you scrub at the walls, you scrub at the floor, you scrub until every last bit of dirt from last year has left your home.
but when you turn around, you find that it looks the same as before. why won't the dirt scrub out? you try harder.
it won't come out, the floors are bleeding and there's nothing you can do to strip away the dirt.
you look up at the walls, they were fine a moment ago but now they're cracked and sagging.
you don't understand what is happening, why is your house crumbling so quickly.
you hear the sound of footsteps outside, you weren't having visitors today. who is on your front porch, why are they opening the door?
why are the screaming? you reached out your hand, as if to pose a question, but they're all running. except for one, who's very still at your doorstep. why is he bleeding too?
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Summary: Jack is a werecat, a vicious monstrous beast which... is afraid of everything!!!
Warning: Me failing at horror and tension.Ā
Note: This is for @werejackau, they both came up with this au and I fell in love!!! I should also post something else for them later on (my eighth attempt at that story BUT I WILL DO IT). They post art and general head cannons so you should check them out! Again, this is only for fun!
Mark was just walking through his front door from a night with hanging out with good friends and way too many dick jokes; the entire house was swamped in pitch black. He had wanted to maybe hang out with his friends longer but he would be the only sober one there because anyone who was joining him being sober were finally starting to give in and there was only so much drunk nonsense that Mark could pretend to understand. Still he had fun. He made a mental note to try and hang out with friends like that more often.
THUD.
Mark froze. What was that? He was the only person here. He knew he was the only person here. Maybe it was just the toilet seat slamming downā¦ Or the window slamming shut. From someone opening it! Someone breaking in! His breath formed a lump in his throat. No. This didnāt happen in real life. This sort of thing only really happened in films. Right?!
Should he call the police? No, Mark tried to even his breath and think with clarity. It was one bang; he should just grab a weapon and check every room. Maybe also the wardrobesā¦ THUD. Mark was listening this time.
It was coming from his kitchen.
But how did they get in?! Mark swore he locked the door. THUDā¦ Suddenly it felt like his breathing was far too loud. They would hear! He would be kidnapped and tortured and experimented on until he was nothing more than a broken shell ready to then kidnap someone else and he was going to then help them build an army of broken slaves and AH!
Quietly he pried his shoes off and gently placed them on the carpet so to be quieter. He had one chance. He canāt screw this up becauseā¦ they might have a gun. One wrong move andā¦ no this wasnāt helping.
Holding his breath he took his first step. His arms crossed over his chest. THUD. He saw an orange strike of light from the kitchen. He could hear the careful shuffling. The smell of pumpkin flooded the rooms.
Mark choked. It was from the pumpkin that he and his boyfriend Jack had carved. Jack was supposed to be out right now! Jack wouldnāt be in the kitchen now. Maybe he wouldāve been watching anime in the living room waiting for him. Maybe the intruder hadā¦ Mark felt sick. His stomach lurched. Panic slammed into him. He canāt do this. Butā¦
At the moment, he needed to save Jack.
Taking a deep breath, he took another step. His back was rigid and his steps firm and determined. Mark would happily give himself in if it meant Jack was going to be okay. Itās such a slim chance that Jackās evenā¦
Storming into the kitchen, Mark flicked the light on.
Mark froze.
Well, he was partially correct when he said there was no way that this was Jack in the kitchen. Jack was in his cat form instead of his human form as he was a werecat and had that power in his hands.
Jack hadnāt noticed him despite the light and was swishing his tail impatiently as he stalked cautiously forward with a plastic thick spatula in his mouth. He was slowly slinking to the pumpkin they had carved earlier (and the seeds strewn everywhere left over from the pumpkin innards fight) was sitting proudly in the middle of the table with a candle whispering inside. Mark didnāt know how to react. He was incredibly pissed that he came home to a heart attack for nothing however Jack is stupidly adorable in his kitty form. Mark thought evilly that he would mess with him as revenge.
āSEAN WILLIAM MCLOUGHIN!ā He bellowed causing Jack to flinch and accidently skid across the tiled floor. The spatula was dropped with a sudden thud.
He expected to be met with huge guilty blue eyes but instead Jack saw him and zipped between his legs. His furry ears poked his ankles from where he was peering out from behind his legs, his tiny form quivered.
His heart instantly melted and he lost the angry dad impression. Ā With slow deliberate movements, he kneeled down and gently scooped Jack up in his arms while cooeing silly nick names and praises. He went to move and sit down at the table so he can figure out what had freaked him out so much but Jack instantly dug his claws into his arms. Trying not to drop the now squirming werecat, Mark swiftly turned around to sit on the sofa. Before he sat though he stole the soft knitted blanket hanging from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around Jack knowing in his cat form because he loved dark warm areas.
But that also meant Jack was constantly getting stuck between the bed and the wall which Mark acted appropriatelyā¦ after taking at least fifty photos.
āHey Clover, whatās up?ā Mark decided to call him Clover as that was the nick name for him in his cat form. He got it from the neon green tipped ears and tail that curled so he was always touching him like the true affection craving kitty he was. Jack couldnāt talk in his cat form but he was still aware of his situation. Jack whimpered and curled tighter within his new found nest of blankets and his chest while his tail cautiously poked out and pointed back inside the kitchen.
Mark wasnāt sure if he was right, but he could bet that he was close enough.
Whenever Jack transformed into a werecat his memory as a human didnāt exactly disappear, he still knew who Mark was and refused to do normal cat stuff like poop in kitty litter or eat the cat food. But it was fuzzy. Mark had asked him to try and explain it before but Jack seemed just as confused and just sat there stuttering as he failed to think of a relatable similar situation.
But he guessed that Jack was a little freaked out to be in a completely dark house (he had thought Jack was outside as a cat and so wouldnāt care if the lights were on or off) with this weird creature that stank and glowed a startling orange light. The Dreaded Pumpkin Thingie.
Reaching for the remote, Mark snuggled the blanket covered contented cat as he flicked lazily through the channels knowing the familiar sounds would comfort him. He smirked when he felt Jack shiver and melt as he scratched behind his right ear, purrs echoed around the room along with the TVās random muttering.
Subconsciously, Mark added pumpkins to the list of things Jack is scared off but only as a cat. He tried not to laugh at the thought of everyone seeing werecats as terrifying beasts that snatched and murdered children in their sleep.
Yet here Jack was scared of caterpillars (he had to be rescued out of the garden), the hoover, thunder, raspberries, one advert on TV that Mark was yet to figure out, and pumpkins.
