#Become swamp liquid and disappear

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Hark! I submit an official request for Raphael and someone (dealer’s choice) getting hit with the old Sex Pollen. It could be a trick by Haarlep or a plant/mushroom releasing pollen/spores in Faerûn during one of his visits. I leave circumstances to your brilliant imagination.

I love the sex pollen trope and would love to see you write it :) As always, feel free to make him or both of them as tame or unhinged as you like! Thank you! 💕

❤️

Raph gets pollened ☺️

Read on AO3

-

There was a lot of strange stuff to find laying about in the ruins of Moonrise Towers. Most of it caked in dirt, dust, and other unidentifiable substances. The kleptomaniac in Tav had her poking around, putting her mitts on everything before those little tiefling gobshites stripped the place bare.

She was enamoured by something: a big round vial that contained some viscous liquid which, when Tav cleaned the bottle a little, glowed an ominous dark purple. The stopper was wedged too tight to open. It had been fermenting for a long, long time. Tav had discovered the bottle in a box with a decrepit occult codex of some kind and a burned out incense holder. Bizarre findings that warranted further investigation – after she’d raided everything else of value, of course.

“Well, well. Where should I find the mouse but scurrying about in a ruined old attic? Apt.”

“Shit!”

Tav nearly leapt out of her skin. The bottle went flying, shattering on the ground. A thin, noxious violet gas began to seep from its shattered corpse. The smell was pungent, stomach-churning; like rotten eggs and swamp water. Tav coughed and gagged, eyes wet, glaring at the devil who’d startled her so badly. He stood there innocently, unassuming, a single eyebrow raised at her display of drama. So much for finding out what that potion did.

“Do you enjoy getting the jump on people, devil?” She said waspishly, moving further away from the mess. “Gods, that stinks.”

“Sometimes. Mortals are much more likely to agree to certain things when they’re frightened,” Raphael purred. He tilted his head, taking a small whiff of the gas. “Hmm…it smells like peaches to me.”

Peaches, sure. “What do you want?” Tav crossed her arms. Never turn your back on a devil. Especially this one.

“Merely to see why my favourite future client isn’t celebrating with the rest of her merry band,” said Raphael. Tav noticed he was surreptitiously inhaling deeper sniffs of the potion, like a dog that had caught an interesting scent on the wind. He may not have realised he was doing it. “After all, you freed the angel. You struck down the avatar of a God. One would think a hero of such calibre would at least raise a glass or two in victory, no?”

“I don’t like crowds,” muttered Tav, keenly aware he was mocking her. He was always mocking her. Raphael shifted his feet, coming just a bit closer.

“Yes, I know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I know a lot about you, Tav. I know the kinds of people you used to do business with before the mindflayers took you. I know the kind of work you did. I know where you came from, and where you were going before all of this.”

“What?” Tav stared at him, aghast. A mix of horror and, inexplicably, intrigue squirmed in her belly. How did he know these things? Why did he know these things? Something was off, though. Raphael seemed, for a brief moment, as shocked by his words as she.

“All that is to say…” He adjusted his collar. Loosened it. “Hells. Why is it so damn warm all of a sudden?”

In a crumbling tower, battered by the chilling miasma of the shadow curse, the only warmth came from the Infernal himself. “It’s cold up here,” Tav said slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down Raphael’s temple in contrast. “Are…you okay?”

“What a stupid question,” the devil snapped. He was becoming flustered, a fetching flush spreading across his harsh cheeks and the bridge of his handsome nose. “I must return to the Hells. Goodbye.”

He clicked his fingers, intending to disappear in a burst of hellfire as usual, but nothing happened. A mere sputtering of sparks from his fingertips fluttered and died. Outraged, Raphael clicked them again, harder, as Tav watched with mounting anxiety. No portal opened. The devil went nowhere.

“Foolish little bint,” he snarled at her. Revealed his pointed canines when he sneered. Tav saw his pupils were rapidly expanding, consuming the sweet brown of his human irises. “What was in that bottle you dropped?”

“I don’t know,” Tav bit back. Always aggressive when she felt cornered. “And you’re the reason I dropped it in the first place. Maybe this will teach you to stop needlessly scaring people, though I bloody doubt it.”

“If you don’t watch your tongue when you speak to me, I’ll pluck it out of your filthy mouth,” Raphael threatened, low and throatily. He tugged his collar open completely, revealing his neck and some teasing wisps of chest hair.

“Oh I see, the devil’s feeling a bit poorly so he finally shows his true colours,” crooned Tav. “It’s about time. I was getting tired of your gentleman act, you know.”

“Ah…to have your skin hanging on a hook in my foyer would be such a delight…” Rumbled the devil, almost absently. He began to unfasten the buttons of his jacket.

“What are you doing?!” Barked Tav. He didn’t answer. Tossed his coat aside and moved onto the buttons of his fancy white shirt. It was damp with sweat – and this was when Tav noticed the bulge between Raphael’s legs. His cock, hard and proud, strained in the fabric of his trousers. A hot spike of desire shot through Tav’s body. “Oh, shit…”

The potion must have been some kind of demented aphrodisiac, made potent enough over time that just a few inhales was all it took. It must’ve been pretty strong indeed if Raphael was crumbling under its influence so fast. Except it wasn’t affecting Tav. She could admit – only to herself – that her tingles of arousal looking at Raphael’s big, deft, tawny hands work the small buttons of his clothes, at the glistening, hairy skin of his chest as he opened his shirt, at his puffy dark nipples, at the trail of fuzz going down his soft middle to vanish below his belt, at the outline of his erection, at the wet spot its leaking head made on his trousers…they were on Tav alone. She’d been attracted to the smarmy devil from the start.

Figuring all this out, Tav had one thing to consider as Raphael reached for his belt: what did she do?

Indulge, of course. An opportunity like this only appeared once in a lifetime. A street cat like Tav knew it better than most.

So she bit her lip, breath baited, as Raphael freed his cock and balls, both fat with need. Ogled as he furiously, shamelessly, rubbed his prick, squeezed its swollen sticky dark pink head, his tight scrotum bouncing with the force, staring right at her as he did. Sighed when he came in moments, grunting, cum spilling on the ground, all over his knuckles, everywhere. His expression was stormy, devoid of relief or rapture, his cock refusing to soften.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed even as he milked more cum from himself in oozing pearls that lazily trickled between his glans, teeth bared in frustration. “It’s not enough.”

He looked furious, frantic, frayed, and so, so fuckable.

“Come here, then,” said Tav, distantly aware of how breathy she sounded, “let’s try something else.”

He was on her in a second. A waiting predator pouncing on its prey. Tav could barely gasp before he was swallowing her mouth in harsh, biting kisses, one hand fisting the hair at the back of her head, the other holding her hip with bruising strength. Tav greedily put her hands all over him, yanking his silky too-perfect hair, scratching his slick chest and stomach, crushing handfuls of his pliant backside. He was like a furnace, radiating stifling heat. He smelled like cherries and musky sweat. So human, but for the hint of sulphur he simply couldn’t hide. His tongue tasted like wine and fire when he forced it into her mouth, hungrily licking behind her teeth. He was a man unravelling, so much desire pressed beneath the surface just waiting for an excuse like this to burst free, and Tav wanted to see it all.

“Wretch,” Raphael spat when they broke apart. The ribbons of saliva connecting their lips were tinged red. He’d bitten her bloody. “Invading my thoughts…my dreams…and now my body…”

“Your fault,” Tav retorted, crying out when he jerked her head back, rolling his aching prick against her clothed sex.

“Inside,” he growled, losing coherence, “need to be inside…”

He manhandled her, pushing her onto a nearby broken desk. With one hand, and in one yank, he pulled her trousers and smallclothes down to her ankles. Tav heard fabric rip but couldn’t find the will to care. The eerie, twisted moonlight coming in from jagged cracks in the stone, the cursed lands’ grotesque long shadows – these things stretched and warped Raphael’s silhouette into the monster he truly was. Tav swore she felt claws, fangs, horns, saw the glint of yellow eyes…but he was still a man, driven and desperate, who pried her thighs open and stuffed her full of his cock, who rocked up on the balls of his feet to get as deep inside her cunt as possible.

“Fuck,” she groaned, raking her fingernails down his back. She was wet and willing, but it had been a while, he’d entered her without preamble, and his cock was thick. He was unforgiving, selfish, searching only for his own pleasure. The stretch, the burn, as he used her, fucking her hard, fast, violent, was hideous and exquisite. She clenched her cunt around his cock and he came immediately, snorting into her ear like a rutting bull. Filled her womb with hot liquid release. She could feel it spurting out of his cock with every throb. He had so much to give, and still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Much to Tav’s delight.

There would be Hell to pay when this was over.

[storymakerdraconians]

A Majestic Submersion

Nestled within its swampy cave hidden beneath a dark lake, wakes up, yawning and stretching its wings. The creature's eyes slowly open, revealing a piercing gaze that scans the familiar confines of its cavern. It rises gracefully, the massive wings extending to their full span, creating an imposing sight within the damp, shadowy space.

The black dragon's scales glisten with a dark sheen as it moves, each step reverberating through the cavern floor. It snorts, releasing a plume of steam, and surveys the surroundings with a keen interest. The lake outside ripples gently, hinting at the dragon's powerful presence beneath the surface.

stirred by an instinctual longing, unfurls its immense wings within the cavern's confines. Each movement echoes through the damp expanse as it maneuvers its colossal body, navigating the rocky terrain with a sinuous grace. The dragon, with eyes gleaming in the dim light, slithers out into the open air, scales glinting ominously.

As it reaches the edge of the dark lake, the creature's movements become deliberate and purposeful. With a powerful stride, the dragon lowers its form, muscles rippling beneath the obsidian scales. The wings fold tightly against its body, allowing for a seamless transition from land to water. And then, with a resounding splash, the Black Dragon disappears beneath the surface, leaving only expanding ripples in its wake.

Driven by an insatiable desire for dominance, undulates and strides forth from the swamp lake n's shadowy depths in water. Its sleek form weaves through the water, a dance of power and ancient majesty. The depth water of lake seems to shudder in acknowledgment of the dragon's presence. At the water's edge, the creature pauses, eyes fixated on the inky abyss of the dark lake.Without warning, the dragon lunges forward, jaws opening wide, revealing rows of gleaming teeth. The colossal wings beat against the water in dive, propelling the creature into a controlled dive. The lake receives its ancient guest with a tumultuous welcome, water cascading and foaming as the Black Dragon disappears into the unknown depths below.

Emerging from the dark depths of the lake, the Black Dragon swims through the flowing currents of the river, water cascading off its obsidian scales. Gradually, it raises its head above the surface, surveying the surroundings with an ancient intelligence. In the distance, a serene scene unfolds—a pair of equines, one resting its head on the other's back. The dragon pauses, observing the peaceful tableau before it.

With a methodical approach, the dragon wades through the shallow stream, water streaming off its immense form. The equines remain oblivious to the looming presence as the dragon's scaled body fully emerges from the river, droplets falling like liquid diamonds. The creature glances around, its predatory instincts sharpening as it seeks potential victims for its primal desires.

Sensing approaching footsteps, the Black Dragon turns its head, spotting a lady with wings on her back and a tail with a pointed tip. Recognizing her as a succubus, the dragon observes as she approaches, bowing before him. "Oh, noble dragon, I bring an offering before you," she declares. The dragon scrutinizes the insolent creature before him, eyes narrowing.

The succubus, undeterred, presents her gift, revealing her bosom. The dragon, with analytical eyes, examines the offering closely, appreciating the gesture.

Intrigued by the succubus's offering, extends its forked tongue to touch her bosom. As the wet touch of its saliva explores the curves, the succubus shivers, whispering in ecstasy as the dragon's tongue glides over her skin. "Oh, dragon, possess me, make me yours," she murmurs, her moans pleading for the dragon to claim her as its own.The Black Dragon forked tongue to delicately touch her bosom. The succubus, reacting to the moist caress, utters breathy whispers in ecstasy. "Oh, dragon,she moans, a fervent plea echoing through the air

Its forked tongue lasciviously licks and teases her body, descending to the region between her legs. The dragon's tongue, with a forked tip, skillfully parts the succubus's intimate folds, the wetness of its saliva enhancing the experience. The succubus convulses in pleasure, her body responding to the dragon's touch with delightful contortions. A blissful smile graces her lips as the forked tongue expertly navigates her sensitive walls.

The succubus, overwhelmed, shudders in orgasmic pleasure as the dragon's saliva moistens her intimate folds.Her body convulses as the dragon's forked tongue pushes inside her, applying pressure to her sensitive walls. Her moans escape loudly, and she breathes heavily in response to the intense sensations.

Playing with the succubus's lips with its forked tongue, the Black Dragon revels in the arching of her body and the melodic moans escaping her. The forked tongue withdraws, leaving her with the evidence of her climax dripping down. Gently, the dragon lifts her, cradling her within the curves of its neck, allowing her to rest after the initial phase of the offering she presented—the gift of her body for the dragon's pleasure.

With the succubus still nestled in repose, the Black Dragon feels the trickle of her essence along the side of its neck. It had offered this space for her to rest, and as she does, one of her hands gently caresses the dark scales of its neck. Simultaneously, she rubs her bosom against the dragon's neck, and the Black Dragon, closing its eyes, savors the affectionate attention she bestows.

The Dragon, overwhelmed by a surge of passion, extends its claws, lifting the succubus from her resting place. As him flipped the back  onto ground, the dragon's foreclaw delicately explores her buttocks, parting the view to both her anus and vagina. The Black Dragon, exposed and captivated, appreciates and becomes aroused by the intimate offering before it.Fueled by a wave of passion, the Black Dragon extends its claws, hoisting the succubus into the air. claw delicately explores the succubus's buttocks.

The succubus arches, trembles as the dragon's forked tongue explores her vaginal lips anew. The claws divide her buttocks, revealing a view above. She turns her head, witnessing the Black Dragon's frontal scales shimmering, its belly contracting with each breath. Between its thighs, a slithole unveils a hidden male member concealed behind the scales, its slit offering an enticing sight. Her head, catching a glimpse of the Black Dragon's frontal scales gleaming in the light, the rise and fall of its belly in sync with its breath. Between 

The dragon's forked tongue skillfully draws the succubus's vaginal slit into its slithole, eliciting shudders and arches of pleasure as she orgasms. The tongue continues its motion, sliding back and forth, exerting pressure against her sensitive walls. The succubus extends her wings, contorting in response to the intense friction, her head turning to catch a glimpse of the dragon's face beneath her over her shoulder. forked tongue deftly pulls the succubus's vaginal slit into its slithole, prompting her to convulse and arch in ecstasy. 

Gazing back over her shoulder, the succubus witnesses the dragon's throbbing slithole, pulsating as a red member emerges from its opening. The phallus snakes across the abdomen, undulating like a living serpent, throbbing and showcasing the pleasure the dragon takes in the offered indulgence.

Once again, the succubus arches her back, throwing her head back as she climaxes. Her hands reach for her ample bosom, caressing and delighting in the sensations emanating from within.arches her back, lifting her head in ecstasy as she reaches orgasm.

Again lifted by the engulfing claws, feels the dragon's grip on both her thighs. Descending, his length snakes, throbbing, making contact with the wet exterior of her vaginal lips. He presses, rubbing and sliding between her buttocks, the dragon's throbbing length and the purring sound from deep within the black dragon resonating in unison. 

Lifted again and  descend by the engulfing claws, the succubus senses the dragon's firm hold pressing down and up on both her thighs. As he descends, his throbbing length snakes up in friction buttok down, making contact with the still-moist exterior of her vaginal lips. He presses, rubbing and sliding between her buttocks, the dragon's throbbing member hard growling sound from.

The succubus, gasping, whispers as the dragon's length rubs and snakes between her buttocks, making contact with the lips of her vagina. She looks into the dragon's eyes, panting, while he reciprocates with low growls and sultry gazes.

Gripping her legs with engulfing claws, the dragon pulls and flexes, rubbing his throbbing length against her, growling in pleasure. Eventually, he draws the succubus in front of him, snaking his member back until the point of contact with his slithole. Pulling her back, he penetrates, parting her slit and creating a passage. The succubus gasps, arching her back and trembling as she feels his member pulling and stretching, dividing her vagina. Her eyes widen, empty, feeling the intense sensation of being stretched and the walls of her vagina tightening to the limit.

Gently, the claws wrapped around her legs pull the succubus forward and backward, a slow, rhythmic massage inside her from the dragon's thick member. It undulates like a serpent, stirring within, causing the succubus to orgasm, her entire body convulsing with wide-eyed intensity.the claws encircling her legs guide the succubus forward and backward, a deliberate and unhurried massage from the dragon's thick member. Undulating like a serpent, it stirs.

Forcing the succubus to start riding his throbbing length, dripping with pre-cum, she gasps with each ascent and descent, feeling her vagina serve as his plaything. She amplifies his pleasure by swaying her hips and allowing herself to be guided by those claws between her thighs. Amidst the growls, she convulses in orgasm, gasping heavily with closed eyes, feeling the relentless pull and penetration from him.

With mighty humps and powerful hip movements, orchestrates a rhythmic and relentless ride for the succubus on his throbbing member, preparing for the climax. His hard length, dripping pre-cum, fills her until the inevitable climax arrives. The succubus, speared and arched, feels the cool liquid inside her, gasping with a wide moan.

The succubus, impaled,hard length spews feeling the cool liquid within her, gasping with a loud moan.

Filling the succubus with his semen, impregnating her, the dragon finally finds satisfaction. He pulls her, forcing her to ride until he stops, and she collapses, exhausted, atop him. Still, his throbbing member continues to release, expanding her belly until it spills out, dribbling down her lips, and her eyes remain closed.

The dragon pulls his offering out from atop her, separating the wetted member dripping with cum. As it exits her vagina, semen continues to spill out, and he places her gently on the ground by the edge of the river.

Resting after the intense and tight pleasure with the succubus, the black dragon sits with his throbbing length touching the ground, still oozing cum. He looks around and spots the equines, still lying close together, resting.

The black dragon is surprised to sense a purple aura glowing. Turning to the side, he sees the succubus's body growing, increasing in size. Wings expand, the skin on her face darkens into scales, and a tail forms with black scales and a purple tip that whips like a whip. Glowing purple hues appear between the scales, and as she tilts her head, a different black dragon stands before him, piercing him with a determined gaze. She declares, "I have sought you for a long time. You will give your seed to me!"

A black dragoness with a purple aura around her scales crawls, never breaking her intense gaze. She moves to the front of his vision, raising her tail high, the furry purple-tipped end forcing me to look at the slit between the scales underneath. She provocatively sways her rear, emitting a sibilant sound between her jaws.

Remain seated, mesmerized, watching her rear sway, his gaze fixated on the scales of her groin, and the alluring slithole provocatively displayed. The sibilant sounds she emits echo in the distance. Meanwhile, his tail snakes up, reaching throbbing length, coiling and jerking off ashis eyes continue to watch, growling in pleasure at the unexpected surprise of encountering another black dragon.

Under the watchful eyes of the dragoness, she rolls onto her back, spreading her legs and exposing her beautiful purple-scaled slit as a gift to me.  The black dragon snake head down, forked tongue licking inside her abdomen, causing her scales to bristle. Descending, he caress her groin with tongue, listening to her distant breath. Snaking my head down, my forked tongue licks inside her scaled slithole splitting, eliciting a bristling of her scales. Descending, he continue to caress her wall vagina with his tongue, attuned to her distant breathing intense

The forked tongue delves deeper into the parted scales of the dragoness's vaginal slit. She emits a growl as she feels these tongue exploring the walls of her vagina, causing her belly to contract and her entire body to writhe.

Continuing the caress, forked tongue explores the dragoness's vaginal walls. One of black dragon foreclaws holds onto her hind leg while my snout presses against her scaled groin. The tongue pushes in and out of the slithole, hearing her distant growls of pleasure and black dragon  own rumbling sounds of satisfaction.

The dragoness's head snakes, growling in pleasure with each pull of my forked tongue into her slithole, exploring the walls within. Then, she attempts to position her head beneath her mate, aiming for his scaled slit, her own forked tongue grooming between the black dragon's groin. Distant sibilant sounds echo from him as he continues with his snout pressed into her virile as thrust forked tongue into region.

These forked tongue caresses beneath the black dragon, pressing the caress into the slithole, pulling it inside until it senses the throbbing and lively dick on the other side. Stimulating it from within, it feels the shaft coming to an erection, expelling her tongue from the slit and onto the throbbing length, now dripping with pre-cum at the edge.

The dragoness's tongue grooms the length beside her, feeling its erection going hard. She invites the crowned head between her jaws, gently pressing and slowly sucking. Meanwhile, the black dragon rumbles in delight, continuing to caress her vaginal walls. Both of them orgasm together, emitting growls of pleasure and love.

In a sensual roar, both dragons orgasm together. The dragoness sucks the throbbing length of the black dragon, while he, in turn, pushes his forked tongue intensely into her compartment. Feeling her intense orgasm, she trembles and rumbles, and he pulls his tongue back inside. He pulls the dragoness, laying her on her side within a pile of gold coins, their draconian love continuing.

The dragoness wraps her forked tongue around the length of the black dragon as her head moves in suction on the throbbing member. The black dragon growls in pleasure and orgasm, his jaws parting to pull the mixed tongue, saliva, and vaginal juice out, roaring loudly in intense pleasure. He growls loudly, his body convulsing within the bed of gold coins, the sounds echoing the contractions of the black dragon's body.

Growling in pleasure, shaking his head from side to side, the black dragon tries to pull his throbbing and hard length out, the coiled forked tongue massaging and squeezing. Meanwhile, the dragoness's maw is in a hard blowjob, and she rumbles in pleasure. Finally allowing the length to slide out of her mouth, she unfurls her tongue, sibilating. The black dragon then pulls her tail beside him, lying on her side, rubbing his throbbed dick in saliva over her scaled slit, feeling the moisture. He lets out a rumbling sound, savoring the sensation.

Shaking his head from side to side  attempts to pull and thrustting his dick  throbbing  massaging over scale rumbling in pleasure allowing the length to slide in of her slithole splitting passage  she unfurls her tongue, sibilating. The black dragon then hold her tail beside onto ground,  lying on her side, rubbing his throbbed dick in saliva over her scaled slithole pressing deep.

Penetrating and pressing, both dragons growl in contact, tongues lolling out, opening their jaws as they go into copulation.

Growling, the black dragon's hips move, pushing the length inside the dragoness's slithole. It contracts as she feels the intensity, sibilating and parting her jaws, arching her body as she senses her vaginal walls pressed against the spiky dick of the dragon, rising and flexing within her.

Humping hard and intense into his dragoness, he growls in pleasure, parting his jaws, shaking his head, and sibilating. He then looks at her face, breathing deeply with each thrust deep and intense.

he black dragon growls, pressing his barbed length deep, scraping against the vaginal walls, making both of them growl and pant. Then, their jaws meet, sliding, forked tongues caressing, and muffled growls locked in a draconic kiss.

The dragoness being penetrated orgasms, lifting her rear with the strength of her legs, embracing the full length inside her to not let go. This causes the black dragon to orgasm, his body trembling, humping hard beneath her.

The black dragon feels his barbed dick being milked inside the vagina, wanting his semen. Finally, he reaches his climax, filling her inside. Then, both unfurl their forked tongues in a long roar of climax.

Exhausted, oozing cum inside her, still with his dick inside, embraced by the dragoness's slithole, milking. Then, both exhausted, they collapse together into the bed of gold coins, the sound of their weight.

Coiled together sleeping.

‘’’’’’’’

In the concealed sanctuary beneath a murky lake, the Black Dragon awakens, stretching its massive wings and revealing a piercing gaze. With sinuous grace, it maneuvers through the cavern, scales glistening ominously. Reaching the water's edge, it seamlessly transitions from land to water, disappearing beneath the surface with a resounding splash. Driven by a desire for dominance, the dragon emerges from the dark lake, its sleek form weaving through the water in a dance of ancient majesty. Fixated on the abyss, it lunges forward, jaws wide, and dives into the tumultuous depths below. Rising from the river, obsidian scales cascading water, the dragon surveys its surroundings with ancient intelligence. ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’

Title: "Awakening of the Black Dragon: A Majestic Submersion"

Alt Texts:

A black dragon stretches its wings in a damp, shadowy cavern beneath a dark lake.

The obsidian scales of the dragon glisten ominously as it moves through the cavern.

The Black Dragon transitions gracefully from land to water, leaving a resounding splash.

The dragon undulates through the water, a dance of power and ancient majesty.

Jaws wide, the dragon lunges forward into a controlled dive, disappearing into the lake.

The Black Dragon emerges from the dark depths, water cascading off its obsidian scales.

The dragon raises its head above the river's surface, surveying its surroundings.

Tags:

Black Dragon

Fantasy Creature

Cavern Exploration

Dragon Awakening

Submersion

Ancient Majesty

Serene Scene

Fantasy Art

Mythical Being

Water Elemental

Keywords:

Black Dragon

Fantasy Awakening

Obsidian Scales

Cavern Exploration

[featherymainffins]

Actually fuck it here's the rest of how it would go but it's a bit of a speedrun because I'd need 5k+ words to do it right:

For a brief moment, her eyes shine bright pink and the scene changes.

Mud coats your legs. The unpleasant opaque liquid makes her thighs disappear. The dark nearly makes her whole body disappear.

That's right, it's dark.

You barely make out the outline of her arms, but the stitches, the stitches radiate a new light. You should know how far they go, how they separate her forearms in perfect halves, how they split her torso like a pig to slaughter, yet this is the first time you properly notice.

"Hey," rings in your ears as her face comes into focus mere inches away from yours, "would you kill me?"

"What?" is all you can manage.

A smile

grin

grimace

laughing maw splits her face in half, just another stitch, except this one is pure black, a darkness to consume all darkness. Her neck bends in an angle not fit for the living.

"Will you not kill me?" her eyebrows squish, forming waves and hills separating them.

Before you can say anything, her nails dig into your arms. A cold liquid reluctantly makes its way to your elbows.

"Come on, will you not kill me? Would you be so kind? My task is over, it is all over...right?" that hole of a mouth spits.

Her eyes widen, two stethoscopes staring at you with intense primal emotions you cannot place. The wider they are, the stronger her grip becomes.

"It is over, therefore it is my time to die. So kill me. Just kill me."

The milliseconds that precede your words feel like centuries. Centuries in a darkness illuminated by nothing but several pieces of thread glowing neon pink.

"Why do I have to do it?" you ask.

At this, Liliana pauses. Her eyes, previously wild and present, stay still. They glaze over as if she was deep in thought or somewhere else.

You aren't sure how it happens or why, but where there was an abyss, there are normal lips again. Dry, chapped and pale but otherwise normal human lips. The eyebrows, too, regain a certain degree of humanity, the waves slowly morphing into much less noticeable curves. Even the darkness around you two turns a hue more appropriate for the night.

Before, you were starting to feel like there was nothing. Nothing but the woman in front of you and the mud below and the fully black sky above. But now it's just dark and if you squint, you can see a few stars in the sky, shining just as bright as your eyes.

The stitches still shine too.

"You do not have to do it," her voice is barely audible and her head hangs low. "If it is unpleasant to you, then do not do it."

Coming back to her senses, her claws remove themselves from your flesh. The liquid beneath your feet splashes as the distance between the two of you increases and the distance between Liliana's hands and arms decreases.

"I can very well simply leave the vessel. Quite the anticlimactic ending of a show though," she cracks a smile. "I was hoping for a proper end. A proper climax before the curtains close."

She turns away for a moment, her eyes looking up towards the sky. The smile stays on but you suspect the meaning behind it is on its way home. Her knees seem to buckle, a slight tremble overcoming the legs, and you consider whether or not you should catch her. Despite appearances, nothing happens.

"When I was but a child, I used to play here. I remember using a twig to draw shapes in the wet ground surrounding the swamp. I imagined myself drowning in the water, sinking to the very bottom, gasping for breath, for air that could never come, dying with my dress flowing around me. It was a truly pleasant day dream."

You don't know what to say to that (you do, but, maybe for the first time in your life, you keep your mouth shut) so you say the only other thing that you can think of: "I didn't know sutures could be that colour."

Her eyes trail to her forearms and chest almost immediately.

"Purple?" she inquires with furrowed eyebrows.

"They're pink, Lillian," you give her a few seconds to digest that. "They're a truly bright fuchsia pink, like some kind of glitter-decorated star stickers you give to children."

"...Oh," is all you get in response, her gaze firmly planted on the Xs on her chest. "Well, do you want to be the star of this show?"

You think about it.

The sky begins to darken once more.

You think about what you want to do and about what you should do. You think about teasing her, asking her who allowed her to die. You think about the possible outcomes of that and decide against it.

It's getting cold. You think about how much colder it could be. You think about your legs and ask yourself if they aren't starting to freeze in the swamp. You think about the murky waters.

"Get out of the water."

"I would prefer to die in it. Aqua vitae and all that, and I am not talking about alcohol right now."

You think about the lack of a weapon. About how her eyes reflect the sky - empty and still, not dead but not alive. You think about the radioactive glow of the coating of her fresh-yet-old wounds.

"I've always preferred 'Per aspera ad astra'. Hand me a sharp rock," you all but bark.

She shoots you a look. For a brief moment. For a moment that cannot be longer than a second and that can definitely be shorter. For a fraction of the click of a watch, the way she moves her body, the way she looks at you, the way her facial muscles twitch suggest she has realised something. But then...then it's gone.

The next thing you know, there's a rock in your hand.

The sky is a void with nothing in it. The swamp is an opaque abyss of static unlife. Despite standing right before Liliana, you would not be able to see a single hair on her head were it not for those threads, now the sole source of light. They form a constellation whose only mission is to shine brighter than the moon or the sun. The light overpowers her blue skin, coating her in the colour of roses. Or blood before a boy could wear the real colour of blood.

And then the curtain closes. The narrative ends. Ophelia has drowned, Eurydice will never see the light of day, Niobe has died. The curtain closes on the stage.

Realised Liliana is so funny for real because in a true inversion fashion she wants to die so so bad.

In the fangame you'd probably have to spend an unimaginable amount of time convincing a certain guy that nothing lasts forever and that it's better for him to accept peace and move on.

You'd have to convince Liliana "I'm a shield and Aesop's turtle" not to off herself. I am convinced that in AU AU AU, as far as the endings of the equivalent of the second installment go, she'd just...die in the evil endings. The little montages you get are whimsical and meme-y (well except for that one plot relevant ending). Well hers wouldn't be.

They'd start like that at first. A little retreat to a lake. A beautiful crystal clear lake with a waterfall nearby, nothing flashy, nothing famous. Nothing crowded. If you find it lacks the wacky vibe of canon, you are free to imagine a few badly cropped jpgs of seagulls hastily pasted into the scene. A funny little montage of your hijinks. Maybe she's holding up a giant lobster in one of them. Maybe she caught it with her teeth. Maybe you did.

And then she turns to you. That's wrong.

Her head turns to you, the creases on her neck a little too stiff, too dry. Something has changed.

What is it?

"Hey," she says.

What is different?

"I have a favour to ask," her voice carries through the air.

Now her whole body turns towards you. With a loud splash, her legs move her towards you, the lake almost making it look like she has no legs at all; a floating ghost haunting your present as much as your past.

Your ears pick it up first. Splash splash. You listen closely. Splash splash. You listen urgently.

"My dear friend," those words reach your ears.

Nothing else does.

The water is perfectly still. No waves singing their song. No sound of the water moving over stones and pebbles. No falling water to be heard. No birds nor frogs to start a choir. No rustling trees. No falling leaves for the wind to drum with. All is quiet.

"Would you do the honours and kill me?"

I realised that at this point I'm just writing a wholeass scene. I'm not gonna do that so godspeed and goodbye.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Porcelain (S.R.)

Summary: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.  Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff, Comfort Content Warning: Autistic meltdown, self-harm (hitting), sensory overload Word Count: 3.2k

MASTERLIST

I have become convinced over my decades of existence that there is no place with sounds more varied and chaotic than a cafe. For all intents and purposes, I should despise this place. The pungent, conflicting smells and the tight spaces filled with grumpy people should repel me like two north poles of a magnet.

And the sounds. Again, the sounds. The cashier till ringing and electric machines whirring. The customer chatter and the clatter of glassware. It was nothing but lawless pandemonium. There was no rhyme or reason to what you would hear, and the patterns were jagged and imprecise. I couldn’t predict what would happen with any better accuracy than I could guess someone’s name. I might get it right occasionally, but would it really be worth the energy to try? My brain would try to focus on everything and succeed at nothing. No matter how much time I spent there, I wasn’t be able to identify anything. But that day, all I could hear was the sound of the faulty faucet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A particular, predictable pattern repeating a reliable rhythm over and over.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

And all I could see was the woman who seemed to hear it, too. What was left of my faculties was focused on her finger, tapping gently against the table with an identical tempo.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She did it every time she came. Or at least, every time I’d seen her there. Part of me wanted to alert the staff of how much water they were wasting – over 20 gallons a day – but the rest of me was too scared. Worried that if the noise stopped, she wouldn’t find anything worth focusing on in this cafe. That she would disappear with the only sound that I’d grown to love.

There were many sounds to notice in a busy cafe. But that day I heard a sound that overwhelmed all of the others.

I wasn’t paying attention, and I would feel guilty about it for a long time. Although realistically I understand that I couldn’t have predicted the actions of other people well enough to prevent disaster, I still found myself wishing I could have warned her before she left the counter with her oversized porcelain cup.

I wish I could have warned the others how she only looks at their feet, and that she wouldn’t guess that they would’ve stepped into her way at the last second while they dilly dallied on their phone. I wish I could have warned her before the cup tumbled to the ground and became dozens of ricocheting shards and boiling liquid over the floor.

That sound of glass and gasps would resonate in my head for far too long.

The only good thing it did was alert me to the fact she’d also fallen, and was now soaked in brown liquid, avoiding prying eyes that she felt obligated to meet. It was a mistake. I watched as panic overtook her the second that she saw them. The others would read her eyes as a cry for help, and in many ways, it was, but not the kind they thought.

She was swamped behind a small crowd, torn from my vision when I wanted to reach out to her most. But just like her, my legs were frozen by the hectic scene that followed. To someone else, it might have seemed so leisurely and forgettable. But for her, for us, it was something else.

I could feel it. I could feel the hands reaching and grabbing and sweeping over my skin and the broken glass. The feel of still-warm coffee seeping into the fabric on my skin, the smell becoming one with the threads. My breathing increased and the world went dizzy with everything happening at once.

“Are you alright?” someone asked, but there was no answer. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Hey—“ I tried to interject. I tried, but the words caught on the lump in my throat and my hands just gripped the table rather than help propel me forward. But my hands knew where to be, and theirs did not.

I watched disaster unfold, with a stranger grabbing hold of her arm with both hands.

“Let me help,” they said.

They didn’t know.  

“No!” she shouted, but she didn’t move quick enough. Someone else grabbed her other arm, trying to help her from the ground still littered with hazardous pieces of porcelain and the coffee that dripped from her dress.

“No, no, no!” she tried again.

But they didn’t listen. They didn’t know what her ‘no’ meant. I felt like the only person in the room that understood, and yet I couldn’t make myself move. I couldn’t run into the fray just to add another set of hands doing too much. My heart wrenched in my chest, a punishment for my own cowardice as I watched her flounder in their hands until she could manage to wrestle free from one person.

“Jeez, sorry, I was just trying to help…” the woman muttered before leaving to have her ego soothed by other strangers that spoke her language.

But who would help that girl who tapped loving rhythms against the wood? If not me, if I couldn’t get up, what would become of her?

“Please!” she cried, the word harsh and forced through puckered cheeks. And it almost worked. They almost understood that the only help she needed was space and patient understanding. She just needed time for her mind to catch up to the sounds, the hands, the people, the porcelain.

It almost worked, but once the last hand released her, she was already lost in a terrible, torturous place. I could hear her thoughts as clear as I’d heard the synchronous dripping and tapping. As balled fists hit her skull, I could hear her screaming

Too much, too much, too much.

That was what made my legs sweep from their place, launching me in her direction in a horribly late fashion to try and prevent the inevitable. It wasn’t enough — I was too late.

I could see her arm shake against the unforgiving grip of someone else, trying to correct her in the worst possible way. Holding her down in a display of force and authority that never did work out for people like us.

“Hey, let go of her!” I croaked, barely recognizing the strained sound of my vocal cords. They didn’t listen, though. Not until my hand was just as ruthless in its grip, prying this stranger away from her. And it was my turn, then, to feel the too much of everything. I knew there was porcelain cutting through my shoes, but the pressure was nothing compared to the hands finding me, instead, trying to stop things from escalating.

Hands that would remind me of men in jumpsuits labeled with a number instead a name. Hands that felt like doctors prodding my body to try and find evidence of a decay I watched happen to someone else. Hands that held me before letting me go on purpose.

Hands that hurt. Too much, too much, too much.

When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. Fluttered out of sight like a bird that finally made its way out of the cement cage of a parking garage, with no regard for the nest she left behind or the fact her wings were too atrophied to make it very far.

“What the hell is wrong with her?”

The question lit a fire in my lungs that I wish had been present just a few seconds earlier.

“What’s wrong with her?!” I shouted back, earning horrified stares from the people who still thought she was the one at fault, “You just grabbed her! She was scared!”

“I was just trying to help!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” I spat, too fueled by regret and self-hatred to care about the wounds that might result. I couldn’t care about these people when there was a bird with broken wings somewhere on the streets.

I grabbed her headphones that I’d seen enough times to know like the back of my hand, fleeing my belongings the same way she had. I should’ve at least had the capacity to hope that no one would take them, but I would have considered the loss worth my while either way.

The whole problem felt worlds away once I stepped out of the stifling cafe, quickly spotting her sat halfway down the street. She was curled up on the curb, her hands over her ears and her body gently rocking at the same tempo as the faucet.

If she noticed me approaching, she did nothing to indicate to me that she was aware of my presence. Even when I sat down next to her, she barely moved from her spot.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I...“

My voice must have done something to break through the car horns and town’s chatter, because she jumped, turning to look at me before I could explain myself.

“I brought you these,” I said while presenting her headphones to her.  

Her nose twitched as she stared at the object, blinking her eyes closed tight to rid them of tears. Once she was confident that we were both real and unassuming, she snatched them up and slid them over her ears.

Then we just sat there, decompressing and drinking in the sounds of the city that seemed so much less chaotic in comparison to the cafe. Slowly but surely, her body began to relax as she worked the tension from her muscles with small, repetitive moments. The two of us watched the cars passing by in the same irregular rhythm that the people cycled through the place we’d left, counting the time between streetlights and finding anything to think about to distract us from everything we’d done wrong. When the noise was interrupted, it was by a voice I’d rarely heard speak more than a few words.

“I know you.”

I turned to her, surprised to see that she was meeting my eyes with a burning intensity that I wouldn’t have expected, and certainly wasn’t prepared to meet.

“What?”

“You’re Dr. Reid,” she said.

“How do you know my name?” I chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling as thought all the headlights on the road were aimed at me like a spotlight. I got the feeling she also felt embarrassed, like she’d said something wrong.

She shied further away from me, trying to find words to correct the mistake she couldn’t place. “That’s what they put on your to-go orders.”

“Ah!” That made sense. Of course, I probably shouldn’t have made such a loud exclamation, although it wasn’t enough to spook her. That was enough for me. “Well, my name is Spencer. The barista just likes to make fun of me.”

“That’s mean,” she whispered with bowed brows and a pout that both broke my heart and filled me with butterflies.

“No, it’s okay! We’re just playing around with each other. I am a doctor.”

It was definitely the wrong thing to say, because no sooner had the word left my mouth than her face had scrunched into a disgusted snarl.

“I don’t like doctors,” she mumbled, breaking eye contact and shifting her weight to the side farther away from me. I suppose a normal person would have been offended, but I was acutely aware of why she probably wasn’t a fan of medical professionals. It was my fault, really, for expecting her to realize I was in the minority of pretentious assholes who demanded to be referred to by their honorific.  

“Oh! Not that kind of doctor. I study math, mostly,” I explained, watching the way the relief transferred back and forth between us until we returned to our previous positions. She seemed so much happier that silence fell over us again, and I found myself wondering how long I’d been wasting my time watching her from across the way. How long I’d deprived us both of the other’s company.

But that wasn’t the time to think about luck. Not when she still seemed so stressed.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked, instead. She responded with her own equally exhausted question.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “It seems like you’re not having the best day, and I want to make it better.”

It felt rude to point out the obvious… but it was obvious. I mean, we were sitting on a city curb with disheveled, stained clothes. And, because of my stupidity, tears were added to the mix. The choked sobs came so quickly that it was almost like she’d been holding them back for the benefit of the random strangers passing us by. I knew I certainly didn’t want her to hold back on my account.

Then again, seeing her cry was pretty far down on the list of things I wanted to see.

“Oh no! I made it worse!” I tried to joke. Thankfully, she laughed. A sad, pitiful little sound that was only barely audible. If I hadn’t been straining to hear even the faintest sign of happiness, I probably would have missed it. But I had been listening, and so I joined her with my own awkward chuckle.

The interruption to her tears was enough to regain the clarity we’d fought for, and after another few seconds of wiping her face and readjusting damp clothes, she sighed, “They stopped selling my favorite muffins.”

“Oh yeah. I noticed they were different,” I said mostly to myself. Although she wasn’t really listening, I still felt compelled to apologize for fate’s grievances. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“The new ones aren’t good, so I don’t eat them. But I don’t like change.”

Her words cut to my core, and my stomach flipped at the thought. Because I was sure it wasn’t just a muffin to her. It was part of the foundation of her day. One of the many steps she had to take to make sure things felt okay. I felt even worse when I realized that I hadn’t noticed the plate beside her being empty.

“I’m working on it, though,” she assured me, and I nodded in response mostly because I felt she wanted me to. It didn’t feel right, though. I wanted her to know that what she felt was understandable. Relatable, even.  

“I don’t like change either,” I told her.

Curiously, she answered, “I know. I can tell.”

There wasn’t a lot of time for me to determine what she really meant by the comment, although I had a pretty good idea. After all, I knew that we were similar, too.

“I tried to tell myself everything would be okay like everyone told me I should, but they were wrong,” she tried to explain calmly, but her words became more difficult to decipher when her lips started to quiver with held back tears. “Things aren’t okay. Things went very bad.”

She looked down at her empty hands, then looked past them to her soiled dress. I heard the crashing in my head, again, and I wondered just how awful the fabric must feel against her skin.

“Hey, it’s alright. It was just a cup,” I whispered, “They’ve got a bunch of them.”

“But I broke it,” she cried, “I broke it and now it’ll never be the same again.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” I said while simultaneously using every bit of willpower I had to not touch her. I wanted to grab her hand and reassure her that broken things aren’t always bad. That broken things can be beautiful and worthy, too. Because she wasn’t talking about the cup.

“It’s broken,” she clarified with careful enunciation.

It was never about the cup.

“You know, people have a tendency to… project their feelings onto things sometimes when they’re upset,” I spoke slowly, carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort. I expected to find some, but there was surprisingly very little. In fact, the thing I noticed most was a small, understanding smile that graced her lips.  

“You said people like you aren’t one,” she laughed.

“It feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it?” I returned, just ecstatic to see that the smile didn’t wane. It stayed, stuck to her features and spreading to her fingers that were moving in patterns that were noticeably less distressed. I needed that to ask the next part.

“Do you think that it might not be the cup you’re worried about?”

Knocking her heel against the asphalt, she only glanced at me for a second before she answered, “Maybe sometimes.”

“I understand.”  

She looked at me then, with eyes wide and observant. Eyes that I couldn’t have lied to even if I wanted to. The butterflies in my stomach spread through my whole body, and the wind from their wings sent tingles over my skin. And without even thinking, the truth flowed from me with no regret or hesitation. With the fullest confidence that she would understand.

“If it’s any consolation, the cup might be broken, but I don’t think you are,” I whispered, “In fact, I think you’re pretty neat.”

When she looked away then, it didn’t seem to be out of fear or overstimulation. She looked… bashful. Happy. Fortunately, the new vantage point alerted her of something else. Something that would stop me from pouring my heart out to her on the city sidewalk.

“Your socks don’t match,” she said, pointing to my ankles that showed under my slacks.

“No! They don’t,” I agreed a bit too enthusiastically, “I do it on purpose.”

“Why?”

I probably should’ve thought about my answer but ended up deciding that the truth was the easiest, safest way to go.

“For good luck.”

“Luck isn’t real,” she stated matter-of-factly. But after letting herself find amusement in the idea, she turned to me with narrowed eyes and careful words spoken through the side of her mouth. “Does it work?”

Rocking my head back and forth a few times in a simulation of thought, I met her eyes again when I tried to talk. But then she was there, with a full smile on her face and comfort in her eyes that I wasn’t expecting. She asked me if the luck was real, like I wasn’t looking right at evidence it existed.

“Maybe sometimes.”

We both shared a laugh unlike the others. Vulnerable and honest and… hopeful. That feeling only intensified when she spoke again, low in volume and tone, like it was a secret to keep from the rest of the world.

“Thanks for bringing me my headphones.”

“Yeah, things are loud in the city,” I sighed before leaning back on my hands so I could take in more of the sight of shopfronts and citizens. “It can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she agreed halfheartedly. When I felt her eyes on me, I made the executive decision not to look. Mostly because I was scared the vision of her would rob the little air left in my lungs. It turned out to be one of the best things I’d ever done, because without my eyes inspecting her, she made her own set of decisions.

Her hands lowered, too, joining mine on the concrete between us. It was subtle, but her pinky settled against mine just enough that it didn’t scare her when I took the initiative and hooked mine around it. She said nothing, but I felt the way our hands flushed in the sunlight and the comfort of understanding one another.

“It’s kind of nice right now, though,” she said.

“Yeah,” I answered, “It is.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

Looking for more Autistic!Reader fics? Check out my rec list here!

[mlm-writer]

I Put a Spell on You (Shrek x Reader)

Kinktober Day Five: Coming Untouched

Pairing: Shrek x Dom Top Mage Reader with a penis  Rating: Explicit Words: 915 POV: Second Summary: Uhhh Shrek likes to get fucked by this random mage living in a cave, which happens to be you. Notes: Listen. This might be the most sensual and erotic thing I have ever written and it is either ruined or made even better each time you’re reminded it is Shrek you’re fucking. Also just to be clear, you hide your sexy mage cave from the public eye via an illusion and the potion Shrek drinks is to see past that illusion. He is not drugged or beyond the ablity to consent via his own free will. We don’t do that here. There is only consential onion daddy fucking. Oh and no chest mentions. Reader has a penis, but can identify with any gender identity.  Tags: sexy mage cave, coming untouched, magic is convenient, good boy Shrek, creampie, everyday I stray further from the Lord, why did you request bottom Shrek he is such a daddy, begging and a dash of praise

Dark green mist rolled over the floor of the cave. The stench inside was strong, but not unpleasant. It was better than the swamp at least, that much Shrek could tell, but he preferred the familiar scent anyway. The way deeper into the cave was lit by fireflies that flew around and casted an ominous glow on the slick rocks. When the ogre saw the glow of fire in the distance, he quickened his pace, until he found himself right in front of the gates of your underground lair. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but they already swung open for him. An honoured guest was to be let in right away after all. 

He found you in your bedroom as per usual. Your back was turned to him and in the dim lights, vision deceived any soul. You seemed so normal, so ordinary. Shrek knew better than that. The goblet that was meant for him sat on the side table by the door. He drowned the liquid inside and let out a sigh of relief as his brain got addled with every feel-good hormone an ogre could have. The illusion of ordinary broke away as he got to see this cave and its owner for what they really were. You turned to him with an alluring smile. “Glad to have you return,” you mused. Your voice drew him in like magnetism. His feet carried him without a thought toward you and he bent down to capture your lips with his. Your hand glided over his hand on your hip up his arm. He felt heady as he fell back into the routine he had become so accustomed to. 

You got the ogre on his back without another word or a shred of effort. Shrek was a good boy, who knew exactly what you wanted and what he needed to do. You made quick work of your clothes. With a snap of your fingers, you were both clean and the smell of a concoction of rose, bergamot and cedar filled the air. The worry lines on Shrek’s face disappeared and were replaced with a blithe expression. 

Another snap of the fingers and you were hard and he was slick and open for you. You drove your cock inside him, revelling in the beatific face he made as you entered him. His huge hands grabbed your sheets as he spread his legs wider for you. You saw his cock showing interest between his legs, his balls hanging heavy and rubbing against your cock with every slide. 

Music filled the room and you rolled your hips to the slow and sensual beat. Shrek knew better than to beg for a faster pace. He was to receive whatever you decided to give, nothing more and nothing less. He bit his lip to hold back the lascivious sounds you tore from him with your torturously slow pace. You ran your hands up his body, pinching his nipples. A loud gasp got him to release his bottom lip and an unexpected hard thrust earned you the moan you had been aiming for. “Good boy,” you mused sardonically. 

You drew your hands back and put them behind you as you thrusted harder into him. He was hot and wet and you saw his half-hard cock leaking onto his belly. You watched his hands and mouth twitch, knowing exactly what he wanted, but refusing to give it until he showed a little more vulnerability. “Kiss me,” he eventually whispered and you heard him come apart with each word. You put your hands on his chest and leaned down. Your lips brushed briefly together, ever so lightly. You tortured him like that with a steady pace and your lips barely within his reach. 

You hardly pulled out now, just fucking him deep and waiting for him to let down his pride and beg. It was so interesting to see him come in each time full of male pride. It was even more interesting to watch him leave each time with a little less tension in his body and a shyness in his step. Your hips sped up as you reminded yourself how this sight was for you and you alone. There was no one else Shrek would allow to see him like this, to do him like this. 

The background music sped up as your thrusts turned frantic with possessiveness. Your rough fucking was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Oh please, I’m close. Let me come,” Shrek moaned over and over, his ass tightening around you as he tried to keep himself from tipping over the edge without your permission. You let out a primal growl as you reached your climax first. Once you reached the end of your orgasm, you pulled out, looked the ogre straight in his brown eyes and told him to come for you. 

Shrek’s scream echoed off the walls as he came without even being hard, without a single touch, not even your cock inside him. He writhed underneath you, whole, green body tensing for a few seconds as he painted himself with his cum. Once the last spurt left his weeping cock, he relaxed completely. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Shrek laid on your bed with a beatific face. The music faded out into a soft thrum as Shrek bathed in the post-orgasm high. You caressed his face and placed a fleeting kiss on his cheek. ��Until next time, love.”

[btsmosphere]

Deep Rooted | KSJ

~summary: when a group of strangers washes up in your village, your trepidation is justified. Surrounded by forest here, no one goes in and no one goes out. How will you fare when you take in the new arrivals? ~pairing: seokjin x reader (gn) ~word count: 6.9k ~fantasy au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff ~rating: pg15 ~warnings: weapons, monsters, blood, injury, past character death, major character death (sort of)

~a/n: I wrote this fic to wish a wonderful happy birthday to the amazing @aroseforyoongi​ !!! thank you so much for being the most wonderful mom to @thebtswritersclub​ and for all the fun times we have had! I wish you the best of birthdays, even if this fic is sort of revenge for breaking my heart so many times with your writing. also I definitely didn’t get the wrong date for your birthday and bash this out in a day... nooo (I did absolutely do this so please ignore any errors, I have not proofread)

The sound of yelling accompanied the thunder of your feet down the stairs.

It wasn’t often that such a commotion was heard in your sleepy town, but what you had seen a moment ago from your window had you running immediately.

“Stay back!”

“Please, he’s wounded-“

“We mean no harm!”

“I’m sure you don’t sonny, now get away or I’ll shoot you! I’ll do it!”

Throwing open your front door, you raced towards the voices, alarmed at the rising volume. Rounding the corner as fast as you could, you spilled out into the square, a small group of people you didn’t recognise crowded by the old gate. Long since abandoned, it was swamped in ivy, tendrils of which blew into their faces as three townsfolk pushed them back.

Your eyes widened on seeing Cribbons, the eldest man in the village, brandishing a rusting pistol at the strangers.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” one of the strangers stepped forwards, the warning in his voice as clear as his hand began unsheathing a sword from his belt.

Gasping, you dashed across the remaining distance between you and the group.

“What’s going on?” you exclaimed, coming to a stop directly between the two parties.

Eyeing the new people, you saw them do the same, wary of you. But before either of you could speak, Cribbons was talking.

“They came in from the forest!”

Looking between both parties, you could only gape.

“They- that’s not possible,” you shook your head.

“It’s true, we all saw it!” Cribbons snarled, “we’re just trying to send them back where they came from.”

Frown deepening, you cast your eyes over the group that had appeared, apparently from Midbleak forest. Now you were closer, you could see one of them was seated, slumping against the crumbling gatepost. Their hands clutched at their leg, which you were shocked to see bleeding profusely.

Another stranger was supporting them, and now looked around at you.

Drawing in a breath, you found yourself unable to look away from the man, his large eyes beseeching you. Strikingly handsome, he rose to his feet to address you with a small bow.

“Please,” he spoke, “we are all in need of rest. And somewhere for my friend to heal. We mean you and your town no harm.”

Silence reigned and you realised each person was awaiting and answer from you. As the town’s apothecary, you technically had some level of authority, but it was never usually necessary to gather respect given the (usually) peaceful nature of your dwelling.

For now, though, you were grateful for your position, and turned to the new arrivals.

“I apologise for the behaviour of the townspeople,” you began with a sideways glance at Cribbons, “and welcome you to Midbleak. We are not… accustomed to having visitors. But I can make space for you, if you follow me.”

Bowing again, the man thanked you. Quickly turning to aid his friend who still leaned heavily against him, your eyes never strayed from his form until another of the party blocked your view.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he smiled, dimples showing.

“Don’t mention it,” you returned the smile, “we best get moving.”

A crowd had gathered, unsurprising given that nothing of note ever happened here. Ushering the newcomers away, you did your best to shield them from the staring eyes looking on from every window.

Once inside, you allowed the group to settle in your front room. There were seven of them, meaning most had to seat themselves at various places on the floor or your windowsills, in any space not occupied by your herbs or potions. Since you lived alone, you had never prepared for this much company.

The injured man, introduced to you as Taehyung, was granted the entire settee. Disappearing to your supply larder, you tried not to think of the bloodstains you would have to wash off later.

Returning with bandages and ointment, you realised you hadn’t offered them anything to eat or drink. It had been such a long time since you had entertained others that the manners your brother always taught you had almost slipped your mind.

“I’m so sorry,” you garbled, depositing your armful of supplies beside the settee, “would any of you like tea? Or, um, I’m sure I could find something to eat-“

“You’ve done enough,” a hand rested on your shoulder, bringing your attention to the man who spoke to you earlier. “Allow me to make some tea, if you have it, but our Taehyungie needs you most right now.”

“Of course,” you hastily agreed, and set to work.

Directing the man to your stove, you made quick work of patching up Taehyung. It wasn’t often you had to deal with ailments more severe than a sprained muscle, but wounds like this were something you could never forget.

Before you knew it, a warm mug was being pressed into your hands. Taehyung had fallen asleep, but on looking around, you found all the others gratefully drinking as well.

“Thank you…” you trailed off.

“Seokjin,” he prompted, “Kim Seokjin.”

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled as he settled beside you, “my name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“This tea is great,” another spoke.

Thanking him, you explained that you grew all your ingredients yourself.

“Do you… do you think we might be able to take some with us?”

The man who spoke was the same who threatened to draw his sword in the square, and you frowned.

“Jungkook,” Seokjin scolded from beside you, “we’ll buy it off them at a fair price, given what they’ve done for us.”

“S-sorry,” you interjected, “but what to you mean ‘to take with you’? You’re not… going somewhere?”

“We’ll stay here for as long as we need to rest and for Tae to heal,” the dimpled man told you, “but then we will be leaving.”

You stared in horror.

“…leaving?”

“Yes, you see, we were on our way across the forest when we got delayed,” Seokjin explained, “we got lost and ended up here. So as soon as we can, we’ll try to find our original path.”

“But-but,” you spluttered, “no one leaves here! You can’t!”

“We have to,” Jungkook’s voice was terse.

“No one goes into the forest,” you matched his tone, a warning.

“Calm down, Kook,” the boy beside him held up a hand, then turned to you with a tilt of his head. “Why does no one go into the forest?”

“No one ever comes back.”

“We managed to get in, didn’t we?” one of the others argued.

“And that’s exactly why the people here are afraid of you,” you countered, “but it’s not like you came out unscathed.”

Mulling over your words, you saw defeat paint his features. The dimpled man spoke instead.

“We might be able to help.”

“Help?” you raised your eyebrows.

“Yes. I’m Kim Namjoon, and my party have had many successes against beasts, demons, and all sorts. I’m sure we can figure out what has happened to your town, and free you.”

In your cup, the liquid rippled slightly as your hands trembled around it. Slowly, you began to shake your head, the motion soon becoming vehement.

“No.” you said firmly, “you don’t understand-“

Your feet were already beneath you, taking you further from this group of delusional adventurers. In the doorway, you stopped, eyeing them fearfully for a second.

“No one goes into the woods.”

You turned on your heel, feet pounding up the stairs until your bedroom door slammed behind you.

Forcing yourself to lower your hands from where they raked over your scalp, you ceased your pacing. As you stood, sucking in deep breaths in some futile attempt to calm yourself, your eyes finally came to rest on your nightstand.

Your steps forward were softer now. You weren’t conscious of the sad smile that slipped onto your lips as your fingers came to caress the small vase of flowers that always stood there. Their petals were soft against the pads of your fingertips, but still firm with life.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

Letting your hand fall, you sunk onto your bed. Perhaps you should try to think of a way to tell the party downstairs to forget their death wish, or to get out.

Then again, why should you care if they want to go and get themselves killed? They only just turned up, and you had no obligation to them.

A gentle rap at the door lulled you from your reverie. Turning, you called for whoever-it-was to enter. You weren’t sure who you could expect, but of all the group, it was a relief to see that Jin was on the other side of the door.

Pushing it open cautiously, he only trod a couple of steps into the room. His eyes fixed on you where you sat with your back to him, not bothering to get up and instead only glancing over your shoulder.

Briefly smiling, he bobbed his head in a bow before speaking.

“Are you alright?”

Hi voice was as soft as his words, taking you somewhat by surprise.

“Where are the others?” you deflected.

“Most of them have gone to get supplies from the town. Taehyung’s still sleeping. I came to check if you were okay,” he pressed.

“Yes. Thank you,” you turned your eyes back to the floor in front of you, “I-I just- a lot has happened – you lot turn up, and now there’s talk of the… the woods…”

“I understand.” You heard the creaking of your floorboards, soon feeling the bed dip beside you, the warmth of his body very close. “Or at least, I can try to. I don’t mean to worry you… if you want us to leave, I’ll get the others to comply.”

“I appreciate it,” you sighed, then throwing your hands out in frustration, “but your friend still isn’t well. Where else can your group of idiots go if not into the death-trap outside the gates?”

Laughter beside you made you look around. His laugh wasn’t elegant, but it was full of joy and left it impossible for you not to chuckle with him.

When he calmed down, he looked back at you. The proximity startled you; even with splotches of red on his face post-laughter, you were struck again by his beauty. Light creases still resided by his brilliant eyes as he held your gaze.

“I won’t argue with that description of us,” he smirked, “but I really think we can help. I know whatever is out there must be scary, if it’s stopped anyone leaving this place. But we only want to help you. Is there nothing you miss from the outside?”

Unconsciously, your eyes slid to the flowers standing proud on your dresser.

“I don’t even remember what lies beyond the woods,” you confessed.

“Then wouldn’t you like to see?”

A look back showed Jin still staring at you with hopeful eyes that cracked your heart a little bit.

“We shouldn’t hope like this,” you smiled apologetically, “it’s just too risky.”

Dropping it for now, he grimaced slightly. Your heart ached even at the small sign of hurt on his face. Before you could say anything, however, he was swiftly moving on.

“But we can stay with you?”

“Yes,” you agreed, “I don’t have too much space, but you can fit three of four in here, and the others should be alright downstairs.”

“We’re much obliged,” he smiled, and you couldn’t get enough of the happy creases forming by his eyes. “But what about you? I wouldn’t like to deprive you of a place to sleep.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “there’s one more room I can use.”

Jin was the perfect gentleman, helping you set out the space before returning downstairs. Without even asking, he was preparing tea, insisting it was the least he could do. And as the others returned with jokes on their lips and hands full of things they had bought, you saw the way he laughed with them like they were brothers.

You found you didn’t mind having them there so much, after all. Even when they grumbled or snapped, it was never long before they fell back into familiar banter, and it was like having a family again.

For a few days, a sort of routine was established. Namjoon always hoped to gather ‘information’ on whatever evil was surrounding your town. Some went with him, others went to the gate.

Taehyung was soon well again, although you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. His regaining health was proving injurious to you, given the stress he caused. If he was still struck down, Jin wouldn’t have to fret over him so many times as he wandered stubbornly into the woods, always to become lost and end up back in the town.

But you couldn’t deny that life was certainly more lively.

One constant, however, was Seokjin. He went out the least, electing to stay and help you. It became something you looked forward to: the house emptying of others so you could drink tea and talk, or take him on small tours around your favourite parts of town.

It was pleasing to see the villagers become a little more accustomed to the new additions, too.

“You look so happy these days,” the baker told you as Jin picked out his favourite bread somewhere behind you.

At the time, you merely blushed as you thanked your friend, but on the short journey home, you realised it was true. Jin was rambling on about the time Jungkook had taken an axe to a waterfall that annoyed him once, another story of outside the woods to bring a grin to your face.

Pushing open the door for you back home, Jin held it open for you to go first. But just as you crossed the threshold, words met your ears that took your smile away in an instant.

“We’re thinking of going tomorrow.”

Whirling around, you stared in disbelief. Jin shuffled his feet, reluctant to meet your eye.

“You’re still thinking about going into those woods?” you exclaimed, incredulous.

“Yes…” he cocked his head, looking away, “we have to keep moving.”

Torn between stepping towards him or backing away, you stayed rooted to your spot.

“But… don’t you like it here? Are you not happy?”

When he looked up, his big eyes stole the breath from you. Behind a watery coating that welled up there, he looked so wounded. But, pressing his lips together, a corner dared to lift into a hopeful smile.

“…come with us?”

You inhaled sharply.

“No,” you shook your head firmly, “can’t you just stay here?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he pleaded, “but if the others are going, so am I. They’re my brothers.”

“You’ll never make it out alive!” you raised your voice, breathing heavily. But all that was betrayed by the way your voice overflowed and cracked, tears springing to your eyes that you blinked away.

“Don’t be like this, please,” he was calmer, stepping forwards and reaching out a hand…

It drew towards you and you so desperately wanted to take it, to fling yourself into his arms and feel him safe around you- but he was still leaving. You couldn’t change his mind. And if he was leaving you couldn’t allow him to take your heart with him.

You shied back, flinching from his hand. In turn, Jin froze, staring at you with such pain in his eyes that you couldn’t bear to look – and so you didn’t.

Turning away, you fled up the stairs.

“Y/N!” he called from behind you.

Hurriedly depositing the bags on your table, he dashed to follow you, reaching the room you had been sleeping in just as the door swung shut in his face. He had never been in there, but didn’t think twice about pushing the door open to get to you.

Calling your name again, he could barely blink before your teary face was in view, close as you tried to push the door closed again.

“Leave!” you begged, trying to inject as much venom into your wavering voice as you could.

“Y/N, please, I don’t want to go like this-“ Jin struggled to say, to make himself heard as you pushed the door back, “I want you to come with me! I don’t want to leave you behind, goddammit, because I don’t want to be without you! I love you!”

Ceasing in your every move as his words sunk in, your trembling frame pressed against the door. Closing your eyes, your face screwed up as juddery breaths left you. You could practically feel your heart shattering while he waited in silence for any response.

“Get out,” your voice was low, not daring to be louder.

Through the small crack remaining between the door and its frame, Jin watched you but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I shouldn’t- if you don’t feel the same-“

Casting your eyes heavenwards, you tried to form words, anything that would explain to him what was running through your head.

“No, Jin-“ you interjected, “I do! I do feel the same, I-I… that’s why I would rather you go.”

“But, Y/N,” he frowned, “if you love me, then let’s go! We can see the world together, we can do all the things I’ve been telling you about.”

“No,” you finally found your voice firmer, “because I l- because of how I feel, I don’t want to see you go into those woods. I don’t want to lose you.”

A beat as he sighed.

“I have to go… these boys are my brothers. Do you know how it feels, to have a family? Whether by blood or not, that is important. Can’t you understand that?”

For the first time, you finally raised your eyes to meet his, exhaling shakily.

“I know what it feels like to have a family…” your voice was quiet as you tried to spit the words out, “and so I know how it feels when that is all lost. If you go into that forest, you’ll watch them die. If you love them as much as you say, you wouldn’t let them go there.”

“Because I love them, that’s why I have to go with them,” he insisted, “I’ll be beside them and I won’t let them die. If anything comes for them, I’ll be in its way.”

“So your mind is made up,” you whispered with a small nod, “then why are you still here?”

After a brief pause, you felt a small push against the door instead of a response.

“Won’t you let me in?” he asked softly.

Resolve crumbling, you finally stepped back. As the door fell open without resistance, you sucked in a breath and held it, watching as he finally laid eyes on the space.

Around him, he could barely see the walls through the greenery erupting at every corner. But these couldn’t be plants for your apothecary – he would recognise those. No, these looked to be just for decoration.

Dotted around the foliage, from the leafy stems at the sides to the smaller pots lining every surface, were flowers of all kinds. Just like the ones in the vase in your room, that had never moved even now that four boys were sleeping there.

While his head turned this way and that, taking in the multitude of plants, his mouth formed words never spoken, unsure what to say. In the end, he settled for-

“What is this?”

Finally meeting your eyes, he awaited your explanation.

“This… was my brother’s room,” you spread your arms out, indicating the space as you continued, voice flat and dejected, “he loved flowers. He would always bring some back to me when he went out to the forest… He was one of the people who tried to defend the forest. Since people started going missing, all the men of the town joined together to try and defeat whatever foe was troubling us…

“But then the same thing happened to them. He was so eager to protect us, have an adventure… and so confident. And of course, he was my older brother, so I believed him. On the day he left, he gave me that vase of flowers, and told me to wait for him at dinner. Only, they never returned. A handful made it back, terrified and telling about how they fought but were defeated, and they had no choice but to run. No one dared collect the bodies, or…”

Your breathing shuddered, throat constricting as you spoke, but only now did a sob cut you off.

Instantly beside you, Jin’s arms circled you without hesitation, pulling you to his chest. You couldn’t resist if you tried, falling into them as you collected yourself.

“Shh, I’m so sorry,” he was muttering into your hair, pressing small kisses there between his comfort, “I’m sorry, I’m here, it’s okay.”

Bringing your arms around his middle in return, you held him fiercely.

At last, when you were able to draw a breath, you pulled your face away to look him in the eye.

“Come with me,” you said. Before he could question, you were grabbing his hand, leading him resolutely to the back corner of the room. As you got closer, however, it became clear it went further then he could initially see.

“This,” you sniffed, still wiping at your eyes, “is my teleportation circle. You can come here anytime-“

Dropping his hand, you walked forwards, crouching to wipe dust from the surface so the sigils around the edge could be clearly read.

“-I haven’t used it in some time. It doesn’t function between here and outside the woods, so I’m not sure if it will even help…”

Trailing off, you turned to find him watching you fondly.

“You have to be safe,” you said.

“I will be.”

Despite the darkness around you, your eyes were wide open. You should be asleep, you knew that much, but they certainly weren’t considering closing any time soon.

Jin may have told you to take care as his friends waited at the door, leaving you with one last (and your first) kiss.

It was partly that moment keeping you up; if you closed your eyes, maybe the night wouldn’t disappear from your grasp and wake you up further in time from Jin and his perfect smile, with your memory of his pillowy lips moulding to yours just right fading. No, you wanted this to live in your head for as long as you could, dedicating the still of night to replaying the moment, wishing for it not to just be in your head anymore.

Jin promised he would be alright. He promised to come back, but your little faith had not backed off. It was too late for you to save your poor heart, however, and that was mostly why you had yet to fall into the clutches of slumber.

Somewhere out there in the woods right now, Jin was probably lost, possibly fighting.

Tossing your body over, you looked out into the room, rows of plants and flowers barely discernible in the pitch black. You had remained in your brother’s old room, unable to face the emptiness of your own which was so recently filled with life.

But though you refused to let yourself cling to any stupid, childish hope, there was clearly still a child within you as your thoughts flitted unbidden to Jin’s face, the way he would smile when he saw you again.

Your sleep-deprived mind could only fight off that child for so long.

That child, that had believed your brother’s bold confidence. That had dreamed of fighting too. You had wailed and complained that day, wanting to go with him, inspired with the same flame as him to fight for your town.

But that fire was snuffed out with him.

Still staring ahead, only the empty room greeted you. The house was too quiet. Over the past week or so, the boys had been courteous and tried to be silent at night, but at the very least there was always some giggling, some whispers or floorboards creaking as they probably snuck out to pilfer some snacks.

At least you had known you were not alone.

But you had been by yourself for so long, why did it taste so bitter now?

Just as you were longing for some activity in your barren house, a sound startled you. Jerking upright immediately, you were instantly aware how close the sound was, a sort of whooshing that is soon joined by a flaring light.

Scrambling from beneath your covers, you threw your hands up to shield your eyes that have been in darkness for some hours.

“Y/N?”

The call echoed through the entire house, even though you were in the same room. You were sure you must be dreaming. That’s Jin’s voice.

Dropping your arms, your eyes searched the space in a second.

Sure enough, there he is.

Your mouth hung open, a gasping mix between a sob and a laugh escaping as he rushed over to you from your teleportation circle in the corner.

“Jin?” you dared to smile as he approached.

But then you saw his face.

“Do you have healing potions?” he asked, voice raw with desperation, “we need medicine, a-and bandages, and anything you have-“

Nodding, you instantly complied, not needing to question his motive. Grasping his hand (and oh god it’s real and he’s still alive and with you-) you dashed down the stairwell, hurrying to gather supplies with him hot on your tail.

“What’s going on?” you panted as you raced back up the stairs, arms full, “what did you find?”

Kicking the door open none too gently, Jin spared you a glance.

“It’s a beholder. It’s clearly been ravaging your forest for a long time now, and it’s powerful. I’m sure that’s what’s blocking any magical connection with the outside, too.”

You had read about beholders somewhere before. Magical monsters with too many eyes, destroying all but the most powerful in its path. That was surely not something the party would dare to face.

“So you’re coming back?”

“No,” he stopped, right outside your circle, to look at you, “we got away, but most of us are hurt. Now we know what it is, if we track it down again, we can put a stop to this.”

How a grin adorned his face, you had no idea. His friends were in the middle of danger, on the verge of death, and he still had hope.

“That’s…”

You didn’t know what it was.

Your town, free? It was beyond your imagination. Of course it was what you all dreamed of, but never dared to believe could come true.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes travelled from the man in front of you to the flowers surrounding you here.

You stood a little taller.

“I’ll come with you.”

Jin’s eyes bulged, freezing as he stepped into the circle.

“What?”

“I said I’ll come with you,” you repeated, stepping right in after him, “it’s time to stand up for my village.”

A full-watt grin broke onto his face then, and if it wasn’t for the supplies filling his arms, he would have swept you into them. Instead, he settled for surging forwards, lips pressing eagerly into yours.

Eyes sliding closed, your heart took off in somersaults as the moment you had never thought you would see again repeated, his soft lips calming any nerves with the fire it lit up in you. Too soon, he was pulling back, and you chased after him for one last peck.

Giddy smiles on your faces despite the minefield you were heading into, you broke apart at last.

Around you, the circle burst into life. Shooting from the floor, light cut through your vision, soon engulfing you as the distantly familiar feeling of the world shifting around you took over your being.

Once it settled again, light retracting back into the earth at your feet, the world was dark once more. This time, though, the darkness was more encompassing, thick tree trunks standing between the forest floor and the moon, uncompromising.

A smaller light emerged, blinking into life above your head.

Looking around, you caught the tail end of Jin muttering another incantation, before he and the light were moving forwards into the forest.

Treading in his wake, your head never stayed still, searching the darkness around you constantly as you wove through the trees. Every time Jin disappeared behind one, you would scurry to keep up, heart accelerating in your chest as the darkness encroached again.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before you reached another light between the trees, hovering above the familiar group of men.

Jin was already on the ground, tending to Jimin, so you followed his lead and headed for Jungkook. On your way, you handed some bottles to Yoongi, kneeling beside Namjoon. All of them looked worn-out, slumped against the coarse bark with bruises blooming on exposed skin.

Jungkook was unusually quiet, eyelids drooping as you crouched beside him. A gash was bleeding along his collarbone. Dabbing at it, you shook him gently, instructing him to down one of your potions as soon as he seemed alert enough.

It seemed to revive him somewhat, although this had the unfortunate effect that he was more alert to the pain as you patched him up.

But you were experienced, and it was quick work. Soon enough you were also sitting back, looking around the party. They seemed a little more at ease now. You were happy you were able to help them. Even from such a short time around these men, you had grown attached, and now you were sure they could be a family, just as Jin had told you.

“We’ll take a few hours,” Namjoon was telling everyone, “then we’ll go and hunt for that thing again. This time we’ll be more prepared.”

Agreeing, everyone began to settle down. Making his way over to you, Jin eased himself to the floor too, making your heart soar as he tucked himself behind you, arms circling you from behind.

Closing his eyes peacefully, he tucked his chin over your shoulder, muttering against your neck.

“I’m glad you came. You’re so brave.”

“Oh, shush,” you sank back into his arms.

Barely a moment later, though, and he was stiffening, sitting upright behind you. His arms dropped from their place, head lifting away from you.

“Hey,” you groaned from the loss of comfort, only to be hushed.

“No, really, shush,” he hissed at your affronted look, eyes already far away, scanning the trees.

Turning your attention to the forest yourself, you heard what must have frightened him. Not too far away, a splintering ricocheted through the trees.

“Hey, guys,” Jin’s voice carried through the secluded space easily, but just as a few heads perked up, the cracking sound swelled in a deafening crescendo, culminating in a resounding thud.

Jin was on his feet, and he wasn’t the only one.

“It’s here,” Namjoon’s voice was bracing.

Rising to stand as well, your eyes traced the path of a light sent up by Jimin. Ascending through the trees, blinking as it crossed branches, eventually a silhouette made itself known.

That was certainly no tree.

Another cacophony announced the falling of a second tree as the shape advanced further into the pool of light, seizing the breath in your lungs. The creature didn’t even touch the ground, hovering instead as it bulldozered any tree standing in its path.

Scattering, you followed Jin through the trees to avoid its advance, but you could never escape its gaze. Worse than anything you could imagine just reading about this monster, it had eyes protruding from its sickening mass of a body, which also held a grotesquely large eye above a gaping mouth of fangs.

“We discussed a plan,” Jin hissed in your ear as he positioned himself in front of you, hands already balling in front of him, a light forming within as he prepared to attack, “we’ll hit it long enough for Jungkook and Taehyung to get close. They’re the best warriors, and they can chop off some of the eyes. It gets weak quickly, so we just have to stay alive and buy as much time as we can.”

Nodding quickly, you also readied a spell.

The first beam of light shot through the night from between trees somewhere on the beast’s other side. It spun, furious roar gargling from its belly, but Jin had already shot from beside you.

Reeling from the fire that struck it, the awful mass of eyes flailed, and another cry was drawn just after you caught sight of a shadow below the beast, a glint of metal slicing through the air.

“Nice,” Jin muttered, darting behind the trunk of a tree.

For once, you didn’t follow. Stepping resolutely into the space, face set, you raised your hands, light firing from your palms in bursts. It had been a while since you practised magic this way, but you had no time to doubt yourself before the creature was bellowing again, turning your way-

Ducking behind a tree, your eyes met Seokjin’s where he stood pressed against the next one.

You couldn’t help the grin bursting onto your face, mirrored by his own.

Behind you, the night lit up with flashes that bathed the trees around you, illuminating the deep blackness. A shadow with too many limbs writhed among the branches, mingled with loud and angry roars.

The monster began to retreat.

Already missing several eyes, thick blood sliding down its body, it sent out a blast of its own. Above you, the tree branches ignited, crashing down in flames just as your feet raced away, jumping over thick tree roots.

“Let’s get on the other side of it,” Jin urged, an arm finding its way around your back as you darted together through the undergrowth.

Still running, he sent another bolt flying towards the beast, knocking it into a large tree which creaked, slowly beginning to topple to the forest floor.

In panic, your eyes searched the ground around it as your feet came to a stop in what had become a clearing due to the fallen trees. The others seemed unscathed from this distance, all of them racing to join you, surrounding the monster.

Before the beast could act, you were firing again. Barely hitting as you caught your breath from your previous sprint, you caught it nonetheless, giving enough space for Taehyung to lunge forwards again, taking a leap and succeeding in hacking off an eye.

Wincing, you flinched back from the appendage as it crashed to the ground, but a whoosh of magic was already being fired again, fight still not ceasing.

As it weakened, though, the monster was becoming more enraged. Growling, it lashed out, colossal teeth gnashing towards the fighter who had just robbed it of an eye. Tripping over a gnarled root, Taehyung was inches from the clash of the beast’s teeth as he fell, but soon the thing was spinning again.

With horror, you found the target it had selected next. Apparently Jungkook had seen a way in when the creature was diverted, but as his sword raised, the eye in question swivelled to focus directly on him.

Eyes widening, you saw the beast rear back in slow-motion, preparing its attack but your feet were glued to the ground, rendering you helpless as the split second played out like an hour in front of you, magic sparking and fizzling through the air towards the youngest-

“Jungkook!”

It wasn’t until the cry met your ears that you realised Jin had left your side, speeding across the clearing.

Then time hit you like a train, every moment rushing by in a blink as you cried Jin’s name, raising your hand on instinct, summoning your magic without a thought.

Nothing happened.

Blinking in surprise, you looked at your hand, feeling the magic flow towards it and… stop.

A faint glow surrounded you, emanating from the beast’s eye, holding you still, keeping your magic captive within you as you watched Jin jump at his younger brother-

The bolt of magic sliced through the air. Jin was in front of Jungkook. The blow cut the darkness, driving straight into his chest, both men flung backwards from the impact.

Movement.

You saw it as the glow finally released you, too late. Stumbling forwards, your feet had to remind themselves how to move but then they were overtaking each other in haste until you crashed to your knees at Jin’s side.

The movement had been Jungkook.

He fought his way from underneath Jin, who merely flopped to the side.

“Jin!” your voice came out an unstable cry, alien to your ears. Jungkook beside you was frozen, watching as you tugged his friend, his brother over onto his back, only to be met with an unseeing face.

No response.

Shaking him, desperate, raw pleas falling over and over from your lips, you already knew it was too late. The blazing lights still flashing through the night only lit up paling skin, your hands as they searched his neck for the steady pulse of life that it never found.

Tears burned down your cheeks long before you were even aware of them.

And then they were soaking, breath refusing to enter your lungs as you gasped, hands now surrounding you, the night still. That cool light Jimin cast earlier was the only thing hanging over the scene as the boys gathered round.

Taehyung sheathed his bloody sword, the giant forgotten where it lay on the ground somewhere behind you.

All you could see was Jin’s face. He did what he said he would do: get in the way of that monster and his brothers.

The boys held each other. They even held you, although it was not the same. Just a hand on your shoulder, a pat on your back.

You could go with them.

You went back to your town.

The house was empty again, and your kitchen began to fill with tea, just as the room upstairs stacked with plants. You made Jin’s favourite mixtures, and they sold well.

You never drank them.

Your house was still again. The darkness was never alive. You were alone.

And no matter how hard you wished, you would never conjure the feeling of his lips on yours. He would never turn up just as you needed him.

The circle in your brother’s room gathered dust again.

People flooded from the village, his name on their lips, their saviour.

You would walk to the gates often. Sometimes you strayed into the woods. You cared for the fire he had reignited within you, wanting to keep him with you in some way.

But the baker didn’t think you looked happy anymore.

You sold your potions, accepted adventurers that came more often now, but you stayed out of their way. And at night, you would be encased by a glow as you kicked and screamed with magic frozen in your veins. You never did escape it.

Seven sets of eyes blinked at you from around the table. Their mouths hung open in something akin to horror.

Your face was split in an irresistible grin.

“…you actually killed me?”

A bubble of laughter finally rose, spilling from your lips at the sight of Seokjin’s enraged expression.

“That was traumatic,” Yoongi sat back in his chair as you calmed down from your laughter.

“But I was gonna spend my life with your npc!” Jin argued, hand slapping the tabletop, “or do you not want to be with me?”

“That’s probably why she had to kill you, hyung,” Jimin hid a giggle behind his hand, “we already have enough members in this campaign.”

“Yah!” Jin spluttered, face reddening, “b-but, why kill me? And not them?”

“Rude!” you pressed a hand to your heart, pausing where you were shuffling away your pages of campaign notes. “Did you not have fun being my boyfriend, Jin?”

“Yeah, you seemed to be having great fun,” Taehyung smirked, jabbing at Jin with his elbow.

“Just say you want to date and go,” Namjoon agreed, shaking his head in exasperation.

Jin pouted, only eliciting more laughter from the group as he folded his arms.

“Shut it, you lot!” he complained.

Eventually, your friends were filing out of your house, thanking you between laughter for another good campaign and the promise to play again the same time next week. Only one lingered by your doorway.

“I can’t believe you really killed me off,” Jin spoke.

“Cut it out,” you chuckled, “I know you’ll miss being my lover terribly, but I’m sure you can manage.”

He eyed you as you kicked the living room door shut, joining him in the hall.

“Of course I will,” his lips quirked into a smug smile – unfortunately a very familiar look on your friend – “your loss.”

And with that tossed over his shoulder, he was stepping outside.

Shutting the door behind him, you listened to the sound of his engine beginning and rumbling away outside. A large breath left you.

He was right. You knew the real thing would be better, but you would take what you could get.

Your loss.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs always appreciated 💜

Again, to Eva, happy happy birthday!! In case you were interested, the prompts I was given were ‘dungeons and dragons’ (again haha) and ‘intelligent’, just like you! I love you lots and hope your day was great xx Also one last big thank you to @eternalseokjin​ for all the help with this, whether dnd related or just me ranting about the angst😅I appreciate it!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @kb-bangtanenthusiast​ @ttaechwita​ 

[thefinishpiece]

Remember The Rain

The lawn has gone again.

Memories of rain torn apart by thunder. Faces faded, nearly disappearing, forgotten to be full. And lullabies wading through storm, as if softness could overpower colossus.

Driving on a street, splashed in misplaced sea, wondering if we should count the lines or the shrimp. But it wasn’t a Friday, it was someday, somewhere, a place I must have been, to be here drenching my mind.

Hopelessly nostalgic. Maybe it is all display. Some theatrical thought for me to replay over and over, hypnotizing myself to believe in its own certainty. Life happened here—it cannot be erased.

And yet, where is it?

Down waterslides and carpools it must have been slithering there, through all these things, wet and lurking. Too young to be independent but old enough to feel like that’s what you wanted.

Drowning in a lunchroom, tables and chairs upturned in the flood, clouds of mustard and soggy biscuits floating the airwaves beside my face.

I am barely there. Hovering. My legs swirl in the deep so my body stays unsubmerged, but I can barely breathe. I see bodies like lily-pads—motionless, complacent. They have all perished but I remain. Just a remainder.

All this talk of I—memory can be so narcissistic. Spaces which you cling to specialness, all for yourself, as if they had been spaces designed just so you could occupy them. Holy relics. Sacred secrets. They told you something they told no one else.

But that must be wrong. Because these spaces go on without me. But they are impressions, furious and sensual in my mind, touching me and cooling me off. Maybe I’m the only one who thinks they’re special—that’s why they let me remember them.

And yet, where are they?

Integration is a slow process. One mired by mires of placement. If I could classify every object I ever felt, every feeling I ever expressed, every motion I ever carried, would I come any closer to being fulfilled by leaving it all behind?

Maybe the weight would disintegrate. All the things which shaped me and defined me would be conditionally completed, and I could be reborn in layers of new and future me. Like the only thing holding me back this whole time were the times before this. But—they appear as fantasy now.

You cannot be stymied by imaginary obstacles. Especially those you made yourself.

But I am so sure my memories are real—they must be real, or else what good is the rest of me? What definition can I chain around my neck and submit to? Do I bathe in clarity or despair?

Liquids inside me turn more murkier by the minute. Until I am a swamp walking upright; a swamp thing being upstanding. Until I am the steps of a temple becoming reef, stone becoming coral, flesh becoming seaweed.

Still I hang my head. Forget the rain falling in my eyes. I was blind once—never again.

And yet, here I am.

[furubaa]

Notes on Mushishi - Vol 1 & 2

This is the start of my personal notes on every Mushishi chapter (anime ep # in brackets). I’ve reread the manga over and over again looking for specific stories, so this is just for easier reference. 

VOLUME 1

1 - The Green Gathering (S1E1, The Green Seat)

Ginko learns of a boy who can create life by drawing or writing and decides to pay him a visit 

“The green here is so vivid it’s eerie”

A personal invitation to a banquet, presented with clear sake in a shallow green saucer - the exquisite scent of kouki, the water of life. 

The dull pain of being frozen mid-transformation, one foot out the door; realisation of emptiness, and yearning for a full exit from the world

Color seeping out of an untouched brush; power passed down the generations

Everything covered in moss where the kouki soaked in the ground

2 - The Soft Horns (S1E3, Tender Horns)

Ginko is summoned to cure villagers from hearing problems caused by Mushi, and to cure the village head’s grandson Maho, who has sprouted four horns on his forehead.

A quiet village deep in the mountains where even the wind does not pass; absolute silence on snowy nights, when even the sound of your voice disappears.

Bombarded with a flood of sounds, the spirit tires, and body weakens til death. The murmuring of a single Mushi is a microscopic sound, until made aware of the trillions of Mushi clamouring all over the world, calling to each other like echoes.

An intimate gesture of protection - the sound of your mother. A volcanic eruption seen long ago. The lava inside of you, dissolving everything.

3 - The Pillow Path (S1E4 The Pillow Pathway)

Ginko pays a visit to a man named Jin who has premonitions in his dreams as a result of a Mushi affliction caused by Imeno no Awai. 

4 - The Light in the Eyelids (S1E2 The Light of the Eyelid)

Ginko visits a girl named Sui, who is suffering from a Mushi affliction that has made her eyes sensitive to light.

“Behind your eyelid you have another eyelid.” 

There's a river of light flowing underground that illuminates even the pitch black; there has to be total, true darkness to see it. “Light particles come from very far away/ and they flow past me.” “Stretching out for eternity at your feet”

Ginko sitting on the opposite side of the river bank; a warning from a stranger.

“You spent too much time in the dark with Sui” ... Mushi that breed in the darkness. 

5 - The Traveling Bog (S1E5 The Traveling Swamp)

Ginko is traveling through the mountains to see his friend, Adashino. Along the way, he meets a girl named Io, who lives inside a swamp that is capable of moving by itself.

Ginko finding himself travelling in step with a swamp that sinks into the earth and then floats up over and over again, passing through the mountains

A girl sacrificed to save her village from a flood, wearing ceremonial robes; a bride presented to the water god, pushed off a cliff in a storm.

A large green thing that calmly rose up through the raging water; swimming at the bottom of a river that was overflowing its banks. It said, “You should continue to live.”

“When people drink them, their bodies become transparent... and then, they flow away.” Choosing to become Mushi is to exist between life and death; slowly wearing away at your human heart.

Following the journey of a ten thousand year old swamp to its death; moving towards the sea, the dying form of a liquid mushi. Accompanying it on its final journey.

“Swamps are born, eventually they stagnate, and when the universe they have contained within themselves ends... they get up on their own and start to move.”

VOLUME 2

6 - The Mountain Sleeps (S1E11 The Sleeping Mountain)

While traveling, Ginko passes through a town settled near a mountain. He learns that a Mushi Master is living on the mountain, but hasn't visited the village for quite some time, and every person who had been sent to find him has fallen ill and died.

“A smell both sweet and rancid that rises from the ground and touches each leaf. One by one. Coiling around them and choking their skin. A light vein, where the river of light flows.”

Ginko tapping into a mushi that acts as the mountain's nerves, sinking their wills into the plants and running around. 

“The water of life (...) Women bear children like cats or dogs; twins, triplets, or even quadruplets, abandoned in the mountains.”

A travelling Mushishi who puts his roots down. The one he loves committing an unforgivable act so that they can be married. Assuming the role of a slain mountain boar god; his bones will lie here. 

An aged man, summoning an immortal spirit to take his place of guardian forever - a necessary sacrifice to return the world to natural order.

7 - The Sea of Brushstrokes (S1E20 A Sea of Writings)

Ginko comes to a house which has a library full of mushi-related scrolls. There, he meets the girl who writes the scrolls, and hears the story of the curse that has been afflicting her family for generations.

A large dark crypt; an enormous library of scripts recording ancient history

Scribes cursed with immobility and marked for death, the only way to quell the Mushi is to seal them with words. A tradition of inviting travelling Mushishis to feed the writers myths in order for them to expel their words, physically manifesting them, an excruciating process for survival of self - and if not, the survival of your descendants. Plucking words and returning them to order, duty. Little by little, a receding scar. 

8 - They That Breathe Ephemeral Life (S1E6 Those Who Inhale the Dew)

Ginko's services are requested by a boy named Nagi, who lives on a distant island, to investigate the case of Akoya, a girl revered by the people as a "Living God".

A brief moment during the spring tide is the only time you can get to the island; only safe one day per month to take a boat out. a barren island with little soil, villagers surviving with moral support from their god. 

Tapping the center of the forehead with a needle, a curlicule of a mushi spiralling out

“When i was the Ikigami and aged when the sun set i could always shut my eyes and fall asleep feeling satisfied (...) But now my legs tremble at the immense amount of time ahead of me.” Living Mushi's life cycle of a single day - every second of every day experienced fresh, so much wonder you can't keep up. “My heart was always satisfied.”

When faced with tragedy, the girl finally chooses to return to the state of suspension - the luxury to forget and detach from mortal burden.

9 - Rain Comes and a Rainbow is Born (S1E7 Raindrops and Rainbows)

Ginko encounters a man named Koro, who has a strange habit of pursuing rainbows, and helps him find one particular rainbow that he is looking for - the Kouda.

A father delirious for rain - a strange man running around happily, and a mysterious rainbow dancing in odd shapes. A body that thirsts - “I miss that rainbow so much… I can’t stand it.” 

A boy who runs away to escape the burden of a dying father; to prove his worth and his father’s.

Ginko who must travel constantly, taking a break by finding purpose in small goals - You can’t live only for the sake of living; rest is essential. 

A natural phenomena created from light and imbued with kouki - “There's a reason they occur, but they have no purpose - existing only to keep flowing. Nothing can affect them, but they affect those around them, and then they leave.”

* 10 - The Veil Spore (S1E21 Cotton Changeling)

A couple summons Ginko to investigate their sick child, Watahiko, who has developed green spots all over his body. The father explains that the child didn’t look human when born - instead, it was a strange green mass that swiftly escaped. A year later, he found a baby under the house.

A wedding procession that passes through a forest - “A green stain on my cotton wedding gown.” A boy born green and formless, that slipped out and under the house. The main body; a mat of spores spreading under the house, dirt that wriggles under the sun.

One year later, it sends out a human-mushroom; every half year, the same child born again and again. Harmless children joined together at the root, that exist only to collect nutrients, that die and spit out seeds. “Mushi that wear the skin of your dead child.”

The human instinct to kill everything we don’t understand.

A baby with a body that grows faster than the mind. Children that evolve rapidly - “After learning words i forgot how.. I forgot how.” The primal instinct for survival lost. The cost of intelligence.

The Watahiki, when faced with danger, disconnects its children from the root, in an attempt to save at least the seeds - the children change form and enter a long dormant period.

An organism that strays from its recorded life cycle. 

Not that I’m doing this for public consumption (who even is going to read all this) but anyways FYI I’ve got structured notes on the next volumes in my drafts & if I ever get round to finishing all of them they’ll be tagged as #mushishi notes 

[danascully77]

X-Files Secret Santa Gift

Hi, @frettingoverthis! I was your secret Santa for the @thexfilesnet Christmas event! As you requested, I wrote a MSR fanfic based on the early years. It’s a bit silly, a bit smutty, and a bit mushy. I hope you like it! <3 (Also, I’m down to write another chapter with more smutty bits if you’d like). Happy holidays!

By the time they get back to the motel, Scully is absolutely freezing. She had blasted the heat in the car, but the cold air has settled into her bones and her body is visibly shivering as she heads to her motel door.

“Shit.” She curses under her breath as she drops her keys, her hand too shaky to navigate the key into the lock.

“I got it.” Mulder is behind her almost instantly, grabbing her keys from the door and nudging her out of the way with his hip.

A blush settles across her cold cheeks and she feels a tingle of warmth for the first time in hours. Spending a night on a rock in the middle of frigid water after abandoning a sinking boat was not what she expected from this investigation, but then again, none of Mulder’s cases ever are to be expected.

“Thanks.” She mumbles as Mulder swings her door open for her. A pout settles over her features when she spots Queequeg’s food and bowl near the frame of the door.

“I am sorry about your dog.” He looks almost bashful apologizing.

“It’s not your fault. I dropped his leash.” She admits, holding out her hand for her motel keys.

Mulder nods and hands them back to her as a harsh shiver races up her spine. He knows better than to address what Scully would consider a weakness and instead asks her about food. When she confirms he nods and takes a step toward his door. “I’ll order pizza.”

“I’ll be over after I shower.” Scully smiles, shutting her door to see a small grin on Mulder’s lips.

The past year has been a year of growth for her and Mulder and she lets a smile of her own grace her features as she strips her wet clothes off of her body.

She makes quick work of ringing out her wet clothing and hanging them over the edge of the tub so that they can dry, and eagerly steps into the heated shower. A sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, easing some of the tension in her shoulders from sitting hunched over most of the night to conserve body heat.

When she finishes her shower, she pulls on a silky pajama set and wraps a heavy robe overtop before quickly drying her hair. It’s a bit wild and unruly, but she has become comfortable enough with Mulder to not fret too much about it.

Once finished, Scully steps outside, shutting her motel door to walk down the sidewalk to Mulder’s room. This is one of the rare motels that doesn’t have adjoining doors, a recent staple in their travels. She knocks once and hears him call “it’s open,” before stepping inside.

“Perfect timing. The pizza just got here.” Mulder smiles and waves his hand to the pizza box on the small table in the room. He is already eating a slice, sitting along the left side of the bed. She realizes he must have also showered because his hair is slightly damp and he is no longer smells like swamp water. Her eyes try not to linger on his t-shirt and sweatpants clad body as she toes off her shoes.

After grabbing her own slice, she sits in the loveseat adjacent to his bed. His room is slightly cooler than hers and another small shiver tingles through her body.

“Still cold?”

“Hmm?” She asks around a mouthful of food, unaware that Mulder had been studying her for the past few minutes. “A bit. The shower helped, but I can’t seem to shake the chill.”

“Come here.” Mulder pulls the covers aside and pats the spot next to him. An eyebrow arches on her face, eliciting a chuckle from Mulder. “Don’t worry, agent Scully. I promise to stay on top of the covers.”

The grin he shoots her way ensures he will be respectful and Scully gives him an eyeroll even as she stands, bringing her pizza with her, and sliding into the bed beside him. She allows him to push the covers over her lap and tries to ignore the spark of liquid heat that shoots up her leg from where his hand brushes her thigh over the covers.

Mulder turns the television on to a random lifetime movie and for the next few minutes they eat in content silence. He abandons his position on the bed to grab another slice before returning to his place over the covers.

Scully can feel the heat emitting from his body and tries to subtly slide closer to him. If he notices he doesn’t say anything, letting her brush their arms together.

Licking her fingers clean of any lingering grease, Scully shuffles lower in the bed, tugging the covers higher on her body. The rational part of her brain is telling her to leave his room, but warmth is finally starting to seep into her chilled frame and she can’t bring herself to move.

Instead, she remains tucked in the sheets and absentmindedly watches the program.

A quiet yawn slips from her lips and she feels her eyes fluttering shut. Outside of their motel, the beginnings of daylight is making its presence known to the world, but neither of them notice. The thick blinds are drawn shut and Scully feels the efforts of staying up all night to fight a giant alligator catching up to her.

Mulder watches her out of the corner of his eye.

He is shocked by how young she looks. He knows of course, that she is still in her twenties, but outside of her pantsuits her youth is impossible to ignore. She looks so tiny and small wrapped in her robe, her blow-dried hair curled around her cheeks.

Just as he is sure that she has dozed off, her sleepy voice startles him out of his admiration of her youth.

“Would you really eat me if you had to?”

Mulder’s cheeks flush as his mind takes a dirty route involuntarily and he is grateful her eyes are still closed. He knows she would have given him hell if she had noticed the innuendo shining behind his eyes.

“Well, it’s just like you said. Survival instincts and all that.”

He turns just in time to see her bottom lip pucker out in a pout. The lack of sleep is making it hard for her to maintain her aura of professionalism and her true reactions are flashing like a neon sign across her face. Mulder relishes in the chance to see casual Scully.

Her eyes flutter open sensing his attention and she trains her sleepy vision on him. “I would have attempted fishing before I ate you.”

Mulder watches with giddy mirth as a cheeky grin takes up the expanse of Scully’s face and she tucks her chin down to her neck in amusement.

“God you’re cute.” The comment slips from Mulder’s lips before he can stop himself and he immediately realizes it is the wrong thing to say. Her smile disappears and she pushes herself to sit straighter against the headboard.

“I should go back to my room.”

Mulder watches as she moves the cover off of her lap and immediately tries to back-track. “Scully, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mulder, it’s late.” She checks the clock next to his bed. “Or really early. I should get some sleep before we have to check out.”

“Wait.” Mulder says again and leans over her lap to grab her hip, keeping her from sliding out of the bed. “Stay. The bed is already warm and you just stopped shivering.”

Scully’s hesitant, arched eyebrow tells Mulder everything he needs to know. He smiles and leans back to his place on the bed, holding his hands up next to his chest in a mock surrender pose.

“I’ll be a gentleman. Scout’s honor.” He senses she is still uncertain and drops his hands to his lap in a moment of honesty. “I don’t plan on sleeping until we are back home. I’m too riled up.”

“Still thinking of Big Blue?” Scully smirks, the first sign that her resolve is slipping.

“Maybe.” He grins back at her.

Despite her better judgement, Scully slides back under the covers. “I’ll stay. But only because it is warm here.” She ends her statement with a firm nod of her head as if solidifying her justification. Which she’s justifying by attributing them to lack of sleep.

“Of course.” Mulder says and hides his smirk by biting his bottom lip.

Scully takes a moment to situate herself under the covers and cradles her head on one of the pillows, facing away from Mulder. “Do you have an alarm set?”

“Yes, Dana.” Mulder teases.

Scully rolls her eyes, but doesn’t reply.

In truth, she has no idea why she is staying in his room. It goes against FBI protocols and is dangerous territory for self-control. Scully ran from a risky relationship, having joined the FBI to halt the irrational decision making in her personal love life.

Yet, staying in his motel room, in his bed, is only proving that she hasn’t run far enough. Mulder’s cheeky spooky charm ignites hot desire within her and she longs for her reckless college self to take over and jump his bones.

Instead, she huddles deeper under the covers and wills her body to go to sleep. She will just have to settle for being close to him.

By focusing on his body heat warming her backside, Scully feels the exhaustion of the night weighing her down and within a few more minutes she is fast asleep.

To Mulder’s credit he does keep his hands off of her but as the credits roll on the lifetime movie, Mulder tucks his legs under the covers feeling a shiver in his body. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but a thirty minutes later he is in dreamland.

The sound of the alarm wakes Mulder and he quickly reaches over to switch it off. He feels stiff, having fallen asleep upright against the headboard, and as he moves his hands over his lap to push the covers back he lets out a soft gasp.

The warmth in his lap is not from the blankets, but rather is emitting from the redhead fast asleep on his thighs.

In her sleep, Scully had rolled over and wrapped her body around his. Her head is perched on his lap, her arms encircling his waist, and her legs are tucked around his own. A small piece of her hair is blowing up and down with her breath as it dangles in her face and Mulder gently flicks it behind her ear.

He sends a silent prayer up to Scully’s god that she is facing away from his lap, his morning wood hard and rigid behind the back of her head and he knows he needs to extract her without waking her to save himself from embarrassment.

Mulder gently presses his hands against her arms, intending to pry her from his body, but the action causes Scully to stir in her sleep and bury herself further into his lap. Her head nuzzles against his cock and Mulder has to bite his lip to keep from grunting.

Attempting to push her off once more, she reacts the same way and her arms tighten around his waist.

“Shit.” Mulder curses under his breath and sinks back against the headboard. If he knew Scully wouldn’t be equally as embarrassed to find herself in this predicament, Mulder would find their current situation amusing and possibly adorable.

Staring down at the redhead, Mulder feels his cock jump against her skull and clenches his fists.

“Now is not the time.” Mulder chastises himself. He’ll think about this later tonight when he is alone with his hand down his boxers. Right now, he needs to get her off of him.

Mulder carefully pushes the blankets off of their bodies, exposing just how intwined around him she truly is. Her shorter legs are tucked up and between his own, her knee possessively placed across his thighs.

“Scully.” Mulder whispers, gently shaking her shoulder. “I need you to roll over.”

“Mmmm five more minutes.” Her sleepy form answers, nuzzling closer. It is clear she isn’t quite conscious yet, trapped between reality and dreamland.

“You can keep sleeping. I just need to stand up.” He tries again.

“Warm.” She grumbles.

“I’ll tuck you back in, just roll over.” Mulder’s attempt to reason with a half-asleep Scully fails miserably as her half-conscious mind processes the words. She does roll over, but not how he intended her to.

Instead, she flips herself the other direction and presses her face against the length of his erection covered by his sweatpants.

The movement makes Mulder freeze in surprise and he stares down at her with wide eyes. He is afraid to move, worried that she’ll wake up to realize just how close her lips are to his cock.

His hands hover in the air over her body and he rolls his eyes. “So much for god answering people’s prayers.”

“Scully, roll onto your back.” His attempt falls on deaf ears, Scully having already fallen back to sleep. Her mouth is open slightly and Mulder watches as a small trail of drool drops onto his sweatpants.

He has to throw his head back and shut his eyes for a moment to keep the visual of Scully coating his cock with her spit from his mind.

Glancing back down to his lap, Mulder assesses the situation once more. He thinks that if he can quickly throw her towards the center of the bed that she’ll be shocked enough to be able to slip out before she becomes fully aware of her surroundings. Then he’ll just throw a “good morning” in her direction and act like he has no idea why she was startled awake.

She might ask questions later, but it will give Mulder enough time to disappear into the bathroom and adjust his cock to save them from embarrassment.

He nods to himself to affirm his plan and on an intake of breath, Mulder puts his plan into action.

It almost works.

He manages to throw her toward the center of the bed with a quick thrust of his hips, but what Mulder didn’t account for was Scully’s reflexes. As her body is whipped over to the side, her arms lock tighter around his waist as her body thinks it is being thrown over a ledge.

She awakens with a gasp and as Mulder tries to extract himself from her grasp, he feels himself being tugged forward. The action lands him half over top of her body with his cock directly in front of her face. His hand braces behind her head on the bed to keep from pressing himself into her and he holds perfectly still.

It takes her a second to realize her predicament, but once she does she gasps loudly and pushes herself away from him, extracting her body from underneath his body.

“Mulder?” She questions after there is a safe distance between them on the bed and they are both sitting up, facing the other.

“I wasn’t trying… you were on my lap… I just wanted to stand up.” He fumbles, face turning a light shade of red.

“Are you blushing?” Scully grins at him. It’s one of the first times she has seen him flustered and it surprises her.

Mulder opens and closes his mouth twice, her sudden shift in questioning taking him off guard. “You’re not mad?” He ventures a question back to her.

“As curious as I am about how exactly we ended up like that and how you got under the covers…” she trails off with an eyebrow arch in his direction, “… I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He asks again, skeptical about her reaction.

“Mulder, I trust you. I know you weren’t trying to do anything to me.”

His eyes go wide. He hadn’t even considered their position as being anything more than embarrassing, but it’s true. She could have thought he was sexually assaulting her and the idea of that makes him want to puke.

“I would never.” His tone is stern and apologetic.

“I know.” She smiles and reaches across the bed to place her hand on his arm.

Mulder nods and looks down at her hand on his arm before they both glance down to his lap. His erection is clearly visible, tenting his gray sweatpants.

“I…” Mulder starts, reaching down to adjust himself over the top of his pants. As he does he accidently makes eye contact with her and his sentence cuts off in his throat.

“It’s okay.” Her voice sounds raspy to her own ears and she clears her throat to gain some dominance over the situation. “It’s a natural reaction. Many men experience morning erections due to…” “Scully, please stop talking.” He cuts her off.

“Right. Sorry.” She stammers and stands off the bed. “I should go change and collect my things. I’ll meet you at the car.”

Without further communication, she bolts from the room and Mulder sighs. His hand flies down his boxers and he flops across the bed, grunting as his hand makes quick work up and down his shaft.

“I forgot my… shoes.” Scully stops, mid-step in his doorway her voice squeaking on the last word.

“Jesus, Scully!” Mulder groans and jumps off the bed, his hand shooting out of his sweatpants, snapping his boxers against his hips.

“Sorry… I… I didn’t think…” She stutters and Mulder groans again. “Right, right. Going.” Grabbing her shoes, she darts from the door again, slamming it on its hinges.

“Fuck.” Mulder groans and runs the hand that wasn’t down his pants across his face.

The car ride back home is tense and awkward. Neither of them address the elephant in the car and Scully is pretty sure this is the sole reason that article 314 of the FBI handbook forbids agents fraternizing in motel rooms. Nothing good comes out of it.

As Mulder pulls up outside of her house she feels the tension thick in the air. She doesn’t want to leave things like this between them, but isn’t sure how to broach the topic.

“I’m sorry I put us in this predicament.” Mulder’s voice startles Scully out of her internal query.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have insisted you stay in my room.” The sincerity in his voice unnerves Scully. She is pretty sure she hasn’t heard this tone from him since their very first case together when he told her about Samantha.

“Why did you want me to stay?” Scully makes sure to lower her tone as well, as if afraid of scaring a small kitten away.

“It was just nice to not be alone for once.”

The answer comes so quickly and quietly that Scully thinks she imaged it at first. But a glance at his face tells her she hasn’t misheard. Mulder is looking at the steering wheel, a nervous expression across his features.

Scully wonders, not for the first time, what exactly happened in Mulder’s past relationships to make him so hesitate about emotional conversations.

Needing to comfort him, she reaches across the car to place her hand on his thigh. The touch makes him turn toward her with a reserved expression on his face. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I know I crossed a line today.” Mulder responses, not believing her.

“Mulder, we both did. It’s not like I exactly put up a fight when you suggested to stay in your room.”

A look of realization settles on his features. “Why did you stay?”

It’s Scully’s time to blush softly and she tries to retract her hand from his thigh, but his larger one suddenly drops from the steering wheel to hold it in place. The action traps her hand and her eyes lock with his.

“It was nice to not be alone.” She echoes his reasoning.

They both smile gently at the other before Mulder brings her hand up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it. Scully flushes a darker red and is grateful for the darkness of the vehicle.

“See you Monday?” Mulder husks, finally letting her have her hand back.

“Monday.” Scully confirms and opens the car door. She slides out and shuts the door before walking around the front to head into her apartment.

Two steps away from the vehicle she turns around and waits until Mulder rolls his window down.

“Everything okay?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to come up? I think there is beer in my fridge.”

She doesn’t even need to hold the breath she inhales because Mulder answers almost instantly. “Chinese tonight?”

“I’ll order it once we get upstairs.”

Mulder rolls the window up, turns the car off, and follows Scully into her apartment building. Neither is sure what the night entails, but one thing is certain: they will not be alone tonight.

[trixree]

Trixreeeeee! I am high key obsessed with your stories, they are SO well written! You have an amazing talent for writing and story building! & your OCs give me LIFE so pls pls pls talk about Ditz and Clash and Bugs and Tricky and Bend and even Beeps! I want to give them all a gentle smooch on the forehead. Or talk about anything you want! (also, I hope your allergies clear up soon <3)

Awwww thank you anon!!! You're so sweet, I'm cryin <3 A STUPIDLY LONG rant about Cursed Squad (+ Beeps!!!) below the cut:

Ditz ends up having a real knack for using the Force to communicate with animals. In a lot of ways, Ditz ends up reminding Obi-Wan of Qui-Gon with his skill in the living Force. It becomes a running joke that, whenever Ditz has seemingly disappeared from base camp, all one has to do to find him is shake the nearby trees. He will absolutely be in the branches talking to the birds, squirrels, etc., and if you shake hard enough, he will fall out, Force be dammed. This boy is so fucking clumsy.

Clash never really stops worrying about Ditz. The constant low-grade anxiety for Ditz's safety isn't so easily banished just because Ditz has an actual teacher now. So, Clash ends up forming a close bond with Cody, who is often the only one that can convince him to sit the fuck down and breathe, vod. Cody has a lot of practice being calm in the face of Crazy Force-shit and he's happy to share these teachings with his vod'ika.

Bugs is a fucking mess. Like, one of the very first things I decided on for his character is that This Motherfucker is going to draw his blaster on a superior at some point. Out of everyone in the squad, even more so than Clash, Bughead would be the first to say "fuck it, lets desert and go start a band or something." After the events of the story, now that the squad's basic safety needs have been met, Bughead is free to be Fucking Unhinged with 0 self awareness as to how Actually Batshit Crazy He Is. I imagine that, at some point, literally This happens because Ditz was sad about leaving his latest animal friend behind after a campaign ended:

Like I said, now that the Basic Safety Needs have been met, the squad is actually free to start down a path of self exploration. For Bughead, this means no longer censoring how bananas he is. For Clash, this means finding an ori'vod and getting taken under his wing. For Ditz, this means very circumspect Jedi training. Tricky starts down a path of Gender-Fuckery. He keeps a collection of nail polish under his bunk and no one is really sure how he got it in the first place. He changes his nail color every two days, even while on active campaign. No one knows how he manages to do this. Clash saw him do cat-eye liquid eyeliner with the edge of a vibroblade while standing knee-deep in a swamp once. It was honestly terrifying. He's a he/they now. Be in awe of them.

Bend is the only """normal""" one. All of the shinies think he's a terrifying hard-ass because of his resting-bitch-face, riiiight up until Bend coaxes them through their first post-battle shakes with his steady hands and gentle voice. The 212th CMO takes Bend on as an apprentice. Obi-Wan approves him for extra training back on Kamino and Bend comes back with his official medic certification. The whole squad is ridiculously proud.

Beeps. Beeps. [Deep inhale.] If I ever write another story in this universe, it will be about Beeps.

After the events of the fic, Beeps continues to serve as Krell's second in command. It's exactly as miserable and demeaning as you think it would be. But he stays, because he has a duty to his vode. But then, one of their shinies gets caught in a detonation. This single shiny is the only survior of the accident, but he loses his right arm to the explosion. The troopers in Krell's company don't get prosthetics. They get decommissioned. And Beeps looks at this baby-faced kid who lost everything and can't bear it for a second longer. He takes the shiny and runs. I won't say more, in case I do end up writing a sequel some day, but that's what I imagine for Beeps.

[ds-ts-smut-fics]

Far From Home [Chapter Four]

Chapter One

Read on Ao3

Synopsis: Remus and Logan arrive at the swamp and find things are not as they expected. 

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, explicit sex scene, demonic possession, DnD-typical violence, lmk if i missed anything!

Words: 6,422

A/N: Explicit sex scene at the very end of this chapter, there'll be a paragraph in bold where it starts so you can stop reading there, you won't miss anything past the sex. Also: Remus and Logan are level 6 after this chapter! I gave Remus another level in Bard, and he chose the College of Whispers per Adelaide's request, and as far as I know, Logan picked another level in Monk. I honestly didn't expect this battle to be so difficult, I almost killed the both of us several times :)

It only took half an hour to arrive at the outer edges of the swamp. 

Remus hopped off Juniper and walked a little ahead so he could warn Logan to get her out of the way if needed. The swamp was quiet aside from the occasional buzzing or calling of insects, and the gloopy, sucking footsteps of their group. The fog was too dense to see very far ahead. 

Making a small face, he ducks a hanging vine. "I hate it already… any signs yet?" 

“Yeah, I’m picking up some tracks,” he murmured, eyebrow furrowed in confusion. “Didn’t you say the hag is a little girl?” 

"They usually attain full form at 12 or 13, kinda a shitty thing really, not becoming an adult human but a disgusting creature. Why?" Squinting, he tries to see what Remus does. 

“These footprints are huge.” He looked up and tried to see through the fog to no avail. “How big do hags become?” 

"Like, human adult size I think? How big are the prints… Oh dear, was she coming here because her mother was here and is teaching her to hunt?!"

“What?” Remus laughed and looked up. “What are you talking about?”

"Sorry… My mind jumped to terrible scenarios of death. Show me what you mean, Remus?" Sliding down carefully, he waits for Remus to point out what he's seen.

“I still don’t… Really know what you mean, but…” He laughed and squatted down to one of the footprints. “This. Can you tell what that is?” 

"Oh dear… That's not a hag… That's a giant of some variety." He looks around them carefully. "We should not go that way maybe?"

Remus pulled out the map of the swamp given to them by Lucinda. He squinted at it. “The Blackmarsh Ruins are in the centre of the swamp… We can try to go around but I don’t want to waste too much time. Maybe we could leave Juniper here and try to stay hidden?”

Humming, Logan nods. "Probably for the best… I don't want her getting hurt." 

Remus pet her for a moment and kissed her snout, then helped Logan down. 

She nudges Remus gently before wandering to the edge of the swamp to find some grass to graze on. Logan smiles as he leans on Remus gently. "Mmm… So, lead the way, my dear?"  

“Yeah. Get down.” 

They crept close to the dense foliage, using the fog as cover, as they headed towards the ruins. Remus frowned in confusion as they stopped about ten feet away from tall, rickety walls. They were haphazardly made with jagged, cut tree trunks and nails sticking out or bent. 

Two half-ogres towered near an entrance, grunting at each other, each brandishing an axe with huge blades and fairly short hilts. 

Remus swallowed and gripped onto Logan’s arm to keep him from continuing. 

A moment later, another half-ogre came out of the entrance. Remus held his breath. Eyes following Remus' line of sight, Logan ducks a little more, trying to figure out a way past. This isn't good… they're too big, too many to try and fight.

Remus gripped Logan’s hand, mind reeling with fragments of plans. 

The half-ogres grunted at each other for a few minutes, before a fourth one came out, snapping and yelling at the other three. 

Stroking Remus' knuckles, Logan points backwards, gesturing for a silent retreat. Remus looked at him in surprise and shook his head. 

Arching an eyebrow, Logan raises 4 fingers questions in his eyes. You think we can take all 4, Rem? 

Under his breath, Remus snapped, “I’m not leaving.” 

He looked back to the half-ogres, only to find one staring right at him. He ripped his hand from Logan’s and sprinted away, closer to the wall. 

Logan curses softly, creeping closer and aiming to position himself behind the group that is now thoroughly distracted by Remus. 

Remus pulled out his sickles as one of the half-ogres pointed him out and the others ran towards him. Adelaide’s voice crept under Remus’ as he narrowed his eyes and snapped under his breath. One of them stopped and flinched. It roared in frustration and shook his head. 

It charged at Remus and attacked with the battleaxe, Remus jumping out of the way before it could hit. Another one came up right behind the first, cutting a slash across Remus’ arm. Remus grit his teeth and hissed in pain. 

Spotting Logan, the fourth ogre points and bellows before hurling a javelin at the new opponent, missing by a wide margin, but alerting his counterparts that there are two attackers. The last ogre decides to swing at Logan with his battle axe but gets too excited and slips on a patch of muddy grass, missing as well.

Logan grins, deciding to strike the one that had attacked Remus with his sword, slicing in deeply and grinning widely as the blood sprays. Remus sliced twice with his sickles, letting out an angry yell. One slammed hard into a half-orgre’s face, leaving a large, bleeding crack, his other sickle flying over the ogre’s head. 

The half-ogre grunted and straightened itself up, its body already battered, bruised, and bloody. It brought its battleaxe over Remus’ head, only for its eyes to roll back as it stumbled, the axe landing harmlessly in the ground. The half-ogre next to it ran to attack Remus as well, and tripped over the fallen axe, landing on the grass. 

Axe now in hand, the one that had tried to javelin Remus swipes at Logan, deciding to avoid the dark little fury for now, missing again in his shock over two comrades tripping over themselves. 

The last one also swings at Logan, hitting him hard in the side and making him wheeze out a shocked breath before turning to swing back and return the favor. 

Remus’ eyes widened, fear jolting through him. He dashed between the two ogres’ legs, yelling as an axe came down on the back of his calf, and brought his sickles down on the ogre that hit Logan. The ogre yelled in rage and pain, falling to its knees and struggling to stand.

The half-ogre that had gotten Remus’ leg turned with thunderous stomps. It bought its axe up, wheezing through pained breaths, and lost hold of its axe. It screamed as the axe fell onto its foot. The last ogre snapped a few things in Giant and readied a javelin. 

The javelin soared through the air and buried itself in Logan’s arm, poking out the other side as he curses and staggers a little. 

The healthiest half ogre grins and swings at Logan hard, axe digging in and sending him to the ground with a spray of blood, just barely conscious. The last ogre claps its hands when it goes to swing, dropping its axe on its own foot. 

Logan pants hard, hand glowing as he heals himself a little with ki and fumbles for a potion of healing, drinking deeply. Remus fumbled for his own health potion, taking the biggest vial. Remus’ wounds healed over, the red liquid glowing under his skin as it rushed through his body. He ripped a small pouch from his belt and tossed it, a thousand shiny metal balls rolling over the ground. Remus forced an encouraging smile to Logan. 

One of the half-ogres jumped out of the way just as the ball bearings came out, the other charging at Logan and slipping hard, landing on his axe. He bled out on the ground. 

One of the ogres struggled to its feet, panting and huffing in rage. It turned to Remus and brought its axe up to attack, and Remus easily stepped out of the way. 

Shifting carefully the other two remaining ogres stand, the first not caring and running at Remus but his wild swing misses and he falls again with a heavy thud. The last one is a bit more careful, swinging at Logan who's a closer target, but he also misses.

Logan chuckles, using the panicked swing to slice under its arm and send it to the ground.  Remus took a second with heavy breathing to take in the situation, the half-ogre at the brink of death, the ones beat up and staggering, the last who hadn’t been hit once. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, panic coursing through his system. 

Let me help. 

“Fuck off, Adelaide,” he groaned under his breath, and brandished his sickles. 

He ran to one of the half-ogres attacking Logan and leapt, landing on the ogre’s back and bringing his sickles down hard. The sickles squelched into its head, and all of its muscles tensed and locked under Remus’ thighs. Remus landed on his feet as the ogre fell, dead. 

The ogre with the crack to the face snarled at Remus. It turned to leave, and Remus sliced his sickle out in panic, slashed it in the back of the head but it kept running and disappeared into the walled ruins. 

"That can't be good…" Logan hums softly, watching the other ogre slowly back up to follow. "Give chase or let them be?"

Remus growled in frustration. “We won’t be able to catch up, let’s finish this!” 

Logan nods, sending one of his darts at the slower ogre, hitting it hard as he runs their way. 

Grinning wickedly, Logan nods, tossing another dart and whooping softly as it drops dead, skidding to a halt to look for the one that got all the way to the ruins. All that laid ahead was the sunken, rotting frames of the old buildings. Sloppy footsteps trailed towards the most put-together building in sight, an inn half-sunken into the mud. 

Remus got on his hands and knees to find his ball bearings. “How are you feeling?” 

Kneeling to help, he hums, assessing. "Not dead yet, you?" 

Finding the majority of them and securing them back on his belt, Remus rolled his shoulders and cracked his back. “Would’ve been dead if not for that potion. Fine now, though. If you’re good, we should keep moving in case the ogre gets back with more help.” 

"I hear that loud and clear…" Touching his chest, he uses his ki once more to patch up more of his wounds. "I know I almost passed out myself." 

Remus grabbed his hand and stared at him seriously. “You can leave. Go back to Juniper and wait in town, let me handle this myself.” 

Squeezing Remus' hand, he shakes his head, lifting it to kiss him softly. "I can't do that. I promised to be your support, dear. We promised to go after this sea hag together and that's what we'll do." 

Remus took in a shaky breath and sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

Remus crouched down as they moved through the ruins, heading slowly towards the inn. Remus stopped a few times to listen, but there was only silence. Logan slides along carefully, martial training helping him to blend into the scenery as he keeps an eye out, cleaning his weapons after tugging the darts out of the one he felled with them.

Remus gestured for Logan to wait as he scouted forward, creeping up to one of the broken windows. He peeked inside. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

Two sea hags hid behind the counter, just barely poking out. Neither of them had silver hair. The half-ogre that had gotten away stood poised by the door, battleaxe raised. One of the hags narrowed her eyes and her gaze snapped to Remus’. 

“Motherfucker,” he snapped under his breath and pulled out his sickles. 

Without waiting for Logan, he kicked the door down and attacked the half-ogre. Remus barely managed to miss, yelling in frustration. Remus slashed with his sickles again, blood pouring from the half ogre’s wounds. 

Whistling softly, Logan leans in and stabs at the ogre, sending it down in a gurgle of blood, dead. As Logan came into the inn, Silver dropped from the ceiling in an attempt to grapple him. Logan leapt out of the way just in time for her to land on the ground and snarl at him. 

“You bitch, you should’ve never come here,” she snapped. 

The two sea hags hidden behind the counter jumped at the sight of their dead bodyguard. The one with long, dripping wet seaweed hair read from an old book, the other two joining in on the chants. A cone of sickening green light launched out to Logan. 

The smaller, thinner hag snarled at Remus and charged him with her claws. Remus ducked out of the way with a gasp. Remus came at her with his sickles, growling in frustration. She hissed as a cut opened on her cheek. 

Slicing at the closest antagonist, Logan hums. "I'm not a bitch, I'm a monk!" 

Silver leapt at him, blinded by her rage and slashing uselessly with her claws. The two hags in the bag chanted together, and a blast of lightning shot out towards Remus. Remus’ eyes widened but he couldn’t jump away in time. His entire body convulsed, his skin smoking, and he fell unconscious on the ground. 

"Remus!!" Logan screams out and slashes at Silver harshly. 

Remus fought to get up, to open his eyes, his entire body heavy and burning. He let out a little whimper, his fingers twitching. 

Kneeling, Logan takes his hand channeling his ki to help him heal. The hags’ laughter echoed through the inn, their chants growing louder. Silver grinned and held her hand out, fingers spread, and clenched her fist. 

Her grin faded as Logan straightened up, the spell a fail. The long-haired hag leapt over the counter and tossed the book to the thinner one, tearing into Logan’s throat with her claws. The third one flipped through the book in panic. 

Remus gasped and sat up, looking around and taking in the situation. “Fuck,” he groaned, and staggered to his feet. “You ugly, evil fuck,” he snapped at the thin hag, casting vicious mockery. 

The hag dropped the book to hold her head, yelling. 

Panting a little, Logan takes stock, striking at Silver with his sword and fist, slicing her up and pushing her back away from him a little. 

Silver’s eyes locked on Logan, then slipped over his shoulder, at the tiefling spitting magic insults at her mom and sister. She pushed past Logan with a growl and lunged for Remus. 

The mother hag glared Remus and slashed at him as well, bringing him to his knees and wheezing for breath. The sister chanted quietly, eyes focused on Logan. She growled in frustration as Logan once again refused the Hold Person. 

Remus crawled backwards, back against a soggy wall, and fumbled for the last health potion in his bandolier. He gulped it down and chucked away the empty vial, leaving it shattered on the ground. Slicing out at Silver with a small grunt, Logan takes out and chugs his potion, straightening up a little more as he drops the vial. She spat blood on the ground, panting heavily, hair ragged. 

Silver turned and rushed for the exit. Logan stepped in front of her and pushed her back, his and Remus’ blades sinking into her. back and stomach. She gasped and tensed, then fell over, dead. 

“NO!” The mother hag heaved for breath, staring at her dead daughter. 

The sister hag chanted angrily, the mother quickly joining in. 

Remus’ eyes dilated. He swore his hands were still at his side but he watched them bring up his sickles and decapitate Logan, listened to Adelaide’s laughter echo as Logan’s head rolled. He stumbled back, as far back as he could, pressing against the wall. 

"Remus? C'mon… Whatever you saw, it's not real!" Stepping in towards the hags, Logan growls softly, stalking them and swinging as soon as they're in range, missing due to his rage but he gets her on the backswing across the face. 

“You killed my daughter,” she hissed, the sister chanting in the background. “You will regret that!” 

"So far… not really?" He smirks as he shakes off another wave of magic with a laugh.

She pushed past him with a growl, the sister following with their book. 

She screamed as Logan’s short sword speared through the pages. He ripped it up, splitting the book in half. She fumed, but her and her remaining daughter rushed out and disappeared into the fog. 

Remus panted, chest heaving, blinking frantically and looking around. 

Turning to Remus, Logan tries to calm him. "Remus? Can you hear me, hun?" 

“Logan?” He panted. He reached up and cupped Logan’s face, then sighed in relief, pressing their foreheads together. 

Wrapping Remus in a hug, he nods, nuzzling softly. "Yeah, baby… I'm right here." 

Remus looked up. “Where did they go?” 

Gesturing with his sword, he hums. "That way… I did get a parting shot on that book they were always flipping through though!" 

Remus dropped his head on Logan’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he sighed. “They got away.” 

Stroking Remus' hair, Logan nods. "I let them go because you are more important to me… We killed their guards and Silver… We can heal up and track them. They can't have gone far!"

He nodded. “Yeah. Have you found the prisoners?” 

"Why don't we look now? Take a quick search through on our way?" 

Remus pushed himself to his feet. He pressed two fingers to his own forehead, and two to Logan’s. 

Leaning into the touch happily, Logan sighs softly, feeling strength return and wounds heal up more. "Mmm, kiss me, dear one?"

He hesitated. He kissed Logan’s cheek, then said, “We have a job to do.” He squeezed his hand and searched through the inn. 

"I know…. Just had to reassure myself that you're here and safe." He helps check the area with a small smile.

Remus still reeling from his hallucinations, struggling to stop the tremor in his hand, it was mostly up to Logan to find the kidnapped villagers. He quickly came across a locked door. 

Remus came up with a frown. He reached into his skirt for his thieves’ tools. He gets it open quickly, and a thick, heavy stench rolled out. 

Gagging a little, Logan chokes quietly. "Oh dear… That can't be good."

Remus grimaced as he stared into the room. Amongst the dozens of dead bodies were four live ones, two small children, a woman, and a man. 

Logan offers his hands out to help them out of the room. "I promise you're safe now."

The group of them stumbled away from the bodies, all dirty and half-starved, and fell into Logan’s and Remus’ arms. Remus fumbled for his waterskin as Adelaide cackled, poked fun at their expressions and appearances. Remus grimaced and helped the children drink. 

Offering some rations from his belt pouch, Logan makes sure the ones that came to him have water as well, almost chuckling as the boy that resembles Ginger touches his horns. "You seem to be a hit with the small ones again, darling!"

Remus blushed. “Let’s get them to Juniper and back to town.” 

Remus let the small ones climb onto him, Ginger’s brother riding on his back while the girl clung to his front. 

Helping the adults back to the meadow where they left Juniper, Logan smiles gently as the kids cling to Remus. It's honestly adorable how good he is with kids. They trust him.

Logan and Remus got the adults settled on Juniper, while Remus let the kids cling to him. 

“When we get back to town, where should we bring you?” Remus asked. 

The kids just giggle and cling more, but the adults look at each other before saying, "The healing house." 

Logan hums, showing their map and having the woman point it out for them. "I'm guessing you prefer to be checked over before heading to your homes."

The woman nodded. “Yeah. Not that we can’t wait to go home, we just… We’re worried.”

"Understandable!" Logan clicks to Juniper, leading her along the path back to town.  "I can look over you a little first, if that helps at all? I just want to get a little further away from the swamps first." 

They consented with little nods. Remus took watch while Logan carefully examined them, finding them to be bruised, cut up a bit, half-starved and dehydrated, but far from death’s bed. Reporting what he's found and bandaging the small cuts, he smiles softly. "All set… Another little snack and maybe we drop each of you off at your home?" 

Remus pulled his water skin off his belt and shook it a moment. “There’s not much left, but this should tide you over until we get back to the Villas.” 

They all nodded, accepting the food Remus handed them from his rations. They got everyone back to the Villas without problem, dropping the woman and the little girl off at their homes in the residential sector and heading to the orphanage to drop off Ginger’s brother. 

"We'll have to resupply and rest before we try to find those two again… Or should let the guards try round 2?" Knocking on the door of the orphanage again, Logan hums softly.

“I don’t know,” Remus mumbled. “Maybe we should just tell Lucinda what route we’re taking, have her send after us if they return.”

The door opened and Laucion’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at the sight of Ginger’s brother. Laucion barely managed to catch him as the small child hurled himself at him. 

Grinning, Logan nods, watching with soft eyes. "Mmm… they can deal with the others that weren't as lucky perhaps?" 

“Yeah,” Remus sighed. 

“Thank you,” Laucion said dumbly. “Just… Thank you. I- I don’t even know what to say, I thought…” 

Logan smiles softly. "It's okay, I understand. It's why we knew we had to help. I'm sorry we didn't come through sooner." 

“Is there anything I can do for you two? Anything at all?” 

Looking at Remus, Logan is a little at a loss, he can't really come up with anything. 

“Here, I have an idea. Wait right here.” 

Laucion disappeared inside, and a few minutes later, came back without Ginger’s brother. He gestured for Logan and Remus to hold out their hands, and put a smooth, round stone in each of their palms. 

“Do you know what these are?” 

Logan turns it in his hands, shaking his head. "I confess that I only know this is lovely?"

Laucion laughed. “They’re sending stones. Keep one on each of you and if you ever get separated, you can use them to talk once a day.” 

"Oh! That's lovely!" Grinning broadly, he carefully tucks it away. "Thank you, so much!" 

“Thank you for bringing him back. Ginger was so overjoyed, I…” He clapped them both on the shoulder. “I spoke to Lucinda for you. She should have a small cash reward for your troubles. Please, come back to the Villas any time, okay?” He laughed. “We could use your help.” 

Logan grins. "Thank you indeed… Not necessary, but thank you! We should get this gentleman home, but pass along good wishes to Ginger and her brother? They're lovely kids!"

“I will. Have a good night.” He smiled and shut the door behind him. 

Remus fit the stone in his bandolier and met back up with the last man. “Where to?” 

"Wherever our last friend needs to go, I'd like to see them all home safe before we stop by the guard station." Logan hums softly, gesturing for the man to direct him as he helps him back onto Juniper. 

Taking the reins, the halfling guides Juniper gently, smiling. "If I know my husband, he's in the shop or storefront. Alberic is such a workaholic when he's worried." 

Remus let out a quiet breath of relief. “We’ve met him. He was really worried. Let’s get you home.” 

Chuckling softly, Arlan hums, hurrying Juniper along and smiling more the closer they get to the shop. "Poor thing falls apart without me, I think. He can't cook for beans."

Remus tied up Juniper’s reigns when they arrived at the blacksmith. He rapped on the door, tapping his foot impatiently. 

Logan helps Arlan down before hugging Remus gently. "Patience, my dear."

The door swung open, Alberic staring up at them with wide eyes. “Well?” 

Arlan sighs, stepping up where he can be seen and opening his arms. "I've missed you too, you great grump!" 

Alberic pushed past the heroes and threw himself into Arlan’s arms. Remus laughed and stepped next to Logan. 

Arlan sighs, wrapping around his husband. "Mmm, there you are, darling." 

Logan whispers softly, arm wrapping around Remus in a gentle embrace. "This is so pure…" 

Alberic looked up with watery eyes. “Please, come inside. I have gifts.”

Remus and Logan followed him to the counter as he dug around underneath. He pulled out a large crate, recognizable a ghost blade and two very sharp sickles sitting inside. 

“I also scrounged up some health potions, and, oh, this one is fun,” he tapped a small jar filled with gray smoke, like he’d pickled a stormcloud, “and, Logan, I saw you work with darts, and I noticed your quiver, Remus. I managed to make you three sedative darts and two poison arrows.” 

"Oh my… This is all so much! Thank you, we have to at least offer some kind of payment." Logan looks a little overwhelmed at all the gifts, being used to a simple existence. 

Arlan hums softly. "A lovely set of gifts, my dear! Perfect for such kind gentlemen!"

He blushed. “You brought my husband back alive. Please take it, or I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” 

Remus shifted uncomfortably. “If you're serious about it… Um, thank you.” ((Go ahead and add 1 standard healing and 1 greater healing to your inv))

Logan shifts a little as well, shy but thankful. "Well… if you insist, thank you. Thank you very much. We should at least give you our previous weapons as stock for upgrading so you're not out as much material." 

“Of course,” Remus said and pulled out his old sickles. “Thank you.”

Trading out his short sword for the ghost blade, Logan makes a gentle bow. "May you live long and prosper, thank you very much." 

Arlan smiles, kissing his husband's cheek. "You're most welcome! Get some rest soon? You've earned it as well as our respect!"

Remus blushed and nodded. “We’re going to visit Lucinda, then get some dinner in the inn. We actually need to get moving tomorrow.” 

Logan nods softly. "Indeed. The last two sea hags were wounded and fled, but we focused on the prisoners first. We might be back through at some point though?"

Remus nodded. “We don’t want to leave you vulnerable. Just… Don’t get too comfortable.” 

Alberic nodded somberly and came to Arlan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We know how to defend ourselves. You should get to Lucinda before she closes up office.” 

Smiling a little, Logan pats Juniper in thanks for her work before swinging up into the saddle again. "Certainly. We'll definitely do our best to track them down on our way to the next town too. See you later!"

The husbands waved, and Remus and Logan brought Juniper back down to the stables. Remus gave each worker a silver in thanks and followed Logan to town hall. 

They came up to the desk. “Lucinda is expecting us,” Remus said. 

Logan bit back a grin as the desk worker scurried off, obviously having heard some rumors about them. She came back out and Lucinda appeared in the doorway, waving Logan and Remus inside. She gestured to the seats across the desk, sitting herself. 

“Tell me what happened.” 

Sitting easily, Logan hums, explaining what had happened briefly, obviously a bit proud that he'd been right about the sea hag and that the young girl was one, and tapping a map on her desk to show where the bodies could be found, he explains their plans for the next day. 

She nodded, her face twisted in a grimace. “Very well. Thank you for helping Blackmarsh Villas. Since two of the hags went free and could come back any day now, I simply can’t afford to give you the full reward, I hope you understand that. Nevertheless, I did scrape something up for you.” 

She pulled two tiny pouches from her desk and placed one in front of each of them. “That’s one hundred platinum each. I hope it’s enough.” 

"But of course. I wasn't expecting a reward, but thank you for doing what you can. If we do come across them and dispatch the two remaining hags, shall we send you word?" Taking the pouch, he counts it carefully before tucking it away.

Remus choked. 

Logan gently pats his knee, also a little flustered by the amount, he tries not to show it. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you two?”

“Um…” Remus swallowed and pulled out his map of the continent. He laid it out on the desk and dragged his finger along as he spoke. “This is the route we’re taking to Maeston Coast. If those hags become a problem again, you can send a courier to catch up with us and we’ll come back.” 

She nodded once. “Very well. Anything else?”

"I believe that's all we have to discuss with you. Thank you for your time." Standing slowly, Logan gives a short bow. 

Remus scrambled to his feet and sloppily copied, then grabbed his platinum and rushed out of the office. 

Following Remus out, he gives him a gentle hug as soon as they're out of the building, whispering in his ear. "I'm so proud of us, my dear!"

Remus blushed and hugged him awkwardly, then led him towards the tavern. “I mean, we could have done better. Two hags got away. We almost died, like, a couple of times.” 

"Well, yeah, but…  we came out alive, four half ogres and a hag is dead and hopefully shredding their book will help take them down later!" Following him easily, he hums softly. 

Remus nodded slowly. “Yeah… I guess that’s true. God, I just- I’m exhausted. Let’s get something to eat and go to bed, okay? We can stop by the bathhouse before hitting the road tomorrow?”

"Okay. I can definitely get behind that… Or we can see if we can take advantage of the bathhouse to relax and sleep better?" Letting Remus lean on him gently, he smiles. 

“Curfew,” Remus reminded sadly. “If we don’t get in the tavern soon, we’ll be in trouble.” 

Logan chuckles. "I forgot honestly. Alright. Food and bed it is. Maybe we can get some warm water brought up and I can give you a sponge bath, dear?"

Remus blushed bright red. “If you want.” 

They made it to the tavern and while they waited on their food, Remus popped open the window beside them and pulled out his pipe— black, wooden, very old. He didn’t use it often, but he was exhausted and his body thrummed in pain. When he lit it up, white smoke came out the top, shaped like skulls. 

Settling near him, Logan encourages Remus to lean, rubbing small circles in his knee in a gentle pattern he'd learned from Patton for stress. Remus sighed happily and leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder as the drugs lessened Remus’ aches. Their food came quickly, hot and at a discount, and Remus practically choked it down. 

Nearly moaning, Logan eats quickly as well, some of his usual trained grace disappearing in the face of hunger. Remus put his pipe away and they finished eating, then stumbled upstairs. Remus fell into bed with a groan. 

Following, Logan locks the door as he balances the jug of hot water and rags he'd asked the kitchen for. "Mmm, strip for me, baby~?"

Remus blushed and took a second to collect himself, before sitting up. He peeled off his trenchcoat and the scraps he used for a shirt, and kicked his skirt off. Watching with a smile, Logan prepares a bowl with water and some soap as well as one with just water to rinse. 

"Such a lovely one you are, dear. Lay out for me to clean? I'll let you choose if I start on your front or back… but I will clean you everywhere~!"

His face was redder than ever. He rolled back onto his stomach so he could hide his face in the pillows. 

Logan grins a little, starting on his hooves and working up with gentle scrubbing and massaging strokes. "Going to pamper every inch of you, my dear~!"

Remus couldn’t figure what he did to deserve Logan. He pushed those thoughts away before they could get too overwhelming, and forced himself to relax under Logan’s touch. He rustled around until he found his flute and quickly cast minor illusion so Virgil could curl against his shoulder and neck. 

Smiling as he sees the comfort illusion show up, Logan hums, fingers gently digging into the muscles of Remus' back and ass to release tension. "Mmm, I see your lovely friend is back… I'm glad."

Remus blushed. “He’s a druid. He likes you, I’m sure.”

"I certainly hope so… He's your friend. I hope to be judged worthy of you~!" Nuzzling Remus' neck softly, he kisses the side Virgil isn't pressed against. 

Remus sighed happily and found himself lulling half-asleep with Virgil’s purrs and Logan’s gentle care. 

Stroking and rubbing, Logan hums lowly, massaging softly and slowly rolling Remus over carefully to start on his front as well. "My little one… So pretty and strong~!"

Remus let out a little whimper. “No…”

Dipping the rag into the water, he grins, kissing Remus' nipple. "Mmm, you are, baby~! Nearly got hit a couple times just watching you fight… You're too sexy~!"

Remus buried his face in his hands and arched his back. 

My god, you are too easy. 

"I'm half tempted to slide right into you and sleep with you just holding my cock for me, baby~!" Stroking softly, he keeps kissing and licking the small nubs as his fingers keep cleaning down Remus' body. 

Remus grinded against him weakly, his bones jelly. 

Stroking Remus' cock, he hums. "You're so tired though…. I don't want to take advantage of you." 

“Please,” he panted. “Feels… so good…”

"Feels so good to be full of cock, my dark darling~? Have I made you a cock hungry whore~?" Pressing a gentle finger over Remus' entrance, he rubs softly to test how open he is. 

Remus arched his back and spread his legs. “A-ah… fuck, yes- yes, sir…”

Lifting the spread legs, he hums, sliding in a finger followed by another as he feels the oil and cum still lubing him up. "Good~! And you're only mine, aren't you~?"

Remus went to answer, but something jolted painfully inside him. “Adelaide,” he choked out. 

"Oh, I know… but I mean other than us … you won't go bending over for just a person on the street to get your fix of cock, would you, baby~?" Kissing his lips, he hums. "Well, unless we told you to~?"

That sounds fun!

“Not unless you told me to,” he agreed weakly. 

"Such a good boy… So obedient~!" Kissing Remus again, he nips softly. "I won't do that unless you want to be watched being my little cock whore, and we have plenty of money right now~!"

Remus whimpered, thrusting his hips uselessly. 

What about an audience? Would you let Logan whore us out in plain sight? 

Rubbing over Remus' walls, he works in a third finger. "Then again, there are clubs that I've heard of where people pay just to watch others fuck… That could be nice, just having a room masturbating to the sight of you taking my cock and moaning like a back alley whore~ !"

“Fuck,” Remus whimpered. “Hnnng… God…”

Trading his fingers for his cock, Logan slowly rocks into Remus, hands on the spread thighs. "So needy to be filled and fucked~!"

“Yes, sir!” He thrust back against him with a whimper, eyes landing on the open curtains at the window. “Sir…”

"Mmm~? Is someone already getting a little show~?" 

“Sir, someone could see,” he gasped, clenching. 

"And~?" Fucking him harder, he slides one of Remus' legs up around his hip to press deeper. "They'll see you getting fucked and liking it, helpless under me~!"

He whimpered and sobbed out. 

Want him to ours you against the window, show everyone your sloppy hole? 

“Shut up, Adelaide,” he whined. 

"Could be worse, baby… I once bent someone over in the window itself, letting them moan out across the town, chest heaving as I fucked their ass good~!" Giving Remus' ass a soft spank, he grins. "Could do that again~?"

Remus eyes rolled back, unable to do anything but gasp and moan. 

Fucking right against his prostate, he spanks again, watching his reaction. "Mmm, I think maybe next time~?"

“Please,” Remus gasped. “Please, please, need…”

Holding Remus' hands above his head for better leverage, he fucks in deep and hard. "Cum, slut… Untouched and helpless, let that little cock make a tiny mess on your belly~!"

Remus came with a sob, thrusting his hips wildly. Cumming hard into Remus, Logan kisses him harshly, fucking the cum deep with their combined thrusts.

“Please, sir,” he whimpered. 

Wrapping Remus' hands around him, he slows his thrusts once he's satisfied with how his cum paints his walls. "Mmm, feels good to be fully claimed once more, baby~?"

“Yes, sir,” he panted. 

Stroking his hair, he smiles, laying over and inside him. "I'm right here, dear… That vision they showed you… it wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you." 

“Thank you, master,” he panted, gripping onto him. 

Stroking and rubbing, he hums, kissing his skin softly. "You're welcome, my dear. It's only what you deserve…. my care, my affection, my protection, and all the pleasure I can provide."

Remus nuzzled into his neck, stretching out his legs. “You act like you owe me something.” 

Blushing, he smiles softly. "You gave me purpose, so I suppose that I do a little? However, I just like to care for any partner I have, Remus."

Remus peeked up at him. “You’re crazy.”

Logan snorts softly, cupping Remus' face and kissing him gently. "Perhaps…. but you like that I'm crazy!" 

He rolled his eyes and snuggled into him. “Goodnight.” 

Sliding the blankets up around them, he snuggles Remus close, letting their legs twine. "Mmm, goodnight, my dear."

[lanadeljones]

Cheers! #16 for the reindeer games holiday prompts!

Lucky Number Seven

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798906/chapters/52577980

     Betty sighs heavily as she stares down at the bar-top, her eyes losing focus as she stares at a chip in the woodwork. Her pointer finger drawing lazy circles around her glass’s edge, the crushed candy cane pieces dusting the ledge collecting along the pad of her finger. This has been a growing frustrating routine for Betty, she gets her hopes up for a date and they always crash and burn, and end with her enjoying a drink by herself.

     Her finger picks up their movement along the glass as she thinks about her date tonight with …what was his name? Brad? Her finger circles, Sebastian? Another loop, it’s not like it even matters, Betty She thinks to herself.

      A loud obnoxious giggle rings out across the bar, startling Betty from her tipsy reverie. She looks up from her perch and looks into the mirror across from  her, her eyes darting to a crowded booth in the corner where the offending noise originated from.

      Sitting in the booth was Betty’s date for the night, with two ditzy girls hanging on each arm. Betty catches herself staring and shakes her head as she moves her eyes back down towards her now empty drink. The laughing starts again and Betty rolls her eyes, each nasally syllable a reminder of her failed date. 

      Familiar heavy footsteps approaches her, bringing a small smile to her lips, already knowing who they belong to. Keeping her eyes downcast she watches intently to the drop of condensation slowly travel down her glass. A flash of white suddenly comes into her line of sight, as a ratty dish towel is thrown in front of her, she jerks slightly back in her seat. A familiar low chuckle surrounds her, goosebumps rising along her arms as she raises her eyes.

     “Jones” she shoots him with an unamused look.

     “Don’t give me that look, you were moments away from completely drowning in your own thoughts. I’m practically a hero.”

      Betty watches as he leans opposite against her, raising one arm to rest his fist under his chin. She can’t help but notice that in this position and in his standard tight black cotton shirt, that the muscles in his arms look extra delicious. She shakes her head to stop her brain from continuing that train of thought. She watches him lower his hand, a smug look on his face, having caught her checking him out

     That smug bastard.

    “You��re a shite bartender, you know that?” she taps her nails against the bar-top. A giggle on the tip of her tongue at the sight of Jughead bringing his hands to his heart while wearing a ridiculous pained look on his face.

    “What can I say?” he lowers his hands and raises them to his sides, “We are completely swamped tonight”

    Betty moves her head to either side of her, shaking her head at the sight of empty seats, excepted for the booth with whatshisname. 

    “So what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?” she raises an eyebrow and she flicks her empty glass across the sticky bar-top.

    “Well you can start by telling me what happened with guy number Six?” he picks up the glass and moves it to the washing bin.

    “Keeping score of my failures, are we dear Forsythe?”

    “Not failures. Accomplishments, Betts” 

     Betty rolls her eyes at his statement, remembering the conversation they had back with date number Four. A shiver makes its way up her back remembering how attractive he was that night, Betty wasn’t sure if it how late in the night they had spoken to or how assertive he was about his view.

     “There’s not much to say” she begins to inspect her manicure, hoping her short answer would be enough for him. 

     “And?” he asks as he walks back in front of her, making his way to the bottles to pour her a new drink. 

     Betty bites her lip trying to think of what to say next. Should she tell him about how he showed up late with liquor on his breath? Or that he was blatantly texting some other girl while she was trying to start a conversation with him? She crosses her arms, her thoughts putting her back in a fowl mood that the whiskey had been successful in getting rid of. 

     She opens her mouth to speak but no words left as she watched Jughead turn his back to her to pour her drink. She eyes traveling along his shoulder blades, thanking the cotton gods for the black fabric that hugs his frame oh so nicely. Her eyes catch glimpses of color as his hands move around as he is preparing her drink, the tattoos covering his arms flashing in and out of her vision. Her eyes travel down his back and to the right back pocket of his low hugging jeans, curious to see what new well loved paperback will there tonight. To Kill A Mockingbird, Good Choice, Betty thinks to herself.  

     Before she could make a comment about the paperback in his pocket, Jughead turns and faces her with her drink in his hand. He places the glass on a napkin and makes a show of adding a wedge of lime to its side before slowly sliding it towards her. 

     “I’m still waiting for an answer,” he states, throwing the dish towel over her shoulder. 

     Betty raises the glass to her lips, taking a small sip before answering. “What is there to say?” she raises her shoulders in a half hearted shrug. “I’m obviously not his type” she tilts her head over to the booth. She watches his blue eyes travel over to the booth, she watches him blink a few times before a laugh erupts from him. 

     Betty stares confused at him before looking over her shoulder to view the booth. The sight before her is an odd mixture of disgust and amusement. One girl is laying down asleep on one side of the booth, one high heel dangerously close to falling completely off her foot. And on the other side of the booth is Betty’s date and the other girl aggressively making out, her nose crinkles at the sight.

     “Wow, Betts. I think Six takes the cake for being the worse”

     She turns to face him again and brings her glass to her lips, she lowers her glass angrily, the amber liquid spilling slightly over the edge. As much as she hates to admit it, seeing him in a booth and being treated so terribly earlier really hurt her feelings. But before her thoughts could turn darker, Jughead’s soft “hey” lifts the fog.

     “Don’t let that bastard take up anymore time in that head of yours” he reaches forward and places his hand on top of hers. 

     Betty swallows thickly, her senses hyper aware of how soft and warm his hand feels on hers. Blinking a few times and savoring the sensation, she nods her head yes and gave him a small smile. Once he removes his hand she takes another sip of her drink.

     “I think I’m just going to give up dating all together” she declares before taking another gulp. “I’ll just adopt a handful of cats and become a crotchety old cat lady” she watches with amusement at Jughead rolling his eyes at her absurd statement.A soft bell jingle makes its way toward Betty’s seat and suddenly a lump of orange fur is right next to her drink. 

     “See! This is definitely a sign” she begins to pet the orange floof, the sounds of his loud purrs reaches her ears.

     “Dammit, Oliver!” Jughead half yells, a smile on his face. “Bad cat, you know you can’t be on the bar” he begins to wipe his shirt, somehow already covered in orange hairs.

     “If he’s so much trouble for you, I can take him off your hands” she watches the cat move to her lap and curl into a ball. “I can start my collection tonight” 

     “You’re not going to catnap my cat” he raises his own glass to his lips. “And you’re not going to become some lonely cat person” 

     “Right. Because I just have the boy lined up” Betty throws her thumb over her shoulder.

     Jughead chuckles slightly, and runs his hand through his hair. Betty noticed his demeanor changing slightly, she could see the wheels turning in his mind as he played with the rings on his fingers. 

     “How about one more date before going full cat lady?” his eyes darting back and forth over her face. 

     “I swear, Jughead, if you’re about to tell me you have a friend that you think I will like, I may scream”

     “No” he wags a finger in the space between them, a worried look across his brows. He blinks as the crease disappears before moving his finger to point at himself. 

     “With me” he states plainly, his eyes ignited with determination.

     “With you” Betty repeats, her eyes staring up into his, excitement traveling across her skin at the possibilities. 

     “Come on Betts” he places his hands on the side of the bar and lowers himself to be eye level with her. “Let me be lucky number seven” 

[flymetothejoon]

masked (m)

pairing: drummer!jungkook x reader genre: smut, angst, hidden identity  warnings: alcohol use, sexual content, foul language, adult themes, mentions of death, dirty talk, public sex, fingering word count: ~8k description: Silver Tooth is a local rock band that is becoming so mainstream that seeing them live is almost impossible. It isn't until your friend scores a new position as a guitarist that you find yourself indulging in the craze. Although their songs are catchy, Silver Tooth's popularity is attributed to one main factor— their mysterious and dangerous masked drummer.

...................................................

Standing in a long line outside a sleazy bar was definitely not your idea of an ideal Friday night, but when your friend finally catches some type of break after landing a guitar position in the infamous band Silver Tooth, it became a priority to come out and support him.

You can't help a scoff of distaste from leaving your lips as a drink spills onto your sneakers. You mumble quietly to yourself and shake out your foot, only to step back down into a foaming puddle of dirt and alcohol. You can barely see the damage that was done from how dark and misty the air is. Your best friend, Fia, erupts in laughter at the altercation, but you sigh to yourself.

You weren't fond of the night life in your town, and as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to enjoy it. You were tired of hearing all the rave reviews and stories from peers about how much fun seeing Silver Tooth play live was. You had to push aside the rumors and your fear to get here.

"I thought the whole point of him being in the band was that we wouldn't have to do this," you complain, gesturing to the chaotic line.

It has been nearly an hour of waiting in this beer infested swamp of an alleyway. You'd think that after many months of Silver Tooth's growing popularity that the employees at The Waypoint would figure out how to work by now. You grimace as the smell of weed and garbage engulf your senses.

Fia is quick in a defense. "I already told you that we can't go backstage because of him."

"Because of Slash?" you ask for clarification.

Slash is their drummer. He's well known because no one knows who he is; he conceals his identity using a skull mask and a stage name. You've only ever seen pictures of him— or his body, rather— in the articles online. He's the main reason why you are apprehensive about coming out tonight.

Fia nods, "we can't see who he is."

Even without knowing who he is, publicized medias have made it their mission to tell the general public; newspapers have plastered everything and anything about Silver Tooth in the entertainment section. The mystery behind the mask has enticed their audience. The newspapers portray Slash as being dangerous and horrific, and the rumors surrounding him serve as a testament to his danger. It brings an unwelcoming feeling to the pit of your stomach. Slash is mentioned in all rumors regarding disappearances, murders and shady business.

"...shouldn't we be worried for Hoseok?" you question her. Your friend is now assumed to be in the lion's den with this guy. He's been practicing nonstop with the band for the past few weeks.

"No," Fia rolls her eyes. "I'm sure those stories are just for publicity."

"They could be true," you mumble.

There's something eery and unsettling about the atmosphere surrounding the band. This is obvious just by the look of their venue choice; The Waypoint is the grimiest bar, yet it is the only place Silver Tooth ever conducts their shows. It's a pity, really. That's why it's almost impossible to get a ticket— the bar is compact and located in a bad part of town.

You can't tell if it's excitement or nervousness that you feel when the line starts to move into the bar. Your throat feels dry and the preconceived attitude towards tonight has started to eat at your insides. You follow behind Fia in conscious steps after you present your ticket to the bouncer. A bright green band is slapped around your wrist, indicating your admittance to the afterparty.

Immediately you're welcomed by dim lighting and a crowd that pans towards the small stage at the back of the bar. You don't realize you're clenching your first on the back of Fia's shirt until she turns around to look at you.

"Relax," she chuckles. "Just wait until you see Slash play."

"You've come here before?" you gape with wide eyes.

It's then that your body is jostled forward by the influx of people coming in behind you. Both you and Fia are pushed along with the rest of the crowd, and it's as if no one cares about getting a drink as they fight for a spot closest to the stage. Fia is one of those people, pulling you along with her to evade the other Silver Tooth fans. You stumble over your own feet a couple of times before catching your breath.

Fia looks at you, and you force a smile to assure her you're okay. You aren't. You are already standing in another puddle of alcohol and chips; the sensation of crumbling food is enough to make you want to go home. People continue to shove you forward even though there is no where to go. Your thighs are scraping against the edge of the stage.

"Murder me, Slash!" a girl screams during the momentary silence.

Everyone in the crowd erupts in cheers. You can't believe it, eyes wide again because the people around you reference his murdering accusations so lightly. It doesn't comfort you at all; they're fans. They don't want to believe it. But you do.

"He's everyone's favorite," Fia tells you, presumably reading your expression. Her voice gets muffled slightly from the chatter around you.

You lighten your own mood by saying, "maybe Hoseok will change that."

The two of you start laughing at the thought of your mutual friend. Hoseok has been passionate about guitar ever since he was young. Given the breakout success of Silver Tooth, you were proud of him for chasing after his dream; however, you still worried that the reputation following the band would affect him. You worried that the reasons there was an opening for him would result in the same demise. The only thing you could hope for tonight is that somehow your mind would be changed.

Your heart jumps when the sound of a fumbling microphone fills the air. The speakers are too big for the tiny space, and the sound echoing from the sound system causes you to flinch each time a tap is made at the microphone. The crowd is restless and rowdy; they cheer for almost everything.

"Who's ready for a show?" the man on the stage asks with great enthusiasm. His voice blares into your ears through the microphone. The feeling of bodies behind you has yet to stop, and only gets worse as the crowd erupts into more loud screams.

You're squinting at the MC until you realize that you know who he is— Siwon. He is the owner of this shit-hole that you're standing in. He's partially responsible for why you will probably have to buy new sneakers after tonight. 

"It is my honor to present to you a band that feels like they could be my sons," he says. "Their loyalty to only playing at The Waypoint has continued through all of their success. I am so proud to manage these dickheads."

The crowd enjoys everything this man says. Fia glances at you with a knowing expression. She leans into your ear. "He was the first person to let them play in public. They haven't left since."

"Humble of them," you remark sarcastically.

This man is only here to appease the horrifying rumors about Silver Tooth and touch some heartstrings.

"Have an open mind," she nudges you. You glance at her touch and notice the flask she is offering.

"I didn't realize you were such a fangirl," you joke, but there's truth in that. You had no idea Fia found guilty pleasure in standing in a sweaty, head banging mosh-pit.

You exhale and shrug to yourself before backing down a large sip of the stinging liquid from the flask. It burns the back of your throat, but nothing could hurt less than your dignity at the moment. The alcohol is wet against your lips when the cold metal leaves your mouth, and Fia doesn't waste a moment to do the same.

You smile at each other as the low sound of guitar starts humming throughout the air.

Surprisingly, no one in the crowd cheers. All is silent besides the strumming guitar. The lights have turned an icy blue, and seemingly from the shadows of the stage walks out the lead guitarist. You don't know his name. You glance behind you at the crowd, but no one is moving. The blue hues of light have cascaded down on each stranger's face, but their facial expressions almost look hypnotized. For a moment you feel as though that could be canon, but suddenly the guitar starts to pick up slightly and everyone puts their hands in the air.

Looking back at the stage, it's as if it is a one man show. The guy's fingertips are moving so fast yet so slow on each string of the guitar. You are intrigued by his skill, and the melody is addicting as well. Your heart is racing along with the building tempo of the music. It's then that another guitar joins with a large, dominant strum of one of the chords. It's Hoseok.

"Oh my God!" Fia gasps, only glancing at you for a moment to not miss anything.

The two guitarists appear to be riffing against each other. There are still no cheers from the crowd; you feel like you're missing out on an inside fandom ritual. The music is filling every inch of the place, not sharing with any other sounds. You catch your jaw agape before snapping out of the intense haze. The calmness doesn't last for long.

The lights suddenly turn a crimson red simultaneously as a loud bang of the drums erupts. The spotlight is on him. The crowd goes wild with shouts and cheers.

Oxygen evades your pores and you hitch a breath from the back of your throat. You're scared to swallow or move; chills rack up from your spine but you force yourself to stare. Slash has made his appearance merely five feet from you, and you can't seem to grasp the touch of reality for a moment as your eyes first lay on him. You feel scared, in some deep rooted, bedtime nightmare sort of way. The presence of the dark and ghostly features of the skull mask have presented themselves as a trigger for your fears. It excites you.

Silver Tooth's main vocalist has finally appeared, and once his mouth opens to start the lyrics of the song, the crowd is jumping up and down with wild hands and yells. You can't stop staring at Slash; his arm muscles are already glistening in sweat as they work seamlessly to guide the two drumsticks. His masked head is nodding as he plays— it looks effortless.

"Come on!" Fia tugs on your arms to get you to jump along with her.

You can't help but do it. The music is better than you expected from an underground band like them; your body starts to jump to the beat, and your hands are in the air before you can stop yourself. Alcohol is partly to blame for your excitement, but the band is still impressive nonetheless.

You feel guilty for not watching Hoseok, but your eyes are trapped in a Slash fantasy world. Every inch of his exposed body has got you hooked. Knowing there is a boundary between you two has given you much needed relief.

It's the last song on the setlist and you're soaked in sweat before you know it. You can feel the strands of hair sticking to your neck, but the chaotic and crowded atmosphere that you hated in the beginning has now fueled you to keep going.

The crowd is chanting the words to the song, and one part in particular causes the whole bar to get involved. Slash then stands up from his drum set.

"What's going on?" you look at Fia worriedly.

"It's just a thing he does," she assures you nonchalantly.

You're terrified as the masked ghost makes his way to the edge of the stage. The guitar is still going on without him, but his covered eyes are now searching the crowd with his arm extended out. Your eyes can't help but travel downward to critique the rest of his body. You're mentally having a panic attack at the sight of his muscular physique— now especially including his thighs. Fitted in a white sleeveless tee and tight, leather looking pants, he has gotten you more worked up than you want to admit.

"Me!" shouts begin from the strangers beside you in the pit.

Me? What are they volunteering for?

You lose your breath again when he jumps down into the pit. Surprisingly, no one rushes at him. Everyone in the crowd moves aside for him to walk freely. Your eyebrows raise in shock at the fact that Slash is now walking just beside you. You back away into the people behind you in fear of him singling you out. There is a looming sense of fear plaguing everyone in the crowd. They feed off of it.

"Murder me!" the girl from earlier yells again.

It's a bizarre feeling to watch someone's expressions when they have no facial features. You're forced to examine his body language, and from the sound of the girl's words, he tenses only for a moment before figuring out where to go next. You're holding your breath as you watch him; various people are leaning over others just to touch his shoulder lightly, and others are trying to get him in the background of their selfie. You are standing in shock still— just staring. Each time Slash turns to a different section of the crowd, the people flinch back slightly.

Slash hands a girl across the room his drumstick. The moment he releases the object, she collapses into her friend's arms. Slash doesn't notice, however, because he has already climbed back on the stage to jump around with the rest of the band as the song comes to an end.

"He must go through a lot of drumsticks..." you trail to Fia with a dry throat.

"I wanna fuck myself with his drumstick," she replies vulgarly in a drunken slur. You giggle along with her insanity.

You feel breathless when the setlist ends and the lights go out on stage. Fia's hand is in the air to get Hoseok's attention, and he gives a happy nod at the two of you when he sees her.

Your eyes fall to Slash; his outline is just enough to see him through the darkness. You wait patiently, wanting to catch him taking off his mask, but of course, he doesn't. He is spinning the one drumstick in his hand as he walks off the stage along with Hoseok, the lead singer, and the lead guitarist.

And that's that: your first eye-witness account of Silver Tooth. You don't know whether it's the alcohol or the experience that has made you feel so happy.

"What did you think?" Fia asks you. You can barely understand her slurring mess of pronunciation.

The performance was enough to distract you from your ruined shoes, so you reply, "I liked it."

The crowd is already funneling out. The stage crew has begun to dismember the equipment to make room for the DJ, and when you check the time, it's close to one a.m. The two of you make your way near the bar. You're relieved to lean against a table and catch a breath. There is already a small group of people ordering drinks at the bar, all wearing afterparty wristbands like you and Fia. They must be friends of the band members.

Fia is stumbling over herself to sit on a stool. "I can't even remember what my last name is."

"What?"

"I drank... way... too much," she mumbles. "Anywho, what'd you think of Slash?"

Her insinuating tone of voice and small nudge towards you makes you roll your eyes. The pulsing alcohol in your body isn't enough to make you forget how terrified you were of watching him. It was a weird feeling.

"The mask is terrifying," you admit your thoughts in a slow response. Your words are turning to mush and you can barely get your thoughts in order.

"Apparently he doesn't take the mask off even in the bedroom," she giggles, "if you know what I mean."

"If he's pulling girls with a fucking mask on, then what am I doing wrong?" Hoseok interjects with a bright smile.

Fia's drunken emotions cause her to show a big reaction at the sight of Hoseok. She cheers as if he has just won something, clapping at him with a large smile.

"You were amazing!" she exclaims. "I didn't even notice that Yoongi was missing."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the mention of the disappearance. It bothers you that everyone, including your best friend, is acting like this dark cloud following Silver Tooth is something to just be brushed aside. It isn't the matter of just someone going missing— it was that it was someone in your town. You could be next.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok notices your drop in expression.

"Noth—"

Fia interrupts you, "she's worried Slash is going to murder you."

"What the fuck?" Hoseok chuckles.

Your influenced mind has gotten the best of you. "You know what? Yeah, I'm concerned. He scares me."

"It's just a mask—"

"Is it true that he has a bunch of scars and shit underneath it?" Fia interjects.

You huff, "probably from his victims trying to escape him."

It can't be a coincidence that the news reported a skull mask at the place where the old guitarist had been last seen. Unfortunately Slash has never been convicted; anyone can put on a skull mask. You wish you knew more about the mysterious guy. With the distance between him and what you know about him, it made you fearful. You wish it made Fia fearful too.

"Don’t listen to the media," Hoseok scoffs playfully.

"Bad things happen all over town because of him! People getting robbed, beaten, murdered."

"Not because of Slash!" he defends.

Your drunken hand flies up in an exasperating gesture, "how do you know for sure?"

"Careful," an unfamiliar voice interrupts the conversation. "He can probably hear you."

Your heart drops for a moment at the joking stranger. When you look over towards the voice, relief still doesn't rush in; walking towards you is the main vocalist and guitarist— everyone except Slash has made their appearance. It's incredible how attractive each member of this band is. They join you at the table.

"Who the hell cares what he's done anyway. Have you seen his body?" Fia raises her eyebrows.

You can't help but laugh stupidly at your friend's comments. Finding amusement in her total disregard for her well-being is easier than worrying. You're trying to enjoy the night, just as you told yourself before getting here. It's difficult.

"You're not going to introduce us?" the lead guitarist says to Hoseok.

"Oh," he laughs. "Right. Namjoon and Jimin, this is ___ and Fia."

"You should bring them around every week," the singer, Jimin, says slyly. With his dark hair pushed back, and his lean body being exposed through a half buttoned down tucked shirt into jeans, you can't help but blush from his remark. He leans his elbows down on the table in front of you.

Your cheeks heat and you glance away awkwardly to hide your expression.

"Amazing set, guys. Really. I'm a huge fan," Fia compliments them. "And those clothes. I love the tight fitted pants. Especially on Slash."

"You can thank Taehyung for that," Hoseok replies.

"Slash isn't the party type?" you ask. The curiosity has gotten the best of you.

The band members are silent for a moment too long after your question. It isn't until the guitarist, Namjoon, clears his throat with a semi-panicked yet calm response that the silence ends.

"He doesn't come to these things," he says.

Jimin adds with a smirk, "he's too busy finding his next target."

Is he joking? Wide eyes and a panicked feeling overcome you after Jimin's words.

"Who?" a stranger asks.

Everyone at the table looks up. Approaching is yet another pair of men, only this time you have never seen them before.

The one who interjected himself into the conversation is carrying a bunch of drinks over from the bar. Jimin's smile grows and he raises his hands in praise.

"Finally, Jin! I need a fucking drink," he cheers.

The man you only assume to be Jin places the drinks down to the table. His accomplice is quiet and doesn't say anything when he takes a seat across from you. The unnamed man's demeanor is dark and reserved, yet his glinted rounded eyes are somewhat innocent and kind. He has his bottom lip tugged under his teeth, clearly detached from the table of people. His dark hair frames over his face, and intense eyebrows are knitted tightly as he palms a shot glass. You look away quickly when his eyes catch yours. Your heart is racing.

"We were talking about Slash," Fia answers Jin's prior question. You can't help but feel as though the air has gotten tense. Your eyes flick to Jin.

"Ah," he nods. "Don't know him. I'm just the sound guy."

His dismissive response doesn't sit well with you. Jin can't possibly be trying to play it off as if he doesn't know Slash's identity. He was just backstage for the entirety of the night.

"Surely it gets a little hot under that mask," you say.

Jimin starts chuckling after throwing back a shot, "it might be ventilated."

"That piece of shit mask is, like, from the dollar store," Namjoon says and the entirety of the table erupts in a fit of laughter.

You cross your legs, taking a shot from the table and downing it quickly to calm your growing nerves. You don't know why the idea of Slash has made you scared, but you surely can blame the dim lighting and funky smell of the bar for heightening the feeling. Your alcohol influenced mind makes it feel as though you could be on the set of a horror movie. There's an anxious sensation at the end of your nerves.

"We should chill with the jokes," Fia wraps her arm around you and you flinch in surprise. Her drunk arm is like deadweight on your shoulders. "This one here is frightened of your drummer."

You grow timid at everyone's eyes on you. The image of Slash standing so close to you at the edge of the stage is replaying in your head; his built body and intimidating presence is making your skin crawl. You can't help but wonder if the fear has excited you more than frightened you. What has happened to fear protecting you from danger? Why are you more intrigued now that you've entered this infamous lion's den?

You blink from your thoughts, only to make eye contact with the man sitting across from you. His expression is composed and unaltered; it almost appears that a smirk is going to spread to his lips, but your breath staggers when a voice disrupts and you're forced to spare your attention.

"He's a quiet guy," Jimin assures you. "Wouldn't take him for the aggressive type."

"Not even in bed?" Fia leans forward in a soft, drunken purr, almost whispering at Jimin. "Is it true he fucks with his mask on?"

"Why? You into that?" Jimin matches her tone.

The two of them are leaning into each other and everyone is watching them as their lips meet hungrily. You roll your eyes at the two of them with a laugh. Leave it to Fia to find someone with the same twisted fantasy mind as her.

"I would take him for the aggressive type," Jin widens his eyes. The conversation has continued without your best friend and her new fling.

"You would?" Namjoon questions.

"Yeah," Jin nods. "He can break his drumsticks in just one hand."

"He must be practicing for when he does it to people's fingers," Namjoon chuckles before another shot is thrown back.

The one unannounced member of the small group has now decided to get up. He stands silently, almost going unnoticed until you catch a glimpse of his absence from the corner of your eye. He hasn't said a word all night, and now he is quietly maneuvering his way over to the bar. When you look down at all the empty glasses on the table, you decide that drinking water would be your best option. You stand.

"You want anything?" you ask Hoseok before departing.

Hoseok glances at the bar in thought. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he turns to look at you; a subtle look has marked his features but he just shrugs with a shake of his head.

"No," is all he says.

The music almost feels louder as you make your way over to the bar. With ease you are able to get yourself there, proving the "time heals" narrative true as the alcohol is finally starting not to absolutely overtake every decision you make. You lean your body against the counter, almost brushing against the unspoken stranger from earlier. He has taken a seat, sitting alone and in his own silence away from everyone else. You can feel his eyes on you as yours chase after the bartender.

"You're staring at me," you bravely say. You don't look at him as you sit down.

A scoff leaves his lips and you're forced to face him. A low chuckle hums from his chest. "Does that scare you?" He asks; he is clearly mocking your expressed fear from the conversation earlier.

Thinking back to the chilling articles and your friend's safety has aroused your paranoia again. You have to admit that alcohol has made you a bit over the top in your feelings. Small worries have now become legitimate fears.

"N-No," you stutter.

"I've never seen you here before," he says lowly.

Your eyes can't help but scan his face. He has a beautiful structured jaw, and every slight movement made with his eyebrows and mouth seem hard and striking, yet he still somehow manages to give a soft and charming aura. His almond eyes are dark and rounded, staring at you mercilessly. It's intimidating, and you swallow hard at how attentive he is towards you. He looks fake; an illusion of perfection.

"...you remember everyone?"

He exhales. "I'd remember you."

The comment strikes a part of you that had been dormant until now; his voice is so smooth and captivating much like his overall presence. Heat spreads to your fingertips and chills send down your spine. The sensation is enough to make you nervously bite on your lip. A breathy laugh escapes you to mask your easy reaction.

"It's my first time seeing Silver Tooth," you say shyly. "I-I'm friends with Hoseok... the new guitarist."

"Just friends?"

You clear your throat at the unwelcoming thoughts now evading your subconscious. The bartender finally decides to pay mind to you, and you're thankful for the distraction as you order a glass of water. You need it. You're starting to feel hot from this sensual, timid conversation that is brewing with this stranger.

He must sense your apprehensiveness, cutting the tension by introducing himself. "I'm Jungkook. I'm just the sound guy."

A smile spreads to your lips at his referral to Jin's introduction.

"___," you tell him. "Just the friend."

"Not a fan?" he questions.

"To be honest, I was actually scared to come tonight," you admit. "I've read so many things about Slash... and it really influenced my opinion."

Jungkook's expression is masked. He doesn't allow his facial features to give away what he's thinking. "But?"

"The music was great," you nod. The cold water feels like a breath of fresh air as it hits your tongue compared to the stuffiness of the atmosphere in the bar. You've probably inhaled enough grime and soot to kill you.

"And what about Slash?"

His question fades into the background of your attention as he leans slightly into you. His broad shoulders are enough to relish at as it is, but now he is showing physical interest when he leans his arm on the bar. Your thighs tighten in an involuntary attempt to convince yourself you're not into him.

You blink. "Hm?"

"Slash," he repeats. The drummer's stage name leaves his lips like a word that shouldn't be spoken. "Still scared of him?"

His question slices at your nerves. Jungkook's eyebrow is cocked at you, and you can tell he is finding slight amusement from teasing you about their masked drummer. Thoughts about the mysterious man have gotten you intrigued again. The same intimidated rush of feeling you experienced when he jumped down into the crowd has returned and your pulse is evidence of that.

"Yes," you breathe.

"But you liked it, hm?"

"I-I was very impressed," you reveal. "The way he plays... I couldn't stop staring. I respect that he works so hard against... adversity."

Jungkook himself looks impressed by your answer. He is frozen for a moment before his hand is on your thigh; his eyes are attentive to your reaction. You lick your lips and shy away from his gaze for a moment to stop yourself from audibly responding to his touch, clenching your thighs from the unwanted sensation that has sparked in-between them. Your skirt seems like a weak defense at the moment, but you aren't sure if you want to be defensive.

His words are breathy and you're falling deeper as he continues to speak. "You'd come back just to see him?"

His fingertips are cold against your heated skin. They move only slightly when you shift in the seat, and you can't stop your breath from hitching at how immensely turned on this guy is making you. You've never felt so swayed by a stranger before— you wanted him. He has something about him that is too hard to resist.

"Yes," you reluctantly agree. "Only when I'm not thinking about being tied up and abducted."

Your attempt at a light joke causes Jungkook's touch at your thigh to become a bit more rough. You shouldn't feel excitement, but you do. He is so tempting.

"That's a shame," he whispers. You find yourself leaning in more to hear him, "tying you up is something I'd very much want to do."

Your mouth falls agape at the words. Suddenly it feels as though his touch his everywhere, and every inch of your body has now ignited in a cold sweat and plethora of ecstasy. His hand at the bar has now clasped the one you had on the counter. His touch is so delicate, a slow burn of sensation that starts at your fingertips and ends with your dampening underwear. You're biting your lip to control yourself.

"You're fearful, but I know you'd want to," he whispers. You're frozen at the close proximity of his face. He smells of fresh cologne. It's almost like he has just showered.

"You do this every week to a new girl?"

A smile pulls at the corner of his lips after your question. Your eyes narrow to peer down at them; they look so plump and soft. You're tempted just to lean in, given he would probably want that, but you don't. You don't want to let go of this anxious feeling— the anticipation for what could happen.

"No," Jungkook replies. For some reason you believe him. "Only ones that follow me around and then accuse me of staring."

His words are filled with slight amusement, but the way he is staring at you gives you an intense feeling. He is very good at making you feel noticed; even the way his stare dances back and forth between your lips and eyes as you speak gives you butterflies in your stomach.

"I was curious," you tell him.

"You're curious about a lot of things," he notes. "Curious about me... curious about Silver Tooth... curious about... Slash. Yet, you still showed up."

"Your point?" you raise your eyebrows at the insinuator.

"You're not scared," he concludes. "Scared people don't involve themselves."

"You're right," you play along with him.

You have a feeling that this will all just end in some smooth pick-up line. Your smirk grows and you place your hand over his on your thigh. He seems surprised but controls his reaction. With a gentle sigh and a knowing look at him, you press your lips to his ear.

"Maybe I do want to get tied up," you tighten your hold around his hand as you speak, bringing it higher and against your inner thigh. He doesn't waste a moment to expand his palm and grip your skin in his hold roughly. The material of your skirt hitches upwards.

"Be careful what you wish for," he warns.

His tone of voice seems much too serious for your playful one, but the goosebumps on your skin aren't prejudice. He is affecting you with every sensation.

Your thighs close around his hand and he shifts in his stool to place his knee between them, prohibiting you from closing your legs. Your eyes awkwardly look back to the group of people you left, only to realize that no one is paying attention to you. You are alone with this new man, fooling around at the bar. You don't typically do this with people you just meet, but Jungkook is an exception. He is doing all the right things.

"I'll do it here, I don't give a fuck," he grumbles against your skin. His hand slides further up towards your heated core and you gasp when you feel his fingers against your underwear.

Your eyes go wide and you push at his chest lightly to stop him. His hand freezes in place and you fight the urge to squirm. If you move, you will only excite yourself more. You didn't think your teasing would lead to him wanting to do it right here.

"No?" he frowns.

"No," you breathe. "Not here. I'm not like that."

He chuckles. "Not like what?"

"Easy."

Jungkook shakes his head at you. His small breath fans your face as he replies, "I'm finding it hard to get you to play along with me, baby."

The endearing title falls from his lips and your throat dries. You shouldn't be falling into his spell so easily, but it's impossible to fight it. By the looks of the way his eyes can't leave you, it appears that both of you have entered a trance that is impenetrable.

"You want me to play along?"

"Ah," he realizes. "You want me to beg? I will. I've wanted to sink my fingers into your aching pussy since the moment you looked at me."

You're searching for air, but you can't find any. Your cheeks heat at his vulgar language and your body reacts before your mind can, hips moving forward against his hand. Jungkook releases a sharp breath of pleasure when he realizes what you're doing. Your chests are touching as he uses his body to shield others in the room from seeing what his hand is doing to you.

His strong grip pulls your stool closer to him. Your mouth falls open, and you bite on your finger to stop a moan after feeling him press against your throbbing clit. Jungkook's fingers slide into your underwear seamlessly, exposing your wetness to his every touch and command. You find yourself leaning into him.

"You like to be told what to do," he coos into your ear. "You're fucking soaked. Is it because I scare you?"

"N-No," you moan.

The loud music is swallowing your sounds. Your hips can't help but want to rock against him, but Jungkook's free hand is forceful and rough, not budging to hold you against the stool. The restriction only makes you want to moan louder.

"You shouldn't ever be scared of me. I can't resist touching you," he murmurs. "I want this pussy to be mine."

"It's yours," you breathe heavily.

Your mouth falls agape and you bite down on his shoulder to stop yourself from being too overwhelmed with sensation. His thumb is moving at a wavering pace against your clit, rubbing circles and hitting every spot that makes your toes curl. You jolt forward into him when you feel a finger inside you.

"Yes," you moan, "keep going."

"Beautiful," he purrs at you, "You're so tight for me. Only for me, right?"

You squeeze the material of his shirt in your grasp when another finger enters you. His thumb continues to tease and roll against your clit. The naughtiness of the surrounding sounds of the people at the bar has enthralled your mind. The thrill of not knowing if someone will see you strangely makes you even more aroused. Jungkook is humming in satisfaction at your responses to his touch.

"Yes," you nod with a breathless response. His dirty words are so hot falling from his deep voice. "Fuck, Jungkook... only for you."

"Mhm," he grunts pompously. "You're such a filthy girl, letting me do this to you here."

"I-I don't... ever do this," you cry out.

You can hear his fingers as they push in and out of your wet folds. You bite your lip and bring him closer to you to stop yourself from being too loud. The cold metal at the bar has become ten times colder due to how heated your skin is becoming. Your mind is in a lull; it feels like hours have passed and yet time is going so slow; torturously slow, from the skillful use of his fingers.

"For me you did," his lips are at your ear, only this time he places a kiss there. He is growling into your ear, "My curious baby. Mine."

"All yours," you practically cry as the pressure becomes too much. You have no problem adhering to his possession kink as your core aches and pulses for his touch. Your lips are swollen and throbbing from how harshly you are biting down.

A heated sensation erupts through every nerve in your body. Jungkook's hold on you tightens as you come undone against his hand, whining out into his shoulder. His lips are on your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin harshly. You suck in a breath and dig your fingers into him. You can feel your heart against your chest as you come down from the high; the room is spinning momentarily.

You are lifeless against Jungkook's muscular body. Your palm can't help but slide against him; his arms and torso are rock hard and solid, obvious signs of fitness beneath all the dark clothing. When you finally look at his face, he is cutely flushed as well. His fingers retract from inside you and you whimper. The wet skin at your neck feels chilled as the air hits it, and the stinging sensation tells you there will most likely be a love bite there tomorrow.

Your chest is heaving and you lean against the bar counter. No one surrounding the two of you noticed what happened, but it doesn't change the slight embarrassment you feel. Nevertheless, the thrill of what happened has stained you— you are exhilarated.

"___!" Fia's voice slices through the air unforgivingly as your name leaves her mouth.

Jungkook distances himself from you thankfully. You're quick to compose yourself and fix your skirt, swiveling around in the stool and downing the last of your water.

"Ah," she squeals. "You'll... you'll never believe what I just did..."

"I think I can," you laugh at the irony.

"I just fucked Jimin three times in the bathroom. Three times."

You're stunned and don't know what to say. There is no way you are going to tell Fia what you just did. Part of you doesn't want to share the intimate moment— not because you feel embarrassed, but because for some reason it was kind of... nice? In the nicest way getting fingered at a bar by a stranger could ever be. Now you felt as though you were just making up excuses for yourself; you're drunk. He was as well. You fear that your hangover tomorrow will prove that this was a mistake.

"Wow," you smile for her excitement anyway. "How was it?"

"Let me tell you," she gapes with a dainty smile, "that tiny man is packing."

The two of you erupt in giggles at her description. Fia is swooning so hard that you think she might faint. It isn't until she glances at your location that she shows a worrisome expression.

"Have you been sitting here alone this whole time?"

"No, I'm with—"

You cut yourself off when you attempt to gesture to the stool next to you. Jungkook isn't there, and you can't believe how distracted you could've been to possibly not see him move. It's almost like when he escaped from the table earlier, except somehow then you caught him just in time. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes scan across the room. He isn't here.

Where the hell did he go?

"Hey, you guys ready?" Hoseok's voice drags your attention away from looking around. When you finally stand from the stool, your knees are weak. You gasp at yourself and stand stationary for a moment to compose your balance.

Both you and Fia manage to walk towards him. His guitar case is at his feet and the low mutterings of the men behind him are filling the air as the DJ has cut out. You check the time— it's 2 a.m. The bar is closing soon. Drunk muttering and girl's giggles are heard from the distance. Your eyes can't help but continuously look around. What the fuck?

"No, like..." a drunken Namjoon slurs at the table. "He could’ve totally murdered that girl."

"Bullshit," Jimin says dismissively. "He was at practice all night."

"Only takes a minute to stab someone," Jin shrugs as if intervening is none of his business.

"Convince me," Jimin prompts Namjoon and Jin. All of them are drunk off their asses and barely making sense.

"I don't know," Namjoon mutters. His words are forming together and his hand is wavering with an almost empty glass of beer in his hand. "Have you heard from her? 'Cuz I sure as hell haven't."

"She was tired of seeing your annoying ass," Jimin jokes.

Fia and you look at each other with alarmed expressions. Suddenly you feel the urge to cry. Namjoon's drunken thoughts could very well be the truth, and just thinking that a murder could've just been on stage entertaining you in a crowd has got you feeling absolutely sick to your stomach. You fear for Hoseok's life; Slash sounds sketchy and untrustworthy. He isn't someone you want Hoseok hanging out with.

"Guys, chill," Hoseok mediates.

"Just speaking my mind," Namjoon puts his hands up defensively.

"Why do you guys stay in the band then?" You demand an answer. Tolerating a killer has never been high on your list of things to allow.

Jimin and Namjoon are too drunk to recognize your anger. Their smiles grow and they look at each other before chuckling loudly; Jimin's hand starts patting at Namjoon's chest and he shows off a cocky grin.

"We're gunna be famous, baby," he gloats.

You scoff.

"___, they're drunk," Fia places her hand on your arm. She is mumbling out her words weakly. Drunk environments aren't the best place to confront issues.

Hoseok awkwardly grabs his guitar case before you can cause an altercation. It could be possible that you are projecting your frustrations from Jungkook's disappearance onto the words of a bunch of drunk men. You have been insinuating Slash's criminal behavior all night, and their drunk conversation could very well be stemmed off of that.

"This is fucked up and scary," you tell Hoseok as the three of you are leaving the bar.

"They were just trying to entertain themselves," Fia assures you, but it isn't assuring. She doesn't know anything. She is too into the band to think anything could be wrong.

"You guys are giving me a fucking headache," Hoseok whines at the two of you.

"I'm worried for you," you frown.

"Don't be," Hoseok sighs. "This band is my break. Finally."

You have no choice but to nod.

The moment your ass sinks into the taxi, you can't help but groan in release. Your head feels heavy and the night feels as though it was longer than just a mere five hours. Alcohol has its way of creeping up on you— but could it have been the culprit for creating a fake man at a bar who pleasured you?

No way, you convince yourself. That was definitely real. What the hell is his problem? You can't believe that you just did that with a complete stranger. He ghosted you within an hour of interacting.

Your sulking stare out the window is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. The bright light of your screen is hard to focus on, but when you finally do, your heart skips a beat.

unknown [2:23 AM] — still scared of me? 

[tokiro07]

Rereading the Simon Arc, I think the Earth Flame’s abilities probably work something like this

Earth: Gravitation, obviously, creates a gravitational field with the Flame as the center, allowing it to attract, crush, or hold targets, possibly even nullifying competing gravitational pulls

Forest: Realization, wherein the Flame literally becomes plant matter, rather than just shaping itself to resemble something the way that Mist Flames do. It doesn’t seem to control existing plants, and the realized plants don’t seem to have much staying power, since the vines and leaves seem to disappear once Koyo is taken away. It may also carry the secondary characteristic of sharpness, either increasing how sharp leaves or thorns are or giving sharpness to what the Flames coat

Mountain: Tuning, coats objects (only stated to be minerals, but possibly other things) and makes them act as if they are a part of the Flame itself. This allows the user to move the target, condense it, and even flare it up as if it were a part of the Flame itself (shown as creating a small mountain). I understand it best as the Flame literally carrying whatever it coats

Swamp: Fermentation, given the name, probably either excites microbes within the target or acts in place of microbes to break down an inorganic target to decay. It was only ever shown to have a liquefying effect, but it’s possible that it could also be used to reduce something to a gas. The mud it’s shown to make doesn’t seem to be harmful, but it’s possible that depending on what it’s used on or its concentration it could be used to create an acid that can damage organic targets as well

Desert: Hallucination, as I’ve said before, seems to only produce images, but it was used by an illusionist, Daemon Spade, so it’s hard to say exactly how it works given that he could have been layering the Desert Flame with illusions the way that Mist Flame users do with their constructions. It could also be a distortion of what’s already there, such as Daemon slipping away from Kaoru’s attack, but I’m not sure if that’s a good way to explain that. He also created several copies of himself that could split damage between themselves, so it’s possible that the Desert Flame had something to do with that, but I think that was something more to do with Daemon’s personal magic-like abilities. I think that Hallucination is more like a projection that is in the physical world rather than in the mind the way an illusion is, but lacks the physical density of a Mist Flame. Either way, I think it’s “element” so to speak is either air or light, since those are the most likely ways that the Flame causes distortions

Glacier: Freezing, fairly self-explanatory, freezes things. It is a cold Flame that takes heat away from a target, making it ice over. Similar to the Mountain Flame or even the Mist Flame, the resulting ice can be shaped and controlled, but I don’t think that it grants control of ambient ice, only ice created by the Flame itself like the plants of the Forest Flame. I think this is different from Zero Point Breakthrough in that the latter is explicitly used to invert the energy of Dying Will Flames, whereas Glacier Flames can freeze anything. Rain Flames, with their ability to remove energy from a system, can also be used to freeze things, but as far as I recall that was only used for Rain Flame projectiles and only by Ugetsu Asari in the anime, so it’s probably a highly specialized technique

River/Ocean/Lake(?): Kaoru’s Flame is unnamed and its ability unidentified, but given its bubbly appearance and his last name being Mizuno (water), I think it’s fair to say that it’s water-based. What it can do can only be speculated on, since we only see it once, so I’m going to throw out some ideas. Since Yamamoto seems to literally burst with blood from one attack, the bubbles from the Flame may have some kind of Expansion characteristic, causing explosive decompression or something to that effect. It may also focus on Fluidity, allowing it to flow through a target uninterrupted or take control of things that are fluid, like a liquid equivalent of the Mountain Flame’s control of solids. Since each of other Flames seems to either create or control an element (Forest, Glacier and Swamp seem to create plants, ice and acids while Earth, Mountain and Desert seem to control gravity, stone and air/light), it seems likely that the River Flame does one of the two with water. I think it’s more likely to control so as to have as little overlap with Swamp’s acids creating liquids as possible, but it’s probably a bit more complex than that since they all seem to have some combination of creation and control

Either way, with the exception of Kaoru’s Flame, I feel like I finally have a satisfactory understanding of the Earth Flames. I still feel as though that was Akira Amano’s job, but she’s clearly never going to do it, so I guess someone had to

[northwind4]

Dearest WingDings（17）

*It's a story about HandPlates! Gaster and Wing! Gaster

*I’ll appreciate it very much if you point out the mistakes I made in the translation, all kinds of help are welcomed!

*previous & next

*Handplates by @zarla-s

Wing!Gaster by me

———————————————

Chapter17

“I am flying, my heart is taking over”

298

The scientists sat together waiting for the instant noodles.

W: It seems that we can have some fun during this time.

G: So?

W: Emmmm

W: 16, 15

G: ...15, 3

W: 2, 16

G: 2, 3

...

The noodles were ready.

G: 8, 13

W: ...

W: You win

G: (*smiled) Obviously

Alphys: What are they doing?

MTT: The game of Go, my dear.

MTT: Play it by memorizing the coordinates on the board, how crazy.

299

W: You are really good at this

G: Board games,cube and number puzzles like sudoku, theses require rigorous logic and overall thoughts.

G: Similarly, their principles can be applied to design puzzles, including access control and security systems. We can also combine several different operating modes, so...

This was exactly what he was interested in. Gaster didn’t realize that he said a lot, with the confidence and pride look on his face.

Wing listened quietly, feeling that the skeleton in front of him was shining brilliantly.

300

*You gave Gaster a kiss

*AND THEN, HE KISSED YOU, AND IT’S SO HOT, AND PASSIONATE, AND ALSO SWEET, AND-

Gaster patted Wing on the head with the note board.

G: Are you okay over there? You seem very absorbed in your strange semi-liquid daydreams.

G :? !What are you doing!

W: Realizing the daydreams

G: What—let go of me!

301

*THUD

Wing, with a bone attack on his head: Stay determined!

302

W: After working the whole day

W: Hot water can make us relax(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ

G: Are you going to take a shower?

W: Yeah

G: Be careful

W :?

W: Are you worried that I will be drowned in the 3-cm-deep water?

G: I’m worried that you will be washed away into the drain

303

W: Heheheh

W: I will cry out for help at that time

304

G: (*changing clothes) Rare to go to bed this early

Wing looked at the slightly glowing soul from the gaps in Gaster’s ribs.

W: ...

W: Does it hurt?

G :?

W: The cracks.

G: ...

He didn’t want to talk about this.

G: What about your skull?

305

“Do you believe me?”

Wing said as Gaster sat on the bed.

“What?”He didn’t quite understand why the other one suddenly asked this.

Wing got closer to him.

“I mean, do you believe me?” He repeated, it looked like he was not kidding.

Gaster turned to him.

“Since we have experienced so many things together, I think you’ve already known the answer.”

Wing waited for him to speak out.

“Okay,”Gaster said, “I do.”

The next second Wing held his wrists.

“What...what are you doing?” Gaster felt the fluid flowing into his chest. Wing’s body turned into a black swamp, and he was stuck in it.

“Shh,” Wing said softly, “Trust me.”

Gaster felt that his consciousness was sinking, and pure gentle darkness came over, covering his soul.

306

Gaster felt he was falling.

Unlike the previous dreams, he didn’t feel pain or fear this time.

He knew he was not alone.

307

“WingDings.”

Someone was calling his name.

“It’s OK WingDings, now open your eyes.”

G: Uh...

G: What have you done, you made me...

G: WHAT—

He touched the grass beneath him.

And then he saw bushes and fireflies, and the river from the mountains and forests in the distance. He saw the vast and deep night sky above, and countless twinkling stars.

He and Wing were standing under the vast expanse of sky. The wind flew through the hills blew over his face, brought the cool and fresh feeling.

“Surprise~”Wing laughed proudly. His eyes were even more bright than all the star shine.

308

G: This is...

G: You brought us to the surface? But how...

W: Well, this place can be called soul space? Or the spiritual world? Virtual reality? Whatever name you like

W: In order to avoid getting insane in the void, you need to give yourself some support

W: Then I made every effort to recall those beautiful things...Later I found that I could build myself...a fantasy?

W: I just get your soul, uh, or consciousness here.

W: Welcome to my world.

309

Gaster walked along the stream.

G: It’s hard to imagine you can make them so real...

W: You can analogize the holographic projection...Um...you will find the edges if you keep walking toward one direction.

G: Is there an air wall like that in the games?

W: Haha good idea, I can add it later

W: Wait don’t go there it’s a bit unstable—

G: What did you say—

Before he could finish speaking, the ground suddenly disappeared, and he fell again.

310

Gaster suddenly woke up.

He was still sitting on the bed in his bedroom, and Wing was holding his shoulders anxiously.

W: Are you OK? Are you scared? Is there anything uncomfortable?

W: Ah...it’s all my fault, I should clearly mark there, I should follow you, I should—

Gaster reached out and stopped him from talking.

W:?

G: You-this-really-

G: It’s really amazing.

He looked up at Wing, with his eyes glowing.

G: Again!

W: ...!

The black monster felt like walking on the air.

W: Yes Sir

311

They stood under the stars again.

W: Remember the birthday present I said?

G :?

W: Look.

The oncoming wind brought the moist breath of rain, far but familiar.

Gaster looked up and saw the thick gray clouds rising from the sky.

Wing held up a transparent umbrella.

W: Special for you.

312

The rain is always so amazing.

The air condenses quietly in your invisible place, then they fall, they melt in mid-air, they fly in the wind, and finally become a small drop of water falling towards you. It seems that time slows down together. The whole world is filled with the sound of rain, but it feels quiet and secure.

Gaster reached out to catch, and the water droplets shattered on his hand, and then reunited.

Ephemeral, slightly cold, but gentle.

Just like the past memories that left in his heart.

313

G: How did you do it?

He spoke again after a long silence.

W: Hmm...that’s...

W: Similar to programming, or 3D modeling, first I have a basic impression frame of the scene of rain and then start to restore the changes in the clouds and the wind and the light and shadow and then create some raindrops and tile them and then set a random motion path and then add sound and start debugging and then...

W: (*looking away) It’s...just...this

W: Ah, a-anyway

W: Do you like it?

314

G: ...

He held the raindrop in his hand, looking towards the distant sky.

G: Much more than LIKE.

315

W: Wow

W: Well, that’s great...I mean, great

He felt his language ability was broken again. He wanted to stop and give himself some time to think, but his body didn’t seem to be controlled by the extreme rationality.

So he continued, stutteringly.

W: I think we have been together for a long time

W: And maybe there will be more time in the future

W: So I think we can do many things together, such as

W: As...

W: Watch...the...rain...?

Oh no he was completely out of control.

316

W: I mean

W: Would you

W: Like

W: Someone

W: to

W: be

W: with

W: you

W: ?

317

Gaster turned to Wing and stared at him as if he was reading an arcane test report.

Wing just wanted to wash himself away in the stream.

318

G: ...

G: Well, thank you for this gift

G: But I haven’t prepared anything for you yet.

Wing thought Gaster was going to skip the topic just now, but the brilliant scientist put a hand on his neck and made him lower his head.

Gaster looked away.

G: But I just thought of one...I think you will like it

He took a deep breath, it seemed that speaking became difficult for him too.

Finally he gave up the words, just took a step forward.

319

The rain stopped.

Under the pouring starlight, they shared a kiss.

[goatkingwc]

CONSUMED THE FIRE - Episode 001 of GKWC

GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.

CONSUMED by Nathan Hull

I had been typing frantically for hours, maybe even days. The never ending task of reporting the news consumed me.

Word after word, it was nothing but a blur of letters on the screen. I don't think i glanced away for a second. I was deep into my work, hands trembling from near exhaustion. The second bottle of house brand scotch two thirds empty, seven packs of cigarettes down. Light trickled in through the slit in my curtains signaling the start of another day. It didn't matter to me time had lost all meaning.

I sent the article through to my editer and demanded another job, ignoring his pleas  for me to slow down "Just send through the fucking assignment" I yelled down the phone, knocking the bottle of scotch from my desk. The frustration almost over flowing into frenzy I stormed out of my small home office into the filthy kitchen adjacent.

Upon entering a pain I'd never felt before shot through me, i ignored it and swung the fridge door open, grasping at the six pack of beer sitting alone on the shelf. I stumbled back dizzy before falling into oblivion. It felt like the floor had disappeared I heard the bottles smash but felt nothing at all, just a calming warm sensation pulling me gently into slumber, a peaceful darkness replaced the manic flashing of ideas that had been fueling me for far to long.

 I awoke to silence and the bright florence lights of a hospital ward beaming obnoxiously into my eyes. I had snapped, trying to finish a never ending task is a sure fire short cut to madness and apparently I had reached that level. The Dr explained that I had collapsed due to sever exhaustion and that a dangerously large mixture of alcohol and prescription grade amphetamines had been reported in my system. He gave me a stern lecture and ordered I rest up for some time to come.

I begrudgingly took his advice and relaxed with the days News Paper skipping through the first few pages like a book I had read many times before. At page eleven however I stopped a small laugh burst through my lips, there it was the most ironic thing I had ever seen. A small article titled "Local journalists dangerous decent into chaos" a two hundred word piece about yours truly.i smiled, how beautiful it was, i had been so consumed by the news that eventually, i had become the news.

THE FIRE by Sean Conway

The fire is burning through the bush quicker than I was expecting, the heat is not the most fearful part but the thunderous noise of the wood burning, sounds like a thousand cat of nine tails cracking all around us.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT, WHY DID YOU ASH ON THE GROUND” Devon, the lippy British back packer bellowed “it’s just a little bit of fire mate, relax” I replied reassuring him through my tears unconvincingly. “WE’RE GOING TO DIE, WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE” Devon kept screaming in an urgent cry. Jesus Christ this back packer has not stopped complaining since I met him at the hostel, I wanted to tell him to fuck off but I had more important things to worry about, like getting out of this mess and suing the tobacco companies and the government’s cigarette pack warnings for not once making me aware of the potential for bush fires by their product. They literally have warnings for everything else except the one thing that can kill you immediately.

Ah man when I sue these political fat cats I’m totally going to buy a sweet double storey house with my winnings, I imagine suing for Bush fire warnings would be a landmark legal case, I’d probably make the front page of the Newspaper. I might even have enough money left over to buy a chrome Lamborghini, fuck yeah that would be sweet!

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE?” cried out Devon waking me from my daydream and bringing me back to this deadly reality.

This whole waiting around to die must be playing with my head because I have never thought this before and it seems weird thinking this now, but fire is hot, like ridiculously hot. I looked over to Devon as he continued frantically searching for a way out of the path of the fire “Hey Devon, how hots this fire ah” I said as it fell on Devon’s deaf ears, he blatantly ignored my observation. Sure these are dyer times but that doesn’t mean you have to be rude.

I guess Devon is done searching for a way out because he is collapsed into a ball on the ground “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die OH MY GOD I DON’T WANT TO DIE” Devon screamed over dramatically to the skies like a soap opera star, fuck his voice is annoying.

The situation is becoming increasingly stressful and the anxiety is starting to get to me, I really need a cigarette but knowing Devon he’s probably going to have a bitch and moan about it, but fuck him I paid $50 for these Winnie Reds and I’ve only smoked one. I am not going to die letting a perfectly good packet of cigarettes go to waste.

Reaching into my pocket trying to retrieve my lighter without Devon noticing, Jesus where the fuck is it? Are you serious? in all the commotion I must have lost it. It’s moments like this that make me appreciate how crazy and random the world is sometimes, we’re literally surrounded by fire and if we weren’t on the verge of being burnt alive in this hell hole I would consider myself lucky.

The first breath of that sweet sweet Winnie red is always my favourite, it’s almost magical how that first intoxicating breath can make even the most terrifying situation bearable “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS CUNT? YOU’RE SMOKING! YOU’RE SMOKING!” Devon screamed as he rose from the ground with murderous rage “Do you Poms do anything other than fucking complain” I belched back through a cloud of Winnie Red Smoke. I’m really sick of his whinging, I would have given him a piece of my mind but I was too busy trying to do the maths in my head on how long it would take for me to smoke all these cigarettes before the fire consumed us, but before I could figure out the answer Devon’s hands stained from fake tan are wrapped around my throat. “What are you doing?” I gargled, the heat of the fire made his hands super sweaty, It feels like an eel and smells like coco butter, two things I despise especially when they are crushing my wind pipe. “Get off me Devon, your hands are sweaty and gross” I said chokingly and wishing I said something tougher “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU” Devon spat in a salvia filled scream. Man I wished I had said something cool like that rather than your hands are sweaty and gross. I should really fight back but what’s the point, this will probably be a better way to go out, better than cooking alive in the middle of nowhere. I also think I should punch Devon in his Geordie Shore face because in these stressful times he has been a bit of a cunt, that’s how a hero would go out.

I mustered my remaining strength and clenched my fist as hard as I could and wham right in his kisser, to my surprise this worked because Devon jumped off me screaming in pain, he sounds like a dying lama “Ahahalaladahdahdal”. I must of really brought the pain for him to make such a cowardly cry.

The noise Devon is making sounds more and more pathetic, being the asshole that he is I thought he’d be use to people punching him in the head “YOU BURNT MY FACE YOU CUNT” his venomous mouth spit. I must have punched him with my cigarette still lit in my hand. Looking at the ground and seeing the remains of my crumbled cigarette infuriated me, it didn’t matter that I still have a full pack in my pocket, Fuck Devon! If I can’t beat him physically then I will have to beat him mentally, by saying the most badass line imaginable before we both disintegrate to dust “GET USED TO IT ASSHOLE! BECAUSE IN ABOUT 2 MINUTES YOU’RE GOING TO BE NOTHING BUT FUCKING ASH” I screamed aggressively but chuffed with myself for thinking of such a badass line so quickly “so will you, you fucking twat” Devon responded throwing me off my guard with his even quicker rebuttal “Yeah well, fuck you” I responded immediately knowing I had ruined the badass line prior and losing this battle of mental warfare.

Devon is celebrating his verbal stoush win by charging at me like an angry Bull in Pamplona. The thought of having Devon’s gross manky swamp hands wrapped around my throat again was what was helping me fight him off, but it was too late his uncooked sausage paws latched onto me sending shivers down my spine. The only thing going through my mind is how disgusting his sloppy hands are as I slowly fade in and out of consciousness.

The fire must be really close now because I can feel beads of sweat pour off his head from the heat, I felt Devon release his hands from my throat, I’m not sure if I’m dead but I’ll pretend I am so Devon doesn’t put his icky squid fingers around my throat to finish the job.

Playing possum was working until I was awaken by a liquid spraying on my face “AH WHAT THE FUCK DEVON ARE YOU PISSING ON ME?” how much more disgusting can this cunt get? “I’m not pissing on you look” Devon said pointing to the Heaven’s as the water started flowing down our faces like a baptism from God. “What’s happening?” I mumbled, this must be the DMT releasing into our brains because we’re dying, I listen to a lot of Joe Rogan so I’m familiar with this situation, “I don’t know I don’t know” Devon responded in his cunty British accent. The fire around us was being extinguished as the water continued raining down on us, I quickly got my Winnie reds and put them in the front of my pants so they wouldn’t get ruined by the water.

Out in the distance, through the Smokey haze I can see the flashing of blue and red lights, that could only be from fire trucks. “WE’RE SAVED, WE’RE FUCKING SAVED” Devon shouted with tears of joy and excitement. I was less excited because staring at the flashing lights of the fire trucks I came to the sudden realisation I probably didn’t have a case against the tobacco companies and the government fat cats and I was probably facing a lengthy jail sentence for negligence for starting a bush fire.

“OVER HERE OVER HERE” Devon began screaming to the fire fighters “over here over here” I screamed with a lot less enthusiasm. I’m not sure if it was the fire or the choking or the overwhelming confusion of being saved and facing a long prison sentence but something is making me woozy, like that fine line of feeling drunkenly happy to spewy drunk.

Waking up in an ambulance is not a new experience for me, but being surrounded by fire fighters and ambos looking at me like a freak show attraction is definitely an odd feeling. “So what happened, you guys have no idea how lucky you are to be alive” the Fire Department Chief said to us in a stern but congratulative voice. Lucky wouldn’t be the word I would use to describe the situation, I’m facing serious jail time, I haven’t been to prison before and wasn’t looking forward to finding out if all those prison rape stories are true. The idea of it made me more and more anxious.The only thing I could think to do was reach into the front of my undies and pull out my full pack Winnie Reds cigarettes, must look like a creep to the fire fighters and Ambos, but I’m too anxious to care “Do you have a light?” I said to the group surrounding me. The spark that was lit in front of my face didn’t do much for my anxiety but I thought it was fitting that what was potentially my last cigarette as a free man is being lit by The Fire Department Chief.

Breathing in that sweet sweet Winnie Red takes the sting out of any uncomfortable situation “So what happened out there?” The Fire Department Chief said with a controlled curiosity. I was sensing their excitement so I took a long deep breath of that Winnie Red for dramatic effect, blowing out the smoke I could feel I was giving off a real James Dean or John Wayne kind of vibe.

“Well fella’s, here’s the story”

The End

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