[Awkward Tension] [Fluff] [Curiosity] [Breaking and Entering] [Hot Cocoa] [New Years] [Big Feelings about the passage of time] [Cuddling?] [Would this qualify as hurt/comfort] [More like deep pressure therapy] [Hush is cat-coded] [Doc is doomed] [Non-sexual intimacy] [Gender-Neutral Pronouns]
And like the pull of the tides, the Freelancer couldn’t help themself; their hands were on him again, just like last time. The careful hand on his chest moved upwards, finding his hair, threading through it with a gentleness that could rival the snowfall’s own. With each pass of their nails through his roots, Hush’s breath softened in his throat— something close to a sigh, but even that quiet of a sound would feel all too loud for such a moment as the one they shared.
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The quietness that belonged to the apartment’s cool air had shattered alongside their coffee mug, colorful shards of ceramic messily strewn across the kitchenette tile. Hush should think himself lucky that mug hadn’t been the human’s favorite.
“Fuck!” they yelped, their now empty hands clutching their chest. “Good god! You try’na give me a heart attack?”
Whipping around to face the culprit with a scowl, they watched the corners of Hush’s mouth fall as he assessed the mess he’d been responsible for.
“Your cup is broken,” he frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Doc.”
Dismissing the accelerated rhythm of their heart rate, the Freelancer leaned the small of their back against the countertop with a tired sigh, arms tightly folded into themselves. They let the heat of their underarms warm their fingertips, numbed thanks to the wintery draft that seeped between the window frames. They really should get around to fixing that.
“Hush, I need some kind of forewarning before you just… do that… please.”
“Oh,” he looked to the floor in what Doc could only guess was embarrassment. “How so?”
“Knock? Ring the buzzer downstairs– I don’t care. Freaks me out when you just, ‘ya know, appear.” Their words were enunciated with a wild flick of their hand. “Gotta get you a little bell or something.”
“A bell?” Hush’s expression changed again. “Like the ones that the people with red buckets have?”
Doc furrowed their brow. “Red buckets?”
“Sometimes when you’re not home, instead of waiting here for you to come back, I visit the places where people go to purchase bags of things that they need. Food, clothes. And the people standing outside with the bells and the buckets… they sure are loud. You might get the sound of those bells confused with mine, Doc, which seems quite counterproductive to me.”
They huffed a sound of amusement. “You’re observant.”
The moment Hush took a step closer, the human cringed at the noise of broken ceramic crunching beneath his feet. A memory twisted in their gut; that’s the same stretch of tile where it all happened, too, where the nauseating sounds of that Articulate’s bones and sinew snapping and splitting and… and they didn’t want to remember the rest. In a rush, the Freelancer hurriedly snapped their fingers, the smashed pieces of the poor mug vanishing in an instant.
If only they could snap the memory away that easily as well. Sleep would come much easier.
Hello! Name’s Whistler, but you’re welcome to call me Wes as well. I’m a digital fan-artist and creative writer, currently fixated on a multitude of audio roleplay channels— largely Redacted Audio (since autumn-ish ‘21), ZSakuVA, Jouska, and Reverie Audios.
I’m your average nature-loving cowboy. Gazer of stars, tender of bars. Chess player, figure skater. Holistic healer, voracious reader. Welcome to my “glorious hovel”.
(This page, as well as any of my socials in my linktree, are 18+. I both occasionally reblog and create suggestive/explicit content, and I am not lenient on this boundary; minors will be blocked.)
