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manyimaginativemuses · 3 months ago

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Lend Me Your Voice (Anthony/The Thin Man x Original Character) - Chapter 2

Chapter Warnings: N/A

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Tags: @vereorr @werewolf-on-high @peanutbutternun @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @stainedlilac @c0ffinshit

Miranda had to sit in her bean bag chair for a good half an hour to finally get her body to self regulate. Sudden change and extreme situations like that often sent her into a meltdown, but she had tools for this and she used them. When she was able to stand up without shaking or crying, she approached the man’s side. He was fast asleep from the morphine and, although she hadn’t checked and was a little mad at herself for not checking, his breathing seemed even and healthy. Grabbing her stethoscope just in case, she listened to his breathing as he slept. Miraculously, it didn’t sound like he’d punctured a lung. Whatever pierced his chest had not only missed his heart and any major arteries, but it also missed piercing his lungs.

“You are one lucky motherfucker…” She whispered, shaking her head before she noticed her hair. The chunk he had ripped out earlier was fisted tightly against his face where he had been rubbing it. She wondered what his thing was with hair, but maybe she’d get a chance to ask him in the morning. It was also at this point that she really got a good look at him. Lean was the best descriptor Miranda had for him. He was tall and thin but surprisingly muscular despite his appearance. He didn’t have any real abs to speak of but he was definitely toned. She snorted a laugh at the thought of this man’s workout routine. The strange thing was that he was covered in scars. His porcelain pale skin was littered with scars, some appeared to be former bullet wounds but most seemed to have been made by a blade of some kind.

“What happened to you, Mister? Who are you?” She wondered aloud as she started to pull off the clothes she was forced to cut off him. Miranda had never felt such a finely made suit before. It was lined with silk and the outside was a beautiful pinstripe pattern. It was also while pulling it off the bed that she noticed he had another chunk of hair sticking out of his pocket, this time the hair belonged to a redhead.

“You just keep getting weirder and weirder…” Miranda left his side once she was sure he was breathing so she could text Darius and Jade to tell them the situation. This was, by far, the craziest thing that had ever happened to her, atleast from her perspective. Amazingly her boss and coworker were remarkably understanding, telling her to call them if needed and to stay safe. She gave a heavy sigh when she finally was able to relax, peeling off her work clothes. She looked over once again at the sleeping stranger in her bed as she pulled on her pajamas and tied her hair into braids.

“Well, I guess I’m getting the couch. Please just… don’t be dead by the morning, Mr. Stranger.” Miranda said softly as she hopped onto the couch, swapping out her work earplugs for her sensory headphones, and preparing for a long damn night.

And surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as she imagined, despite getting up and checking to make sure he was still breathing every half an hour. She had one of her favorite YouTubers on in the background so it made the night a little easier and she tried to catch naps when she could, but she knew she needed to be awake enough just in case something went wrong. When he finally started to stir, she had already eaten breakfast and taken her medication to make sure all her faculties were up and running to take care of him.

“Good morning sunshine.” Miranda said softly as the man started groaning awake, probably still in pain of course, but he also most likely still had a little morphine left in his system. She almost gasped again when she saw how beautiful and haunting his blue eyes were, but she forced herself to stay calm.

As soon as he realized he was awake, Anthony started rubbing the hair against his cheek, needing the sensory input and the smell to get him back to himself. He heard a voice speaking to him as he groggily awoke, the morphine making his entire body feel like it weighed 1000 pounds. But when he looked up and saw the stranger that had rescued him, it oddly wasn’t fear he started to feel, it was relief and a feeling of peace.

“You gave me quite a scare last night mister. You’re incredibly lucky, whatever pierced you missed all your vital organs and vessels, although you definitely do have some broken ribs and you might walk with a limp for a while given how your legs look. But you’re alive, that’s all that matters.” Miranda started, “What’s your name so I can stop calling you mister?” She asked with a laugh but Anthony blinked as he watched her. He definitely didn’t have the energy to attempt to speak, so he sat up as best he could, grunting in pain from the effort, and made a writing motion in the air.

“Can’t you speak?” She asked and Anthony shook his head.

“Huh, never met a mute man before.” Miranda thought out loud and Anthony rolled his eyes. He wasn’t mute, he could speak, it just took a hell of a lot more effort than most people to do so. However, Miranda left and quickly returned with a pen and notepad, handing him the materials as she got more pillows to put behind him so he could sit upright.

“Where am I?” He wrote and Miranda raised an eyebrow.

“You’re in my apartment. I’m Miranda, Miranda Sullivan. You requested no hospitals last night, and I live across the street from the club where I found you, so it was either bring you here and fix you up or you die.” She explained with a shrug as he started writing again.

“No one told you to take me here? Did anyone see you bring me here?” His questions were strange and Miranda was even more confused as he frantically wrote out questions rather than answering hers.

“No? Why would anyone tell me to take you in? Why the hell would it matter if someone saw anyway? It’s not illegal to help a stranger off the street is it?” Anthony let out a sigh of relief through his nose, but he was still nervous that this was some kind of trap for when he was most vulnerable. However, the woman in front of him seemed truthful, and her body language didn’t suggest deception of any sort. He paused for a moment and nodded before writing out something else.

“Anthony. You may call me Anthony.” The simple sentence made Miranda smile but he was right back to asking more questions immediately afterwards, “What happened to my clothes?”

“I unfortunately had to cut them off you as I didn’t know the extent of your injuries and you weren’t capable of telling me what was wrong. I left the scraps in my kitchen in case you wanted to take them with you once you’re better. Oh, that reminds me.” Miranda left once again before returning with a flip phone, “I found this in the pocket of your suit. You should probably call or text any friends or family to let them know you’re alright and that you’re going to be staying here for a while.”

��Staying here?!” He asked.

“I mean, where else are you going to go? You said no hospitals and given everything I’ve been able to gather just from your suit and looking at you, I don’t think you have many other places to go or am I wrong?” She stated bluntly and he froze, locking his jaw and sighing again as she had read him like a book. That was when he turned and tried to stand up, causing Miranda to rush to his side as he almost immediately fell from his legs giving out under him.

“Ok Anthony, alright buddy, I’m assuming you probably have to go to the bathroom.” The look he cut her made her almost snort a laugh, “What? You didn’t go all night! Atleast the bathroom is right here so you don’t have to go far!” She helped him to stand upright and she handed him a cane that she kept in her closet for the days when her chronic pain was a little too much. Amazingly he could still walk, just with a bit of effort, and she helped him into the bathroom as she stood outside.

I feel like a child again, this is so fucking embarrassing… Anthony thought as he relieved himself, hating that Miranda was correct on all counts. Who was this woman and why was she being so nice to him? If she didn’t have any ulterior motive as it appeared she didn’t, why was she trusting him with not only her home but also herself. He made note of the windows in her bathroom just in case he needed an escape later, but for now he was content with staying. And as he looked at himself in the mirror once he was finished, he could barely recognize himself. His face was beaten and bruised, there was a large bandage covering his chest along with a matching one on his back, and his hair was a complete mess. The fact that it was in his face and not slicked back was definitely irritating and he started rubbing Miranda’s hair on his face to soothe himself.

“You alright in there?” Miranda called as she knocked on the wall, making him roll his eyes again as he limped back out into her bedroom. The sight of her apartment was quite overstimulating, with color and plushies almost everywhere he looked. If Anthony didn’t already know this was a grown woman’s home, he would’ve assumed this place belonged to a child given all the childish items. It was then that he also noticed she had changed the towels on the bed and laid out an oversized tee shirt and a pair of boxers.

“You didn’t have any other clothes with you, so you’re gonna have to settle for the shit my exes left behind. Given the silk on the inside of your suit, I grabbed the softest feeling ones that I could find.” Miranda explained as Anthony limped back to the bed, reaching out and touching the shirt and boxers. The shirt was acceptable, definitely far worse quality than he was used to, but when he touched the boxers he yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned and made an audible gag noise.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, peaking her head back into the room since she’d gone to grab something. Anthony pointed at the boxers, made a disgusted face and shook his head, “What’s wrong with them?” She asked and Anthony groaned with annoyance, grabbing the notepad and pen again.

“Bad texture, feels uncomfortable.”

“Oh! Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you had sensory issues too! Lemme try to find something else!” Miranda ran past him to dig through her closet as Anthony stood there stunned. No one, not even the nuns who raised him, had ever believed him when he complained about a bad texture. Certain fabrics like crushed velvet or certain cotton blends made him feel like he’d rather peel his own skin off than wear it for long periods of time. Unfortunately no one ever listened to him and forced him to wear uncomfortable clothing or touch uncomfortable things when he didn’t want to. Hell, he often did the only thing he could do and screamed at them to try and get the point across but they only forced it on him even harder then. This woman, his random stranger who saved his life and took him in without a second thought, was the only person in his entire life who didn’t question him when he complained about a fabric texture. She didn’t laugh at him, she didn’t force him to wear the uncomfortable boxers, she apologized and went to look for a different pair. Anthony almost felt overwhelmed with emotion just from this simple act of kindness, but he couldn’t let it show, especially to someone he didn’t know or trust.

“Here, feel these. Not sure if they’ll fit but they’re the closest I’ve got to your size.” Miranda said as she returned with a pair of red pajama pants. He reached out and touched the pants, a gentle smile crossing his face when he realized the texture was actually really nice. He nodded and took the pants from her. He’d been wearing nothing but his briefs from the previous night since Miranda cut his clothes off, so this would definitely make him feel less exposed. She watched as he put the clothes on, helping him when necessary and making sure he didn’t hurt himself even more, before she gave him a warm smile once he was back in the bed.

“I already ate my breakfast, but you definitely need to eat something if I’m going to give you more pain medication later. Do you have a preference of what you want to eat?” She asked and he paused for a moment before nodding. She told him to write down his order as she was preparing the kitchen and Anthony still couldn’t believe this was his situation. The previous night he was on the brink of death and now here he was wearing another man’s clothes in a gorgeous stranger’s bed being taken care of by said stranger. The best he could do was take advantage of this and use it like a mini vacation to relax. He had always healed faster than normal anyway, so he’d try to stay out for the count as long as he could so he could give his brain a break.

However, giving his brain a break was proving to be exceptionally difficult when Miranda kept approaching him with a smile and her decently large breasts that he had tried to ignore up until this point. Despite having his own “idiosyncrasies” as the nuns had called it, Anthony was still a man who was attracted to feminine bodies as well as masculine ones. So when presented with a beautiful set of tits like the ones attached to Miranda, he couldn’t help but stare. And he was incredibly embarrassing when she caught him doing so.

“Ummmm, hey Ant, my eyes are up here.” Miranda teased when she caught his stunning eyes staring at her chest. He made a face at her nickname, causing her to laugh at how his angular face changed with disgust. She laughed again when she saw his order, her eyebrow quirking when she met his eyes again, “You’re very particular about your food too, again much like me. Given the thing with the hair that you do and your reaction to the clothes as well as this, I wonder if you’re autistic like me. Maybe you’ll tell me when you’re ready, but regardless, you are once again in luck. This is my favorite coffee brand too, I have to order it online since it’s so special, and I’ll get this started for you ok?” Miranda gave him a big genuine smile before heading to the kitchen and Anthony lied there processing what she had said.

He had heard of autism before, some of his coworkers mentioned it whenever he was around but he never thought they were referring to him. He would have to look it up later to really understand what it meant, but at that moment, he remembered the flip phone that she handed him. It seemed like she hadn’t checked it for any texts or calls which was good. He didn’t want this woman to accidentally get on any kind of hit list for knowing something she shouldn’t. She was innocent in all this, just a random kind soul who decided to help him. When he opened the phone, there were a few texts from his employers, mostly asking if he wanted to take a job or two. There was one text from a colleague, letting him know the Angels might be onto him and his history, but he didn’t really care much about them right at that moment. He did care about Dylan though… Dylan Sanders, the wild child of the Angels. He had saved her life, kissed her, and had almost been murdered trying to force himself to speak to her. He had cared for Dylan for quite a while, ever since they first fought. He had assumed she was out of his league, but given the way she kissed him back and the way she took some of his hair and mirrored him, maybe she wasn’t as far out of his reach as he first assumed.

But despite what he might’ve felt for Dylan, what he was starting to feel for Miranda was already far stronger. Not only had she saved his life when he was on deaths door and was letting him live in her apartment to heal, but she also respected his problems with fabric and didn’t judge him for it. She wasn’t demanding answers for anything, atleast not yet anyway, and at that very moment she was making him breakfast to help him regain his strength. If Anthony was being honest, he would’ve genuinely thought he was hallucinating because there was no way life would’ve been blessing him with this much kindness. He had fallen off a building after all, maybe this was his brain’s way of soothing him before he died from massive internal organ failure. Regardless of if this was real or not, Anthony let out a deep sigh as he leaned back into the bed, the pain starting to set back in.

Miranda, meanwhile, was still in disbelief about her current situation. Here she was making breakfast for a stranger she saved the previous night and she knew nothing about him other than his name. Plus he didn’t speak so that was something else she had to contend with. But before last night, she didn’t know what she was going to do with her life. Things had been stalled for quite a while and her depression had been worsening. She felt quite stuck in a rut life wise. And then this stranger comes out of nowhere and gives her not only something new and different, but he also helped her feel like her life was worth something. Even if it was something minor, he gave her some kind of purpose because without her, he would’ve been dead. And that thought alone made her smile as she put his breakfast on the tray and walked back to him with it.

“Here you go, handsome. Made it exactly how you said. Trust me, I know how fucking annoying it is when people make your order wrong, especially when you have sensory issues like me. There’s also some pain medication there for you as well, which I have a feeling you’ll need.” Miranda said with a warm smile as she suddenly heard her phone ringing in her back pocket, “Let me know if you need anything!” She called before leaving the room to take the call.

“Hello?”

“OH THANK FUCKING GOD, BITCH I THOUGHT HE KILLED YOU!” Darius almost screamed over the phone, causing her to yank the speaker away from her ear, “You left me hanging last night and didn’t respond yet this morning! Way to give me a heart attack!”

“Thanks for making me deaf first thing this morning, Darius, good morning to you too.” Miranda replied sarcastically, “And I’m sorry I didn’t respond yet, I’ve been dealing with our mystery man. His name is Anthony, but he hasn’t told me much else. He also doesn’t speak so we have to communicate in writing which is a little inconvenient but I can handle it.”

“You’re safe though right? Motherfucker hasn’t tried to kill you?”

“No, no he hasn’t, although he did rip a chunk of my hair out but I think that’s because he needed to stim. I have a decent hunch that he’s autistic like me.”

“There are other ways for him to stim that don’t involve hurting you.”

“And I am well aware, but I’m giving him a pass this time since he was almost dead and mildly delusional. All in all though he’s actually quite sweet, atleast from what I can tell so far. Hopefully he’s telling his friends or family where he is so they can come pick him up or something… unless he WANTS to be stuck with me until he gets back on his feet.” Miranda chuckled, “Darius I can practically HEAR you rolling your eyes over the phone. What’s going on?”

“Bitch you have a whole ass man in your house who you are feeding and clothing and you know nothing about him other than his name and that he can’t talk. You better start asking some damn questions before I come over there and ask him for you because I’m not letting that weirdo rape you or something.” Darius replied with a huff.

“We both well know that if he tried anything, I’m much stronger than I look, and I could easily take him down. There is literally nothing to worry about, Darius. I’m gonna be ok, I promise.” Miranda tried her best to soothe his fears but she knew Darius better than anyone. He would make sure that she was safe even if it meant him being annoying about it.

“Ok, just make sure you keep me updated and don’t die, that’s all I ask.” Darius said before Miranda said goodbye and hung up the phone. She peaked through the doorway into the other room and spotted Anthony practically scarfing down his food. He must not have eaten in a while and the thought that she was helping him by feeding him made her smile. However, she must’ve been louder than she thought because Anthony looked up and met her gaze.

“You doing ok?” She asked and Anthony nodded. Miranda slowly approached, sitting in the bean bag chair beside her bed and grabbing the weighted Cinnamaroll plush that was on the floor. As Anthony sipped on his coffee, he looked over at her and examined her head to toe. She was a beautiful woman, that he couldn’t deny, but her strange and childish behavior was completely contradictory to how she had acted the previous night. How could a woman be able to save his life but also hold onto such childish things? But then again, he himself could be considered strange, given his whole hair thing.

“What happened to you last night?”

Her question threw him out of his reverie, his eyes suddenly shooting up to meet her gaze as he processed her question. Miranda saw the look on his face as he stared at her. It was one of fear and regret, an expression she had seen in the mirror way too many times. Anthony paused as he thought of how to respond, grabbing the notepad and writing down his answer.

“I was saving someone. It went wrong. I almost died, but you saved me.” Miranda’s expression softened as she read his reply, her heart breaking for him.

“Did you save them?”

“Yes, but I ended up getting stabbed and fell off a building.” His answer had Miranda’s jaw dropping.

“Oh my god… well that explains the stab wound and why your ribs were broken. But how the hell did you manage to make it to the front of my club? Did you crawl or something?” At her question, the sound of his gentle laughter had a chill running down her spine. He could still make noise, and quite beautiful noise at that of his laugh was anything to go by. Miranda would do anything to hear him laugh again like that.

“I had adrenaline leftover from the fight and the fall, so I just ran for as long as I could before I collapsed in front of your building. I just got lucky that you were there.” He wrote and Miranda reached over, touching his hand. Anthony tensed for a second at her sudden touch, but he softened almost immediately. He didn’t realize how insanely touch starved he was until she grabbed his hand.

“I’m glad I was there too.” Miranda paused for a moment, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand, “Did you call anyone with the phone I gave you? Are any of your friends or family coming to pick you up?” She asked, causing Anthony to pull his hand away from her gentle touches and shake his head. She blinked in confusion and shock, cocking her head as she processed his answer.

“What do you mean no? Do you just not have their numbers or….?” Anthony started scribbling on his notepad as she was in the middle of speaking.

“No friends. No family. I’m by myself.” His answer left her stunned and heartbroken.

“I’m… I’m so sorry….” She whispered.

“It’s ok. I prefer it that way.” Anthony replied and Miranda looked up into his ice blue eyes once again.

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me your story, Mr. Mystery Man.” She joked, “Look, I don’t have anything to do today and I don’t go to work until later tonight, so you’re gonna have to deal with me atleast for today. We can talk if you want, but I’m down for just good old silence too.” She admitted, tapping the bed before getting up to change.

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur for Anthony. He was in and out of sleep due to the pain medication, which he was extremely grateful for, and the times that he was conscious, he spent them watching Miranda. It was almost like going to a zoo and examining an animal close up. He didn’t often take jobs that had women as the target, and with those he did the women he killed were nothing like Miranda. Honestly, in his eyes, he’d never met anyone like Miranda. Here was this stunningly beautiful woman with childish interests whom he assumed would’ve ran as far away from him as possible, and yet she stayed and took care of him. Not to mention the odd quirks about her he noticed. She kept playing with a ring on her finger, spinning the small metal item round and around at practically all hours. She would also chew on her own hair whenever she seemed to be in intense thought or when she was frustrated about something. The thing that Anthony was most fascinated by was the large pair of baby pink headphones she wore most of the day. They had plastic cat ears stuck to the top and he wondered if she was playing music in them or if they were being used to silence everything else.

As day turned to night, Anthony woke up yet again from one of his medication induced naps to the sound of Miranda humming. Looking over, he spotted Miranda pulling her shoulder length teal hair into a ponytail. However, the shocking thing about the sight before him was that Miranda was no longer wearing the beautiful pastels she was dressed in earlier. Now she was sporting a dark purple blouse and a pair of fitted black trousers. He sat up in bed a bit too quickly, groaning in pain and alerting Miranda.

“Morning sleepyhead.” She teased until she noticed the concerned look on his face, “What’s the matter?” Anthony immediately grabbed the notepad and paper and began writing.

“What the hell are you wearing?” His words were shakily and hastily written, and Miranda almost laughed at how quickly he had written them out of concern.

“Anthony, this is the kind of thing I wear to work. I’m a bodyguard and a security guard.” She explained, causing Anthony to relax but also raise a confused eyebrow.

“YOU’RE a security guard? You? You certainly don’t look like you’d be a successful one.” He wrote, his blunt words making Miranda smirk and cross her arms.

“That’s the whole point. It’s fun making people think I’m this weak, helpless little girl who can’t defend herself, only for me to then beat their asses within an inch of their lives.” Miranda giggled softly and Anthony stared at her in awe. He didn’t even respond as Miranda finished getting ready. He just watched her grab her things and slide on her shoes before approaching him once more.

“So I won’t be back until later tonight, but I left my phone number right here.” She tapped a small piece of paper on the side table, “I also have cameras set up around the apartment, just in case, but don’t worry I’m not spying on you naked or anything. You get some rest and I’ll see you later.” Miranda smiled and waved at him before she left the apartment, locking the door behind her. And for once in the last two days, Anthony was completely alone in Miranda’s apartment.

Despite how exhausted he was, despite how much pain he was in, Anthony was absolutely going to use this solitude to his advantage. Using every ounce of energy he had left, he stumbled out of bed and firmly grabbed onto the cane. Miranda’s apartment was decently sized, despite only housing one person. She had one bedroom, one living space, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and an absolutely tiny balcony off the bedroom space. As he began to look around, Anthony couldn’t help but laugh at how Miranda kept her apartment. Compared to the place he called home, Miranda’s home was covered in clutter. Pastels covered every square inch he could see, plushies and figurines on her shelves indicating that she had a particular fondness for the brand Sanrio. He winced as he started limping around the room, doing his best to stay upright while also keeping himself safe and examining the place from top to bottom.

Her closet was surprisingly contradictory, one half full of the rainbows and pastels that made sense, the other half all black and dark colors. Given what she walked out of the apartment wearing, he assumed those were strictly her work clothes. Anthony had a strange thought that he really didn’t like seeing her in her work clothes. When he hobbled into the living room and the kitchen area, his eyes widened in awe. There were quite a few bookshelves full to the brim with both collectibles and books of all varieties. There was also what appeared to be a small set of workout equipment in the corner which threw him for a bit of a loop. But if she was a security guard as she said, it made sense that she needed to be physically fit.

A devilish thought that he’d love to watch her work out one day flickered through his mind and made him shiver. The thought of her body moving and sweating with the effort of physical activity made him growl quietly in his chest. He stored that particular thought for later when he spotted his sliced up suit folded on the kitchen table. His suits were all bespoke, as he had plenty of money to afford them, so it was a bit heartbreaking to see one of his favorites in this condition. But luckily for him, Miranda hadn’t dug through all of his pockets, as he found his cigarettes and his lighter in his hidden pocket. He silently thanked whatever god was out there and limped to the balcony for a smoke. The odd thing, Anthony thought, was that he didn’t really pick up smoking as a stress relieving habit, he picked it up because it felt right in his mouth. He’d always had a bit of an oral fixation, so when he found cigarettes, they scratched that very specific itch he had for holding something in his mouth and his hand at the same time.

Taking a huge drag of his newly lit cigarette, Anthony looked out over the city. Despite the intense pain in his chest from the broken ribs and the stab wound, Anthony let out a sigh when he blew out the smoke. His mind couldn’t stop thinking about both Miranda and Dylan. He had saved Dylan’s life for a reason, he had kissed her believing that she was just the same level of fucked up as he was, and she had kissed him back which all but confirmed his hypothesis. But she also didn’t go looking for him after he fell. She didn’t bother to check the alley for his body after Seamus fell on top of him. She and the Angels just left him there, assuming both he and Seamus perished. Anthony made sure Seamus didn’t make it out alive, that much was certain, but when he ran out of that alley and didn’t see even a flash of her beautiful red hair, his heart broke a little. Whatever possible hope he had for them working out vanished when she did. Anthony had been completely ready to die on that sidewalk, heartbroken yet content with his life.

But he hadn’t died. He had been found by his beautiful blue haired savior. Miranda saved his life and took him in and now Anthony didn’t know what to do. He was already healing faster than a normal person, so he could probably leave in less than a week or two, but the idea of leaving Miranda alone was gnawing at him. He took another deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out angrily. Why was he already feeling this way over a woman he barely knew? Atleast with Dylan he knew a little about her, hell he knew exactly what both Knox and Seamus knew about her, but Miranda was a complete mystery.

And that’s when he realized that that was part of what drew him to her. She had no idea who he was. She was completely innocent and pure in all of this. None of his enemies knew she existed and no one had any eyes on her. He was also presumed dead at this point. He could fade into the shadows, live a normal life at this point if he wanted to. But Anthony didn’t want to be normal. He enjoyed being an assassin because he was able to take out the guilty and the evil people of the world that the law just let slip under the rug. He had that job for a reason and he was good at it.

But Anthony still wanted to see what Miranda was all about. And since she wasn’t on anyone’s radar, he didn’t think it’d be too bad for his career if he played the helpless victim for just a little while longer. Anthony smiled to himself at the thought of staying by Miranda’s side. She had similar quirks to his own and he liked not being alone in that regard. And as he put out his cigarette, Anthony continued to smile and shook his head. Maybe he needed a small break from his world of darkness and blood and shadows. Maybe he could use a little fun time amongst the sunlight and the pastel rainbow.

He chuckled to himself as he crawled back under Miranda’s white and pink comforter, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes before rubbing the chunk of blue hair along his cheeks to comfort him.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all… He thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep once more.

#thin man #the thin man #creepy thin man #charlies angels #Charlie’s angels #charlies angels full throttle #charlie’s angels full throttle #crispin glover #crispin hellion glover #thin man x oc #Charlie’s angels fanfic #crispin glover fanfic #crispin glover x oc

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ghostchems · 11 months ago

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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part three

art by the insanely talented @stainedlilac!

author’s note: sorry for the delay but i've been tinkering with this for a few months! i get married in a week so this is my wedding gift to you all. it's here and he's stoney-baloneyed and hot and bad and our poor reader is falling right into his trap. we got some defiling of a scarf this chapter. it's about 4.1k words. part one here, part two here. ao3 linky.

“She’s not even listening!”

Your eyes blink into focus on Catherine who is laughing. You groan and lovingly give her a dirty look.

“It’s Friday, let me zone out if I want to.” You slouch in your seat and twirl your glass in your hands. What had they been talking about? You try to remember but they are right — you absolutely have not been listening and you do feel bad about it. It’s been harder to make plans ever since you started your new job, despite the normal hours. Most nights you come home exhausted but also strangely excited for the next day to start. This is the first time you’ve seen your friends since and you should at least try to pay attention.

“Okay, okay I guess zoning out is okay. I guess you can’t do too much of that at your new job?” Erica chimes in and leans over the table closer to you. “I feel like whenever we didn’t have calls we would always have these zone out staring contests.”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And then we would realize that we’ve been staring at each other for a weird amount of time.” You give a soft laugh. You do miss working with Erica but you don’t miss the job. Catherine starts to chime in about how she barely has any time to zone out as a teacher and your mind starts to drift again, having heard this kind of talk from her so many times before.

You think about what happened today. There have been situations over the last few weeks that made you ache in ways you know you shouldn’t for your boss but today might have been the most intense one yet.

You can’t stop thinking about it.

***

You walk into the den and immediately smell the strong aroma of marijuana which means that you are getting goofy Terzo. There is still some hesitation in your steps, not wanting to bother him especially since from what you can see he is in the middle of watching something. You take a few moments to scan over the den. In the corner of the room is a wooden bar with a fancy cabinet behind it filled with fancy liquors and crystal glasses. You’re surprised by how stylish this room is compared to the rest but then again, the lights are off.

Terzo is snuggled up on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts, his body draped across the couch entwined in a blanket. Your gaze drifts to the television and you gasp, giving up your position in the room. Terzo’s eyes immediately find you and he gives you a sleepy, sideways grin. His makeup is smudged which is common but it looks particularly messed up around his eyes. He’s been wanting you to come in here to see him, his mind wandering from the television every so often to think what would happen if you did — and now you’re here.

“Ah, toppolino! Come, have a seat.” He slinks into the corner of the couch, offering you the space next to him as he gives it a few pat, heavy-lidded eyes giving you a flirty look. You swallow thickly, hesitating for what feels like an eternity before you relent, your feet feeling heavy as you walk over to the couch. You take a seat where he gestured and he’s quick to offer you the half-lit joint between his fingers, his shoulder leaning against yours as he quirks a brow. A breath catches in your throat — you’ve worked for him for weeks now and he always offered but something always held you back from accepting.

Not today.

You take a deep, long drag as he holds the lighter to the joint, his eyes never leaving your face. It burns but you don’t cough, perhaps trying a bit too hard not to. Terzo is so pleased, his smile only widening as he watches you inhale and exhale the weed. He feels a rush from you finally giving into this temptation, having tried to lure you in since you started. You don’t know that he’s been eagerly awaiting you to accept because he saw it as another step closer to doing what he wants with you. He’s slowly trying to wear away at your boundaries, especially after your reaction to him raising his voice to you. Terzo knew he could get you to play along.

You feel him relax next to you, leaning in to rest his head on your shoulder as he turns his attention back to the television. Your eyes stay trained on the floor for a long moment, caught off guard by him. A blush rises to your cheeks. You choose not to think too hard about it and end up being your gaze up to focus on the footage playing.

“I didn’t think you were in an acoustic band.” You say after a long moment of silence, becoming distracted by the video. It’s of him, dressed in the clothes you’ve grown so used to seeing in photos, performing to a small crowd of people, flanked by two men in masks. Terzo laughs, deep and full, and it makes you smile. He doesn’t laugh like that often.

“I am a man of many talents, puffetta. This was to give the public a little taste of myself and the new album. We did a handful of these acoustic shows.” He picks up some blanket and smoothes it over your lap, heat rising through your chest up to your cheeks as his hand lingers in your lap for a moment. He notices. He always notices. Fingers lightly drift up the top of your thigh before he gently takes your hand in his. Your breath catches in your throat. Terzo’s touch is so soft, his hands feeling like butter as he places your own in his lap.

“You have a very nice singing voice.” Your voice comes out quiet like a house, almost shy about complimenting him on his talents. But in truth, it draws you in like a siren song. The way he moves his body, using his hands to accentuate the lyrics, and the deep eye contact with the camera and those in the crowd, is all but an act of seduction. You almost catch yourself swooning at the way he croons before remembering that he is sitting right beside you on the couch, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand that’s currently in his lap. The weed is hitting and you find yourself staring at the way his thumb moves, the way it feels against your skin, your eyes hazy and your cheeks starting to burn.

“Grazie a mile. I see you like my dance moves too, eh?” He nudges you playfully and you giggle. Giggle! The weed is hitting. You are comfortable next to him, eyes hazy as your attention shifts from him to the videos and then back to him every so often. The more you look at him the more you notice how the brightness of his face starts to fade until his lips are pressed into a straight line. Maybe it’s difficult for him to watch this, his glory days, which seem to be such a thing of the past for some reason.

“Have you thought about getting the band back together? Or doing some solo shows or something? You look like you belong on the stage.”

“It doesn’t work like that, toppolino. My time was up and that was that.” He gives a sigh, shaking his head. There’s genuine sadness in his voice. You don’t understand how it could be so difficult for him to perform again but you choose not to pry. If he wants to talk about it, he would and his short response tells you all that you need to know. Silence passes between the two of you and Terzo lets go of your hand only to curl both of his arms around your waist. You rest your own hands on your stomach and he places his own on top of yours, fingers stroking gently at your wrists. It’s like he knows every way to take your breath away.

Terzo slips his shoulder behind your back, his chest pressing against you and he rests his head on your own shoulder. The two of you continue watching in comfortable silence, his wonderful singing voice filling your ears, his quips and jokes making you giggle. You feel moved by his former self and you feel… bad for him. You never had before but now, seeing how much he thrived in front of a crowd, how at ease he was and how their energy fed him compared to him living completely alone in a giant house makes your heart feel heavy in your chest. It doesn’t last too long, though, his deft touch and the way his exhales tickle your neck clouding your mind along with the weed.

Even with the slightly uncomfortable topic of conversation, Terzo is buzzing. It is taking all of his self control not to pull you into his lap and slip his hands between your legs, to feel if you are as aroused as he is right now. He wants to taste you. He wants to make you whine, to make tears stream down your face from how good he makes you feel, to hear his name dangling off your lips while you are completely at his mercy. Terzo grits his teeth as he holds himself back, trying to revel in the moment without pushing too far.

You start to feel hot. Tension building inside of you that is making it hard to focus on the video. You become all too aware of the way you’re breathing, chest rising and falling with each deep intake of air. Your head starts to feel heavy and you lean back, further pressing your back against Terzo’s chest. He makes a quiet, surprised groan, his hands squeezing your wrists tighter. Your cheeks flush and you feel a familiar throb between your thighs, shifting your body to try and stifle it but it just makes you press even further into him. It feels like something is about to snap inside, a bad decision about to happen even though it’s all you want right now until —

ZAP!

You swear you see a flash of green and then there’s a sharp pain on one of your wrists. A surprised yelp spills out of you and you quickly snatch your hand from his grip. Terzo moves impossibly fast, somehow already on his knees in front of you, your delicate wrist already in his hand.

“Oh no, have I hurt you?” He sounds sick with worry, his fingers lightly brushing over the spot.

“Just a shock. It’s all—“

“Non muoverti, prendo del ghiaccio.” Terzo murmurs and climbs quickly to his feet, leaving you alone in the room as videos of him play on the tv. You have no idea what he said. You run the pad of your thumb lightly over your wrist, reaching the mark only for it to sting from your touch. He’s back and on his knees before you again, already having your wrist in hand as he presses an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel to it. His sleepy, black locks fall into his face as he looks up at you. You watch as he stays focused on you and your reactions while he knits his brows, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Care is written all over his face.

It makes you feel wanted.

“I am so sorry, toppolino.” His voice cracks as his eyes drop down to your wrist. He wants to kiss it better so badly. How could he have done that to you? What even was that? Terzo’s mind flickers back to how you felt against him, how warm you were in his arms. He feels a pang of anger for having that moment ripped from him. You reach out and lightly tousle his hair.

“Don’t worry.” You smile shyly and pull the ice cube from his hand so that you can hold it yourself. “I should check how the landscaper is doing.” You almost feel guilty for leaving him but you’re a teensy bit too high to handle the intensity that is radiating off of him. Terzo nods slowly but he still stays kneeling in front of you as you stand. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. You reach out and ruffle his hair as another reassurance but you can’t help but get caught up feeling how soft it is beneath your fingers before leaving the room.

Terzo stays on his knees and presses his face against the cushion of the couch after you’ve gone. Your scent lingers on the blanket. He groans quietly and digs his hands into it, bringing it up to his face. He was so close. So close. Terzo could almost taste you.

How much longer could he wait?

***

“New job is taking up a lot of your time, huh?” Erica asks as you eye your drink, contemplating if you should have another. There’s judgment in her voice but you ignore it, chalking it up to her being maybe a little bit jealous that you’ve escaped the call center.

“Oh, definitely. He’s kind of a mess.” You smile and end up sliding your drink to the center of the table, deciding you’re finished for the night. It is Friday but you still have to drive home and you’re not trying to stay out for longer than you have to. “Rich, though. And also loves weed.”

“He sounds perfect. Maybe you found yourself a sugar daddy.” Catherine speaks up and you find your cheeks flushing red. It’s not the first time you’ve thought of Terzo as daddy.

“He’s already paying me a lot.” You give a shrug, attempting to push the thought of how he had yelled at you, his anger making your core ache for him in a way you’ve never felt before. “But maybe — I might be open to it.” They both giggle. Your mind starts to wander, thinking about what he might be doing now.

Terzo clocked the scarf you removed from your neck that morning. It’s a deep red with a black floral design and a silky texture. You left it on the entryway table and when you left for the day you didn’t notice that it was gone. In fact, you completely forgot all about it. Terzo had grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket before scurrying up the stairs to hide it away in his bedroom. Now, he is laying in bed with it in his hands, feeling the soft satin against his fingers. Maybe he would keep it forever, hidden away in a drawer in his room for him to use when he is missing you. Maybe he’d start a collection of your things.

He hums quietly, tilting his head back against one of his pillows as he brings the scarf to his face. Terzo takes a deep inhale, breathing in your scent and then giving a rumbling moan. He was so close to having you today. He could see it in your eyes how badly you wanted him and then he ruined it. Terzo pulls the scarf from his face, dragging it down his chest before settling it against his shorts. His cock is already bulging and throbbing underneath the fabric just from your scent and reminiscing about earlier in the day. He is certain that the seed is planted, all it needs to do now is take root and grow.

But it would have been so easy to take you today. He could have moved his hand closer and closer to that spot between your legs, lightly drifting his fingers along the seams until you couldn’t take it anymore, begging for him to go just a bit further. You would have spread your legs wide from him as his hand slipped down your pants, toying with the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck.” Terzo’s hips jerk from the scene he has come up with in his mind, pressing your scarf more firmly against his bulge. His thoughts are a blur now, jumping ahead in his little fantasy to think about how your tight little cunt might feel around his pulsing cock. Terzo would keep you in his lap, hands firm on your hips as he pushes in as deep as he possibly could. He imagines what you might sound like, soft little sounds spilling from your lips while you take him. And then, he would stay still and make you squirm, make you beg for him to move his hips, to take you and –

A growl catches in his throat as he makes a mess in his shorts, his hips stuttering and his free hand fisting into the covers. Terzo could never finish out his fantasies of you, always reaching the point of no return before any real action could be thought up. His chest rises and falls, giving strangled breaths as he closes his eyes. How long would he last when he finally fucks you? His lips curl into a small smile at the thought – even if he cums early he would make sure to play with you until you're a whimpering mess. He sits up in bed and lifts the scarf to examine the damage: if there are any cum stains on it. None that he could see. He hums in satisfaction, dropping the scarf back in his lap but his gaze stays fixed on it.

An idea crosses his mind.

You’re about to ask for the check when your phone lights up. A frown crosses your face as you focus on the message preview.

You left your scarf. Come get it. Now.

“What is it?” The concern in Erica’s voice snaps you out of your trance. The color has drained from your face, anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach from his tone. You left your scarf and Terzo sounds pissed about it. Is he in one of his moods? He has hardly ever texted you nor has he asked you to come by after hours before. You suck in a deep breath and grab your phone, slipping it into your coat pocket.

“Duty calls.” You offer a weak smile, your heart pounding in your ears. “Everything’s fine. Uh, just shoot me a venmo request for what I owe for dinner, alright?” Before they get a chance to respond you’re walking away from the table, brisk steps as your breathing starts to speed up. You can’t help but feel like you’re in trouble even though you don’t know how leaving a scarf could be a punishable offense. Your brain typically jumps to the worst possible conclusion, especially when your boss is the one aggressively texting you at 7:30pm on a Friday evening.

“Hey! Wait!” Catherine is chasing after you, nearly out of breath. You blink and realize you’re already at your car door, your feet having taken you where you needed to go while your mind raced.

“I said you could shoot me a Venmo request—“

“No, no, this isn’t about that. I promised my brother I would ask you-“

“Dylan?”

“Y-yeah, he’s been asking about you. A lot. He wanted me to ask if you were interested in getting dinner with him sometime.” Catherine is nearly out of breath as she rattles the question off to you. To say you are frazzled is an understatement. You’ve had a crush on Dylan since you were a kid and even though so much time has passed since then, the two of you having grown up, you still had a soft spot for him. You wish you could take a moment to fully comprehend the fact that your childhood crush is asking you out for dinner (through his sister, which isn’t the best but can’t win ‘em all) but the gnawing stress of Terzo’s text overrides everything.

“Sure, yeah!” You are frantic, quickly getting into your car and then shouting through your window that is not rolled down. “Give him my number or whatever!”

And you’re driving away. There is no way you can think about anything right now, your thoughts running together in strings that make no sense. But there’s no way Terzo could be mad at you because you haven’t done anything wrong. Your feet slam on the breaks, throwing your car into park and opening your door in one swift movement. The rambling thoughts that had been clouding your brain disappear once you see him standing on his porch, waiting for you. You suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment before getting out of the car, forcing yourself to mellow out. The last thing you want to do is march up there guns blazing.

He is absolutely delighted. You came when he texted, sparing no time and not even giving him a heads up you were on your way over. He must have weaseled his way deep into your head and it makes groan to himself, eyeing you in your car. Terzo wonders what else he could ask of you.

“Buonasera, toppolino! You did not answer my text.” Terzo waves to you, the scarf dangling off of his fingers. He doesn’t sound angry whatsoever which is baffling to you. You end up standing right in front of the porch steps and he is towering over you on the top step, his shoulders broad in his smoking jacket. Terzo’s face is blank but there is a spark of mischief in his eyes as he starts to twirl the scarf in front of you. “Is this a gift you left me, eh?” He’s wearing his smoking jacket again but with a dress shirt underneath that is tastefully unbuttoned to expose his dark chest hair. You’ve seen it plenty of times before — he had a knack for being shirtless in front of you but this felt far more enticing, like he had framed his chest just for you.

“I forgot it! I don't even remember wearing a scarf this morning.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing at him. Still a goof it seems. “Was it really important to have me pick it up now? Was my scarf bothering you?” You’re teasing but there is an edge to your voice because how could you not be annoyed at the situation? He worked you up for no reason. You left dinner with friends for this. Terzo’s lips twitch into a grin and he tilts his head, eyeing you suggestively.

“Scusi? I am being a gentleman, puffetta.” He dramatically walks down the stairs until he is on the last step, still towering above you as he brings the scarf up to your neck. Your breath catches when his fingertips brush along your neck, looping the scarf around your neck and making sure to touch your tender skin more than is necessary. “I don’t want that pretty little neck of yours to get chilly.” You forget why you were frustrated with him in the first place as he touches you, your lips quivering and your skin burning from the sensation. Terzo is so handsome in this light, the dark paints around his eyes making his mismatched irises glow. He cups your jaw and tilts your head back, looking over his work of tying your scarf firmly around your neck, thumb lightly grazing along your cheek.

You look delicious to him with your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded. Terzo could easily take it too far, he thinks about gripping your neck and squeezing just to see what would happen but baby steps. You would be begging for him to touch you sooner or later. His thumb swipes at the corner of your lips before pulling his hand away from you and taking a step back up another stair, miraculously not tripping over his own feet. The two of you stand still and stare at each other before finally you adjust the scarf around your neck that he tied just a tad too.

“What does puffetta mean?” You break the silence. Terzo’s brows shoot up as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, giving a small shrug.

“Smurfette.”

“Smurfette?!” That has never been one of your guesses.

“A term of endearment, puffetta.” He watches you flounder deliciously. “I’ll see you Monday morning.” Terzo winks and turns on heel, walking inside his quiet mansion and turning off the porch light to leave you in darkness.

The nerve of him. The absolute gall to have you show up here only for him to dismiss you so quickly. You breathe heavy, realizing that your legs are wobbling from the way he had touched you.

You want more.

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