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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Steamy Waters — Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 7.7k

Genre: smut, pwp; initial fluff, but don’t let that fool you; established relationship; idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Hello my fluffy ducklings, welcome to Jeongguk’s Steamy Waters 😈

I won’t even pretend there’s a plot in this. It’s just Jk, coming home from the gym and finding excuses to shower with his gf. Set almost a month after Love Talk, Jeongguk is finally ready to take a big step in his relationship with Candy, however finding the courage for the big leap is excruciating. Candy is more than willing to reward him before asking for something in return, she simply doesn’t know how much her game will cost her.

I decided I’ll keep using the nickname the nickname “Guk”, (see more in this post). Now, straight on to...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t do that unless YOU’RE TESTED AND CLEAN), mentions of therapy and mental health; sweaty jock!Jungkook, smitten!Jungkook who can’t express his emotions but IS WORKING ON IT, with a very supportive gf; I guess there’s a striptease, if you like... squint?; masturbation (female and male receiving); breast worship; period talk; very intimate love confession; foreplay under the shower (specifically mutual oral sex — aka 69 — while laying on the floor); predator/prey dynamics (namely she runs and he chases her, finds her as she tries to hide, drags her out and throws her over his shoulder); plenty of lube (lube is important and useful, let’s normalise using it); lots of degradation and objectification, name calling (fuckdoll, slut, cocksleeve, cockfairy), very multiple orgasms — like a lot; edging (both male and female receiving), begging, crying, slight humiliation. These two know all the possible variations to missionary sex (sorry not sorry); biting; slightest, most delicate face slapping and grabbing; spanking; tattoo fetish; cumplay, mentions of cum eating.

[Inspired by this look]

Here is my masterlist and check out my non-idols!AU (Partition update coming on Sat, Jan 23rd!!!)

Remember to vote for next prompt (link in bio)!

And now, enjoy ✨💜

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The entry door smashed loudly sometime around ten p.m., followed by the thud of a bag falling to the floor, Jeongguk’s heavy steps stopping as he took of his shoes.

The moment he appeared he looked unreal, with an oversized black shirt reaching his mid thigh, the sleeves exposing his forearms and part of his tattoos, his hair falling messily in wet curls over his forehead.

“Candy, babe?” He called from the entry. “I’m home!”

“Guk?” You called from the kitchen, your head peeking around the corner. He spotted you and smiled.

“What you doing there?” He said with a smile, sauntering towards you, standing at your side and placing a hand around your waist as you stood by the stove.

You turned and stood on your tiptoes, puckering your lips and closing your eyes.

He bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I’m messy.” He said, close to your mouth.

“Are you fresh out of the gym?” You asked.

He nodded. “I haven’t even showered yet. I wanted to come home as soon as possible.” His fingers rubbed your side gently, trying not to tickle you. “I missed you a lot today.”

You smiled as you finished warming up his favourite post-workout snack. “I’ve already eaten. I thought you might be hungry.” You said, just as he stole the ladle and took a sip.

“Yum!” He commented, placing the utensil back in your hand. He stood behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I wanna hug you but I’m too sweaty.” He commented as he kneeled the tense muscles of your neck.

You shook your head. “Oh, these need to be washed,” you said, referring to your outfit. “We went to a bulgogi place today and I feel like I smell so bad.”

“You haven’t showered yet?” He asked, his hands slowing down, almost stopping.

“No… I switched on the tv and there was this interesting old interview with Miyazaki and I got caught up.” You explained with a cheery tone.

“The Japanese director and artist?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, switching off the stove and pouring a couple ladles of noodles and broth in a bowl, adding some basic decorations on top.

He paused before wrapping an arm around your waist. “Can I hug you then?” He asked gently, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Still, there was no way you wouldn’t hear his voice. Sometimes you thought you could hear his very thoughts.

“Of course you can hug me, Guk.”

His body adhered to yours without hesitation, a low moan exiting his throat as he felt you sink even deeper into him, pressing into his body, almost trying to hide into him.

“I said I missed you.” He said shyly, waiting for you to praise him as he opened up about his emotions.

You were working through it, together, trying to make him open up more, offer you more of himself, of his feelings and fears.

“I missed you too, baby. I love you.” You spoke against his chest, taking in the clean and humid scent of his skin. He always smelled so good even after working out. Especially after working out.

Your hormones did a somersault.

“Today I felt very… restless.”

That was a very specific word for his emotional vocabulary. Lately, he was getting better and better, finding new words that fit his moods appropriately. His way of speaking was always plain, in the best meaning of the term. He is simple and transparent, always using basic words with great meaning. That seemed to be his style, pure and direct, honest.

However, he was growing a lot, even emotionally. He was slowly losing the adjective “young” that people normally put before the word “man” when trying to describe him.

He is a man. And an excellent one at that. Sure, a bit naive sometimes, and still shy, but he always showed a caring, attentive side whenever you tried to speak your needs and grievances within your relationship.

“Mh… What made you feel restless today?” You asked, repeating an exercise that your psychologist always made you do when you were a teen.

“We practiced a choreo all morning. And we always messed up the same part. There’s a very difficult transition and it’s just… so difficult to end up in the right position after the passage.” He said, huffing out loudly.

You thought about his food getting cold, still you knew that if you made him eat the conversation would quite surely stop. “Anything else, baby?” You asked, kissing his breastbone.

“We had a couple interviews this afternoon. One with a radio and another one with a talk show.” He said. “I’m glad that my English is improving. Namjoon hyung said he’s proud of me and that I did a good job.”

You heard the smile in his voice.

“Even Yoongi hyung said I did a good job. And he offered me a tangerine!” He said enthusiastically.

You rubbed his back. “We’re all proud of you, baby.” You said fondly.

“Thank you.” He replied and when you looked up at his face you saw his ears flush red.

“Time to eat, Koo.” You said, pressing your hands to the sides of his head, trying to calm down the blush.

He smiled.

He looked beautiful.

On your tiptoes, you kissed the mole under his lip, shortly before he picked you up by the waist and brought you at his eye level, your arms anchoring behind his neck as he pushed his mouth to yours. “Thank you.” He said again, that feeling in his chest getting more and more urgent.

He would say it. Just… Not now.

He had plans.

He took the bowl and a spoon in his hand, the other one staying around your back, pulling you to the table with him. First he placed down the objects and then he sat, still holding your hand, tugging at it gently and making you sit across his lap.

You giggled and adjusted yourself, your forearm moving behind him and securing you to his back.

He pecked your temple and thanked for the food quickly before digging in, slurping loudly and devouring the whole meal in eager, large spoonfuls.

“No one’s stealing your food, baby, don’t eat too fast.” You said, worried as he paused for a moment, only to take a few breaths and dig in again, finishing the bowl.

He placed down the spoon and rubbed his belly, exhaling with a satisfied grin.

You smirked. “Would you like some more?”

He shook his head no. “I wanna shower.” He said, placing the spoon in the bowl and handing both to you; but before you could protest, thinking he was asking you to tidy up, he moved one arm under your knees, the other around your shoulders, picking you up bridal style.

“Guk, for goodness’ sake!” You shrieked, trying to secure yourself with one arm, the other holding the bow.

“Trust me,” He said, “I’ve got you.” He reassured you, stopping in front of the sink and helping you place the bowl down. Next, he made you sit on the counter, “I need both hands free for this,” he said, picking up the pot and covering it with its lid before placing it back inside the fridge.

He would deal with that later.

“Come here,” he called, standing between your legs and picking you up again, his hands pressed to the back of your thighs. You pushed your nose against the soft hair of his nape. “Where are we going?” You asked, curious.

“Shower.” He said, reaching the room and placing you down near the sink in the dim light coming in from the window. He looked at the saffron gleam of the streetlights landing on the floor, cutting a thin, long stripe landing at your feet.

He took a step forward and stood in it, his black shirt immediately absorbing the light with a curious pattern of shadows that seemed to offer small outlines of the taut, solid muscles underneath.

Jeongguk stood there, fascinated with the way you looked at him, almost ready to hide his face in his hands before you traced the line of his collarbone, then up his throat, until you reached the deep darkness enshrouding his mouth.

“Would you take off your shirt?” You asked, cupping his jaw.

He nodded. “In a second.” He said, staring some more.

He would have never believed he looked at you the same way you looked at him, weren’t it for the picture that had become his new desktop wallpaper a few hours ago. Jin had sent him a picture of the night Jungkook had introduced you to the boys, a week after the two of you had reunited. In the picture, you were talking with Jimin and Taehyung, the older leaning into you as he laughed hysterically while the younger looked at you like you had hung the very stars in the sky. Sitting on the sofa, you glanced up at Jeongguk as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders, a large grin on his face and the warmest feeling glittering in his eyes, his ears bright as your own lips opened up in a soft smile.

And now he stood in front of you and you were gorgeous. And he felt so in love.

So desperate to touch you.

But you looked like a vision, a mirage ready to disappear like his unsteady feelings; like that ugly, lying voice could come up any moment and make his doubt you and himself, making him believe that he was incapable of understanding true love, that he had been fooled once and it was sweet like this at the beginning until all there was left was barren land and bitter dust.

He took off his shirt. You moved away the hand on his face before you got tangled up, giving him space until his naked torso was right in front of you.

“You’ve been getting skinnier.” You said, placing your hands on his pectorals. “You’ve lost weight?” You asked, cupping his face again.

“It’s why I’m exercising. It was hard to keep a routine while I was gone.” He explained, placing his hands around your wrists and pushing them down. “Am I not strong enough? Fit enough?” He asked once your hands were resting on his pectorals.

Your thumbs circled his nipples, making them harden immediately. “No, baby.” You argued, a bit disappointed. “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind if you slowed down with the gym and ate a tiny bit more.” You replied. “I love you. I don’t care about your looks, but you’re all bones and muscles. I don’t mind the flesh.” You said, pinching his belly and finding only skin between your fingers. “I’m saying I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself.” You explained before your hands travelled to the ribbon of his sweats.

“You want me to put on some weight?” He asked, incredulous.

“I just want you to be healthy and eat enough food to match your workouts, and do anything you want with your body without feeling pressured. True Army will love you with or without abs.” You raked your nails across his taut abdomen. “And I don’t care as long as I get to touch you like this. Or kiss you here.” You said, following the shape of his cock with a finger.

He smiled and blushed — which you couldn’t see, considering the dark room. What you did feel was his sex twitching and hardening some more. He moaned weakly, his head falling forward and landing on your shoulder. “You mean you care only about blowing me?” He asked, his hips pushing against your palm, his hair tickling your neck and ear, making you arch away from his sinfully messy mop of hair.

You cupped him from over his sweats, massaging him slowly, gently. “Let’s say it’s a pretty important factor in our relationship.” You joked, nuzzling your nose against his head.

“Mh...” He commented meditatively. “How important compared to your love for me?” He asked, mouthing at the underside of your jaw, chuckling and teasing it with the vibrations of his voice clad in a deep rumble and the thick, teasing accent of his dialect.

“Mh… they’re neck and neck for factor number one.” You teased back, tracing his happy trail with your index finger.

“Neck and neck, you say...” He mused, nipping at your throat harshly, making you gasp. “Let’s see what happens if I take it away from you.” He wondered as he took a step away, out of your grasp.

You tried to keep touching him until he was too far for you to reach.

“Hands to yourself, babe.” He scolded as you licked your lips, looking at him as he switched on the soft led from the shower, lowering it to a soft dark red. “Promise me you’ll keep your naughty fingers at bay.” He asked, taking one step toward you.

You nodded eagerly, “I promise. Please.” You begged, placing your palms flat on your thighs and waiting for him to come closer. Once more he stood between your legs, his hands catching your wrists and bringing your arms behind your back, indirectly making your spine arch forward and push your breasts up.

He stared unashamed at your curves, barely visible over the large cotton blouse. “Keep your hands there.” He said, his fingers starting at your buttons. “My turn.” He said, undoing enough buttons to reach the lower hem of your bra, his hands sliding into the opening and cupping your breast from the lower, outer part, pressing them together and planting his face right in the crevasse, making you laugh at the drastic way he dove in.

“You good there, Guk?”

He nodded simply. “God, if you’re listening, this is a good moment to die.” He commented gingerly. “Let my girlfriend’s tits be the last thing I see before I pass.” He went on. “Amen.”

The laughter overtook you, your whole body wiggling with giggles. “Admit it, you love my tits way more than you love me.” You said before realising that the joke didn’t work both ways: even though you had confessed your feelings, he hadn’t done so with an actual declaration yet.

“Neck and neck.” He replied, letting his feelings implicitly show with ambiguous confessions.

He drew the upper curve of each breast with small kisses while his fingers worked the buttons left. The moment he reached the last one, he undid it and raised his head, looking you in the eye for the longest, slowest seconds in the history of the universe. His lips collided with yours, pressure building and building until you separated, galaxies of feelings and sensations blooming in both of you.

His hands pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it slide to your wrists. Next, he moved the straps of your bra off your shoulders kissing the slope of your neck and collarbone slowly and leisurely on the left side, before turning to the other side and parting his lips, letting half an inch of his tongue hang from his mouth and trace the ridge of your collarbone, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. The garment slid lower, your breasts heavier now without the support of the small cage. “Are they sore?” He asked, kissing you under your ear before moving his hands to your forearms, freeing you from the shirt.

“A bit. It was hot outside today.” You paused. “And my period’s close.” You added, hoping he didn’t get embarrassed by the small statement.

He stayed silent for half a minute. “How close?” He asked, moving your arm to your front so he could remove one strap, then focusing on the other one, baring your torso completely.

“It should be… four or five days away.” You said after making a quick count.

He nodded before cupping your face and kissing your mouth. “Do you need me to stock anything in the house?” He asked, parting from your face and looking you in the eye? “Sanitary products, comfort food, anything?” He asked, his gaze so soft and caring you felt a string of your heart snap and break.

“I have those at home.” You said, combing his hair away from his face, the red light making his eyes even more intense, his lips even more tempting.

“You won’t be here on the weekend?” He asked, suddenly hesitant. “I know we met today because I called you and normally you prefer staying at your place on weekdays and coming over for the weekend; but I thought that meeting today wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t have the weekend.” He said, confused and a little bit sad. Even with the dim lights you could see the disappointed look on his face.

“I thought that since I had my per—”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t want to cuddle and sleep with you. You know I—” love you. “I don’t want only sex.” He said, frowning.

You noticed he grew increasingly upset, his teeth torturing his lower lip.

Can’t you just fucking say it, Jeon Jeongguk, for goodness’ sake! His brain snapped at him, but his heart stayed guarded and wary.

“Come here.” You said, opening your arms, and letting him barricade himself into your embrace, your chest hot against his, the late summer night making both your and his skin clammy. “I know you care about me.” You said, your hand sliding into the long locks of his nape. “I’m not used to this, Guk. You know how we did this before you left.”

“This is not before I left. This is now.” He said, his voice so insecure. “I want everything. The cuddles and the sex and the feelings and… all of it. I want to be there for you. Always.” He said, raising up, towering over you as hegave up on the protection of your arms and offered you the safety of his own. “I want you to count on me. To trust me and tell me when something’s wrong. I want to support you and protect you.” He said, more and more determined. “I want to be the one you want when you had a stressful day and you need to talk. I want your problems too, ____. I want the ugly bits too. I don’t want you to choose the parts that you think I can handle and offer those alone.” He patted your head before making you look at him. “I want everything, Candy. Every damn thing, baby. The good, the bad and the in between.” He bent to your ear and closed his eyes, leaning into you, pressing his forehead to your temple. “Will you let me be there for you, baby, please?” He asked, begging, holding the crown of your head with one hand and your waist with the other.

You nodded, almost too emotional. “Yes.” You replied simply before he pressed you to his chest, where his heart beat so loud you thought he would get a heart attack.

He placed both hands on your waist lifting you off the counter and placing you with your feet on the floor. “Take off your trousers and panties, Candy.” He spoke softly as he watched your hands slide down your sides dragging the garments all the way to your ankles before stepping out of them. He placed them in the basket with the dirty laundry.

“Your sweats,” you said, trying to reach for the waistband.

“No,” he said, getting undressed by himself.

Just like that, you stood naked in front of each other, his eyes focused on your face, your gaze laced with his.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered, cupping the side of your neck before letting his hand skim your chest, the plumpness on your breast, the sensitive curve of your waist, his palm stopping at your hip before his fingers sunk into your flesh, his eyes following his hand with unbreakable focus.

Gently, he tugged you toward the shower, making you stop before entering. “Let me get the temperature right.” He said, opening the tap and waiting a little before the water turned warm. You stared at him as he tested the spray and dove under, small rivulets rolling down his body, following the curve of his back, drenching his hair and rolling down his cheeks as he rubbed his face with his hands.

“Come, babe.” Jeongguk said, stretching his hand toward you.

Biting your lip, you took a few steps before he moved out of the spray, hugging you before he took a small step back, your and his body both under the water. You simply pressed your mouth to the base of his throat while his hands made sure that your hair got properly wet before he could wash them.

Your hands moved down his back, from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, until you managed to reach the full roundness of his ass, massaging it slowly, comfortably.

He snickered. “Are you comfy there?” He asked, just as his hands reached your own ass and squeezed it. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded, the sound of the water drowning your small moan. “Let me.” You said, turning around and rubbing at your hair, making sure it was soaked.

His hands followed the curves of your body capturing your heavy breasts in his palms. He took a deep breath before he stretched to reach his body wash, pouring some in his palm and foaming it up before spreading it over your skin, the scent of his soap filling the space.

The lights were making it even more intimate, with the red-to-black spectrum tinging the experience in a variety of tones of eroticism. First and foremost, the mildest but most difficult of them all: intimacy.

Jeongguk placed his hands on your waist, making you turn around. You were there, with your hair pushed back, your beautiful face completely exposed to his observing stare. He couldn’t hold your gaze.

He poured more shower gel on his palm and after it turned into a small handful of bubbles he bent down and divided it between his hands, bending down and washing your legs, until he knelt, washing your feet.

“Guk.” You called shyly.

He hummed in reply, just as he took a gentler soap meant for your intimate parts. He pumped a dollop on his hand and foamed it briskly before cupping your vulva delicately, focusing on the simple, affectionate task at hand, making sure to spread your labia as you parted your legs slightly to let him have access. He rubbed the palm slowly, lightly against your skin, not sparing the back, in between your ass cheeks, waiting for the water to rinse his hands and clean you fully.

He felt ready.

His hands cupped your hips, holding tight without his fingers digging in, all the pressure focused on his palms.

He kissed your belly button.

“I love you.” He almost whispered.

You were far too lost in sensations to be sure that he had actually said what you thought you had heard.

“What?” You asked, looking down at him.

He delivered another small kiss on your tummy and looked up. “I love you, ____.” He said, before smiling timidly.

“You love me?” You asked, incredulous.

“Yes. I love you, Candy. A whole damn lot.” He said, kissing a straight line from your belly to your pubic bone, stopping there. “I wanna… Can I… Can I taste you?” He asked, waiting on his knees, removing his hands and mouth from you, letting you choose freely.

You looked at him before your mouth opened in the happiest, widest smile you had ever given him. “I love you, you know that, right?” You told him, touching his face, combing his hair back.

He nodded. “I love you too.” He said, and the more he said that, the more his body felt how right, how true it was.

“You wanna eat me out?” You asked as he nodded furiously.

You lifted a leg, ready to place it on his shoulder when he sat on his hip, then turned with his back to you, laying flat on the floor, his head away from the water spray.

Your brow furrowed before he tucked his elbows next to his torso, his hands close to his face before he grinned and wiggled his fingers in a “come forth” motion.

“Uhm…” You wondered, confused for a brief moment, trying to understand if he really meant for you to ride his face, especially since you were both still trying to understand the whole cunnilingus discourse.

“Sit on my face?” He asked, his cheeks blushing — which fortunately you couldn’t see with the current lighting, he considered.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You sure?” You asked.

“Pretty sure, yes. If you want to, of course.” He replied.

Slowly you lowered yourself to your knees, his hands circling your waist and heading up, up, until he met your breasts, before heading down again, fixing your hips right against his lips.

“I’m gonna start now, Candy.” He warned you, “you can ask me to stop whenever you want to, baby.”

“Wait!” You called. “Is it okay if I blow you?” You asked, pretty sure that it would be good for your mind space if you dedicated yourself to his pleasure, easing the mental pressure you felt whenever someone went down on you. After all, Jeongguk had been the first to make you cum during oral sex, and even with him sometimes you struggled reaching your high.

“You want to sixty-nine?” He asked, trying to comfort you by lacing his fingers with yours.

“I wanna try?” You asked. “Maybe it all works better if I’m not thinking about it too much. I could use a…distraction?” You explained, doubtful.

“Okay, let’s give this a go.” He replied, completely oblivious that the simple movements of his mouth as he spoke against your crotch were making your hole drip in wetness.

“Okay then!” You slowly lowered yourself on your elbows, his lips going on a slow side-to-side motion before he opened his mouth, his upper lip pressing against your entrance while his lower one met the sensitive nerve endings of your clit, making you moan just as his tip entered your mouth, your hand cupping his balls and sliding upwards, until you could grip him as comfortably as you could.

He released a heavy breath, the hot air meeting the raw skin of your slit. Just as his tongue made its way between your labia, you bobbed your head a couple times, making him moan loudly, which made you moan in return.

The whole situation turned into a game where the more you received, the more you gave.

As you started sucking him, creating a vacuum effect with your cheeks, his hands gripped your ass, his lips wrapping around your left labium, pumping it with his cheeks into his mouth, just past his teeth, that grazed it perfectly, alternating the softness of his lips and tongue with the hard edge of his teeth, making blood pool in the sensitive tissue. Meanwhile, on his lap, you were drooling all over him, pumping him with your fist as you started losing focus. “Guk.” You called.

He simply hummed and switched to the other side.

Yes, he was dedicated like that.

“Gu— Oh, yes, love, like that, baby, just like that.” You said as you felt his hands direct your hips in a grinding motion, your mouth returning between his legs out of sheer gratitude.

He moaned again, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as you pushed his soft head to the back of your mouth, bobbing your head a few times before your hand started fondling his balls with your palm, twisting your wrist and using the pad of your thumb to tease the delicate spot between his balls and his anus.

He released your labium. “Candy. Fuck, baby, yeah, that a… I— I really like your finger there, baby.” He said, swallowing loudly before flicking the tip of his tongue repeatedly against your clit, spanking your ass brusquely before he gave a few strong pumps to your most sensitive spot.

You released his cock, letting it snap back to his belly and speaking against his shaft. “Please… Guk. Too good, love—” Your hips began to gyrate on him, his hands leading you, keeping your movements controlled so that he didn’t lose his grip between your legs. Holding his tongue rigid and still, he pushed the tip to the underside of your clit, dragging it up and exposing the most sensitive nerves, usually protected by the hood and way too sensitive for direct stimulation. Which is exactly why after two minutes your body stilled before starting to shake uncontrollably with effort, your whole universe silent, holding its breath before your lips opened in a high pitched, incoherent cry that announced your orgasm and predicted your reckless, ruthless movements on top of Jeongguk.

He took everything in.

Every small thing.

He kept moving his tongue even as it cramped, slapping your ass shamelessly, violently, spurring you into a wilder, more desperate pace as you — completely oblivious to your raw knees — rode him with a passion, pulling him into your mouth once more to quiet down your moans.

You felt your legs shake even more as his hips started pushing into your mouth, his long hums turning into short, deep groans and whimpers.

Just as you felt his balls tighten, you drew away, making him whine and arch his hips toward you.

“Please…” He called, his voice so, so miserable and pleading.

“You want your orgasm?” You asked, voice sultry.

You precisely knew what you wanted. And you had very clear plans on how to get it just right.

You looked right in front of you, at the small bathroom carpet laying just outside the shower, ready for you to dry your feet. Your escape route was bright and clear in front of your eyes.

“Does it feel nice?” You asked, un-straddling his face, acting as if you had each and every intention to bring him to the very edge and watch him dissolve.

“Please, Candy...” He cried, his hips undulating hypnotically.

“You wanna cum?” You cooed cutely.

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah… Please.”

You stopped. “Then come get me, bunny boy.” You grinned and stood, exiting the shower with a long step, shaking the water off your body as you rubbed your feet against the carpet a few times, before dashing for the door.

Alone, he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking around. “Candy?” He called again.

No sign.

He shook his head and stood up, his erection painful and uncomfortable as he closed the tap and walked out of the shower, drying his feet harshly as he switched off the bathroom lights and exited the room, looking around, spotting a trail of droplets on the floor.

He sneered and swore, staring at his hard on and clenching his jaw as he walked down the corridor with quick, long steps.

He found you as you tried to hide in the walk-in closet, almost sure you were unfollowed the moment you moved on all fours and tried to crawl under a lower shelf.

Jeongguk smirked, the scene disgustingly hilarious to him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you out of your hiding spot.

“That’s your plan?” He asked just as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

His fingers dug into your waist, grabbing you even harder as he dragged you away from the shelf, where you could hit your head.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said, putting you on your feet before he turned you around and hoisted you over his shoulder, spanking you unceremoniously. “Running on wobbly legs.” He spanked you again. “Leaving a pretty trail of water leading me right here.” Another spank. “I thought I had taught you better than this.” He said, offering you some mercy and biting your leg instead of smacking your ass.

Your world was very unstable as he began walking you to his bedroom. He threw you on the mattress and switched on the led light behind the headboard. Again your view became nothing but the sultriest black and red.

“You wanted to make me angry?” He asked, looking you in the eye as he climbed on top of you, spreading your legs and sitting in between before both his arms caged your head.

His chest, wet and toned, was right before your eyes, moving with the fury of a wild beast. He grabbed your chin and led your gaze upward, into his. “I said, you wanted to make me angry?” He repeated.

You nodded.

“You wanted to make me snap?” He asked again, grabbing your face, making your lips turn into a silly pout.

You nodded once more. “I am—”

“I’ll tell you what you are.” He said, getting off you, opening his drawer and taking out a towel and a plastic bottle, which he placed on the bedside table before he lifted your legs with one arm and laid the towel down with the other.

You stayed silent as he took his time.

“You are a ridiculous little fuckdoll.” He stated clearly, no lips, no stutter, no hesitation whatsoever. “You are my dumb little fuckdoll,” he went on opening the bottle and letting a heavy amount of lube draw a line from the base to the tip as he held his cock away from his belly with his thumb and forefinger running around the glans. He spread the slick liquid with his palm, sliding it up and down as he hissed. “You always need to act like a dumb brat to make me fuck you like a slut.” The moment he leaned over you and poured some lube on your cunt too, you knew you were in for a long night. He closed the lid of the bottle but kept it nearby, in case he needed more.

You were close to your period, and once you had mentioned that you had some issues getting wet because of hormones changing. He was glad you gave him that kind of notions too. He had so much to learn still.

“You want me to fuck you hard?” He asked, spreading the wetness between your legs.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Not so wordy anymore, are we?” He said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Please, Guk.” You whimpered.

“That’s my little slut. You need to be fucked, uh?” He asked again, making you beg for him.

“Jeongguk, please.” You called again, pleading for his cock inside you.

“She even says ‘please’. Aren’t you desperate?” He asked, rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

“Yes, I’m your desperate doll. I’m begging… Please—” You whimpered, opening your legs as far as they would go.

He tutted and snarled. “Oh no. You’re not my desperate doll. You’re my desperate fuckdoll.” He said with a smirk. “Say it.”

“I’m your desperate fuckdoll.” You repeated with a thin voice.

He nodded “That’s right,” he replied, rewarding you with the tip of his cock as he swore and let it stay inside you, helping you get used to it — still, he grit his teeth, his deltoids and trapezei bulging with the effort. His tattooed hand held his cock to your entrance, covered in slick, helping you as he fed you a small inch at a time.

The moment he looked up at you, you noticed the lack of harshness in his eyes. “Are you okay, Candy?” He asked just as you hissed out a ‘yes’, closing your eyes and biting your lower lip. “Can I move?” He asked again, at which you nodded energetically. He giggled. “I love you, bae.” He concluded, making you whisper a brief ‘love you’ in reply before his bad boy persona came back into play.

“So you want it hard, uh?” He asked, feeling his cock already pulsate inside you.

“Yes, hard and fast, Guk. Please. I’m your fuckdoll. Do me like your little cocksleeve, please.” You begged, whiny and weak.

“Like my cocksleeve?” He said, rolling his hips twice before he pulled out. His hand drew away from his sex and moved to your mouth, laying there gently. “Cocksleeves don’t make a sound.” He leaned towards your ear. “So you’d better stay quiet.”

Your eyes blew wide as you bit your lip and furrowed your brow, his cock sinking in your flesh so hard that the smash echoed through every single organ inside your body.

You laid there and admired him as he fucked himself inside you, biting his lower lip and releasing it slowly, letting it roll and snap forward, past his teeth. He switched his position, leaning on his hand rather than on his elbow, arching even further, spreading his legs wider, propping his weight on his knees for better leverage, using his thighs to push your legs further apart as his eyes closed, chilly droplets of water falling on your face and your chest as he hammered into you, the tendons of his neck growing taut, his veins pulsing and growing and showing even in the dim red light.

Your high was there, right there, right…

Jeongguk roared, loud and aggressive and so, so angry that he sat on his heels and gripped your hips, shoving you on his length on and on, his hips meeting your body with loud smacks as he released inside you.

“No, no no. No, please no, please—” you begged as you felt him slow down, “So… close…” You sobbed as he stopped entirely.

He placed you down on the mattress. “Oh, no...” He said with faux compassion. “Poor cocksleeve.” He said with a sadistic grin, his smirk almost demonic in the crimson light.

He caged you with his body, his arms bulky and delicious at each side of your head, several rivulets of water — or maybe sweat — sliding down his face and chest. “Cocksleeves don’t get to cum, do they?” He asked rhetorically.

You whimpered and tried to squeeze him with your inner muscles.

“Or maybe I could be generous… Offer you another round…” He wondered, kissing your lips. “Would you like that?” He asked.

“Please. So close,” you whispered, chasing his mouth with yours.

He stretched and grabbed his pillow from the headboard, sliding an arm under your hips and lifting them up, placing the pillow right under your ass. “Do you need more lube, Candy?” He checked in on you, at which you shook your head.

“I just need you inside.” You replied miserably.

He pouted and got in position, cupping your jaw and sliding his thumb in your mouth. “Take it,” he said, his right hand pushing his cock in, only barely softened. Once he sank in and gave two tentative rolls of his hips, any sort of softness disappeared.

“Like this?” He asked, his nose curled adorably and sexily at the same time as his face scrunched at the effort of slow, deep thrusts.

You purred and shook your head. “Faster, harder… please.” You moaned before he started going even slower.

He chuckled. “What do I get in exchange for it?”

You opened your eyes and bit into his arm delicately. “Please,” you pleaded again. “I’m—” A tear rolled down your face. “It’s too good, let me cum, please, I love you. I’m your fuckdoll, Guk, please let me— I’ll be so tight around you, I’ll milk your cock so good, let me cum.”

He loved when you grew wobbly-lipped and teary-eyed. He loved seeing how desperate you always were for him, how much you depended on him for your pleasure.

He collected one of your tears with his lips, “are you crying for my cock?” He asked, wicked as usual.

You shook your head yes. “More, I’m begging you, Jeongguk. I’m begging you. I’m…” In an act of pettiness, you turned completely quiet, trying to rebel against him and his oversized ego. Self-sufficiently, your hands went to your boobs, grabbing them, pinching your nipples, sometimes climbing up to your throat and pressing against it softly.

He swatted your hand away, bending his mouth to your breast, tugging and suckling at your nipple messily, just as his arm grabbed your right knee and hooked it at his elbow, pushing your leg up, the angle so irresistible that your high finally peeked from around the corner. Still you stayed silent — mouth open, but quiet.

“Candy?” He called, curious about your sudden lack of noise.

You furrowed your brow and looked at him.

He tutted at himself. “Hard and fast?” He asked again.

You didn’t react. He rolled his hips deeper, hitting the spot you loved so much. Another tear spilled from your eye, but you proudly kept your stoic approach.

He smirked and started going faster, now that he had found the spot.

A small hiccup escaped your mouth.

“There we go, Candy.” He said, finally sure of his decision as he started pounding into you with everything he had in himself. “Touch your boobs, Candy.” He suggested as he saw you grow closer and closer. “So messy for this cock, uh? Whose is the best cock, Candy?”

“Yours.” You sobbed, your hips beginning to stutter, trying to meet his thrusts but too weak and sensitive for that.

“That’s right. You love this cock, Candy, don’t you?” He asked again.

“Only yours. I do, yes, please, Guk. Jeong— Guk, please I—” Your body thrashed against his as your orgasm finally caught you and drew you under.

Jeongguk’s head dove for your breastbone, pressing there as he tried to resist your high, currently threatening to drag him with itself.

As your climax persevered, he pushed your leg over his shoulder, picking up the other one too, sinking so deep with the new angle, his mouth kissing your calf, the inner side of your knee. “Is it good enough, baby?” He asked as he saw your eyes slowly flutter open.

Fuck, his jaw line was impeccable with that angle. “It’s perfect, Guk.”

“Nice, can you take another round, love?” He asked and damn, that nickname made you say yes, yes, ten thousand times yes with no hesitation.

He pushed his thumb in your mouth, against your tongue.

“I need to touch you.” He said, watching as his finger emerged drenched from your lips, immediately bringing it to your clit.

“Can you lift your ass?” He asked right as you obeyed, the angle so deep that he slowed down specifically to make sure he could guarantee you one more orgasm before he achieved his own.

His thumb replicated the motion of his tongue earlier in the shower, teasing the tender underside of your clit just as your eyes closed—

Too intense. Too much, you thought as your breathing slowed down again, your whole body focused on your kegels.

“Give me another… Work your magic, cockfairy.” He teased as your lips parted, your eyes flashing open before slowly, messily crossing and sliding shut again, your body too confused and overwhelmed to give a verbal reaction.

Jeongguk kept going, so, so close, his hips digging deeper with tiny rolls focused on staying in, enjoying every tight squeeze you had to offer, your hands leaving your breast as you tried to slap his hand away from your clit while his teeth began teasing your calf on one side, his deep moans unstoppable even when he turned to the other side and actually nibbled on your leg, his hand persistent in his torture.

“No. Oh god! Please. No! Oh— I need to— Yeah, yes...” You hissed as Jeongguk finally crumbled against your body and delivered the last few thrusts, deep, slow, so destructive as your head tipped back, your final high too much for your body to handle.

He looked down, where your bodies joined and with a loud growl, he came apart and spilled inside you, his cock swelling intermittently for so long he almost worried at some point. But the softness of your breasts, pillowing his head, and the warmth of your breath fanning over his head, your legs sliding off his shoulders, to his waist while your arms circled his back. “I love you, Candy. So damn much. I’m so in love with you baby.” He repeated on and on, trying to make up for each slur, each degrading word and idea he had used against you.

“I love you, baby.” He repeated again. “I love every little thing of you.” He kissed your breast — even though he truly aimed at the heart beating underneath. “I don’t want just the sex. You get it now?” He asked, nuzzling his hair against your bosom.

You caressed his head fondly.

“I get it now, of course, love.” You reassured him.

“You’ll lean on me, right? You’ll count on me?” He asked insecure, afraid at how many things he still had to learn about adult, mature relationships.

“I’ll lean on you. We’ll lean on each other.” You said, kissing his forehead as he raised his head.

“We didn’t finish the shower…” He mused, pulling out of your entrance carefully, staring as his seed dripped out of you and down your thigh.

You looked at his mesmerised expression.

He bit his lip before releasing it with a snap. “Fuck, you’re dripping.” He said before looking up.

And you don’t know if it was for the hot sight of his tattooed arm flexing, for his mop of damp long curls, for his wide, taut pectorals, for his lips glistening in drool or the dark lust in his eyes as he saw the mixture of his seed and your wetness oozing from your cunt, but you decided you were far from having enough.

“Didn’t they teach you to clean after yourself?” You teased with a cocked eyebrow.

His eyes climbed all the way to your gaze, finding the silent permission he was looking for.

And he dove for your cunt like a starving wolf.

#bangtanhq #thetruthuntoldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x yn

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splendidlyimperfect · 3 years

Text

critical hit - chapter 4 [make a wisdom saving throw]

When Sting tells Natsu that one of his friends from school is going to be joining their weekly Dungeons & Dragons game, Natsu isn’t impressed - their table is already full. But while Natsu and Gray’s in-game characters clash completely, Natsu finds that real-life Gray might not be that bad after all.

Chapter Summary: The final session of D&D is upon them, and surprising sacrifices must be made. .

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairings: Natsu/Gray, Sting/Rogue

Tags: Modern AU, Dungeons & Dragons, Role-Playing Games, Awkward Flirting, ADHD Natsu, Geek Gray

-----

The rest of the week flew by in a blur of flirty texts, silly Snapchats, and a sushi date on Tuesday evening. Now it was Sunday, and Natsu and Gray were standing in the entrance to the basement, holding hands while Sting raised an eyebrow at them.

“Finally!” He grinned. “Glad my subterfuge worked.”

“Shut all the way up,” Natsu grumbled, waving his notebook in Sting’s direction. “You’re an asshole.”

Sting picked up a Skittle from the bowl in front of him and tossed it at Natsu’s forehead. “I’m an asshole that got you a date,” he insisted. “I believe what you meant to say is ‘thank you.’”

Natsu rolled his eyes before turning to Gray and kissing him on the cheek. “Ignore him,” he said quietly, smiling at the pink flush that crept across Gray’s face. “He’s always a dick.”

“I know,” Gray said, laughing at Sting’s mock outrage behind Natsu’s back. “But he’s also right.”

“See?” Sting kicked Natsu’s ankle as he let go of Gray’s hand and settled down at his spot at the table.

“And how long did it take you to decide to ask Rogue out?” Natsu asked, setting his dice bag on the table and raising an eyebrow at Sting. “Six months? Seven?”

“Over a year,” Rogue interjected from his spot at the end of the table. “Technically we knew each other for almost three years before he said anything.”

“Look,” Sting started indignantly, but was saved from having to explain himself by the arrival of Erza. Everyone immediately sat up in their chairs, organizing their character sheets and pulling out dice as she dropped her books on the table.

“Are we ready?” she asked as she settled down in her chair. The excited look on her face made Natsu grin, and he could see the feeling was mutual when he looked around the table. “Everyone remember what happened last time?”

“We freed the prisoners,” Gray said, tapping his pencil against the sheets of paper where he kept his notes. “But the summoning spell went off anyway, and we were—”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“—too late.”

The demon’s horns breached the portal, tearing through the reddish miasma as a foul black smoke filled the air. The stench of brimstone and burned flesh followed it and Gray coughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

“C’mon,” he said, grabbing Sting’s arm and nodding toward the wall. Natsu and Rogue were back by the door, herding the last of the prisoners to the stairs. Natsu turned around and made eye contact with Gray across the roof. His expression was grim, and he was pressing his hand over his side where a reddish stain was spreading through his robes.

“We can’t let this thing get out,” Sting insisted, pulling his arm out of Gray’s grip. “If it makes it through the summoning circle, we’re fucked.” He gestured to the lines of blood that had been painted along the rooftop. The sight of that – and the pile of corpses that were lying next to the tree – made Gray’s stomach churn.

“I can’t do much else,” he said, flexing his fingers as he dug deep for his magic. The well of power that usually surged through him was barely there. “I don’t have any offensive spells left.”

Sting looked back to Rogue and Natsu, then hefted his greatsword and turned back to the monster. “We have to do something. I’ll keep it busy; you take care of those three. If you can take them out, it should weaken this bastard enough to kill it.” He gestured to the three cultists standing by the portal before saying a quiet prayer under his breath and charging toward the demon.

Gray couldn’t help but stare in awe as he watched Sting’s charge. Brilliant white light burst from his blade as he swung it at the beast, gouging through its tough hide and causing it to howl in pain. The magic made Sting look holy and ethereal. Rogue appeared next to him – the dark to Sting’s light – keeping the creature distracted while Sting swung at it again.

“Hey.” Gray turned to see Natsu standing beside him, still holding his side and breathing heavily. “We’ve got those guys, hey?”

“You’re bleeding,” Gray said, reaching out to grab Natsu’s wrists. Natsu shook his head and pushed Gray’s hand away.

“I’ll be fine. We don’t have much time.” He nodded at the group of cultists, who were starting to move toward them. “I’ve only got a fireball left,” he admitted. “That won’t take all of them out. You?”

Gray shook his head. “I can portal us out of here and that’s about it.” He looked down at the bag on his hip, quickly trying to think of anything that could get them out of this mess. The only thing he could find was the dagger at his hip, and he didn’t have much faith that it would get him very far.

“Wait a minute,” Natsu said. “I have an idea.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“What would happen,” Natsu asked slowly, staring at his spell list, “if we cast a fireball inside a cube of force?”

Erza raised her eyebrow at him from behind her screen but didn’t answer.

“I hate that look,” Sting said. “It either means this is gonna be great, or we’re absolutely fucked.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Natsu insisted.

Rogue scoffed as he took a sip of his iced coffee. “If it’s anything like your last plan, we’re gonna TPK right here.”

“We’re not all gonna die,” Natsu insisted. He pointed to an item in his character’s inventory – the Cube of Force. Gray wasn’t sure where he’d picked it up, but he’d only seen it a few times before. Pressing a button on one side of the magic cube summoned an impenetrable forcefield around the user, keeping them safe from all magic spells coming from outside. Or, Gray supposed, trapping them with a spell inside.

“It’s fifteen feet on each side,” Natsu said. “We just gotta trap all three of them in there and toss a fireball inside before they activate it.”

“Why would they do that?” Sting countered. “You’re just gonna throw the cube to them and say ‘hey, press this magic button, it’ll be fine?’”

Natsu hummed, then looked up at Gray. “Do you have the ‘suggestion’ spell?” he asked. “You could try to compel them to do it.”

Gray nodded. “That won’t work if we try to get them to hurt themselves, though.”

“They don’t know it would hurt them. You’d just be suggesting that they push the button on this very fancy cube that’s being thrown at them. It could be a jack-in-the-box for all they know.”

“We’d have to be within thirty feet for that,” Gray said. “If it doesn’t work, we’re kinda fucked.”

“We’re fucked anyway if we do nothing,” Natsu countered. “Do you—”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“—trust me?” Natsu’s expression was sincere as he gazed into Gray’s eyes.

Gray nodded slowly, digging into his reagent pouch and pulling out the necessary ingredients for the spell. He crushed them in his right hand, taking a quick peek at Rogue and Sting over Natsu’s shoulder. Sting looked exhausted and battered, wiping blood out of his eyes that dripped from a deep cut on his forehead. Baphomet’s hide was stained red and covered in deep gouges, and the demon roared as Gray watched Rogue clamber up onto its back and stab both daggers into its neck.

“Ready?” Natsu’s voice pulled Gray’s attention back, and he looked down to see Natsu holding out a bloodstained hand. Gray took it, squeezing it tightly before turning back toward the cultists.

“Ready,” he said quietly.

“Catch!” Natsu shouted, tossing the cube at the cultists as they charged forward. The leader stumbled to a halt as he caught it out of instinct, staring down at the strange object with his brow furrowed.

“Suadeant,” Gray whispered under his breath as he took a step closer, still gripping Natsu’s hand tightly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and the back of his neck, and his heart pounded as he stared down the cultists. “Praecepta mea.”

The cultist looked up at him, eyes wide, and Gray’s chest flared with hope for a second. Then the man’s lip curled up in a wicked grin, and he shook his head.

“You think you can fool me with your cheap tricks?” the man shouted, tossing the cube to the ground with a snort of disdain. “I am Ezrael, he who summoned the Prince of Beasts, the Horned King. I will not be deceived by the likes of you.”

“Fuck.” Natsu’s palm trembled against Gray’s. “Shit, fucking, fuck.”

“I can get us out of here,” Gray said, taking a step back and holding out a trembling hand. The air sparked and glimmered as a dimensional portal began to form. “We can’t do anything else – just fireball them and hope for the best.”

“It’s not gonna be enough,” Natsu said, tugging at Gray’s grip on his hand and looking across the battlefield. Rogue was on his back in the dirt now, still conscious but breathing heavily, with his arm at an unnatural angle. Sting stood against the door that the prisoners had escaped through, sword shaking in his hands as he fought against pain and exhaustion. “Sting’s gonna die unless we kill them.”

Gray looked on helplessly as Baphomet took a step toward Sting and hefted its enormous glaive in one hand, then brought it down in a powerful arc. Sting parried the blow, dropping to one knee as he fought against the might of the enormous beast. Baphomet knocked the sword from Sting’s hands, sending it clattering across the roof as it wrapped its claws around Sting’s neck and lifted him into the air.

“I’m sorry.” Natsu squeezed Gray’s hand and let go, giving him a regretful look.

“For…” Gray trailed off, one hand still casting the dimensional portal, the other trying to take Natsu’s again. Natsu shook his head, then surprised Gray by leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“For this,” Natsu said softly as he pulled back and gave Gray a sad look. Then he shoved Gray as hard as he could, knocking him back through the portal.

o.o.o.o.o.o

“What the hell?” Gray stared at Natsu, who was looking at his dice with an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face. “Can I make a Strength check to counter that?”

Erza nodded and Gray rolled, cursing when his dice landed on an 11 and Natsu rolled an 18.

“What are you doing?” he asked Natsu. Sting and Rogue were also staring at him with twin looks of surprise.

“Saving you,” Natsu said. He kicked gently at Gray’s ankle under the table. “The plan didn’t work, so either we all die, or one of us does.” He looked up at Sting. “If I take the cultists out you can kill it, right?”

“I do only have… sixteen hit points left,” Sting admitted. “If I can get one good hit in, I might be able to banish it. I have to do fifty points of damage in a turn, but if it drops me and I can get my sword…”

“Well,” Natsu said, pulling out a pile of six-sided dice to roll the fireball’s damage. “Hopefully this works.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Natsu!” Gray’s shout was cut off, and he had no time to react as the magic ported him away, carrying him safely across the rooftop until he was crouched next to Rogue. He watched with horror as Natsu turned and ran toward the cultists. “Natsu, no!”

Natsu ignored him, dodging the first cultist and dropping to his knees to pick up the cube. He turned and gave Gray one more soft smile before pressing the button.

“No,” Gray whispered. The walls of force sprang into life, trapping Natsu in the cube with the cultists. All three of them were still for a moment, staring at Natsu in disbelief, and then the bright light in his hand expanded into an enormous ball of flame.

The explosion was eerily silent, muffled by the magical forcefield. It filled the cube in brilliant shades of orange and red, engulfing everyone inside in Natsu’s raw power. An enormous wave of magic exploded across the rooftop, washing over Gray and Rogue on its way to Baphomet.

“No,” Gray whispered again as the cube began to dissipate. The flames slowly died out, leaving behind three charred corpses and a pile of smoldering robes.

“Sting!” Rogue’s panicked shout snapped Gray out of his haze of grief, and he turned to see Baphomet stumble forward and release its grip on Sting’s throat. Sting fell to the ground on all fours, gasping and choking for air. His sword lay on the ground, just out of reach.

Gray stumbled to his feet, keeping an eye on Baphomet, who was still dazed from the death of its summoners. He darted toward Sting, grabbing the hilt of the sword and dragging it across the ground.

“Get up,” he said, grabbing Sting’s shoulder and pushing him to his knees. Sting coughed, then sucked in several deep breaths before nodding and reaching out for his blade.

“I’ve got this,” he said, voice hoarse. “Get behind me.”

Gray nodded, still dazed, and scrambled back against the door as Sting hefted the sword in both hands and murmured a few quiet words. The length of the blade burst into brilliant white flames that flickered as Sting took a deep breath and charged.

Gray watched with a deep sense of relief as the blade sunk directly into Baphomet’s chest. The demon howled in pain, swinging wildly at Sting, who dodged the blows and drove the blade deeper.

“Protero!” Sting shouted as another wave of holy magic radiated from him, spiraling out from the sword and creeping across Baphomet’s skin. It quickly engulfed the demon, growing brighter and brighter until—

o.o.o.o.o.o

“The holy magic and your deadly blow are enough to rip through the magic holding Baphomet to this plane.” Erza looked around the table, giving each of them a significant look. “As the tether that binds the demon dissolves and it disappears, a heavy silence settles across the rooftop. The shouts and screams of battle are gone, and all you can hear is the wind blowing through the branches of the horrible, flesh-like tree.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sting swore, dropping his head into his hands and exhaling. “That was intense. I was sure we were all gonna d—” He caught himself, looking over at Natsu, who was staring at his dice with an uncomfortable expression on his face. The spot on his character sheet to track his health read ‘Hit Points – 0/93.”

“You’re not dead yet,” Rogue said quickly. “Sting can—”

Sting shook his head. “I’m out of healing spells,” he said regretfully. “I used my last slot on that banishment. And we’re all out of healing potions.”

“Yeah, and this is my last death saving throw,” Natsu said. He glared at his dice. “I failed the first two, so if this one fucks up…” He looked up at Gray. “I’m dead for good.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

Gray groaned, pushing himself to his feet and trying not to focus on the aches that crept across his body. He still felt dizzy but managed to lock his gaze on the motionless pile of robes on the other side of the rooftop.

“You’re bleeding.” Sting’s voice was muffled, and Gray blinked at him, still trying to clear his head. “You should sit down.” When Sting’s hand landed on Gray’s shoulder, he pushed it off, shaking his head and taking another uncertain step forward.

“I gotta…” He trailed off, looking back over at Natsu’s body. “I…”

Sting’s expression twisted into guilt as he followed Gray’s gaze. “Shit,” he whispered. He looked down at Rogue, who had managed to shuffle himself against the wall of the building. Rogue nodded, gesturing for them to go to Natsu. “C’mon,” Sting said, grabbing Gray’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulders.

Each step across the rooftop ached. When they finally reached the charred circle where the fireball had gone off, Gray dropped to his knees. Sting helped him to roll Natsu onto his back and Gray brushed pieces of singed hair out of his face. His forehead and cheek were badly burned, and his arms were blistered, and Gray stared helplessly at his chest, willing it to move.

“You idiot,” Gray managed through the tears that were starting to form. His throat was thick with smoke and emotion. “You stupid fucking… we could have figured out something else.” He ran his fingers down Natsu’s arm and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

“He saved us,” Sting said gently. He was crying too, tears making tracks through the dirt and blood on his face. His hands trembled as he pressed them to Natsu’s chest, but his magic only flickered dimly. “I can’t heal him. I’m sorry.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Here goes nothing.” Natsu picked up his twenty-sided die – bright red, flecked with gold – and shifted it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into the center of the table.

The room was eerily silent as the dice rolled. Gray’s chest was tight with the emotions of the roleplay – despite it not being real, the thought of Natsu sacrificing himself for everyone made him desperately sad.

“C’monnnn,” Natsu whispered under his breath. The dice spun once more, then landed next to Gray’s coffee cup – on a 20.

o.o.o.o.o.o

“It’s not your fault,” Gray reassured Sting, who slumped down onto his knees as well. “It was his cho—”

Natsu’s hand twitched in his.

Gray looked down, eyes widening as Natsu’s fingers trembled, then weakly wrapped around his own. Natsu’s chest rose with a shallow, shuddering breath, and relief and joy flooded through Gray as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Did…” Natsu’s voice was raspy as his gaze tracked from Sting to Gray. “Did it… work?”

“Yes,” Gray squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes, you stupid fucking idiot. Don’t you dare ever do anything like that again, you absolute moron.” The angry words were tempered by a wet laugh of relief. Gray ran a thin layer of ice across the burns on Natsu’s face and arms and he sighed in relief. “Can you move? We should get out of here.”

“Ugh.” Natsu took another shallow breath and tried to push himself up on his elbow. When he wobbled unsteadily, Gray put an arm around his shoulders and helped him up.

“I’m gonna go get Rogue,” Sting said. “I’m glad you’re alive. Thank you.” He squeezed Natsu’s shoulder, giving him a grateful look before heading back over to the other side of the roof.

Gray pulled Natsu as close as possible, being careful to avoid his wounds. “You’re an idiot,” he said again. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was too,” Natsu admitted. He sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Gray’s shoulder. “I’m glad I’m not, though.”

“Me too,” Gray whispered before nudging Natsu’s chin up and kissing him.

Natsu made a soft, happy sound, returning the kiss and gripping Gray’s robes as tightly as he could. “Gray—”

“Shut up.” Gray shook his head and kissed Natsu again. “You’re not dead and neither am I so just shut the hell up and kiss me.”

o.o.o.o.o.o

“Gaaaaaaaaaay,” Sting whispered, laughing as Natsu punched him in the shoulder. He was still looking at Gray with pink cheeks and the widest smile Gray had ever seen.

“You all make your way slowly down the stairs,” Erza interrupted, “supporting each other as you limp back out into the forest. The dark clouds begin to part as the sun breaks through, filling you with hope and warmth. Despite your wounds and your exhaustion, you are content, knowing that your quest was fulfilled, and you saved the world from a hellish nightmare.” She closed her notebook with a flourish. “And that’s the end of that campaign!”

“That was awesome,” Sting said. “I can’t believe we all survived.”

“Barely,” Rogue added. “Pretty sure my arm was about to fall off.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t get blown up,” Natsu said indignantly.

“I believe that was your choice,” Rogue said, laughing. “And you got a kiss out of it.”

“Worth it,” Natsu agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing at each other and retelling the best parts of their adventures, and by the time everyone was ready to leave, it was almost one in the morning.

“Hey.” Natsu caught Gray’s hand as he started to head upstairs after the other three. “Do…” He hesitated, looking at the floor. “Do you wanna stay? I mean, I can drive you home if you want, of course, I just thought—”

“Yes.” Gray waited until Sting, Rogue, and Erza were up the stairs before pulling Natsu close and kissing him. He ran a hand through Natsu’s hair, brushing his messy bangs out of his face and bumping their noses together. “But this time we get to sleep in your bed instead of the couch.”

Natsu laughed, kissing Gray’s cheek and nudging him upstairs. “Deal,” he said.

Once everyone was gone, it didn’t take long to get ready for bed. Gray yawned as he shifted over, letting Natsu curl up next to him with his head resting on Gray’s shoulder. He made a soft sound as Natsu slipped a hand under his shirt, tracing gentle circles on his hip.

“I’m glad Sting invited me to play with you guys,” Gray said quietly, tipping Natsu’s chin up to kiss him again. Natsu sighed contentedly and cuddled closer as he ran his tongue along Gray’s lower lip.

“Me too,” he murmured between kisses. “And I can’t wait for the next adventure.”

#fairy tail #gratsu #stingue #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #erza scarlet #fanfic #ft fanfic #d&d #dungeons & dragons #fluff #critical hit #new chapter #update #completed fic #my fic

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theislehoney · 4 years

Text

roots (wwx/lwj, modern au)

[follows directly after purple nights]

They end up in a ramen bar, of course, and not Lan Zhan’s bed.

He cannot bring himself to be surprised; loving Wei Ying has never been anything like expectation. Wei Ying had once persuaded him to climb the bell tower together after midnight, and they had settled beneath the carillon and watched the moon set over the golf course; he had taken Lan Zhan to the canal that runs along the edge of town, renting a canoe and rowing so far north that it had taken them hours to get back; he had helped Wei Ying sample every flavor of ice cream from every ice cream shop in town, including the fro-yo shops, an endeavor that had left him giddy and half-drunk on sugar; and he has spent many a day following Wei Ying around the local record store and pulling him up from under the tables where they keep the cheapest records in boxes, dust in his hair and eyes wild with excitement.

So tonight Lan Zhan does not, in fact, take Wei Ying back to his place and fuck him.

He intends to, but Wei Ying is exhausted. The shine of it is in his eyes, and the trail of conversation veers wildly from one topic to the next. By the time he clutches at Lan Zhan’s arm and drags him down into a restaurant for an evening snack (just a little snack, you have no idea how hungry I am, Lan Zhan I could eat a horse I could eat you), Lan Zhan is wearily unsurprised.

He is hungry as well, but for other things.

The restaurant is just below street level, located in the basement beneath a beauty salon, at the bottom of a short set of stone steps. Inside, the mood is warm, wood along all the walls and the ceiling, with a slate floor and the saffron filaments of incandescent bulbs burning over the long bar that lines the wall. Slim windows run along the top of the wall, allowing an unparalleled view of the shoes of those walking by. The sidewalk is splashed with light. The ramen bar is a knot in time, tied off in a pattern that does not match the world around them. Standing in this place, Lan Zhan feels like he has stepped through a copper mirror, into the fading world of the past.

They sit at the bar, Lan Zhan’s coat stripped off and hanging over the back of the chair. Wei Ying slurps his noodles when they come, his hair curling slightly over his cheekbones in the steam that rises from the ramen. His lips are bright with spice. He is an unglamourous eater, and a strange sight at this noodle bar, with stars shining beneath his eyes and charms clinking against the edge of the hand-spun bowl. In the open kitchen, the chefs speak in rapid Japanese, in which Lan Zhan is rusty enough that he only just catches the gist of what they are saying—something about their daughters’ schoolwork and the weather—as the conversation ebbs and flows around them. Lan Zhan sips his broth with deliberation. It is late enough that the room is half empty, and the sounds of chatter from the other diners are just meaningless murmurs.

“How are you, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, when half the bowl is gone. Lan Zhan glances at him in surprise; the silence has become a physical thing around them that held his tongue in place, and Wei Ying shatters it so easily. “You look tired.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying sets down his chopsticks. He turns toward Lan Zhan, leaning his chin on his hand. “Are you taking care of yourself?” His eyes alight with curiosity.

Lan Zhan deigns to answer only with a raised brow.

Wei Ying’s lips quirk and he laughs to himself. “You’re right, I need to do the same. But Lan Zhan, I worry about you. I have a ton of people to watch out for me every day. Too many, most days. I drive them crazy. But you don’t have anyone. I worry.”

His tone is soft, softer than Lan Zhan recalls, the accents of eastern China clinging to his words. Lan Zhan spends time with plenty of ex-pats here at the university, but somehow the sound of Wei Ying’s voice—so familiar, and so new—sends a thrill through him.

“I have you,” he says. He lays his hand in the space between them.

Wei Ying’s answering smile is half a flinch. His eyes skitter away and across the bartop. He reaches for his chopsticks and then lays his hand down flat, pressed against the whiskey-colored wood just an inch or so from Lan Zhan. The wood has been polished to a shine, and there are marks from the bowls that have rested there before.

“What is wrong?” he asks Wei Ying.

“Nothing!” Wei Ying grimaces. “Nothing, really. It’s just.. It’s been a while, right, Lan Zhan?”

It has been almost four months since he has seen Wei Ying. And before that, nearly six months. Five years since they have been together in truth, since grad school ended and Wei Ying went off to his illustrious career and Lan Zhan chose differently.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying can count the time as well as he. He breathes into the silence.

“I’m glad we are together now,” Wei Ying says. He slides his hand across the gap between them and twines their fingers together, sending a visceral thrill through Lan Zhan.

For so long, they have been confined to distance. They spent endless hours together in grad school (fools, they: who should have counted), curled in one corner or another, but as the years grew longer and the splendorous rigor of endless academia eased into exhaustion, they had drifted apart. Wei Ying had begun reaching out to agencies in China and auditioning to be an idol, spending his spare time recording tapes to send to agents; Lan Zhan had retreated into the library stacks and his dissertations. The nights apart became more common than the nights spent together.

And yet.

They did not fall out of love. Their lives shifted and changed, and Lan Zhan’s love for Wei Ying only deepened. Some nights, when he could not sleep, when he spent the long hours at the window and watched the moon dangle above the tiled roofs of the university, he thought that his love for Wei Ying was like a bottles of wine—it could live in the dark for years and grow only richer, the taste deepening toward the sublime, the fruit of the earth transmuted to something priceless. No matter how far apart they drifted, Lan Zhan knew he would never stop loving Wei Ying. His love was an essential part of him.

It has never lessened.

But that does not mean that he is content. He misses Wei Ying, with a fervor that borders on the obscene. Most days he buries himself in texts at the library, spending long hours in the research department unspeaking, before heading to his second job at the bookstore and collapsing into bed. He works himself to forgetting, because drink has never been his vice, and only when he is tired enough to see stars does the sound of Wei Ying’s voice, the echo of his touch, ease from Lan Zhan and let him sleep.

When they leave the restaurant near closing, the streets are quiet. The rain has eased away and left the sky a featureless black, stars and moon hidden by the clouds. The crowds have retreated to their bedrooms and dining rooms, and the windows of the town gleam with warmth. Lan Zhan stands beneath the edge of the building as Wei Ying pulls out his umbrella and considers it.

He has been very quiet tonight. Lan Zhan is beginning to suspect that it is something more than exhaustion.

He cannot stop thinking about the distance between them.

“Wei Ying,” he says, and the object of his attention turns.

Lan Zhan crowds him back against the wall, pressing him into the stone. It is cold and damp. Wei Ying is all muscle beneath him. Lan Zhan slips a hand beneath the edges of his jacket and touches him through the soft material of his shirt.

Wei Ying sighs and Lan Zhan kisses him. His lips are sharp with spice, burning hot and Lan Zhan bites him in punishment. Wei Ying twists into him, clawing beneath Lan Zhan’s coat and jacket and tugging at his shirt, slipping his fingers between one button and the next and pressing his hot fingers against Lan Zhan’s skin.

Lan Zhan breathes into Wei Ying and holds him up. He threads his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair and tugs hard enough to make him gasp.

“Too long,” he whispers into Wei Ying’s skin, answering the unasked question. “Need you.”

Wei Ying looks up, and the lights of the evening shine in his eyes.

“You have me.”

Lan Zhan gathers himself, folding inward all the sharp edges of his desire, and steps back.

He will take Wei Ying home. Small as it is, Wei Ying will fill it with his very presence. He will touch him, slip his fingers beneath the edge of his jacket and tug at the buttons of his shirt. Wei Ying will reach up, and the charms hanging from his nails will tickle as they slide across his skin. His lips will be slick with gloss, and he will taste like salt and peppers; his skin will be hot, even on a cold evening like tonight and with his clothes slick with rainwater; he will be everything that Lan Zhan has longed for, everything he craves.

Lan Zhan will peel back his clothes and leave him bare, slim and pale on Lan Zhan’s white sheets. He will gasp as Lan Zhan kisses him, not on the mouth but working his way down his body, kisses on the neck and the bones of his shoulders, on the curves of his chest and the edges of his ribs, on his nipples and the soft skin at the bend of his elbows. Lan Zhan will kiss every part of him, lick the sweat from his skin and work his fingers into Wei Ying’s muscles, gripping hard enough that he will leave bruises that will last for a week, the remnants of Lan Zhan dug into Wei Ying long after he has left and boarded his plane back to China.

But not yet. For now, they stand on a rain-slick sidewalk and watch each other, the silence between them a vast distance that Lan Zhan does not know how to cross.

He will. He has three days with Wei Ying, and his heart sings as he thinks of it. It is enough time. He will make it enough.

He will write himself into the shape of Wei Ying, and for all the long months that they are apart, he knows that he will turn outward, reaching, grown into the echo of Wei Ying.

—

[song inspo: 뿌리 (Roots)]

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vostara · 4 years

Text

hold me while you wait

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.”

word count: 3.1k+

title inspiration: hold me while you wait - lewis capaldi

[Hanahaki Disease AU] with a small, but significant twist. You might want to grab some tissues because this is, absolutely, the most upsetting thing I’ve written so far. This is not canon to hypnophobia, just involves the same couple!

warning: untethered angst, mentioned sexual content, and implied character death

*This work is cross-posted on AO3.

series masterlist

It starts with a touch, with Beatrix gently wrapping her fingers around Ares’ injured arm. “Let me help you,” she says.

At first, Ares hesitates, unsure of the woman’s intentions.

For Beatrix is still a new addition to her routine, a new member that has much to prove. She may have already pledged her loyalty to Santino, but once she pledged loyalty to Lilith. Beatrix has broken her vows before, and there is no evidence affirming that she won’t do it again if she finds a better deal.

But the woman fights against her resistance, pulling the arm towards her. She sprays disinfectant on the long slice engraved into the skin of Ares’ forearm, before beginning to bandage the wound with a roll of gauze.

“Thanks for the help,” Beatrix says. “That guy really got the jump on me.” With the gauze secured in place, she pulls her hands away from the injured skin.

Her eyes lift to meet Ares and a moment of silence passes between them.

No problem, Ares signs.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix knows that she is being foolish, that her evolving emotional involvement with Ares will never lead to a happy ending. But against her better judgement, she allows herself to be a fool.

Ares is a distraction, one that she’s grown quite fond of. Nights of bruising kisses, breathless pants, and hushed moans are an irresponsibility that grants her a passage to escape the world she’s trapped in. With Ares, she escapes from the lingering suffocation of being under Eli’s control. She suspends her subconscious fear of failure, of the punishment Lilith would distribute whenever she had displeased her. Her thoughts replaced with a flood of colorful butterflies, fluttering in the depths of her mind. It’s dizzying and entrancing, but Beatrix becomes addicted to this feeling. When Ares coaxes her to let go, submit to break the coils building inside of her, she obeys without hesitation. And she’s overcome by the sensation of the exploding stars that consume her.

The beginning of the end is set into motion when Ares undoes the silk fabric restraining Beatrix’s wrists against the metal poles of the headboard. Beatrix looks up at the woman hovering above her, longing to leave more bruises against her swollen lips.

So she reaches towards Ares, pulling her as close as she can to her body. And she meets her lips with a kiss that’s too gentle, too passionate. It’s too revealing, but Beatrix allows her emotions to slip through the cracks, just this once. And she knows that this could be her downfall, that everything she has worked for could unravel. That growing fond of the someone could lead to her failure, her demise, her heartache and betrayal.

But she ignores that; she chooses to live within this moment. To allow herself a rare chance to experience how it feels to be with someone that she yearns for, even through the disguise of lust.

For life isn’t guaranteed beyond this night; for Ares’ lust could fade, leaving her empty and abandoned. Is it not better to grant herself one single indulgence? To quench her desire, her curiosity, before it can bloom.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix develops a cough.

It’s a tiny discomfort, really.

Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.

She tries to clear it. She gurgles warm salt water. She drinks green tea with honey. But nothing works, and as the weeks progress the cough gets worse.

Do you need a doctor? Ares asks.

Beatrix declines, claiming that it is nothing more than a simple cold. “Santino is stretching me thin,” she says. “I just need a chance to catch up on my sleep.”

It’s a lie.

She can sense that something is wrong, that something is trapped and growing inside of her. It’s something that she can’t dislodge, something she won’t be able to force out of her system.

Ares raises an eyebrow. No more nights together, then?

Beatrix laughs. She glances at their surroundings, making sure that no one is watching them. And with the confirmation that they are alone, she leans towards Ares. “We can still have our fun,” she whispers the words.

Their lips brush against each other.

And Ares smirks in response, before giving the woman a playful bite on her bottom lip.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix lurches forward into an upright position, retching and gasping for air.

The noise startles Ares, whom was sleeping beside her. She reaches a hand towards Beatrix, rubbing it against the curve of her spine.

Between coughs, the woman sputters out the words, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Ares frowns, but continues her soothing motions.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” Beatrix says. She pushes the covers away from her body and climbs out of the bed. The woman can sense Ares’ gaze latched onto her back and she turns to look at her.

You sure you okay? Ares asks.

“Yeah,” Beatrix nods. “I’m fine.”

As she enters the hotel bathroom, she closes the door behind her. Beatrix reaches for a glass cup placed beside the sink and twists the knob for cold water on the faucet. After filling her glass with the cool liquid, she takes a long sip, hoping to settle the aching pain engulfing her throat. Instead, she chokes and falls into another fit of coughing.

The glass slips between her fingers and cracks when it crashes against the marble floor.

But Beatrix doesn’t notice the broken glass, nor does she notice the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Her mind is focused solely on the excruciating pain, on her body’s desperate attempt to rid itself of whatever is lodged deep inside of her throat.

A splotch of crimson distorts the simplicity of the porcelain bowl of the sink.

And Beatrix breathes a sigh of relief and closes her eyes. The discomfort that had been etched into her throat has finally alleviated, giving her a sliver of momentary bliss. She gives herself a few moments to enjoy the sensation of breathing normally, before glancing down at the dark color tainting the simplicity of the pearl colored bathroom.

She expects to see blood.

But she sees a single rose petal.

It can’t be real; it’s impossible. There’s no way she could be so careless, so stupid. She’s just exhausted, overwhelmed by this persistent cough, by her weakened immune system. She must still be asleep, trapped in a nightmare, and she will wake up any moment, any minute now.

With a trembling hand, Beatrix reaches towards the object. And when she touches it, when her fingers brush against the soft material, she knows that she isn’t dreaming. She knows that her recklessness, her impulsive decision pursue desire has marked her. That her exit won’t be sudden, won’t be due to an unforeseen bullet to the back of the head. That, should she live long enough, her demise will be slow, painful. Utterly miserable.

There is a firm knock against the wooden door and Beatrix is quick to hide the petal inside of her fist. The door swings open, revealing Ares, concern etched into her features.

“Everything is fine,” Beatrix says, before the woman can question her. The answer is too quick, too panicked. And she knows that Ares can see right through her, but she does her best to keep herself composed.

~ ~ ~

One petal turns into two.

Three.

Four.

And soon, one petal coughed up at a time, doubles, multiplies.

Beatrix can barely breathe, can barely stand. She can’t focus on her meetings with Santino; she spends her time rushing to the bathroom to hurl petals into ceramic sinks. To flush the evidence down the porcelain bowls of toilets.

You are not getting better. Ares tells her.

But the woman brushes off the concern, insists that she’s fine.

Go to the doctor.

Beatrix sighs.

Please.

“Okay,” she says.

~ ~ ~

Beatrix already knows the diagnosis; she knows long before the words exit the doctor’s lips.

Hanahaki Diease.

Her love is unrequited.

And the petals growing inside of her lungs will eventually kill her, suffocate her.

“It’s progressing quickly,” the doctor says. “The disease has already consumed more than 50% of your lung capacity. I’m afraid that, even if you recover, there will be lingering damage.”

Beatrix stares at them, unable to muster the words that she needs to speak.

“Unfortunately,” they continue, “it’s too late for you to fall out of love with this person. Your first method of treatment is, of course, the natural route. However, you are running out of time, so you will need to act quickly. I suggest that you tell this person how you feel. Be direct, straight-forward about your feelings.

“If all goes well, and the feelings are mutual, you will be able to reverse the progression. It is important that you have this conversation face-to-face. This cure will only work if their requited feelings for you are stated out loud.”

A crack forms, breaking the composure that Beatrix had worked so hard to maintain. She laughs. It’s a desperate, defeated noise. One that does little to disguise the realization of her doom.

“I understand if you need time to process what I’m telling you,” the doctor says. “But we are working against the clock, your condition is accelerating faster than the typical—”

“She’s mute,” Beatrix interrupts.

“I see,” they say. The doctor pauses, taking a moment to type notes into Beatrix’s patient file. “Then your only alternative is surgery. It is an invasive, aggressive method. And in your current condition, it is quite dangerous. I would go in and cut away the infected ares, including the root of the disease. Right now, your chances of surviving the procedure is about 45%. The longer we wait, the higher your risk of death.”

The doctor stops speaking when Beatrix begins to cough.

When the woman pulls her face away from the palms of her hands, five rose petals are nestled against her skin.

“Hanahaki Disease isn’t contagious, but there is no sure way of knowing who is at risk of developing it,” the doctor continues. “On top of the risk for your life, there will be risk for the life of the person you love. Once I remove the root, your feelings for them will disappear. You will never be able to fall back in love with them. If this person happens to return your feelings, there is a possibility that they will also suffer from the disease.”

Beatrix frowns. “It would be impossible for me to save her?”

“This procedure is your only shot at survival, Miss Amsler. As your doctor, I advise you to act quickly,” they sigh. “But I cannot, in good conscience, recommend you do this without first having a discussion with this person. If they are in love with you, they may also need surgery in the future. It is best that you give them a proper warning, so they can be prepared if the worst case scenario does occur.”

“Thank you,” Beatrix says, “for the advice.”

When Ares inquires about the woman’s diagnosis, Beatrix tells her the truth. That an infection has manifested inside of her lungs. That the treatment is easy, simple. But she omits the fact that the easy cure for her illness is outside of her grasp. And the alternative is a path that she will not pursue.

~ ~ ~

It isn’t long before the severity of her condition becomes impossible to hide. Her health deteriorates at a rapid pace, and soon Beatrix is unable to stand for long periods of time. She frequently collapses, consumed by long fits of painful coughing. The woman is almost breathless, barely able to fill her lungs with the bare minimum of oxygen required to keep her going.

You need to go back to the doctor.

“No,” Beatrix says. “I already got my diagnosis.”

They were wrong. Ares says. You need new treatment.

The woman coughs and it’s exhausting. “Nothing will help,” she whispers.

Bullshit. Ares frowns. You are just stubborn.

When Beatrix attempts to respond, she unleashes a new onslaught of coughing. The pain is overwhelming and liquid pools in the corner of her eyes. She feels the petals sliding through her throat. They exit her body and land on the cold stone of the floor beneath her.

“It’s Hanahaki Disease,” Beatrix says.

Ares lowers herself to the ground, sitting in the empty space next to Beatrix. She places a hand beneath the woman’s chin, turning her head to look at her.

Who is the cause?

The truth almost slips out, but Beatrix quenches that instinct. Would it not be more kind, to hide the truth? To spare Ares; to save her from experiencing the guilt, the knowledge, of being the cause for her demise? And what if her affections are returned?

It would be selfish to tell Ares. Selfish to expose her heart, to force Ares to cope with the knowledge that their relationship was cursed from the very beginning. That there exists no solution in which they are both able to live and be together. Because even with the surgery, it would be pure torture for Beatrix to share her feelings, just to have them sliced away, ripped from the confines of her body. And the risk of condemning Ares to share the same fate was nothing more than cruelty.

It would not be fair.

No, it would not be kind.

Ares had not forced Beatrix into falling in love her. Beatrix had done so willingly, had been the pursuer, not the pursued.

Beatrix pulls her gaze away from Ares, focusing her sights on the stone. “Santino,” she says.

But had she not looked away, she would have seen it.

It was there, for just a split-second, painted and unconcealed in Ares’ features.

Heartbreak.

~ ~ ~

With Santino’s permission, Ares takes Beatrix away from their Camorra duties. The pair travel to Germany, locking themselves away inside of a cottage; one that is hidden within the woods of a rural town. It’s a location that Beatrix has escaped to before, a shelter she latched onto when she had first attempted to slip away from Lilith’s grasp.

Though Beatrix is embarrassed by her dependence on the woman, she is thankful that Ares was more than willing to help her. The lack of sufficient oxygen being supplied to her body leaves her weak, unable to do tasks that were once easy, thoughtless.

Just a few months ago, showering with Ares was energetic, fueled by intoxicating kisses and touches that ignited quickening heartbeats. Masked by the noise of running water, Beatrix had allowed herself to be more vocal with her sounds, had allowed Ares to fully experience each response she was coaxing from the woman. But now, bathing has simplified to the two woman laying together inside of the small bathtub.

Their routine is simple.

Ares starts the bath, ensuring that the water’s temperature is warm enough to soothe the aches permanently settled inside of Beatrix’s chest. When the water has filled the tub halfway, Ares carries Beatrix into the bathroom. She helps her undress, before undressing herself. The pair settle themselves into the water, and then Ares washes her hair, her body. She rubs her hands across the woman’s chest, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

And in those moments, Ares wishes that she could switch places with Beatrix, that she could save her. That she could go back in time and convince Santino to ignore the woman, to refuse her offer to kill Angelo. A life where she hasn’t loved Beatrix, hasn’t known Beatrix, is a sacrifice she could make. A sacrifice she would willing make, if it meant there was a chance of Beatrix never developing this disease. Because she knows that she will never care for someone again, not in the way she’s cared for this woman. And to live the rest of her life without her embrace would be worse than torture from the cruelest of tormentors.

Beatrix leans back, pressing her skin against the woman’s chest.

Ares responds by wrapping her arms around her, embracing Beatrix in a hug that’s too intimate, too revealing of her buried emotions.

Everything is just too overwhelming. Beatrix knows that it’s no longer a matter of months or weeks, that her time left before the disease fully consumes her has been reduced to a number of days. But it’s painful to cry, an exhausting action. It eats away the little amount of air that she can hold in her crowded lungs.

“I lied,” Beatrix whispers.

Ares tightens her grip on the woman’s waist, urging her to continue.

“It was never Santino,” she admits. “It was you. I love you.”

Ares removes her hands from the woman, lifting them out of the water. I love you, she says. And then she pulls Beatrix back into her arms and nudges her nose against the skin of her delicate neck.

Beatrix is never able to speak again.

~ ~ ~

In her last moments, Ares is with her. An oxygen mask is secured in place, but it only delays the inevitable. Still, Beatrix cherishes these few extra moments, this tiny extension of time that she can spend with her lover. They lay together in the bed, covered by a mountain of emerald green blankets.

Even knowing her fate, there is nothing she would have changed. And given the chance, she would do it all over again. Because love was never something she thought she could experience; the concept of love has always felt like a gift that would never be granted. She has done terrible things to those who did not deserve it, has sealed the tragic fate of innocent people. And if this is her punishment, her only chance to repent, she accepts it.

And the truth is that she has been lucky, to survive the consequences of betraying Eli, to survive the wrath of Lilith. She has been lucky to live long, long beyond the day when Angelo had planted a bullet inside of her. Throughout her career, her life, she has come so close to embracing the hand of Death himself. Yet, she has always refused him, choosing to push him away and cling onto the robes of the Angel of Life. But the Angel is tired, tired of her relentless begging, her pleading for another day—just one more.

Beatrix accepts her fate, accepts the pain. And she does so, knowing that unlike her victims, she can spend her last moments within the embrace of someone who loves her, is devoted to her. That this is a luxury she doesn’t deserve, but has been gifted, regardless.

She wraps her fingers around the woman’s hand, pulling it close to her chest.

And she smiles, knowing that their love is requited and Ares will be safe.

a/n: hello! thank you for reading my work. if you like my content, please consider reblogging this piece. it is a simple action that truly helps a small author like me be seen by others. i do also appreciate any likes/comments you are willing to leave.

sorry for being a sad clown and writing this, but i had an idea and i was itching to write it. normal updates for hypnophobia will resume after i’ve settled into my new apartment! so you can expect that in the next 2-3 weeks, depending on when i’m able to set up wifi.

twitter: VostaraFics

#ares x reader #ares fic #ares x original character #ares x original female character #ares x beatrix #ares john wick #john wick #ruby rose #ruby rose fic #ruby rose x reader #ruby rose x original character #ruby rose x original female character #v.writings #vostara #fic: hold me while you wait #fic: hypnophobia #series: she drowns in liquid gold #emersonsfam

29 notes · View notes

trashystarker · 4 years

Note

starker - Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin PLS PLS PLS? I LOVE U LOTS UR TRASH IS AMAZING

For you, anon?? I’d be more than happy to write this. Have some FLUFFY Starker. :)

Rating: General (lots of fluff) Word Count: ~1460

***

Tony set his drink down, and looked across the way to see Peter was staring intently at something on his laptop. What it was, he had no idea, but it seemed to be taking all of his attention and Tony wasn’t sure if he was pleased with that or not. They were supposed to be relaxing tonight - after a somewhat strenuous mission yesterday, Tony made the executive decision that they were going to spend some quality time together with one another. Peter had made no objections, but here he was, doing something other than resting.

“You know, when I said I wanted you to come over here tonight, I didn’t mean I wanted you here with your laptop.” Tony remarked, as he handed Peter a can of Coke. “You’re worse than me.”

“I need to finish this.” Peter continued to type, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “The deadline is tonight at midnight.”

“What deadline?” He sat down next to him on the couch, holding a glass of bourbon in his hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. “You didn’t tell me you had something due tonight. We could have done this tomorrow night.” He set the bowl down, then took a sip of his alcohol.

“It’s an application for NYU.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “I’m sorry, did you say an application for NYU? What happened to MIT? Or, are you going to go to the west coast and try Caltech?”

“I can’t go to either of those schools.” Peter shook his head, still focused on the screen. “I have to stay here. The Avengers are here. Why would I leave?”

“Because you’d be a fool if you didn’t.” Tony took another sip of his bourbon, then set the glass down on the table. “Come here.” He held his arms out, and motioned to the laptop. “Put that away. You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

Peter groaned. “Give me five more minutes. I promise I’ll be done by then. Five minutes, Tony.”

“Five minutes. Friday? Please set the timer for five minutes.”

“Are you serious right now?”

Tony looked at Peter and nodded his head. “Dead serious. I wanted tonight to be about us. About surviving another mission together. But someone has decided that a college application to a subpar school is more important than actually spending time with his lover.”

“You are such a child. Don’t be upset because I’m keeping my options open. Any sane high schooler would be doing this.”

“Only I get to roll my eyes.” Tony commented, after he saw Peter roll his eyes at him. “And not every teenager is as bright as you are. You don’t need options. Everyone is already knocking on your door. Friday? How much time is left?”

“Four minutes and ten seconds, boss.”

Another frustrated groan left his young lover’s mouth. “Stop talking to me!”

Tony waited for Peter to look at him as he pantomimed zipping his lips shut, then leaned back against the couch with his bourbon back in his hand. He watched Peter type furiously on the keyboard, then stop to check what he’s written, only to do it again. It was both amusing and fascinating to watch, as Peter would look like he’s murdering his keyboard with how fast he was typing. He almost felt bad for the keyboard.

“There. Done.” Peter closed his laptop, and picked up his soda. “Next one that’s due is next week.”

“And where is that for?” Tony asked as he watched Peter drink half of his soda in one go. “Another pissant school?”

“You just won’t let this go, will you?” Peter set his soda down, and crawled onto Tony’s lap facing him, a smirk on his lips. “Why are you so upset that I’m not saying yes to MIT first?”

“Because, I want you to get the best education that money-”

“Scholarships.”

“That scholarships can buy.” He finished after being corrected by Peter. “They’ve already offered you a full ride.”

“I know you pulled some strings.” Scooting up higher on Tony’s lap, Peter brushed his lips against Tony’s jawline, making him close his eyes with a soft groan at the intimate touch. “Maybe I want to do something on my own.”

“I did no such thing.” Tony had made sure to stay out of it, because yes - it was his alma mater and he very well could have told them to give Peter a full ride but he didn’t. “Whether you choose to believe me is up to you.”

The lips that had been touching his jawline were now teasing his lips, Peter only letting them stay for a few seconds before moving them away. “I believe you, Tony.”

“Good. Now, give me a proper kiss, would you? You’re killing me here, Smalls.”

His eyes closed as Peter finally gave him exactly what he wanted; that delicious pressure of his lips against his. He began to sink against the couch, as he parted his lips, Peter’s tongue pushing its way into his mouth with the insistence that made Tony’s stomach roll. He began to groan into the kiss, but that groan quickly turned into a gasp as he felt Peter’s cold hands touch his stomach, startling him into ending the kiss seconds after it had begun.

“Jesus, honey.” Tony stared at Peter, who had a pleased smirk on his lips. “Why the hell are your hands so cold?” He put his hands over the bump on his stomach where Peter’s hands were staying, those icy cold fingers continuing to touch his torso. He tried to warm them up fast, the hair on his arms standing on end as Peter’s palms pressed against his skin.

“They always get cold when I type like that.” Peter’s hands slide to his sides, Tony groaning as he tries not to let the sensation tickle him. “Warm them up for me?”

“I’m trying, but they are like ice cubes.” Tony brought his lips back to Peter’s, their kisses resuming as his body grew used to the cool touches. Or maybe it was because Peter’s hands were finally warming up - he had no idea. All he knew was that Peter’s tongue was back in his mouth, their hips lining up perfectly as they returned to their make-out session.

Peter pulled away this time, and brought his head to Tony’s shoulder as they both took a few deep breaths. “Are you going to be upset with me if I decide to go to one of the lesser colleges?”

“No.” He rested his head on top of Peter’s, holding him in his arms. “You can make your own decisions.”

“Even if it means I move to California?”

“You do know that I have a west coast office? I used to live out there before moving here thanks to the Avengers.” Tony pulled Peter a little closer to him. “If you choose to go out there, then I guess I’m going to have to split my time between the two coasts.”

His young lover lifted his head and looked at him with a surprised expression on his face. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would.” He nodded, smiling as he reached up to fix Peter’s messy hair. “But we’ll worry about it when it happens. For now, you keep applying. Find the best fit for you.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Peter returned his head to his shoulder, Tony’s arms wrapping around him in a protective embrace. “May wants me to stay here, and I know you want me to too, but like I said. I want to keep my options open.”

“Very smart.” Tony kissed just below Peter’s jawline. “Now, enough talk about college. Let’s watch a movie. You have to help me eat this popcorn.”

“Did you sprinkle M&Ms in it?”

“You know that I did.” He felt Peter shift on his lap, turning so that he could look at the television. Reaching for the bowl, he set it on top of Peter’s lap and smiled. He put on the newest sci-fi movie that had come out a few weeks prior, and reached for some popcorn mixed with the chocolate candy. “I love you, Peter.” He whispered into Peter’s ear, and heard him make a quiet happy noise.

“I love you too, Tony.”

College was still a year away, but he knew that wherever Peter wound up, he’d be finding a residence nearby. Because he wasn’t about to let go of the most important thing in his life. Returning his head to rest on top of Peter’s, he settled in to watch the movie with his young lover, finally getting to enjoy a little relaxation with him.

#starker #my writing #drabble request #Anonymous

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thecleverdame · 4 years

Text

Gods of Twilight - 4

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta: ilikaicalie

*Chapters 5-24 are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

“You know him?” your husband inquires as you attempt to walk side by side toward the Great Hall. His long legs are moving faster than you can walk and you have to scurry beside him to keep up.

“My father knew him. I’ve only heard the stories.” You look to Sam who’s dressed to the nines, as are you in an ornate forest green dress. You’re hosting the King of the neighboring Kingdom of Easton. “He has quite the reputation.”

While you haven’t been privy to all of the goings on, you’re aware of the issue between the lands. King Luther rules with an iron fist but he’s been less controlled with how his inhabitants treat the borderlands. His people have crossed in Lebanon several times, poaching wild game and last week, killing a farmer and his wife before pillaging their home. It’s serious enough that Sam’s hosting a formal dinner as a peace offering, in hopes of finding a solution before things escalate.

“Luther is the last person I want to waste my time on.” Sam takes your arm without looking, tucking it over his as you both pause outside the dining room. Despite how little time you spend together in private, as a king and queen it’s imperative that you present the illusion of a united front.

“Do you need me to do anything?” You inquire, thinking back to your mother hosting many parties, lubricating the social gears. She was more instrumental in political posturing than even your father.

“He likes beautiful women.” He stops to look at you, eyes sweeping across the swell of your breasts before flickering upward. “Flatter him. Be agreeable.”

“I can do that.” You smile, taking his hand as you enter the hall.

There’s music playing, a band of musicians strumming an upbeat tune from the corner from the hall. A court jester has center stage, precariously balanced on one hand. Sam has certainly pulled out all the stops. The moment you enter the room the music fades and the entertainment comes to an abrupt halt, all eyes trained on the two of you.

King Luther doesn’t need to be pointed out to you. He’s easily discerned with his shiny cloak and jeweled fingers.

“King Samuel.” He nods his head, stepping forward.

“King Luther,” Sam responds in kind, stepping aside, pulling you forward by the hand. “My wife, Y/N.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” You bow your neck, watching his eyes hone in on your cleavage, just as Sam’s did only moments before.

He’s a short, round man with a red nose and pockmarked cheeks. Neary every finger is adorned with a ruby or emerald. He is a man who enjoys every indulgence his station affords, affirmed as his wine sloshes over the side of his chalice as he leers at you.

“I know your father.” His eyes drop down your body, appraising you as if Sam’s not even in the room. “I’ve heard of your beauty, but had no idea you were truly such an ethereal creature.”

“Thank you.” Your cheeks burn hot at the boldness of his words. It’s more his tone that bothers you, there’s a hint of impropriety and the way he’s sizing you up is as if he thinks there’s a possibility of taking you to bed.

“Shall we have a drink before dinner?” Sam intercedes, an arm slipping around your waist. He’s either sensed your displeasure or he’s displaying his dominance. Perhaps both.

“You’ll need to catch up!” Luther chuckles, patting his belly.

Sam sits at the head of the table, you at his right, directly across from King Luther.

The visiting King’s knights are lining the wall, next to the guards from your kingdom. The room is filled with men who have fought and killed, it’s an energy you’ll never grow used to.

Sam and Luther talk as the music plays and the Jester juggles a series of increasingly large objects. You try your best to remain attentive, but after your second glass of wine your mind wanders off, daydreaming about your old life and how different things could have been.

You’re jarred back to attention by a bowl of thick soup being set in front of you, a heap of meat and boiled vegetables in dark broth.

“This looks wonderful!” Luther picks up his spoon.

“Indeed.” You nod.

Luther shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth and Sam just stirs his own portion, looking annoyed.

“Tell me, King Luther. Did you have a good harvest?” You ask sweetly, taking another sip of wine.

“Yes, one of the best in recent history,” he says, looking rather self-satisfied. “But I have my men oversee each farmer, we do our own assessment of their crop to ensure they’re not cheating the system.”

From the years of your father’s dinner time discussion, you know the history of his land. He’s a tyrant who requires each every soul to pay an obscene monthly tax. Fifty percent of every penny made or crops harvested goes into the King’s bulging coffers.

“How fortunate.” You smile tightly, glancing at Sam who’s watching Luther like a hawk, both his forearms on the table. “And your wife, Queen Katherine, is she well?”

“She’s well as can be expected. She suffers through the changing seasons, her mood sours this time of year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer. As you sit back, your bowl is whisked away and servants lay out a feast before you. There’s stuffed peacock, roasted wild boar, and pears in red wine. The royal taster comes to the table, sampling all of Sam’s food before the three of you begin to eat.

“And your children, you have two sons, don’t you? Are they well?” Your question is met with a shrug as he rips at the pig with his teeth, lacking any and all manners you would expect from a man of his standing.

“My sons are lazy,” Luther grunts, picking meat from his teeth.

Your appetite is ruined. The sight of him eating as if he’s feeding from a trough erases your hunger. Sam cuts his meat like a gentleman, seemingly unphased by the feral display.

“Luther, I’m hoping we can speak of the recent situation between our Kingdoms.” Sam wipes his mouth with a cloth, dropping it to the table.

“Situation?” Luther looks up as if it’s the first he’s heard of it. He taps his glass with a dirty fork and a serf refills his wine.

“Several times over the last month your men have encroached, crossed the border to hunt. As you know we have certain restrictions. They’ve killed several deer and three wolves.” Sam’s nose scrunches up and you swear his lips curl in a barely visible snarl. But Luther is paying him no attention.

“Your precious wolves.” He shakes his head. “How do you know it was my men?” The round man looks at Sam, resting his arms on the table. He doesn’t stop chewing, an amused look on his face.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Sam balks, sitting up straight.

“Of course not,” he waves his hand. “But how do you know for sure? I assume you weren’t out there in the wood, spying on poachers. So how do we really know for sure.”

“I know.” Sam clears his throat. “Hunters aside, two men from your village crossed into our land and robbed and murdered a farmer and his wife. An old man who was defenseless. It was a vicious attack.”

“You know what they’re like.” Rolling his eyes, Luther sets down his glass, balling his fists. “Peasants are always fighting and killing and fucking. They’re animals.”

“I’ll ask you to watch your language in front of my wife.” Sam doesn’t skip a beat. “I expect loyalty from my people, and in return, they expect my protection and fair justice.”

“Was this man a lord? Someone of importance” Luther looks confused, glancing at you. “I was told his farm was failing.”

“That is not the point.” Sam counters, losing his patience by the second. “Two of your men murdered two of mine. We know who the culprits are, all I ask is that you turn them over to me so that I can make an example of them.”

“Now listen,” Luther smiles at Sam. “I’ll handle this my own way. I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” Sam shakes his head.

“Where is your brother?” he slurs, “Dean has always been the more reasonable one. Why don’t you send him to me and we’ll work out a compromise.”

“I am King. Not my brother,” Sam spits, his eyes shining with anger. “And we need to sort this out Luther before things become less polite.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m stating a fact. If these crimes go unpunished there will be more.”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. I’ve had enough of this tonight.�� He sighs heavily, resting both hands over his stomach. His focus drifts to you. “Cheer up, Samuel. You’re always so serious. With a wife a beautiful as this one, I’d be grinning like a fool.”

“Perhaps I should retire for the evening.” You look to Sam for confirmation. “Leave the two of you to talk.”

“Her mother tried to marry her off to me. Did you know that?” Luther is talking to Sam but his eyes are fixed on your bosom. “She was just a skinny little thing back then if I’d known she’d grow up so...full I would have snapped her up.”

“Watch yourself.” Sam reaches over, taking the wine glass from Luther as the King looks at him aghast. “You are very flippant about things that belong to me. I will not have my people murdered in cold blood and I certainly won’t allow you to speak about my wife in such a way. She is mine, make no mistake about that.”

Your bristle at his declaration of ownership. He typically seems disinterested in anything to do with you, but this is a sharp change.

“Again, I get the feeling you’re threatening me...” Luther raises an eyebrow.

“Good. I am.” Sam stands up, reaching over to grip your arm and pull you up with him, hauling you away from the table. “The time for conversation is over.”

“Good night!” Luther chuckles, offering a single wave of his hand without looking up.

Sam has you by the elbow, pulling you down the hallway, a half dozen guards following along.

“I should have known better than to invite him here,” he mutters, dragging you down the hall. “He’s always been a pig of a man and tonight was no different. I will not be talked to as if I’m a petulant child.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t go as you hoped,” you offer, as he approaches your chambers. There’s a guard outside the door, and he opens it as your husband hauls you inside.

“You mustn’t go out alone. Ever,” he instructs, holding your arm. He’s rarely this close and it’s a reminder of what a large, giant of a man he really is as he looks down at you expectantly.

“I won’t,” you assure him.

“This situation will escalate. My men are better fighters, so Luther will look for my weak spot. And right now, that’s you.”

“Oh.” You watch him get lost in his thoughts, beautiful hazel eyes shifting to your mouth as his tongue darts over his bottom lip.

“I shouldn’t have reacted, he was fishing and I gave him what he was looking for.” He’s staring at you now, getting lost in his thoughts as his eyes trail from your mouth down your neck and to your cleavage. You’re both silent as he stares down you, his grip on your arm tightening.

“Would you…” you gulp, as his gaze shifts back your mouth. You do what’s expected and offer yourself to him “Would you like to have me?” you murmur.

He sucks in a breath, glancing up at the fading light outside the window.

His eyes narrow, pulling you closer and he leans down, running his nose under your jaw. His mouth rubs over the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sending little shivers up your spine. This is by far the most intimate interaction you’ve had. Two hands curl around your waist as he breathes deeply as if imbibing the scent of you, letting his teeth scrape along your pulse point as you gasp in response, placing open palms on his chest.

“Turn around.” He huffs, pulling back to look at you and you swear his pupils have turned his eyes black.

You comply, nearly yelping in surprise as he curls around from behind, big hands back on your hips, his mouth back at your neck, this time nipping softly at your flesh. When his hands move from their hold it’s only to unlace the back of your dress, pushing layers of clothing to the ground until you’re nude.

And just like always he shuffles forward, bending you over the bed and fucking you wordlessly until he’s had his fill. Tonight, however, he carefully places a wet kiss at the top your spine, lingering for a moment before pulling himself out and disappearing into the night.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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writing-prompts-for-friends · 4 years

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Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 03: How to Write

Now that King has laid out the tools before us, he sits down and tells us exactly how he goes about his craft. He acknowledges that everyone writes differently, and that how he writes may not jive with you, and that is okay. He is just walking us through what he does, and you can take what you want and leave what you don’t.

How to Summon Your Muse

“There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer station. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you.”

Read a Lot and Write a Lot

“We read to experience the mediocre and the outright rotten; such experience helps us to recognize those things when they begin to creep into our own work, and to steer clear of them. We also read in order to measure ourselves against the good and the great, to get a sense of all that can be done. And we read in order to experience different styles.”

Man, I probably can’t even count how many times I’ve seen this piece of advice. But the fact that I’ve seen it this much means that it must be right, I guess. In particular, King advises us to read bad books, as the bad stuff is usually more glaring than the good, and we can learn from that.

He also says that reading bad things can provide us positive inspiration.

“Most writers can remember the first book he/she put down thinking: I can do better than this. Hell, I am doing better than this! What could be more encouraging to the struggling writer than to realize his/her work is unquestionably better than that of someone who actually got paid for his/her stuff?”

Certainly, I have to agree with him.I remember the first time I was deflowered with bad fiction.

King also advises us to read good books, because we can learn about style, graceful narration, plot development, the creation of believable characters, and truth-telling.

On Finding Time to Read

It’s not that we don’t want to read, it’s that we just don’t have the time to read when we’re working and have other obligations and also want to write. So how do we find the time to read? King says:

“The trick is to teach yourself to read in small sips as well as in long swallows.”

Especially with the advent of e-books, it is easier now than ever to have a book on hand at all times. Read in waiting rooms, in transit, in the checkout line, on the treadmill, and the bathroom. Read when you have an hour to yourself on Sunday. Just read when you can.

On the Importance of Reading

“The real importance of reading is that it creates an ease and intimacy with the process of writing. ... Constant reading will pull you into a place (a mindset, if you like the phrase) where you can write eagerly and without self-consciousness. It also offers you a constantly growing knowledge of what has been done and what hasn’t, what is trite and what is fresh, what works and what just lies there dying (or dead) on the page. The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen.”

This makes a lot of sense. From personal experience, even though English is my native language and I love reading and writing, I stopped reading English for leisure when I moved to Japan. I poured all of my free time into learning Japanese, and I consumed only written Japanese media for about three years. When I went to pick up a pen again, it felt like a foreign object in my hand. My prose was clunky, the words were stop and start, and I was forgetting words. Especially since I spend a good 90% of my day in Japanese now, I make it a point to come home and read in English every night, and I have seen an improvement.

How Much to Write?

Okay, so we know that we have to “read a lot” and “write a lot,” but let’s quantify that. (This is the specificity that I really love in this book.)

King prefaces this section by making it clear that all authors work at different paces. James Joyce sometimes wrote just seven words a day. There was this dude Anthony Trollope who wrote for 2.5 hours every morning before work and stopped even if he was mid-sentence when time was up. If he finished writing a book before the 2.5 hours was finished, he would close that manuscript and start writing the next one. What a machine.

Also, just how many works must a person write to become a Real Writer? Harper Lee only wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. (I know a sequel has been released since King’s book was published, but don’t we all want to forget that sequel exists anyways?) This guy John Creasey wrote five hundred novels under ten different names.

So how long your works are and how many works you have is your choice. You do you. But if you’re good at it and you love it, don’t put down that pen!

Writing Schedule

King writes in the morning, takes naps in the afternoon, and spends time with his family in the evenings. That sounds like a dream come true to most of us that are still working a 9-5 and writing on the side. But that’s what he does now.

To put things more concretely, he says that he has a strict 2,000 minimum that he must write every single day. Even if it’s like pulling teeth, even if it takes longer than he hoped, he does not stop until he has 2,000 new words on the page.

King also believes that the first draft of a book, even a long one, should take no more than three months to write. (Personally I feel that could be difficult for everyone to do unless they have the ability to commit a certain amount of time everyday to writing no matter what.)

How to Keep Good Writing Habits

King gives us this advice.

Have a “writing room.” For King, this was the cramped laundry room while he wrote Carrie and Salem’s Lot. He isn’t telling you to add a room onto your house. Just have a space that is yours and free of distractions. Have a space that is designated for writing and nothing else, and make sure you can close the door to it.

Set a daily writing goal for yourself. Even if it’s as low as 100 at first, that’s fine. Just write every day no matter what. He says you can take one day off a week at first. But only at first.

Eliminate all possible distractions while writing. No phone, no TV, don’t even have the windows open (unless your view is boring). You can have music on if it helps filter out the outside world.

Have a schedule. Dedicate a certain time before or after work that will be “writing time.” Let’s say mine is 8 pm to 10 pm every day.

Don’t wait for the muse. In King’s words, “Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ‘til noon or seven ‘til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up, chomping his cigar and making his magic.” Sidenote: King’s muse doesn’t match muse stereotypes lol.

“I think we’re actually talking about creative sleep. Like your bedroom, your writing room should be private, a place where you go to dream. You schedule -in at about the same time everyday, out when your word goal is on paper - exists in order to habituate yourself, to make yourself ready to dream just as you make yourself ready to sleep by going to bed at roughly the same time each night and following the same ritual as you go. In both writing and sleeping, we learn to be physically still at the same time we are encouraging our minds to unlock from the humdrum rational thinking of our daytime lives. You can train your waking mind to sleep creatively and work out the vividly imagined waking dreams which are successful works of fiction.”

The above quote put a lot of things into perspective for me. I had never thought of writing like dreaming, but really, that is what it is. I have a desk that was meant for writing, but is actually for everything now. Eating, chatting with friends, surfing the web, and writing. It is very far from distraction-free. I also just write “when I feel like it,” which means that sometimes I have months-long or years-long dry spells. And that’s nothing but a shame.

So now I’m looking at getting another smaller, simpler desk to put in my bedroom, upon which I’ll put a tablet with no internet connection and a wireless keyboard. Maybe a notepad. Maybe. I’m not much of a note-taker. But I’ll put that in my bedroom, which really has just a bed and clothes, not even a clock, and I’ll push myself to write more every day, right there, from 8 pm to 10 pm.

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 4 years

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Elizabeth Mikaelson - What If? Chapter 16

Authors Note: Sorry for such a long wait, I lost my original draft and Iv’e had to re-write it to the best I can remember. As always thank you for continuing to love Elizabeth’s journey! 💜 And if you love the story and want to be notified when the next chapter is released join my Lizzie-Lijah Stag Tag. Lizzie-Lijah Stag Tag: @skeletoresinthebasement @sparrowsparrow

I swallowed and playfully raised my eyebrow. “Don’t think it’s the right time for that sort of thing is it Elijah?”

Clearing his throat. “I won’t ask again, the truth.” Elijah replied to you.

“Alright, no need to get handsy although if you make the offer later tonight I’ll definitely change my mind.” I said with a chuckle.

Elijah took a step back, eyeing me while sorting out his tie. “It’s your mother Elijah I don’t trust her.” I admitted.

“Why didn’t you come to me? You know you can always confide in me.” Elijah asked.

“You just had your mother return from the dead after all these years, I didn’t think you would believe me.” I said softly.

“I will always listen to you, you have my word.” Elijah replied cupping my cheek.

Leaning into his touch I smiled at him. “Mother wishes to speak with Elena, I’m going to ask her in hope that we still can rely on her to find out what she says.” Elijah says.

“I was going to see if I could speak with Esther myself, try and make out that she can trust me in whatever she could be planning.” I whispered.

“Be careful please Elizabeth.” Elijah asked.

“Of course, I’ll find you shortly.” I said reassuring him.

We shared a simple kiss and then parted ways, I went to find Esther. I knew that I was doing was dangerous if Esther figured out I was just trying to get an idea of she could be doing I could be in serious danger. But my instincts were never short so I knew I was onto something and with the burning of sage I smelt the previous night and even now as I approached the door everything was adding up. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves I knocked on the door. I was met with Finn, he didn’t look thrilled to see me and how he opened the door only slightly so he could fit part way through blocking my view into the room.

“Elizabeth? Something the matter?” He asked.

“Is your mother available to talk? I would like to speak with her. Its a topic that she knows strongly about.” I said to my oldest brother in law.

“Mother, Elizabeth wishes to speak with you.” He said.

“Let her in Finn.” Esther replied from inside the room.

“Very well.” Finn said out loud and opened the door fully allowing me to walk inside.

As I walking inside the saw items and object spread out on the large table in the room, a large bowl, stained paper and the remains of the smoldering sage.

“How can I help Elizabeth?” She asked softly offering me a seat at the table she was sat at.

“There have been things that have happened recently.” I started.

“Things you can’t explain?”

I nodded my head as I smoothed the skirt to my gown and took my seat opposite her, resting my elbow. “I can help you with that, I can explain everything to you, even teach you a new thing or two.” Esther added.

I said nothing and just eyed her up and down, whilst quickly looking past her to keep and eye on her eldest son.

“Nature demands balance, and already that balance has been altered because of Niklaus. I’m ashamed with what I had done however I now must live and accept that. But your something very different and yet so similar to my son. Elizabeth my dear your a hybrid of your own.” Esther explained.

I chuckled at her remark. “I’m a vampire Esther there’s no changing that.”

“Have you ever heard of a siphon?” She asked.

I shook my head. “A siphon is a witch unable to cast magic on their own. They must rely on magical objects or beings to absorb. Some call them abominations but that is what you were before you died.”

“And what would you call them?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Special.”

“Just because I was a siphon then doesn’t mean I am now.” I told her.

“No your right, your something a little more now. Your a heretic vampire. A siphon now stuck with a vampire body, with an endless amount of supernatural energy to absorb. Help me and I will teach you everything I know.” Esther added.

“Help you?” I questioned.

“Yes, you could become so powerful and yet bring the balance back to nature.” She replied, trying to entice me to her cause.

“Your plotting something.” I said abruptly.

Seeing as I had already cottoned onto her scheme she let out a sigh. “I am merely fixing my mistakes.”

“The ball its a cover! It makes sense for all your children to be under the same roof along with the doppelganger. You want me to help you murder my family?! The people who took me in. You just want to end it all? What about Elijah? You said you were happy that he had found someone and settled down!” I ranted.

“In another lifetime you pair would have made a perfect couple.” Esther admitted. I got up from my chair and made a bee-line for the door to where Finn sped over and intercepted my way of escape.

“Finn out of my way.” I growled, flashing my eyes and veins. Getting up from her own chair Esther made her way over, cautiously I stepped backwards I turned to face Esther, I was out numbered and seriously overwhelmed. And Esther knew that, I was a fool to come alone. But to make sure I would no longer be a threat with a simple flick of her wrist my neck snapped and my body tumbled to the floor.

Fluttering my eyes open, I squinted at the light, I sat up as I had been placed on the sofa in the room. Inhaling I smelt a chance, I recognized the scent anywhere it was Elena she had been in the room. Seeing that I had awoken Esther and Finn turned to look at me as I got up and stood on my feet. “You had Elena in here haven't you.” I mumbled.

“She just left and so should you, Elijah will be concerned.” Esther replied.

Picking up the skirt to my dress I wobbled towards the door once more. “One more thing, I can’t have you telling Elijah our little secret.” Esther added.

“Finn would you please, make sure Elizabeth doesn’t remember anything about our plan.” She asked her son.

“Yes mother.” He replied.

I tried to make my way to the door before Finn got to me, but he was too fast. He held onto me I tried to avert my eyes but it was impossible I was drawn to them. “You will not remember the details of mothers plan, you only spoke about your history.” His eyes bore into my own as his pupils dilated.

“I will not remember the details of Esther’s plan, we spoke only about my family history.” I repeated plainly.

“Go enjoy the ball Elizabeth.” Esther said, encouraging me to leave.

Unsure why the back of my neck ached I left the room and made my way back down the hallway and down the stairs. Spotting Elijah I headed over to speak with him. As I carefully made my way down the stairs I saw he was speaking with Elena.

“She just wanted to apologize for trying to have me killed.” She told him.

“So it’s true, then? She's forgiven Klaus?” Elijah asked.

“Seems that way.” Elena replied.

Hearing from Elena that Esther had forgiven Niklaus I had hope that we could all live together happy as a family. But as each step I took towards Elijah and Elena I could help but feel something in my memory was missing. But seeing as I left Esther she was happy and explained what I was I shook off the feeling and returned to Elijah.

“Where did you get to?” He whispered.

“The talk with your mother lasted a little longer than expected, I’m sorry if you worried. She knew a lot about me.” I told him.

Pulling me close to him his hand around my waist. When the sound of a crystal piece of glassware being tapped. Looking up to see where the sound had originated from I saw Esther making her way down the staircase and addresses the guests.

“Good Evening, Ladies and Gentleman. Waiters are coming around with champagne. I invite you all to join me in raising a glass. It provides me with no greater joy then to see my family back together as one. I'd like to thank you all for being part of this spectacular evening. Cheers!” Esther announced.

While Ester was speaking I noticed that waiters where milling around everyone with trays of champagne selecting two glasses I offered one to Elena. “Too a fresh start.” I offered, giving her a smile to which she reciprocated.

“Cheers.” The three of use and we all clinked our glasses with one another. We all took a sip of the champagne and I rested my head on Elijah’s shoulder smiling.

After the toast Elena had gone out to find her companions and myself and Elijah had taken a moment away from the ball to have a walk outside. The bitter cold would have made the humans turn back to the warmth inside but it was refreshing and made me sometimes wish that we are not affected by the change in weather, however Elijah being the gentlemen that he was placed his suit jacket over my shoulders, we walked together hand in hand.

“How did mother seem to you?” Elijah asked me, coming to a stop.

“She seemed helpful, I was told about my heritage.” I explained.

“Your heritage?” Elijah asked sounds slightly puzzled.

“I was a siphon back when I was human all though years ago, but now that I’m a vampire she said I have the ability to cast my own magic. It would explain how the dagger suddenly became too hot when I tried to stop the fighting between you and Niklaus that night.” I replied to him.

“Well that would clear up that mystery.” Elijah said with a chuckle.

“Is everything ok? You seem rather unsettled.” I asked as I look up to him.

“I just find it odd that mother has the ability to forgive Niklaus for everything he has done, are you certain that mother never mentioned anything about him?” Elijah asked.

I paused for a moment. “We only spoke about me, we didn’t have chance for a change in topic.” I explained.

“Were you in the room when Elena came to speak with mother?” Elijah asked coming to a halt. “Elena never entered the room, perhaps she spoke with your mother beforehand?”

“I see, well lets head back inside. Shall we?” Elijah gestured for me to hold his arm as we made our way back inside. Handing Elijah his suit jacket he had put it back on when a commotion was heard just by the balcony.

“I’ll follow you right in, just give me a moment.” I promised and gave Elijah a kiss on the cheek, stroking his arm for reassurance. Hearing the faint sound of bones being crushed I saw Kol speaking with Matt, the human Rebekah had a soft spot for.

“Kol, please let go.” I asked joining them both. Matt fell to his knees in agony then Damon appeared helping Matt back to his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” I rushed over to Kol trying to calm him down, not liking that Damon had gotten involved.

“Easy on the hand, guys a quarterback.” Damon added. Damon and Kol look at each other and in a square off.

By instinct of knowing both of the vampires in front of me that something bad was going to happen I immediately rushed over to Matt to try and shield him from what is next to come. “Kol! Damon! Now isn’t the time for this.” I pleaded hoping that the two males would maybe see sense.

But to my dismay Damon rushed at Kol knocking him off the balcony, jumping down to join him, leaving Matt’s side momentarily I looked down to see Damon landed a few punches and then snapped Kol’s neck his body lifeless from the action. I ushered Matt inside to one side and rushed down the small staircase to where I was met with Stefan. “Damon are you crazy?” Stefan had asked his older brother shocked.

“This will not bode well. What were you thinking?” I scolded.

Just as I had finished my sentence Elijah, Elena and the rest of my family joined us outside. Damon looked at me then Elena “Far be it me to cause a problem.”

Esther cleared her throat. “Finn will you please take your brother to his room, and I think it might be best if you three go home.” Esther suggested.

“Elijah please see me in my study when you have a moment.” She added.

Within a matter of moments Finn was taking Kol upstairs making sure to not be seen. Damon, Stefan and Elena had left and I had taken the time to check on Matt.

“How are you feeling Matthew?” I asked.

“Don’t get called that very often.” He said with a pained chuckle.

“Might I suggest a trip to the hospital? I heard that you refused vampire blood in the past.”

“Its weird to think most of my friends are vampires.” Matt had said to me.

“Just remember not all of us are monsters just a select few, most of us have a heart just dependent on who sees it. Rebekah cares for you, so I shall as well.” I told him. But when I had mentioned Rebekah’s name he pulled a face.

“I appreciate the concern but...” Matt started.

“But Rebekah is the baby of this family and has a few over-protective siblings? I understand it’s intimidating but she has a heart of gold and she wants to show you it. Head to the hospital Matthew, your adrenaline will fall soon.” I finished giving him a quick smile and headed up to Esther’s study.

I stood in the hallway waiting for Elijah to finish speaking with his mother, I could still smell the scent of sage burning so I couldn’t overhear on the conversation.

Seeing the door open and then close Elijah walked up to me.

“You look like you could go for a drink.” I said to try and lighten the mood.

“I have to deal with my siblings actions but nothing that can be sorted until the morning, how about we retire for the evening?” Elijah stated.

“Now that, would be perfect. As much as I adore this dress I am very much eager to have it off.” I replied seductively.

“Something I can help you with my dear.” Elijah whispered into my ear. A smile crept on my features once more as he held me hand leading me to our bedroom.

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson #elizabeth mikaelson #elijah x reader #Niklaus Mikealson #Rebekah Mikealson #Kol mikaelson #vampire diaries #vampire bookclub #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #fanfiction

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years

Text

Willy the White Wolf

The thumping rhythm and jilted melodies of trashy electronic music droned on throughout the Velvet Tango Bar. Lights hanging from the ceiling cast the large room in a warm orange hue, littered with islands of glowing smartphone displays.

A bunch of thirty-something nobodies stood in clusters of small cliques, far enough apart in the dive to not hear the exact words of each other’s conversations, but still too close for Alethea’s comfort.

Alethea sipped from her bottle of cheap beer. Danielle and Rhiannon were late, so she stood alone at a tall table. She had not expected to see so many people attending the Evergreen High reunion and to be gathered here the night before the actual party. Then again, there were few other options for recreation outside of the sleazy bowling alley in this backwater town. But she had not come here for the reunion party. She had come here because of the letter from her dead friend Harry.

And she had come to this bar because of another such letter. The one she had found in their secret place under the bridge. One that read, “Someone will die in the shower room tomorrow night. You have to stop this.”

Adding to her discomfort of standing alone, she could not help but feel like Lucas Cooke and Bradley Mills, those two goons, were shooting glances at her from across the bar’s room this entire time. While the two former jocks of the White Wolf team nursed their drinks over some dialogue inaudible to Alethea, she wished more than ever for the ability to read lips.

She almost spilled some of her freshly opened bottle when someone started talking right behind her.

“Look who’s come back to our neck o’ the woods.”

Alethea turned to look Alice Brock in her weary eyes. The former cheerleader of the White Wolves looked like she was ten years older than her peers; a puffy face with a road map of wrinkles, both products of an overindulgence in alcoholic beverages.

Alice looked Alethea up and down.

“Damn, Allie, you look like you might’ve made somethin’ outta yourself, huh?”

Alethea put her beer down and forced herself to smile in return.

“Hi Alice,” she finally replied. Her voice cracked in the process, betraying her lack of interest in small talk.

“Heard you’re a big journalist now. You gonna write a piece on our town? Dig up some of the old stories like Butcher Benson’s murders? Or those silly UFO sightings?” There was something strange in how Alice pronounced certain words—not like she didn’t know how to pronounce them, but like she was pronouncing them wrong on purpose.

Alice’s expression remained listless and blank the entire time.

“Yeah, no. Just here for the,” Alethea said, her words trailing off. She pondered her lie. “The reunion party.”

She tried to maintain a friendly mien throughout, but instantly and mentally scolded herself for doing so instead of slipping into her poker face. She knew exactly what kind of hideous grimace she always cracked whenever she lied.

“Right,” Alice said, the word drawling out with dripping sarcasm. “Well, good for you for making it big. Not like those assholes over there.”

Alice smiled at Lucas and Bradley, but there was something sinister in it because of the words she added next, “Two dipshits who’re just one bad day away from becoming the next serial killers of our lovely state of Maine, or something.”

Alethea tried not to look over at the two men and just swallowed emptily, keeping focused on Alice’s face.

“You know, you and the rest of the losers club—”

“Fuck off,” Alethea snapped.

Alice stopped in the middle of whatever she had been about to say. The weary air about her had vanished, her eyes gone wide with surprise as she now stared at Alethea.

“Jeeze, sorry. I was just about to say, that you, Danielle, Ryan, and Harry—God bless his soul—you were the ones who turned out alright in the end, I guess? Joke’s on us? We were always giving you shit and calling you the ‘losers club’ and now look at us. Most of us hardly made it out of this county, let alone this town.”

Alethea sighed and swallowed another comment. She picked up her phone to check the time. Rhiannon and Danielle were now almost forty minutes late. Not even the heavy snow fall was an excuse for that, given how small the town of Evergreen was.

Alice had truly changed and Alethea was almost warming up to her as their conversation went on. But she could not help but feel watched. She almost regretted it when she shot another glance over to Lucas and Bradley.

Still staring at her. Creeps.

Seeing Brad smack his lips after downing a shot of liquor almost made her feel sick.

Alethea sighed again and realized that Alice was still talking, muffled by a combination of the background music in the bar and her own mind drifting to the letter from her dead friend, Harry, as well as the urgency of needing to see her friends who had returned to the town for the same reason. She was starting to feel dizzy and needed to get out, even if just for a moment.

“Excuse me, Alice? I—I need to use the restroom. If you see Danielle or Rhiannon, can you tell them I’ll be right back?”

Alice just blinked and stared at her. Probably dumbfounded that Alethea was ignoring her somewhat and kind of bossing her around. It dawned on Alethea that their roles from back in their high school days had been reversed; that Alice used to be the snot who never listened to her.

“Yeah, sure.”

The cool air from the corridors outside the bar’s main room swept over Alethea’s skin like a fresh breeze and she almost immediately felt better.

She stopped in the hallway, almost feeling a migraine coming on from the glaringly bright light pouring from the fluorescent tubes lining the ceiling. They flickered for a second, adding an eerie atmosphere to the snow-white Willy the White Wolf mascot costume standing in the corner. A sign hung from its neck, reading, “Come see the whole White Wolves team of ‘05 at the Evergreen Reunion Party!”

There was obviously nobody in the suit, but its dead empty eyes stared back at Alethea and sent shivers down her spine.

She shook off the weird feeling it had given her and she continued on into the restrooms. The door opening sounded oddly loud. Her own footsteps echoed just as much, reverberating painfully in her own head. Her temples throbbed. The door swung shut behind her and she looked at herself in the mirror for a split second, noting the black rings under her eyes, before heading into one of the stalls.

Nobody else in here.

She flipped down the toilet’s seat and locked herself in the stall, taking a deep breath before sitting down. The smell of cleaning chemicals and the myriads of comments, numbers, and lewd jokes scrawled onto the inside walls and door of the stall assaulted her senses.

She exhaled sharply and produced a joint from her purse. Clamping down on it between her lips, she then started digging around in her pocket book for her storm lighter. The other objects in her purse clicked and clattered about and she uttered a curse over how impractical this stupid bag was—like that the slot for her phone was too small for it.

The women’s room door opened. Loudly, just as when she had entered. The joint almost fell from her mouth as she stopped rooting around in her purse, frozen in the spot.

Then the restroom door’s hydraulic arm automatically shut the door again.

Footsteps thundered through the room. Not small shoes, but heavy. Big. Wide soles, she just knew it, even without seeing them.

Wham.

The loud noise startled her. Someone had swung open a stall door, two stalls down from hers, letting it slam into the wall.

WHAM.

Again, now one stall closer. A shadow broke the light through the cracks in between the thin walls of the bathroom stalls and their doors.

A pair of heavy black boots thumped down in front of the door of her stall. She had almost expected a pair of those fuzzy cartoonish feet of the mascot costume from outside in the halls, but, no—a pair of heavy black work boots, matching the sounds they made.

They had stopped there. Waiting.

She held her breath. Her mind raced, reeling with all the terrible possibilities. A million thoughts a second. Still she held her breath, instinctively without even thinking about that, just hoping to be ignored. To think that this had nothing to do with her. That nothing had anything to do with her.

Her heart pounded. So loudly, that she wondered if the man outside the stall could hear it.

She knew it was a man. There was something so menacing about this presence that, in her mind, it had to be a man.

Her hand trembled like a leaf in the wind as she grabbed the joint from her mouth and stuffed it back into her purse. That caused some fabric and objects in there to rustle and then clink.

Someone slammed into the door to her stall and she gasped, only narrowly masking a shriek.

“Fuck off, I have a gun,” she said. Or yelled. Or she wanted to yell, but she said it instead. Her voice trembled more than her hands and even she felt unconvinced by her own lie.

The person outside her stall shuffled their feet. Those heavy boots stepped away, then walked away. The restroom door opened and this person left again.

The fear refused to subside, and Alethea’s heart continued to pound like crazy, so hard that it almost seemed like it was trying to explode.

She allowed herself to breathe again, straining to listen; to see—to know—if anybody else was in there. Letting time pass. Seconds that felt like minutes, minutes that felt like eternity. Hoping that this person—whoever it was—was long gone whenever she dared to open the door to her stall again.

Alethea clambered on top of the toilet seat and peered over the edges of the stall’s walls. There was nobody else in the women’s room. She hopped down, exited the stall, and approached the door.

Then stopped.

Her heart continued to drum to the tune of terror. She grabbed her phone and flicked its display so she could take a picture, hoping that she might blind any assailant with the flash, or fool them into thinking she was holding pepper spray or a taser—if the worst came to pass.

The marathon of thoughts racing through her mind played through a thousand scenarios in which she escaped an assault or was overpowered by some creep and she finally had built up enough courage to leave.

She leaned out the opened door and peered into the corridors. Nobody there.

With hasty steps, she took her leave.

And stopped dead in her tracks again.

The mascot costume of Willy the White Wolf was missing. The sign still read, “Come see the whole White Wolf team of ‘05 at the Evergreen Reunion Party!” But it was now on the ground, with a big dark shoe print from a heavy work boot stamped on it.

Alethea’s heart skipped a beat and she nearly dropped her phone when she whipped it around to call Danielle.

The call went straight to voice mail and she spoke into the merciless void of it while she craned her neck and looked around each corner with the expectation of running into a possible assailant.

“Uh, to hell with the bar. I think someone’s out to get me here. Let’s meet at our safe place where we always used to get high. If I don’t show up there in thirty minutes, call the cops.”

Alethea hung up.

With hurried steps, she half-jogged out of the place, descending a flight of stairs and exiting into the cold wintry night, into flurries of fluffy white flakes silently falling down and adding to the feet of snow piling up outdoors. The cold wet powder crunched underneath her shoes and the lack of traction on the bottom of her sneakers almost made her slip and fall as she rushed across the parking lot, though she caught herself mid-stride and continued on.

She then remembered that she hadn’t even paid the friendly bartender, Cobbs, for the beer she had bought, but whispered some more profanities to still her mind and say that she would pay for it some other time. After all, she had an honest, legitimate excuse to have gotten the hell out of there.

Still, it caused her to second-guess her actions and turn. For just one moment.

A moment that made her see a figure in the doorway of the Velvet Tango Bar. Standing against the blinding glare of the fluorescent light was the silhouette of Willy the White Wolf in all his goofy glory. But he held a fire axe in one hand, letting it droop down by his side, the axe’s head resting on the ground beside him.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she remembered the faceless psychopath who had chased her down the hallways of the Lakeview hotel, wearing nothing but a horse’s head. She still felt the injuries on her back that he had inflicted with his improvised weapon before she escaped his wrath.

Willy took a step towards her. The head of the fire axe dragged along the floor, its metal scraping against concrete as he descended the three steps onto the parking lot with a CLANK, CLANK, CLANK. Then he stopped again, staring at her through those dead, hollow eyes of the mascot costume’s stupid cartoonish head.

Gasping for air, Alethea ran. She wanted to scream, but could not.

The snow crunched underneath her feet, and she stumbled and slipped and slid forth, only barely able to see behind her as she fled and never felt bold enough to stop and look back at her pursuer.

But she knew for sure: Willy followed, lumbering, head flopping ridiculously, the axe now gripped in both of his freakishly over-sized three-fingered hands.

Alethea scrambled to escape through the narrows between houses and onto the street, where a car would have run her over had it not been rolling along at a snail’s pace due to the thick layer of snow on the town’s roads. She winced at the blinding glare of its headlights shining into her face and she yelled at the driver for help.

It took moments for everything to sink in—for her to make sense of the situation. Rhiannon and Danielle had gotten out of the driver’s and passenger’s seats, respectively, and called out to her.

“Christ, Allie, are you alright?” asked Danielle.

Willy the White Wolf—or rather, the creep disguised as the mascot—had stopped chasing her, probably once he had seen her run into other people—into witnesses.

The figure of Willy was absent. Alethea stared into the darkness between the street lights, where shadows swallowed everything and the snow devoured every sound.

Every sound but Danielle’s voice, pleading with Alethea to answer her and tell her what was going on. But the rushing of blood in Alethea’s ears, her heart racing with a million beats a minute, she could barely hear it. It all sounded so far away. She just wanted to know where her pursuer was.

The darkness had taken Willy. Her assailant was nowhere to be seen.

All that remained were the tracks she had left behind.

And the big tracks of Willy’s costume, leading out into the woods nearby.

—Submitted by Wratts

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mksc77 · 5 years

Text

Kate: Sharon’s sister

Maggie: Sharon’s niece

Emmett: Emily’s husband

Carter: Sharon’s nephew’s son (~20 months old)

Claire: Sharon’s niece’s daughter (~4)

Lauren: Sharon’s niece

A little 4th of July ficlet. Just a reminder, you can blacklist the tag #mikuscfanfic (or just unfollow me) if you don’t like my writing. There’s no need to send me rude anonymous asks telling me how much I suck—I’m well aware that a lot of you don’t like my writing, but there are some who seem to enjoy it, so this is for them 😀❤️

Sharon felt a tiny hand tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. She knew without looking down that it was Marie. “Hold on, baby girl, let Gammy finish this pasta salad.” Sharon added Italian dressing and parmesan cheese to the large bowl of angel hair pasta, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and green peppers in front of her and tossed it until the ingredients were well-mixed. After doing the same to the smaller bowl beside it, minus the onions and peppers for Rusty, Ricky, and a couple of her nieces, she put both bowls in the refrigerator and picked Marie up. The ten-month-old was adorable in her red, white, and blue striped swimsuit, and the scent of sunscreen was evident from her soft skin.

Emily held her arms out for the baby. “I’ll take her, Mom. Go get dressed.”

Sharon handed the baby over and went to her and Andy’s room to put on her own swimsuit. Andy was already dressed and was rubbing sunscreen into his face. He handed her the tube of sunscreen when he saw her coming in. “Mind getting my back?”

“Sure.” Sharon squeezed some of the lotion into her palm and softly ran her hands over his back. She changed into her swimsuit as Andy put a t-shirt on and added a couple of clean beach towels to their bag. Once she’d applied as much sunscreen as she could by herself, Andy took the tube from her to put it on her back. He moved her hair to one side and rubbed the lotion into her skin between her neck and the top of her swimsuit. With that taken care of, she pulled her cover-up over her head and slipped into a pair of sandals. “It would’ve been fine for you to go play golf with the others, you know.”

Andy shrugged. “I heard some damsels in distress needed a captain.”

Sharon gave him a disbelieving look. “Yeah. I’ll remember that when we come back, and I have to dock the boat for you.”

“I can do it...You just, uh, do it faster,” Andy mumbled.

Sharon snorted. “Uh-huh. There’s some chipped paint on the side of the boat that suggests otherwise.”

A little while later, they were cruising down the lake. It wasn’t even eighty degrees yet, and the warm sunshine felt wonderful. The pleasant warmth and low hum of the boat was about to put Sharon to sleep, and she looked down at Marie in her lap and saw that it had already done the same to her.

“Here, Mom, I’ll go sit in the back with her in the shade,” Emily said.

Andy held his arms out for her. “You can give her to me.”

Sharon gently transferred Marie to Andy’s arms and moved back toward the front of the boat.

By lunchtime, Claire and Carter were getting restless, and Marie had just woken up and wasn’t too happy, either, so they went back to the house. As they neared the dock, Andy got up so Sharon could sit down. “This is so embarrassing,” Andy muttered.

“Hey. You have good aim where it counts,” Sharon whispered into his ear before she sat down. She didn’t have to look over at him to know he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

After a quick lunch, they went back down to the dock and got on floats in the lake. Sharon wondered what Marie would think of the cold water, but she splashed around in her little float and didn’t start getting fussy until it was time for a nap. Emily lazily reached over to the dock to tap her phone and see what time it was. “I’m going to take her up to the house and put her down—“

“Wait, I’ll take her,” Sharon and Andy volunteered at the same time. Sharon had been about to doze off on her float, herself, but she scrambled up the ladder on the side of the dock before Andy could react.

Emily gave Marie a look. “Sounds like Gammy and Papa are looking for excuses to take a nap.” She got Marie out of her float and lifted her up to Sharon. “Either way, Mommy’s not complaining...Hey, Mom, will you hand me a beer?”

“Make that two, please,” Maggie added from her float.

“Ugh, I hate you guys,” Lauren moaned, as she was five months pregnant.

Sharon tossed each of them a bottle and wrapped a towel around Marie. Andy got out of the water and placed Sharon’s cover-up in her bag. “I’ll bring your things.”

Sharon shook her head. “I’m coming right back when Marie wakes up, I’ll just leave them here.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just, uh, come help you with her,” Andy sputtered, fooling no one.

“Awww, night-night, Andy,” Maggie called from the water.

“Sweet dreams,” Emily added.

When they got up to the house, Sharon gave Marie to Andy. “Mind running her a bath while I shower off and change? Just put some soap in with the running water and rinse the lake water off of her.”

“Sure.” Barely a few seconds had passed before Andy felt sudden warmth against him in contrast to the cold water from the baby’s swimsuit. “Ewww, I think she just peed on me! How is that possible?”

Sharon giggled. “It’s those swim diapers, they don’t really hold pee.”

Andy looked down at Marie. “You couldn’t have done that just a few seconds ago when Gammy had you? I think you planned that.”

Sharon shrugged. “I’ve taught her well.”

Several minutes later, Sharon was showered off and had changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt. Andy came in with Marie, wearing just a diaper and rubbing her eyes. Sharon held her hands out to her. “Come here, sweet girl.” She took her from Andy, switched on the fan beside their bed, and climbed under the covers, tired herself from the sunshine and being in the lake. Not to mention from her brother finding it necessary to run the vacuum at 6:00 that morning. She tucked the baby in beside her and patted her back until she started to drift off.

Andy stepped out of his swimsuit and draped it over the rack in their bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and I’m right behind you.”

In the five minutes it took for Andy to take a shower and put on a clean pair of boxers, Sharon and Marie were both passed out. Sharon usually at least stirred a little bit if she hadn’t been sleeping long when the mattress dipped from Andy getting in bed, but she didn’t move. The whirring of the fan and the baby curled into her side had put her in a coma, and he wasn’t far from it, either.

Sharon woke up when Marie started cooing and moving around beside her. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and saw that they’d been sleeping for almost two hours. “Well, hey, precious. Somebody took a long nap!” Marie grinned and pointed at Andy. He was snoring, and his mouth was hanging open. “We’ll let Papa sleep for a few more minutes. You know he has to have his beauty rest, and I know Mimi has plenty of popsicles in the freezer.” Sharon got up and lifted Marie into her arms.

Andy had started to come to when Sharon and Marie were waking up, and by the time they were out of bed, he was completely awake. He put on a dry swimsuit and t-shirt and found them in the kitchen.

With Andy watching the baby, Sharon changed into another swimsuit and got a swim diaper and dry swimsuit for Marie. She hated having to reapply sunscreen, but she hated the thought of being sunburned or having lake water and sunscreen in her bed even more. Once they were ready again, Sharon and Andy took Marie back down to the dock. Marie bounced against Andy’s hip and pointed at the water, wanting to get back in, so Andy put her back in her float and lowered her into the water as Emily maneuvered her float closer to the dock to get her. Rusty was approaching the dock on the jet ski, and the first thing Sharon noticed was that he was missing a necessary object over his t-shirt. “Russell Thomas Beck, where is your life vest?” She demanded.

“Relax, Mom, I didn’t even get out of the cove without it. My t-shirt made me forget about it, but I realized I wasn’t wearing one and came back.”

Sharon gave him a disapproving look as she tossed him a life vest from a chest on the dock. “Do not let it happen again, young man.” Once he’d driven off, she poked through the cooler for one of the peach-flavored beers Emmett had introduced her to. Most flavored beers were too sweet, but this kind was perfect for her taste.

Sharon left her opened beer on the dock long enough to dive into the lake and get situated on a float. Andy played music from Sharon’s phone before jumping in, himself. He wasn’t a huge fan of the cold water, but it was too clear and beautiful to resist on a sunny day. He couldn’t sit still for very long, either. He swam around for a few minutes before holding on to the back of Sharon’s float as they drifted around the water. Sharon sipped her beer, enjoying the warm sunshine and singing along to the music.

“You’re sweet as a honeybee,

But like a honeybee stings,

You’ve gone and left my heart in pain

All you left is our favorite song,

The one we danced to all night long

It used to bring sweet memories

Of a tender love that used to be

Now it’s the same old song,

But with a different meaning

Since you’ve been gone...”

A couple of hours later, it was almost dinnertime, so Sharon and Andy pulled themselves out of the water to go back to the house for showers and to help get dinner ready. In the true fashion of twenty/thirty-something year old children, the others were staying in the water until “the grown-ups” had dinner ready.

Once everyone had eaten and the kitchen was clean, the entire group went down to the dock and climbed the stairs to the upper deck. The fireworks still wouldn’t start for another hour, but the weather was too pleasant not to sit outside as the sun started its descent behind the mountains and enjoy the twilight. The fireworks would take place not far from the dock, and boats of people who had to venture from their houses to see them were already starting to come out. Sharon and Andy hadn’t been lying in the hammock for two seconds before a song playing from the speaker had Andy standing up and pulling her out of the hammock to dance.

When you snap your finger, or wink your eye,

I come runnin’ to you

I’m tied to your apron strings

And there’s nothin’ that I can do

Sugar pie honey bunch

I’m weaker than a man should be

I can’t help myself

I’m a fool in love, you see

Kate wrinkled her nose. “Are they always that nauseating?”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Try living with them. They’ll test your gag reflex on a daily basis...Mine still works, in case anyone was wondering.”

The fireworks started a little while later, and Sharon nestled into Andy’s shoulder in the hammock as the colorful lights illuminated the sky. Carter was screaming, and it was the first year that Claire wasn’t screaming. Marie didn’t know what to think, alternating from clapping and laughing to crying to just looking bewildered. Fireworks were loud enough, but the mountains made them echo even more loudly, and trying to put the kids to bed would’ve been pointless.

“Andy, stop,” Sharon hissed when he started kissing her. “My dad is right there!”

“Sharon, please. You have two kids, and you’re over sixty. I think he’s accepted the fact that you kiss your husband. No one’s even paying attention to us.”

“I’d still rather not do it right in front of him—hmmm.” Andy had found the sensitive spot on her neck that never failed to shut her right up before moving back to her lips. This went on intermittently until the fireworks were over, and neither noticed that the noise and lights had stopped until someone, Ricky or Rusty, if they had to guess, heaved a disgusted sigh and dropped a blanket on top of them, enclosing them in darkness. The distraction of the fireworks and the darkness of nightfall had provided a sense of false security. Sharon felt a brief pang of...guilt, or something, hell, she didn’t know. But she also knew they’d get the hell over it. Who could blame her for not being able to keep her hands off of Andy, anyway?

#major crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy #mikuscfanfic #shandygrandparenting

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ask-chaos-kin · 5 years

Text

Chaotic Adventures in Babysitting Chapter 3

This is one of the longer chapters being over 5000 words. Co-written with @royalbabble (I only own Wolves Bane, Chaos Kin, and Roseflame)

Everyone was slowly waking up from yesterday, Intelligent Heavy having been woken up by Rose hoping they would be able to make breakfast. Ass Pancakes was jostled awake not long after by both Intelligent Heavy and Rose.

“Huh? What?” He woke up in a slight daze.

“Can you make breakfast?” Rose asked. He nodded and got up with a groan, he had been taught how to cook by Chaos before. The easiest thing he could make was given in his name, though eggs and sausage where also an easy breakfast meal. While he started to cook he heard the front door open. He looked back to see Roseflame enter the house with Brutal, he wasn’t surprised to see Brutal covered in blood again.

“Yo if you’re joining us for breakfast, take a shower first and wash your clothes,” Ass Pancakes stated simply, Intelligent Heavy kept Rose from seeing Brutal by using his larger frame as a barricade.

“There was some spindly little piker lurking around out near Spypers van,” Brutal said, hooking his thumb back outside, “Thought I’d take care of ‘em for ya,” He remarked.

“Yeah, thanks for dealin’ with him,” Pancakes said, flipping a pancake to impress and distract Rose. Brutal took off his hat to observe the mess he’d made on himself.

“Where’s the showers?”

“Down the hall, third room to the left. I’ll bring you a spare T-shirt and jeans,” Pancakes started on making a special shape pancake for Rose. Rose caught a quick glance of the bird shape and began climbing the oven to get a better look.

“Nope, don’t need you burning your hands kid,” Pancakes scolded, setting down the spatula and scooping her and handing her over to Intelligent Heavy.

“I wanted to see the birdy,” She protested.

“You’ll see them soon. In the meantime. Why don’t you go wake up the others?” He asked her.

“Okay!” She giggled. Intelligent Heavy set her down, letting her wander away to wake up the others.

“Watch her. Please,” Pancakes gave a worried look to Intelligent Heavy. Intelligent Heavy glanced back and gave a reassuring smile as he followed after the child. Brutal sauntered off to the showers, slapping his bloodsoaked hat back over his head. Ass Pancakes prodded the food in the pan, scooping it up to flip it onto a nearby platter. He looked back and saw Roseflame still standing in the doorway.

“What up?” He asked going back to the food.

“Nothing, just. You know, social interaction isn’t my-”

“You’re going back to your home aren’t you?” Ass asked looking back at her after moving more pancakes to the other platter.

“Yeah… yeah I’m heading back,” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“You stayed yesterday, you’re good,” He turned the heat down to low and walked back to her, “Just keep in touch, you and me know Chaos well. She has anxiety about being a freak even nearly 2 years after being one,” She nodded.

“I’ll visit daily,” He nodded and returned to food as she left to return back to her home, as secluded as it was.

***

Deep in the woods a shadow was slithering to a corpse, engulfing it in it’s shade and shimmering, amorphous form, slowly piecing it back together. All the meanwhile it was taking a form on the nearby tree stump, shaking its head in disappointment.

“Well, That plan went horribly,” Knenus remarked as Wolves Bane gasped for air.

“You couldn’t have intervened! You’re a demon!” He kept coughing up blood.

“Yes, but he’s a demon hunter. So no, I couldn’t intervene until later. Anyways nothing should be broken anymore. My guess is to head back and plan another attack. We’re some of the only demons around here for now,” Wolves Bane gave them a questioning look before returning to coughing up blood.

“Who’s the others?” He asked once he was finally done.

“Writhe and his host, Dr. Grave. But right now they’re out of commission, Nightmare Medic, and a few others,” Knenus started to list. Wolves Bane stumbled up, only to topple back to the ground with a whump. He spit out some dirt and rolled over on his back, thinking about the first Freak Knenus had listed off. He’d never heard of a “Dr. Grave” before now.

“How Strong was that ‘Dr. Grave’ guy?” He asked after getting more dirt out of his mouth.

“Extremely. It took a whole gaggle of Freaks to take him out,” Knenus looked to him knowing where his mind was going. She helped him up and took the two back to their base using a portal. He could rest up, no use in him wandering around in his dazed condition.

***

Brutal finished his shower just as the others were getting ready to eat breakfast. Just as Pancakes had promised. There was an extra large T-shirt and a pair of jeans waiting for him. His actual clothes must had been thrown in the wash. He rolled out the clothes and slipped into them, each article just a bit too big for his body. As he got dressed, he could hear jingling coming from the other room.

“Oh boy,” Brutal sighed, “Jester’s awake,” He could also hear a young girl giggling, must have been why they were so pressed on having him take a shower and wash his clothes; Don’t scare the little kid. Though he admitted that sometimes it was fun to do exactly that.

He came into the kitchen and was none too surprised to find Count Jester up to their usual antics, flying around the room while bringing to life inanimate objects and making them move about. And sure enough, in the midst of the chaos was the little ankle biter herself. He just wasn’t sure who she belonged to. The moment Brutal stepped into the kitchen, Jester grinded to a halt in midair and zipped over to Brutal, faster than the homicidal Freak could react. Jester threw their arms around Brutal and pulled him into a bone breaking hug, lifting him clear off the ground with an uncharacteristic strength. Jester quickly set him back down, making Brutal stumble for a moment. For whatever inexplicable reason, Jester had taken to viewing Brutal as a sort of father figure, along with Pure, Gentle, and RED. Pure waved it away as Jester imprinting on them somehow, despite Jester being an adult, so no one really thought about it further than that.

“Hey Brutal,” Chaos gave a small hello as she gave the child the drink she choose. There was no way the kid was hers, despite clear similarities in their faces.

“Who’s Brutal?” The child asked, by the sound of the voice, had to be in the middle of single digits. Around five, if Brutal had to hazard a guess.

“That’d be me,” Brutal said, stepping around into the child's view.

“You have a weird name,” Rose squeaked. Pancakes laughed, who didn’t here?

“Rose that was rude. We talked about this,” Chaos sounded slightly disappointed in the child.

“Ah she hasn’t even heard my full name. Christian Brutal Sniper,” Brutal said, pulling up a chair, grinning at the child's confusion. She wondered why someone would be named Brutal Sniper. Chaos shook her head, she gave him the look to say don’t tell Rose her freak name. Before Brutal could say anything else, Jester scooped her up and flew around the room with her. Chaos just smiled warmly at the scene then turned her attention to Brutal.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” She asked, sipping her morning cup of Dr. Pepper.

“I’ve been lookin’ for more people to kill. I was humiliated back in Grave Manor and Im not going to let that pompous asshole make a fool out of me. So I was walking by to see what blokes were nearby that I could get my hands on when I found this Scout Freak lurking around outside the base,” Brutal explained.

“Wolves Bane? The guy who sent us to the Slender dimension?”

“Yeah that’s the bloke,” Brutal said.

“Guessing you chopped him into little bits?” She said, was keeping an eye on Rose as Jester flew her around the room.

“Yep,” Brutal snickered, “I’ve been itchin’ to get back my killin’ spree ever since Jester broke me out of that weird trance. Thanks for that by the way,” Jester gave Brutal a thumbs up as they flew by.

“Have you seen Roseflame by any chance? The girl we dragged here from that Slender Dimension? She was around here yesterday but I have yet to see her this morning,” Chaos asked him. She appeared to be worried for Roseflame, even though the newcomer has proven she can handle herself.

“She was here this morning. Don’t know where she headed to after that,” said Brutal, rubbing a crick out of his neck.

“She headed back to her own base. Social overload,” Pancakes set down a bowl containing scrambled eggs.

“She has her own base?” Asked Brutal, leaning over to peer into the bowl.

“She found an abandoned place and set up a home there. She says it has something to do with her not used to being out in the open with so many people,” Chaos explained. Everyone at the table promptly ducked as Jester flew by again, shaking the table and everything on it. Pancakes grabbed the bowls and platters to keep them from falling off the tabletop and huffed after the jovial Freak before they darted back into another room, Rose hanging onto their back.

“I don’t blame her,” Brutal observed, getting back up and fixing his hat, “Especially with them around,”

“I’m half tempted to bring them down a notch-” Pancakes began, opening his hand to summon his warhammer.

“Hit Rose. Those eggs will be your grave,” Chaos snapped, her voice a harsh growl. Pancakes slowly backed off, mindful of the threat.

After the brief exchange, Pancakes set up everything at the table, with Jester finally setting Rose down in a chair before hovering down to sit beside her. While everyone ate, Rose was curiously hanging around Brutal, trying to find out more about him. She reached up and tugged on his shirt to get his attention. Brutal glanced down to the small girl in the middle of eating a large portion of pancakes and eggs.

“What?” Brutal asked, taking a napkin from the center of the table.

“Where are you from?” Rose asked, Chaos knew that now that he’s responded he will never get away from the questions about him.

“Australia,” Brutal said bluntly, taking another bite of his food.

“Do you kill people?” Everyone went silent for a moment, worried she already knew about Brutal. Then again his name didn’t help in this current situation.

“Yep,” Brutal said so nonchalantly that one could be forgiven for thinking he was guilty of only some trivial wrongdoing.

“Why?” Chaos was about ready to either leave the room or smash her head into the table. Pancakes was preventing either of them from happening however. Rose seemed genuinely curious of Brutal still instead of fearful of him.

“I just do,” Brutal said with a shrug, wiping his hands with a napkin.

“He’s tried to kill me!” Jester piped up, grinning, “The only reason he can’t is because my body isn’t actually made of flesh like everyone else. The only way to really hurt me is to break my artifact,”

“Can we not give my niece nightmares!?” Chaos barked slightly angry at the two for being so nonchalant about it, “She’s not like us, she’s full human,” That’s when Rose looked to Chaos.

“What do you mean Aunt Lily?” She sighed, she didn’t know how to explain it to her. Spyper raised a hand, gesturing to Chaos to let him explain.

“We’re what are known as Freaks. We have powers and abilities that make us not entirely human. A lot of us have superhuman strength,” Spyper started, looking to Brutal, “Some of us have a heightened knack for inventing,” Spyper looked to Intelligent Heavy, “Some of us can alter the very fabric of reality,” Spyper looked to Count Jester, “Some of us have extremely powerful magic,” Spyper looked to Chaos, “And some of us can teleport,” Spyper pointed to himself.

“That’s my gimmick to Spyper,” Chaos intervened.

“What about him?” Rose looked to Pancakes.

“I’m unique, got quite a few powers. Including summoning weapons out of thin air-”

“Most of us can do that,” Chaos elbowed him in his side.

“He can go inside a can and jump around with it!” Jester added, “I can do something similar, but I can’t move my artifact around when I’m in it,” Rose seemed interested to see what all the others could do.

That’s when the phone started to ring. Chaos answered it and moved into another room.

“Can you guys show me some of your abilities?” She looked to everyone else around. Pancakes shrugged, he didn’t see any harm in it. Pancakes started by going into his can and hopping onto the table.

“See? I can move around in this thing,” He said as he bounced around the table. Intelligent Heavy was stacking forks, spoons, and knives to make a small tower.

“If I had actual mechanical parts, I could make something much more impressive,” He said, pulling his hands away from the utensil tower. Spyper pushed his chair out and got up.

“Watch this,” He grinned. His body began to shimmer, and Rose went wide eyed when his form became so translucent that she could see straight through him. Then with a loud hiss, Spyper disappeared. Rose gasped and looked around, standing up in her chair. Another hiss came from behind her, and Spyper tapped her arm, having teleported right behind her. She started to giggle as she came to realize exactly what was going on.

“Show off,” Ass Pancakes groaned coming out of his can of Bonk.

“Oh come on show us what else ya got!” Brutal laughed, smacking Pancakes arm with the back of his hand. Pancakes summoned his warhammer not a second later.

“With pleasure,” He screamed and directed an attack at Brutal. Intelligent Heavy went over to Spyper who now had Rose in his arms.

“This could get a little ugly.” Spyper commented as Pancakes missed hitting Brutal, there was about to be a fight for sure, at least everyone got some food in their system before this. Brutal rolled out of the way.

“‘I’ve been itching for a fight since mornin’!” Brutal cackled, pulling his Tribalman's Shiv out of nowhere and charging Ass Pancakes. Before the two could really cause damage a purple cloud of particles appeared and the mass inside punched Brutal directly in the jaw, making him stagger backwards. Brutal has plenty of brute strength, but not much physical toughness.

“Not in front of my niece!” Chaos rolled her arm before angrily glaring at Pancakes. His warhammer disappeared and he retreated to his can and went to hide on a high shelf, “Anyways,” She started, “Slight change in plans for today. My team found Nightmare Medic’s lair. Apparently a group of BLU’s have gone off the grid and that’s where they are. They requested backup. I know it’s only been 6 months since the whole Grave deal but you guys mind helping out?” She asked the rest in the group.

“What about Rose? You don’t plan on taking her with to take on Nightmare Medic, right?” Spyper asked with concern in his voice.

“No, god no. I’m gonna leave someone here I know can protect her from Wolves Bane while we’re out,” She explained looking to Brutal.

“Him? Are you sure that’s a good idea? You do know who Brutal is right?” Intelligent Heavy asked calmly, questioning her thought process. Brutal glared at him but shrugged either way.

“What about Jester?” Brutal said, craning his head up to look at the flying Freak, “They’re pretty good with kids,”

“Jester was also the reason we were even able to have a chance against Grave in the first place,” Intelligent Heavy protested, standing up, “They were the one able to reverse the effects of Termination, they were the one that came up with the plan to even kill Grave in the first place, they were the one able to see inside his mansion. They had the magic and firepower we needed to take Grave down. If anyone’s going with us, it’s them. If Jester can defeat Grave, they can defeat Nightmare Medic,”

“Then who the Hell is staying behind?” Brutal asked indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“I could if Brutal is too much of a pussy to stay behind,” Ass Pancakes stated getting down from the shelf, promptly being smacked upside the head by Brutal himself. He was shocked by the fact that it happened so quickly, not with an immediate retort. He sulked while Jester snickered at him.

“I would do anything if it meant I could go back to massacring blokes like you,” Brutal snapped. He stormed off to the laundry room to fetch his clothes, “I’m comin’ with ya! I ain’t stayin’ around here and lettin’ you have all the fun,”

“I’ll let you show Rose how to throw a knife properly if you stay,” Chaos called out, hoping to persuade the murder happy Freak. She knew that if it worked she’d regret it but at least then she’d have Pancakes with her to help rationalize out a plan. Then again, Brutal was the one with the strength to pose a physical threat to Nightmare Medics host. Whether or not he could actually win in a fight was a different story however.

Brutal came back in his usual black and red attire, brushing himself off.

“Nope, i’m coming with ya. I’ll probably get thrown around a lot because that seems to be a running thing with me these past six months, but I’m not letting you have all the fun,”

“Looks like your stuck with Rose then Pancakes,” Chaos jested, patting his shoulder. He just shrugged.

“Oh well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t get too hurt out there,” Pancakes said, shrugging off the gesture. “But fuck you,” he looked at Brutal with anger in his eyes. Brutal clenched his fists and stepped toward the smaller Freak.

“I could break you like a motherfuckin’ twig right now-”

“Alright that’s enough!” Jester shouted, punctuating their annoyance by slamming their fist onto the table, a surge of blue energy sparking up from them, shoving Pancakes and Brutal away from each other. Everyone stared at the Freak, a bit taken aback by their sudden outburst. Yellow sparks flew off of their body for a moment and their cape and the ends of their hat shook on an invisible wind. Jester took a deep breath and raised their hands to either side of their head before angling their hands towards Pancakes and Brutal, as if to shout something at them. Spyper looked at the child in his arms, she had fallen asleep at some point during the arguments.

“You three are lucky the child is currently asleep,” Spyper huffed before handing her off to Pancakes. He brushed himself off and fixed his hat.

“I’ll go start the van,” He said, “We can stop by a scrapyard so you can grab whatever you need to make something that could help us along the way,” Spyper said to Intelligent Heavy.

“You guys can catch up. I’m teleporting there. I’ll take Mr. Stab first ask questions later here with me,” Chaos said, grabbing her sword. She stepped over to Brutal and clapped her hand over the Freaks shoulder, concentrating on the location that her team had described. She craned her head to Jester and Pancakes, who were now the only other people in the kitchen.

“Both of you be careful, I’ll see you there Jester.” with that her and Brutal were gone in a puff of purple flecks.

“Welp, since you’re gonna be the only one here, lemme give you a parting gift,” Jester said, pulling off their hat and reaching into it like a magician, their hair puffing up in the process. They pulled out a small cube and handed it to Pancakes and placed their hat back on their head.

“What’s dis?” He looked at it, confused. Out of all things to be given, some random cube was Jesters thing. He swore he would never be able to grasp their mindset.

“Twist the top,” Jester snickered. Pancakes sighed. He swore to God, if this was another one of Jesters tricks… He tentatively opened it and peeked in. There was a bright orb inside it that glowed blue.

“It’s a little pocket of my own powers!” Jester cheered, “If you come across a problem that needs some finessing, just open that up and the magic will take care of everything else,” Jester explained.

“Huh, thanks Jester!” Pancakes closed it and put it in his bag, “Good luck against Nightmare Medic. Heard he’s pretty close in power to Grave,” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Or is Grave close in power to Nightmare?” Jester asked with a doofy grin. Pancakes sighed and walked into the other room, “Who put you on the planet?” Jester scoffed.

“My Momma,” He responded while putting the sleepy Rose on the couch.

“Well, anyways, I’m off!” Jester waved and turned into a cloud of blue smoke and darted off outside. Pancakes heard an engine start up, and he peered through a set of windows, watching a van take off into the sky with Jester flying along beside it. He hated that he wasn’t going to be able to see the action first hand but then again, he’d rather not nearly die.

***

Wolves Bane watched as Spypers van took off with Jester flying right beside it. There was no way he could resist trying to mess up Chaos’ base while she was gone. Slipping into the underbrush, he snuck up to the house and peered through a window, watching Ass Pancakes lounging around the living room scrolling through TV channels, Rose was asleep on the couch.

“This couldn’t be any easier.” Wolves Bane smirked to himself. He grabbed the clasps of the window and pulled up, but the window didn’t budge. He then kneeled to his shadow in defeat, “Hey Knenus, mind getting in there to unlock the window?” He asked her, they rolled her eyes.

“Just get your shadow in there and I’ll take care of the rest., She sighed. He raised up just enough to get his shadow casting into the living room. The shadow shimmered and shook for a moment, and the latch holding the window came loose. Wolves Bane carefully opened the window and started to crawl through with a slight crash. He scrambled to get up and right whatever it was he had knocked over.

“What the hell was that?” Pancakes called from the living room. Wolves Bane scrambled to a hiding spot, if he was caught there was a very high possibility he’d never be able to get back in. Pancakes walked into the kitchen and looked around. He turned his attention to an overturned potted plant. He sauntered over to it and placed it back on it’s table, peering around the curtains near the window to check for anyone who was hiding. He frowned and closed the window, latching it again before returning to the living room.

Walking into the room, Pancakes found that Rose was gone from her spot, leaving a small indention in the blankets. Pancakes ran over to the couch and looked around.

“Oh fuck I don’t need this shit now,” He groaned, sprinting off to Rose’s room.

Wolves Bane peered from behind the sofa, Rose strapped to his back, still fast asleep. Wolves Bane looked to where Pancakes had run off to and back towards the front door. He booked it from his hiding place and violently jiggled the door to try and unlock it, waking up his passenger.

“PANCAKES!” She screamed from the living room, now kicking to wrench herself free. Wolves Bane tried to cover her mouth, but he was too slow. Pancakes came crashing through to the living room, his warhammer in hand.

“HEY!!” Pancakes shouted, making Wolves Bane jump. The Freak stared at him for several seconds before Wolves Bane throw open the door and made a wild break for it towards the woods. Pancakes sprinted after him, waving his warhammer around with frenzied wrath.

“HEY!! BITCH GET BACK HERE!” Pancakes screamed, lunging at the other Freak.

“Nice try Pancakes! I’m off!” He spread his wings open ready to fly off.

“No you’re not,” A woman’s voice called from behind a tree. Not a second later a square shovel came out of nowhere and smacked Wolves Bane directly in the face with a solid whack. Rose was sent flying off his back as he fell backwards. Pancakes rushed forwards and caught Rose just before she hit the ground. Wolves Bane on the other hand was sent sprawling to the dirt, knocked out cold. That’s when Roseflame came out from the shadows.

“Troubles?” She asked stepping over the knocked out demonic freak.

“Fucker came into the base and tried to kidnap her,” Pancakes said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, seems like the kinda low life to do that, You okay Rose?” She looked to the child in Pancakes arms.

“N-no...” She strained, starting to cry as the shock began setting in. Pancakes looked down at the crying child and bit his lip, unsure of what to do to calm her down. Then a lightbulb went off in his head. He slid his hand into his bag and felt around for the cube that Jester had given him. Pulling it out, he twisted the top off and let the magic do its work. A few streaks of sparkly blue and yellow magic twisted its way out from the orb, dancing around in the air in a spiral, slowly floating over to Rose. Pancakes and Roseflame watched as the magic condensed and puffed into a miniature, translucent version of Count Jester. The Jester clone came up to Rose and waved to get her attention. It raised its hands up and before their very eyes a stuffed bunny plush puffed into existence with a soft pop in the air. The tiny Jester handed the plush-which was larger than it-to Rose. Rose smiled and took the bunny, holding it to her face as she slowly stopped crying. The tiny Jester gave a slight bow before disassembling back into strands of magic that blinked out of existence.

“Now that’s Grade A magic,” Roseflame smiled as Rose fell back asleep in Pancakes arms. Pancakes clipped the cube close again and grinned at it.

“Jesters magic really can do anything huh? If only it wasn’t so damn inconsistent,” Pancakes remarked.

“It’s Count Jester we’re talking about, I only heard about them until recently and everything points to them being a bit beyond all of us in the crazy side,” Roseflame chuckled as she looked to Wolves Bane behind them. He was slowly getting back up, took him a while to even become conscious, “You got him or should I?” She asked, getting her bat out.

“Nah I got ‘em” Pancakes said. He handed Rose back to Roseflame and summoned his warhammer and began marching towards the gangly Freak, “Just stay down buddy this will only take a second. FORE!!” Pancakes drew his warhammer back and swung with enough force to send the Freak flying skyhigh off in the other direction. Pancakes put a hand over his eyes to keep the sun out as he watched Wolves Bane go, “Damn, I never get that much air,” Pancakes snickered.

“Hole in one if he lands in a trash can,” Roseflame betted, walking over while keeping an eye on the silhouette in the distance.

“Either that or lands right in front of one of the other Freaks. How much ya wanna bet if he comes across Painis or Cakehole?” Pancakes joked, his warhammer disappearing.

“20 he lands in trash, 40 He lands in front of Painis, 60 he lands in front of Cakehole, You owe me 80 he lands ass up,” Roseflame had her wallet on hand.

“How much for all four?”

“Add it up, I’d owe you 200,” She cou;dn’t see where he was thanks to the trees, “Think the mini jester can help out with this little bet?” She asked her partner in crime.

“Um…I don’t really know how much power Jester put in this thing, but I can try,” Pancakes said. He took out the cube again and twisted the top off. The orb inside glowed for a moment and the magical strands danced their way out and collided together to make another mini Jester, this one pink and orange. It grinned and turned to the trees and raised its hands to them. With a series of booming snaps, the trees shook and trembled and bent out of the way to give a clear view of where Wolves Bane would be landing. At the same time, two pairs of binoculars popped into existence right in front of Roseflame and Pancakes. The pair took their binoculars and looked forward.

“Thanks Jester,” Roseflame smiled to the mini Jester. The tiny replica smiled and bowed again, it’s small form deconstructing back into pure magic as it disappeared like the first tiny Jester, “I should get to know them a bit more, they seem like a nice person,” Roseflame thought aloud. She re-adjusted the napping Rose with her left arm while using her right to look through the binoculars.

“Yeah, they’re real nice. To be honest the only other Freak I can think of that’s even close to Jester in that way is Polite,” Pancakes remarked, watching Wolves Bane as he began hurtling to earth. Both watched in a mixture of anticipation and worry.

He landed ass up in a trashcan. It tipped over and Wolves Bane came tumbling out, right in front of two Freaks who had been walking by. From the looks of it, they were neither Painis nor Cakehole, but two other completely different Freaks.

“Uh...Looks like he landed in front of Soupcan and....a BLU Vagineer, I think?” Pancakes queried. He snickered, “You owe me 100 bucks though,” Pancakes laughed. Roseflame groaned, handing Rose back to him to get out her wallet.

“Here, take your money like the bitch you are,” She took out one hundred dollars worth of twenties and stuck it in his shirt.

‘-EY! I have pockets! And a bag!” Pancakes protested struggling to both hold Rose and get the money out of his shirt. She snickered as she watched him struggle. After she had her fun for a second she took the money and moved it to his bag.

“I ain’t getting close to your thing to put it there,” She said, pointing to his pockets, “Anyways, we should probably head back to the base. A lot of people have tried to get the stuff in there from what I heard,” Roseflame suggested, walking back to said base.

#Chaos Kin #Ass Pancakes #Christian Brutal Sniper #Count Jester #Roseflame #Freak Fortress #Story post #Long Post #Spyper #Intelligent Heavy #Wolves Bane #Chaotic Adventures in Babysitting

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princesweetpea · 5 years

Photo

I Found | Sweet Pea x Aurora Jones (oc)

All Chapters Here

Chapter: Nine

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of gore, language

READ IT ON AO3

“Aurora.”

“Reginald.” Rory acknowledged the boy plainly as he moved to stand next to her. He offered her a flask that he pulled from beneath his royal blue and gold embroidered velvet cape. He looked like a prince – well, he was dressed like one, at least. She shook her head from side to side before taking a sip of her punch.

“Suit yourself,” he grinned, tipping the open container into his own goblet. “So, who is your escort tonight?” The small talk felt unnatural between the pair.

“You’re looking at her.” She said curtly. Part of her still yearned for her ex-boyfriend’s touch, but she knew she had been down that path too many times before.

“Couldn’t get a date?”

“I didn’t want one,” she rolled her eyes at his mocking tone. “My choice of date, if I wanted one, is accompanying your choice of date tonight.” He nodded slowly, his eyes landing on Veronica and Archie across the gym. They were smiling and laughing as they slow danced in each other’s arms.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He stated honestly, changing the subject as he ran his fingers gently down her white, gold embellished sleeve. She felt her cheeks heat up.

“Thank you.” She replied quietly. Her eyes scanned the room once more, but she didn’t know what – or who – she was looking for.

“Want to dance?” Reggie asked, wincing after the threw the rest of the drink back. She snorted, shooting him a quizzical glance. “Come on, just one dance. I promise that I won’t try to take you home… this time.” He chuckled as he set her goblet on the table and stretched out his elbow toward her. She felt herself staring at his handsome features a little too long. She blinked her impure thoughts out of her head before taking his arm. He led her to the middle of the dance floor, and she felt Veronica’s eyes on them. She was frowning, and Archie was oblivious, gazing longingly at his dance partner.

“Always have to be the center of attention, don’t you?” Rory sighed, giving him her best fake smile.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he joked, pulling her into him. He smells heavenly. She frowned as he expertly maneuvered her around the dance floor. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“I do.” He pulled her flush against him as he dodged another couple that were not as skilled as they were. He mumbled an apology to her for the sudden movement as he glared at the boy, who instantly moved him and his partner the other direction. Reggie was a gentleman… sometimes.

“Do you ever wish things had worked out between us?” Rory inquired. She didn’t want to be with him – she was pretty sure, at least – but the question had been burning in her mind during the last several months. Does he regret the things he did? Was he sorry for the pain he caused? Did he even care at all?

“I think about it sometimes,” Reggie sighed, spinning her out and then back into him. “But no, I don’t think I do,” Ouch. She raised her eyebrows at him in shock. “I’m like… I’m like a wild horse. I can’t be tied down.”

“Except for Princess Veronica Lodge.” She let out an bitter laugh. He shrugged, his eyes searching the gym to find the raven-haired girl again.

“But listen, no hard feelings, okay? You were a lot of fun,” he smirked. “Maybe we could fool around every once in a while,” Rory’s hand flew up to Reggie’s cheek. A few nearby students gawked at the pair and started whispering to one another. “What the fuck, Rory!?”

“Go disappoint the next girl, Reggie. I’m busy.” Rory managed in a raspy voice as tears stung her eyes. When she whipped around, she could have sworn she saw Sweet Pea staring back at her, but she figured that it was just her blurred vision, for when she blinked away her tears he was nowhere to be seen. Plus, he’d expressed his disdain for the mere idea of prom a few days prior. She walked to grab a new goblet of punch, not trusting her fellow students enough to find her old one that she’d left on a random table earlier. She stood near the punch bowl and made small talk with a few of her classmates, complimenting their medieval costumes and talking about the prom after parties, assuring her that she was invited to all of them, of course. Eventually, they’d walked out to the dance floor, leaving her standing alone.

For the third time since she’d been standing at the refreshment table, she felt a boy behind her slide his hand up the backside of her dress to brush against her ass, and she refused to ignore it any longer. She now knew for sure that it wasn’t an accident. Rory dug her hand into her satchel, wrapping her hand around a cool metal object and pulling it out.

“Touch me again and you’ll lose your hand.” Rory spun around to face him, flicking out the switchblade that Jughead gave her after his recent encounter with the gargoyles. She surprised herself with her own actions, but stood her ground, hoping that the chaperones couldn’t see the weapon in her hand. This will for sure get me expelled, what am I doing!? She recognized the boy from the football team.

“If you didn’t want anyone to touch you, you shouldn’t have worn something so fitted, you Serpent slut. You’ve been hanging around them an awful lot lately.” The boy sniggered. He reeked of alcohol, which made her eye his goblet inquisitively. In truth, Rory’s dress wasn’t revealing in the slightest.

“I’m not a Serpent.” Rory said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Sweet Pea had the boy against the brick of the gym with his forearm pressed against the boy’s windpipe, securing him to the wall. So, he was here. Where did he even come from?

“Would you like to lose your tongue as well?” Sweet Pea said lowly, but loud enough for her to hear over the music. “You better get out of here before I make good on my threat, Bulldog.” The boy drunkenly stumbled off, mumbling curses under his breath. Sweet Pea kept his eyes on him as he walked coolly toward Rory.

“Rogue,” She acknowledged him with a raised brow. He was dressed in black from head to toe, the fabrics a mixture of leather and faux furs. He was wearing boots that were slightly ‘dressier’ than his normal, worn pair. “I had that taken care of, Jon Snow.”

“Bard,” He acknowledged her back. “It didn’t look like it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Bard?”

“Yeah, you know… you play music.” He shrugged, absentmindedly scanning the crowd.

“I thought prom was stupid? Especially this one.”

He shrugged again. “Something felt… weird. I had to come, just to keep watch.”

Fangs appeared at their side, and he clapped a hand onto Sweet Pea’s shoulder. “Well, look who showed up to a school function!”

“Well, look who’s not joined at the hip of his new Farmie boyfriend.” Sweet Pea scoffed bitterly, avoiding Fang’s eyes.

“Dude…”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, dude. I haven’t seen you outside of this school for weeks. What, no time for the Serpents anymore? No time for your best friend? You were supposed to be undercover. Instead, you let yourself be brainwashed by the kooks.” Rory felt incredibly awkward standing there, but didn’t want to leave Sweet Pea alone with Fangs. He seemed really hurt.

“You’d understand if you came by sometime… If you listened what Edgar has to say.” Fangs sighed, but smiled at him hopefully.

“Even if I wanted to, Fangs, I’m not weak-minded enough to fall for that crap.” Sweet Pea spat, finally facing his best friend. He was trying his best to hurt Fangs’ feelings, and it was obvious.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were more open-minded, brother.” Fangs smiled weakly, patting his counterpart on the back before starting to walk away. After a couple of steps, he looked over his shoulder. “You look amazing, Rory.”

“Thank you, Fangs,” She gave him a small smile, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. He nodded and made his way back to Kevin. Sweet Pea’s body stiffened as his narrowed eyes fixated on the retreating boy. “What the hell was that, Sweet Pea?”

“You look nice.” Sweet Pea rushed in a grumble.

“Thank you – now answer the question.”

“He ditched me, and the rest of the Serpents, for the Farm. End of story.”

“But –”

“I said end of story.” He hissed.

“Good evening, Riverdale Renaissance Revelers! At long last, it’s time to announce this year’s Court. And the winner of prom queen is… Betty Cooper!” The school’s secretary chimed into the microphone. Rory beamed, feeling ecstatic for her friend, as she clapped and scanned the room for the blonde. “Is Betty here?”

Rory’s attention shifted to Jughead, who was suddenly beside them. “Have you seen Betty? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom. I can go check?” He nodded quickly, his eyes darting around the room nervously. “Relax, Jughead, she’s probably getting some air. I’ll go check the ladies’ room.”

The hall was eerily quiet, and Rory was surprised that there weren’t couples groping each other in the shadowed corners. She pushed open the door to the bathroom, and was met with the walls covered in red marker, the same phrase repeated:

Flip For Your Fate.

On one of the sinks sat two goblets of blue liquid and a coin.

“Betty?” Rory’s voice echoed with the acoustics of the bathroom. She saw heels in the gap of the bottom of a stall at the far end of the bathroom. “Betty, it’s Rory. Are you okay?” She leaned against the stall door slightly, and it pushed open. “Betty –”

That’s not Betty.

Who is that?

There’s blood everywhere.

Where is the rest of her face?

Sweet Pea burst into the bathroom. She hadn’t realized that she’d been screaming. He pulled her into him, her tears soaking the front of his cloak. He cradled her head with his large hand.

“Don’t look, Rory, don’t look.”

_______________________________________

They didn’t speak the entire ride to Jughead’s house. Rory had texted Mambo to grab some clothes for the both of them and to meet her there. The Black Hood was back, and no one was safe. She couldn’t risk herself or her little brother by being alone in Sunnyside Trailer Park, no matter how tough Mambo insisted that he was. FP was still out doing his sheriff duties when they arrived; Mambo sat in the recliner, staring blankly into the fire. Betty and Jughead were cuddled up on the couch. He whispered sweet nothings and reassurances into her ear as he stroked her hair while she cried into his chest. He met Sweet Pea’s eyes when he and Rory entered, and they simply nodded at each other.

Rory mindlessly made her way to the guest room, exhausted from her wailing. The images kept flashing through her head. Sweet Pea was on her heels, watching her every move carefully. He sat on the bed when she stepped into the en suite and closed the door behind her before starting the shower. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the steamy water, but she had to get out when it started running cold. When she exited in only a towel, Sweet Pea was still there, his hands folded on his lap as he stared at the ground. His cloak was on the floor and he was just left in his black dress pants and his undershirt. His eyes met hers, and they were full of concern.

“Do… Would you want to talk about it?” She shook her head rapidly, choking back a sob. He nodded, standing slowly. “I’ll let you rest.” He walked toward the door.

“Sweet Pea…” She choked. He quickly spun on his heel. “Will you please stay with me tonight? I can’t be by myself.”

She dropped the towel to the floor, completely exposing herself to him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have the energy to shield herself or to put on pajamas. He nodded slowly as he watched her climb under the covers. He pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his pants down his legs before getting under the comforter next to her. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before pulling her into his side as he traced circles on her bare back with his thumb, and she instantly fell asleep.

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