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tiredofthehumanlife · 2 months ago

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Exquisite dancing and a loving married couple

Part one

Barbie dolls: husband! president!Coriolanus Snow x gn! Reader

Word: 5.3k

Summary: your joints are shit and you Coryo go to a gala and you guys are freaking cute

Warning: mentions of cream be mature it's like icy hot cream ok the brand is made up don't go looking for this magical blue flower joint cream, you like ceramics, you know that sound that goes okokokokokok and lalalala yeah that's y'all, you yap and coryo listens, you think you're a hassle and Coriolanus is like 😡hey shut up 💗, ypu have chronic pain/disability its mostly vague but your joints hurt, coriolanus is a lil ooc bc I wrote this before I finished the book and movie, his job is a lil vague but it's insinuated he's president, also speaking of president if you're American please go vote every vote counts plz, a man tries to flirt with you I didn't want it to be like traumatic but he is gross so he's like comically creepy, you're a smidgen oblivious but consider it in the autistic way not the "oh I'm a ditsy innocent Virgin reader I wear Velcro shoes and lace panties always what's body hair" way, old lady bothers yall, you kinda ignore what's going on and let coriolanus handle all the social interactions, mentions of sex and mildly nsfw, its kissy and light touching, you don't drink alcohol or at least not at this specific gala, yea that's it

With the warm dinner in your shared bed still feesh on his mind, Coriolanus decided he wanted to get closer to you. If you would grant him the friend title, he'd accept it. If he could choose, you'd both use kisses as greetings and know everything about each other.

Truly he worried more about how much pain you went through in your day-to-day life. Coriolanus decided there were going to be changes in how people treated you. Mavvy was going to be your right-hand-maid, ready to jump into action if you ever needed it. If he even caught a whiff of someone making an off-handed comment about you, he planned to leave his precious gem cuff links in your hands and start swinging. On the topic of him, he decided he was going to spend every minute of his free time worshiping you if it meant you'd be more comfortable.

One evening after work he stopped by a local cornerstone with racks upon racks of simple medical supplies. Coriolanus followed the clerk around as he spit possibly thousands of words all about the best ways to help with joint pain.

Coriolanus came home with bags so stocked full of supplies he stumbled through the sunroom door, almost dropping them all. After you swallowed your shock, you two started experimenting with all the new supplies. Some of them helped, some of them didn't, but your favorite was the cream that had a blue flower on the bottle.

For one Coriolanus was adamant on not letting you do it yourself. He just had to rub it in for you. After the third time, you didn't mind it at all. You liked him massaging your joints. You felt like it was the only way they felt any better. The cream helped definitely, his hands were just a bonus.

Just like that, your relationship started to shift. After the bath situation, you had more good days than bad in your body. Some days you would rest more than you truly wanted but for the most part, you were doing pretty good.

Though sometimes you mentioned the pain to Coriolanus even if it wasn’t all that bad just so he’d rub your joints and muscles. He got so used to it, that he started to do it absentmindedly. Coriolanus rubbed the muscles in your hand as you two were settling into bed. He rubbed the back of your calves when he massaged the cream into your knees. He rubbed your shoulders every time he pulled your coat on or off.

His dresser became more and more cluttered with your creations as time went by. You laid in bed longer in the mornings so you could compliment him on his clothes before he left.

Coriolanus sometimes even changed outside of his closet. Every time he looked up, you’d be watching him. It made his chest puff out. It gave him so much confidence he thought about always undressing and redressing in front of you. You talked almost constantly around him, he loved every word of it. You didn’t stop talking and ask him about himself, you just talked. He listened and when the conversation floated back to him, you listened to every bit.

Soon enough you became friends that happened to be married. You both secretly thought there were some simmering romantic feelings that grew with every touch and laugh. You didn’t sleep on other sides of the bed now, you actually scooted into the center to hold onto one another. You always used the ruse of hurting arms that just needed to be wrapped around someone. Coriolanus saw through you like glass but played along. He held you just as tight as you held him. He thought if he could choose where he got to die it would be right there in your arms.

Months flew by with you just inching closer and closer. You both became comfortable with each other. Dinners were one of your favorite times of the day. You got to talk with Coriolanus and laugh over good food. Halfway through your rant about the difference between Earthenware and Porcelain, Coriolanus touched the back of your hand to silently ask you to pause for a second. You paused your sentence, looking away from the food you had been pushing around. Coriolanus wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin before setting it back in his lap.

“This weekend there is a gala I need to go to for work,” Coriolanus said, hoping you caught on to where he was heading. You smiled and set your fork down.

“Okay, I hope you have fun. I can handle the house on my own for one night, no problem.” Your tone was so bright he felt like you might be more excited to stay home. Coriolanus shook his head. He gripped onto your hand, making sure his seriousness was received.

“I’d like you to go with me.” He clarified, watching your expression closely. You stared at him like you didn’t understand why and looked at your plate instead. “You’re not being forced to go. I just want you to be there. I know I would have a much better time if you were there. I think you would enjoy yourself.” Coriolanus waited for you to look back to him. You peeled your eyes away from your plate. Your other hand came to rest on top of his, making a sandwich with your hands.

“Are you sure you want me to go? I might just end up being a hassle. If it’s a work thing I want you to be able to meander about. I’d just weigh you down.” You said, staring into his eyes so sincerely it hurt. He shook his head at you, upset you could even think those words about yourself.

“You’re not a hassle. I want you to come with me. I want to spend the night with you. Also, I’m forced to go, so taking you with me would make the night enjoyable.” Coriolanus’ hand was warming from yours. He wanted to flip his hand over and hold onto your other one but he was trapped. You finally nodded.

“I’ll go.” You whispered. Coriolanus let you continue your speech on clay types, returning to his food.

The rest of the week flew by and before you knew it, you were getting ready with Mavvy next to you. You took a bath and there she was, clipping her nails while sitting on the bathroom sink. Mavvy helped you dress, smiling at you when she finished. You hated to have favorites when it came to people but you liked Mavvy much more than any of the maids or butlers. Mavvy walked with you as you made it downstairs. Mavvy lead you to the Library. Coriolanus heard your footsteps and stood from the chair he was sitting in. He paused when he looked you up and down. He smiled and nodded at you, holding his arm out for you. Coriolanus muttered compliments as you walked into the venue.

It was stunning, the decorations made you want to inspect them and dissect them to find out what they were made of. You held onto Coriolanus’ arm and tuned out his words. He pulled you towards a wall but you didn’t watch where you were going, staring at what looked like fake dragonflies and butterflies dance around in the air.

There was soft music playing from the wall across from the entrance. There was an orchestra whispering out tunes towards the chattering crowd. It wasn’t packed but there were definitely plenty of people. Against the wall Coriolanus was dragging you towards was food and drinks, plenty of glittering small foods and dishes.

Around the floor were round tables that could sit eight at maximum. Towards the orchestra was an empty space of floor that had a few people casually dancing on. You decided you and Coriolanus would be dancing at some point tonight. On the opposing wall from the food, was another row of long tables, though you couldn’t make out what was on those. Coriolanus’ fingers brushed against your cheek, dragging your chin back towards him. You understood and focused on where you were heading instead of the room.

Coriolanus walked towards a group of maybe six people. They all greeted him warmly. He introduced you, you gave them a short smile and nod. He listed off their names and you committed none of them to memory but pretended you did.

Coriolanus wandered around the room, greeting plenty of people and talking plenty of business with them. You got bored quickly, slipping away from his side with a kiss on his cheek. You headed straight for the table with beverages, at least you’d have something to hold onto. You wandered around the table, holding your hand up to cover the card that had the name of the food on it, guessing and revealing the answer to yourself. You had gotten 7 right out of the 10 you tried but it was more entertaining than listening to Coriolanus yammer about business.

A man came and stood next to you, picking up a Meat Stick Thingamabobber, as you had named them. You moved on to the next item, guessing Brie and learning it was actually some other fancy cheese you didn’t know how to pronounce. The man moved with you, scooting over one. You moved over two, staring down at the Rosemary Crackers you had no interest in eating. The man finally greeted you, still following after you and scooting down the table.

“Vinal. Richardson.” He stuck his hand out towards you, a crystal plate stacked with Meat Stick Thingamabobbers in the other. You could not want to shake someone’s hand less. You still shook it though, giving him a quick smile. You gave him your first name, looking back at the stupid Rosemary Crackers.

“Do you work here? I’ve never seen you in the Office?” He asked. When he said here you assumed he meant do you work in Coriolanus’ office. You shook your head.

“Oh no, I’m a plus one. I very much could not work in the Office.” You chuckled, thinking of the way you felt incomplete without looking or making art at some point during the day. Like just today you walked into your sunroom, realized how much work it would be to paint, and left. How could you live without that joy in your life? Vinal chuckled like he was inside on the joke. Which he was not. You glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot Coriolanus without looking like you were looking.

“Guess not. You’re too pretty to sit in the office all day.” Vinal said. You moved towards the end of the table, picking up a drink. You already tried one and they were quite enjoyable. They had a fruity taste to them and even though they weren’t alcoholic they made you less nervous. You had a reason to be quiet while you were sipping.

“Well I don’t know, I know at least one very pretty person who works in an office.” You countered, thinking of Coriolanus getting dressed in the morning. He didn’t know it but the sun always peaked out from the curtains and caught in his hair while he buttoned his shirt. He might think you liked to watch him dress for more lewd reasons. Though maybe he wasn’t completely wrong, you liked watching his gears turn. Watching him get ready for the day always felt so domestic you might even think your wedding was sparked by love. You knew he thought of all the words you told him in the morning so you planned them out as he pulled his outfit together piece by piece. As you looked up from your drink, the smile on Vinal’s face set you on edge.

“Aren’t you a little tease? Well, where do you work then?” You furrowed your eyebrows at Vinal. What did that have to do with being a tease? You weren’t sure how you should answer his question. You didn’t really work.

“I make art. Mostly I stay at home.” You gave Vinal a half-shrug. He oooed.

“You make art? What kind? My mother is actually a painter. I’m sure she’d love you.” You took a sip from your glass, glancing around the room like you were lulling his question over. You still hadn’t caught Coriolanus. Damn your husband for wearing neutral colors. Why could he not where bright neon orange, at least you’d find him when you needed him.

“I do all sorts of things.” You finally answered. Vinal nodded.

“I’m sure you do. Where’s your friend? You’re a plus one right, I wanna meet your friends.” Vinal asked, glancing around the room with you. You shrugged.

“I’m not sure actually.” You whispered into your drink. Vinal reached out for your face, turning your head to face his again.

“Or we could just get out of here…go somewhere quiet?” Your skin crawled and you realized just how extremely happy you were married off to Coriolanus instead of some freak like Vinal. You sucked in a harsh breath, that he probably considered a good sign. You looked away from him, begging for Coriolanus to appear.

He must’ve heard your thoughts because he took a step back from the group he was talking to, smiling and taking a step forward again to join the conversation again. You shoved your drink into Vinal’s hands and stepped away from him. You moved as quickly as you could from him, hoping he didn’t follow. You glanced over your shoulder, glad to see he stayed in his spot. You swerved around the people moving about the tables.

You felt your anxieties slightly ease when Coriolanus was close enough you could hear his voice. You dipped into Coriolanus’ group, joining him at his side. You pressed your hand into the small of his back.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on the coworker he was speaking to, nodding with whatever they were saying. He still showed you he recognized your existence, pulling his arm around you and tucking you into his side.

You glanced over at Vinal to find him still standing at the table with your plate in his hands and staring at you upset. You reached up to tuck a stray hair behind Coriolauns’ ear. You pressed your knuckle against his cheek for a second longer than you normally would. You were silently telling him you needed his attention. Coriolanus’ brows pinched but he still stared at the person talking. When his coworker finished talking and a new coworker started he turned to face you.

“Do you know a Vinal Richardson?” You whispered. Coriolanus gave you a confused look.

“Yes, he’s a vile little worm, why?” He answered, keeping his tone low. You held onto Coriolanus’ back tighter.

“I think he just tried to get me to go sleep with him. And meet his mother. I think I accidentally flirted with him, but I really didn’t mean to it just came out wrong. I was talking about something else but he must’ve taken it to mean I was talking about him. Now he’s all upset because I ditched him and every time I look over my shoulder he’s staring-“ Coriolanus tugged you forward into a hug, using it to comfort you and look over your shoulder. There he was, Vile Vinal. Pouting away and glaring at Coriolanus. Coriolanus pulled you back and knocked his nose with yours. He gently kissed the corner of your mouth and rubbed your back.

“Don’t worry about him. How is your body feeling?” Coriolanus asked. You pressed your nose against Coriolanus’ collar, breathing in the scent you started to associate with your home.

“I need to rest soon. I feel hot.” You whispered into his clothes. Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your forehead. He gave his coworkers a goodbye and a promise of later returning. He gently pulled you away from your hug and held onto your elbow.

He moved you towards a nearby table and pulled out a chair for you. You slumped into it, fanning your face with your hands. Coriolanus picked up a piece of very thick paper that held the details of the reason and funding for the gala. Special thanks and all that. He fanned you with it. It helped greatly, the soft breeze cooling the burning under your skin. His hand slipped over your shoulder, rubbing the tension from it as he fanned you. You hummed and leaned your cheek against his forearm. You heard the chair next to you drag across the floor. You didn’t worry about it, focusing on Coriolanus fanning you. The voice you assumed from an older woman asked Coriolanus if you were alright.

“Just fine, Ma’am. A little hot, that's all.” Coriolanus answered, you could hear his smile. His hand traveled up your shoulder and neck. He gently tilted your head back against his abdomen, fanning your neck and chest. The old woman started rattling off about how much she loved watching newlywed couples interact, it reminded her of her last husband. You peeked an eye open at that, tilting your head to the side, much to Coriolanus’ disapproval, making eye contact with the old lady.

“Are we still considered newlyweds if it’s been months?” You asked. Coriolanus kept fanning you. His other hand resting on your cheek and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. The old woman raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose not, keeping the love young then. You two still have the Glow.” You quirked an eyebrow, confusion lacing your face. Coriolanus trailed his fingers up to your brow line, massaging away the wrinkle. You closed your eyes, not caring again, and leaned your head back against him.

“You just have the look of young and new love. Must be the honeymooning, that always keeps the stress and anxiety of marriage sedated.” The old woman muttered. You furrowed your brows again, turning your head away from the woman in disgust. Coriolanus rested his hand on the side of your neck, reminding you he was still right there with you. Like you could forget that amazing makeshift fan of his, oh is that a cooler brush of air than last time?

“Trust me, Ma’am. The love of ours is something much more pure. Honeymooning can only get you so far. Care and trust is what takes you to the finish line.” Coriolanus defended. Was it even really defending? You supposed so, this old woman just said you two only worked because you fucked. Which was falsities at best. You reached up and held onto Coriolanus’ wrist. He kept the fan going with his other hand. He twisted his hand in a strange way to release your grip and intertwine your finger instead. The woman smacked her lips.

“Well, I suppose that’s true. You don’t hear that often from young birds like you two. All the yougins think about honeymoons.” She said. You sat up straighter, feeling like you could handle another hour or two before you needed to go. Coriolanus ignores the woman, putting his focus on you again.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowing his fanning. You clenched your teeth. You could lie and say you were fine but that’s exactly how you ended up stuck in the bathtub.

“I could probably power through another hour or two.” You answered. Coriolanus dropped the paper onto the table.

“That’s not what I asked, How are you feeling?” Coriolanus repeated. You felt too tired to be scolded.

“Tired and my legs hurt. I know you have more to do though so I can wait here and we can stay for longer.” You said, trying to cover up how badly you just wanted to go home and go to sleep. Coriolanus clicked his tongue. The old woman nodded in understanding.

“Ready to skip town and get back that honeymoon bed?” She asked. She must’ve felt like a genius detective coming up with that one.

“Chronic pain.” You answered, tired of her blabbering in your ear.

“No,” Coriolanus said in sync with your words. He sent a look over toward the old woman, if you didn’t know him you’d think it was just a confused look. You did know him and you knew he was beyond annoyed with her.

“I think I’m actually feeling exhausted, all that classical music tuckered me out. What do you think, Darling?” Coriolanus asked. You stood from your chair, leaning into Coriolanus.

“I think, we ought to get you home. You must be running a fever, sweetheart.” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead and yanked it back. You shook it out sucking in a breath. ”Oh you’re burning up, we must take you home immediately.” Coriolanus smiled at you joining in on the ruse, sticking his arm out for you to hold onto.

Your driver made quick work of getting you two home. In the car, you leaned against Coriolanus and felt your heart soar when he wrapped both his arms around you.

In no time Coriolanus was pulling you through the bedroom door. Mavvy followed both of you inside, trying to help you out of your clothes. She had placed your shoes back on the rack, moving back to you. By the time Mavvy had finally started the process of getting your first piece of clothing off, Coriolanus was taking over her responsibilities. He was already half undressed, his pajama pants on and his matching shirt waiting on the edge of the bed. Mavvy seemed hesitant letting him take the reins. When you smiled at her and rubbed her hand soothingly, she left the room.

Coriolanus was much slower than Mavvy. Mavvy was destination-focused. She was just trying to get you into your pajamas as fast as possible. She wanted you in bed and her shift over as quickly as possible. You tried to tell her she could go to bed already and you could undress yourself, you were an adult after all. Yet she waved your hands off and continued.

Coriolanus was path-based, moving his hands terribly slowly. He took plenty of time just pulling your clothes down to the floor. His fingertips dragged across your skin, making you shiver. He rested his hands on your hips as he moved behind you to work the rest of your clothes off of you.

You waited for his hands to move, but they were frozen on your hips. They ran up your back, making you stand straighter, before dipping over your shoulders. He ran them down your arms and stopped at your hands. He fiddled with your fingers, running his fingers against your fingertips. He moved his hands around to the back of yours. He felt the way your knuckles flexed with your finger twitched, felt the underside of your wrists, and felt the wish of your hands always being on him get caught behind his teeth. You tilted your head to the side, trying to meet his eyes. Coriolanus turned his body slightly so you could see him staring into your soul eyes.

“I think I like this better when you do it than Mavvy.” You whispered. You wanted to mention the differences in pacing, how his fingers made your skin burn, how much you wanted him to just spend the next hour running his hands over your body. Coriolanus’ face stayed neutral. It scared you slightly, maybe you spoke out of turn. Maybe you should’ve stayed silent entirely. His eyebrows twitched up and the smallest, tiniest, most minuscule grin pulled at his lips.

“Why thank you, I like this more too.” He thought of all that was running through his mind. Romance was something you two hadn't even tried to approach, it was all about reaching friendship so you could withstand each other.

Npow the electrics that ran through your fingers when you touched his skin, the way your eyes pulled him closer, and just the way you two moved with each other physically and mentally, he could feel something stirring. It was so easy for you to catch what he was thinking without even a word, you both could communicate with nothing but a touch, and oh man the way your compliments sent waves across his body.

He could hear the storm approaching. The relationship was about to take a massive hit and change for better or for worse. Whether he liked it or not, the friendship you two had just built was about to come raining down on the both of you. Coriolanus hoped it would be used to blossom a gorgeous flower that would allow him to kiss you with a thousand unspoken words. There was always the chance that it could start a flood and you two would be whisked away from each other and end up on opposite sides of the bed again.

As you stared at him, he was certain you could read minds because you spoke again. You nudged him towards the storm and he was almost entirely certain you knew what you were doing.

“You know, I wanted to dance with you tonight. Too much happened before we could do that though.” You said, facing the front again. Coriolanus would’ve stayed silent but a crack of metaphorical thunder pushed the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I planned on asking you for a dance before we left as well. Great minds, I suppose.” Coriolanus ran his hands down your arms again, intertwining your fingers. You leaned back against him and pulled his arms to cross over your body.

“Wish we brought our dancing shoes home, then.” You muttered. You tilted your head at a strange angle to catch a glimpse of him, hoping he caught on to what you were hinting at. Coriolanus smiled and dipped his nose to your temple. No, he caught it. He tightened his arms around you.

“Think you could manage just one dance?” He whispered, pressing his lips to your cheekbone. You nodded. You turned around in his hold, pressing your chest to his. You slipped your arms around his waist, knocking your nose with his for a second.

“As long as it’s slow and gentle. Think you can handle that, Mr. Snow?” You said, a smile still pulling at your lips. Coriolanus pulled one of your hands from his back, intertwining your fingers. He held up your hand, slippingll into the dancing position. He rested his other hand on your back, just as yours was on his. He started to slowly sway with you, tipping you around the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom. He leaned towards your ear.

“Coryo. Please, darling.” Coriolanus whispered.

”How many more times are you going to change your name?” You joked, enjoying the swaying pace he started. Coriolanus shook his head. He gave you a light shrug and continued your dancing. You were terribly happy he had already made it halfway into his pajama set. His fancy shoes definitely would’ve hurt if there was a misstep. It was just the two of you, half-naked, socked feet moving in sync, and absolutely no music. Probably would’ve been better if he started some tunes but you didn’t seem to care at all, grinning up at him.

You tried to imagine how this dance would’ve been if you actually did dance at the gala. Coriolanus would’ve been uptight. He moved differently with his coworkers than he did with you. His back was straighter, his smile was tighter, and every word was calculated. You imagined how he would’ve danced with you in the way he was taught to as a child. Not like he was now.

You liked this much more. It was just a simple way that rocked you back and forth. Coriolanus was relaxed, pressing his skin against yours. He was humming in your ear like he could hear music you couldn’t. His hand was gentle rubbing your back, keeping you close to him. You enjoyed this much more than the dance that could’ve been at the gala.

Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from the small of your back to the top hem of your underwear. You cocked your head to the side, asking him what he thinks he’s doing with your look. Coriolanus peeled his eyes away from the space over your shoulder he was staring at to meet your eyes. As you two slowed your moves in your swaying circle with connected eyes, his fingertips under the band of your underwear. It wasn’t traveling just dipping in to test you, your feelings, to test it all.

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at you, asking you what you thought about his move. Your hand on his back shifted to his chest, trailing up to his neck. He tilted his chin up as you ran your fingers over the side of his throat. He pressed his fingertips into your skin, begging you for more.

You held onto the back of his head. You pulled his face closer to yours, knocking your noses together. Coriolanus slowed your sway, pulling you into a standpoint. He brought your intertwined hands to his shoulder, dropping your palm onto it. His now free hand found your cheek. He glanced between your eyes and lips. A question was laced in his flickering gaze, were you ready to step into the rain with him?

A small grin reached your lips. That was all the answer he needed, leaning closer to you. He was taking his sweet time inching his lips closer and closer to yours. All of his tailing fingertips the past few weeks made you impatient. You lurched forward and pressed your lips against his.

After getting married, all you could think about was how intimidating your husband was. How were you supposed to grow closer to him if you couldn’t even look him in the eye? He just set you on edge so you tried to avoid interacting with him. You wrote to him instead of speaking because it was easier. All you could think about in those first months was staying away from Coriolanus.

Now all you could think about was how to get closer. He moved his lips against yours in perfect harmony with your movements. Coriolanus left a buzzing against your skin. Even with his mouth on yours and hands pressing into your flesh you couldn’t think of anything but more more more more and more. You pulled back enough to suck in a breath, your lungs straining under your ribs. Coriolanus dipped his mouth down, kissing under your chin. You breathed hard, your skin pressing into Coriolanus’.

You pulled his mouth away from your neck by the back of his head. You pressed your lips against him before he could complain. Coriolanus must’ve felt the same way you did about him needing to be closer because his hands started to dig into your back again. Coriolanus’ fingers rested on the edge of your underwear and slipped further inside, pressing his palm against your ass. He tugged you closer to him, pressing your body fully against his. He hummed into your lips like he was finally happy with your proximity.

As much as you wanted to kiss him until you both decayed into swaying skeletons, your lungs needed substance and your knees were hurting again. You slowly pulled back. Coriolanus was clearly not agreeing with this move, chasing after your lips by pressing his lips back to yours in brief kisses and trying to draw you back in. You tapped his shoulder, telling him to pull away. He pulled back, finally giving you time to breathe.

That night he rubbed the cream into the joints of your legs and kissed you again before slipping into the covers. You two had never slept so close in that bed. Your legs were tangled. He was holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were actually incredibly glad you married Coriolanus. Coriolanus added a new flower on top of your dresser in the morning. He couldn’t be more thankful for the very not real and incredibly metaphorical thunderstorm that pushed the two of you together.

#the thunderstorm was metaphorical btw if you couldn't tell #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fandom #tbosas fanfiction

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anjaelle · 1 year ago

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I Think She Knows

Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader Warnings: Drunk!Tangerine, Needy!Tangerine, Jealous!Tangerine, (Kinda Toxic Behavior) Word Count: 2.4K Summary: In which Tangie starts realizing things and absolutely does not have the bandwidth to deal with it. Because babygirl is bad at most things, and feelings are at the top of the list. a/n: Something something... I don't advocate for getting drunk and being weird at your not-girlfriend's house. Thanks!

(gif source)

When it fully hit him, it was like being mowed down by a 10-ton truck.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. The way his chest suddenly rose and fell made him made him question if his heart was attempting to escape his ribcage just to be closer to you.

You were talking about...something. You came over wearing a skin tight red dress and you carried your shoes in your hands as you tiredly strolled into his kitchen.

Actually, he remembered what you were talking about.

You mentioned how tired you were of having to talk to idiot men, but that stabbing them in the head for your efforts was almost worth the annoyance. Ordinarily he probably would've just laughed or made a smart ass comment about how lucky he was that he could be around you without the threat of violence. But you mentioned fighting, did a small spin in a circle, and did something akin to a silly jig to show how secure you felt in your dress.

He felt his thoughts halt in their tracks, and he suddenly couldn't remember his own birth name, let alone how to form a coherent sentence.

You didn't even seem to notice. Or maybe he hid it well. Because the conversation continued like he hadn't malfunctioned right in front of you. Maybe he was running on autopilot. That had to be it.

He swallowed hard, ran his fingers through his mess of untamed curls, and shakily came back into himself with the heavily realization that he was deeply in love with you.

Did you even know? Was it evident on his face like ostentatious neon lights in the middle of a darkened street? You kept talking about your day and he tried to listen intently. But his own brain wouldn't shut the fuck up.

When he realized that he broke the one rule you two made (which he introduced), he wanted to walk into the Atlantic Ocean with rocks in his pockets. He loved you. You weren't even dating. You were definitely seeing other people and he realized he slowly cut out every other person he'd ever fucked just to spend more time with you.

God. He'd dropped SO many other people. He could remember canceling potential hookups just because you wanted to hang out. Of fucking course he couldn't tell you this now. He'd look like a massive idiot.

"Are you alright? You seem off." You suddenly asked. Your beautiful eyes seemed to roam his face in genuine concern. Death would've been easier to face. In fact, death has notoriously been much easier for him to face.

He forced an assumedly easy grin on his face and shrugged, "I'm just listenin', babe."

You quirked a suspicious brow at him, but continued on with your story of your mission. Every so often he could feel himself staring at your mouth and the way your nose seemed to crinkle at certain memories of the night. He was suddenly hyperaware of how much he seemed to be study your every move. Had he been doing it this whole time?

On some level, he was confident that he could tell you exactly how many birthmarks you had on your entire body.

God what a sick fucking freak.

Suddenly his mouth started moving as if it wasn't connected to his own goddamn brain.

"You stayin' over tonight?"

He'd cut you off mid-sentence with the question. Naturally, you shot him a look that screamed contempt.

"...Maybe." You cut your eyes at him in a subtle challenge.

He felt like he didn't sound the least bit convincing, but he straightened his back to force an air of confidence that he obviously didn't have, "Well I need to know, because I might have plans. With a girl. Tonight."

He wasn't sure what he expected your reaction to be. Maybe he wanted you to be jealous. Or maybe he wanted you to try and convince him to change his mind. It was childish, but he wanted you to give him...something. Instead you raised your brows in surprise.

"Oh, really?" You grinned, "Is she cute?"

Oh come on. He thought.

"Yeah, a real stunner." Stunner? What the fuck was he saying? He couldn't stop himself, "Rebecca's tall, blonde, a model. Fuckin' sexy. So gorgeous."

He watched you slip your heels back on and adjust the top of your dress to hide your bra. He wanted to grab your beautiful face and kiss you. Instead he was spiraling and you didn't even notice.

"Blonde?" You seemed skeptical. Yes, good. "Since when do you go for Blondes?"

"Since always, actually. You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?"

You shot another cutting glare in his direction, and he fought the childish giddiness rising in his chest. When you looked away from him to tap away on your phone, he tried to figure out what else he could say to get your attention again.

"You're in a particularly bitchy mood today." You suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should leave, then." He responded, much harsher than he intended to. He winced the minute the words left his mouth and you looked like you wanted to throw something at him.

"Since you wanna be a dick, fine. I'm having Jamesy pick me up."

You threw your jacket on and started tapping on your phone again, which irritated him to no end.

"Jamesy?" He spat, "Who the hell is Jamesy?"

"You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?" You threw back at him in an almost perfect accent. He deserved it. But he started to panic as you headed towards the door.

"Well fine." He countered, though it sounded akin to a whine, "Stephanie's probably on her way, anyway. I don't want to watch you two fight over me or somethin'."

"Nobody's trying to fight over you, shut up." You mumbled, shoving your phone in your pocket. You took a second to pull the door open, but hesitated, "And also who's Stephanie?"

"The model."

"You said her name was Rebecca."

He stumbled over his words but finally came up with, "I--it's...You just have to be right all the time, don't you?"

He caught the way your mouth twitched in an attempt to fight a laugh, and he really wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you back into his apartment. But your phone dinged again, and you pulled it out of your pocket, "Look, when you're done throwing this little temper tantrum, and you figure out what your problem is, text me. Otherwise, sort your shit out."

Tangerine was having a terrible night. His face sat in a permanent frown as he stared into the fake embers of his electric fireplace and nursed a mason jar of vodka. You were out there getting railed by some prick named James who's too fuckin' old to still be going by Jamesy. And you probably weren't even thinking about him and how he's absolutely piping a real person named Bethany. Stephanie. Rebecca.

♫ I wish, I could just make you turn around Turn around and see me cry There's so much I need to say to you so many reasons why You're the only one who really knew me at all♫

He'd lost track of how many times Phil Collins' miserable pleading played on a loop through his speakers. He felt like a goddamn loser. He scrolled through your Instagram noting that you truly had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. And you were so funny. Maybe the funniest person he knew. Even the emojis you used were cute.

He wanted to jump in front of a train.

"'Maybe you should leave then' you fuckin' idiot." He mumbled pitifully to himself. "What if I just like...went to her house? What if that guy is there? What if she doesn't answer? What if she tells me to fuck off? What if I tell her and she never speaks to me again?"

He stared at his phone sending and unsending his texts to you over and over, trying to figure out what to say. Or if you'd even read it. Suddenly his phone vibrated and a text from you popped up:

You've sent and unsent me like 9 messages. What the fuck do you want?

It took him 8 minutes to find an Uber to your place and 20 minutes to get there. Was he drunk and irrational? Maybe. But goddamn it, you were his woman.

You just didn't know it yet.

When he got to your floor, he started knocking incessantly on your door.

"Babe," he whined, drunkenly, "darling, are you still mad at me? I'm sorry." When he pressed his damp forehead to the cool metal door of your apartment, he didn't even realize how much he was sweating, "I know I said I was fucking that model. Um. Sabrina! Rhonda? Whatever the hell. But I lied. I'm a filthy fuckin' liar."

He pressed his ear to the door, but he didn't hear anything through the thick metal.

"Please don't fuck that James prick--I'm not callin' him Jamesy. I reckon the man is nearly 40, BARE MINIMUM!" He pressed his palm to the door and called your name again, waiting for you to open it.

When you didn't, he slid down to the floor and cradled the half empty mason jar to his chest.

"So take a look at me now, there's just an empty spaaaace. And there's nothin' left here to remind me. Just the memory of your faaaaace. I'm not leaving 'til you talk to me!"

He felt the back of his head thud against the door but he was too wasted to really feel it. He'd definitely feel it come morning, for sure. His eyes drifted closed as his mind started to wander. Maybe you were asleep after being fucked into the middle of next week. Maybe the guy was telling you to ignore his desperate pleas for attention. He wanted to throw up everywhere.

"Fuckin' Jamesy." He mumbled, crossing his arms in childish disappointment.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and you stumbled out of the door with another woman, giggling uncontrollably. You both held bags of fast food in your arms and it was clear you'd had something to drink as well. The minute you caught a glimpse of him sitting slouched in front of your door, he noticed you exchanging looks with the red headed woman by your side.

"Tangerine, what are you doing here?" You carefully asked, clocking the booze in his lap.

"Nevermind that," he slurred, stupidly, "where's Jamesy?"

The tall, slender red-headed woman raised a hand and waved, "Hi, I'm Jamesy. Do we, like, know each other? Or?"

Tangerine groaned and rested his head against the door again, "Ugh! Jamesy's a lass? How the shit am I supposed to compete with that?"

The woman turned to you with a curious look on her face, "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know. Can you hold this please?" You handed the bag of White Castle to your friend and approached the sad, drunk assassin sitting on the floor outside of your apartment. He looked pitiful. When you brushed his curls from his forehead, you noticed that he was sweating vodka. "Okay, sweetness, you need to get up."

When he looked at you, and saw the concern on your face, he gently touched your cheek and frowned, "You're so pretty, baby. You're the prettiest person I've ever seen in my whole entire life."

"You're pretty, too. But you really need to get up. And you're heavy as fuck, so I need you to help me out here."

"Okay," he nodded sharply, shoving the jar of vodka into his leather jacket pocket. And it surprisingly fit. You didn't question it further. You took a step back and held your arms out in case he lost his balance as he rose to his feet.

It was like watching a 5'11 baby deer.

He leaned against the door, trying to keep his balance, as you grabbed your share of the food from your friend and kissed her goodbye as she left for her Uber.

"What kind of girl is named Jamesy?" Tangerine muttered, as you attempted to unlock the door.

You sighed heavily, "Her name is Siobhan James. But I couldn't pronounce Siobhan when we were little, so I called her Jamesy and it stuck."

"That's so cute. I reckon you were a cute kid." He mumbled, resting his damp head on your shoulder. "You're a cute grown-up. We'd make cute kids."

"Yes, sweetness. We would. And also you're soggy."

"Mhmm." He kissed the shoulder that was covered in his sweat and mumbled, "I'm so sorry I was so, so mean to you, angel face. I was just being a massive dickhead."

"Yeah, you were." You agreed, giving up on trying to unlock the door while he leaned onto you.

"I--I just love you a whole fuckin' lot and I don't know how to deal with that shit. Because, like, you could have anyone you want. So why would you want me, you know?" He grumbled.

"There are a lot of reasons why I want you, Tangerine. You never have to feel insecure about that. I'm just...confused. You decided that the answer to this was to make me mad?" You scratched his scalp, "Does that make sense to you?"

"I wanted you to tell me that you didn't want me to see other people."

"Why would I tell you that, if that's what you want?" You asked, sincerely, "I stopped seeing other people because I love just spending time with you--"

"Hang on. You stopped seeing other people? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked." You finally managed to unlock the door, and you both stumbled over the threshold.

"Here I was thinking you were getting pounded by lumberjack-built twats named Jamesy. I was in my apartment crying to Phil Collins for nothing?"

"I guess so." You tossed your keys on the kitchen island as he stumbled to the couch and face-planted into the cushions. By the time you showered and changed, he'd fallen into a deep sleep beside the bottle of water and advil tablets you placed out for him.

"And for the record..." you kissed him on top of his head and turned the lights out, "I love you, too. But you probably won't remember this. So we'll revisit it tomorrow."

#aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine x black!reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fic #I feel like I should just make a tangie tag at this point #jae writes

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gh0st-t0wn3 · 1 year ago

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Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 6 (Azure Lion, Peng, Yellowtusk)

(I originally made my own design of Azure and Yellowtusk but wasn't quite happy with how they turned out so I scrapped them, the designs for those two I used in these edits were made by @/erraday_ on twt, with a few minor changes, but Peng's design is my own :) )

- He/Him

- Pansexual

- Snores so loud, it's insane, Yellowtusk once thought there was an earthquake

- Feels bad whenever he's steps on a ladybug, butterfly etc

- Gives everyone and everything giant bear hugs because he thinks if Yellowtusk can take it, so can everyone else (They cannot)

- Mei once gave him catnip as a joke and he went fucking feral, he's not allowed near catnip anymore

- His hair/fur is actually very soft and curly

- Thought he saw an old friend while out in public and hugged them, it was a stranger

- Wakes up Yellowtusk in the middle of the night to ask stupid questions

- The Brotherhood asked to hear his roar but he got really nervous last second and it ended up being really meek, they never let him forget it

- Coughed up a hairball once and Peng refuses to let him live it down

- Has eaten cat food before and would do it again

- Cannot do the splits and is too scared to try

- Gets really confused by modern slang, MK and Mei abuse the hell out of it because it's funny

- Whenever he's rough housing with people he accidentally hits a bit too hard

- Whenever he walks past anyone playing a game that involves a ball (football, basketball, netball, etc) he somehow always ends up getting hit in the head with it

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he wouldn't know what the fuck to do and would be really awkward cause he doesn't know how to interact with children, he'd be able to bond with Redson better when he becomes a teenager though

- No one gossips with him because he always ends up unintentionally outing someone about something

- Ate moldy food once by accident and freaked out, he was absolutely disgusted

- Hates horror movies but loves slashers

- Drinks mouthwash

- Smells like catnip (trust me guys)

- Love language is words of affirmation

- Has horrible bed head, his mane gets tangled really easily and he tosses around a lot at night so his mane takes hours to brush out

- Absolutely refuses to wear shoes, they hurt his feet (paws?)

- The type of person to cry over a movie about a dog getting lost and then finding its owner at the end

- Can somehow eat an entire goddamn buffet and not gain a single pound

- His face always scrunches up when he smiles

- Lost his balance on a hill and fell down like a tumbleweed once, Peng still brings it up

- They/He (Canon, Peng uses They/Them in the show but is exclusively referred to w/ He/Him in the sets)

- Nonbinary (Canon)

- Starts squaking when he laughs too much

- If you throw a blanket over their head he'll immediately fall asleep

- "look behind you but don't make it obvious" Looks behind him in the most exaggerated, obvious way known to mankind

- Stole food from Wukong's private stash for several months when the Brotherhood was all still together, Wukong still doesn't know

- Wukong gave them cooked chicken once as a joke but he actually liked it

- Constantly argues with Wukong about Macaque not being able to hold his own, yes it got physical

- Their wings have a bunch of scars from the amount of weapons and shit they block with them. Has to consistently clean their wings in order to keep them from getting too damaged, yes this includes softening and preening his feathers

- If they weren't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid they would tape him to the wall like that one meme and call it a day

- Bit off a person's finger once just to see if they could

- Doesn't shop, just steals

- "I hate you so fucking much" as he's handing the person a gift

- Tried to draw on Wukong's face once but got wacked with his tail

- Absolutely HATES beetroot, will actually gag if he smells it

- Kicks over kids sand castles at the beach

- Can't stand small buzzing sounds

- "I'm not that competitive" is that competitive

- Claims you can trust them with anything but will snitch the second they know it will benefit them

- Probably threatened to eat someone's baby once

- Goes to playgrounds to trip kids

- Smells like Lavender, it just feels right

- Love language is words of affirmation and acts of service

- Has tried sleeping upside down like a bat multiple times

- Hardcore wine aunt vibes

- Had a bunch of ducklings accidently imprinted to him and they followed Peng for hours

- You'd have to pin this bird down to get them to eat collyflower

- Jokingly pushed Azure off a cliff once then remembered they're the only member of the Camel Ridge Trio that can fly

- They have full on concerts at like 3 am, has woken up Azure on multiple occasions

- He/Him

- AroAce

- Is the calmest one in the Brotherhood

- He uses Peng's head as an armrest sometimes

- He and DBK were actually quite close, he knew and accepted that DBK was in love with a celestial but was very surprised to see they ended up having a child

- Very poor eyesight but doesn't like wearing his glasses because Peng made a joke about them once saying he looked like a grandma

- Uses ":3" and ":D"

- Loves soap opera's

- Hates seafood

- Peng once tricked him into eating fish nuggets once and he still hasn't fully forgiven them

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he would definitely be the most responsible one, and probably Redson's favourite uncle

- Eats a snack then forgets he ate it and will bet frustrated when he can't find it

- The therapist of the Camel Ridge Trio, and probably of the whole Brotherhood in the past as well

- Was the only one who felt bad about imprisoning the Demon Bull Family since he and DBK were very close

- He also reprimanded Peng for when they pinned and scratched Redson with their claws after they left the Demon Bull Palace (he's the protective uncle, trust me guys)

- Hates getting hiccups, he despises the feeling and it gives him heartburn

- Wakes up at ungodly hours just to raid the fridge

- Heard a story about a bug crawling in someone's ear while they slept and has worn earplugs to bed ever since

- Loves apples

- Smells like Lilies

- Love language is gift giving

- Is really big on safety, would be the type of person to make sure everyone is wearing their seat belts before the car is even turned on

- Actually really good at cooking

- Makes the best chocolate chip pancakes ever

- Is the kind of person who assumes everyone tells eachother everything and accidently exposes someone because he thought everyone else knew about it already

- Always hears things wrong but doesn't wanna ask anyone to repeat themselves

- Has the most elegant ass handwriting you will ever see, somehow

- The peacemaker of the Brotherhood, they all would've disbanded way sooner if it wasn't for him

- Uses his trunk as a snorkle when swimming or sleeping underwater (elephants actually do this irl, I just thought it was cute)

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luveline · 2 years ago

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Hi I’ve never actually sent a request before so I hope I’m doing this right lol. I was so excited when I saw you wanted to more writing for the Steve zombie au before the established relationship. I die for grumpy pining. I was thinking maybe more reluctant comforting like maybe a thunderstorm or something or honestly just whatever you see fit. I love your writing and your Steve is unmatched. Either way request taken or not I’m sending all the love and good vibes.

hi! thank you for your request my love! steve zombie au —you and steve are surviving together when a freak storm begins, and he can’t stop himself from trying to make you feel better. fem!reader

"In," Steve ushers quickly, "in, in!"

You force yourself through a gap that's too small for you into the warehouse you've found and out of the rain, an instant bruise forming on your shoulder. You understand his hurry, but it really does hurt. He has similar trouble forcing himself inside.

Thunder cracks behind him. You jump hard at the sound. "It sounds like it's right on top of us," you say.

"It might be. Come on," he says, taking your arm into his icy hand, "this way."

Worried that the storm might be winds from a hurricane at the East Coast, you and Steve had immediately abandoned your plan to start walking up highway I-69 and backtracked to the last building you'd seen on the way, a packing house for toiletries. You hadn't bothered coming inside beforehand, neither of you in want of any necessities that aren't canned goods (or, imagine, fresh food).

You wish you had. Not only would the storm have started while you were already sheltered, but you might have been able to navigate the absolute shitshow of a floor plan without nearly breaking your neck.

You slip on a greasy patch of floor and Steve yanks you up. He doesn't do it to be cruel; if he hadn't pulled hard you would've fell flat on your face.

"Shit," he hisses.

"Sorry–"

"No, just– come on, this way," he says.

His hair is plastered to his face, soaked despite the hood of his coat and the beanie he'd been wearing, The rain is torrential and freezing cold, carrying a chill that permeates down to the bone. You're less wet than he was, as he'd taken the tarp you sleep under from his backpack and made you wear it like a poncho.

You don't know if he hates you, when he does stuff like that. He certainly doesn't like you. You figure he resents you for saving his life and not having the grace to insist you part ways. How could you? Everybody was running away, fleeing from the geek cul-de-sac Indiana had become, and nobody who wanted anything to do with you had survived the initial wave. You'd been completely alone, terrified, and you'd risked your life to save him anyways. So when he asked if you were alone, you were honest. When he said, You better come with me, then, you didn't think about it for a minute.

He probably regrets it in moments like this. And it's worse because you like him. Hero worship, maybe, Steve keeps keeping you alive and you want him to like you more and more every day.

It's why you hate fucking up. You just want him to see you properly, and not as a girl he has to protect. You want him to know you can protect him back.

You take the initiative and lead him toward the back of the huge room. He doesn't protest. You figure a corner of the structure would be safer than the middle where the ceiling could sag, and away from the centre of the walls where big windows lined with metal shutters sit.

Together, you knock coffee pots and plastic cups off of a long table and drag it toward the corner to use as a make shift shield. It's the most protection you can get.

You sit down, relieved. It can't be ten seconds until your body remembers how cold it is, soaked as you are.

You already know what to do, and despite the shyness that comes with stripping in front of a boy, and especially a boy that you like, you undress anyways. Shoes first, then your coat. Steve starts to do the same, and you try not to look at one another.

There are lots of things you worry about, but the stupidest one is body hair. You can't help it —when hair removal is engrained in the feminine experience from birth, it becomes a habit. It's not even that you think it's bad, but you worry that Steve thinks it's gross. Then you remember how many times you've heard one another pee and shake your head at yourself.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks, shirtless as he pulls his second (and last) pair of jeans over tacky legs.

You're shirtless too. "Nothing."

"Your bra is wet."

You look down at your bra and blink. It's cold, and everyone knows what happens when it's cold and you're braless. "It's the only one I have, I don't wanna flash you."

"You…" He cracks a very rare smile. It's a twitch of the corner of his lips and nothing more, but it helps you to relax. "I'm not trying anything, but you should take it off. You can wear my hoodie if you're uncomfortable."

"I guess it's dumb to care."

"I don't think it's dumb," he says, his head craned as another crack of thunder bellows outside. "You deserve to feel comfortable. I won't look, I swear, I just don't want you to be cold." He looks away from you. "You'll get sick. Then we'd be really fucked."

You nod. You slip out of your bra and put on your second (and last) t-shirt, which is thinner than the first. You shove your arms in his hoodie but don't zip it closed.

Steve takes the blanket from his pack and, now wearing his shirt and fresh socks, slots himself next to you and pulls the blanket over your laps. It's an odd juxtaposition: he worries about your privacy but not your personal space.

"I think it's getting worse," you mumble, head tilted to the side as you listen to the wind roar.

"We'll be okay."

You put your hand on your thigh. He puts his hand on his. You slouch against the wall and know you won't be getting any sleep tonight, not while the wind rails.

Time passes like a dragging weight. You wince at every loud whoosh of air, and can't help leaning into Steve's side when somewhere in the warehouse a machine begins to creak. The cold bites your nose, and your toes are stiff despite your new socks.

You and Steve don't talk much, but eventually he speaks up.

"Do you need another pair of socks?" he asks.

"No, it's okay."

"I won't mind," he says.

"What if you need them?"

He gets them out of his pack and tosses them into your lap. You take them, but the wind has seized you up, afraid that any minute now you'll get a storm surge.

"Hurricanes can't get this far in, can they?" you ask quietly.

"No. I don't think so."

You nod your head. "It's loud."

"I know."

You put his socks on and try to be level-headed. You think it might be the constant heavy stress that surviving in the wild and against the threat of flesh-eating creatures has put you under that's made you so fragile. A storm wouldn't have scared you this severely before. But your brain is under fire basically every second of the day, even in your sleep, and it weakens your resolve. You've never understood how Steve can be strong in the face of all this awful.

"It'll be okay," he says again.

"No, I know…" you say. You don't know, but you don't want to bother him. "I'm fine."

Thunder cracks at exactly the wrong moment, simultaneous with a sound like a window rattling in its frame. You flinch at his side, your hand jumping on his thigh.

You go to pull it away and he flattens it to his leg.

"It's okay," he says, his sternness melting into a softer reassurance. His hair lays in damp curls below his ears, and his face is pale from a lack of sun. "It's just wind. We don't get hurricanes, and if we did, the walls are concrete. You think wind and rain can get through three feet of stone?"

He lets your hand go. You take it as a queue to remove it.

"Sorry, I don't know why I…"

Steve clears his throat. "You're not–" He couldn't know what you were going to say about yourself, and you have no idea what he might've said himself. "You don't have to be sorry. For this, anyways. You should be super sorry about other stuff, like losing your pen knife, and trying to convince me to eat that frog," —he pauses as you laugh, the hint of a smile playing on his lips— "but don't bother being sorry about this."

"People eat frogs," you say quietly, leaning your head against the wall and looking at him through one eye.

He follows your example and sits the same. After a moment, he pulls the slipped blanket up to your stomach again. "I don't care what people eat. I'm not eating frogs."

"I didn't want to eat one either," you say. You hadn't. "They do eat them, though."

"I'm sure they do. Cooked, and with spices. Not raw and covered in dirt. And dead."

You'd only been joking about eating the frog, but you were both hungry enough to stare at it for a half-second too long.

Rain drums the ceiling like a far away thrumming. You know you must look awful, wet and dirty. You'd managed to brush your teeth this morning at the very least, but you can't imagine you're the kind of girl Steve would ever want, then or now.

His gaze dips to your neck. It rests there.

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he says, stilted once again. "Things… things will be okay. They'll get better. We have to make it out of here."

Steve has people he needs to find. You'll follow him anywhere at this point, not for love, but he's a good guy, even if he glares more than he talks. He knows how to protect you both. He does stuff he doesn't have to do, like this. His vaguely awkward comfort. His extra socks.

"I know," you say. "We'll be fine."

He nods. You tell yourself that you're imagining the tenderness he puts into such a simple gesture. “Exactly. You worry too much.”

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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cyanidedrinkers · 4 months ago

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Will someone ever match my freak ;-;

Because i feel like theres not a lot about Patches Wolverine and Hooded Deadpool (Idk if they're in the same universe but like- They fit.) Hooded Deadpool being hired as a bodyguard for a few games, Bored out of his mind intel he sees a very handsome man in a white coat Patches Wolverine who could care less about gambling but needed another outlet then smoking and drinking. He promised his daughter he'd stop Hooded Deadpool who memorizes when the man comes in and wears increasingly more skimpy outfits but keeps the hood and mask Patches Wolverine who notices a body guard whos a little to friendly and always shoos the man off, Wondering where he's seen that mask before Patches Wolverine who pisses off one to many people and starts a fight Hooded Deadpool who steps in with his slit dress and stilettos to de-escalate the situation Overly drunk and angry mob men who deck Hooded Deadpool in the face only to have an entire clip unloaded into them Hooded Deadpool who only complains that his dress got unnecessarily ripped during it all as he drags the bodies out back Patches Wolverine who helps the weird hooded man because it was his fault that he started the fight Hooded Deadpool who takes this opportunity to talk to olders ear off Patches Wolverine who finds the excessive talking annoying but gets a good laugh out of the man so he puts up with it Hooded Deadpool who makes it a point to stay close to Patches any time he comes in Hooded that get entertains one of the men at Patches table as they flirt with him Hooded Deadpool visibly uncomfortable as the man gets handsy but cant do anything because he's on shift Patches who gets defensive and grabs Hooded by the waist, Pulling him closer because god damnit thats his hypersexual bodyguard. Hooded and Patches who grow close and end up having gross, disgusting, downright questionable naught time in the bathroom Patches realizing where he remembers the mask from and starts to pull away as all his previous feelings about Wade come crashing back Hooded who becomes sad that Patches is pulling away Patches who keeps his distance only to snap at one of the men at the table when they make some comment Hooded's skin, Remembering how it made Wade uncomfortable Patches who drags Hooded home one day in his car after a particularly nasty fight Hooded who refuses to take off the mask even while in Patches home, Infront of Mini-ine Patches who tells Wade to stay because who knows damn well that man doesnt have anything but a shoe box and some guns to go back to Patches who keeps telling Wade to stay Patches who cooks Hooded breakfast each morning and takes Wade on grocery runs, and take him to drop off Laura Hooded who can't help but swoon for Logan like he did back then Hooded who tries to pretend to be oblivious to who Patches is Logan who becomes more defensive about what Wade wears, Scared that someone will become to handsy Wade who yells at him one day telling Patches that he can wear whatever he wants Logan who yells back that he doesnt like it when other men grab at him or flirt with him Wade who hisses that "I'm not yours" Logan who bites back "But i wish you were" Wade and Logan who tackle each other into a much needed kiss and spend the rest of the day intel they need to pick up Laura talking and kissing, and being soft with eachother Wade who flirts with other patrons knowing it makes Logan mad when he's upset with him Logan who buys Wade a collar, A discreet one, and has Wade wear it whenever he goes into his shift Patrons who die or wish they did whenever they overstep and try to take whats Patches or make one to many jokes about the mutants boyfriend Logan and Wade who are dysfunctional but match eachothers freak and make one hell of a team becoming domestic in their own weird way Laura who knew it was Wade the moment Logan first told her about the bodyguard and just accepted that Wades gonna be a recurring person in her life

#deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool #deadclaws #wade x logan #wade wilson #wolviepool #loganpool #poolverine

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jumpywhumpywriter · 3 months ago

Text

Living Weapon Whumpee part 21

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, recovery whump, reluctant alliance, rejection by peers, betrayal

He could rest easy knowing Jake wouldn't be retaliating in the night.

The next day the routine went on like usual, still without Jake. Breakfast with the team, one training session, and then free time.

And free time is when Jake finally reappeared, Flint at his side.

Whumpee instinctively tensed up, stiff and alert with caution as he eyed the team leader warily.

But as Jake came closer to the group, Whumpee realized he was... limping? He peered closer, and could see bandaged wounds barely visible on his arms beneath the long-sleeve shirt he was wearing, despite it being uncomfortably warm in the room. He was wearing long pants too, which must be unbearably hot for him. Almost every bit of skin was covered.

But Whumpee could see some dark bruises and cuts on his face that couldn't be hidden, and Jake's eyes were wide and red-rimmed.

Flint marched him over to where Whumpee was sitting on the floor playing cards with Max, who was teaching him the basics of the game.

Jake looked like he was in a tremendous amount of pain for some reason, the lines of his face tight with agony, reflected in his eyes.

"Apologize," Flint growled firmly.

"Sorry," Jake whispered hoarsely to Whumpee, his voice no more than a shallow rasp of air. He didn't look cocky or arrogant anymore, he just looked... tired. So incredibly tired. His spirit dimmed, fire snuffed out.

Flint seemed satisfied with his response, and turned away from him dismissively, calm and collected as he walked toward the door. "And you, Reed--" he paused in the doorway -- "no trouble from you either. Understood?"

Reed gave a curt nod from where he stood, and Flint left.

The mood in the air was different now. Jake didn't say a single word, storming out the instant Flint was gone to head to the sleeping quarters.

Without thinking, Whumpee sprung up to follow, curiosity piqued. He left Max with the cards and trailed after Jake from a safe distance until he'd entered the sleeping quarters before daring to follow the rest of the way.

Jake was facing away from him, and had taken his shirt off to crawl into his bed, but Whumpee was shocked to see the several deep gashes torn across his back, treated with topical salve.

Jake was completely unaware of the living weapon's eyes on him as he tried to bend over and untie his shoes next -- before straightening with a pained hiss. He tried two more times with no success, the injuries wouldn't let him stretch that far without bolts of agony attacking him.

Whumpee cleared his throat awkwardly to make his presence known, and Jake whipped around with a hiss, before his eyes widened.

"What are you doing here?" He snarled viciously. But pain laced his voice.

Whumpee ignored the question, leaning on the doorframe and jerking his chin meaningfully at Jake's shredded body. "What happened?" He asked simply, voice flat.

"None of your business," Jake snapped angrily. "Go pick a fight with someone else, freak.”

Whumpee pushed upright from the doorframe, taking two menacing steps in Jake's direction. "You didn't seem to have much of a problem picking a fight with me yesterday," he rumbled. "Why should I listen to you?"

Jake backed up a few paces away from him, wincing with every step. "So what? You're going to get revenge now? Is that it?" He spat the words like poison, but a new sliver of fear crept into his voice.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 18 days ago

Note

helloooo!! i’ve read a few of your works, and i love the way you write the creeps! i was thinking of a laughing jack, candypop, and jason the toymaker x princess!reader (separately, not poly) the reader can also just be royalty if you want to make them gn :)

tysmm :)

Summary: Jason the toymaker, Candypop, and Laughing Jack with a princess reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!

A/n: I heart the clown trio, but they're so rarely requested <//3 I especially love Jason though :3

Credits: Laughing Jack- Creepypasta, Candypop- Creepypasta, Jason The Toymaker- Creepypasta, Pictures- Pinterest, Divider- @ kidcorebuggy

Laughing Jack

He doesn't really quite grasp human politics

Like he knows what they are, but he doesn't understand all of the formalities

So when he goes to events with you (depending on what kind of princess you are, he will most likely be in a human disguise) he gets very confused when seeing people practically drooling all over themselves while acting like you're the most fragile glass vase

But he also thinks it is very funny, and likes to make some of your guests mess up in minor ways just to see them freak out over something he thinks of as so silly

He also likes to go with you to see you in all of your clothes

Watching you get laced up in probably the 12th set of underskirts and corsets, seeing your dressers help you into your shoes, and finally seeing the tiara placed on your perfectly styled hair

Something about it just fills him with adoration for you and makes him fall in love all over again

Of course, he always has to get dressed up too, being your plus one to almost every event

But he does have his moments where he doesn't like your being a princess

He is a very big jokester, he loves to cause mischief and crack up with you

But due to your position, you have to always be seen as prim and proper

Of course, when you are alone you can be yourself, but as for public appearances it is very strict

But he gets his little moments here and there where there can be some mischief

His favorite is pulling you behind a curtain and coming out 30 minutes later with lipstick marks all over his face >:)

Candypop

Candypop sees your role as a princess as more of a character you play

Almost like a cosplay if that makes sense

And he likes to play the character too sometimes

What kind of character? The prince of course!

He acts like a whole new man when playing this role

Candypop is usually a pretty sassy, quick witted and confident guy

But when playing this role, he is the most princely prince you could ever hope for

He knows all the niche little mannerisms he has to adopt and oh baby, he DELIVERS

And when you're finally alone, he just goes back into his normal self like nothing happened

You like to tease him about it sometimes

"Aw, where'd my prince go?"

"I'm right here, doll" he'd say with a grin

Like Jack, he also likes to cause mischief

He might be playing a role, but he's still Candypop after all

His favorites ways to play little pranks is to the officials who consider themselves better than everyone else

Things like ripping their pants, whoopie cushions, etc make him giggle

And no one would ever suspect him because he's known as being so proper

Well, no one except you

And he can tell you know when you give him that little look out of the corner of your eye and a knowing smirk

Jason The Toymaker

Jason gets very excited to accompany you on your royal duties

He insists on helping you sew your dresses

And if he can't make it entirely himself, whilst you are getting dressed you will be able to see him walking around you, occasionally commenting about how the seams aren't sewn tight enough or how a color change would have made the fit look better

Of course, he still thinks you look gorgeous anyways

He is just very picky in what he wants you wearing, only the best!

You can literally be giving a speech and you will feel his hand on your back, using his mini scissors he keeps on him to snip off a loose thread

Surprisingly, he is the only one you won't be able to get into a prince's suit

He's too busy making sure you look good

And I think he'd rather die than wear something he didn't make

Trying to get him into any princely attire is like trying to bathe a cat

But he is more than happy to be announced as "The Royal Stylist" instead!

He would much rather take the background than the spotlight anyways

Though, this does put a little bit of a strain on the relationship, because it would be most improper of the princess to be caught smooching up on her stylist

But it can make it a bit more exciting too

IMAGINE! He is lacing up your corset when a group of important advisors walk in to talk to you

And while they are talking, he continues his work

What your advisors see as him just doing his job, he is actually rubbing your hips lovingly, placing his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a clip, gracing your shoulder with his hand, etc

giggles and kicks my feet and screams xDDD

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #jason the toymaker x reader #jason the toymaker #laughing jack x you #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack #candy pop x reader #candy pop

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yippeeometer · 4 months ago

Note

Idk if these are considered rare pairs, but here are some of my fav rare pair ships :D

FlouiSconsin (FL/LA/WI)

FloYork

TexYork

Texas/Wyoming/Montana

*you don't have to answer any of these, please do not feel forced to :D*

gonna answer all of them try that on for size

FLOUISCONSIN:

u just know theyre the ones throwing the new years party and its literally insane. typa guys to craft a massive stone boulder so they can actually say the ball dropped on the new year. typa guys to be researching haunted things on ebay to make halloween parties realistic.

their nights out should be classed as an olympic sport. Yeah you may have won a gold medal for sprinting but 1000% 3 drunk guys being chased by a zoo animal they accidentally let escape are faster than you.

something tells me they'd be the scariest people to sit near. theyre always giggling. always watching. what can they possibly be talking about.

they own like 2 pairs of real shoes between all of them and then just various non matching crocs

since sconsin has to be soooo far from the other two they just constantly have him on facetime. all day. theyre joining in on midwest arguments they know nothing about. theyre tattling to the south as soon as any drama goes down.

FLOYORK:

they serve couple-that-isnt-divorced-but-should-be vibes. theyre SICKENING omg two of the most insane people youve ever met.

we dont play around enough w the true extent of flo's madness he'd probably fill york's room w rats bc he heard that he likes them and york, matching his freak perfectly, would find it romantic. everyone else looks on in horror.

flo turns up at northeast meetings like an in-law at family gatherings to watch the drama. he definitely has a twitter account called 'weird shit my husband's family has fought over'

two strange guys with strange passions for animals. theres a collection of gator-sized sweaters in their closet that york gives flo whenever they argue (frequently)

'youre a snowbird' 'youre a leaf peeper' have you considered youre insufferable.

TEXYORK:

i acc love this ship youre never alone when yippeeometer is at the shipyard

theyre gonna be a slow-burn but in the sense that york's natural way of speaking is in one-word sentences and texas (daddy issues galore) would instantly be freaked out. local northeast man now befuddled how his flirting is not being picked up on.

oh god theyre sooooo awkward around each other. southern hospitality vs 'i can f*cking do it myself' northeast. match made in hell. hate them. no one knows how to communicate but also its sooo not casual when he begged u to come down to his ranch so he could teach u horseback riding. was it casual when he stopped the whole 'more than a city' shtick bc he wanted to show ONLY u around.

abnormal behaviour galore.... daddy issues galore..... typa guys where theres two wolves inside them (must protect him) (ab to get soooo vulnerable around him)

TX/WY/MT

cowboys!

typa guys where their only way of flirting is through the medium of horses. this is my horse shes called angel. yeah she fast. want to ride my horse? no seriously you have to ride my horse. u can even wear my hat when u do it but its totally chill or whatever....

its actually not chill they all compete at rodeos against each other and they WILL make it ur problem when it ruins the relationship.

farmer men..... farmer men..... grrrrrr what a yeild of crops..... just got some cows...... u can see them if u want...... u can stay in my bed.....

montana would have such fun with mr. 'pay attention to me or i die' texas and mr. 'no one look at me or ill kill myself' wy. sat at the table trying to maintain eye contact constantly with one whilst completely ignoring the other to not make the whole relationship obvious (its the most obvious thing in the world.)

#wttt #welcome to the statehouse #wttsh #wttt headcanons #wttt new york #wttt texas #wttt montana #wttt wyoming #wttt florida #wttt louisiana #wttt wisconsin

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ironychan · 6 months ago

Text

Scary Monsters

@dysphoria-sweatshirt @30spiders @sweatersexual @angrylittlesliceofpizza @writer652

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Part 2/? - School for Monsters

Part 3/? - The Waternoose Family

Part 4/? - The Terrifying Humans

Part 5/? - Hiding Places

Part 6/? - Nobody’s Fault

Part 7/? - Edge of Disaster

Part 8/? - Caged Monsters

Part 9/? - The Journey Home

Part 10/? - Portorosso

Part 11/? - A New Family

Part 12/? - More Obstacles

Part 13/? - Out and About in Genova

As a note, both San Francesco di Paola and the Palazzo Spinola are real places in Genoa, and if you ever visit they're worth a stop. Also check out the aquarium, which not only has adorable catsharks but is also where the world premier of Luca was held!

---

Giulia started to run to the window for a look, but her mother grabbed her and held her back.

"Don't!" Helena exclaimed. "There's broken glass on the floor, and we're all in our bare feet!"

Giulia growled in frustration. "Get dressed, ragazzi," she ordered, pointing a finger at the boys. "We've gotta find him!"

"Where's he gonna go?" Luca asked, as they ran back to their own room to get their things. "He doesn't know where anything is in Genova, and I don't think his kind of monster has that extra sense where they can find their way back to places. The first time we took him through town he was in the pram and could barely see, and the second time he was in the suitcase!"

"He can't even ask anybody for help," Alberto agreed. "Anyone who sees him is going to freak out."

"Then he can't go far!" said Giulia firmly. She opened a dresser drawer and started pulling clothing out. "We'll find him. If he's smart, he'll stick to the roofs."

"I'm not sure he's smart," Alberto said cynically.

Somewhere outside, a dog began to bark. Luca lit up.

"I've got an idea!" he declared.

Helena put her shoes on and set to work cleaning up the remains of the broken window, while the kids got dressed and went straight to the neighbour's home where Helena had dropped off Nerone the dog. Giulia knocked hard on the door and called out.

"Signor Traverso! It's Giulia!"

After a few seconds they heard stumbling footsteps and the bolt slid back. The door cracked open, and Signor Traverso, a tall, skinny man whose face was mostly moustache, blinked down at them. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour?" he asked through a yawn.

"We're here to pick up Nerone!" Giulia replied, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to be doing after midnight. The boys on either side of her nodded.

Signor Traverso blinked sleepily. "What? Now? It's..." he glanced at his wrist, but was not wearing a watch. A moment later, however, a clock somewhere nearby chimed twice. "It's two in the morning."

"Yep! Right now." Giulia nodded and smiled, making it silently clear that she would not explain.

Signor Traverso must have been too tired to argue about it. He shut the door again, and came back a few minutes later with the dog on his lead. Nerone himself was perfectly happy to be awake in the middle of the night, perhaps unsurprising for a creature who spent most of his days napping. He trotted up on his short legs, and greeted Luca and Giulia with happy licks. Alberto, of course, he didn't know as well, but he seemed happy enough that this was another friend of his humans. Perhaps Alberto smelled enough like Luca to satisfy him.

"Thank you, Signor Traverso! We owe you one!" Giulia waved cheerfully as they headed for the stairwell.

"Good ni... good night, Signorina Marcovaldo," the man replied, having to pause in the middle of the sentence for another yawn.

On the next landing, Luca pulled out an object he'd brought with him - Harry's little sailor cap. "Okay, Nerone," he said, offering it to the dog. "Smell this."

Nerone leaned towards it, his shiny black nose twitching as he took in the scent. Then he shook his head and backed away, disgusted.

"Yeah, he knows who that belongs to," said Alberto.

"Can you find him for us?" Giulia asked. "Can you find Harry?"

They made to continue down the stairs, and Nerone seemed to get the idea quickly. He began straining at his leash to run ahead, bouncing eagerly down the steps towards the street with his hindquarters sometimes nearly trying to overtake his head on the way. The kids ran to follow him, and he led them back to the street and uphill to the building where Giulia and her mother lived.

The apartments were built around a little courtyard that resembled a medieval cloister, though much smaller, with a covered walkway bordering an open rectangle with potted plants and a tiny fountain. The window in the bathroom looked out over this, which meant that after breaking it, Harry would have climbed out onto the walkway roof, and from there would have been able to drop to ground level. It was easy to spot the broken window. Helena had the light on as she finished cleaning up.

They led the dog to the most likely place where Harry would have landed, and directed him to sniff the ground. Nerone was willing enough to do so, turning in a circle with his nose to the ground and his tail perked up. Whatever he smelled, he didn't seem to like it, and made the same disgusted face as he had at Harry's hat.

"Yes, that's right!" Luca urged. "Now, follow him!"

Nerone started sniffing at one of the potted plants. The kids watched him, waiting for him to do something, but he took his time, moving from one plant to another and stopping to pee on one of the pots.

"What's taking him so long?" Alberto complained.

Helena's face appeared in the window above them. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"We're trying to get Nerone to track him by smell," Luca explained. "Like in the movies."

Helena frowned. "You... you do know that those dogs have to be specially trained for that, right?"

Luca had not, in fact, known that. He looked at his friends to see what they thought. It was pretty clear they were surprised, too.

"Nerone's barely trained to wait five minutes while I open a can of dog food," said Helena.

"Oh." Luca's shoulders slumped. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I thought that was a good idea."

"It sounded like a good idea," Giulia agreed, and grimaced as the sound of more barking came from elsewhere in the city. "The dogs are really upset tonight. It's..." her eyes widened. "Of course!"

Luca had the same thought at the same time. "Nerone doesn't like Harry! Neither did the gelato man's dog!"

"Come on!" said Alberto.

Helena lived in the San Teodoro district. The sound of barking was coming from the south, closer to the harbour. The kids ran through the narrow, twisting streets. Because Genova was so much bigger than Portorosso and the people there worked at less demanding jobs, it had a nightlife that the smaller town lacked. There were a surprising number of people out and about, even as 'late' turned into 'early'. People and cars were in the streets, and the windows were bright in bars and dance clubs.

Nerone didn't know what was going on and certainly had never understood that the kids wanted help finding a missing monster, but he did know they were going for a run and that was one of his favourite things. Furthermore, they were running towards other dogs who were barking up a storm, and that was something he definitely wanted to be apart of. He sprinted along with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, letting out an occasional yap of his own to let the others know he was on his way.

"What is their problem tonight?" a woman asked, as the group ran past a restaurant entrance.

"No idea," said one of the friends with her, lighting a cigarette. "They're sure excited about something."

Nerone barked again as they got closer, and then, from up ahead, they heard a scream.

The kids had been getting tired at this point, but now they found a second wind as they sprinted the last few metres to turn the corner into the piazza in front of San Francesco da Paola. Several dogs were barking at something wrong the buildings, and one unfortunate man who'd been taking his spinone for a late-night walk was holding on to the leash with both hands as it tried to get free to bark at Harry, who was standing in front of the metal doors of the church with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What in god's name are you?" the man with the dog demanded.

"I'm a monster!" snapped Harry, annoyed. "Now, take me to the train station, and I won't hurt you!"

"What are you going to do?" asked the man, "gnaw my ankles?"

Harry responded by hissing and scurrying towards him with his arms held up. The man yelped in terror and ran, dragging his dog behind him even as the animal continued to bark.

"Chicken!" Harry shouted after him.

The kids came running up. Harry looked towards the sound of people approaching, then yelped as he realized these ones were likely to trap him in a suitcase again. He turned to run, but Nerone bit into one of his many legs, prompting a pained screech from Harry, and the boys grabbed his arms while Giulia got the dog off him.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Alberto.

"Going home!" snapped Harry. "You can't tell me what to do. Neither can any of these humans - they're all too scared to do anything. Ercole was too scared to even tell me not to sleep in his room. He would do anything I told him to! He needed you guys to take me away for him!" he huffed, and then stood up straighter. "These humans are so easy to scare I don't know why my Dad even bothers with the door thing. We could just come right in and scare them all, and they wouldn't dare do anything about it!"

"Yes, they will," Luca insisted.

"They totally will," Alberto agreed.

The bronze doors of the church of San Francesco da Paola and the adjoining mendicant monastery had been closed for the night. Now they opened a crack and a monk in his dark habit stuck his head out. "What is going on out here?" he asked. "You children should be in bed, not roaming the streets."

"Shut up!" Harry said, and spun around to snarl at the man.

The monk stared, then made the sign of the cross and slammed the door again.

"See?" Harry turned back to the other kids. "Just because you're not scary enough to make them do what you want..." he began.

Then they heard a renewal of barking. A light came on in a building across the piazza, and a voice shouted, "in front of San Francesco!"

"Come on!" Alberto tugged on Harry's arm. "We gotta go!"

"No!" snarled Harry. "Watch - they'll do whatever I want!"

The man with the spinone appeared around the corner again, his shaggy black and grey dog barking excitedly as it pointed its nose towards Harry. "There!" he shouted.

A policeman was the next to step out, and by he light of the streetlamps the kids could see a half-a-dozen other people behind him, men and women both. Some of these gasped at the sight of Harry, while one woman exclaimed, "my God! What is it?"

The policeman put his whistle in his mouth and blew it to summon help. "You kids!" the policeman pointed. "Get away from that thing!"

"Wait!" Luca held up his hands. "We can explain!"

Harry pushed past him. "Everybody!" he addressed the gathered humans. "My name is Harry Waternoose and I'm..."

The policeman stepped forward and kicked Harry in the face.

This was a shock to the kids, but to nobody moreso than Harry himself, who staggered backwards with his hands over his bloodied nose. "Who do you think you..." he began, then had to duck as the policeman swung at him again.

Behind him, the doors of San Francesco opened again, and half a dozen monks came out, carrying bibles, crosses, and censures - and two carrying the tall metal candelabras that were used to light the church for night services. These were over six feet tall and well able to be used as weapons. The abbot, marked out by his broad black hat, strode towards Harry with a cross held out, repeating a prayer.

Harry didn't know what any of that meant. He backed away from it, but that brought him closer to the policeman, who had his truncheon out. Two more police, another man and a woman, had arrived, and various other people were gathering with improvised weapons. He looked around. The piazza was shaped like a triangle, with the wide end towards the north. There was another road there, leading uphill - the one Luca, Alberto, and Giulia had come down. Harry started to head towards them, but then there was another chorus of barking dogs.

The kids looked back. Another policeman was coming from that way, with a couple more people behind him. There was now only one way to go, and that was south, where a brick path wound its way down a very steep hill towards the harbour.

Giulia knew Genova well enough to know, however, that the winding road wasn't the only way down. She rolled up her sleeves, transferring Nerone's leash from hand to hand as she did.

By now it had gotten through to Harry that he was in terrible trouble. He hunkered down in the middle of the piazza and covered his head as people got closer.

"Don't hurt me!" he begged. "I'm sorry! Don't hurt me!"

"Grab him and then follow me," Giulia ordered, and took off for the path.

The boys dived on Harry. Alberto took the monster boy’s left arm and Luca his right, and then they just kept going, dragging him past the startled and shouting people and the policeman ordering them to stop. They followed Giulia as she passed by the gates of the walled garden at the south end of the monastery and rounded the corner. The path continued there, turning right to hug the side of the steep hill, but Giulia didn’t go that way. Instead, she and Nerone ran up to a green wooden door in the wall on the left side. Giulia threw herself against this and it burst open, revealing a steep dirt track that went directly down through the trees, bypassing the winding road.

The boys dashed through, Harry scuttling as hard as he could to keep up with them, and Giulia slammed the gate behind them. The path was not an easy one for people in a hurry, and the group ended up doing more sliding than running. The main route went right, to join back up at the road with another door, but Giulia turned left and went through the trees. This wasn’t much easier, but at least by holding on to branches and shrubs they could keep from falling down.

The trail brought them between a pair of apartment buildings and into a small garden, divided from the road by a tall fence. Alberto, Luca, and Harry climbed over, and Giulia hefted the dog over the top for Alberto to catch. Then she scaled it like a lizard on a wall and jumped down the other side, and all of them, including Nerone, were able to stop and catch their breath.

“We can’t stay too long,” Giulia cautioned. “They’ll figure out where we went eventually.”

The sound of voices shouting and more barking dogs told the boys that she was right, but they spent a few more moments leaning on the fence, breathing hard and trying to swallow the metallic taste of exertion in their mouths. Harry was in the worst shape of all, holding on to the fence with both hands as he panted.

“They weren’t afraid of me,” he whimpered finally.

Giulia rolled her eyes, but then she reached out and patted his back. “Yes, they were,” she said. “That was the problem – they were scared to death. When humans are scared of something and it’s just one or two of us, we run away, but when there’s more, we get together to hurt it before it can hurt us.

Luca nodded. “That’s what happened to us, too. We got rained on in front of the whole town, and if it hadn’t been for Giulia and her dad I dunno what would have happened.”

“Yeah, we never even threatened them or anything,” Alberto agreed. “Unlike some people.”

“What did Giulia and her dad do?” asked Harry. “Did they fight them?” He looked both hopeful that this was the case and skeptical that it could be.

“No,” said Luca at once. “They just reminded everybody that we’d been there all along and never tried to hurt them.”

“Although Massimo would have fought them all if he had to!” Alberto said proudly.

“So why didn’t you just tell all those humans I wouldn’t hurt them?” Harry asked.

“They wouldn’t have listened. They don’t know us,” Giulia pointed out. “Everybody in Portorosso listens to my dad because they’ve known him forever. Genova is too big for that. Nobody here even knows about Luca, except for the teachers and a couple of friends we really trust.”

“Remember Dorotea and her mom?” asked Luca. “They don’t even know.”

“Also, you actually were threatening to hurt people,” Alberto reminded Harry.

Harry hung his head. “No wonder Dad doesn’t want humans to know about us.”

That was a sobering thought. If the parents of the world knew that there really were monsters in their children’s closets, they would probably camp there waiting for them, just like Luca and Alberto had in Rocco’s room... except that the parents would bring harpoons or even guns and that would make everything so much worse. None of the kids had been born yet when the War had happened, but all had heard the way the adults talked about it. Even the sea monsters, who weren’t involved, had been affected by the warships and submarines. Nobody wanted anything like that to ever happen again, and a war across two worlds, between humans and monsters who really had nothing to fight about besides that each found the other frightening, would be both terrible and pointless.

“I wanna go home,” Harry complained.

“Like... home home?” Luca asked cautiously. “Back to your world?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Giulia stood up and brushed off her hands on the seat of her shorts. “Let’s go, then.”

There were several close calls as they crept through the narrow streets of the city back up the hill towards Helena’s apartment. Fortunately, Genova was a positive maze of winding medieval streets, and every time they were almost caught, they were able to find a trash bin or a side street where they could crouch in the shadows until danger had passed.

They arrived to find Helena, still in her nightgown and slippers, pacing anxiously in front of the entrance to her building. A man across the street came out the door of his cafe to leave the garbage for pickup, and spared a worried glance for her, but seemed to decide not to intervene. He brushed his hands off and went back inside, locking the door behind him.

Once he was out of sight, the kids hurried out to meet Giulia’s mother, who greeted them all with hugs – even Harry.

“What were you thinking,” she asked him, as she got a hold of the rambunctious dog. Nerone was wagging his tail, not knowing anything about what had just happened except that it had been an unexpected adventure.

Harry didn’t answer.

“Hes’ fine,” said Giulia. “He says he wants to go home now.”

Harry nodded miserably, and Helena patted his shoulder.

“I hope you’ve learned an important lesson, young... monster,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, cowed.

Upstairs, Helena had cleaned the bathroom floor and taped some plastic up over the window so that the birds and insects couldn’t come inside, so there was nothing more to do but send everybody back to bed. Nobody said very much, although Luca did wonder what would happen if Harry tried to escape again. He probably wouldn’t, but what if his change in demeanour was just an act?

It seemed he needn’t have worried, though. Come morning, Harry was still there, and was still very quiet as he ate his breakfast. They did not discuss what had happened last night. Once the meal was finished, Luca and Alberto helped clean up the dishes, while Giulia and her mother packed up the things they would need for their ruse.

They had decided it would look best if the kids wore school uniforms. Alberto borrowed one of Luca’s, choosing the short-sleeved jacket so it wouldn’t be obvious that his arms were a little too long for it. It was a bit narrow across the chest, too, restricting his movement, but the part he really didn’t like was the necktie.

“You really have to wear this every day?” he grumbled, tugging at it.

“You get used to it,” Luca assured him.

“All right,” said Helena. She was in work clothes – a pair of paint-spattered overalls and a man’s striped shirt, with her hair tied back under a kerchief. “Is everybody ready?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Luca. Harry just nodded.

“Let me do the talking,” Helena told them. She unzipped the suitcase for Harry to climb in. “Unless somebody asks you something directly, and even then you can just say you don’t want to talk to strangers if that’ll help. I’m the one who knows the people in there.”

The kids agreed. Harry curled up inside the suitcase without complaint this time, and they trundled their way down the hill and around the harbour to the Palazzo Spinola. Luca had read about this place in a newspaper, and couldn’t resist the urge to talk about what he’d learned to his friends as they wound through the tangle of increasingly dim and claustrophobic streets in the old city centre.

“The building is almost four hundred years old,” he told Alberto. “Like Singora Marcovaldo said, it used to have a third floor, but that got bombed during the war.”

Alberto frowned. “How did they bomb the third floor without getting the ones under it, too?”

“I dunno,” said Luca. “A few years ago, the owners gave the whole thing to the city, along with all the paintings and furniture in it. It used to be somebody’s house, so that somebody probably would have had kids and it makes sense that the monsters would have portals into their closets.”

“Not so loud!” Giulia said, as a woman passed them with a dog on a leash. The dog sniffed at the suitcase, its ears back, but its owner hurried it along.

“Sorry,” Luca said. He leaned down a bit to whisper to the suitcase. “You okay, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Harry muttered. “Are we almost there yet?”

“Almost,” said Helena.

The main facade of the palace was on the Piazza di Pellicceria, which was a wide-open public space by the standards of the cramped medieval part of Genova, but tiny to people used to the Piazza Calvino in Portorosso. The main entrance was boarded up and covered with scaffolding for the restoration work, so Helena walked right past it and around the side, to yet another very narrow and dark alleyway that reminded Luca and Alberto of an underwater trench. Buildings rose up like cliffs on either side, and only a few thin shafts of sunshine managed to make their way down through the forest of roofs and chimneys above.

Here was a door with a sign on it that said Avviso: Solo Personale Autorizzato, and a bored-looking security guard standing next to it doing a newspaper puzzle. He looked up and smiled.

“Buongiorno, Signora Marcovaldo,” he said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

“I called ahead to management,” Helena replied. “Signor Zaccaria said I could bring my daughter and her school friends. They’re supposed to get pictures of a historical landmark this summer, and they’re very excited to see one that nobody else can get into.”

The kids did their best to look enthusiastic.

“Well, be careful,” the guard warned them. “Don’t touch anything. There’s a lot of damage in there – and one of the upstairs rooms is supposed to be haunted!” He winked.

“That’s great!” said Alberto.

“Yeah! Imagine if we get to show the class a real ghost!” Giulia clutched her camera.

“They’re prepared,” Helena told the guard.

The man unlocked the door for them, and they headed inside.

The outside of the Palazzo was fairly drab. Some of the fancy plasterwork had survived the war, but especially around the sides and back there was little to distinguish it from the humbler buildings nearby. Inside, the first floor was being used to store building supplies and old furniture covered in cloth. They passed that by and went up the first flight of stairs.

The second floor had been the Spinola family’s living area at the height of their wealth. It was now dusty and mostly unfurnished, with broken mirrors and missing light fixtures, and in one large room the entire frescoed ceiling had fallen down. People were laying out the bits of plaster on a drop cloth to reassemble the image like a jigsaw puzzle. Yet for all the ruin, it was clear that this building had once been magnificent. There were fancy tiles and marble mosaics on the floor, dozens of hooks on the ways for hanging giant mirrors and paintings, and places for fancy lights and chandeliers. What was left was almost nothing like the old black and white photographs from the newspaper, and yet Luca could see where that grandeur had once been.

Giulia was impressed, too. She raised her camera and began taking pictures.

“This looks like Harry’s place after a tidal wave hit it,” was Alberto’s assessment.

“The haunted one is supposed to be the green room,” said Helena. “It should be through here.”

Like many of the grander buildings in the city, the palazzo was arranged around a small central courtyard, one room leading into another rather than wasting space by having them branch off a hallway. That made it easy to get confused as they seemed to turn corner after corner, but Helena knew where she was going and brought them to a room where the walls were a bright spring green. Much of the paint had now come away from the walls during the bombing, along with the plaster underneath, leaving bare brick walls. What little remained was mostly in the corners and along the street-facing wall. There was no furniture and, more importantly, no sign of a closet.

“Is this it?” asked Alberto, opening the door opposite to the one they’d come in by. This, however, only brought him to the next room over, which had half the floor taken up to replace some damaged joists. The workmen looked up in surprise at this unexpected intrusion.

“Sorry!” said Alberto, and closed the door again.

“Where is it?” asked Luca, worried.

Helena smiled. “The people who lived in this palazzo were worried about looks, not practicalities. Things like closets had to be hidden. She let Harry out of the suitcase, and then went to a corner and used her fingers to brush dust away from a seam in the paint job. About half a metre away was a ring, and when Helena pulled on that, the hidden door opened to reveal...

... the scaffolding outside. It hadn’t been visible from the street, but the outer wall here had partially collapsed, leaving the interior of the closet as a narrow shelf with a wall on the right and the back, and open air on the left.

“Santo Parmigiano!” said Giulia.

Helena quickly closed the door again and looked at Harry. “Ah, does that matter?” she asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “There’s ground in our world, so it’s fine.”

“Good to know,” she decided. “So now we just have to wait.”

They made a show of touring the rest of the house, and let the people working there overhear Helena describing the delicate process of restoring things like the broken ceiling fresco. Giulia and Luca pestered the workers with questions, most of which were happily answered, while they left Harry hidden under a cloth in the green room, trying his best to look like a pile of masonry.

At lunch time they had a picnic in the central courtyard, eating sandwiches and drinking lemonade. Then Helena announced it was time to go, and they went around thanking everybody once again, as if they were about to leave. They did not, however, do so. Instead, they went back to the green room and joined Harry in hiding under drop cloths. When the end of the day came, nobody would remember having actually seen them leave, but nor would they remember them being there in the afternoon, and the workers and guards would conclude that their guests must have left hours ago. Nobody would suspect they had any reason to still be hiding inside.

Unfortunately, that meant there was nothing to do in the afternoon but listen to the sounds that echoed inside the building. There were hammering noises from the men replacing the joists next door, and clinks as they began putting the floor tiles back. Voices spoke on the street outside, and at one point somebody tried to bring a dog into the building. The animal must have smelled Harry, because it began barking in a frenzy and had to be dragged back out.

Finally, people began to go home for the evening. The smell of cigarette smoke and the sound of laughter suggested men weren’t working as hard as they had been. The door to the next room opened, and the workers from there came through in a cacophony of tramping boots and loud voices. Maybe some of them noticed that there appeared to be objects in the green room that hadn’t been there before, but if so, they didn’t think it was worth investigating. They went out through the other door, and could be heard descending the stairs.

Even then, it seemed to be forever before Helena became confident that everybody was gone and let them come out from under the cloth. They couldn’t turn any lights on for fear of being noticed, so they just sat in the gathering dark and listened to Harry describe what they were likely to find.

“The research labs will have a bunch of door stations,” he said. “I’ve visited them loads of times with Dad.” His confidence was starting to return now, as the time came closer to return to his own world. “They’ll probably only be using two or three at a time, because they’ll be testing different stuff. You know, one will be opened normally, and then another one they’ll have done something to.”

“They’ll have a control group,” Luca nodded. Another thing he’d learned about in school.

“There’ll be a bunch of scientists,” Harry added, “but I’ll tell them who I am and that I wanna talk to my father, and it’ll be fine. I bet he’s looking for me!” This idea seemed to perk him up even more. “I bet there’s a big reward out for my safe return. I am his only child, after all.”

Alberto wondered... if he’d gone missing, would his father even have bothered to look?”

“Anyway,” Harry added, “as long as you guys are wet, it’ll...” he stopped, frowning.

“Yeah, we know,” Alberto said, rolling his eyes. They’d filled buckets from a sink on the ground floor and were ready to use them. After what had happened last time, they weren’t likely to forget.

“No, I think I heard something, too,” Luca said, and put a finger to his lips. “Alberto, sssh!”

Alberto fell silent, and there were a series of noises from outside – specifically from the other side of the closet door. The kids moved closer to Helena as a series of thumps, creaks, and grunts came closer and closer. Was there something wrong with the scaffolding, perhaps? Or were the monsters getting to work early?

“Are those the sounds the maids hear?” Giulia whispered.

“I don’t know,” Helena replied. “I’ve never heard them myself.”

“Should we look?” asked Luca.

Giulia stood up and got her camera ready. “You open it,” she said. “If it’s something bad, I’ll set off the flash.”

Luca and Alberto stood on either side of the closet door, water buckets ready, and Harry reached to pull the ring. Helena got behind Giulia, ready to grab her daughter and run.

“Good luck, ragazzi,” Helena said.

“Here goes!” Harry announced. He wrenched the door open – only for him, Luca, Alberto, and Giulia all to let out a scream at the sight of something scarier than any eight-metre drop or monster scientist could possibly have been.

It was Daniela Paguro.

#fanfic #pixar luca #luca 2021 #monsters inc #monsters university #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #scary monsters

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allthemarrowoflife · 1 year ago

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listen listen listen i know that most people who are not endgame jily are endgame jegulus because my boy james potter became obsessed with the same two people at 12 years old and never changed his mind

but what if he. didn't. like sure, if lily or reg told him to bark he'd go "woof" cause he's gone for people who are mean to him.

but he's james fucking potter. i refuse to believe he never dated anyone else.

SO HERE'S MY PROPOSITION

lily starts hanging out with this slytherin girl, pandora lovegood, they're girlfriends, and along comes pandora's queerplatonic partner, xeno, a ravenclaw.

and james looks at this person, all long white blond hair and big blue eyes who's always saying some weird shit about creatures no one's ever heard about before, who wears flowy skirts even when people make fun of them and too many necklaces and big earrings and whose patronus is apparently a fucking moth and goes "i've only had xeno for a day but if anything happened to them i would kill everyone in this room and then myself"

no one even knows their surname, only pandora, because mcgonnagal never calls them anything other than "xenophilius" just like she only ever calls sirius "sirius", so james figures there must be something going on there and that only makes him more invested cause my man never met a fucked up person he didn't want to fix.

he starts hanging out with xeno even when pandora is not around and waves at them across the halls and listens dutifully while they rent about nargles or something, mind wandering about how the sunlight hits their hair just right and makes it shine in gold or how the blue of their eyes matches the early spring skies (he's sappy like that, leave him alone)

the other marauders are slowly freaking out about this cause james is bringing this person over to the common room and helping then look for their shoes and SINCE WHEN IS JAMES POTTER EVER INTERESTED IN ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THEIR INNER CIRCLE.

meanwhile, james is freaking out himself. he really likes xeno and would like to ask them out but he's in a queerplatonic relationship with pandora? so maybe that means he's not interest in romantic relationships? and does james even care if it's romantic or not at this point if that means xeno will hold his hand and blush when he smiles at them from the qudditch pitch?

but because he is james fucking potter, he does what he always does. jumps in with no plan whatsoever and hopes for the best.

"hey, xeno, listen. i would really like to take you to hogsmead this weekend. it doesn't have to be a date, i don't even know if you're comfortable with doing The Dating so i won't imply this is us doing The Dating, but maybe we could just talk and maybe..."

and then xeno asks to kiss him (jamespotter.exe has stopped working) and promptly says that just because they don't do The Dating with pandora, it doesn't mean they can't do The Dating with someone else.

lily and pandora are watching from behind a pillar and giggling triumphantly. this was their plan all along.

#marauders era #marauders headcanon #slytherin skittles #james potter #xenophilius lovegood #pandora lovegood #lily evans #pandalily #marauders #the valkyries

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noxexistant · 3 months ago

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ai-less whumptober; day eight

@ailesswhumptober 8 — rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.” ↳ the refuge word count; 1.1k

cw; grooming, manipulation

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morris hadn't meant to freak out.

Truly, he never does — it just happens. Always has, ever since he was tiny, whenever he's feeling too much.

And he's been feeling on edge for days.

Oscar has been ignoring him completely ever since getting back from solitary a few days ago, not talking to him or even looking at him, so Morris has been alone. He doesn't deal well with being alone. He's not supposed to be on his own. He can't sleep when he's alone, so he's tired, and he hasn't eaten because Oscar hasn't been making him, and his throat hurts from all his talking.

He'd been attempting to rectify the loneliness.

He'd talked and talked the first couple of days, desperately rambling and chattering and babbling to try and get something out of Oscar, engage him in conversation or annoy him into anger or anything, but none of it had worked — until finally the words had seemed to dry up in Morris' throat after endless attempts with no results, and he could no longer speak at all, no matter how desperately he wanted to. He'd been helpless, utterly silent then.

Silent, at least, until one of the other boys had tried to strike — trying to take advantage of Morris being devoid, for once, of his older brother's protection.

Morris can't remember much of it. The details. But he remembers being grabbed by his hair and dragged to the floor, pinned. He remembers being called awful things, things Da used to call him, and hit and slammed down and and strangled.

He remembers turning and going at the boy like a dog the first moment his hold had slipped.

He remembers hitting him, over and over, again and again, as hard as he possibly could. He knows he'd been screaming — he'd kept screaming, unable to stop, even as two guards came in and wrenched him from the boy, tossed him aside like a sack of grain. But Morris had started on himself then, hitting and scraping as deep as his worn-down nails could get into his skin, still shouting and screaming. He'd slammed his head into the leg of the nearest bunk, then the floor, again and again until the guards had managed to get ahold of him again and restrain him.

They'd dragged him off then, legs being scraped bloody along the filthy ground, and when he'd started to wail again, a swift hit had knocked him unconcious.

He doesn't know where he is now, but it's quiet.

There's a gag in his mouth.

It's soft, Morris thinks. Cotton, maybe, and it smells like Snyder's clothes do — rich and clean, like it's been freshly washed, though it's tied no less tightly at the back of his skull than any other gag has ever been. He tries to move, tries to reach hazily for the knot to see if he can work it loose, and finds his hands won't go where he wants them to. Won't move at all.

They're behind him, he realises. Another hazy pull triggers another scrape of something around his wrists, so he pulls again, and again, wrists beginning to burn —

"Morris," Snyder tuts. "You should know by now that you're only wasting your energy when you fuss like this. And you're wearing your poor skin away. You'll have yet more scars."

He's close, Morris realises. Somewhere behind him. He flinches when a hand touches him suddenly — an instinctive reaction, trained. But Snyder's touch is gentle. An uncalloused hand clasping carefully around one bony wrist, a thumb tracing the warmed skin where his bindings end.

It's rope, he realises. Thick, awful rope. Snyder makes a sympathetic noise.

"It is a pity," he soothes. "But you were causing yourself needless injury — and we can't have that, can we?"

Morris hears him stand, and then a few, rhythmic clicks of his immaculate leather shoes as he walks slowly around to Morris' front. Snyder's eyes are dark, looking down on him with something indescribable in his face.

"And you're so much prettier this way."

It's a whisper, like something private. Something he perhaps wasn't meant to hear.

Morris doesn't…feel especially pretty. Not right now.

His skin feels raw all over. He hurts, not at all helped by how he'd scratched and scraped at himself just earlier. His head is pounding from him hitting it — or maybe it's from that hit that had knocked him out. He tries to speak, though he has no idea what there is he could say, but all he manages is a muffled, garbled noise behind the gag, all too aware of how drool is pooling in his mouth.

The very corner of Snyder's lip twitches.

He reaches out with the back of his hand, like Morris is a dog to be tamed, and traces his knuckles softly along the side of his bruised cheek. Then dares to turn his hand, cradle Morris' jaw just beneath where the gag runs across the softness above it.

"You are quieter than your brother. None of his mouthiness." It's praise, from a line of thought Morris hasn't been a part of, though he soaks it up regardless. "But the awful wailing, the screaming. We'll have to curb that. And then..."

Then what?

Snyder must see the question in Morris' face, because his lip twitches again.

He doesn't say anything more.

Morris spends that night in solitary, but Snyder comes and fetches him first thing, and Morris spends the morning sat in Snyder's office. He perches on a chair with his wrists still bound behind him, gag still in place to keep him silent, and he simply watches as Snyder eats his breakfast, reads the morning paper, looks over some paperwork.

Snyder looks pleased when he's finished and Morris has been sat still and obedient the entire time. The look makes Morris' chest bloom with pride, and something else he doesn't recognise as Snyder approaches. He leans down and gently unties Morris' wrists with effortless experience, soothes his thumbs over the reddened burns that remain when the ropes are gone.

And, for the first time in his life, Morris has his minor injuries tended to with expensive medicine and proper care. Herbal-smelling salve rubbed into his wrists by gentle hands, and a clean towel soaked with cool water held to his bruised cheek.

When he returns to the bunk room, it's with a stomach full of fresh, buttered toast, and a clean face, bandaged wrists. And Oscar talks to him immediately. Drags him close and demands to know what happened, what Snyder did, if Morris is okay.

Morris tells him, but not everything. Too betrayed by his brother to let slip the promises Snyder had made, about more rewards if Morris is good. The quiet remark that there's something special in him, something Snyder wants to cultivate.

For the first time, Morris keeps something to himself.

#might have to rewrite this one eventually it was a Struggle #but it exists!#newsies #morris delancey #alex snyder #ailesswhumptober2024 #my writing

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