled out or broke as he approached the back door.

It was already getting dark, with the sky being a deep blue, near fully black. He couldn’t see much past the back porch light as he stepped out onto the concrete, looking around before spotting the trashcan right to the side of the porch, on the other side of the wooden railing. He sighed, taking one last quick glance around his dark backyard before opening the small gate and stepping onto the damp grass. He whistled to himself as he opened the garbage can’s lid and threw the bag into it, hearing it thump against the bottom of the plastic bin.

He wiped his hands on his pants as he walked around the porch, placing his hand on the gate to open it before he paused, feeling a more intense feeling of being watched than he felt in the library, making his blood run cold. He looked behind him, into the trees, but saw nothing but darkness and whatever overgrown plants were there past the yard line. He turned to his right, seeing the empty road, also seeing nothing. He turned to his left and—

There was a face staring back at him from the tree line.

Mark couldn’t move as he stared at the Figure in his yard; a monochrome man in a jacket with colored sleeves and a black shirt, with its dark hair tied back. Its face however was what made Mark’s heart pound, seeing two large, near completely black eyes aside from the small hints of white staring back at him from the dark. Its gaping maw was impossibly wide open, its eerily white teeth the only thing visible in the blackness. It was only the top half of the body, and Mark could see its organs hanging from the bottom half of its torso, and its arm bones and veins hanging from torn arm stumps, bloodying its clothes and bleeding onto the grass below it, hovering as if it still had legs to stand on.

Mark stared at it with wide eyes, unable to look away as if he was trapped in some kind of trance. It didn’t seem to be moving, or at least on a passing glance, though Mark could tell the longer he stared that it was ever so slowly approaching, its face unchanging. Mark finally shook off his sudden paralysis, swinging open the gate and scrambling onto the porch, locking the gate behind him before lunging towards the back door. He fumbled with the doorknob, finding that it was locked, as if it was jammed. He slammed his hand against the door, screaming for someone to open it before turning back towards where he saw the Figure, only to find that the yard was empty once again. He froze, silently searching for the Figure before he turned around fully.

Its two beady eyes stared back at Mark from the other side of the porch, its head twitching ever so slightly as its gaze never once moved away from Mark’s cowering form. Mark backed away, staring at the Figure as he tried to do anything aside from stand in one place, despite his legs turning into jelly. He stared into the thing’s eyes; its unblinking, unmoving eyes. Mark’s eyes watered and his throat was too tight to even let out a sob before his eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as elephants.

Then he fell asleep.

Mark couldn’t process what his parents were saying when he woke up, hearing them somewhere in the room with him, with them speaking in hushed, worried tones to each other. Mark hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but he could gather that he was lying on the living room couch, with what felt like an ice pack on his head. Perhaps the ice pack was a good call, considering the throbbing pain he felt in his skull. He overheard his mother talking to his father, seemingly contemplating taking Mark to the hospital; as if he hadn’t gone there enough already. Mark winced slightly at yet another sharp pain in his head before he finally opened his eyes, being greeted by Arthur standing at the end of the couch, one hand on the back of it as he looked at Leah, who was in a chair to the side of said couch.

“Mark!” Leah all but jumped out of her seat when she finally saw Mark’s eyes were open, kneeling by the couch and lightly caressing Mark’s head. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Mark couldn’t even get an answer out, with any words he could say becoming lodged in his throat. Instead, he let out a groggy “I don’t know”, not even attempting to make his voice loud enough to hear it clearly.

“W-We found you on the porch, just passed out I-I thought something happened to you—” Leah covered her mouth, taking in a deep breath as she suppressed her urge to cry. “Do you remember anything?”

Mark stared blankly at Leah, thinking hard as he slowly sat up, wincing when he felt his headache come back. After a few moments, he began speaking: “I was…taking out the trash ‘nd…” Mark said quietly. “I…I w…”

The Figure’s gaze pierced his soul when he remembered it.

“…I don’t know, I…think I just…passed out.”

“Leah…” Arthur said softly. “I think you should…go get some rest.”

“I…I’m fine.” Leah said, her voice wavering slightly. “Just a…a little…I…”

“Sarah needs to be taken to bed anyway.” Arthur said. “I think you need some time to…calm down.”

Leah sighed, looking at Mark before kissing his forehead and walking away, grabbing Sarah’s arm as she led her upstairs, Mark seeing Sarah was looking at him as they walked away. Mark stared at the stairway for a few moments as Arthur sat on the chair by the couch, sighing deeply as he did so.

“…What did you see out there?”

Mark looked at Arthur with furrowed brows and a confused look on his face.

“You’ve…mentioned seeing things lately, but you never said what.” Arthur continued. “What have you been seeing?”

Mark’s stare alone questioned why Arthur needed to know that.

“…You know, sometimes people are given visions.” Arthur stated. “Many of God’s prophets were given these visions or…messages to give to the people of this world. Sometimes they seem…vague, or confusing or…even frightening to some, but they have to…mean something. So I just want to know…what you have been experiencing. Because…it’s possible God’s trying to…speak through you.”

“…I d…I don’t think it’s God, Dad.” Mark muttered, lightly rubbing his necklace with his thumb.

“There’s a possibility it could be.” Arthur said, leaning forward. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Mark looked at the ground blankly, thinking of what he could say or do before he closed his eyes for a moment. “…I was driving t…to Cesar’s house last night.” Mark started. “I just…w…wanted to…to stay the night, but when I was driving I…I hit a…deer.”

“…I see.” Arthur figured that explained the stains and fur on the front of the car. “…What about this?”

“…I checked on the deer and…” Mark paused, thinking carefully, staring at the floor with an unblinking stare. “…It wasn’t dead.”

Arthur simply nodded, his brows somewhat furrowing.

“…It tried speaking to me.” Mark said in a monotone voice. “…Vomiting out its organs and veins. Attempting to talk to me with vocal chords it didn’t have. It wanted to speak to me. It needed to give me a message, but was incapable of doing so.”

Arthur sat up and leaned back in his seat, mouth open slightly as Mark continued.

“I saw it in a dream the same night. Its words were clearer but they still never reached my ears.” Mark droned. “I felt them…crawling under my skin. Veins pushing themselves out of my body; choking me. All-encompassing agony. A mind running with thoughts that didn’t belong to me. My misery was only ended by the sight of two headlights coming towards me.”

Mark shook his head slightly, finally blinking and rubbing his dried out eyes. “…And then I…woke up. I had t…to vomit after that dream, and I just f-felt so…sick. I went home right after.”

Mark looked up to see Arthur staring at him with widened eyes, stuck in a stunned silence before he gestured towards his nose. Mark stared at Arthur with confusion before he began to taste blood, feeling something warm running out of one of his nostrils. “O-Oh…shit.” Mark stood up, immediately heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Arthur watched him leave, unable to speak as his hands trembled slightly. He could barely put his own thoughts together, only recognizing a deep feeling of dread within him that he hasn’t felt before.

Maybe Mark was right; it didn’t sound like God was the one speaking to his son.

August 13th, 1992. 2:12 AM

Mark laid on his side, curled up in the middle of it in the fetal position as he held his necklace in his hand, using his other arm to lightly rub his opposite shoulder. His family had fallen asleep hours ago, seemingly without much effort, though Mark appeared to not have been blessed with such a thing. He stared forward, not at anything in particular, his green eyes staring into the darkness visible through the cracked open bedroom door, not once looking away. He shook slightly, both from the lack of a blanket over him and the discomfort in his body, feeling as if his insides itched and couldn’t be scratched.

He realized it was silly to be afraid of the dark, especially as a near legal adult that ditched his nightlight when he was 10, though his mind didn’t seem to think so. Flashes of that thing’s face appeared in his mind, imagining it staring back at him from the hallway, waiting for him to fall asleep. Mark’s bloodshot eyes were beginning to become dried out from his unblinking stare, stinging enough to make him tear up before he finally closed them for a moment, opening them back up right after, seeing that the door was open further than it was. Mark let out a panicked gasp, sitting up and scrambling for his flashlight on his nightstand, turning it on to see that nothing was in the hallway, yet the door creaked open slowly before stopping entirely. His breathing was harsh before he managed to calm himself down, deciding it was best to go then instead of later.

Mark stood up, shambling around his room, kicking away trash and piles of clothes before standing in the doorway, looking down the dark hall before sneaking towards the stairway. He quietly walked down the carpeted stairs, into the living room, and towards the front door, looking back at his house as he reached for the doorknob, pausing for a moment before opening the door and leaving the house without a word and without a thought.

The drive to Cesar’s house was a quiet one, with Mark not even bothering to turn on the radio, with only his thoughts keeping him company along with the gentle sound of the AC. He stared forward blankly, unmoving and silent, eyes darting around the dark woods to the sides of the road, searching for the reflected lights of an animal’s eyes. Yet, that night appeared more silent and empty than it was before, with no surprise buck there to hit. However, he half expected to see the slowly decaying corpse of the deer he hit the previous night, though he never saw one, even as he passed by the spot he hit it at; another animal must have gotten to it. The food chain was still in effect despite the rest of the world falling apart, it appeared.

The town was as empty as usual when Mark finally drove through its border, blankly staring through his windshield as he drove through the large gateway leading into Wisteria Avenue. Cesar’s house was completely dark, with both him and his mother presumably asleep when Mark parked on the side of the road, staring at the house with dull eyes before he hesitantly opened up his car door, stepping onto the curb before approaching the front door. To his surprise however, the door appeared to be slightly opened; almost inviting to anyone who wanted to come in. The worry of a possible intruder lingered in Mark’s mind as he reached for the strangely warm door knob, though was quickly snuffed out when he heard the sound of an all too familiar ticking noise coming from inside.

There it was; the clock Mark had seen in dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations alike. He walked into the living room, staring at the clock’s face, its hands moving with every beat. Mark turned towards the archway leading into the kitchen, carefully walking towards it, before moving through the kitchen, and towards the back hallway, eyes somewhat glistening in the dark as he approached one of the doors. He grabbed the handle, slowly opening it part way, its hinges creaking as he looked inside, seeing a bedroom. Cesar was sleeping in his bed, completely still and not even reacting to Mark’s presence whatsoever.

Vulnerable.

Mark slowly shut the door after only a few seconds of blank staring, all before he heard them once again; the bells ringing three times. Mark walked out of the hallway, back through the kitchen, passing by a set of glass sliding doors, partially cloaked by curtains. He glanced outside, seeing nothing of interest in the backyard aside from the faint orange light from a nearby streetlight, though the darkness made him turn his head away, imagining widened eyes staring back at him from the dark if he didn’t look away first.

When he made it back into the living room, he saw the clock once again, but noticed two things when he approached it: There was an odd, sweet smell coming from it, almost like vanilla. Secondly, the door was opened, the compartment with the pendulum being exposed somewhat through the partially opened glass door. Mark didn’t even know that the door could be opened, assuming it was completely stuck shut for a reason he didn’t know. However, there it was, open, almost like it wanted him to take a closer look at its inner workings. However, when Mark lightly pressed his cool hand on the door to look closer, he was interrupted by the sound of a loud thud against something on the other side of the House.

Mark backed away from the clock, peeking from behind the kitchen archway to see the glass doors had a new red smear on the outside of them, dripping down onto the small patio below it. Mark stared at the stain, stumbling towards the doors, pushing the curtains out of the way as he looked outside, seeing nothing but grass and trees past the backyard once again. His eyes glanced from side to side, all before he heard a loud deer call just out of view. He flinched, backing away as he placed his hand on his chest and over his necklace, all before sighing, feeling embarrassed that he was scared by the local wildlife. He unlocked and slid open the glass door, looking to the right, expecting to see a doe or even a buck standing there munching on grass or something, only to find that his blood ran cold when he finally saw it. 

“You.”

The deer hobbled along on only its front legs, with its two back legs appearing lame and unusable. Its left antler was hanging on by a single bit of broken bone and nerves, and its side appeared bloody and broken. How the deer made it all the way here from the road to Cesar’s house with only two working legs astounded and frightened Mark to no end, making him nearly want to vomit. It leaned down and began gnawing at a rotten apple on the ground, from the tree that was right behind it. Mark couldn’t look away as it chewed and ate the rotten fruit as if it would kill it if it didn’t. After a few moments of horrified silence, Mark watched it raise its head, facing Mark and staring at him with constricted pupils. Veins and sinew were hanging from its agape mouth as its head twitched and legs trembled. Mark took a step towards the glass doors behind him, preparing to go back insi—

The deer was pounced on by a tall, pale figure that leaped out from the tree line. Mark yelled, stumbling back and falling into the kitchen as he heard loud, staticy yells and screeches, along with pained bellows from the deer just outside. Mark scrambled to his feet, slamming the door shut and closing the curtains, backing away until he was against the opposite wall. He could hear flesh tearing and bones crunching as Mark shuffled towards the archway, all before Mark ran towards the front door, ignoring the clock and swinging open the door, slamming it shut behind him before he booked it to his car. He had never started a vehicle that quickly in his life, backing away from the House and speeding down the road, not once bothering to check if he was under the speed limit. He felt as though he was missing something as he drove away, despite not bringing anything there, but it didn’t matter. Mark wasn’t lingering long enough to see what that large humanoid wanted.

6:10 AM

Mark audibly groaned when he heard the sound of his alarm clock that morning. He knocked the alarm clock over, it hitting the ground with a soft thud, thankfully hitting a pile of clothes on the ground next to the nightstand. Mark stared at the ceiling, still wearing the clothes he wore to Cesar’s House; in fact, he hadn’t slept at all during that time, only staring at the ceiling blankly with dried out eyes, only blinking every couple minutes at least. Another night of fearing nightmares and swearing he heard sounds outside his window, his heart beating hard enough to keep waking him up whenever he dared to doze off. He pondered whether he wanted to stay at home and pretend he was sick, or go to school and get another boring and overwhelming day done with, and knowing the amount of missing days he’s already taken, he reluctantly decided on the latter.

He groggily sat up, sitting in place for a few moments before standing up on two shaky legs, shambling towards his bedroom door, grabbing his backpack on the way then moving through the hallway. When he made it downstairs, he saw Leah in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for him and Sarah, with Sarah already at the kitchen table. The smell of food alone, even if it smelled good, made Mark feel nauseous, getting rid of any appetite he had left. Mark stared at Leah and Sarah for a moment before speaking.

“Is Sarah done eating?”

“…Oh she hasn’t eaten yet, I’m still making everything.” Leah explained. “Though, she’s going to stay home today anyway, if…you’re ready to go.”

“…Why isn’t she going?”

“She’s getting a cold, it seems…” Leah sighed. “Got it from her classmates I reckon.”

“Hm.” Mark looked towards the front door with a tired, half-lidded glare.

“…Oh, by the way…did you…leave last night?” Leah asked. “I-I’m not mad, I just don’t think it’s safe to—”

Leah turned to see the front door open, only to close soon after, with Mark completely missing from the living room. Leah sighed softly, looking back at the stove and pan of eggs with a worried look in her eyes, lightly rubbing her thumb on her sapphire necklace.

11:23 AM

Mark was losing it in that fucking school.

Mark stared at his desk, scratching the wood of it with his chipped nails, leaving small lines in its surface. He stared at the math worksheet he had been given, with only a few scratched out answers in the spots given and the rest covered in what must have been hundreds of small, messy doodles. He couldn’t even think of the rest of the answers, his brain moving as slow as molasses yet as quickly as a racecar. He looked around, seeing the rest of his classmates staring at their worksheets in complete silence, with not even music blotting out the thoughts (or lack thereof) in his head. Nothing and everything all at once.

Mark glanced towards the other side of the room, seeing Cesar sitting at his own desk. Mark was surprised he hadn’t chewed out Mark about what happened the previous day, yelling at him about how they weren’t friends anymore and how he wished that Mark was dead. Perhaps a cruel thought, and maybe misplaced, but Mark would’ve rather had Cesar be the one to yell at him about how unstable he was than his own mind. At the very least, he could choke out the words of someone else, but not his own mind.

The clock in that room was starting to sound like a jackhammer in Mark’s ears. It felt as grating as nails on a chalkboard, all the while the feeling of being watched didn’t once subside. Mark couldn’t concentrate on whatever work he was meant to be doing, only staring blankly downwards, and waiting for the bell to ring once again. He felt as though his own thoughts were overrun by something else, making him unable to even think of a single thing on his own clearly. Mark glanced up at the board at the front of the room, seeing that the words on it were warped in his vision, nearly completely unreadable. Mark began to regret going to school; he would’ve rather risked getting suspended for absence than deal with the horrible feelings he had while at that school.

Mark took in a deep breath, attempting to gather his thoughts as he looked around, rubbing his necklace to try and ground himself as he attempted to not panic in the middle of the classroom. He looked at the teacher, who was sitting at his desk, staring at a few papers on it in silence. Everything was silent aside from the damned clock hung up on the wall, one whose ticks and tocks made Mark want to rip his hair out. As every second went by, he felt more and more exhausted, with his mind foggy and thoughts unclear. He felt as though something else’s hands were wrapping against his head, making him move at its will and not his own.

BANG.

The first loud bang caused everyone in the class to flinch, with Cesar even dropping his pencil.

BANG.

The second one, albeit not as loud as the previous one, was enough to make everyone turn around, Cesar turning to see what was going on. Mark on the other end of the classroom, face down on the desk, blood gushing out of his now broken nose when Cesar all but leapt out of his seat and ran towards Mark, with even the teacher standing up and making his way to Mark’s desk.

“Mark?!” Cesar questioned, making Mark look up, blood pouring out of his nose, and his bloodshot eyes looking up at his “friend”. “Mark what the fuck happened?!”

“I’ll call the nurse and take him down th—” The teacher offered, but was interrupted by Cesar.

“N-No, I’ll just take him there—get up—” Cesar grabbed Mark’s arm, hoisting it over his shoulders before stumbling towards the door, trying his best to ignore the stares of his fellow concerned and frightened classmates as he left the room.

Cesar and Mark limped down the hallway towards the office, Cesar struggling to hold Mark’s weight due to Mark barely holding himself up. Cesar glanced up at Mark’s face, seeing two, dead, yet scared eyes staring back at him from under his messy hair. “W…What the FUCK was that?!" Cesar questioned. “…Why?!”

“I…d…I-I d…don’t…” Mark muttered so quietly Cesar could barely hear him. “I d…didn..t…sh…she…I-I…”

“Look man just…fuck, just hang in there, alright? We’re almost there,” Cesar said quickly, spotting the office at the end of the hall. “We’ll figure out how to fi—”

“Why.”

“…What?” Cesar paused for a second, seeing Mark was staring down at him with widened eyes.

“…I th…thought y-you…y…you hated…me.”

Cesar thought for a moment, looking at the ground before shaking his head. “We’ll talk about it later, just…” Cesar glanced down at the floor below Mark’s feet, seeing the growing puddle of blood under his shoes. “…Fuck, okay just…keep moving.”

Cesar continued to all but drag Mark to the office, trying to ignore how dread-inducing Mark’s dead-eyed stare was so he could walk the final distance there.

7:33 PM.

Silence.

For once Mark was staring at the ceiling in silence, but now finally feeling as though his brain was clearing up, enough for him to think for himself. The tight bandages on his nose hurt like hell, as well did the cross in his clenched fist that made his palm bleed, though the pain didn’t matter to him anymore. He stared at the bathroom ceiling, the water in the bath around him long since cooling down, to the point where it was barely lukewarm.

For once he felt…calm. Or at least as calm as the looming sense of dread that never left him would allow. As he laid in the water, fully clothed but not caring of how drenched his clothes would be afterwards, he let his mind become completely blank. Perhaps his emotions and thoughts had become so numb due to how overwhelming everything had become, stripping him of every ounce of energy he had and leaving nothing more than a husk. Either way, he didn’t even flinch at the sound of the knock on the bathroom door, only turning his head towards it before hearing a familiar, yet friendly voice.

“…Mark?”

Mom.

Mark sat up straight, letting out a quiet “yes?”, only really audible to him and him alone.

“…Are you alright?” Leah asked from the other side of the door, her voice soft and comforting. She heard movement and water splashing on the other side of the door before it was opened, Leah letting out a small gasp when she saw Mark standing there, with clothes that were dripping water onto the tiled floor and a hand that was covered in his own blood. Leah stared at Mark, letting out a saddened, soft, wavering smile before brushing Mark’s hair away from his left eye, seeing his green eyes in full. “…Y…You know I love you…don’t you?” She asked with a slight squeak in her voice.

Mark’s intense, blank stare was fixated at his mother’s face, eyes beginning to water before he wrapped his arms around Leah, sobbing into her shoulder as Leah returned the hug. Leah herself felt tears swelling up in her eyes, and began crying quietly as she embraced her son, not wanting to let go no matter what.

“I love you…don’t you ever forget that…ever.” She squeaked past her tears. “…God…please…” She choked on her own words before muttering one last thing:

“I just want my son back.”

[marc--chilton]

mgv house!! okay so what if house is left alone in his & wilson’s apartment while wilson goes to a conference in another state, and something about being away from wilson for a longer period than normal mixed with a bad pain day triggers an early heat. he tries to ignore it for a day or so, since wilson had scheduled this so perfectly to line up with their cycles (which had synced and were due in like a week) BUT eventually he just Cannot Handle It so he calls wilson absolutely RABID with the need to be railed so hard he forgets his own name. cue wilson pacing a hotel room and trying to a) get a plane home asap, like calling around madly trying to find some way to get back to his omega. b) have desperate needy phone sex with house to try and help as much as he can from a distance and c) keep his own rut at bay which is becoming increasingly more difficult since he keeps hearing house whining and begging and pleading and whimpering about how desperately he needs to be knotted 🥰 pls also imagine what both of them would do the SECOND wilson opens the front door to their apartment. thank u for ur time

HELLOOOOOOOO ANON

some omegas cycles aren't so bad, manageable with toys if an alpha isn't available, but house's heats are SO bad. he fevers, he aches, and the stress to his system aggravates his leg until he's in agony. the echo of his Doctor Brain telling him the endorphins will help; his hands shook so bad when he tried to take some vicodin he dropped the bottle out of his nest, and getting out of it when he feels that bad is unfathomable.

he still has the phone at his bedside, though. and even as miserable and stupid as he is, he still manages to call wilson. luckily wilson is his hotel room in vermont when he picks up because house's keening is more than audible to any would-be passerby. he hadn't even had a chance to snarkily greet him before house was whining these awful rattling breaths. it sets off alarms immediately. he knows those noises.

"it's your heat, isn't it?" a meek yeah tinged with pain is his answer.

but when he tries to hang up so he can call cuddy, house sobs. the resolve shatters instantly. so wilson instead calls cuddy with the room's phone with his cell close enough for house to pick up his voice but with his thumb over the speaker to muffle the sounds of an omega in distress.

at first, cuddy simply does not believe him. "he's probably just bored and trying to trick you. there's that saying, 'everyone lies'--"

and it swells something ugly and protective in his gut, just like every other time he has to defend house from her, or the board, or vogler, or tritter, or the fucking hundreds of other people that have the power to make house's life worse.

"you think i don't know my own omega?" he growls without thinking. a challenge is clear in his words, one alpha to another. later wilson would wince at his choice of words and nothing else.

the line crackles with cuddy's sigh after a few seconds of silence -- even house's muffled whining on the cell has dimmed. "dammit, wilson," she huffs wearily. "he's already pulling you down to his level. at this rate you'll be in full rut by tomorrow, just in time for your panel--"

"i know, lisa." wilson has to set his cell down to pinch the bridge of his nose before he snaps again. "but i need you to find me the next flight back. he needs me."

cuddy's tone is laced with something almost sad among the ire. "he always needs you, wilson. you owe me." then she hangs up.

he lets himself have a moment of composure only to realize house has been quiet. cautious, not unlike how he would approach house when he's in the throes of it in person, he puts the cell back up to his ear. house is saying something and sheets are rustling. "house? you still with me? i can't hear you."

the shifting gets louder -- did he drop the phone? -- and suddenly house is panting into the receiver, "yours... 'm yours, always..." and wilson is FLOORED at how he can almost smell the pheromones through the phone, can practically see house's pathetic attempts to grind into the bed when his leg is spasming.

it's so pitiful it makes wilson's heart clench and his slacks tight. "oh, honey...."

[writethrough]

something fluff for morpheus x reader but as lord meowpheus, since reader loves cat and she's sad, he tries to cheer her up. thank u <3

Kitty Comforts

(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Language, Lord Meowpheus

Word Count: 739

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you don't mind that I put my own little spin on this by making the reader allergic. I figured, "write what you know" for this instance. And I thought the idea of Morpheus being the only cat the reader could be around was kinda cute. I hope you enjoy!

You’d been awfully quiet today. It wasn't your usual quiet either. Not the one that gave him soft smiles and trailed your fingers against him when you passed. It was defensive quiet. One that hunched your shoulders ever so slightly and kept your gaze from meeting his.

Morpheus knew that, on occasion, certain stimuli would overwhelm you: the beep of the microwave, the sunlight, the eyes of others—it all surrounded you, and you didn’t know how to react. You didn't fight until you were at your breaking point. You didn’t flee because you didn’t want to draw attention to something you couldn’t explain until it was over. You froze.

And Morpheus could feel it.

The shift in energy from you. How you sat in the armchair instead of beside him. How you faced the window, leaning against the armrest, your head pushed into the back to muffle some noise.

He didn’t know how to pull you out of this. He wanted nothing more than to see your smile and feel your embrace, but he knew that would only make things worse. Even him sitting here made you uncomfortable.

It was only him—the one you adored most—and he was causing discomfort simply because he was an additional body in the room.

But he didn’t have to be.

Once, you’d told him how much you wanted a cat.

When he inquired why you didn’t get one, you told him you were allergic.

Perhaps it was time he granted that long-held wish.

—

You weren’t sure how long you were in this chair. Time moved excruciatingly slowly and rapidly.

Morpheus had arrived, and it was like a switch amplified every nerve-ending.

Everything aggravated you, annoyed you—made you want to scream and run and cry, but you didn't do anything. You only sat there and tried to make yourself as small as possible.

You wanted to look on the bright side—you really did.

Morpheus didn’t make noise. He was the most silent person you knew. If you didn’t look at him, it'd be like he wasn’t there.

But he was. You knew he was. And the fact that you didn’t want to look at him or talk to him frustrated you more.

You loved him. Nothing could change that. But you were just so fucking overstimulated that if you did anything other than what you were now, you’d explode, and you weren’t sure how.

So, when a dark-as-night cat leapt onto the armrest you were facing, you may have short-circuited.

You stared at one another. You: confused, and the cat patient, waiting for something.

Yet, it was like you’d seen it before. Those eyes. They held intelligence—pools of a night you could lose yourself in.

And that’s when you looked to where Morpheus had been seated.

It was empty.

And now, there was a cat.

“Morpheus?” you whispered.

The cat bowed its head slightly, its tail swishing when it rose.

Then for the first time that day, you let out an incredulous laugh.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

His paw tentatively touched your knee. When you didn’t push him away or say anything, he balanced himself on you, stepping carefully to circle and settle in your lap.

Your bent knees squished him some, but he didn’t mind, especially when he rubbed his head against your chest and purred.

You scratched along his neck and behind his ear, marveling at how soft his fur was.

“Pretty kitty,” you mumbled, receiving a soft meow.

You sat like that for some time, calmed by the paths you drew on his feline body. His fur was denser than his hair. And he somehow felt less...invasive. Like he was actually just a cat that had sensed your frazzled mind.

When you kissed the top of his head, he knew you’d been released from that state—at least from the all-consuming intensity of it.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling.

His paws rested on your shoulders, his pleasure evident in how he nuzzled his head into your neck.

“Would you…Would you mind staying like this a bit longer?” you asked.

He answered by curling back up in your lap, looking at you expectantly.

You began your patterns again, both of you relaxing.

When the time came for Morpheus to go back to the Dreaming, his human form returned. And before his sand could whisk him away, you kissed him, deep and sure and grateful. And a promise to see each other soon.