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letsbenditlikebennett · 2 years

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Rest in Pieces || Ari & Sloane

TIMING: Before Silas was RIP PARTIES: @faetedwill & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ari is snooping around a mausoleum for some clues and Sloane finds her. CONTENT: Vomit

There were a number of things that Sloane could have been doing. But instead, she sat near a freshly dug grave, the backs of her jeans wet from the earlier rainfall. This was somebody she knew – a woman who worked at her high school. Somebody she’d been close to, or at least felt like she had been. There’d been mourning, and of course contemplation, but then her mother asked her to analyze, to dissect the way it made her feel, to understand why it was necessary. Fate had a funny way of showing its face, and though Sloane knew the ways in which its ember threads intertwined and grew parallel to every being that had ever existed, sometimes she felt it unfair.

But there was little time to stare at the lilies pressed against the granite. The sound of scraping, or what Sloane thought was scraping cut through the silence. Interested, but not without caution, she got to her feet. The flashlight she held in her hand had enough weight that if she needed to chuck it at someone’s head and run, she could very well do that and possibly escape. It was stupid, venturing through the cemetery after sundown and she knew it. The moon barely provided any light, the crescent a mere fold in the darkness. However, because she was there, half past 10 o’clock, she felt it was her duty, as silly as it was. As Sloane neared the source, footsteps careful, she noticed the flicker of light, as well as a hushed whisper. Her own flashlight in hand, Sloane jumped sideways, shining the light towards them, only dropping it immediately as recognition hit. “Ariana Bennett, what the fuck?”

Knee deep in research wasn’t somewhere Ari ever thought she would find herself. Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, it seemed as good a way as any to occupy her time. With how worried she was about Emilio, it only made sense to find what she could on Leviathan and spells that would help restore its body. It required searching the darker parts of Amity Road, but she had found a few books that she’d dove right into. Even if Emilio didn’t want Levi to get its body back, Ari would find a way just in case. She wasn’t sure she could trust the demon, but she wanted Emilio to be free, to not have to worry about people he loved constantly being threatened. It was late in the night in one of the spellcaster books that she found one had a grimoire on demons. The exact location wasn’t there, but it did mention a mausoleum at one of the local cemeteries.

It was why she found herself inside a somehow chilly mausoleum in the dark with only the light from her cell phone as she tried to make out the different symbols carved along the witch’s resting place. Ari had no idea who Marcie was in the big scheme of things, but she jotted down everything she could make out on the stone coffin. Normally, she’d be more alert, but months of little sleep and her own hushed whispers as she wrote things down drowned out her surroundings, a fact she was sure Emilio would get on her for considering she was in a cemetery in the middle of the night. When she heard her name, she threw the notebook out of her hands and jumped up ready to fight on instinct. There was a gasp when she did so only to immediately relax when she saw Sloane. “Oh,” she sighed tiredly, “It’s just you. Uh, hey.” She found her hands clasping behind her back as she was unsure of what she should be saying response to the well earned ‘what the fuck’ that had been thrown her way. “Uh,” she stammered, “I was just taking some notes. There’s uh–” She gestured at the symbols that lined the coffin.

Let it be known, Sloane’s astonishment isn’t because she thinks she’s better than Ariana for not being found inside of a mausoleum. Truthfully, Sloane expected to see a vampire, or some kind of ghoulish creature. Not somebody she spent the last two years of high school with. Whatever it was that Ari had been holding was now on the ground, spine lifted towards the cobwebbed ceiling. She glanced towards the gate, lock broken slightly and laid askew against the small hinge. “It’s just me.” Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here either, and maybe she got too caught up in the inevitable, but at least she hadn’t been caught in the same position as Ariana. Though, if their positions were switched, something told her that Ariana wouldn’t be as surprised as Sloane was.

Sloane’s gaze swept over Ariana, taking note of the way she stood against the stone. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly, you scared me.” Tempted by curiosity, Sloane stepped into the mausoleum and knelt down, picking up the notebook that had flopped onto the ground. Careful to keep her gaze on Ari’s, she held it between herself and Ari. When Ari gestured towards the stone, Sloane’s brow arched in response as she took in the way symbols had been scrawled into the mahogany. “Well, that’s strange.” Sloane tilted her flashlight towards the text. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this.” Not that she would have, as the only languages she was interested in were Fae languages as well as Gaelic, and even then, her knowledge was at the baseline. “What do you need it for?” Sloane asked as she leaned back, turning the flashlight this way and that as if in an attempt to gather more of the text forward.

At the sight of Sloane and the reassurance, Ari was only able to relax slightly. The mausoleum had a spooky vibe to it, which was weird considering she wasn’t usually creeped out by cemeteries. Maybe there was some sort of magic in here, that wouldn’t be too far off given a witch’s body called this place home. “Yeah, sorry, hey Sloane,” she greeted, still a bit off canter as she looked behind her friend. It was just Sloane. That was it. She let out a breath and willed herself to relax. This was far from the worse case scenario. The stony tomb still possessed a chill to the air, but it was only them.

As if on cue, the moment Ari immediately tensed again as she saw reaching for the notebook she’d been writing in. “Oh, wait I,” started before trailing off defeatedly as the notebook was picked up off the ground. Hopefully most of it was nonsense. Ari sure as hell couldn’t make out any of what she was copying down. She sighed and responded, “Neither have I.” She looked over Sloane’s shoulder into her notebook and back at the engraved symbols in front of them. She didn’t know enough about magic to know what language they even were, but she trusted she could find some sort of book on Amity. The next question made her hand raise to the back of her neck and she stroked it nervously. Because definitely wasn’t sus as hell. “Oh, uh, it should be something magic-related. Trying to find out information on a demon and this witch apparently knew a lot about them. Or spells about them. Don’t really know, the grimoire I was looking for wasn’t actually here.” She held out her hand to take her notebook back. “I’d say I promise it’s less sketch than it sounds, but the whole situation is pretty fucking shady. Uh, not that I’m the shady part of it. It’s a long, probably unbelievable story.”

Sloane was the type to be curious, but if somebody seemed as though they were distressed about their spilt milk, the last thing Sloane was going to do was help shed tears over it. She doesn’t wonder what was inside of the notebook, because soon enough, Ari spilled the reason as to why she was creeping around in the dark. “Magic-related? Demon?” Sloane was no mystery. While some might not know exactly what she was, or if she was anything at all, there were those who came across her that thought she might believe, even if just a little. Whether that belief was in the oddities of White Crest, or even the things she spoke about in class – her reputation preceded her as the girl digging bones in the corner of the field at recess while simultaneously sketching them out on the pages before her in art class. So in a way, it makes sense that Ari is so open with her.

“Color me interested.” Sloane doesn’t know that’s not the saying, nor does she care. She looked from the intricately designed coffin back to Ari. “You were here to steal something from the dead?” She let out a low whistle, “well I’m all for long, probably unbelievable stories.” Sloane thought that was obvious from her choice of major, but it hadn’t dawned on her that not everyone would realize that’s what she had chosen after high school. “You say you’re not the shady part, and I believe you.” Sloane folded her arms across her chest, flashlight shining awkwardly towards the cobwebs in the upper corner of the cramped place. “There is a list of records in my dad’s office from when the last exhumation was requested, and it’s a legal thing– having to give your name. Maybe that’s who took the grimoire you’re trying to steal.”

“I wasn’t here to steal the grimoire,” Ari huffed out with her arms folded over her chest, “That’s why I have the notebook, I was gonna jot down notes on anything relevant.” Which was hardly her idea of fun, but she had some standards. After all, it wasn’t the witch who had Emilio’s life currently turned upside down. Not that Sloane really seemed all that upset about her snooping around. The other girl did have a reputation for being a bit strange back at school, not that Ari ever bothered listening to those rumors. Plus, strange was better in her book anyway. Normal meant she had to hide parts of herself and even if Ari hadn’t explicitly told Sloane what she was, she didn’t feel the need to cover up her own oddities. Though she wasn’t sure how to dive into said long and unbelievable stories, especially as it wasn’t entirely hers to tell. She could just not mention Emilio, she couldn’t give less of a fuck if someone uncovered Levi and made its life a living hell.

“Long and unbelievable version it is,” Ari responded as she closed her notebook and put her pen in the spine, “Have you ever heard of the Leviathan?” Given Sloane seemed to be into that kinda stuff, she was almost certain her friend had at least heard of it. Somewhat defeatedly, she continued, “It is causing some trouble, even from the human body its been stuffed in. Not that I know who did that, just know it’s an asshole and would rather it fuck off back to its own dimension.” It was nice that Sloane believed her not being the shady one in this situation. She wasn’t sure how to explain her way out of. “Tha- I appreciate you believing me,” she responded genuinely with a look of relief on her face. Her eyes lit up at the mention of a list, that was helpful, hopefully. She wasn’t entirely sure that whoever did take the grimoire did so legally. “Oh, that’s a good idea. Hopefully whoever took it had permission. Would hate to have a ghost of a pissed off witch haunting me. Lead the way.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense. I guess the notebook wasn’t just a translation tool then.” Sloane could trust Ariana– could take her word for it, but the voice in the back of her head told her to not trust humans, even the ones that she’d known for years now. Not that this would have, or could have been a Fae grave, but Sloane half-wondered if the offense she held very briefly would have only grown in size. Instead, it was a spellcaster who had fallen to their knees and held open palms to Fate, and while Sloane cared very little for human magic, she knew that in some capacities, their magic was useful. It was clear that whatever this person had known was sorely needed, and by Sloane’s friend no less.

As Sloane listened to Ari, recognition flitted across her features, but only briefly. She’d heard the name, had seen it in writings, both in books her mom had, as well as ones provided to her by the school’s library. It was obvious that if all of these things existed, then something like the Leviathan would, too. She knew the bare minimum, bottom of the barrel– the kind of research that was done out of interest, but not for the consumption of information. It hadn’t held her attention as Fae history had. “So a Leviathan is controlling some… body, and is able to actually do real, physical harm to people?” Sloane blinked at Ari slowly, then nodded as if it made all the sense in the world – of course Ari was at this specific casket to get the information she needed to put a stop to whatever this was. Of course. “Well, shit. Your life sure didn’t slow down, did it?” With a sigh, Sloane turned on her heel and walked towards the small structure that housed her dad’s office. She’d been here a few weeks ago with Poe, though that’d been on a completely different mission. “It’s probable that they also tried to steal it– or sorry, they tried to steal it, you were just taking notes, but still disturbing a resting place.” She says it with a lilt of humor, no actual irritation to be found. “So when you get this information… what are you going to do with it?”

“Nope, for note-taking unfortunately,” Ari responded with a shrug. Even now that she was no longer in school, she still hated the note-taking process and reading… and pretty much anything that could look like studying at first glance. It seemed like Sloane was fairly familiar with this stuff though, which checked out. She’d heard the whispers, but she shrugged them off. Calling someone the weird girl was just fucking rude and she’d never been one to give into peer pressure. Still, even as a werewolf Ari had been shocked by the existence of some biblical demon. Not that she believed that they had the details all right, but it was something. Sloane’s look of recognition was even better. “So you don’t think I’m totally crazy,” she responded, “That’s cool.”

“Wait,” Ari started, unable to contain her curiosity, “Why don’t you think I’m crazy? Do you believe in like werewolves and stuff, too?” She kind of hoped the answer was yes and not an ‘I hate werewolves’ yes, but she couldn’t be too sure. She’d always liked Sloane well and they got along. Unlike most of their other classmates, Ari had always been able to speak a bit more freely with her. She nodded along confirming Sloane’s questions as they walked through the quiet cemetery. “That’s about the gist of it. It’s also a real asshole… with nicer hair than someone who is that big of a dick should be allowed,” she added bitterly. Sloane was right about one thing, her life definitely hadn’t slowed down yet somehow still felt unbearably long in the absence of the ones she loved the most. “Yeah, really only sped up, I guess,” she answered with as much of a laugh as she could muster, “What about you?” A frown crossed her face at the mention of disturbing the resting place. She hadn’t really thought of it like that, not that anyone she loved got any sort of resting place. They got ashes spread around trees or buried in an unmarked grave. “I didn’t realize that it was disturbing,” she replied with a grimace, “I– I guess none of my loved ones got a proper– I didn’t know there was etiquette.”

The next question was a little bit heavy. The truth was, Ari didn’t know what she was looking for or what she would actually do when she found it. If she found something that helped the Leviathan get its body back, Emilio would be free, but possibly also hate her for it. It felt like such a helpless situation. She chewed on her bottom lip as they walked before she finally said, “I’m not really sure yet. If I find anything, I like to think the right thing to do will be obvious, but— Nothing’s ever really that simple. So, stick to the whole fuck around and find out thing I guess.”

“I don’t mean to come across as…” Sloane thought of the word, then decided that it didn’t match up with what she was trying to get across, “I mean– you know where we live, right?” Even if she weren’t fae– hadn’t learned from her mother firsthand of what this world offered, she was almost positive she wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye to what White Crest was. There were so many humans who turned their nose at the very idea that it wasn’t just them, and that was more grating than anything else. Humans were… selfish, as it were, and there’d be no changing that. But it was clear that Ari was not like them– those humans. “I’m sure something else will make me think you’re a bit…” Sloane shrugged, “crazy, as you put it, but not this.”

“Werewolves.” She wondered, very briefly, why Ari would ask such a thing? Was she on the hunt for them? Sloane tensed slightly, only because if that were the case, then wasn’t it possible that Wardens had somehow come into the mix, too? She didn’t clarify that she remembered a story her mother had told her about a fling she had with a wolf when she visited Ireland before she’d met Sloane’s father. Instead, Sloane nodded. “‘Course. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, whatever else exists– whether I know it’s here or not, I’m sure it exists, or existed at some point.” There had been a point, though, where she wondered if what she read in the mythology texts for school were just stories, and what actually crept and lurked in these corners. “Now you know. Not really any use worrying about it now.” Sloane cast a glance over her shoulder, and though she should maybe feel bad for the comment, she couldn’t bring herself to. But she decided to try and amend anyway. “If you give them the thought of a resting place, then isn’t that in part something for them to call as such?” That’s what her mom had said, when it came to those who met Death and Fate at the crossroads, how sometimes it wasn’t fair, but in some capacity, they would fulfill what had been in store for them, and in thought, those who remembered them would only help fuel the purpose by mentally putting them to rest. Or maybe Sloane had gotten it wrong. It didn’t matter. She could tell it had bugged Ari.

“That sounds a little depressing.” Sloane watched Ari carefully, curiosity piqued by the mere mention of werewolves. “Hey, when you asked about werewolves, what were you asking for? Do you know one?” If she was on the hunt for the leviathan, what was the chance that she wasn’t on the hunt for other things too? There was a brief thunk! Sloane’s brows pulled together. “Hey, did you hear that?”

“Alright, fair enough,” Ari relented, for all the humans that turned a blind eye to the happenings in White Crest, every so often there was one with eyes wide open, “When things like raining fish happen, hard to ignore.” Especially considering the smell was unbearable. She did subconsciously take in Sloane’s scent and didn’t notice anything nonhuman and she could hear her heart beating. That didn’t eliminate everything, but it wasn’t her business even if she had questions bursting at the seams. She laughed and agreed, “You’re probably not wrong. Guess I’ll have to keep you on your toes with that one.”

The question answered hadn’t been exactly what Ari meant. It was one thing to believe in werewolves and vampires and all that other stuff, but another entirely to be accepting of them enough to be cool with hanging out with one. Maybe after being found taking notes in a resting place wasn’t the best time to throw out the ‘oh by the, I’m a werewolf!’ thing. She chewed her lip as they walked side by side unsure of what she should say to close up the can of worms she happened to open. “Yeah, too many stories for them to just not be real, right,” she asked as if she was more a spectator than an actual wolf, “Kinda cool to think we could just be talking to one in everyday life.” Maybe that would give her more of an answer on where Sloane stood without flat out asking. It was actually pretty clever and she had to give herself credit for that one.

“Yeah, now I know,” Ari agreed somewhat vacantly. The feeling that she hadn’t been able to give anyone she loved that much sat heavy on her shoulders. It left her stomach feeling unsettled and she found herself simply nodding along idly as Slone explained. “Yeah, I guess it kinda is.”

The solemn feeling was quickly replaced by nerves when Sloane mentioned the werewolf thing again and Ari looked to her more flustered than she would have liked to. “Oh, well, it’s just that I’m a we–” The sound of something shuffling along the ground cut her off and she whispered, “Yeah I heard it.” She had stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air. There was the subtle smell of death that could indicate a good number of things. She really wasn’t in the mood to deal with a a fucking spawn, but as her head followed the sound, a low growl rumbled in her throat. It was no spawn, it looked more like some sort of unwrapped mummy.

“Stay back,” Ari directed as she let her bag fall to the ground and placed herself firmly in the path of, whatever that was. It was coming at her faster than it had any business being able to. As a reflex, she pulled one of the knives out of her jacket and charged toward it before it could get too close and risk hurting Sloane. The knife was gripped firmly in her hand as she ran up on it and plunged it into the things neck. It shuddered briefly before the wound all but disappeared and it gave her a slap that sent her flying backwards. She yelped in pain and felt the shift of her bones under her skin. Any thought of trying to stop it fled as its head shifted to look at Sloane. Before she could think better of it, she shifted into her wolf form and tackled the walking corpse to the ground before it could get anywhere near Sloane.

“Oh yeah, how could I ever forget about the raining fish.” Sloane remembered the week after, her mom had booked them a trip to Dublin to visit family. It’d been a nice trip, but she had missed all of the commotion and had ended up reading about it on social media instead of experiencing it firsthand. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. About like, weird or freaky things in the future.” She wondered what Ari would think about her being fae, but thought better of it than to ask her outright, even if the question was do you believe in pixies? Surely Ari had to, right?

Sloane kicked the toe of her shoe against the ground which in turn sent a rock flying towards a neighboring gate that separated the grounds office from the actual graveyard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It is kind of cool, thinking about how your neighbor could be like, howling at the moon the next night after they decided to… I don’t know, bring you a pie.” She knew that wasn’t necessarily an accurate description of werewolves, but the thought of such a thing occurring was humorous enough for Sloane to bring it up. “But no, yeah— I think pretty much anything is possible. I mean, I’m not majoring in mythology because I want to prove people wrong, you know?” It’s actually to make people who think Tinkerbell is an accurate description of a pixie to feel extremely dumb.

I’m a we— Sloane hung onto the word that Ari was about to say. Given their earlier topic, she had a fair idea of what it could’ve been. But instead, they were interrupted. The figure— the creature— the thing that stood ahead of them was terrifying, to say the least. Sloane had never seen anything like it, not in real life, and not in the books she’d read a dozen times over. Though, she guessed a version of it could’ve been seen in history books, but this … this was different, this was wrong. Sloane inhaled sharply and splayed her hand through the hair, making a grab for Ari’s arm, but instead was met with Ari telling her to back up.

“What— Ari—“ Sloane stared wide-eyed as Ari took out a knife. She shined the flashlight ahead, catching her friend as she surged forward, blade glinting dangerously beneath the torchlight. “Ariana!” Sloane yelled, wincing at the sound of her own voice being so loud. She’d been told to stay quiet, to train herself not to get too loud so that she would be prepared later on, but she was no banshee yet, she would not shatter glass or pop eardrums. Before Sloane could call on her friend to retreat again, the knife was digging into the neck of the creature. It made no sound, and instead, Ari was sent backwards onto the ground.

“Ari!” Sloane screamed again, torn between backing up and running to her friend. However, before she could make a decision, Ari shifted before her. Sloane stared as Ariana disappeared, clothing tearing to shreds beneath the way her form expanded, tufts of fur appearing in addition to sharp, elongated claws sprouting from where her hands had just been wrapped around the knife. It was left forgotten on the ground as the wolf— no, Ariana, sprang forth. Sloane was frozen, unsure of what to do. Ariana had barely— Ariana was a werewolf. Holy— “Ohhhh— Oh, fuck!” Sloane gasped as she backed away.

Normally, Ari wouldn’t have chosen to shift in front of someone who had no idea what she was, but given she’d been about to admit it anyway, it seemed better to just go with what would actually work. It sure as hell beat risking not changing on her own terms, at least this way, she was the one driving the action. The sound of her name faded away as she focused on her not so delicious prey. The wolf honed in on the walking corpse, knowing that in absence of fire, decapitation was the next best thing. Working for a slayer did come with some perks and even if they were educational. Well, and many times physical because they both liked fighting shit.

Now, her snout centered in on the smell of death and tackled it to the ground before it could get too close to Sloane. The thing was a lug and was harder than she anticipated to push over. It gripped her fur tightly enough for her to let out a pained howl, but she shoved her jaws into the thing’s neck and ignored the rotten taste that filled her mouth. She’d made a good bite into its neck and if she could just keep going, she’d have its head off. Much to her dismay it pushed her off and sent her crashing into the back of a headstone.

The wolf snarled as she leapt back onto her feet and felt the rip of pain going through her back legs. There was no time for that, she needed to get this thing before her original bite had too much time to heal. At full speed, she ran toward it again, this time a bit more erratically to confuse the corpse in question. Her force brought them both down to the ground again and began taking chunks out of its neck as quickly as she could. Its hands wrapped tightly around her neck, pull out tufts of fur as it tried to rip her away, but for every pull, her teeth sunk in deeper, refusing to let go.

Even with the putrid taste, the wolf refused to relent. Tufts of fur flow through the air, but she was almost there. It regenerated fast, but she wouldn’t stop, even as it pulled on her tail which hurt like hell only caused her to whine as she took her final bites. She was pretty sure it dislocated something, but that didn’t matter if they both ended up dead. Another bite and the head was finally detached from the neck. Ari remained over it a moment longer to ensure it didn’t start moving again so she limped away from it and gagged up some of the remaining bites still in her mouth. If she could go the rest of her life without ever having to eat something undead again, she’d be grateful.

Ari kept away from Sloane a few moments longer as she let the adrenaline fade away. Bone creaked and shifted back into her more human-like form. Red splotches where fur was ripped out painted her skin and she could see some bruises already forming. Her back was sore from her tail being pulled on and being thrown against marble. She brought her palm to her mouth to wipe away some of the dead flesh that clung to her chin before looking sheepishly back at Sloane. She shrugged with an awkward smile, “That may have been why I asked about… werewolves, but uh, I’m gonna come back that way to grab my bag. I have extra clothes in there.”

In the moments that followed Ariana’s shift, Sloane was left behind to simply stand there, infuriatingly human-like. She had managed to stagger back against a headstone at the opposite end. She should run, and she knew she should run, but there was a fascination that burrowed, rooting her to the spot. The flashlight in her hand felt useless, but maybe if the creature got too close, she could blind them in a moment of desperation and escape. But she didn’t even know what was in front of her, nor did she know how to get rid of it. It was undead, that much she could tell, but anything beyond that– she was fucking clueless. It was not a good feeling. Nor was it a good feeling watching Ari go up against it, even if it seemed as though she were able to handle herself.

Teeth, flesh, and claws– Aside from those things, it was all a blur, and it had Sloane’s heart in her throat. If Ari were to actually get injured, what would she be able to do for her other than drag her to safety? What if this thing somehow bested the wolf? In their scuffle, the dagger that Ariana had been holding got kicked towards her. Sloane grabbed it off of the ground and held it, hilt digging into her abdomen as she pointed the blade forward. Maybe if whatever the fuck that was decided to come her way, she could plunge it upwards.

A headstone broke beneath Ariana’s weight and Sloane flinched, raising her arms to shield her face as pieces of it scattered. She was far enough away from them now– Ariana was seemingly pushing the mummified corpse in the opposite direction. The howls and half-screams that filled the air were enough to send chills down her spine. This had been the first time she’d ever seen a wolf in action, and she silently hoped it would be the last, especially if it was her friend.

The feeling of helplessness washed over Sloane once more as she watched the wolf’s jaws close around the creature’s neck. Blood and bits of flesh sprayed outwards and Sloane covered her mouth out of reflex. The stench of death hung in the air, and it had never been anything that bothered her before, but seeing the way that Ariana tore into the mummy, it made her stomach churn.

As soon as the fight had begun, it was over. Sloane watched as the head of the creature rolled towards a headstone, cloth unraveling in a way that, if she weren’t so terrified, she would find quite comical. Sloane watched Ari, half-anticipating being beneath the wolf’s jaws next, but instead, Ariana’s form shrank down to reveal the very human-like appearance that Sloane had known for the past few years. The hilt of Ari’s dagger had begun to imprint into the palm of Sloane’s hand from how tightly she had held it during the fight. At first, Sloane hadn’t registered Ari’s words, but after a moment, she cleared her throat.

“That was some way to fucking ask me.” Sloane looked down at Ariana’s dagger and twisted it around, hilt side pointed towards her friend. “It’s okay, you uh–” There was still fear written across Sloane’s face and she scrubbed a hand against her forehead. “You don’t need to apologize. You just saved my life.” Ariana’s naked body didn’t bother Slaone. It was just a body, but she was sure it was uncomfortable being naked in a cemetery, so Sloane simply nodded. “I uh– Maybe I need to sit down.” It was silly, saying such a thing, especially when she hadn’t done a damn thing but stood there and gawk at the wolf that tore the undead’s throat out.

That was one hell of a way for her friend to find out she was a werewolf and Ari knew as much. In her defense, that thing didn’t look like the breed of undead that a stake to the heart would take out. She guessed she could have tried, but her initial stab told her that thing was fucking strong. The ache in her back only reiterated that point. That was gonna be a nasty bruise, but she’d live. Her smile essentially had “oops” written across it as she answered, “My bad?”

When the pace of Sloane’s heart registered and Ari finally read the look on her face, the werewolf chewed on her lip. From a point of view that wasn’t hers, that had to look pretty fucking scary. It was easy to forget that most people weren’t used to fighting the way she was. Being a wolf was enough reason to have a fight in her, but being raised by a hunter and working for a hunter only multiplied that fight. Her own deep need to help keep others safe after all her losses didn’t hurt. “Yeah,” she breathed, “Go ahead I’m just gonna… clean up a bit.”

Ari grabbed the torn jacket on the ground and used it to wipe some of the flesh and blood off of her before she went fishing in her backpack for baby wipes to completely remove it, or as much as she could save taking a proper shower. She was quick to throw on the bike shorts and spare t-shirt she had in her bag. The only shoes she had now were some water-trekking sandals which was good enough. She didn’t even mind being barefoot that much, but with her luck, she’d step on something sketchy.

Once dressed, she looked back over at where the walking corpse had come from and saw another body. “Huh,” Ari questioned out loud as she walked closer to it, “It looks like there’s another body over here.” Her eyes flickered shut and she made sure there wasn’t a heartbeat before crouching down beside it. Next to it, there was a bloody and torn book that had a cover with inscriptions similar to those on the coffin she had originally been copying. “Well, that fucking checks out,” she grumbled, “I think we have our answer on whether it was ex…. Whatever the word you said was or stolen.”

“Yeah– Yeah, go ahead.” Sloane glanced towards the undead’s body. Even though maybe it should have, that didn’t bother her as much as watching Ari rip its head off. She smoothed a shaky hand through her hair as she leaned against a tombstone. Sloane tightened her hands into fists and looked down at her feet, using the grounding technique that her mother had taught her for when she became overwhelmed or scared.

The sound of Ari’s footsteps, a zipper– she focused on it all, even if it was hard to due to the pounding in her ears. It wasn’t until she heard Ari’s voice cut through the semi-silence that she looked up. “There’s another what?” Sloane asked, tone incredulous. After a moment, she finally managed to get up from her spot on the ground. She approached the body carefully, immediately taking note of the distinct smell of death. It was much different from what Ari had just killed.

“Oh, shit.” Sloane leaned down next to it, careful not to touch it. “What do we do?” She looked towards Ari. She sure as hell didn’t want to call the police. How the fuck would they explain the undead creature, and the fact that its head had been forcibly removed? She could call her mom, but what good would that do? “So this is… the person that took what you needed.” She looked at the book, barely recognizable, save for the inscriptions written across the cover. Bits of the pages were scattered around where they knelt, and Sloane frowned. “This is one hell of a way to go out.” She inhaled sharply, the smell of death flattening against her tongue. She’d been used to it– the smell, the way it tasted in the air. Even if she couldn’t yet sense it or feel it prickling against her skin, she had to come to an understanding of it, even if it was scary.

“Doesn’t look like the– uh, the book.” Sloane pointed at it, “in any condition to get information from.” The banshee frowned as she looked over the body once more. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and the fear that she had succumbed to after seeing Ari shift and tear the undead’s head off fell by the wayside now that they had a dead body on their hands. “Do you– Um, what… do we do about that.”

When it came to the body of the undead, Ari hadn’t really given much of a thought of what to do about it. All she had known was that it was hurtling towards her and Sloane and there was no way in hell she was going to let Sloane get hurt. The body of another person who was decidedly not a walking corpse before it was killed also hadn’t been anticipated. There hadn’t been much thought behind Ari’s actions as much as there was instinct and impulse, which left them in a bit of a bind currently. “Shit,” she whispered under her breath.

“Uh, considering,” Ari sort of gestured around, “Does this kinda thing not happen a lot or is that just Gallows that has spawn running all over the damn place?” The good thing about spawn was they just turned to dust after you put a stake through their heart, no body to deal with after the fact. She’d never dealt with a body that wasn’t– No, she had to shove that thought down. It wasn’t the time although maybe it was an appropriate place to mourn the dead. “I don’t really know, I wasn’t expecting there to be a body of– well, not something that wasn’t already a corpse. I have way too many weapons on me to not immediately be suspicious to the cops and a werewolf in jail with the full moon coming up doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

Ari frowned down at the book. It had been a long shot, sure, but the grimoire of a witch who specialized in working with demons might have something useful. Not that it’s what Emilio would have wanted, but with how little care he put into his own wellbeing, she didn’t really care all that much about what he wanted if it kept him alive and free from Levi. “It’s fine,” she said, despite the fact her shoulders slumped with disappointment, “Don’t even know if there’d be anything useful in there. I can keep poking around Amity Road. I– appreciate the help anyway. But uh, I should help with whatever we’re doing here.”

“I don’t know, I don’t exactly go looking for this kind of thing.” For the most part, there’d barely been any reports of undead at this specific cemetery. Sloane wrinkled her nose in distaste as she got to her feet, carefully taking a step back as to not disturb the corpse that laid at their feet. She had seen a dead body before, but that’d been at the hospital, and it wasn’t like this, out in the open, cause of death unknown.

Sloane let out a pained laugh at Ariana’s words. She was right, and even though the last thing Sloane wanted to do was call the police, it was definitive that that was not what they would be doing tonight. The last thing that she needed was for the police officer to turn out to be a warden and for her mom to come and bail her out of jail. Then they’d all be screwed. Or worse, if whoever pulled up was the kind of hunter that went after wolves. Sloane flexed her fingers, hopeful that any sort of movement would spark an idea. She began to pace back and forth in small, tight circles, far enough away from the body.

“Yeah– Yeah, we should focus on this first.” Sloane bit into the inside of her cheek. “We could leave it? I can– I can get rid of the CCTV footage, I have keys to my dad’s office. Um… maybe they’ll just find it, call it in– on a thing later, we don’t… have to be involved.” Fate had already crossed through, a red thread strung to this person. It was clear that whatever the fuck had attacked herself and Ari had been what got to this person, and though Sloane knew that respecting the dead and death itself was first and foremost a purpose pulled from what she was, there was no chance in hell she was going to mill around and get caught here.

“Fair enough,” Ari responded as she kept an eye on the body for any sign of movement. It didn’t seem like this was the kind of monster that made new ones, but she wasn’t going to take her chances when someone else’s life could be on the line. She nodded along and wasn’t sure if she wished she didn’t seek this kind of thing out. The feel of chilly night air flowing through headstones was far from unfamiliar. Usually it held a more dusty smell by the time she was leaving, but it was something she knew all too well. She swallowed back that realization about herself and turned to Sloane, “Yeah, good idea. We should probably get away before one of ‘em wakes up for round 2. That thing tasted like shit, so I’d rather skip whatever the hell the next course is.”

It was lucky that Sloane worked here so they could get rid of the CCTV footage. Ari made a mental note to be a bit more careful with this shit. “Yeah, right, that’s a good idea.” She slung her bag back over her shoulder and refrained from wincing as it hit her already bruising back. “Next time we catch, it’s gonna be over something normal like milkshakes and not… whatever the fuck that was. Deal?”

“Ha– Round 2?” Sloane smoothed a stray curl behind her ear, flattening it down with the palm of her hand. She knew that Ariana was right, and while she had questions about why she knew all of this, the answer truly could be summed up in what Ari was. A wolf. She wasn’t sure how she’d gone these past few years without knowing that about her friend. It wasn’t as if it was easy to hide as Sloane being a banshee. Though, she guessed that came with the territory of not yet being activated and not having to watch her tone. “But yeah, you’re… you’re right.”

Sloane

chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked at the corpse. She swallowed thickly and looked over at Ariana. “A milkshake does sound really good right now.” Sloane let out another laugh, this time less distressed as she motioned for Ari to follow her towards the shack that was about 50 feet from where they now stood. “But yeah, I think that’s a fair enough ask, especially because I don’t plan to get caught up in whatever the

fuck

that was again.” She made a mental note to do research on what she had seen tonight. The inscriptions and the discussion of the demon was interesting in itself, but the undead creature that’d been hanging around hung at the back of her mind, too. “We can get you some ice for your shoulder, too. It looked like you went down pretty hard.” She didn’t know shit about werewolves and their healing abilities, but if it’d been like anything in the mythology texts she read about, then hopefully Ari would be right as rain in no time.

#vomit tw #wickedswriting #sloane #p; sloane #p; rest in pieces

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feral4daryl · 5 months

Text

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

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