#Victor is such a little bitch sometimes (affectionate)

[5-turtleducks-in-a-trenchcoat]

It will never not be funny to me how Victor just goes: "M. Krempe isn’t sexy enough for me, so I am not interested in what he has to say."

[ayo-wheres-the-pxprika]

the sinclairs as cats (and how to deal with them)

sorry if the formatting here is absolute garbage lol

- personally, i like to picture them as a trio of Norwegian Forest cats (the big long haired, majestic mfs)

- Bo and Vincent are obviously identical, both sharing the same dark chocolate fur with black stripes here and there. Bo has a scar on the back of his head from their separation, but his fur makes it easy to cover up. Vincent, much like his human counterpart, has facial scars covering half of his face, leaving him with only one eye.

- Lester shares the same fur pattern as the other two, but with different shades: like a gingerbread brown with sandy stripes. He was the runt of the litter, so he’s noticeably shorter than his brothers.

- they love each other!! there is no tension, no murder (of humans, at least), and no trauma -- they are CATS. ALL THEY KNOW IS MEOW.

- trudy and victor don’t exist lol sucks for them

alright, onto the three amigos:

BO

A. Massive. Bitch.

this mf is LOUD. and TALKATIVE. he’s got this raspy meow so all you ever hear all day is “mreEEOWW MREOOWWWWW” 24/7 just “MREEEEOOWWW”

he sounds like the “imma put my cat on the mic” meme video thing

100% the kind of cat that wakes you up at ass o’clock in the morning for food. everyday you wake up to little slaps and “MREEOWW” in your ear.

can be a bit of a bully. to his brothers, to random critters passing by, to your neighbours’ pets, even to YOU.

nothing he loves more than challenging the giant human that provides for him.

oddly enough, he’s an absolute angel around strangers.

anytime you bring guests over, he does a complete 180 and cuddles up to them; giving them a warm welcome, rubbing against their legs, and purring up a storm. you gotta hand it to him, he’s great at first impressions.

but once your guests leave, or they become a frequent visitor, he goes back to being angry ol’ Bo (affectionate).

HOWEVER

he is a not-so secret softie

he actually likes to help look after Vincent and Lester. grooming them, watching over them as they eat, hissing at anyone/anything that poses a threat. hell, he even likes to look after YOU.

at least once a day, he’ll attempt to lick your skin clean.

he’ll glare at you and his brothers, trying to convince you guys that he’s just doing y’all a favour. don’t let his narrow eyes fool you though, he adores his family.

he also loves cuddling with you, but only when there’s no one else present. 

sometimes you’ll awake in the middle of the night to this furball curled up at your side, snuggled against you and quietly purring.

whenever you pet him, he tries acting like he doesn’t notice or like it, but like... he’s clearly kneading the blanket.

scratch the back of his ear, he loves it

despite him being a prick sometimes, he’s a very good cat :)

VINCENT

SUCH a handsome and sweet cat omg

very shy and introverted. takes him a few weeks to warm up to any new presences. while Lester and Bo welcome your guests, he usually runs off, hides, and observes from afar.

he often hid from you the first few weeks after adopting them.

but once you get on his good side, this bitch is CLINGY.

accompanying you as you go about, curling up beside you when you’re chilling out (yooo that rhymed, i’m dr seuss up in this bitch), and his personal favourite: falling asleep with you.

you wake up to go use the restroom in the middle of the night, but Vincent’s all nice and comfy on your chest... what do you do? do you piss yourself or disturb your little baby’s slumber... what do you do?

it always pisses Bo off, that’s HIS human. HE should be the one cuddling you.

loves physical affection, but also enjoys just. idk staring at you.

you’ll be chilling on your laptop/phone, look up, and he’s just “👁️”

quite an elegant little guy too. he hops from furniture to furniture as if he weighs nothing. he seems to walk with grace too.

has a weird obsession with candles that you’ll never be able to figure out. kinda likes to rub himself against them when they’re unlit. does he like the feeling of wax? does he like the smell? who knows

rarely talks, but has the loudest purrs of the bunch. once you start petting him, it’s like you have a small motorbike in your lap :)

likes to bring home “gifts” for you (dead animals)

listen, no matter how gross you might think it is, just give him head pats anyway. please. he deserves it. it’s just his way of showing you he cares. he loves you bruh.

despite his thick fur, he gets cold pretty easily, hence why his favourite spots are your heater, your computer, and eventually your lap.

he also enjoys sitting by the window and observing the world outside. if you can, set up a little bed with a heating pad close by, this little man will be over the moon.

(especially if you sat nearby)

LESTER

absolute ray of sunshine, holy shit

due to his smaller stature, he’s not as intimidating to other animals as his brothers. he’s also a primary target for Bo’s headassery (just brotherly love, don’t worry).

Vincent is his go-to nap buddy. As much as Vinnie enjoys alone time, he also loves his little bro.

Lester is a very talkative cat, much like Bo. however, he speaks in trills and “mrrps”. he likes having little conversations with you.

usually the one who greets you when you come home. he’ll try jumping into your arms and expects you to catch him (istg you better catch him...)

easily the favourite amongst your guests. Vincent is shy and Bo is an attention whore, but Lester genuinely wants to hang out and make new friends.

just an extroverted and friendly little guy. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed he was raised by puppies.

much more outdoorsy than his brothers; if it’s possible, try keeping a window open so he can come and go as he pleases, keep an ear out for his meows at the door, or just take him for frequent walks.

imagine kitty!lester sleeping amongst a flower bed :((

NOT a hunter, would much rather observe and befriend the little critters that pass through his property, even if they don’t always like him back.

one time he (somehow) successfully befriended an opossum and strutted back home, eager to show you his new friend.

you just sat there like “wtf aren’t cats supposed to be territorial? this mf acting like this is a disney movie”

but his welcoming nature is what makes him... well, Lester.

since he enjoys going outside, he gets dirty pretty often. usually a quick brush should be enough (along with self-grooming, and Bo’s help), but you definitely have to bathe him more often than the other two.

thankfully, he’s doesn’t have a huge aversion to water and is quite tolerable when it comes to baths.

he LOVES getting brushed, so he ends up having the fluffiest fur of the trio. fluffiest little gingerbread cookie you’ve ever seen.

BONUS: JONESY

i just want you to imagine Jonesy with these three cats who absolutely adore her.

Bo attempting to groom her fur as she sits like “:DD”

Vincent napping with her on the couch.

Her tagging along with Lester on his walks.

Just :((( <3

(this was fun! i might just have to write about these three losers more often)

[shorkbrian]

Give in to Love

so I have several thots about this. Like with Kiri, he would be like, relieved you’re being submissive but then he’d become like super depressed that you aren’t like idk seeming to live in your body, like you’re just a husk and he’d get so worried and sad and pamper you with so much love.

Yeah so aside from Kiri, a yan that I imagine this type of scenario is with someone like Victor Nikiforov from YOI 

yes. This Bitch right here.

So first fucking off, he’s rich. Money is no problem for him.

Second off, he’s so confident that he would not hesitate to do whatever he wanted.

Third, he’s actually pretty kind (especially to pretty, vulnerable little things like you)

It’d probably start out with the man spilling coffee all over you or something SUPER cliche like that. 

(Warnings - not much. NSFW but only the teeniest tiniest bit. barely even a mention. but obvs Yandere, dub con, dark content.)

He’s in a rush, he was bursting out of the coffee-shop, you just so happened to be walking by and in the direct path of the door and so smacks into you, knocking you onto your butt.

Immediately, you’re being helped up by a silver haired man, he’s apologizing heavily, patting your clothes into place, smoothing your hair, steadying you onto your feet. He’s so sorry, he didn’t even see you! And then the man stops, looks at you, smiles blindingly and blurts out that you’re pretty.

You’re understandably stunned. but you quickly just brush it off, his accent is foreign, it’s probably just a cultural thing. 

Then he’s offering to buy you something to make up for him trying to give you a concussion, asking if you like coffee, sweets, maybe a sweater? You look cold.

And you’re just so tired, life is exhausting, you don’t really even care anymore what happens to you. You don’t protest as the man doesn’t wait for an answer, immediately grabbing your hand and marching you into the coffee shop he had just burst out of.

“Pick anything you’d like, my treat! An apology for not paying attention to such a beautiful thing.” He smiles, gesturing at the menu.

You study it for a second, but there’s too many choices, and it’d just be easier if you didn’t have to, and you’re so used to people telling you what to do and making decisions for you and you’re lost. Where do you even start?

After a few moments of silence, the man (who's been not-so-subtly watching you as you deliberate) speaks up. “Can I pick? I LOVE their raspberry cheesecake! So good!”

It sounds fine, and you’re somewhat relieved that he was going to choose, take the burden of responsibility off of your shoulders.

He buys one of the giant slices, ushers you to table, sits you down. The man watches you take a bite, his face lighting up and giving a little clap when you give a thumbs up. He has his own fork, and he takes bits and pieces here and there from the slice. While you eat, he talks.

His name is Victor, he’s from Russia, are you from around here? What’s your name? 

“That’s such a pretty name!” He says your name once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth like it’s something to savor. 

Victor is a ball of energy, confident, full of life. He’s frankly an intimidating man, with how attractive he is, the obviously expensive suit he wears, the way he dominates the conversation and expertly handles your awkward silences and uncomfortable pauses.

By the time you leave, he’s entered his number into your phone, quickly scrolling to find your own number (even though he was only supposed to put in his own - but you really didn’t care) and note it down.

You’re pretty sure he won’t actually be texting or calling you - he was just being polite, feigning interest in someone as boring and pathetic as yourself.

Lo-and-behold, that evening you get a notification that “Vitya! (:” has texted you.

Hello! Is your body feeling alright?

Immediately confused, you send out a reply

Who is this?

It’s Victor!!! From the coffeeshop, haha. 

Oh, hi (: your contact name says “Vitya” lol what a typo

Not a typo, I like it when pretty girls call me Vitya (;

Baffled, you don’t reply, and no further messages are exchanged.

A few days go by, Victor texts you on the fifth day, asking if you wouldn’t mind recommending some fun local activities. You have to apologize - you don’t get out much, you’re sure there’s info online though.

Victor asks why you don’t go out, you decide to be blunt and succinctly explain the fatigue, you’re anxious, this is your first time being out on your own and you’re so used to other people dictating your life that it feels uncomfortable and wrong to be able to make decisions. 

The man asks if you would go to that coffeeshop again with him. The switch of topic relieves you, but at the same time you’re frowning. You probably word-vomited all over him, complaining about your problems. 

For some reason, you agree.

He meets you at the coffeeshop again, this time not even bothering to ask what you’d like to order. Victor just gets a few cookies, leads you to a table and plops down, spreading them in front of the two of you 

“In case you don’t like one of them. And if you have allergies!”

You smile at his explanation.

Victor slowly becomes a constant in your life.

The texts turn into quick calls, inviting you places, begging you to come sit with him in the park, feed some pigeons. Go to the grocery store with him? He’s lonely, don’t make him go by himself!

Even if you refuse, you’re gently bullied into doing virtually everything he says. It’s not like you mind though, you’re used to it.

He starts showing up at your apartment, you aren’t even sure when you gave him your address, but now he invites himself inside.

The first time he had shown up, completely unannounced, you had protested only once before letting him in. You could tell he was scrutinizing your home, but what did it matter? Victor was wealthy, everything you owned seemed shabby and poor.

He came over most nights, sometimes bringing food, making you sit with him at your table and eat. Sometimes he brought a book, or his laptop, and quietly sat on your couch while you puttered around. He’d always get distracted from what he was reading though, chattering towards you about this or that or the other.

Victor was nice.

He made decisions for you, he made you eat, he quickly picked up on when you were too tired to function, when all you could do was collapse somewhere and fall asleep.

But Victor was also threatening.

If you tried refusing him too many times, or if you mentioned your coworker telling a funny joke (It’s not like he wasn’t funny, the joke was hilarious - Victor just didn’t seem to like it) Victor’s face would sour, eyebrows drawing low, a deep frown etched onto his face. HIs voice would take on a commanding tone, low, as if he was going to do something that neither of you would enjoy if he had to ask again. 

It was scary sometimes.

But he had invaded your life, and you had stood by and idly watched. It’s not like you had put up a fight. You didn’t even know why he hung around you so, with the way you were constantly tired, moving through life like a zombie, sad and sleepy all the time.

Months passed and like every other year of your life, you could barely remember them slipping by. When had Victor become so comfortable in your apartment? It made you uncomfortable, but you were used to discomfort.

It came to a head when you retreated to your room for a nap, body sore and fatigued from merely existing. Victor followed you, nagging about wearing something cooler, to drink some water, how he heard about this new thing recently-

He followed you into your bed.

Like it was normal. Crawling under the covers with you, still maintaining a respectful distance, still talking. You were so tired, you didn’t care about how it made you uncomfortable.

When you woke up, he was curled around you, holding you tight. When you shifted, he had perked up, peeking around your shoulder to see your face. He had been awake the whole time, just chilling.

It was weird.

You were too tired to fight it.

Victor started paying for too much.

Of course it started small, as everything concerning Victor did. Sweets, small little gifts, occasionally a week’s worth of groceries. 

Then it escalated. He was paying for your medications, for your therapies, for your health aids. He started trailing after you to doctor’s appointments, introducing himself as a concerned friend.

You knew this wasn’t good, wasn’t healthy. Something was wrong about this, but you just didn’t care. Something was always wrong, you were always being directed and pushed towards this or that. You just had to accept it.

Then Victor was paying your rent, buying you clothes (since when did friends buy each other underwear?) surprising you with bigger and more expensive gifts until you tried to put your foot down.

You had gotten a stern talking-to, treated like an ungrateful child. And maybe you were? Victor was doing so much for you, shouldn’t you just accept his care?

Victor suggested that you move into his house, since he practically lives at your little apartment anyways. 

“My place is so much cozier! I have a fireplace, I miss it! I want to spend time with you but we could hang out in a more-” He looked around at your apartment “-comfortable place?”

You tried to argue, you did. But it took one disapproving glance from Victor and you were subdued, meekly agreeing to do whatever he wanted.

He called your landlord to terminate your lease. He helped you pack your clothes (that he had bought) into boxes (that he had bought) and arranged for your furniture (that he had bought, always complaining that your couch was bad for his back) to be sold.

Once moving in with him, he got more and more affectionate.

Right from the start, you quickly realized that Victor was very tactile-oriented. He wasn’t shy about physical touch, always wanting to hold hands or giving super long hugs, or begging to cuddle. He didn’t think it was weird, so you tried not to think so either.

Now that you were in his house, his gigantic, expensive house, Victor became even more physical. He showered you with kisses on the cheek, pressed to your forehead, on your shoulder, your neck when he curled around you at night (because of course you slept in the same bed. Victor had just laughed when you asked where your bedroom was)

Eventually, he kissed you on the mouth.

You were surprised, but you didn’t fight it. Why would you?

A heartfelt confession followed - how he had fallen in love with you at first sight, and how every day he fell more and more in love with you. You were his everything, the light of his life, he would die for you.

Don’t you feel the same?

You did, because that’s what Victor wanted to hear.

So now the two of you were dating, sharing kisses and intimate touches and eventually sharing bodies, letting him touch you even though it made your flesh crawl, touching him because he asked you to.

He provided everything, it was simpler just to do what he asked, what he desired. You didn’t even really mind being told what to do, what to wear, what and when to eat - it gave you a sense of comfort, knowing that you didn’t have to make decisions for yourself like that.

Victor would take care of you.

Even when you didn’t want him to

After all, it was simply easier to give in to love

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

For the oc appearance ask game: 5 and 8 for Victor, 4 and 2 for justine, 7 and 10 for ernest, 10 and 4 for soulier, and 7 and 10 for djinn! (You dont have to do all of these if you can't/don't wanna!!)

5. do they have any scars? how did they get them?

Victor has a crap ton of scars ranging from small to barely noticeable all over his hands because he's a dumb bitch (affectionate) who can't use a scalpel safely. You know how you write with an ink pen and end up with lines and marks all over your hands without even noticing? That's Victor with scalpel cuts. But that was during and after Ingolstadt, before that he only had the occasional scar from a scrape or a cut here and there that eventually faded away.

8. - already answered

4. would they be considered conventionally attractive?

Most would describe Justine as alright. Pretty enough but kinda plain. Doesn't catch your attention when she passes by. Though some would say she is a little too tall and her nose is a little too long.

Soulier is hot but it usually gets unnoticed over how much of an annoying little shit he is

2. what is their eye color best described as?

Her eyes always remind me of a forest. Green with some brown, like a very dense deciduous forest that doesn't let much sunlight through but still feels warm and safe.

7. how would you describe their sense of style?

Ernest? A very tired rat. Just grabs whatever is currently on the top of the shirt pile, whatever's on top of the pants pile and the first coat he gets his hands on and hopes it fits together. When he was younger Liz sent him back to pick something that makes more sense so many times but he never quite learned which colors go together best in terms of clothing.

Djinn is like a mix between a vampire lord and a stage magician. Mistaken for an old spirit in mortal body. Always mostly black. Gold accents, or red. Dark bastard. If its extra, good. Add a cape to it.

10. what is their favorite part of their own appearance?

Ernest inherited his father's oddly pale blue eyes which for Alphonse was sometimes a pretty effective way of getting people to listen/intimidate them. As a child Ernest would often practice that "Death Glare" for fun and sometimes it even worked. It sure works when he truly does get angry.

For Djinn, it's his whole appearance in general. Not in a narcissistic way, more like for how convenient it is, though there are aspects of his appearance that would sometimes make people discriminate against him, he's learned to use it to his advantage. He's really trying to go with the vibe of Dark Mysterious Possibly Cursed Man™ pretty much ever since he was young, mostly just for fun, but it came especially handy when Stefan ends up with vampirism since it brings all the attention to Djinn and away from his friend. In general he often uses his appearance as a tool, be it to use the superstitions surrounding people with black eyes and convince someone he's a devil or use the fact that he tans easily to trick someone into thinking he's a messenger from a faraway exotic country. And he simply has a lot of fun with it.

As for Soulier

[kaalamarii]

Victor/MC part 1

Sup demons it’s ya boy.

Look who decided to post something. First a few notes...

This was getting really long (like the longest I’ve ever written actually!) and I worked/am working very hard on it. I just wanted to get the first part out and will hopefully get the second part out this weekend. 

MC is not at all how she is in the game in this fic.

There’s no smut in this, but will be in the next one 😉 so no warnings here except language.

anddddd I guess that’s it. Hope you enjoy. 💕

MC chewed her lip, eyes scanning her kitchen where piles of dirty dishes and a mess of ingredients taunted her, an embarrassing reminder of her failed attempts at baking. She cursed herself, wishing she was listening as Kiki asked if she’d be willing to make a cake for a company bake sale. “Sure, uh huh,” was her exact response as she focused more on beating her high score on Doodle Jump than the meeting. (Willow later made fun of her for that… “who even plays Doodle Jump anymore?”)

Standing amongst the disaster that was her kitchen, she sighed, picking up her phone and hovering her thumb over Victor’s number in her contacts, for once not giggling at the nickname “Bitch” she had oh so affectionately given him. God, she did not want to call him. Admitting defeat was difficult enough already without the LFG CEO’s insults.

MC shook her head, turning the screen off and shoving the phone into her bra. Sure enough there’d be a shop or two open still and she could get a mix and call it a night. That would be preferable to asking Victor for help and getting berated for “not being able to follow directions” or whatever he might say. MC grabbed her wallet, adding it to her very handy boob/phone holder bra.

Luckily for her, there was a shitty little corner store within walking distance and it wasn’t cold out. It was a bit dark, but she had walked there on several different occasions, at later times than this-and oftentimes intoxicated in some sort of way-so she wasn’t too nervous to make the small trip.

After a ten minute walk she made it to the store. A bell rang as she entered, the lone cashier welcoming her in a monotone voice, eyes not budging from his magazine. She let out a very informal “‘Sup”, though the cashier didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Do you have cake mixes here?” she asked, earning a sigh and an eye roll from the worker. Still not looking at her, he pointed her to one of the aisles. She thanked him before heading over. Squatting down to get a better look, she took a box off the shelf and looked it over. Vanilla should work, she thought, and read the instructions on the back to make sure she had everything else she needed for it. 

MC heard the door ring again but didn’t think much of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure. “Think I can trick people into thinking I made this from scratch?” She asked, holding out the box to the stranger beside her. He didn’t answer, and she looked over at him, jumping at the sight.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Victor’s fine, thanks,” he replied, taking the mix from her and narrowing his eyes at it. “Really, box cake mix?”

“What are you doing here?” MC asked, crossing her arms. “Also, did you just try to make a joke?”

“Somebody pocket dialed me,” The CEO held his phone up to show her that he was currently on a call with...her. 

MC’s face heated up instantly, and she pulled her phone out of her boobs (much to Victor’s surprise and confusion) to see that, indeed, her phone was on and had been on a call with him since she had left for the shop. She sighed as she hung up the phone and shoved it back into her bra, bracing herself for his insults. 

Victor’s eyes followed the phone into her cleavage unintentionally. The lightest of blushes brushed over his cheeks, so light that MC didn’t even notice. “Haven’t you heard of pockets?”

“Why do I need pockets when I have a perfectly good set of tits to store my stuff in?” she retorted, placing her hands over her aforementioned breasts, giving them a squeeze.

“Goodness gracious,” the CEO griped. “You really are a hot mess.”

“At least I’m hot, right?”

Victor scoffed, ignoring her quip. “You need to pay more attention. I don’t appreciate random calls this late at night.”

“Late?” MC teased, looking down at her phone and pressing the side button to turn on the screen. It illuminated her cleavage as she read the time. “It’s only nine, grandpa.”

“It’s dark out,” he replied, once again ignoring what she said to him. “You never know what creeps are out this time of night.”

“Oh, like the one I just ran into?”

Victor’s eyes darkened as he looked down at her. “Cut the attitude.”

MC didn’t have a chance to talk back as Victor set the box of cake mix back on the shelf. “Were you actually going to buy this nonsense?”

“I agreed to make a cake for the company bake sale and it turns out I’m not a baker.”

“Don’t you make pudding?”

She shrugged. 

“Whatever. I’m not going to let you buy that and I’m most definitely not going to let you give it to anyone else. Come on. We’re going to Souvenir and we’ll whip something up.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

Victor wrapped his hand around her wrist, guiding her to his car. MC was surprised by how gentle his hand was on her, how he led her but not forcefully, but almost protectively. She looked up at him, taking a moment to admire his profile. She couldn’t help but smile. He was an asshole for sure, but she still always enjoyed spending time with him, and she couldn’t help but feel excited at this late night trip to Souvenir.

At Souvenir, MC waited patiently as Victor rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing flour, sugar, and other ingredients as well as measuring cups, mixing bowls, and the rest of the various items they needed. She hopped up onto the counter, watching him. He was a handsome man, that was for sure, but whenever he cooked, she found him drop dead sexy. He wasn’t even cooking yet, but already had that focused look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. She wasn’t sure of his feelings for her. Hell, she wasn’t even sure of her feelings for him, but seeing him like that, she couldn’t help the absolutely raunchy images running through her mind.

“Were you raised by wolves? Get off my damn counter.”

His annoyance at her made her chuckle and she slid off, feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. 

“How many times have I told you not to do that? Not only is it unsanitary, you could fall and get hurt.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then quit acting like one.”

MC sighed. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I can just go home and buy a premade cake from the grocery store tomorrow morning.”

“Pointless of you to say considering we’re already here,” he argued, “Plus I am not letting you give up that easily. You promised you’d make a cake and you’re going to make one. A real cake, not some crap from a store.”

MC couldn’t help but giggle from his choice of words. “Oooh, you said crap.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “You really are a child.”

“Box cake mixes aren’t that bad, you know,” she said as he handed her an apron. She pulled it over her head and tied it around her back. “Sometimes junk food can be satisfying.”

“What do you mean? I eat desserts.”

“Yeah, but you eat, like, fancy dessert. Not junk food. Like, don’t you ever want to go get a shitty fast food burger or milkshake?”

“I would rather die.”

“You are so dramatic!” MC said with a chuckle.

“Why would I want to eat something that can be described as ‘shitty’?”

Victor rolled his eyes as she once again found humor in his language. She had heard him cuss before and he didn’t really understand why it was so funny to her. He’d never let himself admit that he found pleasure in her laugh.

“Because it tastes good! Even though it’s bad for you. It’s like a guilty pleasure.”

“Are you quite done?” he questioned, the usual irritation in his voice. Not letting her respond, he continued, “ I preheated the oven and greased the pans already, so now you need to sift the flour and baking soda.”

He spoke as he rolled his sleeves up and also donned an apron. MC couldn’t help but look him over, admiring the muscled arms and chest pressing against his button down shirt as he moved. He handed her a sifter. “Use this.”

MC looked at it, confused. 

“Don’t be intimidated. It’s simple,” he told her. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around to hold her hands. With one hand, he guided her to the bag of flour and together they dumped some into the top of the sifter. With his other hand, he placed hers on the crank on the side and began moving it. MC looked up at him and he smiled ever so slightly. “See? Idiot proof.”

Realizing the close proximity between them, Victor cleared his throat and moved away from her quickly. “Measure out the sugar next,” he told her. “I’ll do the butter. We have to add them together in the mixer.”

Victor handed her a measuring cup, and their fingers brushed together as she took it from him. MC paused for a moment, looking up at him, searching his serious face to see any hint of emotion. None.

 He watched as she carefully measured out the sugar, adding it to his butter in the mixer. MC didn’t see the small smile on his lips as he watched her.

He turned on the mixer. “Now we have to put in the eggs.”

MC nodded, grabbing an egg and cracking it into the mixture. Part of the shell fell in and she let out a “shit!” before reaching in and swiping the piece out with her finger.

“What are you doing!” Victor’s voice boomed, making her jump.

“What?”

“You don’t touch the mixture, you idiot!”

“My hands are clean!”

“It’s still disgusting. Furthermore, don’t just crack the egg into it like that. Crack them in a separate dish.”

“Why does it matter?”

He scoffed, taking the eggs from her. “So you don’t get a shell or a bad egg in there, obviously.”

MC scoffed right back at him before putting her finger into her mouth and licking the ingredients off.

“For fuck’s sake,” he murmured, though she heard it.

“What? You’ve never licked cake mix off your fingers?”

“No, I’m not an animal.”

“Try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

MC poked another finger into the mix much to Victor’s chagrin. She held her hand out to him. “Just do it.”

“If I do it, will you stop touching the mix?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Victor sighed, face twisted in disgust as he leaned forward to tongue the mixture off of her finger. His gaze met hers and for a moment they stared at each other, each one waiting for the other to move. Though Victor was the one to pull away, standing up straight, shoulders stiffening. 

“Well, that was awful. Wash your hands and we’ll continue.”

MC frowned, disappointment and embarrassment settling in. She often felt this way around Victor. Though he annoyed her, there were certain little moments when something he’d say or do would make her heart flutter, and for a split second she’d wonder if there was something between them. She couldn’t help but feel happy at the thought of it, though she tried to bury it. There’s no way that Victor was into her that way. He barely tolerated her.

And, she scolded herself, what would really come out of it even if he was interested? He was her boss. He was an asshole. And she was a moron, as he often reminded her. 

MC took a breath as made her way to the sink to wash away the traces of their tongues on her hand. Victor instantly noticed the change in her demeanor. He didn’t say anything but watched her out of the corner of her eye. He, of course, knew all too well about those shared moments, and had to stop himself often from admiring her. It was inappropriate, and could mean danger for her, and he only wanted what was best for MC. 

❤Part Two coming soon ❤

Masterlist

[farklelucas]

contact, psyche, and wild card for Margo since you said her and Ceto might get along

contact: how does your OC(s) feel about touch/physical contact? are they affectionate? if so, how do they display affection to others?

so here’s the thing. margo. puts up a big front. like, acts like a total bitch, sharpens her nails into claws, angry constantly and consistently. with strangers/people she doesn’t usually feel comfortable with people touching her or touching them, but like when she knows them. oh boy. jackson and liam often put their arms around her or lay with her on the couch, snuggle with her, hold her hand, and she’s totally cool with all that, enjoys it even. and then with girlfriends she like. melts at physical touch. touching her hair, cupping her face, hugging her, holding her hand, (i wasn’t gonna put this one in here but tbh she would begrudge me forever otherwise) touching her ass–all fucking. kills her. she loves it. yes.

psyche: what’s their head space like? do they have any mental illnesses? how do they process difficult or emotional situations? what are their coping mechanisms?

she definitely has depression, because she’s very “i wanna die!” even though she covers it up with confidence and like. leadership skills. her brain is kind of just. imagine baby shark but like a really sad and minor key okay i looked it up and found it and i was not disappointed. so that’s kind of what her brain sounds like, and it looks like. a haunted filing room? idk if that makes sense. anyway she kind of chooses to ignore all emotions and, instead, do literally anything else. depressed? falling down a simply nailogical youtube hole. angry? drinks a bottle of jack daniels. turn it off! (she has no idea what that reference means, what is she, a fucking nerd, liam?)

wild card: talk about any OC! anything you want!

i love her so fucking much. she’s a lesbian and she’s so angry at the world but. mostly at herself. she’s a middle child and kind of resentful about it, but not because she’s always forgotten (it’s kind of hard to forget margo), but because she kind of just… feels lesser. but she’s not! she’s so much, actually, that sometimes delilah and orion (her older sister and younger brother) are almost washed out. also, she’s a dancer!!! like, no surprise, her dad is literally a ballet dancer, but she definitely takes after him. like, delilah and orion can for sure get down, but margo wants to dance for, like, a living, which is part of why she and liam get along so well–they’ve been on the same dance teams since they were little, and margo is like. incredible. also i know no one asked because no one cares about the storyline (beyond victor ahsjdkfl) but she and her (future) love interest?? fucking soft! literally that quote that’s like “in a fight, they’re lethal, but together, they melt.” like god they! anyway just. i love my hurricane of a girl, she’s honestly an angel, im sorry im done hajksldf.

send me oc asks!

[creedslove]

Kitten (Part 2)

SABRETOOTH X READER

Summary: You and Victor have recently started being sexually intimate and since he is not actually used to being touched/affectionate he pushes you away. When you adopt a kitten, he gets jealous of it.

Warnings: Mention of sex, angst, fluff and Victor being a jerk

A/N: So I've been struggling with Tumblr since I started this piece, and now I can't post the entire story because it says it is too long, so I'll break it in two or three parts, I don't know yet. I really hope you all like it because this has been making me so stressed I wanna cry again

Part 1

Victor rolled his eyes the moment they captured you and your new friend playing around outside. It was a warm afternoon and you decided to spend it outdoors as the man considered going hunting. He did need a distraction after all, but he changed his mind as soon as he spotted you picking some flowers as your new pet rubbed itself against your legs playfully. How could this frail be more pathetic and predictable was beyond him. You sat down and leaned against an old tree as you started organizing the flowers you collected previously by color. He turned around and when he prepared himself to exit the room, your giggle caught his attention again and he returned to the kitchen window to check what was the reason of it. He growled when he saw your kitten climbing your lap and getting comfortable all around you, as you gently petted it. A wave of happiness sweetened you scent even more and he knew exactly that hideous fur ball was the cause of it.

Your scent hadn't been that sweet in a while, more precisely in two weeks. Two weeks you had that little… incident. Instead of soft flowers and vanilla, you smelled like anxiety and sometimes even around fear near him. Even during sex, he could often smell guilt and tears mixed with arousal and pleasure. He hadn't apologized though, and he wouldn't. Victor Creed never apologized to anyone, especially not to some frail. He did nothing wrong, right? He just showed you your place before you started having any ideas. He shouldn't even be worrying about it, you meant nothing to him anyway, you were as disposable as everybody else. In fact, you should be thankful for the fact he was keeping your cute round ass safe and warm every night.

Besides, why would a pretty girl like Y/N care about him anyway? You were just a frail and he knew how frails were. They were all about the money and that’s it. If it was the same for any man in the world why would it be different for him? A monster? You were giving him exactly what he wanted and nothing more, why would you try to do something else? Is not that you liked him. Sure you were his frail, just because he stated so and you didn't stand a chance against him to fight that. Yes, you often had sex but he made sure to give you the most mind-blowing orgasms you could ever have and any bitch would come running after him for more. But those things didn't mean a thing, did they? Victor could see no reason why Y/N would want any kind of proximity, especially because he knew you wouldn't hesitate going away in the first opportunity you got.

The truth was: Victor acted on impulse. He didn't know what to do when you came so close to him, so unexpected and so purely. The fact you displayed him a slight affection was that bad? Because he definitely knew it didn't feel bad, quite the opposite, it felt different, a good different. But Creed was a monster, a fierce animal, it had been like that throughout his entire life, no beast got the the pretty girl’s affection for free, his life wasn't a fucking Disney movie.

The feral man never contemplated any kind of physical proximity. His mother had always been a cold-hearted bitch, his father didn't need any introductions. Jimmy was never one to be clingy either. When he fought all those wars, there were many girls willing to show the soldiers their gratitude for their contributions for the country, but nothing more than that. When his bloodlust took over what was left of the man and he truly became Sabretooth, girls surprisingly still came easy. Some of them were just a bunch of mutant whores looking for some adventure; longing for the thrill of being with a bad guy and still be able to walk out alive in the morning. Others were pretty much dead on the inside, looking for a self punishment and not giving a crap if he decided to end their miserable lives with a rip of a claw.

But none of them attempted to be affectionate. They had a gentle touch, yeah, but it was only when they were stroking his cock or wrapping their mouths around his length. They didn't want to snuggle up with him or pet his hair.

From the tortures he suffered during his childhood, to all the battles, fights and missions he has been to, every punch, kick, injury and wound he's had all over his body, were pretty much all the physical touch he had. Apart from the sexual bliss, being physical translated to Victor as pain.

About a week ago, a tiny furry piece of shit showed up outside his cabin. And much to Creed’s annoyance you fell in love immediately with it! He knew you wouldn't let the kitten go and the little animal didn't want to let go of you either. It kept following you and climbing on the top of you all the time, waiting to be petted. Victor obviously didn't want it in his house and he got angry at himself for allowing a little stupid frail’s will over his own, but what was he supposed to say?

“Hey Frail, remember that I told you you were disposable and when I grow bored with you, you'll be gone? Yeah keep that in mind. Oh by the way, I don't want this stinky fur ball in my house so I'll dispose it too.”

Yes, that would be very reassuring.

He often snarled whenever he saw that pathetic tiny thing on your lap, you seemed to never get enough of it and for some reason it made him pissed. The cat itself never messed up with him, being smart enough to recognize who was the alpha in the room. Whenever that disgusting thing purred while being petted Creed honestly felt his blood boil, he considered getting rid of it many times; he obviously wouldn't kill it. The difference between animals and humans was that Victor actually respected and showed mercy towards the first group. He was probably just going to take the cat to the woods where it would have plenty freedom and possibilities to hunt instead of being all over his Y/N the entire day. He dismissed the idea the moment he realized how careful you were with it, he could tell you were very good with animals, maybe that's why you were good to him too.

- X -

Victor didn't need to turn on the lights to know the cat was lying lazily in his bed, his feral sight made it pretty clear, yet, he tried to give the girl one more chance.

"If you don't want to have baked cat for lunch tomorrow you'd better tell me this stinky thing is not in my bed.” For the first time in two weeks he heard the girl giggling at something he had said. It spread a warmth around his chest.

"This ‘stinky thing’...” you started gently grabbing the kitten and placing in on the floor. “..Is called Fluffy and it is a girl.”

Victor smirked at your words. If anyone dared to call anything ‘Fluffy’ in front of him he'd probably gut them just because it sounded so ridiculous, but right now he was amused by his Frail’s word. He didn't want to admit but God, how he missed those silly remarks, your dumb curiosity and questions and those stupid sparkling eyes.  

He lay on the bed, your back facing him. He noticed you tensed up a little and moved to your side of the bed creating more space between you.

“So the ugly thing is a girl, eh? He asked as he started to touch some strands of your hair.

“Ye-yes… it is.” You stuttered feeling his claws scratching your scalp making you relax. You gasped when a strong arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer to Victor. Your back directly against his chest, as his hand started to rub your belly.

“Frail, look at me…” Creed said dangerously close to your ear. You didn't know that, but he was holding his breath. He had no idea what reaction he'd have if you rejected him, but it was a fair assumption he'd have to clean pools of both yours and cat’s blood.

You turned to him, staring at his eyes. They were beautiful, but you wouldn't tell him that, he'd probably get pissed. As if it was possible, he tried to pull you even closer now. His hand resting on the small of your back, as you stared at each other for what it seemed hours. He finally ran his hand up and down your back as his claw playfully scratched you. He motioned for you to rest your head on his chest and you obeyed him. Your arms shyly rested against his front.

"Can I touch you, Victor?” You asked trying to make sure he was okay with it.

He nodded ready to slice your throat open in case you made any comment about how tense he got, but to his surprise you continued:

"Tell me if this is off limit, okay?”  He saw you asking him so sweetly as you rubbed your face against his chest hair and curiously took your hand to caress it as well.

“It feels so soft, almost like fur…” You gave him a wide smile as he tried holding back a purr.

"Yes, that's part of being an animal, Frail…” Victor tried to sound disinterested as your hand gently moved up and down around his torso and stomach area. You made a mental note to pay attention to his abs later, if he was okay with it, maybe instead of running your hand through it, you could run your lips or your tongue… You pressed your thighs together but furrowed your eyebrows at his answer.

“I don't think you are an animal, Victor.” You stated as your hand coincidently rested against his heart that was now beating faster and faster. Both you stared at each other again, pretending you couldn't listen to Victor’s loud heartbeats .

He leaned in and kissed you more passionately than ever, not in a hurry, not in a dominant way, he just wanted to feel you. You kissed him back, never stopping caressing his soft skin. You felt his chest vibrating and a purr came out. You smiled during the kiss.

"I didn't know you could pu-...”

Victor interrupted you deepening the kiss.

“Shut up Frail, before you ruin the moment.”

He silenced you as he rolled on the top of you knowing that once you were done, there would be a new amount of sensations he would try.

[blurrybowers]

our favorite girl: bowers gang imagine

this was requested by a reader, I hope you enjoy it. I tried to make the whole gang flirt with y/n.

bowers gang x reader

(A little heavy on the reader & Henry)

word count : 1300+

•••

I sat at the quarry with Belch, Victor, Patrick and of course Henry. They were seeing who could jump the farthest into the water but of course I decided to sit out on this one, primarily because it was dangerous as fuck. They were all in their underwear since they had forgotten their clothes and I wasn't complaining.

"Y/n come in!!" Belch said as I watched from the top of the rock. I frowned and shook my head.

"Quit being such a pussy you brat!" Henry yelled at me and I rolled my eyes. He was always the most harsh to me out of all the guys, if he were ever to even say something somewhat nice, the guys called him soft and he would be even meaner than usual.

"Fine fuck you all." I yelled, throwing my dress over my head , taking off my shoes and jumping in. I screamed as I jumped off of the tall rock and felt the cold water engulf over me.

"See, it wasn't that bad!" Victor cheered and patted me on the back.

"That was terrifying." I laughed pushed my hair out of my face to catch Henry just staring at me.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer Bowers." I smirked at him and he turned red and gave me a nasty look.

"I-I wasn't staring. This bitch is making up lies!" Henry yelled at the other boys trying to defend himself and they all started laughing.

"It's okay if you admit your crush on her Henry. She's so hot." Victor winked at me and Henry splashed Victor, who got a mouth full of water.

"Thanks Vic." I smiled.

"I don't like her. You guys can have her." Henry said with a rude tone.

I frowned internally. I would never show vulnerability around these guys, I would never hear the end of it.

"That's a little rude,Henry." Belch said as we awkward just stood in our underwear staring at each other.

"I don't give a fuck." Henry said quickly getting up out of the water.

"Y/n, I think you're beautiful. Don't listen to what Henry says, something crawled up his ass and died." Patrick said and Belch and Victor agreed. I let out a big smile, I'm so glad I had 3 good friends.

"Should someone go talk to Henry?" Victor questioned looking at all of us.

"I am for one not, I don't feel like having him pull his knife on me again." Patrick said averting his eyes to the side.

"I'll go talk to him." I sighed, realizing no one else was going to.

I got out of the water, completely forgetting I was in my underwear and I turned around and saw their mouths wide open.

"Holy shit." Belch commented looking me up and down.

I rolled my eyes and turned around, walking away, with an extra sway in my hips.

"Bro I have boner." I overheard Victor say as I walked away... gross.

"Dude what the fuck!" Patrick shouted, slapping Victor on the back of the head.

•••

Within ten minutes I found Henry at the top of the rock, smoking a cigarette.

As I came into his view he looked me up and down and just looked away, without saying a word.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, speaking very softly. The last thing I wanted to do was piss of Henry, because when he was mad, he was super mean.

"Of course, I'm fine." He emphasized the word 'fine.'

Trying to get Henry to admit how he was actually feeling was like pulling teeth.

"Okay... guess I'll leave then." I awkwardly stated ready to walk back down to the boys but he grabbed my wrist as I turned away.

"No....uh stay." He mumbled scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. This whole situation was so weird. He never was shy.

"What's up? You're acting strange." I stated, looking at him sympathetically.

"No I'm not. I just wanted to smoke." He said inhaling his joint.

"That's bullshit Henry. I'm not stupid." I assured crossing my arms. He didn't leave The whole crew because he desperately wanted a cigarette, that was a total lie.

"I don't like them all over you." He murmured not even looking at me.

"What do you mean all over me?" I was utterly confused. The guys were just flirty but they were never suffocating.

"They all want to rail you... stop trying to act like you're oblivious. You're constantly on Victor's dick, kissing up to him." He spat, then threw the bud of his cigarette into the water.

I was completely appalled. How was I constantly on Victor's dick?

I pushed him off the rock he was leaning against. "Shut the fuck up Henry. Even if this was true...and it isn't, why do you care?" I commented while raising my eyebrows.

"You're my friend and it makes me uncomfortable to have all my friends trying to get with you." He said getting in my face.

"You're uncomfortable? That's fucking hilarious. I love how your friends wanting ME is a problem for YOU." I sarcastically replied gritting my teeth.

"You're wasting my time. Stop talking to me." Henry said looking down into my eyes. Our faces were so close.

I looked up at him and my whole 'I'm so tough' exterior completely fell through. I felt tears prick my eyes. Quickly, I looked down and scurried away. I would never let him see me cry. Grabbing my clothes and shoes, I hastily put them on. I was going to make Belch take me home because I was not walking home alone, especially with all the children disappearing in Derry.

"Y/n...come back here." I heard Henry calling my name.

Completely ignoring his comment I hopped down the path and found the rest of the boys.

They were playing Marco Polo...losers. Belch was Marco and Victor and Patrick were saying polo.

"Pol-oh hey y/n. What's wrong with Henry?" Patrick inquired ruffling his wet hair.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with Henry. He's a fucking bipolar, cruel human being. He thinks he is so tough and won't open up to anyone because he is a fucking narcissistic asshole." I spat and I heard applauding come from over my shoulder.

"Nice vocabulary." I turned around and saw Henry standing there with his ripped jeans on, but still lacking a shirt.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, sorry if you couldn't comprehend it with your small brain." I sassily replied.

"Maybe if you were smarter you would realize I just give you shit because I have a crush on you. But I'm 'sorry if you couldn't comprehend it with your small brain'." Henry smirked while mimicking me.

I felt my jaw just drop as I felt like I couldn't speak. That was not something I expected...

"You're lying." I mumbled, it wasn't a snarky comment but I couldn't come up with something better.

"Yeah y/n, that is definitely a lie." He whispered in my ear as he walked by me grabbing my butt.

I stood there confused and heated, what just happened?

"Let's leave it's getting dark!" Henry yelled as the boys all turned around and got out of the water.

We all began walking back to Belch's car as we admired the sun setting ahead of us.

"That was a fun day." Victor stated as we walked toward the sunset.

"Yep, I love you guys." I smiled looking at them and leaning into Henry's side.

He looked down at me and put his arm around my waist. He was never the type to be affectionate so this was a shocker to everyone, including myself. He didn't say anything but he had a slight red tint to his cheeks.

"We love you too." Patrick added.

I was so lucky to have friends who cared about me so much, even if they were assholes sometimes, they were my assholes.

[assholemurphy]

In The Meantime

Also on AO3

IT (2017)

Poly!Bowers Gang

Henry Bowers/Patrick Hockstetter/Belch Huggins/Victor Criss

Summary: After a particularly brutal encounter with his father, Henry allows himself to be taken care of by his boys. Vic patches him up and they spend the night in his living room. Just another night in the (admittedly fucked up) life of the Bowers Gang.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2994

Warnings: Child abuse, Underage drinking, mentions of murder, mentions of bullying

Patrick ran his hand up and down Henry’s side, partly because he liked touching him and partly to try and keep him distracted enough so that he would sit still for a few more minutes so that Vic could finish cleaning up the cuts on his face. It wasn’t working because Henry wouldn’t stop fidgeting. It was probably due to how angry he was, but it was also due to the fact that Vic’s touch wasn’t exactly gentle. Usually, Henry would have just shrugged him off and told him to quit fussing over him like a bitch because he wasn’t some kind of wounded animal and he didn’t fucking need him to nurse him back to health, but it was bad this time, worse than usual, and even though he would never, ever admit it out load, it felt nice to have someone show they actually cared about him, which was the only reason he was allowing his boys to touch him right now instead of shoving them off and beating his fists against the nearest surface for being such a coward and letting it fucking happen. Letting himself be so fucking powerless.

Most occasions, after he escaped from his father or the rage wore off and he passed out in his easy chair, Henry would leave the house and go to Patrick’s, which was the closest, and from there he would have Patrick call Belch, who would pick up Vic and they’d find something to do, someone to fuck with, most often one of the little loser freaks from school, they were easy targets and fun to screw with. It made him feel better, like he wasn’t so powerless, to shove them around and let go of some of the anger that he couldn’t take out on his dad for fear of making it worse for himself. If he could have hit his father back, he would have, but he’d tried that a couple times and each time he’d ended up in the hospital with doctors pressuring him into spilling his guts. Like he’d ever do that. He wasn’t the brightest, but he wasn’t fucking stupid.

But this time, instead of chasing down one of those losers, Vic had taken one look at the cuts on his face and the gash that was bleeding all over him and demanded that Belch take them to his house, so he could patch Henry up and keep him from bleeding out, and Henry had been too overwhelmed from the fight to protest. It was probably for the best, since his shirt was soaked with blood from the gash on his shoulder that Patrick kept poking at.

“You’re gonna need stitches in that,” Belch told him from his side of the couch. He was watching the scene in front of him with a look that was half concern, half barely concealed rage. If he could get away with it, he’d beat the shit out of Henry’s father, but he couldn’t. Not because he’d probably get his ass handed to him, Belch wasn’t scared of that, but because he was a cop, he’d have him arrested, and then he’d just take it out on Henry later and he’d come out even more fucked up, he’d probably bypass the hospital and go straight to the morgue. But that didn’t stop Belch from wanting to do something, anything. He and Patrick even had a pretty solid plan to get rid of him should the chance ever present itself, but it probably wouldn’t.

Henry squirmed around in Patrick’s lap as Vic touched a piece of gauze soaked in antiseptic to the worst of the cuts on his face, from where his father’s ring had caught him. He jerked away with a hiss.

“Stop being such a pussy,” Vic frowned, chasing after him. “If you think this hurts, just wait until I stitch up your arm. That’s gonna hurt like a bitch, because I don’t have anything to numb it with.”

Vic had done a bit of research in the library, not that he’d ever tell the guys he’d been there, willingly, too, and even charmed one of the nurses at the hospital into telling him the basics of first aid after the last time Henry had ended up there. It had been really bad that time, worse than now. Henry had had a concussion and there had been around twenty or so shards of glass stuck in his head, but even then he hadn’t told the doctors what had happened, he’d just spewed curses and let them clean him up before leaving, against the doctor’s wishes and crashing at Belch’s.

Vic had learned not because he liked it, he hated the idea of taking care of other people, he’d rather be the one inflicting the damage than cleaning up the aftermath, but he’d learned out of necessity. The less they had to go to the hospital, the less questions the doctors could ask, and therefore the less suspicion it would cast on Butch because the more people noticed, the more he took it out on Henry. It was just safer for Henry not to go, even when he really should have.

So, Vic knew a bit, not enough to save anybody’s life, but enough to patch up Henry, and occasionally Patrick when he picked a fight with someone bigger than him and there was nobody there to back him up, because Patrick liked violence, even if it meant he was the one getting hurt, just a little too much. Not that it made Vic love him any less, but he did worry about him sometimes, Belch did, too, but he was more of the opinion that Patrick’s greatest danger came from himself, rather than the people he fucked with. But, there was nothing Vic could do about that, so he focused his efforts on the outside dangers to him, and did his best to be there when Patrick started fights, even if that meant he had to coach Belch through basic first aid when he was the one needing assistance.

Belch was the one he worried least about. Belch didn’t start needless fights, his mom was a sweet lady – her house was the one place they knew they were safe, which had been proven to them on the nights when Butch had come looking for Henry and she’d politely turned him away, despite none of them directly telling her what was going on – and he was probably the most stable of them all. Sometimes, Vic was even a little bit jealous of him, for having his mom when Vic’s parents were mostly out of town or just ignoring his existence. It would have been nice to have someone ask him about his day, push him to get better grades – even if they were already good without much trying – and a home cooked meal (that didn’t come from Mama Belch) once in a while, but he didn’t have that, and it wasn’t worth dwelling on, so he shoved it aside. Besides, as sweet as Belch’s mom could be, she had nothing on her son when he was in an affectionate mood. Henry hated being doted on, Patrick couldn’t care less and would just make fun of him for being sappy, so most of the time Vic was the one Belch was affectionate with, and as much as he would pretend otherwise, he loved it.

“Ow! Goddammit, Patrick, I swear to god, if you don’t stop treating me like a fucking science experiment, I’m gonna fucking knock your teeth out!” Henry snapped, pulling Vic away from his thoughts and back into his living room.

He watched as Henry tried to elbow Patrick in the face, but missed due to the awkward angle, Patrick snickering and grabbing his arm, holding it in Henry’s lap. “Stop moving, asshole, you’re gonna get blood on the couch and then Vic’s head will explode.”

“Fuck the couch! Stop touching me!”

“Then get off my lap,” Patrick shrugged, letting go of Henry and leaning back, waiting for him to leave.

Henry huffed angrily but made no move to leave. He didn’t want to get off of him. He didn’t want to lose the contact. As much as he hated himself for it, he needed it right now. “Just leave my shoulder alone.”

“But-”

“Just leave it alone, Patrick, you’re making it worse,” Vic demanded. “Just hold him still while I stitch it up.”

Patrick smiled smugly and wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist, pulling him against his chest and whispering in his ear. Vic couldn’t make out what he was saying, but no doubt it was something filthy. The only time Patrick ever stopped antagonizing Henry was when he wanted to get laid. Still, he seemed to be doing a decent job of distracting Henry, so Vic wasn’t going to complain.

Vic looked over the wound and sighed before handing the supplies he needed to Belch, leaning over to get a better view of the gash. It was bleeding pretty badly, but not enough for him to bleed out. Vic winced at what would happen if he really did get blood on his mother’s new couch. He didn’t think she’d get too angry, as it wouldn’t be the first time it happened, but he’d rather not make her any more passive aggressive towards him, when she did acknowledge his existence, anyway.

It took him a while to thread the needle, but he finally got it and set out to work on stitching Henry’s shoulder, trying to ignore the little grunts of pain Henry was giving out as he purposely looked anywhere but at his shoulder. He was gripping Patrick’s so hard his knuckles were almost white, but Patrick didn’t seem to care, he just kept using his free hand to tease Henry, running it up his side under his shirt, playing with the waistband of his pants, anything he could get away with.

From what Henry had told them, which wasn’t much, as reliving it wasn’t something he found pleasant, Butch had gotten pretty drunk and shattered a bottle on the wall next to Henry’s head to intimidate him, and as he pulled it away, his hand dropped and the edge caught Henry’s shoulder and tore it open. Butch had then grabbed him by the throat and punched him in the face a few times while screaming at him. Henry hadn’t said about what, but Vic could guess it was something about his mother. That seemed to be the main reason for Butch’s abuse these days.

“Bastard,” Vic muttered quietly, trying to keep his stitches even. He wasn’t the best at sewing, but he had practiced a bit after buying the kit. Not enough to be good at it, but enough so that his hands didn’t shake and his stitches weren’t haphazardly strewn across Henry’s skin like a crazy connect the dots puzzle.

“So, do you think you could sewn an extra limb on him, if you tried?”

Vic paused to look at Patrick with his eyebrows raised, “Why? You got an extra limb hidden in your closet you’d like to offer up?”

“I could get one.”

“Where? I’m pretty sure the hospital keeps the morgue locked and you don’t have the balls to kill anything bigger than a house cat,” Belch snorted.

Patrick just shrugged and rested his chin on Henry’s good shoulder, “I’ve never tried to kill an adult, but I bet I could.”

“Yeah, well, be careful when you test that theory, they’ve got DNA evidence and shit now,” Belch rolled his eyes and made a face at Vic that caused him to huff out a laugh.

“You don’t actually have to kill someone to take their limbs, though. Could just kidnap them or something, then let them go,” Vic shrugged, tying off the stitches and cutting the loose string.

Patrick smiled, “Then we could attach it to Henry the next time his dad goes apeshit.”

Henry scowled, “I’m not letting you attach anything to me, you fucking freakshow.”

“Suit yourself, but I think it’d look cool.”

Belch rolled his eyes again, something he did quite often when Patrick was talking, “You wouldn’t know cool if someone stripped you naked and threw you out in the Arctic.”

Patrick scoffed but didn’t reply, instead fixing his attention back on Henry and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck while running a hand up Henry’s chest, making him shiver.

Henry ignored the advance, instead looking at his shoulder, asking, “Are you done?”

“Just got to finish bandaging it.”

“Good,” Henry sighed. “I could really use a drink. You got anything left?”

Vic snorted, surprised it hadn’t been the first thing Henry thought of when they’d gotten there. “Dad restocked the liquor cabinet before they left.”

“I love your dad,” Belch laughed softly. Vic’s parents didn’t seem to care that they drank, or if they did, they didn’t say anything, so more often than not, they’d sit around in Vic’s living room and get drunk off of whatever was in the liquor cabinet.

“Go get whatever you want and bring it in here. Just don’t puke on the couch.”

Belch nodded as he got up and left towards the kitchen as Vic finished bandaging Henry’s shoulder.

“There. You’re all set. Just don’t get it wet and you’ll be alright.”

“It’s gonna get wet when I shower.”

“Then at least change the bandages.”

“I’m out of gauze.”

“Take some home. Fuck knows I’ve got too much.” He hadn’t been sure how much he’d need, so he’d bought quite a bit when he’d made up the kit. It had been funny, the look on the pharmacist’s face when he’d checked out. When he’d asked what Vic was up to, he’d simply told him to mind his own fucking business and left.

Henry nodded and relaxed against Patrick as Vic wandered into the kitchen to wash his hands clean of Henry’s blood. He heard Henry talking to Patrick, “I’m gonna kill him one day.”

“Want help?” Patrick asked, sincerely as he pressed his face against Henry’s shoulder. He was ready to kill Butch, at any time. Not just because he was curious as to what killing an adult would feel like, but because he did, in some twisted way, care about Henry. Henry was his, and the fact that Butch would lay hands on what belonged to him enraged him. But Belch was right, if they did anything, it would just make it worse.

“Sure,” Henry sighed, letting his head drop back. “I wanna gut him like a fish with one of his own fucking bottles. Fucking jackass.”

Vic returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on his shirt as he watched them for a second before clearing his throat, “You wanna stay here for a few days? My parents won’t be back ‘til next week and you’ve got enough clothes here to last you. Both of you can stay. Belch, too.”

They may as well all stay there. It happened often enough, usually after Henry got away from his dad, or whenever Vic was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the size of the house. It was big, too big for one person, so they stayed here quite often, except for when his parents were home, then they crashed at Belch’s.

Henry closed his eyes for a moment as Belch returned, holding a couple bottles and four glasses. “That might be for the best. If I go back now I’m gonna stick a knife in his neck.”

“I don’t see how that would be a bad thing.” Patrick mumbled against Henry’s skin.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison.”

“It’d be better than spending it with him.”

“I’ve got two more years before I graduate and get out of here. I can make it,” Henry reasoned. He’d come up with a plan, already started saving money. He’d leave as soon as he graduated, and he was taking all of them with him. They’d discussed it a few times before, and were in agreement on leaving Derry.

Belch set the alcohol down on the floor in between them and wrapped an arm around Vic’s waist, pulling him against his chest, “Thanks.”

“It’s not like I bought it.”

“No, fuck– Thanks for keeping our dear leader’s guts inside of him.”

“Whatever,” Vic shrugged, but he smiled and let Belch pull him down onto the couch and into his lap. It was how they spent most weekends, most nights, really. All four of them on the couch, be it at Belch’s or here, watching whatever was on television and forgetting how fucked up everything was for just a little while.

He wished their lives were different – better, easier – and that they didn’t have to sneak around to do this. Maybe in a few years it would be different. He was the only one with grades good enough for college, but he didn’t care where. They’d all follow Henry wherever he went. To another state, another couch, where they’d get drunk and watch reruns of shitty tv shows every weekend and work dead end nine to five jobs they all hated, but it would be okay because as much as it sucked, it’d be better than this. Better than Henry living in fear, or Patrick’s overbearing mother, or Vic’s absent parents, haunting the house likes ghosts long past. Belch would be the only one with a reason to come back, and that was okay. Vic wouldn’t mind coming back for Christmas with Mama Belch.

Vic watched as Patrick flipped through the channels, searching for anything entertaining. He hesitated for a second before reaching over and taking Henry’s hand, shrugging when Henry gave him a questioning look. Henry made no move to pull away, though, so Vic held on to him. Two more years. They could last two more years. In the meantime, this was enough to keep them grounded.