#okay well count me as grotesque and hideous

[freckledsweetpea]

I just don't understand the money people waste on botox to immobilize their face.

I don't get it. I'll accept you have every right to make that choice and I truly hope you feel hot. But I don't want to be your friend.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Nightmare

Request from Anon: I’ve been suffering really bad dreams and nightmares that are leaving me shaken the next day and all. And basically, I would really like and appreciate Ezekiel comfort post these dreams. He doesn’t know what the dreams are, so possibly he feels angry and sad on behalf of the s/o when she reveals the truth. The dream topic is quite triggering (bluntly, it’s sexual assault).

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!

MASTERLIST

Translations:

Eres mia y yo soy tuya --  You are mine & I am yours.

Siempre.Yo también mi amor. Yo también. --  Always, me too my love. Me too.

Ezekiel Reyes (Ez) x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: TRIGGERING TOPIC, extensive mention of sexual assault, language, angst, mention of self-hatred. PLEASE don’t read any further if this is upsetting in any manner or form to you!!

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

        ---FLASHBACK---

It was always the same nightmare, the same abandoned alleyway, and the exact same strange man following her for the last ten minutes. She’d just left Lettie’s surprise birthday. Nothing could’ve wiped the smile off her face that day, unbeknownst to Y/N. Her heart accelerated uncertain of what to do next as her feet sprinted a second faster. Her skin tinged with heat; her eyes dilated in trepidation. She remembered that disturbing night like the back of her hand, never forgetting a spare detail. Nausea trounced through Y/N as she turned the next street corner.

Her vision soon blurred into shapeless blobs the nearer Y/N traveled home but the pitter patter of blatant footsteps haunted her. It was the world’s fucked adaptation of Groundhog’s Day dooming Y/N to repeat her horrid deliriums. Of course, details change a time or two but never enough to ease her panicked heart. Her own screams troubled her subconscious. 

With her body aching for rest and her mind preoccupied elsewhere, Y/N begged for one peaceful night of sleep. But when her eyelids shut, another tale came to life lurking beneath the shadows. She never knew his name; the asshole who so vehemently manhandled her in a very public and humiliating tactic.

Her purple nails slashed ferociously at his skin imprinting shallow cuts against his shaggy suntanned skin. His grotesquely bulky hand gripped her neck temporarily blocking her airways, lifting Y/N momentary levitating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nooo. Rapid sobs clawed at her throat in a forceful manner. She gawked in horror as he devoured her every inch by creepy inch. 

A predator claiming his kill.  She’d loathed the sickening grin playing on his edge of his lips until he smashed the back of her head against the red-bricked wall.  An unwillingly imprint stamped in her disturbing memory.

This time her vision embarked into dusky darkness similar to that of a curtain collapsing. Black spots prickled her advantageous points of her sight. Goosebumps trickled down her arms in response to the howling wind hitching her dress dangerously high. His callused fingers rubbed harshly stroking the outside of her lace underwear. Once the shock deteriorated, Y/N glowered blankly at the devilish black irises. A burst of energy tingled the tip of her fingers migrating within her muscles and bones protesting a final shout of defiance. Her ears resonated tortuously, her voice reverberated from her windpipe, and her knee left the ground in haste connecting perfectly with his groin.

“Ooof, you fuck---ing bitch.” The man coughed violently falling to the paved cement.

She planted her hands trivially atop his chest pushing with every ounce of strength thrusting him away from her.

Y/N gritted in pure fury. “Fucking asshole!”

Without a second glance Y/N ran, she sprinted until approaching Lindo’s ice cream parlor two three away. She’d never been so thankful for high school cross country in her entire life. Replaying her phone call to Ez overwhelmed her countless times a day, listening to the spooked man on the other end. The only man she’d grown to trust since the incident. It was also a call Ez couldn’t erase from his head listening to the dead tone. Never in a million years did Ez conjure hearing her disconnected tone. He found her easily enough sitting on the plastic chair near the window.

Her back hunched sitting far from human contact. Still, the moonlight reflected off her in the most radiant of ways. Effortlessly magnificent. The bell hummed as the door closed behind Ez. Y/N didn’t look up until two brown boots met her penetrating stare. The rest was history. Ezekiel was more committed and in love with her than ever. He placed a kiss on her forehead resting his chin on her head. There was no hiding the flinching shudder that overtook her before Y/N leaned into his touch.; calming and familiar. He brought her into his tattooed arms, his comforting fingers ran along her spine. He’d never hated silence so much than in that very moment.

        ---PRESENT---

Ez awoke from his slumber when Y/N started to mumble incoherently, her body whipped back and forth riddled with unreleased anxiety. Perspiration glistened along her exposed skin falling into droplets on their indigo/cobalt sheets. Her eyeballs bounced around her shut lids further worrying Ez. His left hand gently shook her arm hoping to stir, to throw him a damn sign, anything to know she was okay. Her nightmares were becoming a nightly occurrence. Just like lightening, Y/N bolted up chest heaving for fresh air. Her eyes scanned their room grasping she was home, with Ez. She whimpered burying her face into his neck. Wet streaks shot down his neck as tears specked her cheeks.

“Baby, Y/N; can you hear me?”

Y/N continued to glare straight refusing to glance at the angel by her side. Her room shifted into familiarity exhaling boisterously. Blood pressure returned to normal levels allowing her a moment of vital clarity.

A meek ‘Yes’ stumbled from her quiet lips.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? What’s eating at you baby girl?”

To this day, Y/N never mentioned what happened that night, the assault. Whether it was shame or humility, Y/N was still working through the motions. Past experiences taught her to maintain an open heart to healing but the impenetrable wall inside stopped her. obviously so, he knew something was up when he picked her up, but he never asked any questions. Shortly after they became lovers, their friendship strengthened far greater than either prepared for.

Soon, they became inseparable entangled in each other’s lives, and they were simply happy. Y/N was a hard book to crack, keeping her emotions in check, embracing rational thinking for any and all decisions. She was the only other woman to beat his GPA, challenge his testimonies, and explode into contagious laughter at the drop of a hat. Falling in love with Y/N was the easiest decision Ez made in the last ten years.

“I’m here. I’m here” chanted repeatedly, a whisper in the calm of night.

“Almost a year and a half ago…. I—” Y/N shuttered as her courage began to waver.

Ez cupped her face bringing them to eye level. His amber orbs calmed her, oozing protection and unconditional love.

“Go on…or well, don’t? The choice is completely yours.” Internally, his blood boiled with concern. Y/N was the bravest girl he’d ever encountered, it wasn’t like her to stay hush hush. Ezekiel swore he’d kill whoever scared the living shit out of her, to the bastard who rattled her bones. And, he definitely wasn’t a man to fall back on his promises.

Y/N’s rolled her eyes at his cuteness, Ez was the ying to her to yang. She’d never trusted someone the way she treated Ezekiel.

“I was aa-a-attacked. After Lettie’s 18th bday.”

Ez ripped the sheet from his body standing up, quickly pacing. How the fuck did he let this happen? Why hadn’t she opened up to him earlier? Question after question poked at his fragile ego breaking him all the while enraging him. Y/N scooted to his side engulfing into his fading heat. She remained quiet sulking in the suffocating silence of the room. Ezekiel stayed speechless.

“Don’t blame yourself, E.” Y/N quipped. “I know that look Ezekiel Reyes…” a hint of a smirk came out of the darkness.

“Blame myself? Of course, I do! I’m fucking furious!” His voice broke into heart shredding quakes; “I wasn’t there to protect you. The one thing I promised to fucking do. I’m so sorry, so sorry querida.”

“He didn’t—he almost raped me but didn’t. I kicked him in the balls and he dropped. If it hadn’t been for those few additional seconds, I’d be a goner. And that’s terrifying.”

Ez sat on the mattress, his knees brushing hers, his hand guided to the outskirts of her thigh squeezing lightly.

“If anything were to happen to you…I—I refuse to think about a life that doesn’t involve you. That fucking prick had the audacity to disrespect the Mayans unknowing of his repercussions. Did you recognize him? Any distinguishing features?”

“Not really… Caucasian with hideous gelled tips? Breath reeked of barbecue and he smelt of pleather and whiskey. Hideous snake tattoo draped on his forearm. He followed me from the restaurant. He was watching, waiting to get me alone. I’m just ...dealing with it. Finally getting around to the processing bit and it’s scary. This shit’s complicated and I didn’t want you think I was this weakling. So, I buried it so deep within me that it’s beginning to eat away at me edging closer to the surface.”

Ez leaned in finding her lips with ease kissing her with fervor. They stayed like that a few kisses longer before faintly parting. The space between them was minimal but enough to be grateful for.

“You are the opposite of weak. In fact, you’re the most determined and brilliant person I’ve ever laid eyes on. There is only one Y/N for me and I will stand diligently alongside her for as long as she’ll have me.”

“I love you, Reyes. Eres mia y yo soy tuya. Siempre.”

“Yo también mi amor. Yo también”

Ez and Y/N understood the difficult road ahead of them, Y/N’s agonizing memories, but he was proud of her. Proud of the woman who took a stand and fought like hell, choosing to share the comfortable pieces of her past life.

Her tone excluded downhearted sadness; “I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life.”

“Stop that. Stop right there. Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.”

Discreet snores told Ez she’d long fallen asleep. He laid them down holding her determinedly. Y/N cuddled into his warmth nuzzling his shoulder sheepishly sighing. His mahogany eyes grew heavy joining Y/N in a serene slumber. The crickets chirped at the summer’s heat worshiping the moon. The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemingly glowed around them like a moth a flame. To be alive at all is to have scars. But to love openly regardless of said scars; now that, that was life’s truest miracle.

~~~~~~~~

Tags: @ifoundmyhappythought​ @angelreyesgirl89​ @carlaangel86​ @imagineredwood​ @mayans-mc​ @reaperwalking​ @prospectfandom​ @emmaveale123​ @peaky-marvel​ @kind-wolf​ @scorpio4dayzzz​ @starrynite7114​ @breanime​ @whyisgmora​ @thegirlwhowritesfics​ @star017​ @threeminutesoflife​ @gemini0410​ @ly-canthrope​ 

[dearyams]

december 19, 1985

"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future." - A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, 1843

day 1

day 2

day 3

[ day 4: upsidedown christmas. santa, who? we’re talking krampus. ]

“It’s too cold outside for this.”

Will turns at Lucas’ voice, grinning widely when Max nudges him unhappily in an attempt to shut him up. Lucas is doused in scarves, only his narrowed eyes seen between the scarves and the blue knit hat pulled over his head. Max’s arm is twined with his, her fiery red hair a contrast to the white dusting the town. Dustin and Mike are on Max’s other side, chatting between themselves about something Will isn’t particularly concerned about knowing. They’re all waiting for El as they planned to scrounge some pocket change to buy a few gifts for their parents—Joyce especially—as thanks for reuniting this Christmas.

“We’ll be inside in no time,” Will replies as he steps closer to his friend. “El will be out in a moment; I’m sure you can handle the wait.”

Lucas tugs on his scarf with a hefty puff. “Can we at least wait inside before the snow starts coming down harder?”

Before anyone can reply, the door opens and El bounces out into the snow, a grin on her lips as her cheeks flush from the cold. She saddles up next to Max, taking her other arm, before twisting them toward the bike pile the boys littered across the lawn. Mike pulls away from Dustin and sends Will a smile, following the trio up ahead to the bikes to fish out his own. Will watches for a moment, staring at a snowflake that settles in Mike’s dark locks, and then retrieves his bike, dusting the snow from the seat and handlebars. They all originally wanted a drive downtown but Nancy took Jonathan into the city and Steve is busy doing something with his parents all day so they all have to ride out in the cold to get their gifts.

Mike pulls his bike up next to Will, stomping a foot in the snow as he slides to a stop. “You ready?”

Will nods and adjusts his lightly damp gloves on his fingers then grips his handles as he turns the wheels toward the street. “I’m ready to roll when you are.”

The bike ride starts off without a hitch, laughter and happy shouts following the troop down the streets as they traverse the town toward their collective destination. Will, who raced against Dustin and Max to make his way up front, looks back with laughter on his tongue, eyes tight with joy but when his eyes lighten up, he skids to a stop when he doesn’t spot his friends behind him as he expected.

Rolling the bike onto the roadside, Will leans his weight onto the leg planted in the ground and looks back once more. “Mike?” he shouts, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as frightened as he’s starting to feel inside. “Mike, where’d you guys go?”

Only the wind replies, a soft howl that would make the wolves in the forests reply with joyful abandon. A shiver rolls up and down Will’s spine and his hands unconsciously pull up his jacket collar to block the wind and whatever else might be creeping across his skin. He strains his ears to listen for the telltale sound of bike wheels crunching in snow and his friend’s excited giggles, attempting to convince himself that his friends haven’t suddenly disappeared. For a moment, he regrets spending the past few months adamantly denying having vision problems even though said problems are very slight and certainly wouldn’t explain the sudden silence surrounding him.

Another chill passes and Will tightens his grip on the handlebars. A shadow passes over the sun, billowing clouds darkening the path ahead. Snowflakes start to melt into spores and flakes, settling on Will’s clothes in a far too familiar and very uncomfortable manner. He drops his bike, practically jumps off it, and starts sprinting back the way he came. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere—he hasn’t been gone from town for that long to have forgotten the shortcuts to get downtown, but maybe his memory was failing him.

“El!” he shouts, turning down a street and skidding on black ice that nearly knocks him to his knees. “El! Mike!”

Nothing replies. The darkness loops closer, the spores congeal as they touch the cold ground, the air thickens with a combination of unnatural heat and stifling cold. Will doesn’t want to believe it—the gate is closed, he can’t be in the Upside Down, he can’t—but everything feels ominous and imposing. There’s a tick in the back of his head; it’s the sound of the second hand on a clock counting the seconds as they pass one by one. Every breath sits heavy in his chest, even heavier in his throat as he attempts calling out once more for his friends, for his sister, for his...

Will pauses as his thoughts sidetrack him. He can’t label Mike properly in his head; this is his dream come true and he can’t mentally adjust to it. Time will help of course, and the little steps matter—today he didn’t shy away from Mike’s lingering gazes or smiles—but right now as he stumbles his way through spore-invested snow, he rather wishes his anxiety-ridden thoughts stopped blocking from fully accepting Mike’s relation to him.

Heavy footsteps sound behind Will and he quickly turns, stumbling on his feet in a rush to situate himself. His heart leaps at the thought of his friends rushing after him, but he doesn’t recognized the pattern of the steps and soon his heart is dropping to his feet once the figure presents itself. The gate is closed, he whispers in his head, the monsters are gone, the Mind Flayer can’t reach me here.

Yet what stands before him can’t be anything but a monster, a hideous disfigured thing with horns protruding out the forehead, tangled hair dripping from its skull. The eyes are yellow and glowing against pale white-washed skin that’s stretched thinly against a bony frame. Will takes a step back and wonders once again why Hawkins always haunts his life in the form of various monsters both inside and out.

“Who are you?” he asks even though he knows he probably won’t get an answer. “Why are you here?”

As expected, he doesn’t get a reply. The beast only blinks before curling it’s lips into a grotesque smile. Will takes another step back and braces his arms against his chest in a protective gesture. He thinks back to D&D, knowing how the Party often ties that fictional game to the happenings in the Upside Down, and he wracks his brain for an enemy that best describes this Satanic looking creature.

The beast cocks its head with a widening grin. It opens its mouth and Will looks away from the rotten yellowing and blackened teeth that fills its mouth. “You’ve been misbehaving, Byers.”

So it speaks. Will clenches his jaw and definitely raises his head. “What do you want with me?”

“You’ve been misbehaving,” it repeats with a cackle, voice rattling like sharp stones against bumpy metal. “Indulging in what you know you should not.”

Will’s throat tightens until he feels he can barely breathe. He wonders if this is a mental trick, if his mind is playing games on him because he’s still filled with vitriol about how he feels for Mike and fright about anyone outside his family and close friends finding out the truth. A thought pops into his head—that word, misbehaving, it’s tied to some creature Mike had suddenly brought into a game a few years ago because he had been reading some banned mythology books and got overly excited about it. The creature had killed them all so Mike didn’t bring it back and by the time their D&D characters were powered enough to take it on, well...there were more important things to worry about while Will was being possessed by a demonic shadow monster.

“Krampus,” spits Will, shivering when the beast before him laughs with distorted delight. The antithesis of Saint Nicholas himself and of course, it would come to haunt him during the holiday season.  “You’re here to punish me for biking with my friends to get gifts for our parents?”

The creature laughs even harder. “What’s the saying? Naughty or nice?” Will doesn’t offer a response; he knows the half-demon knows he’s right. “You know what you’ve been.”

“I don’t.” Will simmers lightly, unwilling to let this game further mess with his insecurities. Whether this monster comes from the Upside Down or not, he won’t let it ruin his holidays. “And even if I wasn’t nice, it only means I’m getting coal in my stocking next Wednesday. That’s no reason for you being here.”

“You know what you’ve been. You know what you are. You will be punished for it.”

The wind blows stronger, the howl growing louder until it’s a piercing drone in the back of Will’s head that he knows he shouldn’t be able to hear but his sense are distorted and the spores are melting back into snowflakes. The drone slows form it’s high pitched wail into sudden shouting. Familiar voices ring in the air and Will stumbles on nothing, reaching his hands out for impact against the ground only for his fingers to fist around someone’s woolen sweater.

“Will!” someone cries out. It sounds like Dustin, but some part of him still isn’t settled back into reality.

The person holding him up right pulls him in close and there’s really only two people in the Party who would do that and he knows for sure El is most definitely not holding him at the moment. “Will, are you okay?”

Will nods. “Yeah. I just...did you see it?” He peels away from Mike for just a moment, turning back where that taunting monster had been. Nothing stands there, not even footprints.

“Are you having flashbacks again?” Mike cradles Will’s face in his hands and Will’s cheeks blossom bright red from the amorous touch. He’s tempted to push Mike away and bolt, go running from this intimacy he’s so craved but fears now that he has it. You know what you are.

Will leans into Mike’s touch instead.

“I’ll be okay,” he replies, closing his eyes as he brings his hands up to cover Mike’s own. “It was just...,” and he doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t know if it was real or his imagination running away from him. El can’t even tell for him since she doesn’t have her powers but maybe it’s best they don’t know. Hawkins has all sorts of secrets and diving into them even incidentally brings nothing but more trouble and Will wants little to no trouble while he’s back. He wants to make happy memories here instead of being trailed by the despair that cradles every snow-covered inch of the town.

“Just what?” asks Mike, pulling Will from his trailing thoughts.

“Just thought I saw something,” he smiles and squeezes Mike’s hand before pulling away, still keeping Mike’s hands in his own. “It’s not a big deal and if it is, then I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You two done yet over there?” Lucas shouts, voice dripping with humorous impatience. Mike flips him the bird but laughs as he and Will make their way back to the others. Lucas’ smile falters when he turns to Will. “Are you good? No Mind Flayer shit going on inside you?”

“Not that I can tell.” Will shrugs and tightens his collar. “I thought I saw something, like a half-demon thing from our D&D game nights, but it wasn’t connected to the Mind Flayer. It can’t be; not with the gate closed anyway.”

The kids all look worrisome but Will reassures them and soon they’re back on their way. It takes a little while for the homely mood to return but eventually, when they park their bikes and happily chatter between themselves, the joyous mood returns. Will lets his hand slip into Mike’s for a second, sure that their hands are hidden from public view, and cherishes the shock on the other boy’s face that melts into content before they both follow their friends inside the store. Maybe the creature, that Krampus thing, is real and maybe it isn’t, but for now, Will isn’t going to let the Upside Down or anything else ruin his holiday spirit for the third year in a row.

He knows what, no who, he is—a young gay boy who grew up in the heartland of America, a boy who is Mike Wheeler’s boyfriend—and he knows what he’s done, but no one and nothing is gonna make him feel wrong about it anymore.

[dustofinsanity]

𝑈𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡. 𝟙

ㅤ

Chan / Reader ㅤㅤㅤ Fantastic AU ㅤㅤㅤ Words count: 2.9k

Summary: Trying to be forgiven by all the people who hate you isn’t easy, not at all. But try to do that when a witch turned you into a cat and when the only one who can help you is the last person you hurt, the one who got heartbroken because of you!

Content/Warning: Comedy, fluff/romance, angst .

Inspired by: 100 Deeds for Eddie McDowd

Next Part

"I'm not a fuckin' cat, okay?! I'm a human and my name is Y/n!" "Yeah... Of course... And I'm Roger the canary." "Can I be Lucinda the bunny? Look, I can jump!" "Are you both stupid?! I told you a witch turned me into a cat! And I hate cats!" "Next time, ask to be turned into a hyena. You already have the voice, by the way." The two cats in front of me laughed and walked away, joking about the fact I should stop the catnip. I knew cats were stupids but these two were the worst! Why didn't they believe me? Did I look like a ca... Well, okay, I did but I wasn't a cat! I was a hum... Oh, sorry. I guess you're wondering what was happening, right? Let me explain. My name is Y/n and, before a witch turned me into an awfully hideous black one-eyed stray cat, I was an amazing girl. Gorgeous, smarter than a lot of people, funny, loved by everyone, cool, well mannered, adorable, kind, modest: I was perfect! Well, okay, I may have done some mean jokes to some people at school but... Come on, they were just jokes. And sorry but, being "a bit" humiliated by the most beautiful and popular girl of the university never killed anybody! Anyway! Like I said, I was just the coolest but a dumb, ridiculous and ugly witch... Yes, ugly! Who wears these kinds of clothes in the second millennium?! Anyway! So, that UGLY witch turned me into a cat without any reason! What did I do to deserve that, seriously?! But you know what? That's not the worst of it! That grotesque woman told me that, if I wanted to return to my true form, I had to find the only person who could help me and also help some of the people I hurt. How could I do that if I was a cat and how could I remember all the names?! Great, besides being awful, that witch was also retarded! But don't be sorry or worry for me, like I said, I was really smart so I knew I would quickly find a solution. Well, quickly... The first day, I went to my wonderful mother's house but she didn't hear my voice and kicked me away, letting Chanel, our adorable white poodle, chase after me even if I told it I was its lovely owner. It was the same when I went to my best friends houses and the university. No one could hear me and, with time, I started to see a lot of wanted posters through the city. The police was looking for an amazing girl who disappeared and, of course, it was me. Then, I went to the police station but... kicked away once again! After three days, I didn't know what to do and, unfortunately, I was hungry, really hungry. I wanted a chicken Alfredo or, at least, a large and rare steak, but, visibly, restaurants didn't serve cats so... Yes... I had to dig through the trash. But the worst was still to come. "What are you doing in our area?" Someone, probably a cat, asked when my head was between a bag of diapers and the remains of an old squash gratin. "Looking for my Nobel Prize. Isn't it obvious, stupid cat?" I sighed, grabbing what smelled and looked like a piece of a two day old burger. Meal in mouth, I jumped from the bin and was about to eat when I was attacked by not one but three cats that bit and scratched me really deeply, forcing me to drop my food and run away. I hated cats! Cursing all the feline creatures on Earth, I walked through the city, trying to avoid all the stray cats that wanted to fight with me and the dogs that wanted to... to clearly KILL me when my feet, well, my paws, became painful. I was hungry, angry and I just wanted to... -Oh, okay, cats could cry- when I stopped my walk in a small park, lying down under a tree. I knew I would have to lick my wounds, because those fucking cats hurt me pretty badly, but the mere sight of blood disgusted me so licking it... No thanks. At this moment, I lost all hopes of returning to my true form, the world would have to live without the wonderful Y/n. It was over. It was the end. It was... It was... Was that tuna that I could smell?! Lifting my head up quickly, I sniffed all around me and followed the delicious scent until a young man who was sitting on a bench, an appetising sandwich in his hands. From what I could see, he was a student but, since I had an eye slashed and blood flooding the other, I couldn't really see what he looked like. Discreetly, I walked around, trying to see his face but a dog barked and made me jump, getting my fur up. A weak hiss escaped from my throat and I focused back on the young man. Honestly, he was cute, even if he wasn't my kind of man, not rich enough to interest me, but he seemed nice. He was bobbing his head to some music he was listening through his earphones and a slight, but pretty smile, stretched his lips. Yes, he seemed... wait! Bang Chan?! Forget what I said, he wasn't cute, he was ugly and seemed so dumb and... Oh gosh, his sandwich smelled so good! "Hey, he can't hear you, Y/n." I thought, sitting and frowning. "He can't know you're Y/n." Gathering up my courage, I slowly walked to the student and sat next to the bench, meowing weakly. But, of course, he couldn't hear me because of his earphones so, I stood up on my hind legs, touching his thigh gently. Immediately, he turned his face towards me and opened his eyes wide, quickly pulling off his earphones and leaning over me. "Hey, Boo, what happened to you?" He asked, pretty worried about my state. "Meow?" I replied, faking badly a mewing and lifting my paw to his sandwich. "Meow?" "Oh, you're hungry?" He then opened his sandwich and put all the tuna in the aluminium foil before putting it on the floor and inviting me to eat. Usually, I didn't really like tuna but, I don't know why, this time, it smelled like the best food on Earth and I just jumped on it, eating fast. "Yes, you're hungry." Chan chuckled, looking at me with a sweet gaze and petting my head delicately. "Who did this to you, Boo?" "Three stupid cats." I mumbled, still eating. Frowning, Chan lifted his head up and looked all around him, asking who just said that but, obviously, saw no one. "Don't waste your time, you can't hear me." I sadly chuckled, shoving more tuna in my mouth. "In fact, no one can hear me since I'm a fucking cat." "Oh, I think I should have got more sleep last night." The young man sighed, rubbing his face. "I'm hallucinating." "Yeah, that's what I thou... Hold on!" I choked on the tuna, lifting my head up and looking straight into Chan's eyes. "You can hear me?!" Scared, Chan stood up from the bench instantaneously and looked at me, eyes more than wide open, not believing what he was seeing. And, I have to admit, if I'd been him, I would react the same way. Shaking his head, he picked up his school bag and started to walk away, mumbling a lot of things like he was going crazy, he needed sleep, etc... Sorry dude, you didn't need sleep and, since you were the one who could help me, you couldn't leave me like that. Quickly shoving more tuna in my mouth, I chased after the young man and stopped right in front of him, but he avoided me without saying anything. So I did it again. But he did the same too. "Ah, you want to play? Okay!" I smirked -because yes, a cat can smirk but humans can't see it- before running towards him and jumping on his back. "Get off of me!" He exclaimed, trying to catch me. "Leave me alone!" "Oh no, I won't leave you, Chan! You're the one I've been looking for for days so, trust me, you're stuck with me, now! And, whether you like it or not, you will help me!" Chan froze almost immediately and asked how I could know his name, which made me sigh. Even if I was really smart, I admit, I could be a bit forgetful sometimes. Then, I told him I would explain everything if he promised to listen to me, to what he nodded silently. But I couldn't tell him the truth because, if he knew who I was, he would definitely not help me. Chan was the last person to whom I've done one of my jokes. But, honestly, I couldn't help myself. I'd learned he had a thing for me, him, this stupid and poor man who was falling for someone so much better than him. I HAD to expose him in front of everyone and make him understand that I'd rather be hit by a truck than dating a guy like him. What?! I deserved better than... that! So! I had to find something else to say, something that seemed credible, something not to difficult and that he could understand with his small brain. And, since I was smart, I quickly found a perfect explanation. "I'm a witch, a wonderful and perfect witch, who knows a lot of things but my rival cursed me and turned me into an ugly cat." I said, getting off of his back and sitting in front of him. "She told me I had to find the best sla... friend to help me." "Hm, hm... You know, I would put a B instead of the W." Chan smirked slightly, crouching in front of me and looking at me like if I deserved what was happening. "A B instead of... Yah! I'm not like that, you stupid dumbass!" I yelled, my fur up once again. "That's what I thought... Hi, Y/n." Stepping back, I stared at him, eyes and mouth wide open. No way! How could he know who I was?! Was he working with the ugly witch?! Did he ask the witch to turn me into a cat?! Was he the reason of my misfortune?! "How... How can you... can you..." I stuttered, making his chuckle as he lowered his head. "Yah! That's not funny, you stu-" "Your voice. I recognised your voice.” "Shit..." "Well, now, tell me the truth. What happened to you?" He asked, coming back to the place we met and putting the aluminium foil next to him. "You won't believe me." I sighed, jumping on the bench and taking a bite of tuna. "I'm talking with a cat, Y/n. I can believe a lot of things, right now. If you tell me the truth, only the truth, I'll help you." Caught off guard by the fact he was willing to help me, I frowned at him, head tilted on the side. Why would he want to help me after the -amazing and really funny- humiliation in which I put him through? Well, I guessed he was stupider than what I thought and explained the whole story. It was the day I made fun of him, I was on the way to my favourite coffee shop when that UGLY witch showed up in front of me, making me scream. Actually, I opened my mouth but no sound came and before I could run away, she turned me into this stupid black one-eyed stray cat that loved tuna a bit too much. Like she said, if I wanted to be me again, the perfect and so beautiful human Y/n, I had to help some of my "victims" and be forgiven by the person I hurt the most. "That's a long hard road." Chan smirked, crushing the aluminium foil in his hands and putting it in his school bag. "And you want me to help you?" "The witch told me there will be only one person who could hear me and I guess it's you... I would prefer someone smart but I didn't choose." I sighed, licking my mouth. A chuckle parted Chan lips, making me frown again. What was funny in this? A witch cursed me and I had only him to help me. It wasn't funny, it's was hopeless! "If you want to return to your true form, you will have to change some things, I think." He smiled, probably thinking I wouldn't see the pain through his beautif... his brown eyes! "First, you should try to be, hm, nicer?" "Nicer?! I'm nice! I'm the nicest girl on Earth!" "Let me remind you something. The day that witch turned you into that, you made me believe that you shared the same feelings I had for you, you even kissed me and after, you humiliated me in front of everyone." "And?" I asked, tilting my head on the side, not understanding what he meant. "Come on, it was fun!" "For you, Y/n, not for me. Not at all." He swallowed, lowering his head a little. "You can't even see the difference between what's fun and what's mean. If you think that humiliating people is funny, well, I don't think I want to help you. Your situation isn't hopeless, you are." “You're rude!" I choked, really hurt by his words. "You're breaking my heart." "You broke mine, we're even." Without adding anything else, Chan grabbed his bag and stood up, petting my head gently and wishing me good luck with my situation and the witch. I wanted to yell after him, to put him in his place, but I stayed still, speechless and mouth agape, heart broken... No, we weren't even! He wasn't a cat! I turned my head towards him but, I don't know why, I didn't have the courage to chase after him, the courage or the strength. My whole body was sore and Chan clearly didn't want to help me. When I said he was stupid! I spent the rest of the day on that bench, trying to sleep a little but, everytime I thought I could, a dog barked or people talked. This city was so noisy. Moreover, I was cold. Then, I left the park and started to look for a place where I could sleep -or die-, following unconsciously a comforting scent. I didn't know that cats had this so strong sense of smell but, somehow, it was pretty useful. Walking through the city again, doing the same things I did for three days, I kept my head down, avoiding all the stray animals I could meet or people who tried to kick me from their way. After few hours, I realised I was in a district I didn't know but the scent was getting stronger. With the last pieces of strength I had, I started to run, feeling that I was getting closer from the smell when, after turning into a a small street, I froze, eyes wide open. He was here, sit on the steps in front of a little old house, his arms crossed on his knees. I couldn't believe it was him, I couldn't believe the comforting scent was his but, when he lifted up his face and looked through the street, a smile stretching his lips when he saw me, I felt safe. Silently, he took a small box of tuna from the pocket of his hoodie, opened it and put it in front of him before inviting me to eat with a slight move of his head. Ears flat and tail trailing on the ground, I came closer slowly and, after whispering a low thank you, ate my second meal in three days. "You're welcome, Y/n." Chan smiled again, petting my head and checking delicately my wounds. "How did you know that I would come?" I asked, starting to purr without realising it. "I didn't know but I hoped. So, are you willing to make some efforts?" "If I do, you will help me, right?" I saw him nod, a cu... a smile on his lips. "Well, I don't really know which efforts I have to make but okay, I'll do." "You're a lost cause, Y/n." Chan chuckled, taking me carefully in his arms and bringing me into his house where his mother asked him what I was. "I saw her in the street and she looks so hopeless, I couldn't leave her alone. Do you mind if we keep her?" Looking at her son as if he was the most beautiful and precious person on Earth, his mother agreed and told him I needed a good bath. Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me Chan would give me a bath?!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ⁓•⁓ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ Thank you for reading! 💜 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ⁓•⁓

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Goretober (Day 4)

Prompt: Smile

Fandom: Winx Club

Characters: Mirta, Lucy, & Icy

Song Rec: Ween - Mutilated Lips

Summary: Chasing an urban legend, Mirta and Lucy visit a former cosmetic surgery clinic.

She didn’t exactly have the facial structure of a witch. None of her people did. The inhabitants of Dyamond, when it was still teeming with life, had classically fairy faces. Wide eyes and soft noses. Rounded chins and less prominent cheekbones. She supposed that it made sense considering that most of them chose to take up light magic. 

Icy was an anomaly in that regard, having an affinity for the dark. She had no use for the cuter, more delicate features that her people were known for. 

She has had work done before, an operation to give her nose a slight point. And she planned on doing the same with her chin. By the time she was finished, she would have sharper cheekbones as well. Overall, she was going for a more strikingly wicked look. Something like what Griffin had, but with a more beautiful edge. 

She glanced at the time, having another ten minutes before her operation, she scrolled through her texts, none of which were particularly fascinating. The ice witch drummed her fingers upon the armrest. 

She watched a few people with rather unfortunate facial structures step up to the counter and request consultation sessions. At least Icy could say that she wasn’t hideous upon her first entry, she was simply seeking out a more edgy sort of beauty. 

They called her into the room. “Don’t pay any mind to these.” The surgone motioned to pointed tools that line the tables. She had come to realize that, that was her standard greeting. They hadn’t intimidated her the first time she laid eyes upon them. 

Normally, she’d snap with a harsh, “let’s just get to the surgery.” But she thought it unwise to provoke the woman about to work on her face. 

Icy laid herself across the operating table, staring up at the dim and familiar lights. She could hear them humming faintly. Annoyingly. 

The woman fixed a mask over her face. Icy knew the procedure. Breathe in and count to ten, she thought before the surgeon said it. She inhaled and began the count. She didn’t look forward to waking up with bandages around her face, she supposed that it was a small price to pay in the grander scheme of things though. 

Her awakening was much different this time. For one thing, she was still in the operating room. For another, there was a searing pain central to her mouth. She parted it to grumble a, “what the fuck”, but the pain took on a new level of intensity. She almost fell back under. 

She heaved herself up. 

She saw her surgeon sitting at the opposite corner of the room sporting a grotesque grin. It took Icy a moment to register that the woman’s lips were puffy and stretched almost impossibly. They only stretched further when the woman’s smile widened. 

.oOo.

Lucy held up the old newspaper clippings. A chill ran down Mirta’s spine as she read the headline; Plastic Surgeon Murders Coworkers and Mutilates Clients. “I don’t want to read this, Lucy.” She wasn’t sure that she could stomach the details. Lucy, being Lucy, made a point of slowly reading it aloud. A grizzly piece about a surgeon who grew tired of dealing with bitchy clients. She snapped on a fine September day; slitting the throats of her coworkers and botching the surgeries they were in the middle of performing. Mostly, she focused on the mouths, injecting them with obscene amounts of botox or slashing the person a larger smile. To those that she resented the most, she did both.

“Okay, Luce.” Mirta cut in. But Lucy continued, “according to the article, she had one paitent that she hated the most. She saved her for last.” 

Mirta watched her skim the article. 

“Gave her the injections and the slashing. But apparently she gave the woman an unwanted and botched facelift too.” Lucy burst out laughing which had Mirta cringing more violently. 

“How can you laugh at that?” 

“Because it’s like five years old, who cares?” Lucy shrugged. “They shut the place down.”

“So?”

“So, it’s been abandoned for years.” When Mirta didn’t respond Lucy added, “don’t you want to know why?”

“Because what happened was gory and unethical and no one would want to be in a building that a massacre took place in?” Mirta guessed. 

“Correct! Almost.”

Mirta tilted her head. 

“We want to be in there, dumbass.” She gave Mirta a thump on the shoulder. 

“Maybe you do.” Mirta shuddered. 

“Come on. You are the one who said that you wanted to visit a haunted place.”

It was an activity she was beginning to rethink.

“The nurse mutilated her own lips too.” Lucy declared. “They say that she still haunts the place alongside a few of her victims.”

“Great, that’s nice, Lucy.” Mirta pretended to get herself invested with hex homework. Though she knew that she’d be finishing it in the lobby of a cosmetic surgery facility. 

.oOo.

“Come on, before we get caught.” Lucy hissed from the other side of the fence. “Be careful, there are barbs at the top. 

She could see thin lines of blood on Lucy’s palm, furthering her own hesitance. Eventually, with a deep breath, she was climbing over the fence, landing gracelessly when her skirt snagged on one of the barbs. She brushed her knees off and followed Lucy into the decaying building. 

Only five years into neglect and it was already host to a plethora of ivys and weeds. There was a musty smell clinging to the place, with an uninviting tang of disinfectants. Lucy peeled a few boards from the door and ducked under. 

Mirta clicked on her flashlight before making her own entry. The lobby was surprisingly clean, almost ordinary looking save for a single red splotch on the corner of the main counter. Lucy busied herself digging through the draws. She busted out laughing. “Carrie Glenn popped her tit implants and had to come in for new ones.” She slapped the file down. “This happened every other month!” Her voice dropped lower, “legend has it she still returns to this very clinic trying to fix that same boob.” 

“Lucy, that’s just stupid.” 

“Why are you laughing then?” 

“Because it’s so stupid.” Mirta insisted. She jumped at the sound of a metallic clatter. She whipped her head in its direction and then back to Lucy, eyes wide. Her friend only shrugged. 

“I think that we should…”

“Go back to the dorms?” 

“Check it out.” Lucy corrected. She didn’t leave much room for protest in walking down the dark hall. 

“At least turn your flashlight on!” Mirta called. There was no way that she was going to investigate. Not even a teeny chance. Especially if the sound had come from the room that she thought it did. 

She tapped her foot nervously on the tiles, she almost hated being alone as much as the idea of getting anywhere near the surgeon's death room. She began to pace. Eventually she had enough of the silence and called for Lucy. 

No answer. 

She tried again.

No answer. 

Her stomach knotted. “Come on, Lucy.” She mumbled to herself. She found herself going rigid and at first she couldn’t place why. The sound was faint, a rustling of papers. She didn’t want to turn around. But she did, hoping that she simply hadn’t noticed Lucy slipping back behind the desk. 

Instead, her eyes fell upon a tall  woman with long white hair. Her blue eyes were both stunning and piercing. She would have been gorgeous were it not for the unnatural swelling of her lips and the fountain of blood that streamed from them and onto her collar. 

Mirta jolted back, scrambling away until her back hit the opposite wall. She didn’t like the sound of the woman’s laugh. Mirta squeezed her eyes shut. Why was it she who was dealing with the crazy surgone, it was Lucy who had sought her out.

She felt cold fingers cupping her chin and tilting her head up. She closed her eyes harder. 

“Look at me.” The woman demanded. 

Mirta tried to shake her head. The woman didn’t command twice. She didn’t have to, Mirta opened them on her own and when she did she noticed that the skin on the woman’s face seemed to be stretched all too tightly over her skull. 

Some of the tension left Mirta’s body, it wasn’t the surgone that she was dealing with after all. 

“You should go.” 

“But I can’t leave Lucy.” 

The woman dropped her and fell back. It was hard for Mirta to keep her eyes from trailing to the woman’s mutilated mouth.

“I take it that you want one of these.” She pointed at her lips. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards as much as the swelling would allow.

Mirta shook her head.

The ghost opened her mouth but a loud clang and a shout fill the silence before she could. She looked towards the dark hall and then back at Mirta. Without another word, she faded. A deeper chill resonated from Mirta’s core. 

“Lucy?” She called meekly. “Luce?” 

She heard the rustle of fabric. Something shifting in the shadows. Mirta backed towards the door, prepping herself to heed the ghost’s advice. The figure partially emerged and Mirta could see the gleam of a combat boot. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Lucy, you scared the shit…” 

Lucy held stiff and bloody hands at chin level, not quite touching her face. Her eyes bulged and tears roamed freely down them. But she was smiling. Smiling and gushing blood. A needle embedded in her cheek and another in her brow. 

She stumbled forward and reached out. 

At best she was a coward, at worst she was a selfish and dreadful friend. 

Mirta threw the door open as a pair of skeletal, scalpel wielding hands wrapped around Lucy’s eyes. 

[flyingfishflopsthings]

Hide Your Face

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415194

Summary: When Jameson suggests a trip to the theater, the egos jump at the opportunity. however, when the show turns out to be The Phantom of the Opera, Marvin isn't quite sure what to think.The villain seems very familiar.

Warnings: Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Panic Attacks

Words: 4004

It had been Jameson’s idea, of course. A way for them all to have a nice evening and relax for once. The others had agreed immediately; a trip to the theater was exactly, as he’d put it while winking at Schneeplestien, ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’ The German doctor had rolled his eyes at that and left, muttering something about booking tickets. The exact show was the joint idea of Jackie and Jameson, and so the tickets were booked.

That was how Marvin had found himself up high in the theater, feeling more and more uneasy as the show went on. It wasn’t the theater itself- he always felt most alive in buildings such as this, though normally he would be on stage himself- nor was it the height. It was the show itself. They were watching a musical, just as Jameson had wanted, which wasn’t the problem itself. It was just Marvin wished he’d had the foresight to look up a synopsis first. As it turned out, The Phantom of The Opera was not a show he liked.

He’d gone in almost blind, excited for the evening ahead. The music had been thrilling, and Marvin could certainly appreciate the dramatics of it, particularly in the overture. Jameson in particular was enthralled by the whole thing, it clearly being completely unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Even Schneeplestien was enjoying himself, looking the happiest he had since his return, the story helping him forget his worries for just one night.

But still, as the story progressed, an odd, uncomfortable feeling began in Marvin’s stomach as the masked villain was introduced. As the act dragged on, the feeling grew worse until the first half came to a head as he watched the heroine, Cristine, stand center stage, singing her desire to see under the mask before ripping it off the villain to reveal a horrifically deformed face. Around him, his friends gasped in shock at the stage make up, captivated by the story. Marvin felt sick and violated. Unconsciously, his hand flew to his own mask, ensuring it was still there. For the last few minutes of the act, he felt too dizzy to even pay the slightest bit of attention to the show.

Once the interval finally rolled around, Marvin excused himself, making a beeline for the bathroom to take a moment to collect himself. He stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, focusing on his breathing. When he finally felt calm enough, he returned to the others, finding them enthusiastically discussing the musical over drinks.

“My goodness!” Jameson was signing. “We certainly didn’t have musicals like this when I’m from!” Chase laughed, smiling wider than he had for months.

“You know, Jay? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a musicals dude. How long were you planning on keeping this a secret?” he teased, nudging the gentleman slightly. A broad smile spread across Jameson’s face as he winked at his friend.

“I am rather partial to the moving pictures, yes, but nothing beats the spectacle of watching something in person!” He leant in slightly, hand movement’s becoming more discreet, grin becoming more shit-eating. “I’d appreciate you not spreading that around though. I do have a reputation to uphold!” Despite himself, Marvin found himself chuckling at their antics, feeling a small bit better as he settled back into his seat.

The second act passed slowly, though the magician tried to enjoy the songs rather than focusing on the story, to little avail. By the time it was finally over he was very much ready to head home and forget all about the damn show. He stayed behind the others as they walked back, staring down at the fancy shoes he’d chosen to wear out for the night, trying to ignore the others.

“I will admit, that was much more fun than I had expected. It was very good show.” “You know it! James and I picked a good one huh?”

“Dude, it was awesome! I’m not even into all this musical shit, and I thought it was pretty sick! I fucking loved that bit when-” Somehow, he managed to force himself to stop listening, counting the steps they took away from the theater instead.

Until they eventually reached home, this worked fine. Feeling ready to hide in his room and attempt to sleep, Marvin sighed in relief as soon as he stepped through the front door. In front of him, Jackie stopped suddenly, and Marvin walked head on into him.

“Jackie, the fuck-”

“Oh my god, guys, guys!” the hero laughed “Us, in Phantom of the Opera!” Marvin felt his heart sink, but did his best to sound nonchalant, as he barged past.

“Sounds dumb” he grumbled. Jackie caught his arm, still grinning at his stupid idea.

“Like think about it! It’d be like, the Phantom of the Magic show or something; Marv, you’d be the Phantom, JJ would be Christine and I’d be Raoul! It works so well!” he winked at Jameson. “Isn’t that right babe?”

“Well I am rather well known for my prowess in singing.” he quipped back, grinning mischievously. The hero dissolved into laughter, loud and obnoxious to Marvin’s ears. Soon, Chase joined him, and even Schneeps cracked a smile. Marvin’s face, however, stayed blank under his mask. It felt like it was tightening around his head, pressing so hard against his cheeks and nose it felt like something would crack. Maybe it would tighten so much that his skull would be crushed, or maybe the mask would break first, falling off and revealing his face to the world.

He didn’t really know which would be worse.

Yanking his arm back, he stumbled away from the others.

“Hey!” Jackie called out, as he broke into a sprint towards the bathroom. “Hey Erik! Where ya going?!” feet beating on the floor almost as hard as his heart in his chest, he burst into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Now he was staring into the mirror, eyes wide and shadowed by the constricting shield of a mask that squeezed his face so tight. He hated that mask; he hated it with a burning passion. He hated the sharpied on features, the cat nose and whiskers, and the card suites on the forehead, the designs he’d added to make it seem less blank, less empty. He hated it so, so much. Though for all he despised the mask, he didn’t hate it nearly as much as what was benief it. After all, his white mask wasn’t his only similarity to the Phantom. A twisted urge surged through his body. Letting out a wail of disgust and anger, Marin ripped off his mask, clawing it off of his face like some sort of parasite. He ignored the short stabs of pain as the elastic snapped, and hurled it across the room. It smacked against the wall with a thud and skidded across the tiled floor. Breathing heavily like a rabid animal, he turned back to the mirror, and raised a hand to his naked face.

It was hideous. Far worse than anything stage makeup could ever convey. A mess of scars and ridges from ill-healed wounds and curses tangled across it- many, relics of tricks gone wrong that had nearly killed him. Or maybe his face had always been like this. He couldn’t remember sometimes. His stomach turned as he retraced the carnage with his eyes, the horror that he knew so well, that made him so similar to the monster in that show. What was it the Phantom had called his own face? His carcass? He recalled bitterly. Oh yes, that fit well. A mangled, dead mockery of a person.

Hideous, hideous, hideous.

He growled angrily at the mirror, and began chanting desperately- a spell he’d tried time and time again until he could recite it in his sleep. He finished abruptly, staring wildly at his reflection which stubbornly stayed the same. Just as grotesque as ever. Clutching his face in his hands, Marvin shook. He screamed, frustration and self-loathing exploding out of his aura with such force that the mirror shattered with a forceful crack.

Instinctively he threw up a shield, stopping the worst of the glass and letting it fall harmlessly to the floor. He stood for a moment, breathing heavily and staring at the mess he’d made in shock. He blinked up at himself from a thousand tiny shards on the floor. He’d never lost his cool like that before. Not like that. He became aware of a furious pounding at the door.

“Marvin!” Chase yelled through the wood. “What the fuck’s going on? Are you okay in there dude?!”

“Piss off!” “Dude! Seriously, what’s up? Let us in, we want to help!” Marvin growled, the pins and needles of magic pricking across his skin.

“Just fuck off already Chase! Leave me alone,‘cause you can’t fucking help!” the sparks stung like a swarm of agitated bees, buzzing around his head until he could hardly hear anything else above the din. “Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!” he screamed, unsure who or what he even meant. Tears crossed the ugly tangle of scars, slicing through them like a knife. He gasped for breath, but suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. “Go away go away!”

There was hushed discussion outside the door, until Chase’s voice came again.

“Okay Magic-Man, take some deep breaths for me. Let’s try calm down now dude. Now, are you gonna open the door or is Jackie gonna have to break it down or something? Cause I’m sorry bro but we can’t leave you in there alone.” Marvin dove for his mask, snatching it from the floor and smashing it against his face. There was a large crack in it from when it hit the wall, and the elastic was broken. Keeping a hold of it, he began taking deep breaths to calm himself down again, forcing oxygen in and out of his lungs. he waved a hand towards the door, letting it unlock and swing open.

The others shuffled back from the door slightly, to give Marvin more space to get out. Keeping his eyes on the floor to avoid their questioning looks, he brushed past them, mumbling something about going to bed, ignoring their demands for him to explain himself.

Marvin lay, staring up at his ceiling in the dark, feeling the last of the adrenalin slip away. A numbness filled him, emotional exhaustion muting everything. He shifted, trying to reach a more comfortable position. An hour shuffled past and he shifted again, huffing irritably. 1 AM, 2 AM. The hours crawled past agonisingly slowly, cruel whispers chasing around the magician’s mind as his insomnia shackled him to the waking world.

Carcas they taunted. Monster, hideous. You’re mask is cracking and they’ll all see what a freak you are! They’ll be horrified and they’ll see how right Jackie was. Well, they already know you’re fucked up; just look at that performance earlier! Once they see your face, there’ll just be no denying it. Monster. Carcas. Freak. Hideous.

After what felt like a million years, sunlight began to creep through the blinds. Marvin watched it crawl across the walls and brighten the room until he was interrupted by the harsh buzzing of his alarm clock. Reluctantly, he shut it off and dragged himself up. He needed some fucking coffee.

Replacing the broken mask with a spare, Marvin pulled on some fresh clothes. Sighing, he left the safety of his bedroom and headed to the kitchen.

The others were sat around, chatting over their morning coffees when Marvin walked in. As they noticed him, the conversation stopped, leaving a thick fog of awkwardness in the air. Chase coughed slightly, and tried to grin, though it came out a sort of grimince.

“Uh, Marv! Hey! You good bro?” The magician gave him an equally poor smile.

“Yep. yeah, i’m good. Just, you know. Getting some coffee. You?” He waved a hand, and the coffee in the pot lept into an empty mug on the side. It floated over lazily into the magician’s waiting hand. He took a long sip as Chase watched enviously.

“Man, it is so unfair you can do that” he muttered. “So, anyway. Uh, about last night-” Marvin’s jaw set slightly.

“It was nothing.” he lied. “I was just tired and needed the bathroom.”

“The mirror exploded.” Scheeplestien pointed out.

“It was an explosive shit?” “Bullshit.”

“Catshit, actually.” Chase groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“Ugh, dude, come on. You literally screamed and then you had some sort of meltdown. That was not an explosive shit. You need to tell us what's up, magic-man. You can talk to us you know.” Marvin snorted in disdain.

“That's pretty fucking rich coming from you, Chase. ‘Cause you talk to us all the goddamn time don't you? You tell us what’s fucking going on when you’re drunk off your ass at three in the fucking morning right?” Chase looked stunned, blinking like Marvin had just punched him square in the jaw. He opened his mouth to say something, but Schneeplestien was quicker.

“Now that’s not fair Marvin.That is a completely different thing, a thing for a different time. Chase was only trying to help.”

“I don’t need help because nothing happened.I was tired and there’s nothing to talk about.” He drained his coffee, not caring that it was still slightly hot, and slammed it down.

“Marvin-”

“No.” he yelled, eyes flashing behind his mask. “I’m done. It was nothing.” turning away, he marched out of the room, ignoring the glass that shattered in his wake.

For the rest of the day, the others avoided him, making excuses to leave any room he walked into. He said nothing, telling himself it was what he wanted and what he deserved. They should back off, and they should avoid him. No matter how much he repeated this though, he couldn’t shake the feeling of shame and hurt each time it happened.

Hours later, Marvin sat in his own room, practicing tricks that shouldn’t be that hard, yet grew increasingly more frustrating. After a particularly unsuccessful trick, he flung his deck of cards to the floor in an impromptu game of 52 pick-up. A neat, gentle knock came at the door.

“No.” he snapped. “Go away.” flopping down onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling until another knock sounded a moment later. “Fuck off!” There was stillness, for long enough that it seemed the visitor was gone. Just as he began to sigh in relief- or perhaps disappointment- a more forceful knocking began.

Marvin groaned. It was clear that whoever it was behind the door was not going to leave him alone. Pulling himself off of his bed, he stomped over to the door, flinging it open.

“What.” He glared.

Jameson took a small step back, raising his hands in a display of peace. “I just wanted to see how you were doing old chap.” he signed, more than a little nervously. “You’ve been in such a tizzy all day, make no mistake!”

“I’m fine.” Marvin closed the door, but a polished shoe stuck in the crack, keeping it open. “Jamie,” he protested. “What are you-”

“You, good sir, are a liar!” proclaimed Jameson with a flourish. His expression softened slightly, mustache twitching with concern. “Please, tell me the truth. allow me to help.” he took off his hat, and started fiddling with it at his chest; a respectful gesture fused with a nervous tic into something so utterly Jameson. The door was opened with a sigh.

“Well it seems like you’re not gonna fucking leave me alone, so you might as well come in.”

With a slight beckon, Marvin turned and receded deeper into his room again. Centered on the far wall, a double bed sulked; bed sheets crumpled and beaten, hanging half onto the floor.  Opposite, a chest of draws, gutted in the magicians’ search for a new mask. Cards and props lay scattered about the floor, amongst clothes and spell books. It was a far cry from his usual tidy room. Jameson took it all in silently, raising his eyebrow a fraction when Marvin finally looked back at him.

“If this is your version of fine, my friend, then the definition of ‘not okay’ must have changed without my knowing.” he noted. “Now, what on earth is going on with you?” Marvin said nothing, unwilling and unsure of how to proceed. Huffing, Jameson shook his head. “Honestly. Well then, as you, Marvin, are insisting on being as stubborn as a mule, it would seem that I must figure it out myself, if you don’t have any objection to that? No? Right then.”

He peered about the room, contemplating where to begin before his eyes landed on the discarded mask.

“Ah-ha!” he signed triumphantly. “Yes, this is a good place to start.” As he considered it for a moment- picking it up and turning it over with a look of thoughtfulness- Marvin began to feel nervous. Letting him in was beginning to feel like a very bad move. “This mask. It broke last night in the bathroom, am I correct? Yet rather than leave it there, or carry it back, you held it against your face, and then replaced it with a spare. Why?” he mused.

“Stop.” Jameson plowed on regardless, like he hadn’t even heard him.

“And then there’s the timing of the-” there was a split second of hesitation as he picked his phrasing. “-Incident. It was after Mr. Jackie made a jest about the musical, comparing you to the villain, who also, of course, wore a white mask.”

“Jamie, stop.”

“Not forgetting the mirror, which-” “Jameson, please! That's enough. Stop.” Marvin begged. “Please stop.” Jameson froze, hands mid sign. He blinked.

“Marvin?”

Trying to steady his breathing and racing heart, Marvin rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very weary.

“Look.” he said. “You’re gonna guess it soon aren't you? If you haven’t already figured it out that is. I-” He looked away for a moment. “I’d rather you didn’t. But I also know you’re not gonna leave unless you get answers either, right?” he chuckled without humor. Jameson looked extremely concerned now.

“No, I- I can go if you want me to. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable!”

“I- No, no, stay.” Marvin heard himself say. “I suppose I need to tell you at some point anyway.” he bit his lip, unwilling to continue.

“What is it?”

“It’s, well. It’s-” his voice shook, as did his hands twice as hard, as he reached up to his mask. “It’s pretty disgusting.”

His fingers hooked round the mask and he stopped, unable to undress in such a way in front of another. Surely Jameson would run, terrified, to tell the others of the monster among them. The thought scared him, petrified him in a way that few others could. It wasn’t a risk he wanted to take, it wasn’t a risk he felt he could take.

But still.

A part of him wanted to be free of the secret, to be able to discard the mask, for the constant fear of being found out to be gone. A part of him longed for the constant what if?s to be over. A part of him wanted to trust Jameson. He took a deep breath and in one swift movement, removed the mask, sqeezing his eyes tight as every instinct yelled ‘mistake!’ definingly loud.

The mask fell to the floor, landing with a thump he could barely hear over the beating of his heart. He heard too quick steps backwards, and his stomach sank. Of course. What was he thinking? Cautiously, he opened his eyes, scared to see the look of horror on his friend’s face, palms sweaty with nerves. Jameson’s hands were clasped over his mouth and his eyes were wide with shock.

“Told you it was bad, huh?” he mumbled. The youngest ego shook his head slightly to collect himself, before asking;

“What happened?” Marvin shrugged.

“Fucked up spells mostly. Explosions, curses, that kinda shit.” he sat down on the end of his bed, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Definatly some curses in there. No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of this, this-” wildly, he gestured at his face. “Freak show.”

“Goodness, Marvin, I- I’m so sorry. I never knew, I never would’ve even guessed you-” Marvin waved him off. “You would’ve, you were just about to, remember? But yeah, no, you wouldn't have known. No one else knows. And I don’t want them to either. They’ve got enough to deal with without knowing that they’re living with a monster.” A self decrepitating smile slid across his face. “They probably think i’m dangerous enough as it is after last night, don’t need this horror show scaring them too.”

Jameson frowned, biting his lip.

“Monster?” he repeated. “Why ever would you think yourself a monster?” The magician snorted.

“Uh, hello? Have you even been paying attention Jameson? Because of my fucked-up, deformed face! It’s bad enough I throw a magical temper tantrum whenever I get angry! Everyone knows that something like that, and something like this makes me a monster!” His voice rose and he clenched the bit of shirt in his fists. Magic pricked along his skin in ripples, making his hairs stand on end. Jameson cringed back slightly, fear clear on his face. Seeing his friend’s expression, Marvin willed the magic to vanish, putting his hands up reassuringly.

“Shit, Jamie, I’m sorry.” he clamored. “I didn’t mean- urgh.” burying his face in his hands, he did his best not to cry. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled. “I’ve got no right to yell at you about this. It’s not your fault.” A hand on his shoulder made him look up as Jameson sat down next to him, a serious look on his face.

“Now you look here, friend.” he signed. “Don’t you dare call yourself a monster because it is most certainly not true! A fellow’s appearance does not define them; your face does not make you a monster!”

“But what about in the play? The phantom was a villain because of his fucked up face.”

“The phantom was a villain because of his actions.” Jameson countered. “Not his appearance.”

“But-”

“No. You’re a good person Marv my friend. And those scars don’t change that a bit!”

“All the monsters we know look like monsters. Why would I be any different?”

Marvin thought of the resident monsters, Anti and Dark, and how no one could possibly mistake them for what they were, with their strange, other worldly auras, blacked out eyes and in Anti’s case, his mutilation.

“What about that Warfstash fellow?” came the argument “He doesn’t look monstrous now does he? Yet he’s the most dangerous of them all!” the younger ego’s face softened slightly. “Look,” he continued. “The point I’m doing my damndest to make, and you, for some incomprehensible reason are doing your best to ignore, is that how you look does not define you! It doesn’t make you good or bad, or whatever other terms you could possibly want to use. The other’s wouldn’t think any less of you if you chose to show them.” Sighing wearily, Marvin leant against his friend.

“Maybe.” he conceded, closing his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

They sat, in close silence, simply thinking in the company of the other. Later, Marvin would emerge from his room, maskless for the first time ever. Later, the others would gape and gasp in shock and concern. Later, he would explain everything. Later they would apologise and offer their support. Later, it would all work out okay. Later, there would be other challenges.

But for now, he would sit there with his closest friend, and begin to truly wonder if the play could be wrong.

[sevensity]

Hey can I req rfa + v saeran, like abt when it's halloween time, what would theydo or wearing what kind of costumes with mc? I need fluffs ❤

IMSORRYIHADSOMUCHFUNWRITINGTHISIGOTCARRIEDAWAY

If you’re on mobile, I’m really sorry for the shitty picture quality

my photoshop skills are the real horror on Halloween night

YOOᔕᑌᑎG:

Yoosung wants to prove his manliness to you on Halloween

He has this whole plan thought out

It goes like this:

Yoosung is an attractive police officer

You’ll be looking illegally fine

He’ll arrest you

“You’ve been a bad girl.”

Handcuffs

kinky stuff, basically

Seven helped him plan it out

He tells you to dress up nicely

but you already new of his plans

you want me to be your criminal?

Oh I’ll be one all right

Yoosung’s standing by the door, looking suave as fuck in his police officer

No really, those pants hug his tush just right and it’s

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit 

“Wow Yoosung, you look good!” your voice comes the other side of the room

He smirks at himself in the mirror

Okay Yoosung, you can do this! he says to himself, turning towards you

“Hey MC, I’ll have to- eh?”

He watches your sidle up to him, wearing one of those hideous orange prison jumpsuits

“Yeah?”

“Um, what…what are you wearing?”

“Come on, you’re an officer of the law yet you can’t even tell an inmate from the rest of the population?”

Yoosung tears up a lil

Dang it what am I supposed to do know?

“But officer, you never told me was I was imprisoned for,” you say with a wink

“Ah!” he coughs, “y-your looks are too sinful, it’s illegal!”

Wait no that’s not what it was

You just giggle and tug on his arm

“Well I’ve also just broken out of jail…I guess it’s your job to bring me back?”

Yoosung thought he was ready for this

He wasn’t

“H-how about we go outside for now?” he squeaks, and pulls you along.

Even after you spend hours looking at Halloween decorations and buying various pumpkin-themed snacks in the cool autumn breeze, his face still remains a stubborn shade of obnoxious red

ᘔEᑎ:

all you need to know is that he lost a bet 

Conditions: he has to dress up as a fairy princess and walk around throwing petals and glitter everywhere on Halloween night

Duration of time: 3 hours

Zen:

he’s a p r o          

some of his fans see him on the street, but they don’t believe it’s actually him

until pictures are leaked

by who you ask?

lolololololol (⌐▨_▨) lolololololol

he gets twice the amount of role offers, mostly being for dress-wearing characters

He refuses to leave the house for the rest of the week

Because if he does

“Momma look! It’s fairy Zen!”

ᒍᗩEᕼEE:

She wants to advertise the cafe on Halloween night

“Isn’t it a good idea MC? There will be a lot of people around, and if they see us wearing our mascot, then we’ll get more customers for sure!”

“Ok but Jaehee we don’t have a mascot?”

Emergency Meeting Commenced

Topic: is a simple coffee cup good enough to become a mascot?

It doesn’t matter we’re doing it anyways

Halloween comes around, and you receive your custom costume order

They’re big

And hot

Luckily the weather outside is cool ,otherwise you’re pretty sure you would have had a heat stroke

But look at you two

You’re just two giant coffee mugs waddling around outside

You almost knock over several children

hey Jaehee change of plans let’s go people bowling instead

Jaehee tries to talk to them, but ah they’re running away

A coffee cup spoke to me!

What was that the voice of the abyss?

You don’t get that many extra customers afterwards, but you do get a whole bunch of complaints

Most of them being how their children swear they saw a grotesque specter outside your door

And how you should consider getting your cafe exorcised

ᒍᑌᗰIᑎ:

His company is throwing a Halloween party, and of course, everyone has to come in costume

Jumin actually doesn’t care about Halloween

“What is this commoner practice? You celebrate the dead by pillaging houses for sweets?”

not pillaging Jumin

though that means

all the planning is up to you

MC should not hold so much power

yeah, you could dress both of you up as a Count and Countess, something cool and edgy 

just imagine how handsome Jumin would look???

but w a i t

you have a better idea

animAL ONESIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

no cats though

you both love cats, but halloween is a time to explore the depths of the universe and try out new things

and ya just

You’re wearing a matching blue unicorn onesies, and together you guys enter the party

holy hell is it a good thing that the press isn’t there

“Jumin Han Does Gay!” would’ve been their headline for the rest of the year

but shit does the man look fine

next time you get down and funky, you make him wear it again

ᔕᗩEYOᑌᑎG:

we all know he has a gazillion outfits

and it’s not physically possible for him to choose only one for Halloween

why not just wear all of them at once?

after a few hours in his room, refusing any help, he squeezes out of the doorway and waddles over to you 

#sevenwhatthefuck

He looks like he’s wearing one of those blow up sumo suits, except without the nipples

or like without anything that makes the suit look like a sumo wrestler except it’s largeness

he’s like

a giant meatball

of clothes

the costumes that had stopped fitting after the nth layer, he had tied all together and draped across himself like a scarf

“I’m ready for some trick or treating!”

you flick him lightly on the forehead and he just kinda flops backwards and rolls away

“Now I don’t even have to wear heelies to escape the feelies.”

Seven adamantly refuses to change or rather remove about 50 layers, so you successfully manage to frighten away all of the children while you go around collecting your candy taxes

no waiting in line yo

after some time, Seven is too tired to walk, so you push him back to his house like some humanoid dung bettle, and you spend the rest of the night playing games and getting cavities

Saeyoung still refuses to take off his costumes

ᔕᗩEᖇᗩᑎ:

He’s already a Halloween costume lmao

Bean’s got the dramatic eyeliner, the hair, the look

“What do you mean dress up?  No thanks I’m fine like this.”

So he’s just wearing his bomb-ass jacket and leather choker again

Nonetheless, you choose to dress up as a maid

oh my

“Saeran why is your face so red?”

“I-I used too much blush.”

You don’t go trick or treating, instead you find a local Halloween festival where they do all kinds of activities

Loves apple bobbing

He’s real good with his mouth

But he doesn’t like it how you just stand there, so

“You’re my maid, why don’t you do it for me?”

“Yes Master.”

*chokes on his apple*

You check out the ice cream stall which serves special ice cream only on that day, and you’re pretty sure Saeran single-handedly eats most of the 4 buckets they have

But next year, Saeran lets you choose his costume

you’ve had this on your mind for years

you were born for this day

Saeyoung loves it

But Saeran never lets you choose his costume ever again

ᐯ:

the both of you want to have a stroll around town on Halloween night

but 

costumes?

the guy can’t see

doesn’t know what you make him wear???

you tell him he’s dressed as Zorro, which is why ‘his face is surrounded by cloth’

He’s actually

he thinks he’s a hero, but he’s really just a sunflower 

meanwhile you take on the appearance of a gardener because ‘this is my one and only flower that I will never let wither’ 

V thinks all the comments about “how cute!” are directed at you, so he smiles a bit and he’s a tol smiling sunflower with sunglasses prowling thru the streets on Halloween night

nobody tries to scare either of you because either they think about how darn precious he looks or how the way he looms over people with his face surrounded by bright yellow petals is rather ominous

the stuff of nightmares, really 

but he’s the most succulent of succulents and you feel safe with this happy flower walking around with you

‘tis truly a blessed evening with your blind plant man

[adorkablephil]

Fic: Squish

Summary: Dan gains some weight, but it doesn't change how Phil sees him. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3K Tags: Body Image, Weight Gain, Getting Together, Blow Jobs, Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt/Comfort Trigger Warnings: Weight-related stuff and body image issues

Squish

It had already been going on for a while the first time Phil mentioned it, but Dan had been avoiding the conversation as best he could. The shame was just too much.

It was a Wednesday, and he’d gone shopping, but had brusquely dismissed Phil’s offer to come with him before running out the door and locking it quickly behind him. When he returned, he’d found Phil sitting on the sofa in the lounge with a serious expression on his face.

Dan, shopping bags in his hands, faced his friend and asked testily, “What?”

Phil sighed and brushed a hand along his fringe, tucking a bit behind his ear as was his nervous habit. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Dan looked away, then nodded reluctantly. How could he refuse Phil? “Let me put these bags in my room and I’ll be right back.”

In his room, he stiffened his spine, knowing what was coming. Phil was finally going to bring it up. Dan was dreading the conversation, but he’d known it would come eventually.

He went back out into the lounge and sat on the sofa, his jeans binding his waist painfully. Well, he’d be able to fix that as soon as they’d gotten this over with.

Phil didn’t hesitate, looking very concerned. “Dan, I know something’s wrong. You haven’t been acting like yourself and you’re just looking … unhappy. I’m worried the pills aren’t working anymore.”

Dan flinched. “Oh, they’re working. Believe me, they’re working plenty.” It had been a month since Dan’s doctor had recommended he give anti-depressants a try. He’d just been having a particularly hard time lately, and the pills had seemed to help. He was thinking about death less often, spending less time lying face down in the hallway feeling hollowed out and empty. But … the side-effects.

Phil was watching him, obviously concerned. “Then what’s going on? You always like me to come with you when you go shopping, but today you really blew me off when I asked.”

Dan gritted his teeth. Here we go. “I was going out to buy new jeans, okay?” he snapped. “Because these ones are too small now. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve gotten fat!” The doctor had cautioned him that the medication might cause him to gain weight, but he hadn’t taken the warning seriously. What were a few pounds? He was no slave to society’s beauty standards! So he’d been surprised at how much it bothered him when it happened.

Phil looked taken aback. “You’ve gained weight?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh spare me! Like you hadn’t noticed! I’m hideous!” He’d been avoiding wearing his fashionable shirts for the past few weeks, not wanting anyone to notice the changes. He couldn’t hide the increased roundness of his face, of course, but baggy jumpers could hide his body at least. He was surprised no one had mentioned it in the live show chat yet.

Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm and said gently, “I think you’re being self-conscious, Dan. If you’ve gained weight, it really isn’t noticeable. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? You’d still be you.”

Dan pulled away from Phil’s touch. “I make my living on the Internet, with people looking at me all the time. Of course it matters what I look like. Of course it matters if I get fat!”

Phil shook his head slightly, but Dan cut him off before he could say anything else. “Now if you don’t mind I’m going to go change into some new jeans that aren’t cutting off my fucking circulation,” and he stormed out of the room.

Dan continued to gradually gain more weight over the next few weeks, but then the increase seemed to level out. He’d gained nearly 14 kg and he felt like a grotesque whale. Fans had finally noticed, and some had mentioned it in comments on his videos and in the live show chat. Some had even posted tweets calling him “fat.” It made him cringe every time he saw that word.

To be fair, every time someone posted a comment or tweet like that, other fans jumped to his defense and said really nice things: compliments about his looks, arguments against judging people based on their weight, insistence that the difference was really minor, stuff like that. But it didn’t stop him from feeling terrible about it.

He’d completely shifted his wardrobe now, focusing on camouflaging his body as best he could. He didn’t want anyone to see. He thought about stopping taking the pills. He thought about it every day. Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? But he didn’t want to go back to the pit of darkness he’d been in before the pills. So he kept taking them, but he hated his body more every day.

Phil watched him all the time, and it only made him more self-conscious. Phil said he was just worried that Dan might be getting depressed again, but Dan always snapped that he just wanted Phil to stop looking at him. He wanted everyone to stop looking at him.

He started canceling half his live shows, not wanting to see the weight-related comments in the chat, even if they were attempting to be reassuring. It was just evidence that everyone had noticed.

He’d never thought of himself as a vain person, but suddenly he just hated how he looked and found himself obsessively looking in the mirror, noticing every bit of pudge, hating the roundness of his face, stomach, and thighs.

Hating his body, he started to hate himself.

It was another couple weeks before Phil brought it up again. He was probably afraid to mention it after Dan’s reaction the first time, but Dan couldn’t bring himself to talk about the issue calmly. It just upset him too much.

It had been more than a month since Dan had uploaded a video to his main YouTube channel, and he had spent a couple of painful live shows pointedly ignoring questions and comments about his weight in the chat. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

But Phil brought it up one evening when they were sitting down for dinner in front of the tv. Dan had started eating exclusively vegan again, hoping that the diet would help him lose some of the weight, but thus far it hadn’t helped.

“The weight thing really bothers you that much?” Phil asked quietly, raising his fork to his mouth and chewing slowly, gesturing toward the small portion on Dan’s plate.

Dan scowled. He considered not answering, but finally said, “Yeah. I know it shouldn’t, that I’m just buying into stupid societal expectations and irrelevant beauty standards, but that only makes me feel worse. I feel like a whale and a hypocrite!” He took a bite of his food and wished there was some chicken in the veggie stir fry.

Phil continued eating for a long moment, then swallowed and looked Dan in the face. “You know you’re still attractive, right?”

Dan blinked. Phil didn’t usually say things like that. Well, he’d been very reassuring and encouraging when Dan was an insecure teenager, but that had been years ago. Phil hadn’t commented on his appearance in a long time.

They hadn’t turned the tv on, since Phil had started the conversation before they had the chance, but Dan turned it on now, going to Netflix streaming and putting on an episode of “Death Note” they’d both seen before. He didn’t reply to what Phil had said … but he thought about it.

Dan had changed into track bottoms and the baggiest t-shirt he owned, ready to start winding down to try to get to bed at a decent hour, when Phil knocked on his door. The knock was tentative, as if Phil wasn’t sure he should be bothering Dan, which made him feel bad for how he’d been treating Phil lately. He opened the door and saw Phil wearing his pyjamas and glasses, obviously also ready for bed.

Phil looked at the ground, then up into Dan’s face, and said, “There’s something I … well, I haven’t told you … but I think maybe … now I should.” He was blushing. What did Phil have to blush about? What was going on?

Phil straightened up a bit out of his habitual slouch and said firmly, “I’m attracted to you.” He didn’t quite meet Dan’s eyes.

Dan blinked with surprise. “You’re … attracted to me?”

Phil shifted from one foot to the other and looked down at the carpet, then looked up again and lifted his chin as if steeling himself. “I’ve been attracted to you since … well … remember those Nakedbooth photos?”

“That was years ago!”

Phil blushed an even brighter pink across his high cheekbones. “It’s only gotten worse since then. I mean, I hardly knew you then, and … as I got to know you better … you only seemed even more … um … I mean…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then looked directly into Dan’s eyes and said plainly, “You’re gorgeous, Dan. Don’t you know how gorgeous you are?”

Dan thought about the moments he’d spent looking in the mirror before changing into his sleepwear. He thought about his soft, pudgy stomach, his thick thighs, and he grimaced. “You can’t mean that. Not the way I look now. If it was ever true, it’s not true now.”

Phil stepped closer, looking serious, and said firmly, “Yes now. I love how you look, Dan. I’ve been holding back from telling you, because I didn’t want to make things awkward between us, but now I think you need to know. I’m telling you the absolute truth. I think you’re beautiful. I don’t expect you to … I’m not expecting anything to happen. Between us, I mean. I know you don’t feel that way about me. But I’ve just seen how you’ve been lately, and it seemed so ironic, given how I feel, how I see you, how much I want to…” He gulped and looked away. “I just thought you should know.”

“How much you want to … what?” Dan asked, biting his lip and watching Phil’s face.

Phil had been looking at the floor in obvious embarrassment, but now he ran his eyes slowly up Dan’s body until he met his eyes. “How much I want to touch you,” he replied hesitantly. “How much I want to put my hands on you and feel your body.” He looked away again. “How much I want to kiss you.” He stepped away, further into the hallway, as if about to flee.

Dan stepped forward to meet him. “I’ve wanted that since I was 18,” Dan admitted with a smile, and then lifted Phil’s chin up to press their lips together gently. It wasn’t a long kiss, just an expression of intention.

Phil’s eyes were wide when Dan raised his head to look at him. “You really thought it was just you?” Dan asked, chuckling slightly. Phil nodded, seeming struck dumb. “I’ve been lusting after you since before we even met. Like you said, it only got worse when I got to know you and … it isn’t just lust, you know. It’s about you. I want you.”

Phil found his tongue. “I want you, too.”

Then Dan remembered what he’d looked like in the mirror just moments ago and shied away. “You can’t want me, looking like this, though. I mean, you haven’t seen me. I’m so ugly, Phil.” He felt like he was going to cry, which only made him feel more embarrassed. He couldn’t let Phil see him like this.

Phil frowned. “You could never be ugly. And your weight doesn’t affect how attractive you are at all. I’m just as attracted to you now as I was when you were a skinny teenager.”

Dan looked at the floor. “You don’t mean that.”

Phil stepped closer again and took Dan’s face in his hands, catching his gaze and looking into his eyes with such obvious love that it nearly took Dan’s breath away. “Let me show you how much I do mean it.”

It was the slowest lovemaking Dan had ever experienced. Phil stroked his hands over every inch of Dan’s body, not seeming to hesitate over any of the areas Dan found unattractive. He ran his hands reverently along Dan’s shoulders and chest, his belly and legs, even his hands and feet. The only time Phil hesitated was when his hands reached toward Dan’s neck. He looked a question at Dan, and Dan nodded slightly, giving Phil permission, and Phil stroked his fingers along the skin of Dan’s neck, not too lightly—not lightly enough to tickle—just lightly enough to sensitize the skin and make Dan shiver. Dan closed his eyes tightly and arched his head back, giving Phil better access. He felt Phil’s lips touch his throat, then just beneath his left ear, then felt Phil’s breath in his ear as he whispered, “You have the most beautiful neck. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to kiss it.” Then he followed his words with actions again, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweat beginning to gather on Dan’s skin, and Dan moaned.

This started Phil’s journey of kisses, his lips tracing all the skin he had already caressed with his hands. When he reached Dan’s belly, Dan was torn between self-consciousness about the fat there and excitement at Phil’s nearness to his cock. Phil pressed kisses to Dan’s belly, not seeming turned off by it at all, and Dan relaxed a bit, biting his lip again as Phil moved lower and lower.

When Phil took his cock into his warm mouth, Dan moaned again, louder this time, arching his back with the pleasure. Phil’s hands were stroking his hips and thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of Dan, couldn’t stop touching him, and with Phil’s hands on his skin and Phil’s mouth on his cock, Dan actually did feel beautiful. He felt desired and loved and lost himself in the attention Phil was lavishing on his body.

His eyes squeezed tightly shut, Dan groaned, “Oh god, yes. That’s so good!” and he was writhing uncontrollably, his hips thrusting upward toward Phil’s mouth though he tried to control himself, not wanting to choke Phil, not sure how experienced Phil even was with this particular act, though he did seem remarkably good at it. Dan’s hands came down to rest on Phil’s head, fingers twining into his short hair, and Phil moaned around Dan’s cock in response.

Dan opened his eyes and looked down to watch Phil’s head bobbing over him, Phil’s hips thrusting against the mattress with his own urgent need. Suddenly, Phil froze and stiffened, groaning, the vibrations reverberating around Dan’s cock, and Dan realized that Phil had come just from touching him and sucking him off. Any doubts he’d had about his own attractiveness vanished temporarily in that moment and he felt like a sex god, able to make someone as incredible as Phil come so easily, just from letting Phil touch him. He hadn’t even gotten to touch Phil much yet—Phil had come just from enjoying Dan’s own body.

A shiver passed through him head to toe, and Phil sucked at his cock again, causing Dan to shudder more strongly. “I’m close,” he warned Phil breathlessly. “God … so close!” Phil’s hands were wandering again, stroking every part of Dan’s body he could reach as his lips and tongue worshipped Dan’s cock. Panting, Dan tried to hold still, tried not to thrust, gripping the sheets tightly with his fingers as he didn’t want to pull Phil’s hair out by the roots in his desperation. “Oh Jesus,” he groaned, overwhelmed by sensation, and then his whole body arched as he began to come in Phil’s mouth. Eyes squeezed shut, toes curling, fingers clawing at the bed clothes, he came harder than he ever had in his life, and Phil drank him down without hesitation, continuing to suck until Dan collapsed limply onto the bed and whimpered with sensitivity.

Afterward, there wasn’t a single thought in his head. Dan just lay spent and languid, eyes closed, body completely relaxed as Phil climbed up the bed to wrap him in his arms. He felt himself turned onto his side with Phil pressing up against his back, spooning him, his arm wrapping around Dan’s waist, his hand resting warm on Dan’s bare belly. In his exhausted state, Dan could only feel the weakest whisper of worry that Phil would feel fat there, but even that hint of self-consciousness fled at the realization that Phil wouldn’t be holding him like that if he disliked Dan’s body. Awareness of how Phil saw him soaked into his very bones and he smiled weakly, feeling himself begin to slip into a sated sleep.

In the morning, Dan woke to find that sometime in the night they had shifted position and he had become the bigger spoon, now pressed skin-to-skin against Phil’s back. He thought back on the previous night and felt a surge of gratitude and love for Phil. Phil had taken such a big chance in telling Dan how he felt, a chance Dan himself had never had the guts to take.

He raised a hand and stroked it softly along Phil’s pale shoulder and arm, then down to his waist and hip. Some might think Phil was skinny, he realized, but Phil’s body seemed perfect to him, and he realized that the reverse might also be true.

Gently caressing Phil’s skin as the other man slept on, Dan thought a moment, considering, and realized that, while he still didn’t feel comfortable or happy with his body at its current weight, he did feel better. Knowing that Phil loved his body didn’t fix everything, but it did help. He resolved to go shopping again to buy some more fashionable shirts to flatter his current size and not always hide behind the baggy jumpers. This time, he’d take Phil shopping with him.

The other man began to stir, and Dan knew he was waking to the soft caresses. Kisses would follow, and more, and the knowledge filled Dan with a happiness he hadn’t felt in months.

[anoldwound]

I Love It When A Plan Comes Together - Claude/Bennet [Heroes]

Title: I Love It When a Plan Comes Together Rating: PG-13 Characters/Pairings: Claude/Bennet, implied Matt/Mohinder Word Count: ~2500 Spoilers/Warnings: Some language, possible spoilers for 2x01 Summary: A medieval lesbian attacks Claude, Bennet uses a fork as a weapon, and Claude and Bennet go on a road trip. Disclaimer: Not my characters, etc. A/N: You can blame fantasticpants for this one. “So,” said Claude, chomping on his waffles, “what’d you call me here for, Bennet? Wanna reminisce about the good ol’ days, do you? Remember that time you shot me? What a barrel of laughs that was.” Bennet glared at him from behind his newspaper. “No. I called you for a meeting of minds.” “Meeting your mind is something I never intended on doing, Bennet. Especially in a crowded diner at six in the morning.” He swallowed and slurped his coffee. “These poor people just might have to witness me beating your head in with my fist. Are you ready for that sort of humiliation?” Bennet’s lip curled. “Do you think I’d let you get close enough to ‘beat my head in’, as you so eloquently put it?” Claude grunted and shoved a fistful of waffle into his mouth. “Regardless,” said Bennet, and put down his newspaper to take a quiet sip of his own coffee, “it’s not just my mind you’re meeting. You’ll be meeting several other minds as well.” “Oh, yeah? Like whose?” He wiped his mouth with his hand and gave Bennet a suspicious look. “Got your people here, do you? They spying on us now? Planning an ambush?” “Of course not,” Bennet said calmly. “I haven’t worked with the company for months, Claude. You know that.” “You said that,” Claude corrected. “And forgive me if I’m finding it a bit difficult to trust you.” “You came here, didn’t you?” He bit his lip, and didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” He looked pleased with himself. “They should be here any minute now.” Claude blinked, and all of a sudden a beaming Japanese man and a tall, surly-looking woman wearing medieval clothes were sitting across the table. “Holy---!” He almost choked on his waffles. “You found a bloody time-traveler, Bennet?” “That I did.” He looked even more pleased with himself. “This is Hiro Nakamura, and…” He frowned slightly. “I don’t believe I’ve met you, miss.” “This ish Beatrix!” Hiro announced enthusiastically. “She help me find dragon.” “Dragons? Bloody dragons? Jesus Christ on a cracker…” Claude mumbled to himself. “Why, exactly, did you decide to travel to the medieval time period?” Bennet asked, raising an eyebrow. Hiro shrugged, and his grin grew even wider, if that was possible. “I wanted to slay dragon.” “It’s a rather good thing, too,” Beatrix finally spoke, peering through her long black hair at Claude, who suddenly felt unexplainably uncomfortable. “The dragon was destroying the forest. It would surely have gone after our village next.” “Well. Excellent that Hiro did, then.” Bennet took another sip of his coffee. “Yes, it is,” she said fondly, patting Hiro on the head. “She’s such a talented girl…” Her eyes looked oddly lustful. “She? Huh?” Hiro scrunched up his brows and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I am not a she! I am a boy!” “Oh…” She snapped her hand off of his head and placed it on her lap. She looked disappointed. Bennet cleared his throat. “Anyway, onto business.” He pulled a large file from seemingly nowhere. “I have a plan.” “A plan to do what?” Claude asked. “Nothing in particular. I just have a plan.” “What---how could you have a plan and nothing to use it for?!” “I always have a plan,” he answered simply. Claude groaned and rubbed his forehead. Ten minutes with Bennet and already he was getting a headache. “Never mind. Just…who else is coming?” “Suresh and Parkman were supposed to come, but they might’ve gotten sidetracked,” said Bennet. “So I guess it’s just the four of us.” “Fantastic.” They sat in an awkward silence for a while, until Hiro said, “So…what is it that we do?” As Bennet whipped out a few sheets of paper and went over the plan with Hiro, Claude grew increasingly uneasy under Beatrix’s intense gaze. “You look like my father,” she suddenly said, causing Bennet and Hiro to look up from the plan. “Er…all right,” said Claude, uncertain of whether this was a good thing or not. But judging by the expression on her face, it was most definitely not a good thing. “He was going to force me to marry this hideous, grotesque, old, hairy man,” she said with disgust, and she scowled at Claude angrily. “I’m sorry.” “You should be sorry,” she said quietly. Then, all of a sudden, she lunged across the table and started throttling him by the throat. Hiro’s mouth fell open comically, and Claude clenched his hands on Beatrix’s arms in order to shove her off, but she had a surprisingly strong grip, and oxygen was fast becoming scarce. Why was no one else in the diner paying attention them, anyway? They were all just sitting there eating their breakfasts like he wasn’t being choked by a psychotic medieval lesbian. Bennet quickly grabbed a fork lying nearby and held the prongs up against her neck. “I could stab you with this, you know,” he said conversationally. “I suggest you let go of him.” Beatrix eyed the fork and slowly took her hands off of Claude’s throat. Claude began coughing uncontrollably and slammed his fist on the table. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled, and coughed some more. “Hiro, please bring your friend back to her time period. She doesn’t belong here any longer,” said Bennet, and the stunned Hiro gave a vague nod, grabbed Beatrix’s shoulder, and they were gone. “Jesus.” He let out a few more hacks and took a deep breath. “I think this was an elaborate scheme of yours---whole point of this was so I could get choked to death by a bloody crazy medieval tart.” “No, it wasn’t.” He said this with such finality that Claude felt forced to drop the subject. “So,” Claude said, finishing off his waffle. “What’s next?” “I think we should implement stage one of the plan,” said Bennet, folding up a section of the newspaper and sticking it into his pocket. “Which is…?” “Road trip.” Claude groaned. “You and your bloody road trips.” “Oh, this one won’t take too long. Not more than a couple of hours, anyway.” He stood up and tossed a few bills onto the table. “Are you coming?” Claude looked up, and instantly froze under Bennet’s cool blue eyes that were looking upon him pleadingly---not that the average person would be able to pick up the pleading look in his eyes, but Claude knew Bennet much, much better than the average person did. “Fine.” He grabbed his coat and slid out the booth. “But don’t think I’m happy about this.” Bennet smiled. “Didn’t say you had to be.” As they walked out the door, Claude could’ve sworn he saw Bennet smirk with a smug satisfaction. Nah. He was probably imagining it. *** “Do you even know where we’re going?” Claude asked as Bennet turned onto the highway. “Yes.” “And where would we be going?” “I’m afraid that’s classified information.” “You don’t know where we’re going, do you.” “I actually do know. I just can’t tell you.” Claude rolled his eyes and looked out the window at the passing trees. “Whatever you say, Bennet.” *** “We’ve been driving in circles for the past two hours.” “No we haven’t.” “Yeah, we have. See that oddly-shaped tree over there? Yeah, we’ve passed it about twenty times now.” “You’re imagining things.” “Am not.” “Are too.” “Am not.” “Are too.” “Am---oh, sod off,” he muttered, and crossed his arms. He heard Bennet give a low chuckle, and firmly resolved to kill him the next chance he got. *** “Will you just admit that we’re lost already?” Bennet gave a deep sigh. “Okay. We’re lost.” “Thank you.” A pause. “So now what?” “It’s almost midnight now,” said Bennet, glancing at the clock. “We should stop in the woods and get some rest.” “I cannot believe that we have been driving for this long,” Claude complained as Bennet pulled over to the side of the road.   “Oh, suck it up,” said Bennet mildly, and Claude shot him a death glare. “I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Bennet,” he said, and furiously climbed out of the car. Honestly, he had no idea why he was doing this whole “Plan” thing. A Plan that he didn’t even know the details of. Or the goal of. Or anything about it at all. He should just leave. Just turn invisible, steal Bennet’s car, and drive off into the night. But he didn’t, for some inexplicable reason. “We can start a fire,” said Bennet, clearing away some branches. Claude grunted and began gathering some tinder. “Never thought I’d have to build another fire with you, Bennet.” “Neither did I.” There was something almost sad in the way he said this, and Claude had to fight the strange lump in his throat. “I’ll get my matches.” “No.” “What do you mean, no?” “I mean no. I can’t trust you with matches, Bennet.” “You can’t trust me with anything, apparently.” “That’s right.” He made a “gimmee” motion with his hand, and Bennet reluctantly handed over the box of matches. Soon enough, the fire was burning, and they were sitting with their palms near the flames. “Remember the last time we did this?” Bennet asked, rubbing his hands together and placing them back in front of the fire. “Yeah.” He snickered. “Damn telekinetic nearly chased us out of the country.” “We had some good times.” Bennet looked up at him cautiously through those damn glasses of his. “I guess. Except that part where you shot me in the gut.” Bennet winced slightly. “Thought we’d gotten past that.” “It’s a difficult thing to get over, Bennet.” He nodded, and stared so intently at the fire that Claude couldn’t help but stare at it also to see what Bennet found so damn fascinating. “It was hard for me too,” he said. “I’m sure it was,” Claude replied sarcastically. Bennet gave him a withering look. “I’m serious. You try killing your partner sometime and see how you feel afterwards.” “I know how I’d feel. But I’ve always suspected you of being some sort of morally grey robot.” A small chuckle escaped from Bennet’s lips. “I’m not a robot, as far as I know.” “Could’ve fooled me.” He smiled to let Bennet know that he was kidding---well, he was only half-kidding, but regardless. They sat in silence, the fire crackling between them. *** When he woke up the next morning, he opened his eyes a crack and saw Bennet dialing a number on his cell phone. “Whozz you callin’?” Claude asked blearily. “No one,” said Bennet. “Go back to sleep.” He was happy to oblige. *** “This is a pretty crappy motel, Bennet,” Claude observed as Bennet carefully put his suitcase on his bed. “You sure this is the only one for fifty miles?” “I’m sure.” Claude sighed and slammed his own suitcase onto his (separate) bed. “I’ll go get us some ice,” said Bennet, and left, door snapping shut behind him. Instantly bored, Claude began searching for things to do. He spotted the Bible lying inside one of the drawers, and idly started tearing pages out of Leviticus. Leviticus had been a tight-ass, anyway. Bennet returned several minutes with, not a bucket of ice, but…a puppy. “What---?” Claude gaped at him and the puppy, verses 7:11 – 7:28 lying limply in his hand. “I found him outside,” Bennet explained, setting the puppy down on his bed. “But why did you bring him in here?” “I thought he might enjoy some company.” Bennet picked up the puppy and faced it towards Claude. “What do you think? Cute, isn’t he?” “Did you just say---” But his sentence trailed off into nothingness as he saw the look on Bennet’s face. That all too familiar, grossly unfair, puppy dog look. Dammit, Bennet knew he was unable to resist that. So…wait. He wanted to… Oh. “You’re an evil, evil man, Bennet,” Claude said disapprovingly. “Don’t I know it.” A smirk curled up his cheek. “Get that damn dog out of here.” *** A while later, they were naked and tangled up in the sheets, thoroughly exhausted. “That was an adventurous evening,” Bennet commented. Claude snorted. “You’re tellin’ me. So…you ever gonna tell me what this plan of yours is?” “This is it.” “…Huh?” “This is the plan.” Bennet grinned at him. “Wait…so your Master Plan was to shag me?” “That’s right.” “Huh?!” He sat up and stared at Bennet in massive confusion. “You can’t possibly be serious, mate.” “I am. You were right…Beatrix choking you was all part of an elaborate scheme.” “Please tell me you’re being sarcastic.” “I’m not.” “Explain,” Claude demanded. “Now.” “Well, there was supposed to be a meeting of minds in the diner, but I decided to take matters into my own hands,” said Bennet. “I told Hiro the legend of the dragon, and of the angry lesbian villager, and I knew he would become fascinated enough by the story to go slay the dragon himself and bring the unhappy lesbian back with him in order to take her away from her father, who I also knew bore a huge resemblance to you.” “How could you possibly know that?” “Hiro isn’t the only time-traveler, I’m sure you know. We had others at our disposal at the company.” “Right. Continue.” “Anyway, I knew she would attack you when she saw you, thus giving Hiro a reason to bring her back, giving you and me time to escape. As for Parkman and Suresh, well, I anonymously sent them a little…a little gift.” “You did not send them a sex toy.” “I did. I knew it would keep them occupied for several hours.” Claude shook his head. “You’re messed up in the head, mate.” “I’m not finished. I also deliberately got us ‘lost’, giving us time to reminisce and get some closure over that shooting incident.” “Incident?! You’re calling it an incident?!” Bennet ignored him. “And do you remember that piece of newspaper that I ripped out and put in my pocket back at the diner?” “Yeah.” “It was an ad for a puppy. I called while you were sleeping and had it delivered to this motel. I used it to ensnare you.” “Dear God, Bennet!” Claude exclaimed. “You’re…you’re…I don’t think there’s even a word for what you are. That’s the most bloody insane plan I’ve ever heard in my life!” “It worked, though, didn’t it?” “Well…yeah, it did.” “I made flow charts. Do you want to see them?” “No.” “I labored over them extensively. Are you sure you don’t want to have a look?” “I’m bloody positive. And don’t try those puppy eyes on me again. I won’t fall for it this time.” “Oh, I think you might have miscalculated your resistance quotient.” He did The Eyes. …Dammit, he had miscalculated. “You’ll be the bloody death of me, Bennet.” “I know.” He grinned mischievously and went under the covers. It was going to be a long night.