neunkugeln | fable inbox 🍌🌼

Don't—

[She's about to remind him not to throw up all over her, and to just close his eyes until they get back to her cottage, but the words die right in her throat when she feels his hands...

...

Grabbing...

Her...

Ilsa freezes, and while this isn't the first time that he's... touched her there... this has a very different mood than that time.

She gives him about two seconds to remove them before she finally finds her voice again, but it's cracked with urgency and embarrassment as she feels her entire face heat up with colour.]

WELL? Are you going to move your hands or do I have to chew them off!?!?!

Move...huh...oh.

[He had been hanging on for dear life, and his grip actually tightens for a second when he realizes it...

...

And then sanity will at least shine through as he immediately releases his hands, his arms sticking out and then up awkwardly. With the rough and fast space, that's also making him sway his upper body around in a dangerous way. Hope Ilsa can hang onto him. Or just drop him, honestly he wouldn't blame her later—]

[If only there were an apt way to describe the sound that Ilsa makes when he squeezes her. Alas, the only way to describe it is a mix between a squeak and a scream and maybe even an angry curse laced into it somewhere.

It's a good thing that he does move his hands then, because she really had considered tossing him head-first to the ground and leaving him there, but Valo's whines beside them force her to remember that this man is not in his right mind. Still, there was no need to......

She clears her throat. Several times... and just continues to walk on.]

You can wrap your arms around my shoulders.

[Ilsa does remind him of that, because he's definitely swaying and making her knees buckle under her. If he doesn't hold on, then it won't be just Eustace tumbling to the ground.

But before he does anything—]

Just my shoulders.

[He just makes a small sound as his hands nervously grip her shoulders.

And at first things go okay... But his eyes start to drift and she'll his forehead hit the top back of her head, his fingers tightening just a little as if to keep himself from falling either forward or backward.]

...Sorry...

[Another mumbled apology, dejection and sadness clear in his voice.]

[Her eyes widen a touch when she feels his forehead bump against hers... and she pauses for a moment before readjusting her hold on his legs.]

Enough with the apologies.

[It's kind of pitiful!!!]

Just keep your eyes closed and your hands where they are, and you will be okay.

[That much she can at least promise him. She knows that she's been a little hard on Eustace today, but would he blame her for it after? She very much doubts it when he looks back on this and remembers it all with a clear head. And she does hope that he will.]

But...

[He starts before he closes his mouth and is quiet for a bit before he mutters something else.]

...I like you...

[Another stop, her feet freezing on the spot, and another confused whine from Valo while Ilsa's own eyes go wide.]

You...?

[For a moment, she's sure she feels her heart thump in her chest, and a violent flutter surge through her stomach that sends a flush right into her cheeks.

Did she hear him right, or is he just slurring his words? No, surely he must mean something else...? That he likes her as a colleague. That he likes that she's doing this for him. Surely he wouldn't mean it that way, and that the first time a man ever said that to her wasn't when he was literally drunk off his ass.

Yeah, no. It's definitely the alcohol talking.

... Again.

With a more firm hold, Ilsa adjusts him again and keeps walking.]

Tch. We are going to keep you off the alcohol for a while.

[He just continues to mumble, his voice fading and sounding more sleepy than anything else... And sure enough, he'll have dozed off.

...

But he's still sleeptalking right near her ear.]

...Like... Small... Soft... Large... Round....

[Did he just... fall asleep? For real...?

Ilsa just keeps on, her ear twitching every time his breath tickles it, until...

....

......

There's a very sudden and very large lump that grows in her throat when he starts to mumble, and there are shivers that trickle all the way down her spine when the rumble of his low voice reaches her ears again. She tries to keep them pricked forward, to turn them away from the sound of it, but...

Soft... Large... Round...

What is he...? She has never been one to be so self-conscious, but her eyes slowly move down to her chest, and whe can feel her face growing redder and hotter... so hot that she suddenly blurts out—]

Oi, wake up!

[Zzzzz zzzzzz—]

Hungh wha—

[Eustace jolts awake and is completely confused.]

[She's going to shake him a little bit with her arms.]

Already dreaming about something?

Dream... Ah.

[And now he's going to go deathly silent as he buries his face into her hair, the heat radiating off his face as his ears burn. To have that kind of dream....!!]

Soft, large, and round, hm?

[No, she's not going to let him off that easy.

It's a good thing that he can't see how red in the face she is, either.]

[Just a very, very quiet voice.]

Squishy...

[Ilsa hums, almost pensively, like she's giving his words some very, very serious thought.]

Squishy, too? What is?

[SHE'S GOING TO MAKE HIM SAY IT.]

...

......

...........

Dog... Pillows...

Dog pillows?

[...

....

Wait. Did she... get the wrong idea? She thought he was talking about—dear lord, what has this place done to her!? She's just going to start walking faster now... The sooner they get back to her place, the sooner she can set him down and put an end to this whole thing.

Meanwhile, her grip on Eustace will begin to slip.....]

[Unknown to Ilsa, she was actually quite correct, he's just actually had the barest enough of sense to not say what else was going on. Perhaps being drunk had a positive effect for this...or maybe he's sobering up a little. Such a dream to have while on Ilsa's back...

...

Or maybe it's because he's on Ilsa's back.

Before he was too drunk to really be affected by it but now that he's been forced awake and sobering a little, he's much more aware of things. More aware of her body is moving beneath him, aware of her scent so close to his nose still buried in her hair, the heat at his fingertips, the small size of her shoulders that his much larger hands seem to envelop.

And her picking up the pace does not do him any favors.

So that grip slipping is a miracle as roughly the same time he's trying to let go and lean back while once more reciting every rule and procedure of the Society organization (which honestly comes out as a jumbled, drunken mess in his mind) and he inadvertently pushes back with enough force that he'll just fall right back.]

—!!!

[Well.

That's one way to kill his thoughts.]

[The scream Ilsa lets out when she feels Eustace slip out of her arms is... something. Not a sound that she's ever made, and likely not one she'll ever make again. Fortunately for him, her reflexes are fast enough, and Valo moves underneath to break his fall just in case she doesn't catch Eustace in time. His head will hit the dog's back before Ilsa is hoisting him up and forward again with all of the strength she still has in her legs.

And then her knees immediately buckle underneath her, and she starts to topple forward.]

Stop leaning like that! Just stay straight!!!

Just let go!!

[LET HIM FALL AND CRACK HIS HEAD OPEN IT'S FINE HE PROBABLY NEEDS IT AFTER ALL THIS—

Valo is desperately trying to offer some support, but it's a struggle.]

I'm not going to let you fall! Lean forward and hold on!

[HELLO?? SHE ISN'T GOING TO LET HIM CRACK HIS HEAD, IT'S ALREADY DAMAGED ENOUGH—

Which is why Ilsa is going to start moving even faster, picking up into a jog, leaning forward and looking like she's about to fall face-first right into the stone.

Meanwhile, Valo is trotting to keep up behind them, the poor dog so confused...]

[He's forced back forward, and there's a definite audible swear because while the atmosphere is enough to quell any previous desires, THIS ISN'T HELPING IN A DIFFERENT SENSE.]

Wait—Ilsa—!!!

[Heurp—]

[NOT AGAIN...

At this point, there's no winning for either of them. Let him down and he can barely walk. Pick him up and he can barely hold on... and now this.

Whoever enchanted him, whoever started that stupid drinking game and let him drink this much... She's going to kill them all.

And she's just going to keep running until she finds a safe spot to stop on the side of the road in case he needs to expel (rainbows) again. If not, then she's going to keep going. No more stopping until they're back at her house and he is safe on her couch—!]

[He's honestly going to try his best, one arm hanging around her chest (specifically, the space between her neck and above her cleavage so that he's 1) not choking her and 2) not hitting her breasts) while the other hand is at his mouth as he tries to keep whatever's left in him down.

She'll get as far as her front gate before he really, REALLY needs to be let down.]

Ah fuck, seriously, Ilsa!!

[She's going to practically throw him off her shoulders now—though not so hard that he'll make a terrible landing, but hard enough that it jolts the both of them—and she stumbles forward, wobbling with her hands forward to break her fall in case she completely trips over her feet. She doesn't, and instead, she whirls around to look at Eustace.

... Not on her front lawn, ugh...!]

If you tell me who did this to you, I will make sure that they pay the proper price for it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject