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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

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

You look too good to feel this shitty.

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point.

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation.

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–”

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag.

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away.

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble.

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase?

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer.

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face.

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over.

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared.

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then…

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip.

"You okay? "

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter.

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice.

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit.

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside.

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile.

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost.

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it? A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus.

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here.

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man.

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid.

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic.

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds.

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head.

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask.

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask.

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat.

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer.

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him.

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all.

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between?

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass.

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low.

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side.

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat.

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently.

Quickly, he stops you.

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you.

"But soon?"

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist.

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason.

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline.

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately.

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork.

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak.

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor.

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions.

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions.

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless.

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more.

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock.

"Hey."

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful .

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath.

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.” He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain.

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips.

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts.

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe.

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours.

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips.

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration.

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely.

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair.

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly.

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock.

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away.

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care.

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart.

“We should.”

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair.

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands.

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare.

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches.

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?”

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #kat_writes😼

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year ago

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𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 ℌ𝔬𝔟𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔶

༺ 𝕱𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋 ༻

❦ Hobie is 10000% the boyfriend who kisses the insides of your wrist. Imagine smushing his cheeks together to tease him and he turns the tables by pressing gentle kisses to each pulse point

❦ Loves to send you selfies of the villains he beats up with goofy captions and him posing

❦ Introduces you to his friends at the pub, proudly showing you off

❦ Then proceeds to drunkenly ramble to said friends, arm tight around your shoulder with a protective hand over your drink

❦ Is an incredible cook when he wants to make something special for you, but otherwise makes low effort meals

❦ He loves to tickle your sides when he’s behind you. He comes over to you from behind under the guise of wanting a cuddle, but a devilish grin appears as he presses his long fingers into your sides, making you ugly chortle and shove him away

❦ Hobie would 10000% do the spiderman kiss with you

❦ Protective as FUCK but doesn't show it outwardly. Like, you’ll be walking down the street and some guy would cat call you, but Hobie doesn’t say anything. His grip on your shoulder gets tighter, and it’s not till he comes back past midnight with a bloodied lip do you feel pride flush your chest

❦ He lets you sit on his lap in bed as you do his eyeliner for his upcoming show. Gentle fingers rub against your hip as he looks at you with hooded eyes, letting you smudge his eyeliner. He looks at you with a charming grin, “thanks babe,” he’d say as he kisses you deeply

❦ Hobie lets you pick his nail polish colour and watches you delicately apply it to his nails. He thinks it's adorable when your tongue sticks out in concentration or when you nibble on your lip

❦ He invites the rest of the spidey squad to come to his dimension to play cards and other games, having you sat in his lap the entire time. If you’re playing poker or something, he nudges you in an attempt to silently communicate what he should pick. He gives you the occasional discreet kiss as Gwen cackles at Pav winning go fish over Miles

❦ Soft, classical music is NOT his style at all, so don't expect him to start playing Ed Sheeran on a regular guitar. If you struggle to fall asleep, he sets you on his tummy and makes patterns on your back based on the way his fingers would position themselves on his guitar

❦ He loves causing chaos with you, be it spray painting a Winston Churchill poster or statue of another bigot, or blasting his guitar near MPs houses, he loves it when you’re there, smiling happily with him

❦ DEFINITELY THE BF TO SMACK YOUR ASS. I SAID WHAT I SAID

❦ Doesn't have a set nickname for you, usually a play on your name or “luv”

❦ The type of bf who gets really invested in his S/O’s drama. Like you could be sat sipping tea, rambling about how this bitch tried to make you feel like shit and he’s just sat proudly like “oh yah? Then what’d you do babe?” With the dopiest ass look on his face

❦ Really stinking cute when drunk. Full on ambling into his flat, making you take care of him. Loves when you clean his piercings and rub off his eyeliner

❦ “Mf, thanks babe. Eyeliner makin’ it difficult to go to sleep,” he mumbles as you prop him upright on the bed. You roll your eyes fondly as you clean him up and start cleaning his piercings

❦ Thinks it's funny as fuck to make you smell his crust jacket. Punks are known to have jackets and not wash them to make them look as grunge as possible and Hobie is no different (bc fuck consistency)

༺𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙༻

ఌ Is really stand-offish at the start of your relationship. His dislike for labels put a strain on your relationship; he would kiss you and make you feel loved, and then rip your heart out by saying you’re just friends to his pub mates

ఌ Struggles to fully take things seriously. You could be arguing over something and Hobie would just smirk, making the anger boil over. He doesn’t do it to emasculate or intimidate you, he just thinks it’s cute when you’re so passionate. This has definitely caused some worse arguments and either of you storming out

ఌ Definitely struggles with time and dates. If you arrange a date and he’s Spider-Punkin’ that day, be prepared to walk home and cry after waiting so long that the owners of the restaurant have to gently nudge you away

ఌ It can be seen as angsty or horny, but if you’re trying to start a fight or fussing over him when he’s tired, he’s not above shooting his web at your mouth to shut you up

ఌ Is low-key petrified every time he can’t get hold of you if you’re apart. He doesn’t want your death to become another canon event for him, so days where his anxiety manifest into something way deeper, he keeps you either at arms length or doesn’t let you out of his sight

ఌ Can actually be really mean in arguments if pushed far enough. Man is all for communication, but days where his mental health is struggling are usually days where his temper is short. He does his best to communicate to you that he’s not doing great but is physically fine and just needs some time, but if you keep pushing then he knows where to hit deep. (This is so so incredibly rare though)

ఌ Unintentionally gives you the silent treatment after an argument. If you had a really bad fight and he is still trying to cool off, he is in no mood to talk to anyone. I may be projecting, but I imagine Hobie is the type of person to need to be completely left alone to cool off and gets really upset again if someone tries to ask. He always wants to answer your text but sometimes forgets

ఌ Doesn’t let on but sometimes he has really bad nightmares from his role as protector of London. Sometimes it’s you getting hurt and sometimes it’s him. Either way, he wakes up in cold sweats and immediately feels for you before sighing in relief.

“Hi sweetheart, are you alright? You kept making noises in your sleep,” you murmur to him. Hobie’s eyes fluttered slightly before sinking back under the duvet with a sigh.

“Ughhhh, yeah. ‘M fine babe, jus’ a stupid bad dream,” he mutters, throwing his arm around your waist and nuzzling into your chest. Your arm wrapped around his lean tummy and rubbed soft circles to the skin.

“D’you wanna talk about it hun? I’m here for you,” you whisper softly into his ear. Hobie thought for a minute before shaking his head.

“No thanks. Not now. Jus’ lemme hold ya,” he grunts sleepily. Your fingers found a steady rhythm against his back as you heard him sigh deeply into your neck.

“I love you so much Hobes. I’m always gonna be right here, waiting for you,” you promise him. Slender fingers intertwined with yours, the slight tremble being the only movement in your dark shared bedroom. Tender but firm kisses were placed along your neck in silent thanks as the two of you slip back into dreamless slumber.

༺𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙༻

༒ Is SUPER easy to turn on. The softest of praises is enough to turn his cock rock hard, but is also a major horn dog for being degraded 🤭🤭

༒ Gets SUPER horny when he catches you wearing his jewellery and jackets. He WILL fuck you right then and there

༒ He’s more of a grunter than a moaner, unless he’s quite deep in subspace. He’s definitely not above whimpering

༒ Hobie loves to send you videos of him wanking off, angled so you can see every lustful touch and hear every choked gasp

༒ A very versatile man. Doesn’t mind whether he’s domming or subbing, or even if there’s no dynamic

༒ Some of Hobie’s biggest kinks: edging, slight overstim, light impact play, light sensory deprivation and wax play

༒ If you’re female or someone without a peeny weeny, he would definitely take some good old cock up the ass <3 the male G spot is up there for a reason!

༒ He can often get lost in pleasure if he’s penetrating you, making his thighs shake as sweat drops and he’s biting into your shoulder like a man starved

༒ Definitely skilled with his fingers 😝😝 loves to finger you until you’re shaking and crying from overstim

༒ Is such a huge brat you wouldn’t believe 🤭🤭 he doesn’t deliberately say things to rile you up, but rather small displays. Rubbing his hands up your sides, murmuring soft teasings into your ears, lingering kisses right before a mission so you end up beating a villain with fire burning in your crotch

I absolutely adore this man, send asks and thots 🤭

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #Hobie x reader angst #hobie x reader fluff #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader

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marlynnofmany · 1 month ago

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One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#somebody wanted to see the guy's reaction #and I couldn't pass that up #there is one swear word in this story #it's not where you think #skunks #in spaaace #humans are weird #and so are our pets #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #my writing #The Token Human #and friends

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secretly-from-the80s · 3 months ago

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My outsiders head cannons because idk im bored (warning I’ll prolly misspell things!)

Darry:

1: When he was younger he used to play in the mud with Pony and soda and they would go back into the house and their mom would kick them out and would have to spray them down with a hose

2: (after the book) Darry and pony had gotten into a argument like brothers do and Darry Couldng handle it anymore and broke down in tears in front of both his brothers.

3: he has nightmares sometimes and they cause him to wake up in a panic and he would always have to check up on pony and soda to make sure they were okay

4: idk why some people like make him seem like a Facebook mom who likes minion memes and dad jokes. HES BARELY 20 YEARS OLD. He would probably say the most unfiltered ass shit in a group chat 😭

5: he gets those random urges to like kick or playfully hit pony or soda (I do that 😣)

6: ate rotten food once and work and got sick and his boss had to drive the boy home since he was so sick

7: will probably work himself till he makes himself sick like he Wont stop himself till someone stops him

8: hates seeming like a parent more then a older brother sometimes when the boys need reminders that Darry is still their brother Darry will start a game of tag and all the brothers will run around the house. (When they did that when their parents were alive they knocked down a special vase and they all got whooped)

9 : likes cats. He has a stray cat at work that he shares his lunch with he named it “kitty cat” sooooo creative righttt

10: doesn’t like ham (idk that just randomly appeared in my mind)

Extra: used to bite as a child and gags when those chunks of food in the sink hits his hands

Soda

1: stinks like car oil and pony will not allow him to get into the bed till he showers

2: likes grilled cheeses (me too bro)

3: he once caught Darry having a panic attack and didn’t really know what to do since he’s never really saw his brother like Cry like that so he was awkwardly comforting him😭

4: makes Radom sounds like with his mouth and it’s makes the others tweak

5: gets dates mixed up really easily

6: after Darry slapped pony, soda in a fit of like idk rage punched Darry square in the face.

7: WILL forget to clean under his fingernails.

8: Darry ate his food once and soda ignored him for the rest of the night. Anytime Darry Tried to talk to him soda would give him a snooty face and would cross his arms and say “mhmp”

9: cries when he watches dog movies (like all dogs go to heaven or a dogs purpose or a dogs way home)

10: has the most NASTIEST converse and refuses to clean them

Ponyboy

1: can only cook eggs he cannot cook anything else 😭

2: loves chocolate milk (I think that’s in the book)

3: tried Darry’s coffee once and almost threw up since it was so bitter

4: likes to race Darry since they were both in sports that involved a lot of running

5: stole one of Darry’s old sweatshirts and REFUSES to give it back. He loves that sweatshirt it’s like 2 sizes to big for him

6: (after the book) had a huge growth spurt after the book like it wasn’t even funny😭

7: since Darry and soda are such deep sleepers pony once drew like a “rocketship” and all those other things teenage boys draw he drew it on his brothers faces😣

8: chews his nails

9: has/had a crush on a soc girl and got teased by the gang relentlessly

10: (if it was like modern day idk) he would love headphones/airpods

Dallas

1: got chased by a dog and is forever traumatized from

2: would prolly stink like beer and sweat

3: bro can sleep through a tornado

4: bro prolly has the most greasiest hair

5: bro has a laugh that makes everyone else laugh

6: (before the Curtis parents died) dally finally made Darry sneak out with him and they ended up getting pulled up on by Mr Curtis and they both ended up getting in so much trouble 😭

7: made a your mom joke to the Curtis brothers and ended up getting jumped 😣

8: like those bland ass Cheerios

9: favorite fruit is cherries

10: bro will flip his underwear inside out and backwards since his nasty ass don’t wanna waste the time to wash the clothes

Steve

1: gets mad and when Darry doesn’t make chocolate cake 😣

2: bro will make himself at home at the Curtis house that couch practically as a ass imprint from him

3: likes strawberry shortcake (that’s his favorite dessert)

4: has so much beef with ponyboy they diss eachother anytime they get to

5: bro will HOG the bed if you share it with him

(Sorry his is kinda short 😣)

Two-bit

1: lost his Mickey Mouse shirt in the washer and thought he lost it forever

2: has a younger sister (protective brother)

3: knows how to braid hair

4: tried to recreate Darry’s infamous chocolate cake and he failed miserably 😭

5: he was really mad at Darry when pony ran away. When he found out he said straight in Darry’s face “good brother my ass.”

6: favorite Disney princess is belle (idk why I thought of that)

7: when he’s actually like serious the gang like tenses up a bit

8: knows all the drama from his younger sister he had beef with little kids he’s never even met

His lil sister: “yeah and Shelly and David are dating when she knew David was my crush and I told her too”

Two-bit: “I don’t like Shelly or David ��”

Johnny

1: (when the Curtis parents were alive) he once ran to the Curtis house after his father hit him super hard and Mrs Curtis took him in for the night giving him a hot meal and a warm shower and some clean clothes.

2: whenever he needs to crash somewhere he has a designated pallet that he sleeps on in the Curtis house

3: likes m&m popcorn

4: chews the side of his nails

5: can go days without eating

6: bro needs to wash that Jean jacket

(SORRY HIS IS SO SHORT)

#darry curtis #patrick swayze #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders #steve the outsiders #dallas winston #johnny cade

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hazbinshusk · 2 months ago

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Can I get a uhh…a Husk? With a side of..uhh…kiss prompt 19? For no other reason than that I think it’ll be a silly goofy time-

I won't lie - this one has been stumping me for a while because why would husk ever consent to being underwater? but I think I came up with a work around. so, here's...

prompt #19: a kiss underwater.

The growl that rips itself from Husk’s throat goes beyond his usual irritation, and your amused smile turns to a sympathetic pout as you set a stack of fresh, fluffy towels on the toilet seat. You turn to see him glowering down at himself, and you hurry forward when he makes move to grab at the fur of his chest.

“Hey, stop!” you urge him gently, catching hold of his wrist before his claws can tangle in the mess of sticky fur at the base of his throat. “Stop. You’re just going to end up ripping it out.”

Husk almost hisses under his breath, but he takes your point when you release his arm and a few tufts of fur come with it, glued to your palm. “Gonna fuckin’ kill Pentious.”

The corner of your lips twitches upward, and you reach up to take the hat from his head, his ears flicking briefly before returning to where he presses them back against his skull apprehensively. You don’t often see him without his hat, and you push back the desire to run your fingers through the hair he hides beneath it and set his hat on the edge of the sink.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you,” you say idly, moving past him and leaning into the shower stall to turn the shower on. It groans for a second before a steaming spray fills the stall. “But Charlie might have a few issues with it.”

“She can kiss my ass, too.” he grumbles, and you smile sympathetically. Pentious’ latest invention had an… explosive side effect, coating those of you who had been patronising the bar in a sticky, foul-smelling goop that was apparently the closest thing Hell had to rubber cement when it came in contact with fur. Angel had been so pissed that his hair was ruined that he’d actually forgone any suggestions of soaping up Husk, storming upstairs and shouting to the ceiling about a bath.

Husk had looked ready to commit murder, but you’d managed to haul him upstairs while Sir Pentious slithered around barking at his eggs about mismeasuring whatever chemicals he’d tossed in that damned thing.

Now, the cat stands fuming in your bathroom – with the reasoning that you have far more in the way of soaps and shampoos at your disposal – and despite his fury, he still manages to blush when you pull your shirt off over your head.

“Doll,” he coughs, casting his eyes to the floor. “I can—”

“Look, this stuff really stinks,” you say, grimacing apologetically. Still, you force yourself to keep your voice casual and matter-of-fact as you unzip your jeans. “And I’m just going to say it – it’s going to take both of us to get all that crap out of your fur. So… keep your pants on, I’ll keep these on—” you gesture down at your bra and underwear, sparing a second to silently thank whoever is listening that you at least wore a nice set today – “And we’ll get… get you out of the shower a hell of a lot quicker. Okay?”

Husk swallows heavily before nodding. “Fine. Jus’… let’s get this shit off’a me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Between the heat of the water and the flush you can feel burning through your body at being soaking wet and near naked next so close to Husk… it’s a miracle you haven’t passed out. You swear, the only thing keeping your mind on the task at hand is just how miserable the bartender looks.

His fur is soaked and weighed down by the water, leaving him utterly bedraggled. He stands frozen under the spray, soft groans occasionally escaping him as you scrub soap gently over his chest. In an attempt to keep his wings as dry as possible, Husk is standing by the open door of the shower stall, caging you in against the wall. The stench of the goop is receding, replaced by the fragrance of bergamot and rose from your shampoo. His eyes are closed, his lips parted, and you jump, startled, as you feel his claws brush over your hips.

Husk takes hold of them tentatively, and despite the heat, you realize he’s trembling.

“Husk?” you ask gently, stilling your hands. His stomach twitches under your touch, but you feel his hands tighten on your hips when you move to draw away. “You okay?”

He nods, swallowing. “Yeah, baby, I jus’… I hate this.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown, fingers curling against his stomach despite yourself. “But I’m… I’ve almost got it all out, and then I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself. I- I know you don’t like—”

“’s not it,” Husk shakes his head, water dripping from his muzzle. “Shit, I—that’s not what I meant. It’s the fuckin’… the water. An’ everythin’ smells like you in here and it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy.”

Biting your lip as you take in his words, you slowly flatten your palm against his stomach again experimentally, and Husk exhales a curse under his breath as your fingers card through his fur to graze the skin beneath. His claws squeeze reflexively on your hips, thumbs catching in the waistband of your underwear. It’s brief, but the gesture makes your heart thrum heavily against your ribs.

Still, you try for humour in an attempt to ease the sudden tension you’re feeling. “I know it’s not your… usual scent, but…”

“’s fuckin’ intoxicatin’.” Husk tells you, his voice rough, barely audible over the pounding water. Still, it’s all you find yourself able to hear. “You’re intox… fuck…”

He basically moans, and the sound goes straight between your legs.

“And… and now you’re half-naked and you’re touchin’ me and it feels so…” he groans, letting his head fall back. “And I’m standin’ in front of ya, tryin’ not to fuck it up, an’ all I can think about is that I look like a goddamn drowned rat.”

You smile even while your stomach flips at his words, a soft laugh slipping out between your lips. You reach up to tilt his face back down towards yours, taking the time to carefully push and brush fur away from his face so you can see him properly. He watches you with wide pupils as you do, a kind of guarded surprise burning behind them.

His ear twitches as you tuck his fur away from his eyes, and you dare to let your fingertips ghost along the edge of it. It flicks automatically and your smile widens. Husk lets out a sound something like a quiet ‘mew’ in response, his muzzle stained with pink.

“Not so much a wet rat,” you tell him, smoothing your fingers along his muzzle carefully to cup his cheeks. “But maybe I could take your mind off it?”

Husk swallows, and you can feel the tips of his claws against the small of your back. “How’re –”

You lean up on your toes and bring his mouth down to yours. Husk’s breath catches against your lips as you kiss him, a gasp of surprise that melts into a soft, soft moan that sends a shiver along your spine that has nothing to do with the water cooling on your skin. His hands tighten on your hips, slide up to your waist, his touch tickling against your ribs as you lean into him. His fur sticks uncomfortably to your palms but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything other than that you’re kissing him.

When you pull away, Husk blinks back at you slowly, that surprise still etched on his features. But there’s a soft, warm smile there, too.

You clear your throat, smiling back at him bashfully. “Did it… did it work?”

Husk exhales, the breath both disbelieving and amused.

“Good.” you reach back to tilt the shower head to wash away the bubbles still clinging to some of his fur. “So… what do you say we finish washing up, spend some quality time with my hairdryer and… every towel in this wing of the hotel, and, uh…” you bite your lip, smile widening. “We see just how soft that fur of yours gets now that it’s had some quality time with my conditioner.”

Husk chuckles, his wings fluttering behind him as the last of the soap flows down into the drain. “I think I’d like that.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

#husk x reader #husk fic #husk #my fic #husk hazbin hotel #husk fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #husk fanfiction #hazbin husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #tr-ig-ge-re-d

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guillotine-drop · 8 months ago

Text

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

#yeah dude #postal #postal dude #postal redux #postal 2 #postal 3 #postal 4 #postal brain damaged #poostall royale #postal movie #eternal damnation #corkscrew rules #hatred #I stand by most of these. your guess as to which one(s) is the outlier

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life-of-a-rat · 1 year ago

Text

TMA reverse time travel AU masterlist

PAGES:

part one

part two

EXTRA COMICS:

this is definitely what eldritch powers are for, right?

jon's bad at his job

fixing the "family photo"

REQUESTS:

world explanation (still unsure on this one)

tim and jon beat up clowns

"he's so hot"

past martin takes jmart notes

martin escapes

sasha and jon talk, jon fucks up

helen comes over for tea

past martin cant handle sasha's stink eye

you're cringe

martins buys an ungodly amount of anti-fogging spray

very rare angst (+silly mini-comics and speedpaint)

oh no, this isn't a dream

the jmart household is helens sitcom (+sashsa doodle)

tim reads his obituary

how did jon manage to get shorter in the future???

jon knife cat

archive crew self care day

are you crying??!!??

past martin tries to figure out how to enter the lonely

Jon accidently compels s1 Martin

Tim and Jon beat up clowns pt 2

where did you get that scar?

RANDOM:

character reference sheets

my art process

i just keep drawing the same face

also here's the link for an absolutely kickass fic for this AU, made by mageless :]

+my fanart of it, panel detail

#tma reverse time travel au #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma #tma podcast #tma au #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

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thatoneguydownthestreet · 2 years ago

Note

I have no clue if your taking requests so ignore this if you not

But if you are... hear me out housewardens (manly leona) try and get apocalypse y/n into a bath

I say this because in your hc ut says leona throws up when they first met. So yeah

Ao3 is down and i’m pissed. also here's some music

FEM ALIGNED PLEASE DNI

Dorms make you take a damn bath.

Riddle Rosehearts:

you were, for some ungodly reason, confused on why his face looks like someone force fed him sixteen lemons in a row whenever your around

well, my stupid student, that’s because you, yes you, smell like dog shit

old, cold, fermented dog shit that was left out in the rain

in other words: you stink

and riddle is loosing his damn mind over it

how does one go about telling this to their friend?

in a polite manner?

because he caN’t jUsT teLl yoU

so he tries to drop little hints

Tries

just small things at first

Just a little air freshener tree that you get at the carwash here and there

you find a mysterious perfume bottle on your night stand after Duece spent the night at Ramshackle

look! it smells like cherries!

too bad you didn’t trust it at all!

oh and look at this, an expensive cologne bottle that smells like sandelwood? isn’t that just plesent? Isn't it nice?

welp, it’s not yours! better put it back where you found it, someone's probably losing their shit looking for it

Riddle is now getting a bit desperate here

just a tad

Just a tad bit desperate

...anything can help right?

he makes Cater drop off a change of clothes for you. just some of the spare clothes that weren’t exactly his dorm uniform, that for some reason, he found laying around.

he’d have to have a little “chat” about that later with his dorm

He also kindly requested that Cater steal some of your clothes so he could wash them for once

(he was being quite literal on the “for once” part. those things smelled like they’ve never touched an ounce of detergent since you got them from crowly)

unfortuanatly, you are way too observant for your own good, and catch onto shit way too fast for his liking (or anyones liking) and quickly became suspicious about your missing clothes that miraculous reappeared in your drawers smelling...different

Riddle started feeling a little guilty for this after you locked yourself in your room for three days, and then came back out looking absolutely exhausted, checking over your shoulder like you had when you first got here

(Cater could have sworn he saw lilia looking at him with a dead stare out of the corner of his eye every time he went to club. Kalim said he was probably imagining it.)

Soon enough, operation mystery laundry was void

Meaning, your clothes returned to smelling like shit

And you...well, you never really stopped

.....ok.

Ok. He can work around this.

Hahahaha....Hahaha...ha....fuck

If ace trappola looks at you one day, says he's sorry, and then takes out a can of frebreez air freshener and sprays away, don't question shit, perfect

You brought this on yourself

But you of course, act like a cat being chased with a spray bottle, and run away

It for real takes trey to be the only responsible adult (NRC is an actual college and they're all adults fight me) in the entire goddamn campus to actually walk up to you and tell you you smell like ass

You then have a conversation about the rarity of clean water in you world

That conversation causes trey to come back to heartslabyul, take a metal bucket, fill it with clean, clear water, and then promptly dump it on you

And then he refills it with soapy water

That's right folks!

He's washing you, and your clothes!

Somewhere in the background, an NPC sees this and goes to notify riddle of the weird shit happening in the kitchens

Riddle doesn't know how to feel about this

He's definitely not happy but...he ain't mad about it either

He just makes an unfortunate NPC grab some towels for you

You didn't really know how to use the towels

Is it a blanket? No?

Your supposed to get it wet....

??huh?

Later that night, one Cater Diamond will whip out a PowerPoint presentation has been sitting in his computer for an undisclosed amout if time, explaining what a bath is

Everyone will thank him the next day for it

Ace still has the frebreez bottle btw, it's now used discreetly in alchemy class for whenever he and duece fuck up a potion

Leona Kingscholar:

Oh boy here we go

The cat man has gone from simply laying around in the [thingy] gardens to straight up rolling around in the plants to mask your smell just enough to not hurl on ground the second he sees you

this works 70% of the time

The other 30% is between him, ruggie, and the bathrooms

And once he realizes Jack howl hangs our with you on a regular basis?

Well, let's just say said dog boy is a little confused on why he's suddenly getting so much respect from his dorm members

Anyways, you leona doesn't really do anything about it at first.

You don't come by savanaclaw that much and your paths don't naturally cross too often, so doing something about the absolute toxic waste smell mixed with a half rotting animal carcass doesn't really have much...appeal to it

That was until this moment

Because you, my adorable little shit stain, were now in his PE class

PE class.

The class where everyone gets sweaty and smelly anyway

The only class that happened outside, you know, where his nose is just a little more sensitive because of the wind?

Yeah? That class

....great sevens help him

There are no pleasant smelling flowers in the fliedhouse. There is no access to any type of perfumes in the flied house because there are no pomefiore students out here

Ah shit, look at him, wishing for a pomefiore student

Never thought that one would happen

Anyways, kalim will later question leona about why he's been staying so close to him during PE recently

Because you are constantly bathed in inscents and spices kalim. inscents and spices

You are quickly deemed to jack work

Yeah, no way in hell is he dealing with this by himself, and ruggie isn't either, leona kind of need him alive to do his laundry (and provide the occasional comedic relief for whenever his brain decides it hates him a little more that day)

Now, jack is a lot of things

And he's usually prepared for whatever bullshit his dormmates and friends throw at him

But this...

Um. Perfect. Bro. Can you...can you perhaps not smell yourself?

Because he can

Everyone can. Actually

His approach is thankfully more quick than riddles

But he still tries to do it the polite way first

Leaving some cacti and succulents that had flowered early in your dorm room from time to time

They ultimately did nothing on their own, which is why he made epel politely convinced vil to put a little scenting spell on them

....it kind of works?

Congratulations Y/N. You now smell like shit with flowers on top

Which is arguably worse, but leona and literary EVERYONE ELSE will take what they can get

....

And then there's ruggie

He doesn't know when or why it happened, but he thinks it had something to do with the way you always seemed to marval at the water

He didn't eat in the cafeteria often, usually just eating on the go or whenever he found the time

But he still needed to get in there everyday for a certain spoiled prince

So...he saw you there sometimes

...and he saw your face when you looked at the water everyone else was drinking

You had stopped wearing that weird mask a long time ago (ruggie could vaguely remember leonas shoulders dropping the slightest bit when he told him....he wonders why that was sometimes)

The day you had taken it off was certainly...an event

But it turned out to be a good thing in the end, because seeing your face and what you were feeling was so much easier

And it let him see that painfully familiar face of disbelief and envy so much earlier

He knew those faces for a good reason. They'd been his after all, once upon a time

....he shouldn't do this

...

....he really shouldn't do this

....

When ruggie was nine years old, he saw a dead man just behind the old, half dried up waterhole that his ancestors ancestors used to gather water from

He had died from a disease that had made its way into their water supply

He remembered coming down with a bad fever shortly after and despite the dry heat of the desert, ruggie bucchi had never felt so cold

The old king of sunset savanna, leona kingscholars late father, had sent in doctor's and scientists and a years worth of clean water for his village only a few months later

Too bad they didn't come earlier...

It would've save a couple body bags

He hoped, oh great seven he'd hoped, that no one else dear to him had ever had to live that particular part if his life

...

...too bad nothing ever likes going his way

Your water didn't deserve to be called water, to have the glory and credit of the ever precious resource that allowed life itself

Because your water, wasn't water

It was poison

It's was a sickly brown, sometimes green, sometimes black, poison

And it was everywhere in the tunnels, you had said

"When I was little, I was playing around in an old abandoned army tank-"

("a what?" "Don't worry about it")

"-and...well, I guess we played a little too hard, because I got cut. Just a small scrape on my knee really..."

"But...it was enough for the water to make its way into my blood"

"...one of the medics. A man named Abdul? Yes. Abdul. He was able to bleed me just enough before it made its way in too deep"

"But still...the days after."

"I had never felt so...so.."

"...cold?", his voice came out in a whimper. It was barely a whisper

And he swore he felt his heart break a little when you shook your head with a sad smile

"Freezing"

....

A few things changed after that

It turns out, washing wounds with clean water and soap was a good way to treat wounds

Even the small ones!

"And it keeps you healthy! You won't get sick as easily as before!"

Ruggie didn't know exactly how to feel about the way your eyes sparkled at that

Azul Ashengrotto:

You must be out of your God damn mind if you think your even allowed in the lounge

Sorry perfect, but Azul has a business to run and patrons to keep happy, and you, my dear boy, do not currently spark joy

You smell like the trash that would sometimes wind up in the sea, despite it being illegal to dump your shit in the sea but whatever

He didn't like that you smelled so much like home

...but also not like home

The smell of the ocean on you was undeniable, but...you also smelled. Toxic

And he, for the life of him, just couldn't figure out why

He's not totally sure he wanted to figure out why

Something had clicked for jade a while back, that he was atleast semi-certain of

It was hard not to be, really

After all, he had never seen a look of horror that had crossed his vice wardens face quite like that before

He could still catch him looking at you in the halls, looking like he wanted to go right up to you and confirm whatever suspicions he had

But he never did...

Maybe it was because you weren't really close

Or maybe it was because you smelled terrible

Nah but seriously perfect, you act like the perfect gentleman when your not on survival mode, so why can't you just attempt to smell nice?

One shower ☝️ just- just one!

Please!

Here! Hell lend you some of this cologne too! It's expensive and it smells very pleasant if he says so himsel- wait- perfect- where the fuck are you going?

You were later found on the ceiling by lilia

....

How did you even..?

Whatever.

He's not wasting his time thinking about this right now

He has a restaurant to open! People to manage! A Floyd leech to control! And a fire cat to-

....

.......

Ya'know what? Jade wanted to talk to you anyways

This is his problem now

Floyd should be enough to keep the costumers and employees in line while he's making contracts in the back right?

Right

So when you open the dorm to Ramshakle and see one jade leech carrying a terrified grim in his arms, you better not complain about a damn thing Y/N

...

Anyways, you and jade are having some tea

You got it from kalim! It's the most expensive thing in the whole dorm!

Jade had a friendly smile on his face while he watched you make it

Why was he so focused on how much sugar you put in though?

..whatever man.

He took his midly sweet with two cubes of sugar and you took a strange satisfaction in watching his face go from friendly to horrified disbelief as he watched you dump about half the damn sugar from the container into yours

You still hadnt said anything

...

It was getting a little awkward. He was watching you drink your tea like a hawk

He lowkey looked concerned for your health

And sanity. Probably. Yeah

"So uh. Perfect?"

Oh?

"Hm?"

"May i ask a question?"

"What type of question?"

"A possibly deeply personal one"

There was a pause.

"...Well you can ask"

"Ah...so. you said you lived next to the ocean?"

You probably shouldn't have brightened at the mention of that...wretched place

....but it was still you home

And people will miss there home like people do

"Yes. Although I could never really go out to the surface by myself, so I never really got to see the sun rise over the horizon..i never got to see the sun at all actually"

He looked...

You couldn't really name how he looked

"Oh."

"..."

"So. This question. Did you...was the water. What was the water like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what color was it"

"It water that ran through the tunnels closest to the shore line always looked very...dark I guess? But now because of the lighting, some of the water itself was straight up black"

Jade wasn't smiling anymore.

"The elders had to boil it at least five times over before it was safe to drink"

No. Jade wasn't smiling at all.

"I see."

"So I'm guessing you didn't exactly waste any water to bathe?"

You tilted you head to the side in confusion

"Um. No?"

"...well that explains a couple things"

Two hours later, you were dressed down to your boxers and a T-shirt, and being thrown in a tub full of foamy water

It smelled rather pleasant

The water was warm. Was it freshly boiled?

Yeah. Probably.

...

Thos felt. Nice.

Jade picked up a rectangular shaped bottle and squirted a liquid in his hands. It reminded you if that laundry detergent you saw ruggie using to wash leonas clothes

Oh.

It was soap?

You felt long slender finders work it's way into your hair

...

"Tilt your head back for me please"

You did as requested

When had you closed your eyes?

The sound of gentle splashing and the feeling of your hair getting wet ... shouldn't have been this relaxing

The texture of the soap felt different somehow. Less liquid and more foam

It was nice.

Jade had excused himself after washing your hair. Explaining what to do with your body and the surrounding soaps and this weird fluffy thing called a luffa

And the next day, you passed a certain azul ashengrotto

Who then took the most violent double take you've ever seen

Also Floyd was staring at you. And then at jade. And then at you.

And then back at jade.

....uh.

Yes.

Azul stared for a few more seconds.

And then he sighed.

Ok. So you smelled uncannily like jade.

He did not want to think about how that happened but ok.

You didn't smell like burning garbage that was then put out in contaminated water

And that was really all he could ask for at this point.

Kalim al-asim and my bbg. Mostly my bbg

Jamil has to wave an incense stick around you before you go into the dorm

Nah but fr bro was fighting for his life in chapter 4

You could almost hear him replaying "I need him for the plan I need him for the plan I need him for the plan" over and over again in his head like a mantra

There was a cry of relief when he flung your ass to to desert

And now kalim has to deal with you

Bro is crying and in desperate need of comfort and he pulls away when you hug him 💀

Floyd will laugh at this

you will be sad and confused

And Floyd will laugh harder

Kalim is fucking struggling not to grimace when you get too close to him and you just don't know why

It's because you smell like shit and Jamil didn't wave around the vanilla lavender smoke stick around you to slightly 🤏 mask that scent

BUT ITS NOT LIKE YOU KNOW THAT LOSER LMAO

There was a random gust of wind in the desert one night and you scent drifted over to Floyd

He doubled over coughing

He did this for a good three minutes

Jade was hovering over his shoulder with water waiting for him to throw up

I hope this puts it into perspective of how foul you will smell after only having a bath about twice a year

Yesh, no wonder all your childhood friends are dead

Kalim is trying his best to make sure you and everyone else are alright without getting too close to you

It's precious really

Nah but he is just so close to using oasis maker on you and you alone

But there ain't really any soap 'round these parts so you will smell worse than a wet dog if he does that

So he doesnt

Begrudgingly

Jade thanks him for this

Jamil nearly cries when you come back

These are not tears of joy

You nearly make him stop the fight to go get you a bath

Help him he's having flashbacks of that awkward time in his life where he had to get kalims baths ready for him every night

And when the battle is over?

Jamil is spending an extra two days in that infirmary

He was already considering it because of kalim but you were just the fucking cherry weren't you?

Meanwhile, the world's perfume companies is a little concerned with how much perfume and scented oils are suddenly going out of stock

And you, you fucking dog, are concerned about the people trying to drag you to scarbia and start spraying you with some weird, good smelling liquid

...

They brought back a memory you didn't want to bring back

Two injured scarabia students and one paranoid Ramshakle perfect later, jamil finally snapped

He kindly let you know you smelled like a human rights violation and told you that you needed a bath more than he needed a will to live

...

Why were you being so quite? Were you feeling shame? If you were feeling shame then it was about dam ti-

"What did they spray me with"

"...I'm guessing a variety of perfume"

"...perfumes.?"

You looked confused

And. A little horrified?

Uh.

"Yes. Perfumes"

Was it just him or was it getting a little hot in here?

In, you know, the desert

"But those werent....is everyone at this school an aristocrat?"

...blink

"No?"

"Then why did those two have perfume?"

Blink. Blink.

"...perfect"

"Perfumes are. Perfectly accessible to the public"

Damn shawty, you're entirely reality really loves crashing down on you huh?

You spaced out almost immediately after that, and Jamil led you to the showers, much more gently than he was planning on before

....

He didn't like how he felt his stomach start to drop when you froze up at the clean, hot water coming out of the shower head

Vil Shoenheit

There really ain't much to say here

Easily the most blunt

Yeah, you're not getting anywhere near him if you smell like that

Sorry not sorry, it's not happening

Gets it done immediately

Has you taken the the bathroom and rook explains what a shower is and how often you have to take one

And that it basically

Man's wasted no time and now you have a thirty step skin care routine. Congratulations.

Idia shroud:

....

We're you expecting this man to be around enough to actually smell you?

Nah

Nah, yall meet online or through his floating tablet and that is it

....and then there's boardgame club

He invited you once

He quickly realized and regretted his mistake the second you walked into the room

Ortho reminds him that he too, smells like shit most of the time

It does little to subdue him

But it does make him have a small pang of guilt and the shame that comes with hypocrisy every time he talks shit in his head

He tells one person about this as a sort of dollar store therapy session

And that person is his gaming partner

And- damn bro, you got one of these foul smelling bitches too?

So this is a common phenomenon?

I guess?

Yeah, don't plan on interacting with him in person until you figure out how to use a damn shower

Your on tablet treatment

But you still need to log into WoW when he and the hot-pink emo need you

You're surprisingly pretty good? Actually?

I mean, you certainly know your survival tactics

Including some shit he's never really bothered to think about

Tf do you mean make a grenade out of a tin can? Wtf is a grenade in the first place?

Anyways, idia has some new weapons in the inventory

But uh...perfect?

Sometimes the shit that you day is....concerning

Especially around water sources

"This is all water?"

"...yes?"

"And it hasn't been drained? It's not that we'll hidden. There's no way that the upper counsle hasn't found it yet"

"..."

"Huh?"

Idia would like to blame the VR for making you forget this is a video game

But yeah he's got some questions

And lucky for him! He is severely sleep deprived and lacking his usual "just apply common sense" mentality!

So again! Questions

First if all, was water rare where....ever your from?

(Water wasn't rare exactly, you guys in the tunnels just...weren't aloud to have it)

Well what the hell were "the tunnles?"

He didn't ask that one though, he was more focused on the water.

Questions for another day

What's the upper counsle?

(you stayed silent for a long minyte after that, only replying in a non-answer that you really hated the upper counsle)

How are you still alive if you don't have water?

"Well...I'm not really alive anymore..."

What?

"But before! Before that I lived in a base that was close to the ocean, and water would sometimes flow in"

I'm sorry, idia feels like you've just brushed over something more important

"So we'd collect as much as we could and boil it! It'd have to be boiled and filtered at least five times before it even go to some semblance of clean... so there really wasn't a whole lot to divide amongst the people down there afterwards"

Oh so we're. We're just gonna move right on past that. Ok then.

"Wait so. Have you ever had a shower?"

"Whenever we have enough water I guess? But those are mainly for the children and the sick ones"

.......ahhhhh

"Ok. Well. I'm gonna tell you what a shower is, and you are going to take one immediately"

"..ok?"

So now he's here, buying more soap than he would need to last a dozen lifetimes

How did his life cough ever come to this?

...and seriously. What the hell did you mean when you basically told him that you were a dead man walking?

Malleus draconia:

Met you in your little gas mask, assassination, survival island phase

And you met some big ass horn man who popped out from a bunch of little....light bugs

And uh...uh.

Let's just say having a dull, poorly made knife thrown straight at you wasn't really the best first impression

Mother fucker was about to smite you down where you stood until you asked who tf he was

Then he paused

...oh damn

This little human boy doesn't know shit huh?

Dam-.....

What smells?

Bro starts sniffing the air like a fuckin dog

Now, malleus could say he had a relatively strong nose

He was a dragon fae who had lived for hundreds of years after all, he could memorize scents and pick things out in them

Like he could pick out the chemicals and pollution and death in yours

He takes two steps back

And then one step forward because he's confused

What.....what the fuck?

Uhhhh....you won't mind if he just...

Over the course of several days, you gradually smell better

Just enough to be bearable

Leona on his knees thanking some ancient God he don't believe in fr

You also get a strong craving for water

Not to drink it necessarily, but to just. Be in it.

You're also finding yourself in the Ramshakle bathrooms more often than not and you can't figure out why

Like now, when you sitting in the bathtub

....

What does this nob do?

Oh shit, you just got water everywhere.

....you just got water.....everywhere

Clean water.

Hot. Water.

....

...you're really in another world aren't you?

____________________

This has been sitting in my drafts for like a week now holy shit💀

Ok. Time to work on some other shit now. I'm like half way done with the first chapter of The Doves Called The Day You Came Home so that's nice ig

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katblaze · 5 months ago

Text

Richie Lipschitz headcanons because I can and no one is able to restrain me in time.

I might draw some of these in the future, feel free to steal all of these ideas for your own art

More under cut

~~~

He picks his lips and usually has a lot of dead skin on them

He stands up at his desk while taking tests/doing team projects

He wears headphones whenever he doesn't want to put his hair up with gel

He goes to a lot of cons

He has embarrassing dirt on Paul (his uncle/caretaker) that he uses to get him to watch anime

Plays super smash bros with all the nerds (main is falco? ((Emma and Richies shit talking game goes hard))

Has LED lights lining his room which almost exclusively stays blue or red

He wears fingerless gloves he bought from amazon for a cosplay out casually

Has a collection of funko pops (keeps them in the box), legos, and pokemon

Really insecure about his appearance (dysphoria?)

Blue hair and pronouns (trans ftm)

He picks at his skin/pimples

He wore fake glasses as a kid cause he thought it was cool

Halloween is his favorite holiday

Really into minecraft as a kid

Shops at hottopic often (refuses to take Ruth into spencers)

He mostly draws comics of really muscly men, robots, and women with wonky proportions

Big white chocolate enjoyer

He jumps up and down when excited

Music taste is midwest emo and vocaloid

Furry. Secretly? (Ruth knows ((probably Paul too but he doesn't really understand))

He wore a fake cat tail to school as a kid (licked his rist like a cat)

Really into the warrior cats series

Owns a collection of long funky socks (mostly anime related)

Only ever had turtles/fish but wants other pets

He itches himself as a stim/when he's overstimulated

Doesn't like to shower often because it's overstimulating/exhausting

Has to put shoe fresheners in his sneakers cause they stink

Wants piercing(s) pretty badly

Used to bring stim toys to school before almost all of them got lost or broken by Max

Uses axe body spray 💪

Back pain due to the worlds worst slouch

Twitter user and discord mod

Eats ramen religiously

He's the love of my life /hj

#I've watched the whole hatchetfield series in the last two weeks #I'm normal about it #I've never done one of these before #It's somewhat projection mostly vibes #richie lipschitz #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #Also he has autism I think that was made clear #Trying to do less obv stuff #I've never watched anime so that might help #(sorry supernatural followers love you mwa)#paul matthews #mine

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skepsiss · 1 year ago

Text

His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone.

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was.

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return.

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion.

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember.

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life.

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good.

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered.

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself.

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction.

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided.

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people.

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all.

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends.

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2

#I want to snuggle and hold this weird little monster Eddie #he really sounds so fucking adorable to me #Eddie munson #stranger things au #my_writing #eddie month #Eddiemonth #Stranger things #Stranger Things Fic #stranger things fanfic #also I'll pledge my soul to whoever draws Eddie with acrylic nails

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thorinoakenbutt · 3 months ago

Text

As the Moth Sees Light

Anders x Hawke Also includes Varric, Carver, and Aveline SFW, pre-relationship, meet cute

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

“Maker’s Balls, and I thought Uncle’s house smelled bad.”

A sound halfway between a snort and scoff answered Hawke as she bent to pull her dagger free of the corpse with a sickening squelch. Straightening, she twirled the blade in a tight circle, only just managing to resist the temptation to wipe its bloody edge on the sleeve of her father’s old coat. A quick glance down at herself confirmed that the worst of the arterial spray from the poor, dumb sod had missed her. Good. One less argument to have with Carver later that night while she did the washing in the tiny room they shared. Maker forbid she get blood on her clothing, as though she hadn’t spent the last fourteen years having to do that exact task on a near monthly basis.

“Must be behind on my payments,” Varric muttered beneath his breath, nudging the Coterie thug with his boot. Another half dozen bodies littered the ground behind them, half of which were skewered with crossbow bolts. Hawke had to hand it to the dwarf - he and Bianca were handy in a fight. Without their addition, she likely would have had to find a dank corner of the already dank sewers in order to use her magic to heal their wounds.

“Are we certain that that Lirene woman isn’t giving us the run-around?” she asked idly, glancing back at her brother and Aveline. Carver hovered close to her, his familiar, grouchy presence at her back providing a comfort she could never voice aloud. He had a smear of blood on his cheek that she had to bite down the urge to lick her thumb and smudge away. He’d always hated her fussing, even when they were children. At least it didn’t look like the blood belonged to him. “I know that Grey Wardens like to while away their hours in the Deep Roads, but surely even those don’t reek this much.”

“Even with the taint?” Aveline scoffed, expression pinched. She lingered at the rear of their party, protective as always, with her hand resting on the pommel of her sword in a white-knuckled grip. The end of their scuffle with the Coterie didn’t put her at ease, gaze shifting quickly around the cistern’s passageways for other threats. The shadow that flitted across her face as she spoke sent a dagger of guilt twinging through Hawke as she remembered the good Ser Wesley.

The one who threatened to drag the Hawke sisters before the templars for the crime of apostasy. Lips quirking into a wry smile, she shoved the feeling deep down into the mental box where she kept every other troublesome emotion. He was dead, and Bethany was dead, and now her priority was ensuring Carver and their mother had a roof over their heads. Preferably one nicer than their uncle’s.

As they turned a corner, Hawke hop-skipped over the legs of yet another corpse - or perhaps this one was simply sleeping, judging by the snoring - whose legs jutted out into the walkway from an alcove. Varric walked in step with her, drumming his fingers in an off-beat rhythm against Bianca’s wooden stock. He was the only one of them that looked more or less at home in the sewers. His ambling gait brought to mind a casual stroll through Hightown’s Garden rather than the crime-riddled shithole they waded through. “Stink or not, this would be as good a place as any for a mage to hide,” he mused, eyeing the way Hawke sashayed down a flight of stairs in time with his tapping.

“You hear that, Cat? Maybe you should move down here,” Carver teased, lightly kicking the back of her knee as she reached the bottom step. He laughed when it buckled beneath her, though his hand shot out to catch her elbow before she could pitch face first into the dirt.

“Ha, you’re hilarious,” Hawke deadpanned, shoving her dagger back into its sheath before she could decide in favor of ‘accidentally’ letting it ‘drop’ straight into her baby brother’s thigh. The little voice in her head that precluded every bad decision she’d ever made tried to reason with her that it wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t heal herself. Probably. They were meeting with a magical healer, anyway. Hopefully.

They came to a second set of stairs that she took three at a time, bounding up them with renewed energy. A door was set into the wall with a conspicuously lit lantern, just as Lirene had promised. A crowd of refugees gathered around the door in a loose circle, most of them with varying degrees of injuries or illness. Coming to a half, Hawke chewed her lip and considered how best to proceed.

“Where there’s injured members of the Carta and sick children standing in a queue without it devolving into a brawl, there must be a healer,” she whispered to her companions. Drawing the still wet dagger back from its sheath, she approached her brother. “Quick, Carver - look pathetic.”

He scowled down at her, eyeing the blade warily. “What? Why can’t you play the damsel for once?” Hawke ignored him, plucking the leather away from his skin to stab a hole through it without risk of harming him. Then she smeared the blood down his front, frowning thoughtfully at the end result. It didn’t look bad. Perhaps the dim light filtering through Darktown would hide just how fake it was. Carver hissed angrily at her, but no matter. She’d stitch it together again later in lieu of an apology.

“Because,” she explained, patting his chest in a pantomime of comfort. His already impressive glower deepened and she huffed. “Listen. When a big, strong man like you goes down, you know it’s bad. They’ll let us through.”

Carver rolled his eyes, placing his hand on her shoulder to shove her away. “Carver,” she whined, drawing his attention back down to her. She pouted, unafraid to pull out all the stops. Add a little quiver to her lip, some mistiness to her eyes, and… “Please?”

He wavered. The stubborn set to his jaw loosened before he clenched his teeth again. Hawke let a single tear roll down her cheek, internally exulting when he sighed in certain defeat. All but collapsing against her, Carver moaned as if in pain for good measure. She wasn’t the only good actor in the family. Varric joined them, drawing Carver’s arm across his broad shoulders for support, leaving Aveline to watch them in reproachful judgment at the lie.

“Out of the way! The kid needs a healer!” Varric bellowed. Dozens of eyes landed on them at the commotion and Carver let his head loll forward, playing the part to perfection. The crowd parted, faces drawn with worry as they rushed by. Aveline darted ahead of them, propping the door open with her hip as she glanced back to ensure no one moved to stop them.

The door shut behind them, blocking out the cacophony of Darktown with a thud. Hawke surveyed the interior with interest, breathing deep of the scent of magic and herbs that lingered heavily in the air. It was strangely homey, in a dirty kind of way, strangely reminding her of their father. Fighting back the wave of homesickness, her eyes were drawn to the hunched back of the man who could only be the healer as he bent over the prone form of a child lying on a table.

His hands wove creation magic like he was born to it, drawing the healing energies into the boy as naturally as breathing. There was a bone-deep weariness in the slope of his shoulders and that made something inside of her ache. Hawke bit her lip hard enough to feel the skin split, the copper tang against her tongue providing enough of a distraction to strengthen her resolve to do something. She’d march straight back to Lirene’s shop once their business was finished to donate some of her meager earnings with strict instructions that it go toward a meal for the man. Maybe a nice sandwich with all the trimmings.

The magic snuffed out as the boy stirred, his parents rushing to his side as the healer staggered away. Hawke followed him with her eyes, frowning as he caught himself against the wall and swayed on his feet. His blonde hair had half escaped a tie he’d used to hold it back from his face, letting the strands fall into his face and obscuring it from view as he bent to suck in deep breaths. He’d overdrawn on mana, Hawke realized.

Her hand flew to her pack, fingers searching for a lyrium potion before she stopped - another refugee, perhaps an assistant, rushed to his side with one at the ready. He pushed the glass into the healer’s hands and he nodded his thanks before tossing the blue liquid back like a shot.

Carver’s impatience got the better of him and he cleared his throat, drawing the Warden’s attention. His amber eyes snapped to them, meeting her gaze for the briefest of moments and Hawke froze. He was handsome.

His was a narrow face with shadowed eyes, tired but kind with lines that crinkled at the edges even as he frowned at them. Hawke admired his long nose, her imagination running away from her with thoughts of what it might be like to sit on that lovely face and missed the way he dropped his gaze to the daggers at her waist. She did notice his eyes narrowing, darkening with righteous fury as he looked to Carver, then Varric, and finally Aveline.

The Warden lunged for his staff, his long, slender fingers wrapping around it like - Hawke snapped out of her daze, inhaling sharply as she realized she’d been holding her breath. She took an instinctive step in front of her brother, laying her hand on his arm as he reached for his own weapon. Heart pounding for a wholly different reason than being faced with a pretty man, she knew she had to diffuse the situation before it got ugly. The other refugees were sure to take poorly to their sole doctor being threatened.

It was an easy enough task once she got the man talking about his cat. The Grey Warden - Anders - didn’t let his guard down entirely as he ranted about the order he’d left behind, allowing her a moment to examine him more closely. He was thin, painfully so. There were dark circles beneath his golden eyes that spoke to sleepless nights yet there was a fierceness to him that drew her closer like a moth to flame. “Maybe I’ll double it and get him a nap and a sandwich,” she mused quietly, thinking about her impending donation.

The sharp jab of an elbow to her ribs brought her back to the present, and she stepped on Carver’s foot in retaliation. When she dragged her gaze back to the healer’s face, she flustered as they locked eyes again. “So if you’re not here for healing or to cause trouble for me…what do you want?” he directed at her. He’d clearly decided that she was the leader of their merry band, like so many before.

‘You,’ is what she absolutely couldn’t say no matter how desperately she wanted to. Anders blinked in surprise before his mouth curled into a warm smile, exhaling a chuckle. And Lirene said he wasn't a smiler. Maker. Her earlier words about marrying him rang in her ears, taunting her. Carver groaned in disgust and she felt her stomach drop into her feet as she realized that she’d said it after all. “Ah,” she said stupidly. Staring at the dirt floor beneath her feet, she willed it to open and swallow her whole to save her from her mortification.

“Somehow I doubt that’s why you came all this way,” Anders said, his smile turning wry. Hawke felt her face heat at his light-hearted tease and tried to hide the way she faltered by clearing her throat. Carver’s impatient shifting beside her reminded her of the real reason they came. It was no time to flirt with handsome healers.

Clearing her throat a second time, she decided to try again. “We need to know how to get into the Deep Roads.”

That wiped the smile off Anders’ face, his lips curving into a deep frown the moment she said their intended destination. “No,” came his firm reply, planting his hands against his hips to add to the sternness of it.

Hawke grimaced at the finality in that single word. "We have good reason for wanting to go," she tried to reason, taking a step toward him with her hands raised palms up. She wasn't above going down on her knees for him to beg, though she'd rather not have an audience for that. Her eyes dipped to his hip region unbidden at the thought, wondering what he'd look like out of his robes. "My mother's an Amell and-"

"Amell?" Anders perked up at the name, as did a small number of the patients still in the clinic. Ah, good. If the family was still known within the city, then perhaps the name still held some leverage after all. Having them in his debt would be a powerful gambit. "I knew an Amell once, back in Kinloch Hold."

Hawke wracked her brain for the stories Mother used to tell of her family. Magic had shown itself in the bloodline before she ran off with an apostate and had two of them herself. "That must have been our dear cousin…two times removed?" she stated, glancing at Carver for confirmation. He shrugged, shifting from hip to hip in anxiousness at the eyes on them. "Why Anders, that practically makes us family already!"

The healer pursed his lips at that, fighting back another smile. He gestured for them to follow him further into the clinic, leading them to a far wall that held a few scant boxes filled with bandages and herbs. Reaching into one of the boxes for a bunch of dried embrium, Anders plucked the petals before dropping them into a mortar atop a table a short distance away. "The answer is still no," he said at last, eyes sliding to her face.

Hawke threw her hands up in exasperation with a huff. That drew a true smile out of him, one that darted across his face before he was able to temper it back into a look of stern neutrality. "I don't know what sort of 'get rich quick' scheme this is, but the Deep Roads are dangerous. They aren't a place to go traipsing around for treasure."

"That's a rather bold assumption to make, isn't it? What if we're simple sightseers? I happen to have quite the interest in history and Varric here-"

"Is a member of the Merchant's Guild," Anders finished for her. He gave the dwarf an appraising look before turning back to her. "If you're going to lie to me, at least make it believable."

"It's not a lie," she pouted, not missing the way he glanced at her lips. "I do like history. When it's not boring, at least."

"We're funding an expedition," Varric butted in, interrupting their banter. He idly tugged on the straps of one of his bracers before looking up at the healer with the same winning smile he gave Hawke when they met. "You know, Blondie, if you provided any assistance at all - even something as simple as a map or two - we'd be more than happy to offer you compensation. Coin. Protection. Supplies for this clinic of yours."

Anders hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I just can't take that risk," he replied, shaking his head slowly. Pulling out a pestle, he began to grind the red petals into a fine powder. "I may not be with the Grey Wardens any longer, but memories of the Deep Roads and the darkspawn are fresh enough that I can't in good conscience send anyone foolish enough to risk the taint to their doom."

"We're getting nowhere," Hawke heard Carver complain from behind her. "Listen here, mage-"

She panicked. Flailing for another tactic, whether to calm her brother or convince the Warden, she exclaimed, "Wait!"

Carver ignored her, brushing her aside before she could decide which man to handle. She watched anxiously as her younger brother squared his shoulders and the way Anders tensed his own, not turning away from the poor flower he was in the middle of pulverizing. She saw the electricity crackle over his fingers, though, and her mind went blank.

"You can tell us how to get there, willing or not," she heard herself say before Carver had the chance to. As her brother spun to look at her in surprise, she went pale. So much for peaceful solutions. Well done, Hawke, you've threatened the healer after all.

"Hawke," Aveline hissed in both disapproval and warning. Varric simply shut his eyes and gave a long, suffering sigh.

The troubled expression that had marred Anders' handsome features morphed into one of anger. He spun to face her, stepping into her space to bring himself chest to chest with her and Maker he was tall. Hawke squirmed in the face of his fury, pressing her thighs together and hating that she found that attractive. There was probably something very wrong with her, but she couldn't bring herself to care with him close enough that she could see the golden lashes that framed his eyes.

"Don't threaten me, little girl," he growled down at her. How was that fair? Hawke pressed her thighs even tighter together as a stab of heat speared her. She was transfixed.

Oblivious to her internalized shame spiral, Carver scrambled for his sword in a much more normal reaction to the threat. Just as quickly as he'd approached, however, Anders stepped away, breaking the spell. Hawke threw out her hand to keep her brother at bay.

"You can't imagine what I've gone through to get here," the Warden spat bitterly as he returned to his work table. Bracing his palms against its surface, he slid his gaze between the two siblings. "I'm not about to-"

"I'm sorry," Hawke blurted, desperate to salvage things somehow. She quickly moved to his side, hopping up on the table and ignored the way it creaked precariously beneath her weight. Anders didn't move away, though he watched her warily. Crossing one long leg over the other, she knit her fingers atop her knee and affected a look of contrition. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. We haven't even introduced ourselves!"

Anders followed the line of her leg with his gaze before exhaling slowly. He turned and leaned against the table, facing away from her. "You already know my name," he pointed out, refusing to look at any of them.

"So does the whole of Darktown and half of Lowtown, it seems," Hawke replied in a light tone. She dared to reach out and gave his feathered pauldron a ginger pat. "I'm Hawke," she continued brightly, watching some of the surliness melt off of him.

Emboldened, she gestured to the rest of her companions. "You know Varric by now, of course. That's Aveline - she's a guard here in the city. And the tall glowering fellow is my brother, Carver."

Her brother's brows impressively furrowed deeper at the change in tactics. "Her name is Cat. We're both Hawke."

Anders' animosity disappeared entirely at that. "Siblings? That explains the way he's stood over you like a guard dog this whole time, I suppose." He paused. "Your name is Cat?" he asked, granting her a curious look.

"It's short for Catelyn. Mother's sense for irony - I'm a dog person, believe it or not," she breezed past the query, narrowing her eyes at her brother for his big mouth. Two could play at that game. She grinned at the way Anders' nose wrinkled, his interest quickly giving way to disgust. "Regardless, it's not my fault that everyone simply calls me Hawke."

"Of course not. It's not at all the fact that you never bother correcting them," Carver replied with a roll of his eyes. Hawke stuck her tongue out at him, resulting in a series of rude hand gestures that rapidly flew between them until Aveline broke their line of sight of each other.

"Enough! You're both worse than children," she barked, pulling them both up short. "The man said no. It's time to find another way."

Chastened, Hawke ducked her head while Carver crossed his arms and glared at the wall. She shot Anders an apologetic look and hopped off the table. "No hard feelings, I hope," she sighed. "My own grasp of creation magic is…shaky at best, and you never know when you might need a healer in a place like Kirkwall."

"Cat," her brother gasped, voice strained beneath the special kind of angry he became when he was scared. He grabbed her arm to haul her away from the Warden, fingers pressing painfully through the fabric of her sleeve. "Shout it from the rooftops next time, why don't you? I'll watch Mother cry while the templars drag you away."

Anders had gone deathly still, eyes rounding in a surprise that brought a giggle bubbling up out of Hawke's chest. "You're a mage?" he asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper. His hands fluttered like he wanted to draw her back to him then wrapped around his middle.

"As my father before me," she confirmed airily. Carver shook her for her foolishness, scowling as she wriggled out of his grasp. Once free, she stepped closer to the healer. Close enough that he could reach out for her if he really wanted to. She wanted him to.

No. Bad Hawke, her brother was already furious with her. She batted away her sudden desire to be held by a near stranger and wrestled it into her mental box alongside the other Bad Thoughts. When Carver pulled her away the second time, she let him, quirking her lips at the way he placed himself between them as though Anders himself wasn’t an apostate. But he was stubborn, like their pet mabari. The Warden gave an oddly wistful look at the two of them that made her heart ache anew.

“Carver, it’s alright. He’s hiding from the templars too, so he’s not likely to turn me in.”

“Never,” Anders affirmed with a vengeance, a steel edge curling along his voice. His eyes took on a strange light, almost looking blue for a moment. Hawke frowned but he was turning away from them to pace agitatedly, muttering to himself beneath his breath. Glancing at the others, Varric caught her eye and shrugged. ‘Mages, right?’ his expression read. She gave a half shrug back. She liked to talk to herself sometimes too, so she had no room to judge.

Taking the Warden’s distraction as their cue to leave, Hawke gave an awkward wave of her hand. “Alright, well…very sorry for disturbing you, Anders.” He paused in his pacing to look at them, eyes widening again. “If you ever need some muscle, or a sandwich, or a night off…well, we spend most evenings at the Hanged Man.” She turned to go, gesturing for the others to follow when his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

Hawke half-turned, twisting at the waist with her lopsided grin already in place. “Missing us already?” she teased, faltering when he retained his serious expression. Not so much as a smirk or an amused snort in response. Her smile slipped in turn.

“You can have my maps, though not for free,” Anders said in a rush. He took a step towards them, and then another. “A favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I’ll help you?”

The sudden shift put Hawke on edge. He’d refused when offered payment, protection, and supplies, so what would make the man change his mind? “I don’t do anything involving children or animals,” she replied reflexively.

His lovely lips turned down at the edges in confusion. “What?”

She shrugged in response. “We also had to go through a lot to reach this shithole of a city, including selling ourselves to a mercenary company for a year. I found that it’s good to have standards for jobs you might take.”

“Ah. It’s nothing quite so dire, I assure you. Compared to traveling into the Deep Roads, it shouldn’t pose an issue,” Anders continued, edging ever closer. Hawke inclined her head in acknowledgement, indicating for him to continue. He locked eyes with her and she knew she’d agree to anything he asked.

“I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend.”

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #olivia writes #Anders #Hawke #Handers #I used to post my ao3 fics here during the DAI days and might start doing it again #Catelyn Hawke #I can't believe I forgot to tag my pookie so its shows up in her tag lmao

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broken-clover · 17 days ago

Text

Animalese

Yup apparently I'm officially becoming that one guy who makes crossover fics. God help me.

Bit of Miitopia interim stuff. I don't know why Tao spends so much time with the horse so I assume they're just gossip buddies

A crop of whinnying and the clatter of wood had stirred Phoenix from his sleep. Nothing of value lost, but the ruckus meant that he couldn’t even entertain the futile thought of just rolling over and going back to bed.

He found his glasses and bedside lamp more with muscle memory than conscious awareness. By the time he was approaching something like proper wakefulness, he was already halfway down the hall. Phoenix paused, momentarily, to be sure he wasn’t at the top of the stairs and about to fall, and continued on.

Fluttershy again, he could only assume. He hadn’t seen any other horses in the stable when they’d pulled in. Even though she was a pretty good-tempered horse, she wasn’t immune to trouble. There had been a couple of nights back in Greenhorne where she’d gotten stuck in something and started to panic. Ever since, he had tried to keep at least one of them nearby her, whether that be bunking in the room next door or just straight-up sleeping in the stable.

Tonight’s horse-watching duty was supposed to be Taokaka’s. She never objected to the task the way that I-no did, but it didn’t mean Phoenix wasn’t worried still. Taokaka was…great, really, she was wonderful, just not the most…attentive. He’d hesitated to put her on guard duty when they had to camp out. The one time he had, she’d fallen asleep before the rest of them could even make it to the tent. Was that what had happened here? Then again, knowing Tao, she might have just wandered off at the sight of something vaguely interesting, and entirely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.

No, no, he didn’t have to be so mean. Just worry more about cleaning up the mess than about chewing people out.

He approached the stable, blearily rubbing at his eyes. Hopefully Fluttershy wasn’t too riled up.

“Tao knows, right?”

The man halted, hand still on the door. Tao was still in there?

While mostly closed, there was still enough of a gap between the stable’s wall and the door that Phoenix could peer through. When he squinted, he saw…not much of interest. Fluttershy was comfortably seated on the ground, and while he didn’t notice Taokaka at first, she wobbled into sight soon after, clothes soaked through with something.

She shook herself out, spraying droplets everywhere. “Bleh! I dunno why they’d put it up there.” A look was sent in the horse’s direction. “Tao can getcha more water when she’s not all soggy. This place stinks!” She hissed. “This place has a dumb trippy stool that can’t even hold Tao up without it breaking! Talk about low quality service, meow!”

Oh, okay. Just an accident, then. Nobody hurt. Good. He saw no reason to interfere if there wasn’t a problem. If he did, he imagined Tao would try to hang off of him and keep him from going back to bed because she wanted to play.

When she got within reach, Fluttershy leaned over and began licking the spilled water off of Tao’s cheek. “Haha! That tickles!”

“What the hell is going on in there?”

The man yipped, nearly falling forward into the door. When he turned around, I-no was fluttering right over his shoulder, visibly holding back a smirk from successfully startling him.

“When did you get here?”

“I dunno,” I-no shrugged. “Someone woke me up, so I was gonna return the favor by shoving my pitchfork up their ass.”

“H-hey! Hey!” Phoenix whisper-shouted, throwing up his hands and trying not to recall her tendency to ‘gently prod’ him and the others in the backside during battles. “It’s still late, we can still get some sleep…”

“Mrr? Whattaya mean, horsie?”

The two immediately quieted. After several moments, Phoenix ventured another careful glance into the stall. Neither Tao nor the horse were looking anywhere near their direction. Currently, the cat was smacking at Fluttershy’s muzzle, in a way that was hard to tell if it was some sort of play, or if she was swatting at a bug.

“Aw c’mooon, Tao told you who she likes, which means you gotta tell Tao who horsie likes!”

Fluttershy made a low snort and tossed her mane aside.

“You and Red Lady best friends yet?”

I-no scooted in closer to get a look of her own. “Is…is she talking to the horse?”

He didn’t have an answer. Common sense, of course, told him that they couldn’t be, but his eyes were making him skeptic. It certainly appeared so? He may not have been able to understand the horse’s sounds, but Tao spoke with the confidence of someone who did. Or, at least, thought they could.

The two watched in silence through the opening. Taokaka pawed at the lingering sheen of water on her face. Her ears were sodden and drooping with displeasure, but her tail still swished mischievously.

“You don’t do all those purr-etty tricks for her like you do for Tao! Does that mean I’m your favorite?”

Gleefully giggling, the cat tossed herself across Fluttershy’s back. The horse made a little huff of indignation, but made no motion to kick her off.

“Yeah, Red Lady is real grumpy. ‘n she gets all shouty when I try to pick up road snacks! Doesn’t she know Tao’s super hungry, meow?”

Fluttershy whinnied in a way that, if he was going crazy, Phoenix would swear was a noise of agreement.

“But she’s pretty! And she’s got meat buns! Nowhere near as big as Boobie Lady’s, though…”

“Meat…buns…?” It took him far longer than he’d care to admit to interpret what that was supposed to mean, and as soon as he did, he could feel his face warming.

A finger prodded his cheek. “Aww, lookit you all flustered. Do you really have so little experience that that gets you blushing?”

“Tao hasn’t got to squish ‘em yet, but they look weird. I’m startin’ to think Red Lady’s are fake.”

Despite himself, Phoenix covered his mouth with a hand and desperately tried not to laugh. Every time he thought he’d gotten used to Taokaka’s blunt method of speaking, she proved him wrong.

When he looked over his shoulder to his teammate, however, she did not share his sense of amusement.

“...Okay, that’s it- !”

“I-no- !”

All he could think of in the moment was to wrap around the imp to keep her from barging in. It worked. For about three seconds, until they collectively lost balance on a set of unsteady legs pulling in two different directions. The two stumbled back in a tangle, landing on the hay-lined floor with a thud.

Tao yawned, swiveling her head around as her ears twitched. “Whazzat, horsie? You hear something?”

Fluttershy chuffed, settling her head against one leg.

“Mrr, yeah, you’re right. Horsie and Tao need to get a looootta sleep! Otherwise Good Guy’s gonna get all whiney about it.” Tao got cozy on the horse's back and nodded off almost immediately, entirely oblivious to the scuffle still going on outside.

#frog writes #miitopia nonsense #extra bits #<- going with that tag for ficlets #I-no #taokaka #op back on her bullshit

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