#bee approaching my location to eat me alive i let it.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

A lone and injured faithful breaches the line between worshiping the divine and tasting it. There's consequences, of course… But between that and death itself, who could possibly refuse?

[mickeymouse-moshpit]

Take Care

Hoo boy, I've written a second something. In my Star Wars renaissance during this pandemic, I have discovered an appreciation for medic Kix and I have very little shame about it. To those who know me in real life, I beg you to skip over this, or stop reading at the second set of asterisks. This started out as just drabble but soon turned into, how do I put this, filth. We’ve got brat-tamer!Kix and a very bratty newly employed doc reader. If you don’t want a lot of plot, skip to the second or third set of asterisks. 

Pairing: brat-tamer!Kix x fem!reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: pandemic themes, near death but no actual death, SMUT, some definite Dom/sub undertones, lots of oral, lots of fucking, uhhhh I think that’s it. As usual, reader has a birth control implant and everything is consensual. 

Enjoy!

You shuffled your feet as you climbed the stairs in the medical center. You were grateful to be alone, away from the hustle and interruptions of the crowded med bay and even further from the constant start and stop of the lifts. As a trainee you would use them to speed up your day, see more and learn more. But now? Now you could take the time to enjoy making your pulse race from something other than anxiety. You paused at the door to the second floor, considering popping into the lounge for a snack and some water, but thought better of it when you remembered how crowded it would be at this time of day. You kept climbing.

You had been in this maker-forsaken building for going on 36 standard hours, and weren’t sure when you would get to leave. You were the new kid on the block, taking over for the poor doc who had led the initial response to the clone illness. She would be back, but she needed rest. You were just happy to be here with a steady job and the knowledge that you could keep these men alive.

You reached the fifth floor where the isolation unit was, but also where the sleep rooms were located. You needed a minute to close your eyes and get your polarities straight. If you didn’t, mistakes would ensue, something neither you nor the unit could afford. You badged into the tiny broom closet of a room, just enough space for a cot and a desk where your data pad lived. You toed off your shoes and set your hip bag on the desk. It bumped the data pad and you sighed in relief when it lit up but didn’t show any new messages or results. Twenty-six standard minutes, that’s all you needed to refresh. You set the timer, clicked off the light and flopped onto the cot. Twenty-six minutes, that’s all; you let your eyes close.

Code blue, 5A. Code blue, 5A.

At the same time, the beeping you had already come to dread started, calling you to the isolation unit. This couldn’t be happening. You hadn’t even been here for 48 hours and already you were undoing the work Doc had done?

You grabbed your hip bag, slid on your shoes and ran. Ran for your job, ran for their lives.

You reached the doors to the unit and were met with the aide tasked with making sure everyone was properly equipped before entering the unit. He held out the white disposable coveralls, helping you step into them hastily without falling over. As you put on your shoe covers and gloves, he slipped the hood over your head, sealing out the outside air and clicking on the closed circulation. No emergencies in a pandemic.

Satisfied, he clicked open the doors and allowed you to run inside. You reached the room along with a medic you didn’t recognize and Carly, one of the nurses in the unit. The three of you waited for the medic who called the code to approach the end of his compression cycle.

“Evening everyone, my name’s Bee and I’ll be running this code according to the algorithm established by Doc. At this point, it is time to switch compressions and get meds running.”

So began the dance. The medics and nurse rotated between providing compressions to Sly and administering medications. After three changes, everyone waited with bated breath watching the monitor. One beep changed the atmosphere of the room.

“Great work team let’s place him onto his side and start cooling him down. We’ll evaluate in three and a half hours.” You stepped to the central desk to grab cool blankets. It was a miracle that his heart started beating on its own, but now it was time to ensure it would stay that way. You walked back in, spreading the towels over the clone while others hung medications and fluids. You took one last look before stepping out. “Thank you again everyone.”

You nodded at their reception of your words and made your way around the unit, checking in on the others under your care and were satisfied with their vital signs, their comfort levels. All was well again. You walked to the doffing room that connected to the exit. There was another medic there tasked with offering assistance for unsealing the suit you wore. After that was done, you didn’t need any help. You doffed the suit and hood, before getting rid of the gloves and shoe covers. You were drenched with sweat, but that was the usual these days.

Out of the unit, you made it maybe twelve steps before you started to see stars.

“Oh, not again.” You shuffled to the wall, sliding down it to avoid blacking out. You thought you had gone unnoticed, but that was not the case. The medic who had called for help was leaving the unit and saw you.

“Bee! What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…”

“Kix. My name is Kix.”

“I’m fine Kix, just a little lightheaded but nothing unusual.”

“You don’t look fine.” He knelt at your level. “Your face is grey and you’re sitting on the floor of a hospital. No one sits on the ground here if they’re fine.”

“If I tell you I’m fine, I’m fine.” You whispered without too much commitment.

“Come on, let’s get you checked out.” He stood and offered you his hand.

You stared at it for a moment, your exhaustion addled brain attempting to get your hand to cooperate. After a few too many seconds you took it and accepted the help getting back to standing, your head spinning briefly and making you squeeze your eyes shut when you made it upright. You glanced at Kix when you could open them again and nodded.

“Still think you’re fine?”

“Let’s just get this over with.” You dropped his hand and let him lead you to one of the other units that was currently running at 25 percent capacity. He led you into one of the empty rooms and pointed at the bed when you just stood there. “You have to sit so I can work and so you don’t pass out on me.”

You sighed deeply but sat down. He pulled one of the handheld scanners out of the cabinet and ran it over your forehead and thorax.

“You’re a little tachycardic and your blood pressure is a little low. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

You wracked your brain. You had eaten on your way to the center and had had some snacks here and there; you knew you had drank some water that morning and a cup of juice that one of the nurses had passed to you when she saw you zoning out downstairs, but that was it.

“If I say this afternoon is that good enough?”

He looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Considering it’s almost midnight I wouldn’t say so. But I won’t hold it against you. We only know how to take of others, not ourselves.”

“You can say that again.”

“You’ve got two options.” He locked eyes with you; apparently, he meant business. “I can give you fluids and you can sit here for an hour while they run, or I can follow you to the mess hall where you’ll eat an actual meal and drink something with electrolytes.”

You rested your face in your hands.

“What I want to do is sleep. That’s it. But if I have to pick, I guess I’ll go eat because that’ll be more permanent than fluids. Is my answer to your satisfaction?”

“Yup!” He grinned. “Let’s go.” He offered his hand again. You didn’t take it this time, just stood up and gestured in front of you.

“Lead the way.” You weren’t quite sure where the dining hall was considering you hadn’t been there yet. You could follow signs, sure, but it would be easier with someone who knew where they were going.

Much to your disdain, he led you to the lifts in the middle of the floor. The doors opened and you both stepped inside, waiting for the whoosh and dive down to the first floor. Fortunately, there was no stop and start to this trip, what with the center being empty of everyone except staff this time of night. The two of you exited and started in the general direction of the stairs. Instead of the stairwell, however, he led you down the hall to the right. You could hear some voices echoing down it but didn’t see anyone yet.

“Here we are. Now, I’ll go find a place to sit, you go and order.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumbled. It was bad enough you had almost passed out but being babysat was worse. You walked through the archway and considered your options. The amount of smells mixing threatened to turn your stomach, but you quickly settled on grilled tip yip and vegetables with some rice, something that wasn’t too heavy but still had nutrients. You took it to the cooler to grab the electrolyte drink Kix insisted on and a water.

After checking out, surprised when you found out one of the benefits of the job was free meals, you found Kix and sat down across from him. You avoided his gaze and started chopping up the tip yip. Satisfied, you took a bite.

“That bad?” He smirked at the face you made.

“No, just getting back from that hungry/nauseous line isn’t pleasant.” You picked up the electrolyte drink and took a sip. “This, this is much better.”

“Good. I hope you got another to take back to the call room with you.”

“No, mom I got water because I need that too,” you quipped, rolling your eyes.

Kix just shook his head.

You worked your way through the meal, pausing to take sips of your drink, dropping your head down every time someone walked past.

“They won’t judge you, even if they know who you are.”

Your head popped up.

“I know that,” you snapped. “I just don’t want to talk to anyone when I’m being babysat.”

“We’ve already been through this! You know how to take care of everyone in this maker-forsaken building, except for yourself. That’s normal. Just accept some help! The last thing we need is someone else being put out of commission.”

“You did enough when you made me come down here. You don’t have to sit there watching me like I’m a child who’s going to run off!”

“Right. And if I did leave, did go back upstairs and take over for Zip, would you actually stay here and finish up? Or would you take off with your water and abandon everything else?” His eyes bore into yours. “Because I think you and I both know the answer to that. So, I’m going to sit here, and you’re going to sit there, and you’re going to give your body what it needs to keep going. Then and only then will we go back upstairs, where I’ll go take over for Zip and you’ll go get some sleep!”

You slammed your drink down and went to stand up.

“Make me.”

He was next to you before you could get your left leg out of the bench seat, grabbing your shoulder and shoving you back down.

“Sit. Down. And stay there.”

You glared at him and huffed out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You slowly turned back to the table and Kix went back to his seat.

“The sooner you finish, the sooner you can go to sleep.”

The nerve of this man. You started eating again in earnest, almost done and yet with too much left on your plate. After fifteen minutes of silence, you were finally done.

“Now, do I have your permission to go up and get a nap before someone else decides they want to crash?” You couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

“Oh of course, Bee! Just as soon as you say, ‘thank you, Kix.’”

“Go to hell.” You extracted yourself and your water from the seat and hustled to the stairs before he could respond.

***

The lilting notes of your alarm woke you gently. You sat up and grabbed the data pad, turning the alarm off and the desk lamp on. Using the data pad, you read through the latest nursing notes from the unit and were relieved to see that Sly had come off the vent again. You pulled on a pair of fresh socks from your shoulder bag and slipped on your shoes. You clipped on the hip bag headed for the unit to round.

On went the suit, helped into it by a new medic. Sign out had happened while you got some much-needed sleep. You stepped into the unit, thankful that it was calm in here again. Carly was gone, you knew this, replaced by Loren.

“How’s everyone this morning?”

“They’re all looking much better right this second. They’re actually with it today, even know they’re in the medical center and not on a cruiser,” came her hope-filled reply. You knew better than to join her, lest a repeat of yesterday be on the horizon.

“That’s good. I’m going to go see them all right quick, let them know I’m still here.” You walked to the right, starting with 5125 and working your way back. It was the same questions. Can you tell me your name? Where are we right now? What day is it? How much do you know about what’s going on? Today, they all knew the answers. Yesterday, they had known some. It wasn’t time for hope yet, but you allowed yourself to relax a little as you walked out of the unit to go chart. Or, at least you did until you recognized a now all-too-familiar head complete with high maintenance haircut and tattoo walking straight toward you. You groaned internally.

“I thought you would be gone by now,” you said, both as polite conversation and out of curiosity.

“Oh no, I’m here until tonight. Perks of floating. Plus, it means I get to keep an eye on you until Doc gets back.”

“Wait, Doc’s coming back? I thought she was off for the whole week?” You barely managed to keep the panic out of your voice. She had told you to hold down the fort, had trusted you with her unit. Now she was coming back early.

“Oh yeah. She heard what happened yesterday and thought it was time to come back and sure everyone is stable.”

You were so fired.

***

You weren’t fired. Doc only wanted to spend 12 hours on sifting through data collected over the two days she had been gone and see about optimizing some treatments and protocols. She insisted you go home and get some sleep, and when you came back, she would brief you on any changes before going back on vacation.

When you got back to the center, you climbed the stairs to the seventh floor where Doc’s office was, hoping she would have some good news.

“Knock, knock,” you quipped.

“Bee! Great you’re here. I didn’t do much while you were gone, changed up some formulations and adjusted post-resuscitation protocols, but other than that nothing has changed.” Her face grew serious. “You know those two codes weren’t your fault, right? They’re the sickest of the sick, if we can get them back it’s a miracle and you did just that. Don’t deprive yourself just because you think it’ll make up for anything,” she said knowingly.

“He told you?”

“Oh yeah. If I hear about you trying to pass out again, then we’ll have to have a more serious talk about what the expectations are for your health. Don’t let it happen again. Now, are you ready to take over or do you need to hear more details about overnight?”

“No I can read over the changes and get started.”

“Great.”

You left the room, pulling the door to behind you. Your data pad binged at you.

Office ready. 5th floor. Room 14.

You went for the stairs and jogged down them, careful of your footing. When you reached the fifth floor, you turned to the left instead of toward the unit, looking for your new office. You finally found it and scanned your badge at the reader. The fingerprint reader popped out and you placed the pad of your index finger on it.

Access granted.

The door unlocked at the same time the stairwell door opened and closed.

“Bee! Long time no see. Sleep well?”

You groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, it was nice not being fussed at incessantly. Thanks for snitching by the way.” You pushed the door open.

“You’re welcome.” He was proud of himself.

“Where do you get off doing that? I had it under control!”

“No, you didn’t. How many times are we going to have to go through this? All I did was make sure that if someone else coded it wasn’t going to be you.” He reached you then, leaning against the wall. Did he think you were going to invite him in?

“Just shut up.”

“Make me.”

You grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him into the office, clicking on the light as you went and kicking the door shut. If you ended up killing him, you didn’t want witnesses. You let go of his shirt and put your forearm across his chest, pressing him into the door.

“I had one moment where all I needed was to get myself together that you just so happened to witness. That does not give you permission to make yourself my keeper!”

“No.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled your arm off his chest but didn’t let go. “What you did was sit on the floor of a medical center because you were so close to passing out. People who just ‘need a minute’ usually make it to the call rooms before sitting down.”

“It still doesn’t mean I need someone to constantly be checking on me.” You snatched your hand away. “I’ve got this office now which means I can keep all the supplies I need to not have it happen again.”

“I don’t believe you.” He stepped away from the door slightly.

“Oh yeah?” You gave him a small shove to put him back. “I made it this far without having someone take care of me. I didn’t even have roommates at the academy, to say nothing of living in a broom closet of an apartment while I was in the last years of my training.” You put a hand against his chest, holding him against the door, not wanting him coming any further into this space that was supposed to be your haven.

“That’s not normal! People aren’t supposed to be isolated; you know this!”

“It’s normal enough for me! It keeps me sane when everything seems like it’s falling apart!”

Something snapped. He closed the distance between you, lips landing on yours. You stepped back with a shove to his chest, chest heaving. He grabbed you by the shoulders, spinning and pushing you into the wall. You clutched onto his biceps and sought out his mouth with your own. He got impossibly closer, the kiss all teeth clacking and tongues sliding over each other. You tried to grind against him, but he grabbed your jaw with one hand, and your hip with the other, holding you still.

You growled low in your throat in frustration and broke the kiss, nipping at the corner of his jaw and grabbing the loops on his pants. You pushed him back again, making some space just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Get under the desk,” you whispered. “Coming!”

He looked at you incredulously.

“I said. Get. Under. The. Desk.” You whispered through gritted teeth. By some miracle, he complied as you went to the door and opened it. “What’s up, Zip?”

“I was wondering if we could go over the changes Doc made to the unit protocols. I was running late and missed sign out.”

“Sure! Take a seat, there aren’t many, but we may as well use the office instead of getting suited up.” You walked over and sat in your new desk chair, all padded foam and no arm rests to remind you to keep good biomechanics. It was almost perfect, except that you had a seething clone medic under your desk, so it was impossible to sit the way you were supposed to. Instead, you sat with your legs tucked under you and pulled yourself closer to the desk. “The only major changes are to the fluids and timing of their blood pressure meds. We’re doing a different ratio of saline to dextrose and giving them pressors sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, that’s it?”

“Yup!” you replied brightly. “So, in about thirty minutes they’ll all be ready for another dose of them. I’m going to work on notes for them and then come see them again.”

“Oh, sorry to have bothered you. I didn’t realize they were so simple but didn’t want to screw up today.” “It’s no bother at all. I’m always happy to chat.”

“I’m going to go up then, get some of the fluids mixed up just in case. You can’t be too careful, ya know?”

“I completely understand.” You pushed back and stood up when Zip did. “If you have any questions, call, come down, shoot me a message, anything.” You walked him over the door and opened it, smiling.

“Thanks again, Bee. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Zip. No problem at all.” You pushed the door shut, exhaling deeply. You hadn’t been caught, but it was entirely too close for you. You turned around as Kix was crawling out from under the desk, probably seeing red if his face was any indication.

“I didn’t need to be under there, you know. You could have just said you were going over the protocols with me.”

“I could have, but you’ve been here all morning. This was also way more fun.” You smirked.

He was grabbing you by the hips, leading you back to the wall, but you side stepped and spun him around.

“Not here. Not in my workplace.” Your eyes didn’t leave his. “As much as I would like to, lives are at stake here and I need to get my charting done.”

“Okay.” He looked crestfallen, but he was nodding. “I understand. When you get some time off though?”

“Just like a man, thinking with his dick. Yes, when I get some time off, but I have no idea when that will be. We’re in the middle of a crisis and I won’t have backup until Doc gets back.”

“Okay, I’ll leave now. Let me know if you need anything.” He left without looking back.

You went and sank into your chair. You weren’t quite sure what had just happened, what you had just agreed to, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You had work to do, and work you did. Three hours later, you were finishing up your last note, having to update plans for all the patients in the unit. You were almost done when an alert popped up on your data pad.

New provider from med bay on the Resilience. Arriving tonight.

Just your luck.

***

You stepped out of the unit, thankful you were getting a reprieve, but worried that you were shirking your responsibilities by taking the three days off the new provider was going to cover until Doc got back and the three of you could start pulling 24 standard hour shifts instead of days on end. You walked down the silent hall to your office, resigned to packing up your shoulder bag and going home. You did and didn’t hope Kix would show up again. Your door had almost shut when it caught on something. There he was.

“Hey, heard you and Doc have some more help. Maybe now you all won’t be killing yourselves trying to keep everyone alive,” he quipped.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I feel guilty enough over how relieved I am without you making it worse.”

“No, I really do think it’s a good thing. You get to go home and have some time off, maybe I get to go with you?” He was bold, no one need ever doubt that.

“And why would I let you into my home? I barely know you.”

“Fair enough, let’s go get dinner and you can ask anything you want. But you have to answer the same questions.”

“No need. I know where you work.”

He laughed.

“That you do. Take your time packing up, I’ll meet you downstairs after I sign out to night float.” He was gone again.

You shook your head. What had you gotten yourself into?

You changed out of your scrubs and into the jumpsuit you had arrived in, quite content to not bring the med center’s clothes home with you. You threw the scrubs into the laundry bag and slipped the data pad into your shoulder bag. Your hip bag would stay here. You clicked out the light, made sure the door locked behind you and headed for the stairs.

Down and down you went, careful not to slip but hurrying just a bit. Whether it was anxiety or excitement that made you move with a purpose, you weren’t sure. When you popped out into the main lobby, you glanced around and found Kix, but didn’t call attention to yourself. You just slowed down to make sure he saw you and followed you out. No one here needed to know.

You walked to the shuttle stop without looking behind you, confident he would have seen you. He did.

“The hospital scrubs really are a sin, ya know,” he whispered in your ear.

“Yeah, yeah, shush.” You had made it this far without getting caught, the last thing you needed was the shuttle ride to your speeder doing it. You both stepped onto the craft, grasping the overhead bars. You rode in uncomfortable silence, hyper aware that he was just a little too far in your personal space for it to be overlooked by strangers. Thankfully, no one else got on so it was just the droid pilot. “Lot 6 please.” The droid gave no acknowledgement but closed the doors and ferried you to where your speeder was parked.

When you stepped off, yours was the only one left. It wasn’t the nicest transport, but it was zippy and got the job done.

“Nice ride.” You couldn’t detect any sarcasm.

“Thanks, it gets me where I need to go.” You hopped over the side into the driver’s seat, Kix making his way to the passenger side. Once he was in, you started it up and pulled out of the lot.

It wasn’t a long way to your apartment, but the tension that returned when he brushed your thigh accidentally-on-purpose made it feel like it was never ending. At your apartment, you parked and the two of you moved maybe too fast to be inconspicuous to passers-by, but at this point you didn’t really care. You were away from work, and no one in this district knew you. He could wrap one arm around your waist and squeeze your hip while you waited for the lift and no one would have reason to question it. So, he did. And you let him. Maybe you even wiggled a little to encourage him.

When you got in the lift, he didn’t let go all the way, just rested his hand as the lift moved up to the fourteenth story where you lived. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for fear you wouldn’t make it to the apartment. The doors weren’t all the way open when you were rushing down the hall for the door, Kix behind you again. As you dug out your key and got it in the door, hands starting to shake, he wrapped both arms around your waist and brought his mouth to your neck, planting sloppy kisses and making you suck in a sharp breath as you got in unlocked and open.

You stepped through and spun around as he nudged the door shut with his foot. You brought your mouth up to his as you clicked the door locked behind him. It was like the kiss earlier, teeth and tongues and grabbing onto each other, but this time when you nipped his jaw you kissed the spot and soothed it with your tongue, causing him to let out a low groan. As you both moved further into the space, you reached behind you to unzip but gripped your wrist before you could do it.

“Turn around,” he rasped. You complied and he let the zip down gently, holding you steady as you stepped out of it. He unclasped your bra, and you tossed it away from you. You tried to walk toward your bedroom, but he gripped your wrist and pulled you to him again. He captured you in a bruising kiss, gloved hands gripping at your ass. You wanted him undressed too, but his armor was still in the way and you weren’t sure how to get it off.

“Ta-take this off,” you panted, tapping on his chest plate. You took a half step back and watched in amazement as he made quick work of the plates, shucking them and his gloves quickly until he was only in his blacks. You stepped close again, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging it up over his head. It dropped somewhere behind him, and you grabbed his hand, leading him where you really to be. You almost made it too, before he pushed you against the door frame, nipping and licking at your throat. He held you in place with a hand on one of your hips, the other hand palming your breast as he worked his mouth lower. He took the other nipple in his mouth, nibbling and sucking, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you.

“You like that?” He snickered. “I think I know what you’ll like even better.” He dropped down, mouthing over your stomach and down to your underwear seam, bringing the hand from your breast down to provide some pressure, causing your hips to buck as much as they could with him still holding you in place.

“Please, Kix, keep going.” Your breathless moans were getting a little more desperate as he got closer to where you really wanted him.

“Oh, someone drops the attitude when they want to come, that’s good to know.”

You groaned in frustration when he stopped moving again and pushed at his shoulders, giving you enough just space to get from under his hands and into the room.

“Get on the bed. Now.” You meant business, and hoped you sounded like it, but you weren’t sure given how out of breath you were.

“Fine.” Oh good, he was too.

Kix walked over to the edge of the bed, gripping the top of his pants and starting to pull them down.

“Ah, ah, ah.” You sidled up to him and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away just a bit. “Not yet. Lay down. Eyes on me, hands by your side.”

He nodded, and did as he was told, glowering at you the whole time.

“Now, that’s better.” You eased your panties down slowly, not a whole lot to work with in terms of teasing him, but it would do. He eyes were glued to your hands as you slid them over your feet one at a time, setting them down by his head. “I said eyes on me.”

He rolled his eyes but looked back at you.

“Something to say?”

“Oh no, just hoping you’re enjoying this while you can.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Oh no, honeybee it’s a promise.”

You hummed nonchalantly in response, but your walls were fluttering, nonetheless. You climbed up on the bed and straddled him. You considered him for a moment, before deciding to put him out of his misery. You ground your hips down on him once, causing you both to moan in unison at the contact. You pulled down on the top of his pants, erection springing free. You leaned over and licked a stripe up his cock, pulling wanton noises out of him. You tapped on his ankle so he would open up and you could lay down between his legs.

You took him in hand and lapped softly at his glans. When you took him further into your mouth, he fisted a hand in your hair, trying to tug you down onto him. You pulled all the way off and tsked at him.

“I thought I said no touching.” He started to protest but you cut him off. “No. I’ll tell you when you can touch me.”

His hand flopped back onto the bed in defeat. You resumed your ministrations, licking over his whole cock before taking him into your mouth again. This time he didn’t move, just groaned lowly. You brought a hand up to cup his balls gently, and he made a broken sound. You bobbed your head faster, bringing your other hand down to run your nails over his inner thighs and the space behind his balls in slow circles. You were fairly certain you had him on the edge when his hips surged up under you, but instead of forcing him further into your throat it knocked you off him entirely. You were just shocked enough that he was able to sit up, flip you over, and pin you to the bed.

“You think you’re funny? Being such a fucking tease?” he growled in your ear. He had himself propped up over you with one hand, the other working quickly over his cock. “I’m going to ruin you.”

You keened at that, squirming under him as he sat back on his heels, pressing one hand into your chest while his other kept working. He hissed through his teeth as he finished, ropes of come landing on your stomach. He ran three fingers through it, scooping it up. He brought them up to your mouth.

“Open.”

You shook your head.

“I said. Open.” His voice was dangerously low.

You pursed your lips and shook your head again.

“Fine.” He smeared his fingers over the lower half of your face. Your tongue flitted out to lick his come off your lips, your eyes not leaving his. “You filthy brat.”

You just quirked an eyebrow at him, egging him on.

“We’ll see if you still have an attitude when I’m done with you.” He pushed your legs apart, kneeling between them. He ran a finger up your lips, making them part and exposing your anatomy to him. “Oh, but you’re so wet. Only good girls get to come, you think you’ve been good for me?”

“Please, I can be so good for you.” “You weren’t being very good earlier.”

“I can make up for it, just please please touch me.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” He leaned down and went to work. He licked flat, wet stripes over your clit before swirling and lapping at your vestibule. You let out a moan and he went back to your clit, now planting filthy kisses on it on it in earnest as one finger entered you easily, followed by a second. “You’re soaked, honeybee. Is this all for me?”

“A-all for you,” You panted out. “Fuck you feel so good.”

“You’re so eager for me to take care of you. Where was all this enthusiasm earlier this week? Hmm? Not too good to ask for help when you want to come, but not willing to actually take care of yourself.” He licked another flat stripe from your vestibule to your mound, nipping at the soft flesh there. He kept pumping his fingers in and out, adjusting his angle, looking for that one spot but not quite finding it yet.

“Ah, please don’t stop, Kix!” You were desperate, and you didn’t care.

“Hmm… go ahead, Bee. Come for me.” You let go, clenching around his fingers. He kept licking at your clit, to the point that it was almost painful.

“Ahh, it’s too much, Kix.”

“Oh no, I think a good girl like you can take more, what do you think?” He pulled his fingers out and started lapping at your vestibule, licking up the wetness that seeped out. With the attention off your clit, you nodded. “What’s that?”

“Yes. I can.” Your voice was as breathless as you felt.

“Good girl.” He slipped his fingers back into you, seeking out your G-spot but finding it this time.

“Hooooo fuck! Ohh do that again.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Fuck! Please Kix do that again!”

“Atta girl.” He skated his fingers over it again and again, bringing his tongue back to your clit, licking and sucking like a man possessed. You couldn’t stop the mewling that came out of your mouth, the stimulation both too much and just enough. “Come. Right now.”

You were fairly certain the neighbors above and below could hear the wail that left you when you came again, vision whiting out and tears leaking out.

“There we go, now I think you’re ready.”

“Re-ready for what?” You didn’t have a voice at this point, just a desperate whisper.

“Ready for my cock, duh.” You looked away from his eyes and saw his hard-again cock in his hand. Your lips parted. “That’s what I thought.”

He dragged the tip up your lips, covering himself in your wetness.

“Wait, I have a better idea,” he said quietly, whether he meant for you to respond or not, you weren’t sure. “Based on where you were screaming for me, you need to turn over.”

You blinked at him a few times and quirked an eyebrow at him, then sat up to turn over.

“Hands and knees.” You complied, a little too entranced to say anything. He ran a hand over your hip, smacking your ass lightly. “Perfect.”

He gathered some more wetness, spread it over himself, then slid the head of his cock between your lips. He paused for a moment before sliding the rest of the way in. You groaned quietly.

“Let me hear you, honeybee. Let me hear how well I can take care of you.” He pulled halfway out, head dragging over your G-spot.

“Fuck, Kix!”

“That’s it.” He pulled almost all the way out before easing back into you, making you whimper with the slow pace.

“More,” you whispered.

“What was that?”

“More, please,” you asked with a little more volume.

“Whatever you want.” He sped up, quickening his thrusts and fisting his hand in your hair. He gripped you under the shoulder and pulled you up flush against him, changing the angle but still skating over that same spot with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the moans spilling out of you. He fucked up into you, biting at your shoulder, groaning into your shoulder. “Touch yourself.”

You didn’t hesitate to comply, reaching down to rub quick circles around your clit, positively mewling at the feeling of him everywhere. He removed the hand from your shoulder and pressed between your shoulder blades, pushing your face into the mattress while he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

“If you’re going to come again, do it now.” He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your walls clamped down around him as you came again, more tears spilling down your face with how overstimulated you really were. You were cognizant of him pulling out and spilling on your back, but barely.

You felt the bed shift as he got out, but he was only gone for a moment, back with some wet cloths and matching dry ones. He cleaned your back before helping you turn over and cleaning your stomach. He took a second one and softly dabbed at your face.

“What do you need, honeybee?”

“Mm, some water would be nice. Maybe a blanket?”

He left again, and you heard him puttering in the kitchen putting ice and water into a glass. When he came back, you saw that he had found where you kept reusable straws. He also had your favorite blanket that lived on the couch.

You sat up and tried to accept the glass, but your hands were shaking a bit.

“Here.” He held the straw up to your lips and you took it, gladly sipping.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he put the glass down, climbed back in the bed and covered the two of you with the blanket.

“No thanks needed, just listen when I tell you that you need to take care of yourself next time.” You just laughed softly, curling yourself into his side. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging just a few people who left a lot of love on the first story I actually posted, thanks for your support, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to post this otherwise. @catsnkooks @nelba @cherry-cokes-world @000ayfh 

[weird-incarnate]

A Brief Intermission For Shipping Content

This is the story of how Dr. Valentine and Dr. Afton met.  Dr. Afton belongs to @theho11owknight TW: Sexual Harassment, Nearly getting hit by a bus,  Summary: Dr. Marbus Valentine has  been on Earth for over a millennia now. Somehow she still gets herself into quite a bit of trouble, but that somehow all led up to this. Her first meeting with Dr. Charles Afton. 

Dr. Marbus Valentine woke up to the familiar ache of her body complaining. It’s been a full millennia and her damaged back still complained of the soreness it felt from the wounds inflicted on it. Groaning, she rolled over trying to go back to bed, shivering as the cold air hit her exposed back. She would’ve loved to fall back asleep, she really would have, but Nurse Mortus had other plans, made apparent by the way he kicked open the door and let himself in. “Rise and shine, my Valentine!” He rhymed laughing at his stupid joke. Mortus surveyed the room and clicked his tongue at the scene The computer in the corner of the room had been left on, again, and she had neglected to pick up her clothes off the floor… also again… She wasn’t necessarily messy, no not by any stretch of the imagination. Dr. Valentine actively enjoyed cleaning! Mortus on the other hand, hated anything being out of its place. He had to set up everything just right and it had to be like that the moment he woke up. Dr. Valentine was not like him, made apparent at her snakelike hiss when he opened the blinds. “Oh hush, you have to get to your clinic, and I need to get to the bar,” He scolded, “I’m just waking you up before I leave. Are you able to get there on your own today?”

“Yeah yeah… I’ll be fine getting there Mortus,” She responded grumpily, before shifting and sitting up in bed to rub her back, ignoring Mortus’s complaint at the lack of shirt she was wearing. “You’re in my room you old bastard. You should’ve expected it.” “Still! You’re an angel! Have a fragment of modesty please?!” He begged averting his eyes, and making a bee-line for the door. “I’m leaving to work! Be careful and I’ll see you tonight!” 

Dr. Valentine watched him leave, and waited to hear the front door shut before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and using her night stand to push herself up into a wobbly standing pose. After a couple shaky steps, as per her morning routine, she made it to the bathroom and began brushing her teeth. She spat out blood, most likely leftovers from last night's feast and sighed returning to her computer screen. She checked the news to see if anyone found the bodies of her victim from last night. They hadn’t and she was sad they hadn’t even been reported missing yet. She wondered about their family, their friends, their loved ones. She was struck between being sad and relieved no one had reported them yet, but accepted the relief and rolled over in her desk chair with a push to the dresser.

 It was too early for her to go to the clinic yet, Valentine wasn’t due to be there for three more hours. Still she got dressed, pulling on a turtleneck and a pink skirt, something she had worn for years. It took a bit of struggle to pull the turtleneck over her back scars as they were being angrier than usual today. Once the fabric settled she was able to move easier, and rolled over to her wheelchair in her room. She picked up her black plague mask off of the wheelchair seat and sat down in it after a quick transfer, pulling on her mask. It took her about twenty minutes to get ready in total, not shabby for a bad pain day. Looking around, she located her hat and placed it on her head, before rolling her wheelchair into the living room, and then to the front door. Did she ignore the meds and food Mortus set out for her? Probably. Did that matter to her in the moment? Not really. 

She checked herself in the entryway mirror of the quaint house to make sure everything looked correct on her, before unlocking the front door and rolling out, locking the door behind her. Dr. Valentine began her trek down the street into the city humming a small tune to herself. Despite the normally busy metropolis it was quiet and empty today. She didn’t mind it entirely. After years of living in the city, she did get sick of the noise every once in a while. 

Without much incident, Dr. Valentine arrived at the park, seeing some people walking their dogs, and children playing before school. She smiled at the scene. Normally she hated parks but this one by her house always brought her a sense of peace and joy. It was always so quiet and empty. Happily rolling down the path, she made her way to the duck pond where everyone seemed to be gone. She took some spare bird seed out of her bag and tossed it into the water, giggling to herself as they flocked to the seed, nibbling on it. 

However, she quickly felt a familiar feeling of being watched and she looked away from the ducks to a man on the other side of the pond. Dr. Valentine was taken by surprise at his appearance. Sure, in this new generation, much of the clothes was brightly colored and very different from when she was sent to earth, but only doctors ever adorned plague masks and here she was. Staring at a man in a plague mask. He was quite intriguing at her first glance. He had on a purple dress shirt and black slacks, with a black and silver plague doctor mask. He had what looked like a scar across his neck, and some marking on his wrist as well, but Dr. Valentine ignored all of it. She locked directly onto his glowing purple eyes peering through the holes of the mask. He hadn’t actually been looking at her. He was actually looking at the ducks she was feeding, but when she stopped feeding them, he noticed almost seemingly instantly and locked eyes with her. 

Dr. Valentine cursed the blush she felt tint her cheeks as she ripped her gaze away from him. The blush deepened when she saw him approach her. She damned the angels in heaven by making her a hopeless romantic when she fell, getting ready to roll away in escape, but he stopped somewhat close to her to look at the ducks closer. Despite her usual hatred of strangers, Dr. Valentine spoke. 

“Would… you like to feed them too?” Her voice came out soft and gentle, but nervous. The masked man looked over at her and back at the ducks before nodding. Dr. Valentine couldn’t help the smile that spread across her cheeks as she poured some feed into his hands and let him toss it out into the lake where the ducks quacked and munched away. That should’ve been it. It really should have been, but Dr. Valentine was desperate for human connection. So she started attempting to chat with him. 

“The ducks are always so hungry in the mornings. They would eat my whole bag of feed if I let them,” She mused, halfway not expecting a reply. 

“Do… you come out here and feed them often?” The man asked, seemingly analysing her. His gaze could have melted her alive, if she was the slightest bit weaker. Instead, she ripped her eyes away from him for the second time and looked back at the ducks. “Only when I get the time. I was just heading to my clinic but I had a lot of extra time so I decided to stop by here.”

“. . .Interesting…” 

Dr. Valentine was practically melting in her seat at this point. Looking for an escape, she looked up at him, glad he couldn’t see her face, and offered him the small bag of feed. He looked at it without taking it, so she prompted him further. 

“I have to head to work about now. I don’t meet many people by this duck pond so take this as a gift and feed them for me okay?” She smiled, and even though he couldn’t see it, she practically radiated sunshine through her posture, getting the message across. He took the bag, his hand brushing hers for a moment, and pulling back analyzing the bag. Dr. Valentine pulled her hand back and wished him well before taking off down the pond and into town. 

She cursed herself for chickening out and not staying longer. In her defense, she was useless when it came to her dumb instantaneous crushes. Either way, she hoped he enjoyed her gift to him. Despite her alert nature, she didn’t really get shaken out of her daze until she heard someone whistling at her. 

“Huh?” She jerked up and looked around, her eyes falling onto a tall man, with blonde hair and tanned skin whistling at her. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get your attention for like… five minutes!” He laughed, saying it in a chiding tone. 

“Oh uh… Do I know you?”  She asked, not intending it to sound as rude as it came out. 

“No you don’t but I’d like you too baby!” Oh. Oh gross. He was one of those guys. 

“Uh sorry, I’m not looking for anyone to date right now.” 

“Oh really? Are you sure?” 

“I’m not interested.” She snapped at him, fed up with his approach. Dr. Valentine realized her immediate mistake, when the smile on the guys face turned into a snarl. 

“I don’t think a crip like you has the right to be choosey” He answered with an angry tone. 

“Excuse me?! What right do you have to demand I go out with you after you insulted me?!” 

“It should’ve been a compliment you bitch! You should be honored I even considered you!” 

“I… I don’t even fucking know you!!” Dr. Valentine, very quickly fed up with this guy, went to roll away, but was stopped by him grabbing her backrest and forcing her back to face him. Not thinking, Dr. Valentine responded by pressing her foot against his chest and shoving her leg straight as hard as she could, shoving him back. She pushed him away but herself also in the process, causing her left wheel to fall off the edge of the curb. The entire chair tipped over and dumped her into the street, the force of the fall skidding her directly into the driving lane, and right in the path of a bus. 

She was only able to push up to all fours before she saw the bus barrelling towards her. She froze like a deer in the headlights and closed her eyes waiting to be hit. A flash of purple could be seen tackling her out of the line of danger. She heard the screeching of wheels, and felt herself be shoved several feet away, and her back slam against the concrete. She cried out in pain, her mask getting skewed and falling off. She opened her eyes several seconds later, to be greeted with the same masked doctor from the pond on top of her. He had shoved her out of the way and was surveying her for damage and there was a slight crackle of… electricity?

Dr. Valentine looked at him, entranced by his purple eyes, but even when he met hers, she didn’t look away. She noticed the ever slight widening of his eyes, and processed her mask had fallen off and her glowing pink eyes were a dead give away about what she was. Fear filled her body and she covered her eyes expecting some sort of reaction. Fear, hatred, anger, but all she felt was him picking her up off the tough concrete and carrying her back to the side walk, where the man that had caused her to fall was long gone. She fixed her mask back on her face, as she was set down on the sidewalk. The bus driver peeked out of his vehicle to ask if she was okay. She gave a quick nod, and after evaluating if he could trust the man that saved her, the bus driver drove off. 

The strange doctor picked up her half crushed wheelchair out of the street, and looked over at Dr. Valentine. 

“Um.. I don’t think you can use this,” He stated, as he attempted to spin the bent wheels. Dr. Valentine looked at him, then to the wheelchair, and started laughing. She was probably in shock, but something about the situation was so funny to her. He looked back at her laughing form and returned it with a small chuckle. 

“No, I don’t think I will be able to use that,” She giggled, trying to calm her panicked, heaving chest, “I.. uh… thank you. For saving my life.” 

“. . .Don’t mention it.” He said flatly. 

“Hm… Only if you don’t mention my eyes,” She joked before reaching out her hand, “I’m Dr. Marbus Valentine. Who are you?”

“Dr. Charles Afton. And are you sure I can’t mention the eyes?” 

“I’m sure.” She smirked, “Uhm… I don’t suppose you could call a friend for me…? I don’t have any way home.” He responded by pulling out a phone and handing it to her. She didn’t waste any time and called Mortus’s number. After explaining the situation and getting promptly chewed out for nearly dying and fretted over, Mortus said he would be there in ten minutes. Satisfied with the answer, she handed the phone back to Dr. Afton. 

“Thank you again. You’ve been a great help,” She smiled under her mask again and hoped she translated how grateful she was with her body language. Dr. Afton nodded, his face looking thoughtful. 

“I should get going. Are you going to be okay?” He asked. 

“I’ll be just fine,” She replied, getting as comfy as she could on the sidewalk. Her tailbone still hurt. She wasn’t expecting to feel his hand place itself on top of her head in an odd ruffling motion. He pulled away just as quickly as he did it. 

“Take care of yourself,” He said not really as a request but a statement, and walked away. Dr. Valentine didn’t even get time to respond before he turned the corner of a building and vanished from her line of sight

[eternalstann]

Extraterrestrial

Chapter One

Peter Parker x Reader

Your space craft has crash landed on a planet called Earth. Being so far away from home is scary, but a man named Peter Parker makes it a little better.

Warnings: language (nothing crazy...yet🤭)

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as the beeping sound coming from the dashboard of your ship got faster and faster. This was it, this was how you were going to die. The whirring sound and shaking was overwhelming. You shut your eyes, gripping the wheel even though there was nothing more you could do. An intense heat enveloped you and you realized your craft had caught fire upon entry of this unknown planet’s atmosphere. You were going to die on a planet where no one even knew your name.

You braced yourself for impact, and then there was nothing.

-

A bright white light clouded your vision. Was this the afterlife? You had always thought there was nothing after death. Suddenly a voice called out to you. "Can you hear me - squeeze my hand if you can hear me". Why would the creator of all things ask you to squeeze their hand? Your tried to open your mouth to speak but you couldn't. A meager squeak was all you could muster. "She's up!" The same voice called out. Alive? How could you be alive after that?! You used all your strength to open your eyes. When you did, you gasped at what you saw. Two men standing above you looking down. You sat up immediately, feeling frightened. "Her heart rates way up - Hey, you're okay. We're not gonna hurt you!" A man with kind eyes spoke. "I'm Tony, that's Bruce" the other man quipped.

You rose your eyebrows, asking them to explain further without having to use tour words. "We found you where your ship crashed in Ohio and we brought you here. This is New York. Where are you from?" You placed your hand over your throat to signify that it was too sore for you to talk. "Oh, here!" The one called Bruce fumbled before handing you a cup of water. You brought it to you lips with a shaky hand. Your arm felt sore from every movement you made. You drank the whole cup down in one go, sighing in relief at how much better you felt just from the water. "I'm from Tanwa-" you croaked. "-My name is Y/N".

Tony and Bruce looked at you in confusion, "Wheres that?". You were shocked that they had never heard of your home. "Where am I?" You questioned. "You're on Earth- or as our buddy Thor calls it, Midgard". You'd heard of Earth, and it was long way away from your planet. "Tanwa is not even in your Solar System, how did you locate me" you asked. "Well, it's our job to track any threats to Earth - not that you’re a threat, but you falling from the sky was out of the ordinary so we had to check it out. And it wasn't us that found you. We got in your general vicinity but it was our boy Peter who found you". You nodded trying to process everything they were telling you. How would you get back home? So many questions lingered in your mind but already you felt exhausted again. "Get some rest, we'll be back to check on you later" Tony spoke patting your knee.

You felt a surge of emotions run though you once you were left alone with your thoughts. How would you ever get back home? Could you trust these men? Your exhaustion got the best of you though and you let sleep consume you.

-

You aren't sure how long you slept when a door opens, light flooding your vision and you wince. “Shit, sorry!” A new voice calls from across the room. The shadowy figure closes the door quickly, shuffling towards you with caution. It’s dark again, and you can’t help but feel anxious as the unknown person continues closer. “My names Peter, I just wanted to check on you..” the voice is sweet, and you can tell immediately this man is younger than the ones you met earlier.

“Hello” you croak meekly, hating how unlike yourself you sounded. “Hello” he repeats back, finally close enough for you to see him. He has a soft smile, and is holding a cup in his hands. The first thing you notice is how attractive he is, and you mentally scold yourself for it. “Oh, um, I know they just gave you water earlier. Tony said you might not like anything else but I figure I’d try anyways” he shrugs, handing you a cup. It warms your hands and you hum at the welcomed feeling. You hadn’t even realized you were cold. You stare down at the steaming liquid, giving it a sniff. The boy chuckles at your actions and you frown, had you done something wrong? He notices the change in your expression.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh at you! You just look so human I expected you to know what to do I guess. It’s tea, with a little honey” he explains but you’re still lost. Of course you had drinks on your planet but nothing like the one he had presented to you. Tea? He sees you’re still confused. “It’s just a hot drink, we make it with like, herbs and leaves and stuff! It’s natural, and I just added some honey. We get that from the bees.” He says looking at you cheerily. Bees? You’re still a bit out of sorts over the strange drink. “It’s safe I promise” he chimes, taking the drink back and taking a sip before offering it to you again.

His face drops and he literally smacks himself in the forehead, “oh god, you don’t want to drink after me now” he sighs about to reach for the cup. You shake your head and smile at him, “it’s okay” you croak, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking. You can feel it go down and your eyes widen at how quickly it soothes your throat and how pleasant it tasted. “It’s wonderful, thank you!” You compliment him, your voice almost back to normal already.

Peters ears perk up at the sound of your voice, it was melodic. “You’re welcome...so what’s you name?” He asks, and he really hopes you’re up to talk because he’s curious... and he just wants to hear your voice again. “I’m Y/N” you answer. “And you’re Peter, are you the one who found me?” You inquire, and he nods. “Yeah I am, I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s amazing you healed so quickly, but I don’t know how anything surprises me anymore...” he spoke trailing off and you can’t help but wonder what he meant. You almost want to tell him, you’re still sore and no where your maximum capabilities but you have to remind yourself you don’t know him, these people, or their intentions. “On a scale of one to ten; how bad is my ship?” You hold your breath and wait for him to reply. “Honestly, like an 11” he gives you a pitiful look. You sigh, you figured but you just had to know.

“Where are you from?” He quips, “A long way from here” you laugh dryly. “Well don’t worry, we’ll do everything in our power to get you home” he tells you with a hopeful face and you do your best to believe him. “What’s your planet like?” He presses and you smile at his interest.

The two of you talk until you both fall asleep. Him in the big chair adjacent to you, and you in a bed that wasn’t your own. But for a little while; Peter has made you forget you’re stranded on a random planet with no way back.

——

“Rise and shine!” You hear a voice you vaguely recognize yell into the room. Peter shoots up, almost startling you from his spot in the chair. He’d stayed there all night...with you? The idea made your heart flutter. Get a grip, you rolled your eyes at yourself. “It’s Tony” Peter yawned, turning toward the man approaching. “Peter? I didn’t know you were here. Sorry underoos, I only made breakfast for Y/N” he spoke cheerily and Peter groaned at the nickname. “More tea I hope!” You smack your hands together, you were starving. “Alright, so these are pancakes. This is sausage, and these are eggs” he informed you, setting the tray in your lap. You’r eyes go wide. You knew what eggs were. “EGGS? As in premature fetuses?” You nearly shouted and Tony waved his hands, “No! Well actually; yes I suppose” he furrows his brows thoughtfully. “Woah, I never thought of that...” Peter whispers to himself. What kind of planet was this?! “But they’re not human eggs, or like your eggs. It’s chicken!” Peter does his best to explain. You were starving though, so scoop up a forkful and try it. They were quite enjoyable. “They’re....good” you say hesitantly. “Atta girl!” Tony smiles at you. “Now Y/N, if you don’t mind my asking; how did you end up here?”

You look up at the two men staring at you expectantly with your mouth full of food. You swallow and contemplate, should you tell them? You decide a half truth will do for now; until you know whether you can truly trust them or not. They could have ulterior motives. “I was going to visit my mother. My planet Tanwa is not far from hers, Symir” Peter wants to ask how you and your mother are from different planets but let’s you finish. “I was only a few klicks away when I took on fire from a ship just outside Symir’s atmosphere. I did a...I found a wormhole and went through. It took me to what I know now is the Milky Way Galaxy?” You look to Peter for confirmation and he nods. “Yes, the Milky Way, and I don’t really remember much after that” you say. And the last part was the truth.

You don’t know why, but lying to them actually made you feel a little guilty. You didn’t even know them, but the weight of your lie rested heavily on your shoulders. What if they could help you? You take another bite of food, watching the faces of both Tony and Peter. You think they bought it. Maybe, one day you could tell them the truth. Just not yet.

“Well, we’ll do our best to see you home Y/N. Until then maybe we can find a way to get you in contact with your people to let them know you’re okay. Finish eating and then Bruce is gonna come check your vitals, alright?” He smiles a genuine smile down at you and you feel even worse. “Thank you, Tony” you grin back. He nods before leaving you with Peter. He had so many questions but he decided not pester you. “I’ll let you eat, I’ll find you later okay?” He says, his hand resting on your arm and you want to ask him to stay. You enjoyed his presence. “Goodbye Peter” you wave, watching him leave.

The door closes behind him and the silence is deafening. You miss the way Peter talked a lightyear a minute. And being alone only led to you over thinking. Suddenly, you aren’t so hungry anymore. You place the half full tray on the chair and curl up in your bed. How could you have let this happen? You wanted to go home, to the things you knew. The people you loved. You’re older sister was with child, what if you missed the birth? You let a tear fall, doing your best not to all out sob. More wet drops roll down your cheeks, but you straighten up when you hear a knock on your door. You wipe the tears from your face as fast you can, flattening your hair. “Come in!” You call, clearing your throat.

The other man from yesterday, Bruce comes in. A large cart full of contraptions you don’t recognize with him. “Goodmorning Y/N” he says, eyes taking you in; and you know he can tell you were crying. He gives you a knowing look. “Arm please” he holds a hand and you give him your right arm. “This is just to check your blood pressure” he smiles, sliding a cuff onto your upper arm. You have no idea what that means but you nod anyways. The cuff tightens around you and you gasp at the way it feels. “It’s okay, just relax.” he calms you. You exhale when the cuff loosens. “Blood pressure looks good” Bruce chirps. “Now your temperature” he says, gently gripping your jaw and placing a thin stick under your tongue. You hear a beep and he removes it. “A little high, but nothing crazy” he tells you.

“Last thing, I promise. Now I just wanna listen to your lungs, breathe normally for me” he instructs; placing a circular tool attached to what looked like earbuds to your chest. You breathe normally at first... but suddenly when you think to hard about breathing it becomes hard for you to do. You panic, breathe coming in short spurts and then not quick enough. You feel like you’re suffocating. “Y/N!” Bruce exclaims, you start to think of everything. Your home. How worried you were, all these new people; a new place. Bruce holds your hands out in front of you so you can see them. “Y/N focus on your hands for me, just look at your hands. Now inhale, hold it. Now let it out” he demonstrates and you follow. After a minute or two you feel yourself come back. “I swear that’s never happened to me before!” You cry, not caring about the tears flowing freely now. Bruce rubs your back. “It’s okay, they happen to the best of us. You had a panic attack” he explains, “Y/N I know how scary this must be for you. No one you know, a planet far from home...but I need you to tell me the truth” he deadpans and you turn to him.

“I know there are no wormholes any where near Symir, not even close. So I just need to know, are we in any danger?” He asks, staring into your eyes. “No, no! I promise!” You swear, grabbing his hand. He exhales, “I believe you. I won’t tell the others unless I have to. But please know, we are not going to hurt you. These are good people in this compound...and on earth in general I guess” he laughs. You smile, you can tell from the look in his eyes that he means it. And some how, he understood how you were feeling.

“Thank you Bruce.” You shake his hand and he squeezes your fingers before getting up to leave. “You get some rest”

“Bruce wait!” You call out and he turns to look at you. “Can you ask Peter to come please?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hiiii! So not much Peter/YN action but i promise it’s cominggggg. What do you think Y/N is hiding? You guys I really have big plans for this so if you like it please let me know! Also I want to add a keep reading since this is so long but I don’t know how to do it on mobile :( if anyone knows please teach me omg 😭 thank you for reading & I love you 💕

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Dangerous (Part 1/2)

Description: It was your best friend’s bachelorette party in one of London’s best clubs when two men had closed a bet if they would be able to seduce you. And in the end, the night ended up way better than you originally anticipated.

A/N: Oh, we're back. For this two-part one-shot, I approached both of the idiots very differently - I wanted Sam to have this sexual hotshot energy while Cutter had more of that mysterious daddy vibe. And I think that somehow, it really suits both the boys. Enjoy.

Pairing: Charlie Cutter x reader x Samuel Drake (We stan a threesome in this house)

Playlist: Idiot sandwich that stole my heart™

Tagging: @missdictatorme​

Part 2.

It was just another night in downtown. The sunlight was slowly fading away, ladies wore tight and short skirts, and gentlemen were sipping whiskey in the nearby bars. And London was no different. It was one of the most favorite tourist locations since it was mostly colder in there during summer and it was the crown jewel of England. Soho and Chinese street looked especially magnificent at that time of the year.

Yet the clubs were especially full of people as well. Swedish and European students, you gonna love this, mate, as Charlie said Samuel a million times. Cutter and Drake, formerly known as Morgan, were two gentlemen in their best years. They weren't some boys who would bend you over the nearest bed without knowing what to do. No. They both were quite tall, one of them would even say fairly handsome - and skilled in the first place.

Drake, the definition of a small bitch according to Cutter, was rather persistent with choosing some warmer locations like the Bahamas or the Canary Islands, let alone Cuba, for their summer vacation. But Cutter, who was born and lived his whole life in England, told him to go fuck himself and that this year, he’ll show Drake the European hospitality and girls. Samuel had to say that these young kittens looked magnificent, from both up close and from the distance.

Norwegian girls had the dirties eyes he had seen, French girls could whisper them some sweet nothings the whole night, Hungarian girls were fiery enough to show them who is the boss, Czech and Slovak girls knew well how to handle alcohol and Russian girls were both tough and sweet as candy at the same time. Yet Samuel didn't stop bitching about London being the color-less, boring city he always saw on the postcards. What did it matter that the Queen was living there when the only location which tingled Samuel’s senses was the Tower? Yet Cutter told him that Sam hadn't seen shit yet.

And bloody hell, as British men would say when they walked into the club, Samuel knew what was the boy talking about. That was the energy Sam needed to feel alive since he was rotting in hell for God knows how long. Alcohol being poured in gallons, tight pairs of jeans, and laughter all around. And this wasn’t some boring-ass club either, as Samuel would say. People were dancing, which he hasn't seen in ages. Cutter most took him to poker tournaments or to play darts.

"Bee’s knees, I love this bloody place." - Cutter sighed and took the bomber off, walking stairs down to walk to the bar of the place itself. - "Come on, you prick, don't just stand there!" - He called at Samuel with a raspy voice, laughing out loud. Sometimes, Sam looked like a small boy in a toystore. Especially when he was looking at so many lovely bottoms and tits.

"One Pimm’s Cup and a Sex on the Beach for this lady over here." - Cutter winked at the barmaid who smiled back at him, already holding the shaker to prepare some of the best drinks in London.

"What are we? Fucking ladies to drink cocktails?" - Sam asked back, leaning his back to the bar, looking around. His eyes were doing their best to see it all - the girl with afro trying to kiss the soul out of her partner's body, the boy who had his hand in his girl's panties and the twerking group in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Mate, you hadn't learned shit while you were in London. You need to start slowly before pouring down vodka and other shit." - Cutter told him, smiling at the barmaid who brought them the drinks. She was sweet - her blonde hair was in a high ponytail and her face was full of freckles. She was just the type of girl Cutter liked. Sweet, innocent, and pretty. - "Thank you, darling." - The bald man smiled at the barmaid before she ran off to serve another customer.

"And you still think that you're attractive enough to get under a young girl's panties. Who is dumber here? Cheers, mate." - Samuel answered with a dramatic British accent, toasting to Cutter before taking a sip through the straw. Yet Cutter's grin was making him sure that he had just bumped into an interesting topic.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Samuel. Both American and European chicks go crazy for a British accent. All you have to do in the bed is talk and they cum on their own." - Cutter looked around with a shit-eating grin. He knew very well that he's right. A good portion of women was into a thick British accent and his raspy voice. The voice alone could work wonders between girl’s thighs, so being tall, muscular, and having this bad boy vibe was just a bonus usually.

"I think you're lying, brother, but what can I know? I usually put my mouth to use too, but we ain't talkin’. And this mouth can show you the universe, I tell ya." - Samuel answered with a nasty grin as well, his Boston accent being fully put to use at that point. Cutter started to laugh out loud, having Samuel clueless.

"Nice to know, I will remember that, mate. You wanna show me or what?" - Cutter asked, sipping another sip of his ice-cold drink.

"You're such a douchebag." - Samuel laughed as well since Cutter knew how to turn every single situation into a stand-up.

"You see the chick at three o’clock?" - Cutter mumbled from sipping, still looking in front of himself. Samuel carefully checked her out. Not that she would notice a man staring in a club full of people, yet Samuel didn't want to come across as a creep. She was... Pretty. As a lot of women inside the club. She was yelling something at the barmaid so she would hear her, standing there in some old sneakers. Her clothes didn't reveal that much, it was just a normal white top and a pair of blue jeans. Yet something about that face made both the idiots grin when thinking about showing her the edge of paradise.

"Yeah, you bet your fucking British ass I do see that girl." - Samuel returned to the previous position, grinning into his straw just the way Cutter did. Both boys liked girls who had that little spark about them. You never could quite put the finger on it, yet it was there. You couldn't name or label it - it was the flame of the unknown, a promise of fun or... See? Neither of them knew what it is, but she had it.

"And since we’re in this bloody town for the last night, I wanna bet, mate. Since I know that British accent is a hit with the ladies and you keep telling me about some magical Boston mouth, whoever gets the girl, wins something." - Cutter put the empty glass on the bar, grinning at Samuel, having the man grinning back. Timber was yelling all over the club and it felt 2013-ish. The barmaid automatically brought both men a shot of their finest vodka since Cutter came to the club pretty frequently.

"What’s the somethin’ we talkin’ ’bout?" - Samuel bit his lower lip when the girl got her drinks and ventured back to the back of the club where the tables were. Both of them poured the vodka down their throats at the same time, both of them having that face.

"I don't know. Maybe some expansive liquor?" - Charlie asked, but after that, he started laughing. - "Oh, I know, when I get her down tonight, you owe me a ride on your motorbike baby and night with this beautiful lady." - He offered Samuel his palm, watching Sam slowly shaking it.

"When I win, your best bomber is mine. Who goes first?" - Samuel crunched the knuckles and to his surprise, Charlie motioned for him to go.

"Ladies first, mate, ladies always go first." - Charlie smiled, asking for two bottles of beer. When Samuel got his beer, he shook his head but started walking in the direction of your table.

***

It was your friend's bachelorette party and for a reason, she chose a club in London from all the destinations, like France or Italy, she could choose. You were not from there, but she wanted something big and fancy, so she decided to go for a weekend to London. You were more of staying put at home person, yet you didn't want to upset her just days from her wedding.  

"Your dinks, ladies." - You yelled, earning an excited yelling of your shit-faced friends back. You’ve been sticking to beer the whole four hours you've already spent in that God-forsaken place, you've been just fine at that moment, being on bottle number four by that time.

"You're my favorite maid of honor." - Your friend Amber hugged you, giving you a big fat kiss on your cheek. You giggled at that, taking another sip of the beer. - "These men here, ugh." - Amber moaned out loud before taking a big sip of her Mochito, watching the dancefloor with her eyes open wide. You chuckled at that, sipping from your bottle.

You weren't that interested in the men there. Like, yeah, they were nice and most of the men you've encountered in England so far were true British gentlemen, but... You weren't the type who would mingle for a one-night stand. You were taking the whole crazy trip as a widening of your horizons. When Amber didn't want to be in a club, you usually traveled around to see the sights England could give you. Stratford upon Avon was cute, Devon too, but London was a blast in your opinion.

"And you're getting married next week, Amber. Don't forget about that you nasty bitch." - Monica yelled from the other side of the table, giggling at Amber's sighs.

"I envy you soooo much, Y/N. These men are everything. Just look at these damn asses." - Amber rolled her eyes, making you both laugh in sync. Suddenly, she got all serious. Her elbow bumped into your ribs making you squeal, her head motioning in a direction of some forty-something dude who was eyeing your table, slowly walking to it through the dancing crowd. - "I think he's coming for one of us, what should I do?" - Amber panicked, looking at her engagement ring.

"You won't do shit, Amber, you're the bride." - You calmed her down, making her lips from a little O in awe. She was like that when she was drunk. The man looked fine, that was true - tall with brown hair, a rough face, and a tall body. You couldn't see him clearly, you just watched him swaying his hips in black jeans and shoulders in a white t-shirt widening with every step he took.

It took him almost five minutes before he finally got there. That was mainly because of the way he was trying to sell that nasty smug. You’ve wondered how it came that he didn't wiggle his hips out. Just when he was about to tell you something, the DJ started playing some banger according to the screaming coming from the dancing crowd, which made you smile. So he leaned in without a problem. Well, at least you knew that he had some confidence inside of him.

"Night, ladies, the name’s Samuel." - He offered his palm to Monica, then to Amber and then to you, kissing your knuckles with a smile. - "How comes that three beautiful ladies end up in a place like this... Alone?" - He wondered, standing next to the empty spot long enough for Monica to scoop a bit further away. Naturally, Samuel sat next to her, giving her a rather nasty smile.

"It’s my bachelorette party!" - Amber yelled at him with a happy smile, making you smile as well when she shoved her ring right in front of that guy's face. At least the confident asshat knew that he won't make a single move at that table. Yet Samuel rose his eyebrows, smiled even wider, and gently caught her palm to look at the ring. Then he nodded and let her hand go. - "He is one of a hella happy fella, I tell you that." - And with that, his eyes hooked on your face. Monica was watching both of you with a vulgar smile on her lips.

"And what about you, doll, you're having a bachelorette party too?" - Samuel smiled, putting his bottle on the table. Before you could answer, shit-faced Amber already started telling him your story.

"She’s been single forever, I swear. It always works or spending time with her family, like, I know she's the most responsible and shit, but I am afraid that she’ll end up alone with twenty cats, and one day, she'll go nuts." - She told him seriously. The mysterious, confident and somehow sexy guy started laughing at her straightforwardness, looking you in the eyes after that.

"I will go nuts if you won't stop, bitch, this was unnecessary." - You sighed, taking a deep swing of your beer. You shook your head with an angry face. Although, Amber wasn’t stopping there, making you even more embarrassed. - "But you are a hell of a guy. Holy fuck, are those tattoos? I always wanted my fiance to get some." - She went for it and let her fingers grace his neck. Samuel had a pleased grin when she has done so.

"I've been living in Panama for some time, got ’em there." - He then proceeded to lift one of his sleeves, showing you another tattoo on his shoulder. These were poker aces. Amber but her lower bottom, looking at the tattoos, gently touching them, traveling down to feel the poor man's biceps at the very end of her exploration. To put it nicely, you were embarrassed. Yet to your surprise, the Samuel man ignored Amber drooling over him and practically climbing over the table to touch his skin. The man sat there and watched you with a small smile. - "And I have a few more on places that ain’t appropriate to show ’ere." - He mumbled and both of the ladies next to you instantly got the horny faces on.

Amber bumped her elbow into your ribs again, doing it way stealthier this time. Yeah, he was a good looking man if you'd have to be honest. He had your girls wrapped around his long finger five minutes after coming there - there was this... Testosterone or some shit like that coming out of him. Amber gave you one of these risen-eyebrows looks and bit her lower lip once again.

"Care for a dance?" - The man asked, standing up. At first, he was looking into the dancing crowd only giving you his palm as if he didn't even care. You sat there for quite a while before Samuel smiled in your direction, assuring you that he wants you to dance with him. Which, no matter how hard you'd try to deny this, it was something that made you smile too. In a gentle moment, you slipped your palm into his, hoping that at least Amber would stop hitting your ribs.

You honestly hadn't heard that song in years. Calabria felt real like a late 2010-ish song. Was this night sort of a retro party? You hadn't heard the majority of the songs in years, yet people danced to them like crazy. And let's be honest, you and Samuel weren't that much different, because as soon as you hit the dancefloor, he showed you some good moves and suddenly, it wasn't that weird or gross to be seduced by that man.

***

To be honest, Cutter was quite in the mood when he saw that Samuel and you dancing along with the other pairs. And more importantly, you two were having fun. Sam started with his most outdated moves, slowly getting to the more erotic ones when you seemed to agree with that. The man didn't want to be punched right into his nose. Yet soon, your pelvis was brought close to Samuels and Charlie could see his friend's lips whispering something in your ear. In the reaction to that, you were laughing and soon enough, you put one of your hands on his waist.

Charlie was quite familiar with the song playing. It had some good basses and the beat just invited you to dance. You were the sweetest when you let go of Samuel, rose your hands above your hand, yelling the upcoming lyrics, that went something like... - "Dangerous? Oh! That sounds good, yeah.

Talk to me baby, like I'm your dude." - It made Charlie chuckle.

He was also quite interested in the tactics Samuel used to relax you like that. The whole time Samuel was gone, Charlie stood next to the bar, thinking about what he should he do. He was choosing a tactic if you will. Every woman was different, so he better has some back-up plan if he wants to win the bet. Samuel undeniably had the charming personality chicks liked, whether he was aware of it or not. He was a forty-something-year-old dude with the mentality of a dude in his early twenties, which was attractive too.

Yet Charlie didn't have that trait. He was a man in his late forties and it could be seen as well. He was bald too. But that was something Samuel didn't quite have - the authority of something like a daddy figure if you will. He met girls who were into that sort of stuff and he hadn't got a single problem with delivering - it was quite fun actually. To say it quickly, he was a guy who was looking mysteriously with a good sense of humor, making the chicks both screaming in pleasure and very with laughter when they wanted that goofy-guy sorta stuff.

So he figured out that it would be best to figure out what you were into and work on that since the first second he introduces himself to you on the bar.

***

"You have good dance moves, Y/N!" - Sam exclaimed happily when he was leading you back to your table. You nodded, still laughing. You couldn't believe that you spend half an hour with a totally strange guy on the dancefloor. Yeah, it wasn't just dancing obviously. Sam proved to be quite handy with his palms, absorbing almost everything out of your body while his mouth was whispering funny stuff. Suddenly, you both stopped and he looked at you with a pretty bold smile. Again, he showed you how quick he could be when his left palm put some hair out of your face. - "This was fun. So... If you would like to have some more fun when you'll be leaving, call this number, deal?" - He asked and gave you a small card.

It was one of the most simple ones you've ever had seen. Samuel Drake - historian, archeologist, and an adventurer. His number was on the other side. After giving him the same nasty grin, you nodded and pushed the card into the back pocket of your jeans, letting him go.

Girls immediately noticed you coming back... All alone without that Sammy boy. But the smile was indicating that you hadn't empty hands. Amber asked you about what happened even before you sat your ass down. - "Well, we danced and lemme say, he's a good dancer and then... He gave me this business card to call him when ill be leaving. Which unfortunately won't happen since I have to lead both your drunk asses to the hotel." - You sighed, playing with the card between your fingers. Monica took it out, smiling at you.

"I'm more or less sober, so I can take Amber home while you'll find that prince charming and have a wonderful night." - She gave it back to you after reading the text under his name. - "I would love to have a cig, anyone going with me?" - Monica asked and mumbled a few curse words while she searched through her purse for a pack of cigarettes. Naturally, you got up and motioned for her to go first, telling amber to sit there on her damn ass until you come back.

It was nice to stand in some fresh air. The night was pretty cold and it was raining a bit, but you didn't care since you were already soaking wet. Monica gave you a cigarette as well and both lit it up at the same moment. She was giving you some nasty grin too, which made you chuckle. - "What?" - You mumbled, exhaling the smoke.

"He seemed to be into you big time. You sure you don't want to call the man?" - She asked and at that moment, she seemed to be pretty reasonable and sober. Your shoulders jolted unknowingly. There was something on that promise of spending a night by his side. Sam was genuinely fun, hot as far as you could say and pretty smart. Also, he wasn't drunk that much, neither were you - so it was maybe really the both-sided chemistry doing the work. A couple of times it seemed that he's going in for a kiss, yet he rather teased you and bit your earlobe gently.

"He seemed sweet and fun and all, but what about you two?" - You asked Monica silently, still smoking on the cigarette with a thoughtful face.

"Oh, shush. We'll take a cab and get to the hotel on our own. I'll look after Amber. She was right about you being all about work or family. He's a stranger and you don't have to see him ever again, and that has some magic into it. Live a bit, come on, sis." - She hugged and you, indeed, felt confident about what Monica has said.

Sam was nothing but a hot guy you met in a club. You can fuck the night away, have some fun, wait for him to fall asleep, and then drive to your hotel, sitting on a flight home tomorrow. You'll never have to see him again.

You were determined that once you'll be leaving, you'll call the man, accepting the offer. When you were inside, you walked to the bar to order some alcohol, because Amber got to drink both your and Sam's beer when you were dancing.

It took you a moment to notice that guy. He was holding a small glass of whiskey, eyeing you with a small grin. He wasn’t exactly your type of handsome, yet there was something about that face. You spotted small stable and very attentive blue eyes. This man was huge in the best meaning of the word. He wasn't fat, not at all, yet it could be seen that there are some muscles under the t-shirt he had on. He was at least twice your age, but you got nervous when you looked into his eyes.

The difference between him and the guy you met earlier was huge. While Sam appeared to be a fairly approachable, exciting, and funny person, this dude... He seemed mysterious and authoritative. Which had woken up things inside of you; things you didn't even know were there. After having your breath stuck for a while, you returned a smile to the man, which was a signal for him to move closer to you.

"Whatever the lady orders, it's my treat." - The bald man told the barmaid, having her smile. Slowly, the man put some pounds on the wooden countertop, still looking at the lady who was serving the alcohol. It was ridiculously more than what you were supposed to pay, yet the gentlemen made clear that he doesn't want a pound back. - "Sure thing, Mr. Cutter."

"And what about you, love?" - He asked, taking your palm to kiss your knuckles delicately. That accent settled inside of your ears, fully attacking your brain. It was hot only to listen to the raspy voice speaking with the fully-blown thick London accent. No matter what you did, that man’s gaze followed you around. You almost felt like you can't escape it. Why Sam was making you feel so good and that was what made you aroused, yet this man was coming across as someone who would bend you over his knee with pleasure and it made you interested as well. - "What about me?" - You asked back, smiling at the man.

"What are you doing here alone?" - Cutter said and leaned even closer, having a smile on his lips when he leaned closer enough to whisper things into your ear. He had a firm body, just like Sam did, yet these two couldn't come across differently. - "I can do something about that, sweetheart."

Was all of this a nice dream? Two attractive men approaching you on the same night, telling you to leave the place with them. Or were they serial murderers? Or did a car hit you and you were in a coma? No, your heartbeat reminded you that this is pretty much happening in front of your very eyes. What the fuck should you do? If you'll leave with Cutter, what about Sam? And if you'd leave with Sam, what about this man? Why couldn't you have them both?

Monica more or less made you swear that whatever happens, you'll leave with Sam at the end of the party. But you felt being in a tight corner at the moment. Both men had some spark in them, one of them promised you a whole night of fun and the other one felt like a total daddy.

"That's kind of you, sir." - You winked at him, not knowing what else to say. The club was slowly getting darker, changing the color scheme as it was getting closer to midnight, now playing some Russian rap songs. Cutter looked at the couples around you, seeing many of them kissing and touching far beyond the line of decency. That was before you felt tips of someone's fingers smoothing your upper arm, gently getting onto your sweaty neck and jaw.

You could turn away from that man, yet there was something that made you push your head even closer, so your lips could meet his halfway. He wasn’t shying away at all, coming in with full force - lip bite, not too long after that, he even used his tongue, holding you close by your jaw. And this man, dear lord, he had some skillful mouth. It even made you close your eyes with enjoyment, making you moan lightly into his kiss.

"So, what do you say, love? Me, you, my place here?" - He whispered once he was done with the kiss, his palm slowly traveling down on your waist and lower. Sam did touch these places, yes, but his approach was more natural than devoting straightaway. Which made you also a bit cautious and aware of the man.

"I need to go back, Mr. Cutter. But thank you for the... Ehm... Invitation anyway." - You took the drinks, hurrying up back to girls. Your heartbeat was off the charts, your whole damn body was sweaty and since there were two rather handsome men trying to win you over that night, you were aroused as well. You couldn't leave with Sam, because you'd think about Cutter and the other way around. But you were sure that you will at least masturbate that night.

"Are you okay?" - Amber yelled into your ear when you finally sat down, gulping down. You couldn't catch your breath ever since Cutter kissed you. Your gaze traveled to her and you shook your head almost frantically.

"Another guy tried to take me over to his place." - You mumbled, gulping down your whole drink at once. Monica smiled and leaned over to you.

"And was this one as handsome as that Samuel before?" - She asked, taking her cocktail out of your hand. You turned your hand to the dancefloor, imaging both the men inside of your head.

"It's hard to tell, Monica. This one was tall and well-built as well..." - You sighed, but Amber stopped you once again. - "How can you know that he was well-built?" - She wondered, taking the last ice-cold drink as well. It was a miracle that she hadn't fallen asleep until that point.

"Because I know he's a good kisser too." - You smiled and each of you started laughing like crazy. - "I mean, he wasn’t the most handsome man I've seen, yet, he had that something inside these eyes." - You shook your head, not believing the things that had happened inside that club. It was just one night you've spent there and two attractive men approached you. One of them was American, the other one was clearly British and you knew that both of them had something to offer. But you knew that you'll leave alone once again.

***

"How did it go?" - Samuel asked Cutter once he walked off the dancefloor again. Cutter was leaning his elbow to the bar, watching you and your girls chatting excitedly. After that, he turned back to Sam.

"I can't tell, mate. First, it appeared that I have her hooked, but she left after that. What about you?" - Charlie finished another glass of whiskey, moving to beer for the rest of the night. From Sam’s smirk, it was apparent that at least one of the men is feeling positive about the whole bet.

"She has my number and when I was on a smoke break, her friend told her that she should have some fun with me tonite if you know what I mean." - Samuel wiggled his eyebrows, making Cutter frown even more. Maybe he shouldn’t go for the kiss just like that, but your body was telling yes. You were attracted to him, so why shouldn't he test the waters? It was too late for these kinds of thoughts. He probably had scared you off.

The two friends were standing there for quite a while and waited for Sam's desired call, talking about nothing the whole time. Sam had to say that he had some fun time and Cutter’s most impressive bomber on top of that. But that was when both men felt someone's presence behind them.

"You two know each other?" - A voice asked them and when they turned around, it was none other than you. Your eyes were looking at both of them and it was clear that you don't know what to think of that. Sam looked at Cutter with panic, not knowing what to say.

"It's not how you think it is." - Cutter tried to calm you down, but you were visibly upset over the whole situation. Yeah, it was a bet, but Cutter meant what he said. He wanted to spend the night with you. This was just a fun way to raise the stakes. If you wouldn't get to know.

"Jesus, I should've known that you two are assholes." - You walked between the men, mumbling something about assholes, dickheads, and shits, preparing money to pay the last drinks of the night. - "How would two men like you saw something on an ugly duckling like me? Funny shit, I tell you." - You mumbled with disgust, ordering cocktails your girls asked for.

"You don't know what you're talking about, love. You're beautiful." - Cutter told you back with a small smile, looking Samuel in the eyes. The other man nodded when he realized, leaning into the bar as well. - "And intelligent as hell, which is a huge turn on. I don't know why someone as pretty as you are even let guys like us talk to you." - The American smiled at you from the other side, lust lingering inside his eyes.

Could that be? It maybe was just a bet, yet these two men seemed to be interested. It could be a game as well - but a perfect solution to your situation too. If these two knew each other, maybe you didn't have to leave the place alone because you couldn't choose between them. Maybe, you could leave with both of them at once. You’ve never done that, but the alcohol inside your veins made you courageous.

"So, you're friends, you know each other, right?" - You asked while a smile grew on your lips. Oh, Cutter knew what is about to come and... It was so nasty that it turned him on in some kind of way. Samuel was completely confused tho. - "That means you can meet me outside the club in ten, probably?" - You asked innocently, taking the drinks, smiling at Charlie. He smiled back, leaving Samuel in the dark for a little longer.

"Which one of us?" - The American demanded. He wanted to win the bet so badly because Cutter’s bombers were the best in the whole world. But when he saw your devilish grin with the shine in your eyes, his heart skipped a beat. Oh. OH. Holy fuck. You had that spark inside of you, but neither of them would ever say that you're a nasty girl as well. At least not this much.

Sam honestly never seen cutter without clothes and he didn't know if he's ready for that, but... Life was about adventure, right? And this way something Sam knew he will say yes to. There was something on having a girl helpless, being taken care of by two men. He loved to worship women, he indeed loved everything about that, but this was exciting as well. And Charlie? He knew how to approach to a threesome. There were occasions where he had joined in and in some, he was only there to watch. He especially loved when two ladies invited him to a bad. But he hadn't a single issue with giving you what you wanted.

"Both of you, silly." - You smiled sweetly before disappearing into the crowd.

[phoebehalliwell]

Any thoughts on a cupidlighter? (cupid-whitelighter) What kind of powers they might have? Like, would they develop new hybrid powers? (Orbeaming? Lol)

Okay. So. i actually think about the differences between cupids & whitelighter relatively frequently (i can say at the very least more frequently than any normal person) because in my next gen fic we have both cupitches and witchlighters, and while we already have a basic 411 on a witchlighter hybrid because of paige, chris, & wyatt, we saw really next to nothing on how cupids function as they were only in a total of like eight or nine episodes. but it’s established cupids are a different species and while cupids & whitelighters share some powers with similar functions (both have a form a teleportation & of sensing), i think the ways they tap into these powers is completely different. broad strokes, if a whitelighter and a cupid switched bodies, they would have trouble beaming/orbing respectively, because it would require a different set of skills/mentality.

so let’s start with whitelighters bc we’ve got a little more lore on them to start with. they are a species completely ruled by logic. there are clearly A Lot of rules in place for whitelighters, ranging from general “don’t fall in love with your charge” to the hella specific “don’t eat on the job, wear you formal robes to meetings”. we literally get the quote “a whitelighter who's controlled by his emotions is useless.” so uh. yeah. that and they clearly serve a higher power (the elders), and to displease them is to have your wings clipped. now, we could get into some speculation here bc while the elders are a higher council of whitelighters the do act as the guide/leaders of all users of white magic, no matter the species. so like we could say that what a whitelighter should have originally been was one who was always compelled to do good and help others and they initially operated off their basic instinct, and then the formed a casual system you know assigning charges to make sure every witch/future whitelighter was receiving the guidance they needed, and then that grows into this and this grows into that and we see the elders rise as the beacon of good magic, the moral compass to guide the world (and who better to watch over good magic than beings who are literally hand picked due to their amazing capacity to do good?). but now it’s sorta a uhh what’s the word you know that thing where something feeds off its own energy and growing bigger and bigger because every time you’re doing it your building off your last iteration and nothing’s really driving you to do it at this point other than the fact you feel like you need to improve the last phase into a bigger and better phase it’s very cyclical and i swear there’s a colloquialism for it but i just can’t put my finger on it Anyway it become a that situation where the elders are the leaders of the magical community so they need to be presentable and they need to be dignified and they can’t be a clownass bc then it seems like the elders as a whole are clownasses (which i aint saying anything butttttt) and because of all this whitelighters as a whole, over the centuries, turn away from that sort of intrinsic emotion based free form sitch and become a much more rigid and structured people. because of this, i think powers such as orbing is really guided by a more logical approach. they think of a location, and they can go there. it’s very much done with the mind. sensing is another whitelighter ability that has become less and less attuned to emotions. a whitelighter can sense when their charge is in trouble, but we really don’t get any other emotions. however, they can easily sense if there are people in a room, or if a being is evil (note: i know in the s5 opener when piper was kidnapped by necron leo’s like “all i’m sensing is courage” but my counterargument was that was not a normal emotion, that was a magically amped up backfire of a spell that suppressed other emotions and completely flooded one’s system with courage, so i don’t count that really. i would also add, as piper and leo share a very deep, very strong bond, it’s also likely that leo’s ability to sense piper is a lot higher than it would be with any of his other charges).

so now let’s jump to cupids. we have barely any canon on them (which i love), and what we do have i might very well ignore. (there’s a cupid judge?? all cupids are dead babies????? i’m..... yeah i’m not doing that.) the way i see cupids is as beings of love, who are very much ruled by their emotions (the real water signs of the magical world). we know from coop that beaming itself is about emotions, not logic. you can’t think of a place to get there, you feel it (which is why piper and leo kept fucking up their beaming destinations in the finale). when they sense, they sense love, they sense hurt, they sense fear, they sense caution, they sense hope. it’s not a physical thing, it’s not a mental thing, it’s pure, raw emotions. also just while i’m on the topic the way i think cupids work is that they’re just straight up vagabonds, they wander the earth just looking for instances to spark love, there’s no rhyme or reason to it. (like leprechauns how in canon “are like bees, they pollinate the world with luck.” it’s implied they don’t have charges/specific assignments to do with their luck, they just go where the vibes take them. that’s how i like to think cupids work. like love isn’t about reason or logic, so the way they operate shouldn’t be grounded in reason or logic). as far as a higher power they have to answer to, i don’t think that would come from within the cupids. i think while there is a vague social structure base off how long one has been a cupid for, there’s mostly just a sense of fraternity that links them all together. the higher power they answer to is the elders (who honestly i really don’t think they engage with the cupids like At All especially with their focused belief that logic and discipline should be the standard they just really don’t like the loosey goosey energy the cupids have. it think when they called coop bc they felt vaguely guilty for completely shafting her love life was probably the first time they reached out to the cupids in about a century or so).

So. now that i have talked extensively about both species, let’s get into what a cupidlighter would actually look like. for starters, the birth’s gonna be a scandal. romeo and juliet two households both alike in dignity a wild love affair a this a that the other it’s gonna be the talk of the whole magical community. and there are so many questions because how will this child age? which being would they elect to become? what powers will they have? so on and so forth. so two answer my own questions: a whitelighter was once human, and can become human again. it’s established immortality is a gift. i think cupids are naturally immortal (sidenote i think coop had to petition the elders to grant him the ability to age, which they weren’t too keen on bc they’re like dude we already let you marry a witch what more do you want and coop’s like .....to not watch my wife grow old without me??? and they’re like ughhhhhhh but then leo catches wind of this and orbs up there like heartless motherfuckers?? coop’s love for phoebe is pure don’t subject them to this horrible curse???? jesus christ aren’t you supposed to be the good guys? stop and think about your actions for like 90 seconds you callous fucks??? and the elders are like 😐😐 okay coop can age. and like the younger whitelighter are like can we talk like that? and the older ones are like nooooooo that’s a leo thing they like cannot kill him). so, in conclusion, i think a cupidlighter would age like a mortal, but at an insanely slow rate (think like asgardians to humans in the mcu. but like. maybe not that slow). what will they become, a whitelighter or a cupid: i think they would be raised/trained in the ways of both, and then once they’re like in their twenties you know they’ve been alive for almost a century they would probably settle and decide what they will act as, which really depends on who they are as a person (but let’s be real it’s gonna be cupids who wants to serve those stuffy ass elders with their suckass playbook). as to what powers they would have, i am honestly going to say All Of Them. because there’s no witch in them there’s no concept of a dominant/active power. so they just like. can do it all. (and hell yes to the orbeaming which i am definitely looks like orbing but instead of a blue light and tiny white orbs its a pink like with small ass lil hearts 💞💕). so the teleportation magic would fuse into a new power and the sensing would fuse into just a superior version of sensing, they can heal like a whitelighter they can manipulate time like a cupid they just. they get everything. But. a lot of the powers have different triggers than they normally would. i would say orbeaming would definitely be a more difficult form of teleportation to master than orbing or beaming on its own. i think the time manipulation, which should be ruled by the cupid half, would end up having a more whitelighter trigger, meaning they’re going to have to figure that one out on their own because the cupids don’t know how to teach it to them and the whitelighters don’t have that power. so while they really have a long list of powers, mastering them is much more difficult than it would be for any non-hybrid.

and if i’m doing a bonus round (and i’m Always doing a bonus round) here are my thoughts on a cupitchligher. so we’ve got a couple options here a cupitch was a relationship with a whitelighter a witchlighter has a relationship with a cupid a cupitch and a witchlighter have a relationship a cupidlighter has a relationship with a witch. i think i’ve covered all my bases. i also think all of these would yeild a great range of magic results, but the baseline common traits would be like 1. good person, like an incredibly good person bc they have the whitelighter instinct to help people in need the cupid impulse to spark and nuture love And on top of that the witch’s need to protect the innocent. bro you’ve got such a good person on your hands. and then 2. their witch powers would be amplified by their other halves. okay so you’ve got a tribrid so you know they’re already going to be strong but this is like a merphoenichaun where all the sides are magical but like,, unrelated, this is three sides working in absolute harmony to amplify one another. a witch’s powers come from their emotions and the cupid side helps boost that and the whitelighter side not only adds its own extra punch but it also works to hone it through the inherent discipline that has become ingrained into whitelighter dna.

[angelofwords-blog1]

Colors of the Soul

Destiel one shot

1,322 words

Warnings: none

I tried to sleep. I really did. But I just couldn’t.

The soft sheets felt like sand paper on my skin and the light blanket was heavy enough to bury me alive.

Knowing there was nothing I could do I sat up and stared at the clock. The minutes ticked from 2:17 to 2:22 to 2:29 before I took a deep breath and stood from the rock hard memory foam mattress. 

My feet shuffled across the room and I ran into the door frame in the dark. As soon as I flipped on the bathroom light I saw myself in the mirror. My hair was a vibrant rich black. As black as the bags under my eyes.

I had two options. Sit in the dark and do nothing while I pretended that my insomnia wasn’t a problem. Or get dressed and go to the twenty four hour tea and book shop down the road.

I slipped my feet into my favorite pair of converse sitting next to the door and grabbed the hoodie that was crumpled on the couch. To lazy to change I stayed in my fuzzy bumble bee pajama pants. Not that the people where I was going would care.

I knew what I would see when I got there. A sea of different colored hair. Some would be a deep red as they shared a recliner with the love of their life. While others would be a stark white as they panicked to get a school assignment done on time. But most would have the same pitch black as me.

The walk to the shop was a short one. Cold crisp morning air filled my lungs with every breath. The only light was from the street lamps posted every few feet down the side walk. Fallen leaves crinkled under my converse. Over all it was very peaceful and I knew my hair was fading from pitch black to a lighter shade of the depressed color.

The bell over the door didn’t chime. They silenced it years ago to not disrupt the other people.

Sweet smells wafted around me in greeting. They came from the case full of muffins, cookies, and pies that was located towards the back of the building. Soft chairs sat in circles and alone tucked into corners and in the middle of room. I wandered around them and let my hand drift across the book spines that lined the shelves that made up the walls.

I arrived at the counter and gave Chuck a half smile that was more exhausted then anything. He nodded at me with out a word and handed me a plate with a pumpkin muffin on it. Drifting mindlessly towards my usual armchair I let myself get lost in the sweet smell of baked goods, tea, and books. My finger dipped into the white frosting on the muffin and I didn’t think much of licking it off my finger. Sweet coconut exploded in my mouth as I smiled around my digit.

Glancing in the window before me I saw not only the street beyond but my own reflection. My hair was dulling even more into my natural black, less of the vibrant obsidian it was. No one moved outside as it was still so early but the dewy leaves that littered the ground glistened in the street lamps glare.

A ding came from my pocket and I cringed. I slipped my phone out and squinted at the harsh numbers that read 2:51. I ignored the text message that sat on the lock screen. A cup clinked down on the small table in front of me that separated my chair from the chair across the window. The steam from the Chai Latte spiraled towards the ceiling only to disappear before its destination.

“Thank you Chuck.” The words were soft and quiet and I didn’t quite believe were from my mouth. He sat down across from me.

“How have you been?” The concern in his eyes made me warm in my heart. “I’ve seen you in here more often then I should, Castiel.”

“You know this is where I come to relax. That’s what you made it be isn't it anyway? A safe place?” My voice was gruff as usual but still sounded weird to my ears. A blast of cold air hit me as the door opened and two big men walked in.

“That it is.” A gentle pat on the knee drew my eyes there while Chuck wandered away to greet the new customers at the counter.

Curling into a ball in my chair I sipped my coffee and munched on my half eaten muffin for a while. Content to stair out the window at the empty morning.

Once the burning liquid was not so hot and all gone I ran my finger around the rim of the glass. Sticking the foam covered finger in my mouth I had the thought that I should kick that habit. No one else wanted to see me eating with my hands.

A flash of color caught my eye that I hadn't seen before. The brightest pink I had ever seen was tucked into a back corner of the café. When I turned to glance at the man sporting the vibrant hair the equally vibrant green eyes lowered in embarrassment. He was the shorter of the two that had walked in a short time ago. His companion rolled his eyes and shook his head at the color next to him and then answered the phone in his hand.

The man had been staring, at me? His pink hair revealed the feelings that he was having. But he couldn't possibly be feeling that because of me, could he? He cleared his throat and the color faded to that of an awkward pink and less of the electric arousal.

My eyes didn’t leave his face. I was never one to care if I stared or not, which is why I still used my fingers to pick up the remaining crumbs of pumpkin. His cheeks flushed as his eyes followed the movements of my hands, making the freckles standout even more. Eyelashes fluttered as he glanced away, only to look back.

I didn't even notice that I was licking my fingers clean again when he made eye contact and didn't break it this time. He swallowed hard, full beautiful lips falling open. The locks on his head where back to the brightest pink I had ever seen.

Turning away quickly I stared at my reflection in the window again. My hair was the same shade as his. Shit. I heard the foot steps approaching behind me. They stopped and it was silent for a moment. I didn't move. His feet shuffled and then a slight cough sounded. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t. A voice of thick molasses and whiskey filled my ears. “Can I sit here?”

I shifted, not really acknowledging in one way or the other but letting him know I had heard. He took that as an invitation to sit down. I finally dragged my eyes up his body, which was clad in jeans, a black AC/DC shirt, and a tan flannel. What I saw was not the glaring pink but a soft peach. The color of romantic interest.

Green eyes met my deep blues and didn’t falter as his lips formed two more words, “I’m Dean.”

Heart pounding and lungs no longer working I stared at the beautiful man for a few more moments. Dean. The name tumbled around my head bouncing off the walls of my mind till it kicked all other thought out. Dean. His name was mountains and valleys. Rivers and forests. Adventures and staying home. Adrenaline and a sense safety. His name was the name of what could become the rest of my life. I just had to make a choice.

I extended my hand, “Castiel.”

[josephkitchen0]

The Phantom Chicken of London: Tastes Like Spooky!

What has feathers, a British accent and goes cluck in the night?

When we booked a trip to England this past summer, I wasn’t thinking, “Hey, let’s check out some ghost poultry while we’re gallivanting in jolly ol’!” In fact, I had no idea that feathery phantoms existed or that anyone would find an incorporeal hen alarming. She might even be cute, right? A clucking specter pecking the cobblestones, leaving eggs of a certain, unsettling transparency? Well, this chick (if she does exist) isn’t cute — she’s a killer.

Squawk!

It started with a tip from Richard Jones’ guidebook, Walking Haunted London (IMM Lifestyle Books, 2015). For some strange (uncanny?) reason, the word “chicken” jumped out at me from 146 pages of ghosts and ghoulies. We only had two days in England, though, so I added Phantom Chicken of Pond Square to the bottom of our sightseeing list, just in case.

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Peaceful Pond Square seems an unlikely venue for a poultry haunting but, then again, why not? London is full of strange stories like this weird tale of a ghost chicken.

We began the tour with more conventional scares, practicing ghost-hunting skills at the Tower of London (no dice) and then drawing blanks with werewolves at Tottenham Court Station and haunted highwaymen at Hampstead Heath. Determined to shiver our timbers nonetheless, we eventually set out to search for the chicken apparition on the last morning of our trip.

‘Twas a sunny day in midsummer when, truth be told, Pond Square doesn’t look scary at all. A peaceful park in the middle of bustling North London, it features the requisite red phone box, benches for lunch breaks and a scattering of crumb-seeking magpies and blackbirds. Not one hen in sight. The guidebook says the feathered phantom has appeared several times, usually descending from the skies on local denizens — an unsettling performance from any chicken, dead or alive! — but on this July day, even more unlikely than usual. With no obvious sign of the square’s macabre past (“Here Lies Phantom Chicken”), I snapped some pics anyway, hoping that when I got back to the computer, there might be a chicken-shaped blob of protoplasm hidden in the digital record.

Highgate Literary and Scientific Institution located right on hen-haunted Pond Square.

Then, I found it. The perfect place to test the veracity of an unlikely ghost story: Highgate Literary & Scientific Institution, founded 1839. A trove of dusty tomes and inveterate truth-seekers housed in a stately building waiting for its close-up in a steampunk version of a Sherlock Holmes novel. And right across the street from the haunted square — perfect! (Too perfect?) I didn’t pause to contemplate the coincidence.

This square denizen, a European Blackbird, declined to say whether he’s ever seen the avian phantasm.

Sticking my head through an open doorway, I spotted a literary and scientific gentleman ensconced in a comfy-chaired chamber.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m a reporter with Backyard Poultry magazine and I wonder if you know anything about the phantom chicken around here?” I blurted.

Alas, the nice man had never heard of a haunted avian, but he did know someone who might. As we headed into the bowels of the building (go back! go back!), I outlined what little bits I already had — chicken-phantom-comes down from the sky — and soon we arrived at the book-filled, nerve center of the operation. (Too late!) Several women, who preferred to be identified by first name only, listened politely to my outlandish tale then nodded.

They knew the ghost poultry!

“Margaret can tell you more,” Patricia said, referring to the librarian, who, echoing the chicken, descended from an overhead space (she used the stairs, however).

Paging Dr. Who: Presumably, you can call someone if a ghost chicken falls on your head (or steals your cellphone!).

The society’s in-house expert affirmed that, yes, she knew of the hen, and furthermore, she connected the bird to a real character from English history, Sir Francis Bacon. I’d read of the colorful demise of the science-mad Sir Francis but forgot his connection to chicken until that moment.  In Consider the Fork: A History of  How We Cook and Eat (Basic Books, 2012), British writer Bee Wilson describes how Bacon gathered snow to preserve a dead chicken and then died from a chill contracted during the experiment. Guidebook author Jones fills in some more details, including the fact that Bacon himself bought the chicken and had it dispatched. It wasn’t clear to me from Jones’ account but Margaret the librarian connected the clucks: the ghost chicken is the same chicken that Bacon had killed. How does a hen spell revenge?

Gulp!

Thanking the staff for their help in verifying the story, I hightailed it back to the square. Camera in hand, I scouted around the plain trees, looking for anything remotely eerie or diaphanous.

Finally, I approached two workmen sitting on one of the aforementioned benches and asked them if they’d seen any errant phantom poultry. They were as bemused as the fellow had been earlier and also unfamiliar with the vengeful hen. I apologized for disturbing their lunch but as they returned to their sandwiches, I ventured one last question:

“That wouldn’t happen to be a chicken sandwich, would it?”

It was.

I think the poor bloke shivered.

Lori Fontanes writes from New York, and occasionally pens something for us outside her usual column in Just for Fun.

Originally published in the October/November 2016 issue of Backyard Poultry magazine.

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The Phantom Chicken of London: Tastes Like Spooky! was originally posted by All About Chickens

[zippdementia]

Part 27 Alignment May Vary: Tinkering

By now my players are a pretty formidable three person fighting force. Abenthy is a power-tank, with AC of 24 due to the full plate armor he got from Mordekai, a magic shield he picked up... somewhere, can’t remember... some more magic AC items (which bring him to his maximum attuned) and some of his class abilities. Tyrion is very dextrous, plus he wears half plate and carries a shield, giving him 20 AC when he has the hand free to use it (18 when not). Karinna is fast, too, and with her elven armor she is not easy to hit--she has the lowest AC of the bunch at 17, which is still decent.

Monsters at this point are still rolling +4 to hit in most cases, meaning that they have to roll at least 13 to hit Karinna (doable), 14-16 to hit Tyrion (tough), and they have to critically hit Abenthy to get through his defenses. So how do you still challenge this team, as a GM? It’s a nice puzzle to solve and the next section of the adventure requires me to start solving it! This post talks through the remainder of the island of Rori Rama, covering DM tactics for changing encounters to make them fit your players without taking away the powers they have worked hard to attain and the play style they desire to stand by.

Reaching the Lizardfolk village, led there by “Small Threat,” the players are taken to the Lizardking ruler, a great beast of a creature who at first seems likely to eat them as much as parley with them. But he is impressed when Karinna (aided by Comprehend languages) manages to communicate with him in the lizard tongue, and shortly he tells them of the island, the location of the tomb, and the danger facing his people.

Ages ago, Haggemoth built his tomb here, protected by a great fortress manned by automatons and beasts of his creation or culling. Then, one day, he disappeared inside the tomb and was never heard from again. For many generations, few would dare to even approach, for fear of his guardians. But little by little, the Lizardmen’s courage grew and eventually they discovered the fortress abandoned. They then went to explore the tomb, and the things they found have kept even their children’s grandchildren from ever venturing back. The tale of the tomb’s horrors has been passed down without details through the lizardfolk. But now, circumstances may force them to reconsider, for a group of Bugbears, come here who knows how, have taken over the fortress and have begun launching raids on the lizardfolk. They strike at night, take children and kill warriors, steal food and burn homes. The entire civilization of these lizardfolk is at stake, yet the bugbears have too well fortified a position in the old dwarven fortress. The leader, Ruth’Nek, has hesitated to strike for fear of dashing his people against its battlements. Not only that, but the journey overland to the fortress is long, and riddled with dangers. Whispers speak of the “Heart of the Jungle” coming to take those who venture past the river.

Karinna uses her ability for flair and sympathy to earn the lizardking’s trust, and he agrees to send a handful of his warriors with them to the tomb, in the hopes they can drive out the Bugbears as part of their goal. He also gives them boats to take the river as far as they can, in hopes of avoiding the Heart of the Jungle.

Obviously, this all has a lot of set up and the purpose is to give the players a sense of both foreshadowing and preplanning. They will ultimately end up facing the Heart of the Jungle, and the bugbears, but the way they approach both situations ends up having a huge impact on how well the group fares. It also illustrates what I want to discuss about various options for challenging players.

This post covers about three or four sessions worth of information, so it’s going to be a big one. Might even break it up into two parts. In any case, ready? Let’s do it!

Big Heavy Hitter

Bad smell. 

That was what the lizard warriors were saying. Karrina’s spell gave her mastery of the language, but not an understanding of the meaning behind the words. She could see their unease, it had been present ever since they had entered this swampy part of the jungle. But now the lizardmen were practically shoving the group forward in their haste to leave the area. Karinna started towards one of the nearest ones, a scarred lizardman she believed was named “Two Tails,” or “Tooth and Nails” (sometimes the words slurred together, even with her spell). She intended to calm him and get an explanation, but suddenly she found herself unable to keep moving. Something had wrapped itself around her leg. She looked down and saw her leg was caught in a tangle of vines and weeds. Sighing, she knelt down to cut the vines and suddenly was on her back as the forest came alive around her, the vines whipping upwards and throwing her down as they did, then beginning to drag her towards a gap in the trees, where a large mound was rising up, horribly, out of the swamp...

Soon after leaving the Lizardfolk camp, the players are given a choice: continue on the river and end up in a lake that is known to be the home of a territorial monster, or cut through the center of the jungle. They chose the latter, and end up meeting the proverbial Heart of the Jungle, a Tendriculous. The Tendriculous is a third edition plant monster, notable for its weakness to acid instead of fire, its regeneration, and its swallow ability (which can put a real time limit on a battle, as they grab a player character, pull them from an entire battle, and restrain/blind/deafen them while they slowly get digested inside its belly). It is hampered by a very slow movement speed and poor AC. It also wasn’t stated out for fifth edition, giving me the opportunity to create it from scratch. I end up using Demongnomes Guide to Monsters as a base and then tweak things a little, mostly tuning down its swallow ability a bit, from working on anything that is grappled to being an action it has to take against something that’s within five feet.

The Tendriculous is a heavy hitter, a little bit like the Tyrannosaur I described last post. The idea is that it is a big honkin’ monster, probably just beyond the player level, but fairly easy to run from, and actually pretty beatable if they can learn its weakness.

Or, as the case turns out, if it doesn’t roll higher than an 8 more than four times in the entire battle. That is a lesson in itself. See, the Tendriculous is an example of one of those monsters where the answer to the question of how to threaten to players is to just make it hit goddamn hard, with big attack bonuses (+10 in this case) that can bust through even Abenthy’s AC. You want to use such monsters sparingly, or else it makes your players feel like you are just over leveling everything to always be one step beyond them. They are perfect for fights like this, against impressive boss monsters. But you also have to be willing to let such creatures not be impressive, if the dice dictate it. And in this case, even a +10, three times a round, doesn’t help much when I can’t seem to roll more than 8. The big honkin’ monster becomes a big honkin’ dud, but it doesn’t matter. The few hits it does get off are scary and, more importantly, the players feel like badasses for beating the Heart of the Forest into oblivion. They are a little shocked by how much experience it gives (”Really? For that thing?”) but happy to get the exp nonetheless. 

Monster Variety (AKA “oh shit that guy has class levels”)

The Bugbears came up to the crying child, chuckling evilly. “What can we do for you, little girl? You lost?”

“No,” Abenthy answered, pulling free the ring that he had gotten long ago at the LaCroix residence, the one that made anyone wearing it look like Charles LaCroix’s little girl. He swung his blade around before the Bugbears could respond. One’s head went flying off into the grass, the look of smug cleverness still plastered on its features. The others were slow to reach for weapons and paid for their delay with arrows in their throats, shot from Karinna and Tyrion, who rose, silent as ghosts, from the grasses.

“That’s one for both of us,” Tyrion admitted. “But mine was the cleaner shot.”

Even as he smirked, an arrow embedded itself in the ground at his feet and he yelped in surprise. In the distance, a hundred feet or more away, the squat dwarvem fortress was suddenly erupting, like a bee’s hive, with Bugbears. They clambored onto the ramparts, firing arrows and lobbing curses. Another arrow soared through the air, expertly aimed towards Tyrion’s face.

TING! The arrow flew off course as Karinna fired a bolt at it from her handbow.

“That’s two for me,” she said. “Or was that not clean enough?”

“Into the woods!” Abenthy called to the group, raising his shield to block another volley of arrows as he retreated. The group fell back towards a copse of trees, their companions charging forward across the plains to meet up with them: Verrick, the former traitor and spy for the Red Hand; Xaviee, Samuels, and Biggs, shipwrecked companions of the late Twyin; and the lizard warriors, crying out in jubilation at the successful ambush of the Bugbears.

Little did they all know that there were eyes in the woods, watching them approach and preparing an ambush of their own...

To break down the encounter into simple math, there are about 16 Bugbears hear at the old fort. Most are inside, a handful are outside, waiting to move silently in for stealth strikes against anyone attempting to seige the fort. The campaign module stats out two special bugbears: a shaman and a berserker/barbarian who leads the Buggies. I take it a step further in my conversion—because Bugbear swarms aren’t as much of a challenge in fifth as they were in Pathfinder, due to the lack of trip rules, big flanking bonuses, and some other minor details—and decide to make this fight contain a variety of differently classed monsters. This is one of my favorite techniques for adding challenge in a high level, or high magic item, campaign because it does so by adding a tactical challenge rather than simply outleveling player characters.

In this case, I use the wonderful (and newly available) Revenge of the Hordes to add some variety to the Bugbears, throwing in archers (who have a good chance of hitting even Abenthy as long as they don’t move on their turn) and a Hunter to ambush them in the woods, using his harpoon to pull Abenthy to the ground and delay him while his fellow, regular Bugbears, swarm the other players. I do buff the regular Bugbears a small amount, giving them a few basic fighter class levels in order to gain a +1 to their attack and damage rolls.

There is a wonderful Shaman template in the Hordes guide that I use mostly as is, though I tweak it down a bit to better match the healer/support template that the campaign intends. The leader Bugbear I build using the rules in the Dungeon Master’s Guide for adding class levels to a monster, and make a pretty impressive Barbarian Bugbear Chief, with mighty hitpoints, devastating damage attacks, and resistance to most damage. In a one-on-one against any single player character, this guy has the advantage.

All of these adjustments do not ensure a player loss. Instead, they ensure that the players can’t go head-on rushing into battle and expect to win. Thus, this encounter won’t devolve into a roll-battle. The players have to think tactically. And hopefully by doing so, you encourage your players to play the character they have wanted to, in combat. 

For instance, you have an AC 24 Paladin who wants to wade into battle like a tank? Let him! Build your monsters so that they are a minor challenge to him and most likely they will still be a huge challenge to the AC 17 wizard hiding behind him. When those monsters rush past him and charge the wizard, this creates a fun challenge for the Paladin: how does he regain control of this scene? How does he taunt and engage these monsters? How does he position himself to block their access to the rest of the party (and bonus points if he yells “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”)

My players are great in these tactical situations: they respond quickly and briliantly to the challenge, dispatching the ambushers as fast as they can and then choosing the woods as their battleground, forcing the majority of the Bugbears to come to them. Tyrion launches a well timed Hypnotic Pattern at the rushing horde that causes three of them to drop immediately from the fight. The remainder Karinna confounds by using her Cloak of Darkness (gained from Mordekai back in Celaenos) to devastating effect. The way I designed this particular cloak:

Cloak of Darkness (damaged) Requires Attunement Can be used once a day, resets with the rising of the sun Action: Casts Darkness as per the spell in a twenty foot radius out from the Cloak. The spell requires concentration and can be ended as a free action. Otherwise, it lasts for one minute. One difference between this and regular darkness is that, while wearing the cloak, the user can see five feet inside this darkness. Can be dispelled with a lvl three or higher light spell.

This is an assasin’s dream cloak! The regular Darkness spell has two uses: either to quickly create a smoke screen so wizards, rogues, and other ranged or injured fighters can escape combat, or to create a hampering wall to slow the approach of a rushing horde of melee fighters or a very powerful monster. This cloak adds the nasty ability of letting the user wander more or less freely around the darkness, getting advantage attacks off on those they encounter. Combine this with a rogue’s sneak attack ability and it turns them into a walking death reaper, making this cloud of darkness a terrifying place to be for Karrina’s enemies.

This gets back to a gaming philosophy I embrace as DM: encourage your players to play the character they want to be. If you have a ranger in the group who wants to be a Ghost Recon sniper, then build scenarios and magic items that let them achieve that. Karinna has always favored a sneaky backstab style of attack, so this was designed to encourage that in combat. It is  balanced by the fact that it can only be used in one combat a day, meaning it usually gets saved for the big encounters, and by the fact that it CAN be dispelled by either striking Karinna (again, encouraging that stealthy play) or by using Light level 3—which gives me a way, as GM, to ensure it doesn’t break the game or become the team’s answer to every big fight. As they level and start encountering more enemies with classes, spellcasters will have a way around this tactic, letting the challenge eventually level with them.

For now, though, this is a highly effective tactic against the Bugbears. It turns the forest into a shadowy arena of death and effectively cuts off the leader and shaman from the main troops. They are tough challenges on their own, especially with the shaman boosting the big bad’s health as he bears down on Abenthy, but after two sessions of trading blows, the player team comes out victorious and the Bugbears flee, most of them getting shot down as they run, including the Shaman who takes a critical hit arrow in the throat from Karinna.

Bluffs and Twists

The bridge loomed ahead of them. Perhaps once it had had rails or decorations but if so time had erased them. It had lost none of its grandeur, though. The sheer span it covered, over a hundred feet crossing the great river below. Abenthy was first to cross, with Tyrion and the soldiers close behind, and Karinna and Verrick making up the rear.

A blur of motion, hot breath against her neck, sharp claws digging into her shoulder—these were the sensations Karinna experienced as the Bugbear leader wrapped a meaty arm around her neck. His blood, pouring copiously from his many wounds, splashed across her black clothes, and the smell of him was like regurgitated milk and garlic.

He said nothing, only growled as he lifted a circular pouch in one hand and ripped its top off with his teeth. The pouch began to smoke and sputter with sparks. He held tight to Karinna and began to laugh, but the hoarse chuckle turned into a groan of pain as Karina drove her elbow deep into his abdomen and squirmed free of his grasp. Not wasting any time, she and Verrick began to run. Tyrion and Abenthy stared, neither yet quite comprehending what had just happened.

RUN! Karinna screamed, but the words were only forming in her mind before the explosion tore her from her feet. The world spun. Karina saw flame and heard the cracking of stone as the power the Bugbear had unleashed engulfed the creature, the bridge, and Karina and her companions. A ringing in her ears only grew worse as she lifted her head to look around. The bridge spun into focus, though she still felt sickly dizzy, like she was laying against a stone wall, defying gravity, looking down at an opening in the cliff where the tomb entrance was.

The sonic wave that had followed the explosion had knocked her flat, and thus she had avoided the worst of the flames. Tyrion had not been so lucky. His hair and eyebrows burnt away, the halfing looked oddly doll-like. He was lying on his back, his blackened hands curled into claws, his lips charred and pulled back from gums that were rippling with bright pink burnt skin. Abenthy was running to him, lifitng him, shouting something to Karina that she could not hear, and then tearing back (down?) across the bridge towards the tomb, the three soldiers following. She felt the bridge shake underneath her.

Suddenly she was pulled to her feet. Verick had a hold of her arm. She looked past him and saw the bridge collapsing around them. Now she knew why Abenthy had run, and Verick was doing the same, pulling her along. Why wouldn’t her legs work? They felt like dead stumps, each step she took radiating both numbness and a prickly pain that caused her to grind her teeth together. She was stumbling, not running, and she wasn’t going to make it.

Verrick spun her to face him then and his lips moved, but she couldn’t make out the sound of his voice. He shoved her, hard, and she flew backwards, tripping over herself and falling into Abenthy’s waiting arms as the bridge fell, and Verrick fell with it.

When she could hear again, the first sound she heard was her own sobbing scream. There was no answer from below. Verrick was gone.

Two more quick challenge options I want to discuss. The first targets players directly, through your NPCs. It is “bluffing,” meaning to give your players misinformation every once in a while, generally through NPCs that are lying to them. How many of you (DMs) have had player parties get so strong that they begin to intimidate their opponents into giving them information? The enemy castle layout, the password to the guard station, the time for the secret drop off, the name of the secret leader of the Dragon Cult... by strong arming some weakling goblin or kobold, the players get the information they need (and then maybe they cut off the poor bastard’s head for good measure). And this is all fine, it’s a great way to empower the players, to reward them for not slaughtering all their opponents, to hand them out information in interesting ways, and to move the plot forward. It’s also a great way to occasionally mislead them.

Even the weakest goblin is not always going to want to play fair in defeat—whether to spite their enemies or because they figure they are dead anyway—and their answers might not always be accurate. To use the above examples: the map they draw for them leads them directly into a trap; the password they tell is actually a code word to sound the alarm; the time for the secret drop off is a day late; the person they name as the leader of the Cult is innocent, and an enemy of the goblins that the goblins want killed. In our game, the players storm the fortress and take out the remaining bugbears (though the leader is missing). They are then debating resting, but the last bugbear tells them as he dies that the full hoard is returning in a few hours and will avenge him! It is a lie, but the players believe it and put off sleeping, which allows them to walk unprepared into the trap laid by the leader bugbear.

The other option targets the characters more directly. When you want to challenge a character, you can do so in the form of situational twists. A twist is something that characters must react to immediately, usually via a saving throw or series of saving throws. They aren’t exactly traps, but they function similar, only it is the plot or situation that triggers them, not stepping on a pressure plate or opening a treasure chest. The nice thing about saving throws is that, no matter how epic the situation, they can resolve it in a roll or two. And the DM can build them to be as challenging as they desire or need for the moment. For instance, for a high level party, you could feasibly set up a battle on a ruined land where the ground is splitting open and swallowing up the battling armies. To keep their feet, players have to make DC 14 STR checks, falling prone if not. Then the ground opens up and the players have to leap clear (disadvantage for anyone who is prone) Dex Save DC 18. Anyone who fails, falls in a crevice and takes 9d6 damage. The remaining players can try to navigate a path through the forming chasms as they open in front of them, which is a Wis DC 20 save, failure meaning they have to repeat the STR and DEX saves from before. A couple of rounds of this, and then you see which players have fallen in a chasm and which haven’t. Now the players have to figure out how to get free...

That’s an off-the-cuff example, but it illustrates the point. An epic moment created with just a few rolls and also you created an unusual challenge for the players that avoids the standard attack vs. AC that can get old session after session. It keeps players thinking about their characters in more holistic terms, not just as combat machines.

In our game, the twist is that the boss bugbear (who is a berserker, keep in mind) has a potion the shaman made that is basically a hand grenade. He intends to suicide bomb the last person on the bridge, hopefully taking them all out. I make this a deadly situation to raise the tension on the scene and provide a proper climax to such a big fight, so I have Karinna make a grapple save (failure would be instant fail of the bomb’s blast damage), then the bomb goes off, forcing Dex saves to avoid fire damage. Then the bridge starts to collapse, forcing Dex saves to avoid falling into the chasm. And failure of this roll? With my players so close to finally entering the tomb, I don’t feel like death is an appropriate penalty for failing the save. Oh, it is definitely a possibility: had Karinna not tried to break free, the blast might have killed her straight out. Had Abenthy not run forward to grab Tyrion, his unconscious body would have plumeted to the depths below with little for him to do but drown in the river. But these situations called for player decision. This roll is simply a roll: luck. I don’t want to cheaply end their adventure like that. And this is one of the many uses of retainers.

I’ll talk more about this next post but one of the reasons I came up with a system to make retainers act like items the party can use is that I feel it gives them a clearer role in the game and thus the story. Players identify more with active characters and there is few things as active as having an NPC they can use to help them win combats. In addition, our remaining NPCs have been tied to character stories. Xaviee, Samuels, and Biggs are all former allies of the deceased Tywin. And Verrick started as an enemy way back in session 6, then became an ally and eventual love interest for Karinna. That makes these characters amazing sacrifices for scenes like this, and I set them up as the failure options for the bridge breaking roll. Losing them has both a story impact and a game impact, as they lose their help in the upcoming tombs. But it still keeps the main story going and doesn’t end the game on a sour note, but rather a powerfully tragic one.

Next session’s post will cover the first part of the Tomb of Haggemoth and will take us through the converted final dungeon step by step. I will also go over how I like to run retainers. Verrick may be lost, but the three soldiers are still standing with this team, and I came up with a new system for 5E to represent them.