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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!bee, shibari/bondage, sex swing, fingering, safewording situation, aftercare, exhibition, voyeurism

A/N: chapters may not come every week, but i am continuing to post them now xx i appreciate your patience

DAY TWENTY-TWO

Normally, getting a text at ass o’clock in the morning would annoy Hoseok. Normally, he’d deny the offer to get out of the warmth of his bed and go down and have ‘a chat’ with someone at ass o’clock in the morning -

But then again, his bed is a little too warm with an extra body in it. Perhaps going downstairs is the better option. He rolls over gingerly, glaring at the man in bed beside him, separated by a wall of spare pillows. His blue hair doesn’t seem as harsh in the dim pre-dawn light, and his lips are plumper than ever, slightly pouted in his sleep. He looks peaceful, no lines on his face even though he’d gone to bed wearing makeup. One tiny hand rests propped underneath his face, making his cheek bulge, and the other clutches intermittently at the duvet, like he’s caught up in a dream. Park Jimin looks so content and angelic in his sleep. Hoseok narrows his eyes. Little shit.

It’s easy enough to get dressed and ready without disturbing the sleeping demon. Well - truthfully, he’s just shrugged on a hoodie over his sleep shirt and sweatpants to make them look less like pyjamas, but still.

By the time he gets downstairs, grimacing at the sharp lights of the kitchen, Namjoon is practically chewing a hole through the lid of a plastic bottle, gnawing at it with eyes rounded with worry.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Hoseok rushes forward, gently tugging the half-empty bottle out from between the younger man’s teeth, giving him a soft but reproachful look. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Namjoon startles with the sudden motion, eyes blinking slowly in a way that speaks to a lack of sleep the night before. “Oh good, you came,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I’m kinda freaking out.”

Hoseok’s brow pinches with concern. “I did notice that. You seemed pretty carefree yesterday; what’s changed?”

The academic bites his lip. “Sunmi was talking to me. Did you know basically everyone else is in a relationship?”

Whatever Hoseok was anticipating, it certainly wasn’t that. “Huh?”

Namjoon nods, frantic. “Y/n got together with Jimin and Tae, but now they’re kind of not? - I don’t know, Sunmi wasn’t that bothered about the details - and then Yoongi and Jin had their thing, obviously, but now Jungkook has a thing with Yoongi, and Tae and Jungkook have been fooling around too, and it’s like we’re the only ones left out. I didn’t even realise it, but we’re the leftovers, Hobi-hyung.”

Even as that comment sends a dagger right through him, Hoseok keeps his face neutral. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Namjoon. Nobody’s trying to leave us out.”

“I know that,” Namjoon replies quickly, an earnest nod, “it’s just that- Well, I want that, Hobi-hyung. I want to sneak around, I want to hold hands, I want to feel what it’s like. It’s not that I’m annoyed at the others, it’s just… it’s highlighted yet another area that I’m a total virgin in. I’m sick of always feeling behind on these things. I’m sick of it never being me.”

Hoseok swallows, reaching around to pat Namjoon on the back in what he hopes his a comforting gesture. This wasn’t as straightforward as aftercare; Namjoon was seriously hurting. “Listen, Joon, if you want to get into a relationship of any sort with them, you need to talk to them directly-”

“But I don’t,” the academic cuts off, looking more vulnerable than ever. In plaid pyjamas and round glasses with lenses thicker than the frames, hair still mussed up from restlessness, he looks totally lost. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. It’s like… I wouldn’t write an essay and hand it in straight away, you know? I’d write an outline, and then a draft, and I’d use the draft to make edits and write a second draft, and eventually I’d write the final product and submit it. Do you get it?”

Hoseok presses his lips together. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Namjoon bites down hard on his lip, making the flesh go white, and bloom red when he lets go to speak. “Hobi-hyung,” he begins slowly, “are you interested in any of the people here romantically? Are you wanting to get into a relationship like that?”

Fear shoots through Hoseok instinctively, but it’s soothed by the reassurance, it’s Namjoon. He can be honest with Namjoon. “No,” he admits, waiting for his face to fall.

Instead, the opposite happens. Namjoon’s brows smoothen with visible relief. “I want you to be my first draft, hyung.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “Now would be a great time for you to explain the metaphor, Joonie.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath and slips off his glasses, blinking owlishly like being a little blind is preferable before he speaks. “I want to pretend to date you, just for a bit. Just to see what it’s like. It can be a trial run, we’ll stop whenever we want. But you’re the only one in this house I trust like that.” He pauses, fingers twitching where they rest clasped in his lap. “Feel free to say no, though.”

Perhaps Hoseok’s mind is a little slow from waking up, but he barely comprehends the implications of what Namjoon is telling him. “You felt left out when the others were trying to have secret relationships or sneak around the rest of us… so you want to… pretend to do that?”

“Well- no, we wouldn’t have to hide it,” Namjoon says slowly, fingers reaching for the water bottle. Hoseok lets him have it, but watches out to make sure he doesn’t begin gnawing on the lid again. “I just think it would be nice to be the one doing couple stuff for once, don’t you think?”

Upon hearing these words, Hoseok begins to feel his very bones shake. It’s the uncontrollable trembling that seems to pass over him every time he gets close to breaking the seal - close to coming out. As always, he has a choice. It only takes one more look at the openness on Namjoon’s face to decide. “Joonie, I’m aromantic.”

Namjoon sucks in a silent breath of surprise. “Huh? Really?”

Now that it’s out there, the silence feels so much more deafening. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what to say. Should he explain himself, apologise, give excuses-?

“That doesn’t change my opinion of you, you know that, right?”

Hoseok blinks. Namjoon seems more awake now, more alert and calm. “I- What do you mean?”

“You’re my best friend on this show,” Namjoon admits shyly, “you’ve taught me a lot, and I feel so safe with you. I didn’t come to you because I thought you’d want to actually date, so please don’t think I’m going to feel disappointed. It’s really special that you felt comfortable enough to- oof!”

Before Namjoon finishes, Hoseok is barrelling him over in a tight hug. Namjoon’s arms bracket around him, and the dom could just about purr with the warm fuzzy happiness that bubbles in his chest. “Oh, Joonie! You’re my best friend here too!”

Namjoon hugs him tighter now. “I’m so glad, hyung,” he murmurs softly.

Not wanting to leave this embrace, Hoseok lets his eyes slip closed and rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. “I think fake-dating sounds kinda fun, by the way. We can take the b out of bromance. I wanna see how the others react.”

Just as the breathy sound of Namjoon’s gleeful laughter light his ears, a darker, more bemused chuckle drowns it out.

“Fake dating, huh?” a voice drawls, causing the two of them to jump apart like they’d been stung. “As if things couldn’t get any cheesier around here.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes, looking even more disheveled than when Hoseok first saw him. “Yoongi?”

Hoseok swallows as the raven-haired, cat-eyed beauty standing across from them scowls. “Not quite, buddy.”

The academic fumbles for his glasses and slips them on, gasping as Min Yoonji comes into perfect focus. “Oh! Uh, good morning! You can ignore what you just saw and heard.”

“Absolutely not,” she counters easily, sitting gracefully on a stool at the breakfast bar. Far more awake and presentable than the two of them, she looks sleek and fashionable in a pale silver blouse, black sash tied around the collar, and sleek black pants. Her eyes rake over the two of them, mouth turned down in a frown. “No one would believe it,” she says finally.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok questions, feeling distinctly like a petri dish being studied by a disdainful scientist. He spares a glance at Namjoon, who shifts uncomfortably and fiddles with his pyjama sleeves.

Yoonji just shrugs like it’s obvious. “If you told them now that you’re dating, they’d assume it was a joke. You need to set it up, build a narrative,” she explains. “How about this? I’ll spread a rumour that I saw the two of you making out down here, then you lay down some clues like sneaking off together or fucking each other with your eyes over the dinner table, and boom, everyone will think you’re boning. Bonus points if you can get someone else in on it.”

The two stay silent for a few seconds before they realise Yoonji is waiting for an answer. “Uh,” Hoseok states eloquently.

“Thank you?” Namjoon questions.

Yoonji huffs, eyes rolling skywards. “You two are hopeless. I’ll do what I can, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Are we- what- is this a deal? Are you negotiating with us?” Namjoon stammers, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses with the edge of his shirt even though they were fine before.

“There is no negotiation,” she explains. “I’ll keep your secret and help you. In return, you need to send me a text the second Yoongi tries to put the moves on anyone so I can get the fuck out of the house. I’m not asking for much, but it is very important to me.”

The absurdity of the situation dawns upon Hoseok suddenly, and an unstoppable grin stretches across his face. “It was never about helping us, was it? You just wanna make sure you don’t accidentally walk in on your brother getting railed.”

Yoonji grimaces sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to dispel the thought. “If you aren’t interested in the deal, I’ll find someone else to blackmail, simple as that.”

“We can do it!” Namjoon volunteers, straightening his back.

Hoseok quickly nods in agreement, watching Yoonji’s shoulders dip in relief. “Sounds fair,” he summarises, “but we’ll need your phone number to do that.”

Yoonji does an almost perfect job of masking her pleased smile with a pointed glare. “Give me your phones, then.”

By the time everyone is seated (bar Yoonji, who has apparently taken over her brother’s room to watch Netflix while the rest of you talk ‘business’) and Sejin walks in, you’ve made your decision.

Unlike the first week, the individual doesn’t know in advance, and it’s this guilt that makes you stubbornly avoid eye contact with them all.

Taehyung had also been given the pass to not join the meeting, but he’d shown up anyway for morale. Or, rather, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and taking a nap on your shoulder. You couldn’t deny it was comforting to feel his body heat, albeit unconscious.

Yoongi sits on the other side of Taehyung, luckily not pressuring you into conversation, and the two other couches are making conversation amongst themselves when Sejin cuts them short to start the meeting.

“Thank you for being punctual, everyone!” he begins cheerily. Perching on the edge of the coffee table, he rubs his palms together. “It’s time again for the elimination vote. Before I ask Y/n to make her decision, the current six Gentlemen have the chance to defend their position in the game. Starting from the left with you; Namjoon.”

Fuck. Now is the point where you can no longer avoid eye contact with everyone. Leaning into Taehyung’s embrace a little more - the sleeping boy grumbling as you shift beneath him - you look up tentatively towards Namjoon.

He looks a little nervous, but no more than he usually gets in these meetings anyway. Hoseok’s hand rests on the back of the couch behind the academic, who seems perfectly comfortable in the crook of Hoseok’s arm. “Y/n,” he begins, clearing his throat with a brief smile, “I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you so much, this past week especially. I know I still have some catching up to do when it comes to prowess in the bedroom, but I feel myself improving and once again I’m asking you to be patient with me, and keep me in the game a little longer so that I can do better next week, and the week after that.” He does a cute little nod when he’s finished, cheeks slightly pink.

Hoseok sighs out dramatically when his turn is signified, not shifting from his position. “I’m not above bribery, Y/n. If you keep me in this competition, I’ll take you to my workplace tonight and we can have a good time. If you vote me out, our little excursion will be to the worst Italian restaurant in Gangnam and order a margarita pizza with no cheese or sauce, extra anchovies and pineapple. And we won’t leave until you eat at least your half of the pizza.” He narrows his eyes at you, playful even in the face of elimination. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shoulders jerking with the force of it. Roused from sleep by your movements, Tae pouts and rubs at his eyes. Even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, he looks so gorgeous that it takes your breath away. As he sits up and adjusts his position, leaning with his back against your side and tugging your arm over him like it’s a blanket, you can’t help but feel a pang of regret for voting him out so soon when you like him so much.

You bite down hard on your tongue, wincing at the pain. Would you come to regret the decision you’re making this morning, too?

Jin is next, and your heart thumps a little faster when you meet his gentle gaze. “I don’t have a lot to say,” he admits slowly, “at least, nothing that I haven’t already said to you. Spending time with you in any context is the highlight of my week, and I sorely hope that I don’t lose you just yet.”

That’s it for the couch to the left of you. Relieved nobody is expecting you to actually respond to these, you give Jin a tight smile and turn to Yoongi, staring at him over Taehyung’s bedhead.

Yoongi shrugs. “Y/n, I think you and I make a really good team. We’re compatible sexually, we get along well outside of that, and I know that you see it too. I’m pretty confident that I’m not the one going home this week.” You let out a light scoff at his faux air of certainty.

Finally, Jimin and Jungkook remain on the last couch. Jungkook is closer to you, so he’s next in line. The bright red streaks of his hair have faded a little, more rosy than before. It makes him look even softer as he sits cross-legged on the couch, the long sleeves of his baggy black shirt tangled up in his lap. He looks genuinely worried, unable to front a smile to you. “Um, I would-” He breaks off suddenly as his nose twitches. “I’d be really sad if you eliminated me,” he confesses in a small voice. “I don’t wanna guilt trip, but, um, I really wanna stay in.”

Your heart aches at the way he drops his chin and stares at the carpet blankly. Beside him, Jimin looks equally pained, and his voice is softer than usual when he speaks up.

“In terms of defending my place in the game,” Jimin says slowly, “I can promise that I’ll keep things different and exciting every week for you and that things will be a lot more fun if you keep me in.” He eyes crinkle fondly. “But I trust your decision either way.”

You suck in an unsteady breath. With everyone’s petitions complete, there’s nothing standing between you and the decision you have to make. Though his words cut right to you, the person you’d chosen earlier hasn’t changed.

Sejin clears his throat after giving you a moment to think. “Who are you choosing to eliminate this week, Y/n? As per the current rules, they’ll be removed from the competition, but allowed to remain in the house on the grounds that they do not initiate any sexual contact with you.”

Making like Jungkook, you lower your gaze to the floor. “First of all,” you start, hating the way your voice sounds so small, “you’re all amazing. Just like last week, there’s no- there’s no easy choice. No matter who I choose it’s going to suck for us both, and I’m sorry about that.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think of the right way to phrase your thoughts. “I’m choosing this person because I think that while the sex has been, um, really good-” it’s futile to fight the blush on your cheeks but you duck your head lower anyway, “-it’s maybe not as exciting week to week as some of the other guys.” The eyes on you feel like redhot pressure points, and you try and loosen the tightness in your chest. “And if I’m totally honest, I think- I really like this person, but I think I’d feel a little more comfortable being able to explore that without the pressures of the competition.”

It’s the least you can do to lift your gaze up and to the left, giving him the dignity of a proper sendoff. “I’m sorry, Jin, it’s you this week.”

Perhaps the worst part of this morning is that Jin seems genuinely caught off-guard.

Or perhaps the worst part is the way his face falls into something grave and icy, standing up so abruptly that Hoseok recoils beside him.

Your heart sinks, your voice drowned out by Sejin’s even as you call out the same name.

“Jin,” Sejin commands, “you have to come back to- Jin!”

Though he was already halfway to the front door, Jin stiffly turns around and waits in the doorway. His eyes actively avoid you, glaring at the wall. Sejin excuses himself and takes him aside to give him the instructions on how to proceed.

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you, pooling in your stomach, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes as Tae wriggles around beside you, pulling you into a hug.

You feel fingers card through your hair, even as his two hands stroke your back and hold you close. Glancing up, you’re met with the sight of Yoongi’s face, pained with sympathy, as he gently pats your cheek and continues to brush your hair.

“He hates me,” you murmur miserably.

Yoongi doesn’t contradict you, just letting out a sad sigh. “He’s upset,” he admits, “but he’s a strong guy. He’ll move past it.”

You protest weakly as Taehyung coos softly and pulls you closer, practically tugging you onto his lap so your legs hang over one side and your torso is snug in his embrace. The guilt is far worse this week than it was last time. It constricts your lungs, your veins, makes you feel weak with dread. “He likes me. He likes me and I did that to him.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we all like you,” Yoongi says, his hand falling to cup yours, swirling lazy circles on the skin of your palm.

“Not like that,” you counter, “not like Jin does.”

For a moment it seems like Yoongi is going to disagree with that, but he drops it, squeezing your hand and standing up. “I’m going to make us something to eat. Maybe a hot stew would cheer everyone up a little bit.”

The chances are low, you think, but you would never turn down his food. “Sejin still hasn’t assigned the new prompts and told us about the new week, though,” you point out, glancing over to the two men still in the doorway. Even seeing Jin for a second jolts you like an electric shock, so you turn and bundle your face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, feeling the soft fibres of his box-knit cardigan against your chin.

“Then Sejin can make himself useful and chop some vegetables while he does it,” Yoongi counters with a pompous sniff as he leaves, and in spite of your own misery, a chuckle overcomes you at the thought of it.

“There’s that smile,” Taehyung croons, a finger tipping your chin up. His eyes are two brown pools of comfort that you can’t help but get lost in. “Jin will survive. I did!”

You straighten up once you hear the sound of shoes approaching again, smile dropping. But this time Sejin stands alone.

“Yoongi, out of the kitchen, please,” the producer sighs.

With one foot hovering over the border where carpet meets tile, Yoongi freezes. “I’ll make you an extra serving,” he bargains, “you can even pick the meat.”

“Out of the kitchen,” Sejin repeats in a stern voice, “can we have at least some decorum during the meeting?”

“But I’m hungry,” he defends. Sejin doesn’t reply, simply flattening his gaze. As everyone waits, Yoongi slinks back like a sulking cat, perching on the edge of the couch beside you and Taehyung with his arms crossed in defiance. “Do I get to pick out the prompts again?”

“No. Let’s get started, please.” Taking a breath so deep it lifts his shoulders, Sejin calms himself and clears his throat, standing in front of the seven of you. “The theme of this week is Limited Edition. I’ve got five prompts here; come up in any order.”

Taehyung slides you off his lap so smoothly that you barely notice it’s happened before he’s standing up with a stretch, waltzing towards Sejin’s outstretched hand.

Sejin realises at the last minute and tugs his hand back the second Taehyung’s fingers brush one of the slips of paper. “Taehyung, you know you can’t take a prompt. Sit down.”

Without pause, Taehyung spins on his foot, strolling right back to your couch as if nothing was amiss. “Worth a shot,” he mutters when he sits back down beside you. You know this is just his attempt at cheering you up, but that doesn’t make it work any less. Tucking your arm around his, you lean into him and watch as the first actual contestant takes his prompt.

It’s Yoongi up first, clearly wanting to expedite the process as much as possible, but when he snatches the topmost fold of paper, the text written inside gives him pause. His brows furrow, then lift in realisation, before he collapses back beside you, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch thoughtfully.

Jimin is next, selecting the next one in the splayed-out pile. His head cocks to the side, turning to Yoongi with a curious look. “Oh,” he comments mildly.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, and Hoseok, who’d previously been stunned into silence with Jin’s sudden mood change, springs up with a huff.

“What is this oohing and aahing all about,” he grumbles, quickly picking a prompt and holding it close to his chest like he’s worried someone will peek. The second he looks at his, however, his face falls. He tries to recover with a light laugh, but you don’t miss the way he eyes the remaining slips in Sejin’s hand like he longs to trade his in.

He sits down though, patting Namjoon’s thigh to get him to go up. Oddly enough, Namjoon also looks stricken when he reads his prompt, showing it to Hoseok with a nervous gnawing of his lip.

Jungkook is the last one left, and at this point you’re uncontrollably curious but also wary about what these prompts could contain. Interestingly, though, Jungkook doesn’t seem disappointed or worried, but instead scrunches his nose and giggles at the prompt, tucking it into his pocket before joining Jimin and poking his side until the older man shows him his prompt, snickering even more at the sight of it.

“Alright,” Sejin starts, cutting off your train of thought, “now that we’ve finished that, the last point of discussion is the Bangasm Bomb. This week, the special challenge is called Viewer’s Choice. Each day, there will be a random poll taken on the official Bangasm twitter. It will correspond to each prompt, and the next morning, one of you will get a text. That means you have to complete your prompt that day, using the winning vote of the poll. If you fail to include this aspect, you’ll fail overall even if you successfully completed the actual prompt. Make sense?”

Jungkook stares blankly. “Could we have an example?”

Sejin shrugs. “The first poll was posted at 10am this morning. The four options are: standing, lying down, sitting and kneeling. Whichever position wins the poll must be included in the scene tomorrow. If, tomorrow morning, you get a text from me with one of these options, that means you need to complete your prompt that day using the winning option of the poll.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, mulling it over, “yeah, I get it now. So we don’t get to choose when we go?”

“Not this week, no,” Sejin explains, and then clears his throat. “Well, then. That’s all from me! I need to go make sure Seokjin is behaving.”

The mention of the recently-eliminated member sobers everyone up. Yoongi returns to the kitchen with less vigor than before, Hoseok joins him to make himself a drink, Jungkook comes over to the couch with you and Taehyung and wedges himself between the two of you, so sullen he doesn’t even speak.

In the end, the seven of you decide to eat lunch in front of the television, putting on a mindless sitcom that nobody really focuses on. Yoonji comes down once Yoongi texts her for lunch, and she sits on the floor with her bowl propped up on the coffee table.

Time passes, and Jin doesn’t return inside.

For a while, there’s an unspoken assumption that he’s still in the confessional shed with Sejin doing his exit interview, but once Jimin pokes his head out the front door and sees the producer working away in the production van, that idea is shattered.

“He’s okay, right?” Taehyung asks abruptly as a laugh track echoes hollowly around the room.

No one needs to ask who he is. Yoongi shrugs. “He’s an adult,” he offers, but the glint of concern is as much alight in his eyes as anyone else’s.

The thought only sustains peace amongst you for so long. Jungkook is glum, Hoseok looks anxious, Namjoon grows restless and begins chewing the end of one of his chopsticks. Even Yoonji has her brows furrowed, jaw tense.

Eventually, your worry overcomes you, and you grab the remote and mute the TV, pitching the room into silence. “I’m going to find him,” you announce.

“Y/n…” Yoongi says reluctantly, but your mind is made.

Not bothering with shoes, you unlock the front door again and slip outside, immediately turning the perimeter to go look for the missing gentleman.

Half-expecting him to be sulking in the confessional booth still, a strike of alarm thuds in your chest to find it empty. You inspect the poolside, the patio and outdoor dining area, but Seokjin’s nowhere to be found.

It’s just as you’re about to give up and return inside that you spot him.

Barely more than a smudge in the distance, you see his tall figure sitting, hunched up, on the very outskirts of the gravel path. He picks up pieces of rock, throws them half-heartedly, and he’s so far away that you can’t even hear them clatter. You recoil at the lonely sight, fighting the urge to run to him.

When you return inside, all eyes are on you. “He’s right on the edge of the property,” you explain miserably, “as far away from me as he can get.”

“Oh, Y/n,” Jimin says softly, eyes brimming with sympathy. From the silence around the room, there’s not much else to say.

You bite your lip. “He probably doesn’t want to talk to me, but can someone please go get him before it gets dark? I’m going to my room for a bit.”

Nobody protests, and you heave yourself up the stairs. By the time you flop onto the bed in your room, door locked behind you, you feel heavier than solid stone.

You’re too distressed to sleep, but guilt pulls at your limbs and leaves you unable to get out of bed for the rest of the day.

By the time you’re called down to go on your excursion with Hoseok, part of you wants to cancel and wallow in your self-pity a little longer. But Hoseok had clearly been looking forward to it so much, and you can’t deny the allure of escaping the Villa, even if only for a few hours.

Hoseok beams at you warmly as he greets you at the car idling outside. With his hair fluffy over his brow but his clothes sleek black, he’s like an enticing halfway point between Hoseok and Master. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting his clear skin in a rich orange glow. “Ready?”

You return his smile, albeit with a little less vigor. “Let’s get out of here.” When the two of you get inside the car and it pulls down the driveway, there’s no lone figure throwing stones on the perimeter of the property. Your heart tugs in a way you can’t quite articulate.

Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to mentally take stock and compare this experience to your previous nights out. Far more than Jimin and Yoongi, Hoseok keeps you talking. Whether it’s him trying to keep you distracted, or just his natural brand of social vibrance, there isn’t a quiet moment.

It isn’t until the car has wound its way deep into the city that Hoseok gently clears his throat, cutting off his own spiel about his favourite brand of bucket hats. “It seems we’ve reached a crossroads,” he announces meaningfully.

You frown as you glance between the seats and out the front window. “That’s a roundabout, Hoseok.”

His eyes shift. “Metaphorically.”

“And what might this metaphorical crossroads entail?” you ask teasingly, a smile curling your lips.

Hoseok stays uncharacteristically sober, leaning towards you as the car creeps forward in the blocked-up after-work traffic. “Our location, princess,” he says softly.

“I thought we were going to your work?” you respond in confusion.

“At the moment we are,” Hoseok replies. “But there’s a cinema just down the road, several great food places, even this fancy smoothie shop that lets you pick your own ingredients.”

“Okay…” The rhythmic click of the turning light echoes through the backseat, making you feel entranced as you watch Hoseok’s eyes warm, focused on you. “Do you not want to go to your work?”

“This is about you now,” he corrects in a kind but firm voice. “Do you want to go to the Red Room and play?”

“Yes,” you say instinctively, but the dom just shakes his head.

“No,” he states unflinchingly, “I need you to think about it longer than that. Do you feel emotionally, mentally, and physically in a position to do a scene tonight?”

You suck in a breath slowly, taking the time to run over them one by one. Physically was the easiest one. Your sex drive was quickly reconfiguring the longer you spent on the show, and even just a day without any action at all was making you feel a little restless and unsatisfied. Emotionally and mentally gave you pause.

How can you untangle those two when your mind and your heart feel knotted together inside you? Whenever one lights up, the other just reflects it. The moment you think of Jin, guilt overcomes you, but that just sparks your desire to flood yourself with distractions and escapism. But then the thought of being out here, enjoying yourself while he’s still stuck in the Villa, probably seething in hurt or rage or betrayal… The guilt just flares even colder in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you admit after a moment of silence. Hoseok hums once, inviting you to speak further. “I really want to. But I don’t know if I should. I just want to forget about everything, but maybe that’s a bad reason.” You blow out a deep breath, cheeks puffing up. “I don’t know; you’re the BDSM expert. Is it okay if I do it to just distract myself?”

Hoseok stays silent for a moment, eyes roaming over you like he’s searching for something. “That depends,” he answers finally. “If it’s a recurring problem in your life, and you use BDSM as a coping mechanism, then that can be unhealthy. Just like drinks or drugs. But at the same time, it’s very common that BDSM is a way of emotional or mental release. Office workers who feel like they’re working the same 9 to 5 every day with no power might want to feel like they have control and excitement in one area of their lives. Maybe CEOs or lawyers or doctors or parents might want to go to a BDSM club and submit so they finally can release the burden of expectation. To have someone else take care of them and make the decisions for a few hours.”

The dom sighs out slowly, eyes softening in empathy. “Y/n, you know that I can’t tell you whether it’s okay or not. I can’t consent on your behalf. You need to decide for yourself if you’re using this as a release, or as a dependent coping mechanism. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, not trusting your voice for a moment. Though he can’t decide for you, his explanation brings a clarity that strikes deeper than you originally intended. “I want to feel taken care of,” you offer up, voice thin like blown glass as your eyes prickle. “I just want to feel good for tonight, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods with a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Then I have another question, princess,” he starts. “You said you were wanting to forget about everything. Would you enjoy your time more if you played with someone else?”

You’re tugged out of your brief lapse of emotional vulnerability by the statement, cocking your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok’s lip twitches as his eyes brighten a little. “Mistress Bee has an opening that she kept just for you,” he reveals in a honeyed drawl, “if you want to use it. Her and I spoke about it earlier. If you’re anything like me, the constant presence of cameras and the whole competition can start to weigh pretty heavily. I think it might be good for you to let yourself be separate from it entirely for a while. Have some fun for fun’s sake. What do you think?”

The idea is something you’d never considered, yet you can’t deny there’s something incredibly appealing about cutting your ties - even just for an evening - and not having to worry about anything to do with the show. But still, you hesitate. “Where would you be?”

Hoseok shrugs easily. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I could sit near the two of you, or just hang around in the main den so I’m out of sight but still not far. And if you really want some distance, I might just go next door and make myself a custom smoothie. Either way, I’m happy.”

You startle when the car suddenly halts, a jerky job of parking down a side street. You’re here. A strange feeling of urgency overtakes you, like he’ll leave any second. You reach out and clutch at his shirt, feeling the press of buttons against your palm. “I want you to stay,” you say in a rush, knuckles going white.

“I’m here,” Hoseok soothes with warm eyes, unhooking your fingers from his shirt one at a time, before squeezing your hand and resting it back in your lap. “I’ll stay, princess.”

Outside, the air is still warm with the remnants of the set sun, even as lamp posts cast white pools of light onto the pavement. On one side of the car - as it reverses painfully slowly back onto the main street - you can spot the smoothie shop Hoseok was talking about, but on the far side is a Daiso store, and on your side, just in front of you, is the entrance to a cinema complex.

You pause, frowning in confusion, but before you can turn to ask Hoseok, his hand is already on the small of your back, leading you towards the cinema.

“We’re downstairs,” the dom explains, pointing out a sign you’d missed that displays the now-familiar logo of two Rs back to back, beside the B that indicates it’s located in the basement. As he leads you past the small foyer of the cinema and down a set of modest hardwood stairs, his voice lowers. “Although all the walls and ceilings are soundproof, having a bass-boosted movie blasting above you certainly helps drown out the rest of the noise. Gives us a bit more privacy.”

“Clever,” you comment absentmindedly, but your attention has already been caught by the sight that greets you below.

The moment you round the final corner of the narrow stairs, it’s like an entirely different world. Without any natural light, the entryway you step onto is lit mostly with wall sconces, though there’s strip lighting along the very edges of the hallway that glow an ominous red.

In front of you is a roughly oval room. In the centre, a woman with a shaved head and long acrylic nails taps away at a monitor, glancing back and forth from the screen to a large black book just beside it. She glances up when you step down, smirking at Hoseok with clear recognition.

Flanking the outskirts of the room are two bulky bodyguards, and you don’t even notice them until they relax and give him a nod. They seem to protect not only the receptionist but three sets of doors as well.

On the left is a locked door marked with letters engraved onto the wood itself reading STAFF. On the far right, the almost identical door there has no lock, and displays instead CHANGING ROOMS. In the middle, directly behind the desk, are two massive doors with iron handles curved in the shape of flicking devil’s tails, complete with the pointed tips. Instead of any words, each door just has one of the Rs of the logo. Then again, it doesn’t really surprise you that there wasn’t any explicit title or description visible. This was a place that you only went to if you knew where you were going.

“I thought you were taking time off, Sir?” the woman asks in a teasing lilt. She’s almost intimidatingly gorgeous, and you fight the urge to shift closer to Hoseok’s side. Her eyes shift to you nonetheless and her grin widens. “Yet here you are, bearing a gift.”

“Not for sharing, I’m afraid,” Hoseok deflects, and it takes you off-guard to hear the audible difference in his voice compared to what you’re used to. He’s not fully in Master mode, but the bubbly ball of energy has been replaced by the suave charisma of someone who knows he commands the attention of any room. Just as you glance up at him, he looks down with crinkled eyes and lifts the hand on your back up into your hair, not quite tugging, but keeping it there for a moment before he lets his fingers slip through your locks again. He holds your eyes a second longer before turning back to the receptionist. “Red cuffs will do, Sim.”

With a sigh, the receptionist acquiesces, a small silver piercing just below her bottom lip glinting as she shifts and reaches into a drawer at the desk, producing a pair of cuffs that look exactly the same as the ones Hoseok had used on you a few days ago.

She stretches them out towards you, but Hoseok intercepts and chooses to put them on you himself. Though they come connected together by the chain, he unclips and pockets it once the leather is snug around your wrists, leaving you claimed but still free to move. The meaning of the red trim still makes you shiver when you run your fingertips over it, and the sight makes Sim chuckle.

“First time here?” You aren’t sure if the cat-eyed beauty in front of you is asking you directly or Hoseok on your behalf, but you nod anyway. She hums, closing the drawer and pulling a sheet of paper out of another one and placing it on the desktop. “Just because you’re coming in attached to the Big Man doesn’t mean you get to skip the rules. Read them over and sign anywhere on the page to show you’ve understood. And I’ll need to see some ID, verify your age and all that.”

Fumbling to pull your ID out of your wallet, you hand it over and take the photocopy and the outstretched pen from her in turn, scanning the numbered list of rules. There aren’t any surprises, luckily; it reiterates the cuff colouring, safeword systems and staff on site, as well as emergency exits and procedures. There are places to buy drinks and snacks inside, but only spectators can consume alcohol.

“There’s a station for toy rental inside,” Sim explains, handing you back your ID after noting down your details, “with its own set of rules and everything, but I’m sure your Master here will be using his own stash. Our staff wear black clothes with red logos and arm bands, you can’t miss ‘em. Just sign if you’re good, and you two can go on through.”

Hoseok waits while you read, sharing some smalltalk with the two bodyguards in the meantime. Once you sign off and hand the items back to Sim, who dutifully stamps the sheet and files it away, your dom turns to you with a pleased grin. “Shall we?”

The moment Hoseok wraps his slender fingers around those devil tail door handles and pushes them inwards, sound fills the room, no longer held at bay by the seal of soundproofing. Chatter, laughter, the general hum of crowds - they all fill the space around moans and cries and cracks of whips, every possible noise you’d heard on a porn video or experienced over the past three weeks.

It was debauchery in every sense of the word, and Hoseok slipped into the thick of it like a duck in water.

With a single finger hooked onto one of your cuffs by the silver loop, he pulls you in with him, letting you soak in your surroundings as he leads you.

Though you didn’t really have any clear expectations, you’re shocked by the sheer amount of people inside, all gasping at Hoseok and parting in front of him like an adoring sea. The first area is relatively cosy, clearly just meant for socialising.

Couches surround the edges of the room, except for a small bar manned by two insanely hot guys. One effortlessly shakes up a drink, biceps pumping with the motion, and the other chats up a middle-aged woman who appears to flirt back, ignoring the older man kneeling at her feet with a pleading look in his eyes.

They fall out of your sight quickly as you move through a doorway, the sound dropping off just as suddenly. It’s not quite silence that greets you in the next room, however. Just about bumping into a row of occupied seats, Hoseok adjusts your direction so that you move around the back of the room, but that doesn’t stop you from glancing towards the front, where a whimpering girl is strapped to what looks like a medieval set of pillocks by the neck and wrists, her face wet with tears but alight with ecstasy as a gloved man demonstrates to a rapt audience how to fit an entire fist inside her.

Your eyes widen at how openly they display the obscene act. Then again, how is it any different from what you’d been doing in the Villa? Whether it was an audience at home watching through a screen, you’d still let yourself be viewed in much the same way. As Hoseok keeps you stumbling down the back of the room and out a different doorway, you think more about what being that girl on the stage might feel like.

Moving so quickly through the seemingly endless basement, you’re startled when suddenly you’re jolted to a stop in front of an elevator. Hoseok punches in a code that has to be at least seven or so digits on a little keypad beside the doors, before pressing the down arrow.

“Where are we going?” you question, voice still hushed as if you were in the theater.

“Bee’s office,” Hoseok answers simply, but the realisation that you’re about to play with the gorgeous spitfire - with Hoseok watching, no less - fills you with a restless arousal. “She doesn’t know whether you chose to even come here tonight or not, let alone play with her. We’re going to give her a little surprise, princess. I guess I did come bearing a gift after all.”

Once the lift arrives, he steps inside smoothly, no longer holding onto your cuffs. You jump inside, watching him select B2 off the limited selection of floors. “This used to be a carpark,” Hoseok explains casually as you’re slowly lowered down. “But when it got bought by the cinema, they didn’t really need it, so they leased the first below-ground floor to us for a pretty low price. We originally just kept this lift for wheelchair access, but once we got bigger and expanded a little, we decided to move our offices downstairs for an extra layer of privacy.”

The elevator chimes, opening its doors to reveal a hallway similar in appearance to the entrance foyer you first walked into. “But we aren’t going to your office?” you ask, curiosity making your skin itch as he walks right past a door with the letter H on a placard beside the knob.

“Not this time, princess.” Hoseok halts again, and you catch sight of a new door, this one with a B. Spinning on his heel, your dom turns to you and pats your cheeks with a grin, lowering his voice conspiriatorially. “If you’re Bee’s present, we better wrap you up nice, hm?”

Things start to feel distinctly more real when Hoseok undresses you right in that very corridor. You can’t help but worry that somebody could come down in the elevator at any moment, or the service stairs behind you. Watching you squirm with a barely-contained grin, Hoseok does nothing to assuage those fears.

He allows you to keep on your panties, kicking the rest of your clothes to the side and slipping off his own jacket to lay over your shoulders. Though it’s a little big on you, it’s laughably inadequate in covering you up, made of some less-than-opaque black fabric that betrays everything below down to the moles and freckles on your skin. Hoseok looks somehow even more intimidating without the piece on, a fitted tank top exposing his taut shoulders and modestly sculpted arms.

“Knock, princess,” Hoseok instructs, not without the warm hint of fondness that colours his voice.

You do so with a shaky hand - shivering partly from excitement and partly from the chill of air conditioning that fills the hallway.

“I’m busy!” a muffled voice calls out brightly, making Hoseok tut with a rueful smile.

He leans in so that his cheek almost brushes the hard wood. “Do you want to be busier?”

A pause, then footsteps drawing closer.

Before the door even opens fully, Bee is cooing loudly on the other side, clapping her hands in clear joy. “I knew it! Come in, come in!”

Her bubbly personality is at odds with the glossy red latex that covers her body, heels clicking with every skipped step back into her office. Bee waves you in first, letting you enter before you hear her voice lower, asking for permission to touch.

“She’s all yours, feel free to play with her to your heart’s desire,” Hoseok explains easily, making arousal pool between your legs, “the red is for you and me tonight.”

“Splendid,” Bee chirps from behind you, and you jump when you suddenly feel fingers brushing up your spine, even through the thin fabric of Hoseok’s jacket. “Take a seat, chickie, let’s talk.”

In her office, the Mistress shows that same duality of a cheery personality with her dominance. A large corner desk sits in the corner, with a small board of polaroids pinned to the wall and a little terracotta pot of violets and a spray bottle of water just beside it. A small cup with various items of stationery is complete with a tall pen with a fluffy pink pompom on the end, and even from what you can glimpse, it looks like her screensaver on her computer is some stylised LINE friends character.

Yet move your eyes anywhere else in the room, and you see a metal cage in one corner, a flogger hanging from a clothes peg behind the door, various fixtures on the walls, ceiling and furniture that speak of restraint and punishment.

As you perch delicately on a lowset sofa across from her desk, you wonder if Hoseok’s office is much the same. It certainly looks like Bee would take in subs here to play with her, judging by the equipment. Had Hoseok spent evenings with submissive women and men in his office, making them kneel and beg and serve?

The thought stirs something inside you, and for a moment you think it’s jealousy. But then Hoseok beams at you with a salacious wink, settling onto the corner of Bee’s desk, and you realise that it’s less envy and more the feeling like there were parts of him you were missing out on. That there was still so much you had to discover of him, to experience with him.

You wonder if he’ll let you come back to see him here one day, after all this is over.

Suddenly, your view of him is obstructed by the deep red of Bee’s corset and latex pants, her hands on her hips. “You’re looking a little too much at him and not enough at me, chickie,” she croons, almost conspiriatorially as you crane your neck to meet her gaze. She tilts her head, lips curled. “Do we have to send him out?”

You shake your head adamantly, unable to stop your eyes from quickly darting behind her.

She chuckles. “Cute. So soft for her Master.” Your head feels hazy as she slips her fingers into your hair, stroking your head fondly. “I think your Master is soft on you too, baby.”

Without much fanfare, Bee swivels and sits herself down beside you, so close your shoulders and thighs press together. You suck in a breath at the closeness, but the domme just gets closer, flicking your hair over your shoulder and rubbing at the nape of your neck as she watches you intently.

“Did Hobi give you the full tour?” she asks in a low voice, the slight graze of her fingernails making you shiver. “What was your favourite room so far, I wonder?”

You go to shrug, put on the spot so suddenly, but before you can Hoseok pipes up. “The theater,” he states without room for disagreement.

At the thought of the room, you feel desire swim within you. The image of that girl, so vulnerable as a room of at least thirty strangers watched her, analysed her, enjoyed her pleasure just as much as she did. That image hadn’t really left your head since the moment you saw it. Before you even realised it yourself, Hoseok had known. Something about that made you dizzy with your want for him.

But tonight was about Bee, about the intoxicating feeling of being so close to a beautiful, powerful woman. The lady herself hums, pleased. “The theater,” she repeats in a low voice. “Do you like watching, baby?”

“She’s on a porn show,” Hoseok butts in again, his eyes like pointed furnaces on you, wetting his lips between words, “give her more credit than that.”

This time, Bee straightens up and narrows her eyes at the man across from you. “You can stop answering on her behalf, Hoseok, or I’ll put you out myself. You said I get to play with her tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he retorts in a slightly sarcastic, petulant tone, but shoves his hands in his pockets and presses his lips together anyway.

Bee turns back to you, letting her fingers tuck beneath the collar of Hoseok’s jacket so that her palm rests against your bare back. Stroking slowly, she smiles, her eyes glittering. “We can play on the big stage if you want, baby. Would you like that?”

The opportunity, a little bit frightening but mostly extremely arousing, makes you squeeze your thighs together with a hard swallow. “Yes, please,” you mumble in a small voice.

Her smile widens, caramel skin positively glowing in the warm light of her office. “Perfect,” she drawls happily, before standing up, back arching slightly as she stretches. “Then there are a few rules you need to know before I take you out there.”

The two dominants share a look, Hoseok lifting his brow at something written on Bee’s face. “Really?” he questions in surprise, chuckling reluctantly. “You’re going all out, huh?”

Even as confusion overtakes you, you watch in rapt curiosity as Bee shrugs, slipping past him to open a tall, skinny cabinet just behind her desk. There’s a large, dark brown coat there, but her hand delves deeper, pulling out a thin yet tough-looking strand of nylon rope, a suggestive deep red almost the same shade as her bodice.

“I dyed these myself,” Bee explains, her voice light and warm like honey. You watch as she lets the length pass over her palm loosely. “I don’t know if Hoseok told you, but rope bondage is my specialty. If you wear this, everyone out there will know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, heart racing as she slips off Hoseok’s jacket, chucking it towards him without a glance as she keeps her focus on you. Her eyes gleam as she slips the rope around your back, beginning to loop and fold it. “What are the rules?” you ask, voice already airy with the arousal that peaks your nipples and sends shivers down your spine with every drag of the rope.

If it was possible, Bee appears to have even more subdued prowess with ropes than Hoseok does, her fingers nimble and practiced, moving so quickly that it leaves lines of hot friction against your skin. “The rules?” she repeats casually. “Well, the first one is that I expect you to address me by my proper title. Do you know what that is?”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you nod. “Mistress,” you croak out, almost stuttering on the word that feels so unfamiliar on your tongue. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment only heightened by how close she stands to you, flooding your senses.

“That’s right, chickie,” she praises, tugging the rope suddenly, making sure there’s no give as your bare chest is yanked forward. Satisfied, she tucks the ends in neatly and places her hands on your waist, taking in her work. It’s a basic chest harness, like one you remember Hoseok putting you in, but there’s beautiful flair all over, with arches and keyholes and braids that slip between your breasts, along your spine, shoulders and ribs. Almost like a bralette, the main difference being that your breasts themselves are fully exposed to her - and Hoseok’s - roving gaze.

“Now,” she continues, “rule two. You don’t have permission to speak unless I ask you a question. I used the limit sheet for you that’s on the Bangasm website, but if there are any changes throughout the scene, the only words you can say at any time are your safewords. I’m sure you’re familiar with it, but here at Red we use the stoplight system. Is that clear?”

It’s easier to say the second time. “Yes, mistress.” Still, the excitement low in your belly just grows with the way she nods in approval. Your desire to please sets in quickly, and the rope on your chest and the leather around your wrists feel like a promise of what’s to come if you continue to please her.

Jerking her head to indicate that Hoseok should open the door for her, Bee turns to you and hooks a finger under a strand of the rope, just under your breast. “And the final rule is more important since this is my first time playing with you. If something feels good, you thank me for it. Like this.”

Before you can even process it, lips softer than silk press against yours, chaste but unforgiving as you’re pinned in place by the harness in her grip. She smells sweet, slightly floral like gardenia or jasmine, and she tastes like strawberry chapstick.

When Bee finally pulls away, your head feels hazy, on a lag. Your lips still tingle from the missing contact, but you let out a dreamy, “thank you, Mistress,” without even thinking.

She grins at your reaction and turns towards the door, pulling you behind her with that finger caught on the rope. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a sweet girl like you to play with,” she croons back at you, before patting Hoseok on the chest with her free hand. “Thank you for the gift, Hobi.”

There’s a strangely smug feeling inside you as Bee leads you out of the office, back into the chill hallway and up the elevator. Hoseok trails behind, and some part of you is thriving in that feeling of being the focus of his and her attention. And even as you’re led back into the theatre, going right through the middle of the seats before veering off to the right to go behind the wings, the eyes on you feel electric.

Just like that woman that was on the stage earlier - it now sits empty in an interlude, the audience chatting amongst themselves - you feel like a pillar of desire, a pretty thing for everyone to look at, but only for a few to touch. The red cuffs and red rope lift you higher into that headspace, submissive yet superior in a way.

The attention of those strangers is addictive, and any uncertainty disappears with the need for them to replace those brief glances of curiosity with full stares, the kind of intense focus that you’d only receive by being out on that stage.

There are a fair amount of people backstage. At least three or four people in black shirts with STAFF printed in glossy block letters flitter around, chatting to the others or checking equipment. The lady from earlier is still behind there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, like one you’d see in a sick bay in high school. A large man, beefy like a body builder, tenderly hugs her from behind as they sit on a couch, and takes a bottle of lemonade from a staff member, gently encouraging her to drink.

You hear Bee catching the attention of a staff member holding a clipboard, chatting to him, but your attention is caught by the woman. Her face is glistening with tears, sweat and even some drool, and she looks exhausted yet elated, giggling weakly when her dom pats her clean with a paper towel. With a kind of delicate care and patience that seems at odds with his rather aggressive appearance, his lips move close by her ear, words just meant to be shared between the two of them.

When you did intense scenes with the guys, did you look like that? The thought sticks in your mind as Bee’s bright voice remains in the background. There was something so loving and meaningful about the connection that you felt to the guys after a scene like that, and the couple in front of you seems like a physical representation of that emotion.

Suddenly, pain spikes in your chest at the reminder that you’ll never have that connection with Jin again, that every week you’d have less and less moments like those. And instead of cherishing them, you were here, about to do a scene with a near stranger, in front of actual strangers.

Suddenly, your original idea of escaping the Villa doesn’t seem to be as appealing.

Glancing up, that pain turns to alarm as there’s a missing presence around you. Bee is finishing her conversation, waving away the staff member before turning to you, but the two of you stand alone.

“Mistress,” you offer up, biting harshly on your tongue when you realise belatedly you’re breaking her second rule already, “where is Hoseok?”

Before she can furrow her brows for your disobedience, they knit together instead in concern. “He’s getting a good seat in the audience, chickie. Were you not paying attention?”

Your cheeks heat, and you apologise in a rush, letting your eyes dart over to the post-scene couple one last time. She’s fallen asleep, his chin propped up gently on the crown of your head, and you feel like you’re intruding by observing them any longer.

Bee notes your distraction, but just sends you a bemused smile and grasps your chin so that you’re forced to face her. “We’re going to go on now,” she enunciates clearly, and the reminder of reality clears your mind a little, “I’m due to teach a demonstration on bondage, are you okay with that? It’s nothing too intense.”

You nod quickly. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, or perhaps you were just kinkier than you thought, but in your experience, being tied up or tied down felt calming and grounding in a way that you think is necessary given the whole new world of live exhibition that you’re about to undertake. “I’m okay with it, Mistress.”

“Good. Keep our rules in mind, chickie; let’s go have fun.”

For some reason, applause is not something you’d considered, expected or prepared for. Your cheeks heat the moment you step out, lights so bright that the audience is swimming silhouettes, and are met with passionate clapping.

Though you know it’s for Bee - she drinks it in with a proud beam, totally in her element on stage - it’s an audible reminder of the attention on you right now. If your panties weren’t soaked through before, you can definitely feel wetness on your thighs now.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s good to be back up here!” she cheers out, and you jump when her voice reverberates. The sound carries in here so well that just a speaking voice seems to fill the room. You wonder if later on, your own moans will surround you in much the same way.

Bee lets go of her grip on your harness and ducks her head in, quickly instructing you to kneel in a ‘comfortable way’. You’re surprised when the stage floor is solid, yet not as painful as you’d expect on your bare knees. You adjust a bit so that the pressure is off your kneecaps and ankles, and look up at the domme, listening to her spiel.

“Welcome back to our Red Members, and welcome for the first time for any newcomers. My name is Mistress Bee, I’m the resident bondage, suspension and shibari expert here.” She pauses while a few scattered claps ring out, and you preen when she shifts to the side, stroking the top of your head as she continues. “Last week I did a demonstration with the lovely Mikey on some common suspension ties. From week to week, I want to teach you all the ins and outs of suspension, because it’s a very rewarding craft for the dom and the sub, but it’s also pretty complex. So before we get into off-ground suspension, this week I want to show you my favourite intermediate step: sex swings.”

Your heart thuds, glancing up so quickly that her hand falls over your forehead and eyes, but she just smiles placidly down at you and pinches your cheeks playfully, making a few of the audience members chuckle.

“I have a pretty little chickie here with me today to help me out. Seems like she didn’t guess what we were playing with today, huh?”

Unsure whether it’s rhetoric or not, you carefully mutter a, “no, Mistress.”

“It’s a fun surprise, then,” she quips, before turning back to the audience. With slow, clicking steps, she makes her way to the side of the stage you’d come from, gesturing to a couple staff members.

Your mouth goes dry as a industrial-looking metal post gets lowered from the ceiling, running parallel to the ground, but taller than your arms could reach standing up when it groans to a stop. Two guys rush on stage with a black pile of leather and metal, connecting the chains to the metal pole in two different places. The major component is a flat piece of stiff fabric, clearly meant for your body, with two leather loops on one side to prop up your legs. With the way they’ve hooked it up, you’ll be side-on to the audience.

“Sex swings seem a little cheesy,” Bee begins, and you jump when her voice comes from behind you, varnished nails running over the bare skin of your upper shoulders. “But they’re actually a really good stepping stone for suspension. The dom gets used to maneuvering someone else that’s off the ground, and the sub can experience what it’s like not having their weight supported by the floor at all. They’re also far more cost-effective than good quality suspension gear.”

As Bee explains, your eyes wince against the lights, trying to make out the blurred lines of people in the audience. Hoseok was in there, right now, watching you. But you couldn’t see him. Your heart beats a little harder in alarm, but you force yourself to keep in the scene, wanting to make the most of this unique experience.

The jingle of metal echoes through the modest theater as Bee checks the stability of the sex swing, and soon enough she’s instructing you to stand up and come stand in front of it. You do so as quickly as possible without running over, so excited about being put up in the swing for her to play with that you can barely stand still.

“Let’s get these panties off first,” she decides, hooking in a finger and snapping the waistband against your hip to make you jump. You push them down before you can secondguess it, and just like that, you’re naked in front of a room full of strangers.

Getting up into the swing would be a little awkward normally, but Bee’s unending charisma and charm makes it feel easy. She holds it steady while you do a little jump to rest your ass onto the flat bed, then gets you to lie down, praising you warmly even as she gives professional advice to the audience.

Lying down is okay - your head hangs a little off the edge, so that your vision is upside down and your neck is arched, but the fabric is surprisingly comfortable so it’s no imposition - but one she slips those loops past your feet, resting them in the crooks of your knees, everything suddenly feels very real.

This is exposure in a very different sense. There’s not much give in the chains for safety, but it means that your thighs are spread wide open with no way to cover yourself.

Bee’s rapport with the crowd watching is a steady stream of reassurance, but by the time she lifts your wrists, using the clips on the chain and the loops on your cuffs to bind them straight up, leaving you entirely vulnerable, your chest begins to heave, breaths quick and shallow.

“Still with me, chickie?” Bee questions, and you let out a choked moan when she circles round to your top half, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between her fingers softly, the contact grounding you. “Give me a colour.”

Remembering Hoseok’s advice, you pause and take a moment to really think it over. “Green, Mistress,” you decide, trembling when she rewards you by sliding her hand down your chest and stomach, two fingers dipping lower to feel how wet you are, stroking your clit. Your back arches, thighs tense, but there’s nowhere you can go to escape the pleasure she gives you. “Th-thank you, Mistress.”

Leaning over you, patting your cheek fondly, Bee beams down at you. “Good girl,” she praises warmly, before glancing out towards the audience. “So well-behaved, isn’t she? Should I give her a quick reward before we continue?”

Your eyes slip shut in bliss as you hear the audience cheer and clap in your favour, imagining one of them to be Hoseok, watching you from below.

After hearing out the crowd, Bee adjusts her position so that instead of up by your head, she’s between your legs, that hand still lazily rubbing over you as the other grips your waist. “Alright, I won’t argue with that,” the domme quips teasingly, and chuckles as you go rigid suddenly when those two fingers plunge inside of you, crooking up to massage your walls.

There’s nothing you can to do move towards or away the touch. The swing has you completely at her mercy, and that just makes every stroke that much more overwhelming. Bee fucks you on her fingers with a swift, unforgiving pace, and you whine as the obscene wet noise echoes throughout the room.

You feel dirty; dripping on stage as your fists wrap around the chains and your pussy tightens around her. But the taboo and debauchery just turns you on more, and the moment she increases to three fingers, you no longer try to hold back or muffle yourself. A loud cry spills from your lips as she presses against your g-spot, and her gleeful chuckle arouses you even more.

The knowledge that an entire roomful of people are watching you is so hot that you feel electric, but it’s the reminder that Hoseok is somewhere amongst them that sends you over the edge. You spasm in the swing as you cum, hard, and Bee doesn’t let up for a moment, taking advantage of your restraints to continue to fuck you through your orgasm, her other hand joining to rub roughly at your clit to make you sob in oversensitivity. It’s not until your toes and fingers tingle with the force of it that she finally slows down, taking her hands off you with a cheery sigh of exertion.

“Thank you, Mistress,” you try to say, though it probably comes out slurred or garbled. You shiver as aftershocks periodically thrum through your veins, making your muscles twitch, and your eyes slip open to the feeling of Bee pressing a chaste kiss of approval to the back of your hand, still bound to the chain.

“Now,” she says, still a little breathless, “onto the main event. One of the more difficult things of…”

Though you try and stay alert, your body is exhausted and satisfied, and the suspension just makes you feel even more floaty than you normally would after a good orgasm. Your mind flits in and out, and you feel at peace until you hear the echoing click click of heels on hard floor, and see the blurry figure of Bee disappearing backstage.

Alarm flares red inside you, making your heart beat overtime and your nerves screech. You wriggle your arms and legs, but there’s no give, and even as you crane your neck to the side, the stage lights prevent you from being able to find your dom in the audience.

There’s no use in trying to stay calm. Even as that clicking returns, Bee already returning to you, you feel unsafe and anxious, the safeword on your tongue.

But it’s not the safeword that comes out when you find your voice. “H-hobi,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as panic flares in your chest.

Before his name has even fully left your lips, there are hands on your shoulder, rough with callouses. There’s the familiar musk that grounds you, and the heat of a body that cradles your head and presses his lips to your temple, cooing sweet nothings to calm you.

Bee’s voice floats around you, apologising profusely not only to you but to the audience too, but as you open your eyes and see Hoseok, his eyes brimming with concern, you burst into tears of pure relief, wishing you could reach out to him.

Like he knows your needs without you even articulating them, he unclips your wrist cuffs from the chains one at a time, slowly helping you sit up as Bee’s hands are on your legs, taking off the loops that had held them spread open earlier.

The moment you’re up, you fall into Hoseok like he’s a lifeline, clinging to him as your tears wet his sleeveless shirt. His skin is hot against yours, and his chest seems to rise and fall faster than normal as he holds you tightly, stroking your hair.

“I’m here,” he chants over and over, the words like liquid comfort cocooning you. The audience slips away, even Bee taking orders from Hoseok on what to go get is tuned out as you lean into that feeling of security that Hoseok’s embrace gives you.

At one point, he wants to move you offstage for some privacy, but your legs won’t stop shaking. Without a word of complaint, he’s lifting you up with one arm under your ass and the other around your back, guiding you to wrap your arms and legs around him.

It’s all too easy to burrow your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent, your heart rate slowing from the spike of adrenaline. By the time his weight shifts, and you feel the smooth, cool leather of a couch beneath you, exhaustion has seeped into your very bones. You barely have enough energy to focus back on his voice, but you force yourself to, blinking blearily as he cups your cheek and meets your gaze.

“I think I know what happened there, what spooked you,” Hoseok says slowly, his eyes deadly serious even as his fingers gently stroke your jaw. “Did you not like not being able to see or touch either of us?” You manage to nod weakly, and Hoseok’s brows furrow in internal guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he apologises hoarsely, “I should’ve warned her before, I should’ve been closer-”

He breaks off as Bee rushes over, face pinched, and hands Hoseok a folded up blanket. The feeling of the soft, yet slightly weighted fabric covering your naked skin feels like heaven, and it calms you just that little bit more.

Hoseok meets your gaze again. “Bee wants to chat to you, princess, to say sorry. Do you want to see her now or talk with her later?”

You feel guilty for saying it, but you just want to selfishly indulge in Hoseok now, no one else. “Later,” you admit, and the domme nods in solemn understanding, bowing her head at the two of you before departing.

“What do you need, Y/n?” Hoseok asks, in a voice so low it could be a whisper. You blink at him, at the deep concern on his face. “What can I do to make you feel okay? To feel safe and calm?”

You know the answer. It’s not something you’d admit normally, not something you’d request were you not feeling so terribly adrift and in need of comfort. You fist your hands in his shirt - wrists still adorned in red cuffs that said you were his - and wet your lips. “Kiss me?”

He pauses long enough that you think he may deny you, but then you feel his chest rumble with the words, “just this once,” before he dips his head and kisses you, slowly and carefully, like you might break. Your heart swells with every slight movement of his lips, but they’re gone all too soon, replaced by your own fingers as you touch your lips in wonder. “Better?” he asks in a strained voice, still stroking your back through the blanket.

“Better,” you reply, though already you miss his lips on yours. But feeling his arms around you, and his heart beat against your ear when you lie down is good enough for you, enough for now.

#bts smut #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader #cypherwritersnet #kpopuniversenet #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #namseok #bts fanfic #bts series

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years ago

Text

Out of Time (6)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 6032

Previously: Vlad and Maddie talk about cores. Clockwork gives some answers and proposes more questions. Dani shows up at Val's.

Now: Some exposition before Dan and Danny round 2 - ghost zone edition. Fight scene (T rated, cw for choking)

Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Let me get this straight," Valerie started, eying the young girl across from her from the stovetop. She turned the pancake over in the pan and nudged it slightly. "You just happened to show up a few days ago from the Ghost Zone and just… hung out in the town when Phantom put the shield up? All on your own?"

Dani nodded, putting another piece of her pancake in her mouth. "Yep," she said, mouth full. "Not hard really – ghosts don't need to eat much. With that shield up, none of the natural portals have opened in the city – and I wasn't just going to leave."

Valerie put another pancake on the table before pouring more batter into the pan. "And you didn't reach out to your cousin because…"

Dani frowned. "Something's wrong," she said worriedly. "This isn't like Danny; this shield … whatever reason it's up is because he wants to protect the town. He and the Fentons must be facing something big and I don't want to get in their way."

Valerie turned the stove off, adding the last pancake to the stack between them, before she plopped herself at the table. Putting her head in her arm, she looked across at the young girl with a frown. "I don't think Phantom would mind. He seemed pretty worried about you the last time you were here."

Dani smiled. "Of course he wouldn't," she agreed. "The Fentons would love for me to stay too. But they've done so much for me and I don't want to be a burden. Or Danny worrying about me on top of everything else." She grabbed another pancake from the stack between the teens and helped herself. "Besides, other than the Fentons… my only options were you, a Ghost Hunter, or Vlad. I figured I'd chance it."

Valerie frowned in disgust at the mention of the mayor. "Yikes."

Sensing the girl's conflict, Dani waved her off. "It's fine. Vlad gets all of us at the beginning. Besides, you and Danny worked together to save me; figured you couldn't be all bad."

Valerie opened her mouth to argue that she didn't regularly team up with the ghost kid but stopped herself. This kid was all alone and was worried about Phantom, the only tangible relative she had. While Valerie had her opinions about the ghost teen, she couldn't burst this girl's bubble. Besides, if she managed to get information from the girl, it'd be a bonus.

"Sorry about dinner, Dad's working the night shift and pancakes are my go-to in times like this."

Dani grinned. "Are you kidding? Pancakes are the best! I mean… I didn't even know what they were until now!"

Valerie chuckled; she knew she liked this kid. The two girls sat in a comfortable silence for a little bit, before the news bulletin from earlier that day repeated with sharp shrill. Dani whirled around, the grin sliding off her face as she watched the fight from earlier. "Danny…" she whispered worriedly. The half-ghost turned around, distraught. "Is he okay?"

Valerie sighed; wincing again as she watched Phantom fall right after his last attack, Lance Thunder appearing to a repeat of what he witnessed. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

"We need to help him!" Dani exclaimed, a ring of light appearing at her waist. Valerie stared at it for a moment, remembering how the ghost girl transformed, before running and putting her hands on Dani's shoulders.

"Hold up - That was hours ago," the older teen replied soothingly. "There's no way of knowing where he would go if injured. Or if those ghosts were on his side."

Dani pouted, the light disappearing. "But –"

Valerie sighed. "I know you're worried, but Phantom's – and I can't believe I'm saying this – strong. I'm sure he'll be fine. The blasted ghost just doesn't stay down. If he's not back to his insufferable self by tomorrow, then you should worry."

Dani stared at the girl, a look of confusion dancing across her face before it lit up in realization. "Oh," she exclaimed softly. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

Valerie frowned in confusion. "Tell me what?"

"Nevermind," Dani replied quickly, brushing her off. She smiled gratefully. "You're right – I'll call the Fenton's tomorrow. If anyone knows where Danny Phantom might be, it'd be them." Valerie's face went from curious to uncomfortable very quickly. "What?" Dani asked, worried that she might have upset the girl.

Valerie looked away from her. "That'll be all you," she said, cheeks turning red. "My only contact with the Fentons is through Danny. He and I might be civil, but I really don't want to talk to my ex about this. He gets enough ghost stuff from his parents."

Dani was silent for a moment, before smiling from ear to ear. "Hold up….Danny Fenton is your ex?" she asked sneakily. Valerie nodded, bewildered as the two teens stared at each other. Finally, Dani burst out laughing, pointing and making noises.

"What!? He's scared of ghosts!" Valerie continued over the girl's laughter. "If we stayed together, ghosts would use him as bait to get to me!"

Dani laughed harder still, tears in her eyes. Valerie sighed glumly, watching as her new house guest laugh herself to the floor.

:-=-:

Everything hurt. Everything. The raw energy that now flooded him was only just holding Dan at bay. The evil ghost yelled something over the strong crackles of electricity and howls of the wind. Was this what Clockwork warned him of? Was this all he could do? It couldn't be.

He was tired – run ragged from everything he endured. He let his own powers push outward, feeling not only raw but core energy expend out of him.

The Ecto-Storm released – pain….the world exploded in pain.

Green eyes met a pair of fearful eyes in a distance – two pairs? –

An explosion and it all went dark…

Danny gasped as he awoke, looking around widely as he readjusted from his nightmare. He was sitting with his back against his door, looking inward into his room. Did I just pass out? Everything seemed so much bigger from down here, so far away. Danny frowned as he remembered his conversation with Clockwork and Ethelwulf. Was this another glimpse of the future?

Danny stood slowly, grabbing the door quickly as his knees buckle. He felt his core shift violently at the sudden movement. "Come on," he muttered, shaking his head. Almost as if responding, his core quieted and he felt stronger, standing up on his own. Danny frowned -There were no sparks violently going through him, his base powers were holding. If Sam was right… then what he just saw will happen. Danny shuddered as that thought went through him, bile rising from the back of his throat. "Get a grip," he muttered. "It could be worse."

Sure – keep telling yourself that Phantom voiced from the back of his mind.

A small explosion from downstairs erased his rebuttal. Danny furrowed his brow as he opened the door cautiously. Another sound, this time from an ecto-gun, came up from the lab. "Hello?" Danny called from the top of the stairs. When no response came, he sped down the stairs and down to the lab. "Mom? Dad?" As he reached the bottom he stopped, suddenly taken aback by the commotion in the lab.

His parents were at opposite ends of the lab; his Mom was facing off against Jazz and Sam with various weapons and tactics while his Dad, Ethelwulf and Tucker were hunched over at the main console in deep conversation. He looked at both ends of the lab, half amused, half relieved at what he was walking into.

"Overwhelming – isn't it?"

Danny jumped as Clockwork appeared beside him, his time staff resting on the ground softly. Blue eyes met red for a moment as the world continued beyond them. Danny chuckled slightly. "Nah, I'm used to it," he replied with a genuine smile as he turned back to the multiple activities of the lab.

Clockwork stared at Danny, regarding him in pity. "That's not what I meant," the old ghost told him. Danny's smile fell slightly, but he didn't look at Clockwork. "I would be surprised if it wasn't overwhelming; you're only fifteen. You've had to deal with Time in ways none of us have before. Just remember you are not alone; you do not have to suffer through these visions on your own."

Danny said nothing, standing in silence next to the Time Master as he watched his friends and family interact with each other. "You're right," he said, finally turning to Clockwork. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, inviting the boy to go on. "I had another vision. Whatever these things are, the one thing I know is I'm going to face Dan." Danny crossed his arm and frowned in thought. "If only there was some way to find out –"

"No," Clockwork interrupted sternly. Danny jumped, wide-eyed at the tone. "Even if there were, the less you learn about the future the better." Clockwork floated lower to the half-ghost's eye level. The harshness in his eyes softened slightly. "Trust me Danny, having the knowledge of time is one thing; having to make decisions based on that knowledge? It is the greatest burden of all." The boy's blue eyes met the tired, sad red eyes of the ghost and saw the turmoil behind the words. They stood staring at each other for a few moments, before Clockwork sighed, looking upward. With a small nod, Clockwork disappeared abruptly, bringing Danny's attention back to the occupants of the lab.

He looked between his parents again, realizing none of them had noticed his entrance. Deciding that he didn't want to be hit by a stray ecto-blast from Jazz, Danny made his way over to his father, mentor and best friend.

Sensing movement, Jack looked up from the screen briefly, before beaming. "Danny! Perfect timing!" he boomed, waving him over. "We were just going over your files."

Danny frowned apprehensively. "The ones on Dan?"

"No- the other secret Ghost files," Tucker said sarcastically, not looking up from the screen. Danny glared half-heartedly in his direction, but gestured for him to continue. "I've been pointing out the attacks we know he has for sure – this way we can figure out how to defend ourselves." He typed something into the computer, hitting the final key emphatically. Blueprints for a large ghost shield appeared on the main monitor. Finally, the dark skinned teen turned to half-ghost. "Your parents have a large shield schematic ready to go – they're just missing one thing."

Danny blinked. "Which is?"

"Dan's ecto-signature," Jack replied. Danny looked at him wide-eyed. "If we can specify the difference between you and him, we can adapt the shield's programming to keep Dan out and not hurt you in the process." The larger man put his hand on Danny's shoulder, making him stumble. "If we can get that shield up and running, you can heal up properly."

Danny shot him a grateful smile. "That's a great idea!" he exclaimed. Danny's eyes ran over the screen, recognizing some of the data on the screen. When he realized what was missing, he frowned slightly. "This isn't going to be easy – while Dan has half of my ecto-signature, he also has half of someone else's."

"Right," Ethelwulf confirmed, yellow eyes scanning a different screen. "Though from your files, you indicate that Dan had shifted forms to look like you and that he has a heat core. However, ghost cores don't change much at a molecular level – even when altered."

"Think of it like water," Jack continued. "Molecularly, stays the same but its form shifts; Even when frozen or as a gas."

"We believe that this secondary ecto-signature was a catalyst for your core to shift," Ethelwulf explained. "If this alternate version of you had an ice core during the time of the merge, then it changed into a heat core during this process but did not drastically change your ecto-signature."

Danny looked between Ethelwulf and his father in confusion. "Doesn't that mean we have the same ecto-signature?"

"Not quite," Jack said. "Remember, Jazz sent the boooo-merang into the zone to find you. It keyed into you – not the other you. Don't you see?"

Danny looked at Tucker for assistance. "Not really," he admitted.

"Basically even though it might be small, there is a difference between your ecto-sig and Dan's," Tucker answered determinedly. "All we have to do is figure out what aspect is more like Plasmius' ecto-signature, reverse the coding to prevent that ecto-signature being the one kept out of the shield and we'll be all set."

Jack blinked, before turning to Danny suddenly. "Wait - Plasmius is the other ecto-signature!?" he asked incredulously. Tucker flinched under the glare Danny sent his way. Danny sighed, nodding but did not elaborate further. The boy's demeanour changed; reserved and subdued. Jack frowned as his son stared at the schematics, hardened blue eyes lost in thought. "Hey – this is a good thing Danny! We have all the pieces we need to create the shield." He nudged Danny slightly, smiling reassuringly at his son. "It's a solid plan. You just have to trust us."

Danny shot his father a small smile. "I do," he said gratefully. Jack clapped Danny on the shoulder once more before turning back to Ethelwulf in conversation.

Tucker chuckled. "You seriously need to lighten up," he joked. "Between your Dad, Ethelwulf and this Techno geek, this shield will be up no problem!"

Danny smiled at his friend's enthusiasm and attempt to make him feel better. "I don't doubt it," he said. Danny looked his friend up and down, finally realizing something was different. "Tuck…. What are you wearing?"

Tucker smiled widely, puffing out his chest. The red beret was still there, but instead of his street clothes, Tucker was in a mustard yellow jumpsuit with dark green gloves and boots. Over his chest, he had two straps creating an X full of small pouches. "You parents thought it was time we had our own jumpsuits in case we have to be in the field. We got to design some of those jumpsuits that your Dad didn't have a chance to dye orange yet."

"We?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow. Tucker rolled his eyes exasperatedly, muttering something under his breath before pointing to the other side of the lab. As Danny's eyes followed, he noticed his sister in an almost identical jumpsuit as his Mom's with the same X pattern as Tucker's on her back.

When his eyes found Sam, his breath hitched in his throat; her jumpsuit was a deep purple with black boots and gloves, with a small black flower on her back. She too, had straps along her torso, but most had a few ecto-guns attached at her back. She flipped gracefully in the air, a smug smile on her face as she dodged his Mom's staff and released the Jack-o-Nine tails, leaving the older Fenton unarmed. He couldn't keep his eyes off her; the world's sound disappeared as she became the only thing he could focus on. She was… he couldn't even describe what he was feeling right now. Vaguely, he heard Tucker talking at him, but it was drowned out by his heart pounding in his eardrums.

"Come on Space Cadet," Tucker said, smirking as he pulled the boy away from the console and toward the sparring women.

"What?" he replied dumbly, blinking owlishly at his friend.

Tucker chuckled. "Oh man," he murmured to himself. "Sam better appreciate this."

"What!?" Danny asked again, his voice going a bit higher in pitch.

Maddie waved her hand in the air, stopping the sparring match as the two boys approached. "You girls are getting much better," she said confidently, putting a hand on her hip. "Jazz – your weapon control is steadily improving. You might be able to handle the weapons that require higher precision now!"

"Finally!" the red head exclaimed in triumph. She wiped her brow and turned to Sam. "You've got to teach me that sliding tackle you used on Mom – it was wicked."

Sam smiled proudly. "Definitely." Noticing her two best friends on the sidelines, she turned slightly toward them. "Next time, we can give these two a run for their money."

Tucker held up his hands in surrender at the girl's suggestion. "I'm all for training, but not for getting destroyed by you. You do that enough in video games. Right Danny?" The boy in question did not answer, continuing to gape unbecomingly at Sam. Tucker sighed and locked eyes with an amused Jazz.

Before Jazz could comment on her brother's state, Maddie tugged her arm away from the group of teens. "Come on Jazz, let's help your father with that shield," she teased, a small smile across her lips.

"Mom!" Jazz whined, watching her opportunity to tease her brother move farther away as her Mom dragged her from the teens.

Sam watched them go, confused, before turning back to her friend. "What's with him?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion. Tucker shrugged, looking exasperated. Sam waved her gloved hand in front of Danny. "Hello? Earth to Danny?"

Danny blinked as he stepped back. "Purple!" he blurted out, startled. Tucker covered his face forcefully and groaned at his friend's lack of control.

"Purple?" Sam repeated, confused. "Oh! You mean this!" She gestured to her jumpsuit. "Pretty cool right? I was going to use black, but it'd look too much like yours." When Danny didn't say anything else, she frowned. "What? Not Goth enough?"

Finally shaking out of his stupor, Danny shook his head. "Just… purple's a nice colour on you," he said. Sam blinked, before her face turned slightly pink, making Danny's go slightly pink as well.

Tucker looked up at the ceiling in exasperation as his two best friends continued to stare awkwardly. "Hopeless," he said with a sigh. "Utterly hopeless." Deciding that it was time to break whatever spell they had on each other he turned to the half-ghost of the group with his hand on his hip. "How are you doing after today?"

Danny made a face. "It's… a lot," he said after a while. He turned away from his friends, staring at the portal as memories flashed before his eyes. "You guys weren't there – at the end I mean. How close it was. Now… it's a whole lot bigger than just beating him."

Sam frowned. "The time visions?"

"Not just them," Danny admitted, looking briefly at his family at the console. "If I was him-"

"Which you're not," Tucker said pointedly.

"Which I'm not," he agreed sardonically. "I wouldn't want to recreate the accident. I would want revenge." Danny started pacing, frowning in worry. "That battle this morning? He was toying with me – trying to see what I can do. Now he's somewhere in the Ghost Zone planning who knows what and I have no idea how to stop him."

Tucker and Sam looked at each other before turning back to their now worried friend. Tucker moved first, grabbing Danny's shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. "We don't know his plan," he started determinedly, "but we might be able to find him." The dark skinned teen gave him a triumphant look as he pulled out what looked to be a small gaming controller with a screen on it. "Meet the Fento-drone."

"A video game Tuck?" Sam asked deadpanned.

"Not a video game – the best invention ever!" Tucker exclaimed. Danny rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, bemused. "Mr. F and I developed it. We can send in a couple of these bad boys into the Ghost Zone and have them look for your older jerkface of a self. When this is hooked up to the main system, we can control where they go." Tucker turned to Danny. "Your Dad said he wanted to add a couple things too – give it the ol' Fenton charm."

"That… actually might help," Danny said excitedly. "How many of those are done?"

Tucker opened his mouth to answer but shut it quickly as shrill, loud alarms suddenly came to life around them. The trio of teens turned back to the console, watching as the red lights flickered across the faces of the Fentons. A computerized voice sounded from above.

"Ecto-Exdous Alarm activated. Prepare to kick ghost keister!"

A flurry of movement appeared at the other end of the lab as both Fenton parents turned off the alarm pulled up the Ghost Zone Radar. The little ghost icons seemed to be in waves, the largest in the middle.

"I haven't seen that many ghosts since the Ghost King!" Jack exclaimed. "Tucker! Lend me a hand!"

"On it!" Tucker yelled, running toward the larger man, Sam at his heels.

Danny stayed back, watching the radar worriedly. If this is anything like the Ghost King, the ghosts are evacuating. He glanced at the waves, seeing a few icons break away from the large mass of ghosts toward the back and front. His eyes found the group the furthest away from the portal and the lone figure at the back. Dan - He was sure of it.

"Are any of the Fento-drones ready for launch?" Tucker asked, frantically typing in code through the system.

"Only two," Jack replied. He turned to his wife. "Mads, what's the containment system like?"

Maddie looked up from her screen to Jack. "95% - but that's nowhere near enough to house that many ghosts!"

Danny frowned, watching the screen from afar. No one seemed to notice his presence anymore, the radar attracting their complete attention.

"What will you do?"

Danny jumped as Clockwork appeared beside him. "Don't do that!" Danny exclaimed angrily. "If you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of something here!"

Clockwork rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, time has slowed down." He replied, deadpanned.

Danny's eyes widened – Clockwork was right. Everything moved in slow motion around them, from the typing keyboard to running for weapons. He looked at the Time Master in confusion, but Clockwork cut him off.

"What will you do?" he asked again. "Time will not be slowed for much longer."

Danny looked back at the radar screen; one sole ghost moved quickly, gaining momentum as the rest of the ghosts slowed. His hand curled into a fist as time started to move normally.

"The first wave of ghosts should reach us any moment," his father yelled.

Danny looked toward his friends and family, all questioning their next move – if he was going to act, it had to be now.

"Should we close the portal?!" Maddie yelled back. Suddenly she stood up straight. "Wait…. Where's –"

Steeling his resolve, Danny locked eyes with Clockwork for a moment before he took off. He jumped up and he transformed, illuminating the lab in white light.

"Danny!" he heard his Mom yell after him as he flew quickly, diving into the portal.

The vast, empty space of Ghost Zone swirled magnificently as he flew toward the crowd at top speed. They didn't deserve this. No one deserved to be part of this. He had to get to them before -

"BEWARE!"

Danny stopped suddenly, taken aback at the ghost's sudden appearance in front of him. "Box Ghost?" he exclaimed, confused. Remembering why he was here in the first place, he shook his head. "Where is he?" he asked seriously.

The Box Ghost looked at the young Phantom in front of him. "Runaway Ghost Child!" he said with wide eyes, grabbing Danny by the shoulders. "The other Phantom is too powerful. He's destroyed many realms with his sonic attack!"

"Ghostly Wail," Danny corrected impatiently. "Where is he Box Ghost? What's holding him back?"

The Box Ghost frowned worriedly, looking away. "The Far Frozen started to form ice shields as we ran," he started. Danny could see the larger crowd getting closer. "But he broke them suddenly. We thought we were getting away but he came toward us out of nowhere. Skulker and Ember told us to head for your portal; they're fighting him now."

Eyes narrowing in frustration, Danny broke away from the startled ghost. "Listen Box Ghost," he started, looking at the amount of ghosts headed his way. "I need you to lead those ghosts through my parents' portal and up into Amity – just like when the Ghost King attacked. Tell my parents to be ready to close the portal as soon as everyone gets through."

"Me!?" the Box Ghost exclaimed incredulously. "What about you?!"

Danny ignored him. "Go!" he yelled, taking flight again as he headed deeper into the Ghost Zone.

As he passed over the crowd, he heard calls of "Great One!" from below. A quick scan found a large group of yetis flanking the outer perimeter of the mass of ghosts, Frostbite among them. He flew down towards them, floating in place. "Get to the portal," he ordered quickly. "I'm going to hold him off long enough for everyone to get out safely. Find Ethelwulf – he and Clockwork will explain." He took off again, ignoring any of the calls from the group of Far Frozen workers. As he passed the last of the escaping ghosts, he stopped. In the distance he could see a lot of debris, islands that used to house ghosts turned to rubble.

How could he cause this much damage so quickly? He asked himself, distraught. He gasped, brought out of his musings by explosions up ahead. His hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed in anger. Danny shot forward toward the fight. Dan was not getting to Amity Park – not today.

:-=-:

Skulker fired another round of rockets from his suit's armour before dodging behind a floating piece of debris toward Ember. The rockstar ghost scanned her green eyes over her boyfriend's bodysuit as she quickly restrung her guitar.

"Remind me again why we're risking our necks to help the others get out of here?" she asked bitterly.

Skulker reloaded his blaster and a few more rockets quickly, chancing a small glance around their hiding spot. "Because nothing can get past the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter and Ember McLain," he replied. "I don't see him."

Ember scoffed, turning the dial on her guitar up. "Who is this guy anyway? He has the dipstick's little symbol on his chest but that is definitely not Phantom. Not unless he aged himself up."

Skulker's eyes narrowed. "No, but his head will make an excellent addition to my collection." The ghost hunter turned to Ember. "We'll move on my signal. Three – Two-"

"One," Dan's snide voice came from above the pair as a strong ecto-blast came barrelling toward them. Skulker and Ember flew sideways, in opposite directions, dodging as the blast hit the large floating rock they hit. Ember jumped on her guitar, surfing through the zone and sending a flurry of blue flames to the spectre as she passed. Dan merely put up a shield, watching with a grin as she came to a stop a few yards away. The flames petered out, making him drop the shield. "What? Can't stand the heat?" he asked menacingly. Blue flames appeared in his hands as he flung them outward, a set of flames thrown in the shape of an X toward the ghost diva. Ember jumped off her guitar, grabbing its neck as she dodged. Pulling the guitar close to her, she played a loud chord, sending two ectoplasmic fists back at the evil spirit. Dan flew upward, flipping over the attack as he sent his own ecto-blasts back. He landed forcefully on a floating rock, laughing slightly as he felt his boots sink into the earth.

His ghost sense flooded his nose as he sensed the robotic ghost behind him. Dan turned, bringing his right knee upwards and into Skulker's abdomen. The ghost grunted in pain as Dan grabbed his arm and swung him around, throwing him straight into Ember. The two ghosts cried out in pain as they tumbled through the air. "Too easy," Dan gloated, igniting his hands in green ecto-energy one more time. He threw another ghost ray at the pair. Skulker flew out of the way quickly, but the ray hit Ember sending her flying, her limp body rolling through the air.

"Ember!" Skulker called out to her, stricken. Her body came to a stop, floating in place, unconscious. With a roar of anger, Skulker flew towards Dan, two large blades appearing from his forearms. "You'll pay for that abomination!"

Dan waited, evil grin still plastered on his face as he waited for the emotional ghost in front of him. As Skulker aimed for his stomach, he created an opening, letting the blades go straight through with no injury.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Dan asked, eyes narrowing. Skulker gasped as Dan grabbed his shoulders, lifting him above the ghost. "I think you have your priorities wrong here tin can." Dan threw the ghost, sending another blast towards the hunter. It hit Skulker straight on, sending him flying upward. He managed to steady himself just as he heard Dan speak again. "Why face me when your girlfriend is the one in danger."

Skulker's green eyes widened as he realized what the ghost was about to do. Skulker rushed over to his fallen comrade, covering her with his own body as he felt the blast connect with his armour. He gritted his teeth, biting back a cry of pain. Skulker turned back to glare at the spectre, parts of his battle suit falling into the abyss of the Ghost Zone as the blast subsided. Ember stirred briefly, but didn't awaken. Holding the pop star's form close, Skulker held out his right arm, taking aim with one of his rockets.

Dan smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh please," he said. "You can't defeat me; you had 10 years to, what, put my pelt as a throw rug? I know your whole playbook Skulker – there's no way out of this."

Skulker lowered his weapon, wide-eyed. "Ghost child?" he questioned, confused.

Dan chuckled. "Not quite," he drawled, red eyes shining gleefully. "Not since I ripped out my humanity." He flew up to Skulker's level but still had lots of space in between them. "Now, time to send my younger self a message."

He inhaled deeply before releasing his sonic attack, ripples of energy erupting from his mouth. Skulker closed his eyes, hugging Ember tighter as he braced for impact.

It never came.

Skulker's eyes flew open as merely three feet away Danny Phantom, the one he knew, held a large ecto-shield in front of them, holding the attack at bay. "You!" Skulker yelled over the older Phantom's attack.

Danny's arms shook from strain as he held the shield against Dan's wail for a few moments. He turned his head slightly toward the ghost behind him. "Get to the portal," he told him as he wail pushed him backward. "I'll distract him until then."

Skulker frowned, looking between the two Phantoms in confusion. "How…" he started, before looking down at Ember worriedly.

Danny followed his gaze guiltily as Dan stopped his attack. The younger ghost turned his attention back to the older, dropping the shield. "Hurry," he said, watching Dan apprehensively. Skulker didn't need to be told twice; he took off toward the human portal, leaving the two Phantoms facing off.

"I see you got my message," Dan told him snidely, watching in amusement how Danny's face contorted in rage. "Now, now – don't get all worked up."

"You're not getting to that portal," Danny told him coolly.

Dan laughed at his naivety. "You always did have such childish motives." Dan flew, standing upright as he got closer Danny. The half-ghost bristled, ready for an attack. "You think I want the portal Danny?" he asked, floating beside Danny's left. Dan moved around the teen, appearing again at Danny's right. Danny's head whipped to the other side. "Let me let you in on a little secret – I can take the portal anytime I wish." Dan's wrist came alive with an ecto-blast, launching it directly at the teen.

Anticipating the attack, Danny teleported away from the blast's trajectory - reappearing at one of the destroyed land masses. "I think you missed, old man," he taunted, throwing a series of ecto-blasts toward his older self. Dan growled, dodging the attacks with ease and flying directly for the teen. Danny braced himself as Dan collided with him, blocking Dan's flurry of punches the best he could. Going on the offensive, Danny brought his knee up to Dan's chest, pushing him away from the spectre. They flew at each other again, matching each other's blows evenly. Eventually, they broke apart, Danny slightly panting from exertion while Dan merely stood, crossing his arms.

"Tired already?" he provoked with a small smile.

Danny's eyes widened slightly as he looked Dan over; the evil Phantom showed no sign of weakness. Time to rethink this distraction. Danny took off toward the portal, flying through the destroyed islands that littered this part of the zone. Looking back, he saw Dan following closely. Danny's eyes and hands lit up blue, sending a set of icicle spears toward Dan. Dan merely swatted the icicles away, gaining speed toward the younger boy. Slightly panicked, Danny teleported again, trying to get as much distance as he could away from his future self.

Dan continued to fly toward the boy, eyes watching as Danny continued to teleport away from him, using the floating rubble as cover. He smiled, identifying a pattern as Danny continued to move. Dan waited until Danny teleported again, disappearing as he teleported to where he anticipated his younger self would end up. Arriving at the same point at the same time, Dan grabbed a hold of Danny, pinning him against a rock. One gloved hand moved to the boy's neck, squeezing tightly as he struggled under Dan's grasp. Danny glared at him as he struggled, attempting to break free and breathe easier. "It would be so easy to kill you now," Dan hissed, squeezing tighter. Danny's eyes widened as he started to gasp for air, legs kicking desperately to break free.

As Danny's vision started to fade, he heard a charging of an ecto-weapon before Dan was blasted off him. Danny gasped; coughing as he finally was able to breathe again. Dan was thrown a few feet away, stunned slightly at the two sleek saucer-like robots, each proudly displaying the Fenton logo on the top. Finally regaining himself, Danny floated up to one of the robots, smiling gratefully. "Thank you Fento-drones!" he exclaimed. Turning to his future self, he sent a stream of ice to the stunned ghost, freezing him in place.

Nodding determinedly at his work, Danny leapt up in the air and headed straight for the portal. It only took him fifteen minutes but he saw it – the swirling green hexagon that led to the lab. Relief only started to sink in before he heard a roar of anger behind him. Glancing back, he saw the burly ghost sending streams of ectoplasmic energy outward, aiming for the Fento-drones and him in the distance. Danny frowned, stopping on a small floating island close by. He watched as Dan lashed out, sending one of the Fento-drones into stone and ripping through the other one with ease. Red eyes locked with green, hungry for vengeance as Dan once again moved, blasting through any object that stood in his way.

Danny sighed, digging white boots into the ground as raw energy bubbled up inside him. His right eye lit up an electric blue as energy poured out of his fingers. He held his hands up; creating an electrifying green shield of energy that covered not only the portal, but it's surrounding areas. Dan stopped, watching the shield grow in disgust until it engulfed the portal.

Danny dropped to his hands and knees, panting as his eyes slowly returned to their normal green. Blue white sparks of electricity surrounded his aura as he gritted his teeth, glaring up at his future self. Try getting through that he thought vindictively.

The last thing Danny saw before he teleported was a slow, deliberate smile spreading across Dan's face.

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Envy - John B Routledge

Request: Oooh, how about if the reader left with Kie after the big fight with John B about Sarah, and basically made the ultimatum "either she goes or both of us do" and then when the boys strand the girls on the boat together she admits the reason she hates Sarah is because she's been in love with John B for forever (also bonus points if Kie and Sarah admit they had crushes on each other when they were friends)

A/N: I wasn’t sure if you wanted Kie and Sarah to end up together so I decided not to. I just made it kinda angsty.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat on the further away from Kiara and Sarah, listening to them debate their perceived grievances with each other. You didn’t even want to be here, and you probably wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been with Kiara when Pope came to pick her up from The Wreck. She’d stormed out on John B after he tactlessly announced that he was dating Sarah Cameron now. The feud between the two girls ran deep. You were sure Kiara had legitimate reasons for hating Sarah. All you had was a stupid, unrequited, crush on John B that had been hanging on since the seventh grade.

Pathetic sure, but it made you seem like a great friend at the moment. At least to Kiara as you stomped out of the Chateau with her, leaving the boys and Sarah behind. And maybe, if you hadn’t been there at the The Wreck, they could’ve just forgotten your problems and glossed over the whole ordeal so that next time you all got together, and there was always bound to be a next time regardless of who someone was dating, they would pretend you had been on board all along.

“You just ghosted me, for no reason-” Kiara was saying while you leaning over the side of the boat, half wondering if you could drown yourself to get out of this share circle.

They were two seconds away from confessing their love for each other and you knew you should be ‘happy’ that they were resolving whatever tension they had before but that didn’t mean anything for you. Because in the long run even if you didn’t get off this god forsaken boat with Sarah still fawning over John B it wasn’t like he was going to suddenly look at you and everything would change.

“What’s the verdict then?” You asked as Kiara walked over to where you were laying, standing over you with her hands on her hips. Sarah was looking for spare blankets inside to keep warm.

“John B and the gold, that’s what’s important.” Kiara replied, “what about you?”

“What about me?” You asked, already knowing that she was turning it around on you so that she didn’t have to answer anymore questions about how her and Sarah had stopped being friends simply because they liked each other and that Kiara still had those feelings, whether Sarah did or not. “I’m only here cause I was with you at the Wreck.”

“No way!” Sarah said, tossing a blanket to Kiara as she came over, “you said, and I quote, ‘either she goes or both of us do’. So that definitely counts as you being part of this!”

“I’m not part of this.”

“Yeah, you are.” Sarah replied glaring at you, “I’m not staying on this boat listening to your bullshit excuse about not being part of this. You weren’t exactly cheering me and John B on back at the Chateau.”

You sat up finally, crossing your arms under your chest and looking away from Sarah, “we’ve all been friends for a really long time...no one’s ever broken that barrier. I was just a little apprehensive. Kie didn’t exactly paint you as some great friend.” You explained, leaving out the part where seeing Sarah and John B together had made you want to gouge your eyes out.

Jealousy wasn’t a good look and you didn’t truly have any right to be jealous. She hadn’t taken anything of yours...John B didn’t like you, that was just a fact you were going to have to accept once you were able to get off this stupid boat. It didn’t matter that you were the first one he called that night when his dad didn’t come home. Or that you stayed at his house for nearly three weeks after that, making sure he was okay because his uncle was less than functioning and John B was three seconds from a mental breakdown every minute.

It didn’t matter that you were with him when Peterkin finally told him that his father was lost at sea, presumed dead. Or that after they found Scooter’s body that John B called you, panic stricken and terrified because all he could think of was his dad.

None of that mattered because John B didn’t like you. He liked Sarah. And you couldn’t blame him, even Kiara liked Sarah.

“I just want to help John B, I really care about him.” Sarah explained, “It’s more than just a crush.”

“Just give us a minute?” Kiara asked. She had the same look of anguish on her face that you were sure was on yours. Having a best friend that you were secretly harboring a crush on was hell, but at least she knew that there had been a moment in time when Sarah liked her too. “You okay?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You whispered as Kiara sat down next to you, “hey it’s so great that you’re dating John B, sorry I was a douche to you it’s just I’ve been pretty much in love with him since I was 12?”

“Maybe not that.” Kiara laughed.

“I don’t want her to know...I don’t want her to tell John B cause she thinks it’s hilarious-”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Why? Cause she told you that she used to have a crush on you too and maybe still does...she’s not sure.” You replied. You just wanted off the boat already. “I’ll be nice. And we’ll be best friends, trust me, but I just...it’s gonna take some time.”

“I think that’s why they confined us to a boat for the night.”

“Yeah well, it’s gonna take more time than that. I can’t just stop liking someone...I know you can’t either.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Kiara replied, looking away for a moment before glancing over to where Sarah was setting down the blankets to sleep.

“I’d rather not be on this boat.”

“They’ll come get us in the morning.” Kiara promised.

When the boys came back in the morning Kiara and Sarah climbed on the Pogue first, the latter taking a spot beside John B at the wheel. You stayed on the Heyward’s boat, helping JJ in so he could fix the engine and take it back to the dock where Pope’s dad was no doubt waiting with a lecture.

“Maybe I should come, it is my dad’s boat.” Pope reasoned, standing at the edge of the Pogue and looking over at JJ as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and handed it to you.

“We got it, we’ll meet you at the Chateau.”

“Oh my god, thank you, I’m freezing.” You muttered, pulling it on as quickly as possible and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“How’d it go?” JJ asked, going straight to work. You followed him inside and stood over the open hatch, watching him. You weren’t the best when it came to repairing things and always thought it was pretty impressive that JJ could get just about any boat, car, or motorcycle that he wanted running in under an hour.

“Fine I guess...”

“Still hung up on John B?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I’m not...hung up on John B.” You insisted, grimacing. Did he really know too? If he knew...did John B know?

“Here’s hoping.”

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @louisolos @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @haute-shawn @calums-betch @pogue-h

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beauvibaby · 4 years ago

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motivation - f.andersen

“And.. he scores!” My face fell, and I tuned out the cheering from the jackets fans, my eyes focusing on Freddie and his boys as they slightly shook their heads. I chewed the tip of my thumb as I watched them skate off the ice, they were bound to be pissed, so close yet so far. Freddie caught a glimpse of me through the glass and his face was blank, normally even after a loss he can muster up some kind of smile, even for a split second, but this time it was nothing, not even a twitch.

I stood along side Stephanie in the wide hallway outside of the locker room, both of us looking up every time we heard movement. Of course, it was never who we wanted it to be, shockingly Auston was the first one out, walking straight over to his mom who was giving him that look. The one that says “don’t be too hard on yourself, mijo, you did good”, the type of look everyone here would be giving the team. Freddie always put on a tough exterior, but when we got home it could be a different story, he could get quite the attitude. “Awe, babe, you played amazing, alright?” Stephanie spoke wrapping her arms around Mitch’s neck as soon as she saw him. “Freddie.” I breathed out when he finally emerged, he gave me a quick hug and a peck to my forehead before I could say anything else. “Let’s just go.” He grumbled, I held back a sigh, knowing it was going to be a long night.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning a shade of white as we got stuck in this god awful snow filled traffic. I could see Freddie glance around me from the corner of my eyes, but I didn’t speak, as he hadn’t said anything else to me either yet, both of us wanting to get home. “Freddie?” I finally caved, seeing how the cars were at a nearly complete stand still. “What?” He snapped a little harsher than I think he intended, but he didn’t look away from his phone, god knows he was probably watching the tape, trying to figure out what he could’ve done better. “Don’t do that.” I sighed pointing to his phone, he clicked the screen off and put it in the cup holder, shooting me a look, “happy now.” He was acting childish. “You did great, okay? It was a long game, you still have another shot-“ “We shouldn’t need to still have another shot, Y/N! That’s the fucking problem, we should’ve already moved on to the next round.” He cut me off, his voice booming in the car. I rolled my eyes a little as I slowly inched along the road. The guys always set high expectations for themselves, and when they didn’t meet them, they got furious. “Baby, it’s best of five, you can still do this. That’s what you need to focus on.” I explained calmly, he didn’t look at me, only continued looking out the window, cringing when I nearly slid in the ice. “Do you want me to drive?” He asked, annoyance dripping from his tone. I bit my lip for a moment, “no, you’re acting like a child, so I don’t want you to drive like one.” I finally snapped back at him. I could see him analyzing the side of my face, something he does when he knows he’s upset me, “I didn’t-“ “Just wait until we get home, please, I don’t want to have an accident.” I cut him off, my knuckles once again turning white on the steering wheel.

I fiddled with the ring on my left hand as we stood in silence riding up the elevator, I could feel his eyes on me, he grabbed my hand, keeping me from messing with the ring, he always freaked out when I did that, thinking I would be having second thoughts on our engagement. I glanced up at him but he was looking straight ahead, still with that pissed off tension in his jaw. I sighed as the doors opened, walking out first, pulling him along. He unlocked the door for me, holding it open, he was silently trying to apologize for being snappy towards me. “I didn’t mean to be rude to you, you know that.” He spoke, and I nodded, stepping inside, kicking my shoes off as he shut the door. “Freddie, I understand that you’re going to be upset about losing a game, alright? It’s totally acceptable, but you go into this head space that’s not even healthy, you all played great, you saved so many shots tonight, I wish you could see that.” I explained, he watched me with hard eyes, nodding even if he didn’t want to admit it. “But, at the end of the night, I still let four shots in.” He pointed out and I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I nodded silently, walking away from him and towards our bedroom, I could hear him padding along behind me. “That’s why I’m pissed.” He grumbled, disappearing into the bathroom, I watched him shut the door, harder than normal, I heard the shower turn on, I sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over. Thoughts running through my mind, once I heard him get in the shower, I stood to my feet and walked over to the dresser, digging out the gift I had been hiding from him, I was planning on waiting until after the first round of playoffs, but he needs a good pick me up now. I took the small white gift bag, peeking inside to triple check everything was in there. A baby sized Andersen jersey, and a onesie that said “a true fan begins in diapers” with the maple leaf logo beside it. I placed the bag on his pillow, leaving the room once I changed into my pajamas, I glanced back as I heard the shower shut off, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he wasn’t happy, what if he didn’t want this now, what if- “y/n?” He called and I immediately walked back into the room, he was standing in front of the bathroom door, hair still dripping, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I hadn’t realized my eyes were welled up until his face softened, “baby, are you crying?” He whispered, rushing over to me. I shook my head, wiping the water from my eyes before he could, “I didn’t mean to be-“ “No, no, it’s not that, well not entirely that.” I cut him off, laughing softly when his wet hair dripped onto my night shirt. “Fuck the game, you’re right, we’ve still got a shot, now what’s wrong?” He asked, concern covering his face. I smiled and simply pulled him in for a kiss, he didn’t complain, holding me steady by my hips as I had to stand on my tippy toes. “I love you.” I murmured once I leaned back, “I love you, now you’re scaring me.” He responded, I finally took a shaky breath and pointed to the gift on the bed. He glanced back and furrowed his eyebrows, “you got me a gift for losing?” He teased, pulling me along with him to the bed.

“It’s not because you lost, I think it’s much more of a win actually.” I told him, he dramatically sat down on the bed, I shrieked in surprise when he pulled me down with him, arms wrapped around my stomach, but not tightly. He kissed the top of my shoulder through my shirt as he grabbed the bag, opening it slowly with me half on his lap, half on the bed, I draped my legs across his as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep me upright. He gave me one last look before finally diving his hand into the bag, he grabbed both items at once, and pulled them out, frowning as they were wrapped in more tissue paper. “My god, are you sure you even want me to open this?” He teased, ripping it open, just as he did so, “well, there’s kind of a due date for it so.” I mumbled watching as his face lit up as he held up the onesie, I had really hoped it would be the jersey he saw first. “Y/N, are you serious?!” He asked, scanning my face for any kind of joking look. “Why would I joke about having a baby?” I quipped, laughing when he pulled me in for a hug, “oh my god, this, this is amazing, why didn’t you tell me sooner? How far along are you? I have so many questions.” He rushed, stopping just long enough to pull me in for a kiss. I couldn’t help but grin against him, “I was going to tell you after you guys get in to the next round,” I paused making sure he understood my words, he gave me a lopsided smile, pure excitement dancing in his eyes. “But, I figured you could use some extra motivation now, I’m nearly ten weeks, I only found out about a week ago, I had an appointment while you were at practice.” I shimmied off of his lap as he processed my words, “open the other one, I’m going to grab my phone!” I called as I rushed down the hallway, having a recording of the heartbeat and a sonogram picture in my purse.

When I walked back into the room I stopped as I saw him leaned over the small jersey in his hand, I snapped a picture for myself so I could never forget this moment, not that I would. He glanced up when he heard my feet, and then I saw the single tear fall from his eyes, which just made me emotional all over again. “C’mere.” He muttered, sliding to the edge of the bed, I stood in front of him as he rested the top of his head on my chest, arms wrapped around my back. I played with his still slightly dampened hair, letting a tearful smile out when he ducked his head down for a moment, a delicate kiss being placed to my stomach through the fabric of my shirt. “Look.” I whispered handing him the single scan picture, it was hard to tell exactly what you were looking at, but I had the tech put an arrow on it, “baby Andersen!” Alongside it. I pulled the clip up on my phone, turning the volume all the way up, he took my phone and gasped when he heard the thumping come across, he smiled up at me when he heard me whisper an oh my god in the video. “I wish I had been there.” He mumbled once the sound ended, and I frowned. “Me too, baby I promise I didn’t know they were going to do all that, I didn’t even think I really could be pregnant.” I explained, cupping his jaw so he met my eyes, “it’s alright, I know.” He shushed me, it’s something we talked about quite frequently, especially after the engagement, when I was younger doctors always told me I’d have a hard time getting pregnant, but here I am.

“When can I tell the boys?” He asked after we had finally been laying in bed for a while, I laughed against his chest, “wait a couple weeks, yeah? Until we hit the safer zone.” I explained. He sighed but understood, “alright.”

*** bonus, telling the guys went like this***

They had finally made it into the next round of playoffs and were having a get together at our place to celebrate, we nearly always hosted so it wasn’t odd to anyone when we offered. Everyone but me had a drink or two in them when Freddie wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Ready?” He asked, kissing me quickly when I turned to look at him. “Ready.” I confirmed.

“Hey!” He called out, everyone silencing relatively quickly, I looked around the room, Auston, Mitch and Will beijg towards the front, which was perfect as I was the most excited for their responses. “Y/N and I have something we want to say.” He spoke up, Stephanie appeared beside Mitch, resting comfortably under his arm, I smiled at her and a knowing look cane across her face. “Oh my god!” She shrieked rushing over to me, the guys confused as Freddie and I laughed, “easy killer.” I joked when she nearly knocked me over in a hug. “Shit, ok I’m sorry go ahead say it.” She clapped her hands together stepping aside, Mitch shot her a confused look. “We’re having a baby!” I cheered and everyone gasped, Auston choked on his drink, “what?!” He spoke first after his coughing fit. Will and Mitch shared a look, “I called it, pay up!” Mitch demanded, Will grumbled and pulled out two twenties placing it in Mitch’s hand as Stephanie went back over to him. “Your man over here has had a pep in his step we couldn’t quite place.” Will pointed out as we both stared at them in shock, “Freddie!” I complained, whacking the back of his arm as congratulations started pouring out around us. I smiled as Auston came over and gave me a hug, doing the same to Freddie, the rest of the guys following suit.

“Baby Andersen, coming soon!” I attached a picture of Freddie and I holding the baby jersey and posted it on Instagram before settling in for the night, relishing in the fact that this was really happening.

Tag list: @literarycharleton

#imagine #imagines #nhl maple leafs #nhl writing #nhl imagine #nhl #frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen blurb

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phoebehalliwell · 4 years ago

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I’m a world where say, Prue and Cole were together and Paige and Leo were together, who would you pair with Phoebe and Piper?

I liked Mark but like would they have been able to save him? And Phoebe didn’t really have a lot of memorable love interests…maybe this would be an excuse to make Coop come in earlier?

I love your blog and your fics! They’re some of my favorites to re-read 💖

‼️‼️‼️‼️ ily 💞💕💞💕💞💕

but okay i think in a world where we go prue/cole paige/leo there’s not so much a need to save mark as he wouldn’t be used as a plot point so much as like just a straight love interest so we wouldn’t go dead man dating we could instead have someone who’s a mom of two young girls or something (because three is too on the nose) and kind of have the sisters have to work through their grief/trauma on that end while also having to save the day and then we could bring mark in on a seperate episode (or have him come in on that episode as like. the girl’s uncle or whatever kind of piper’s point of contact when guiding who i guess would be his sisters spirit like the human person piper talks to who kind of quickly realizes something afoot bc well he’s a smart guy and he and his sister were raised on these stories. so maybe something like that. and then you think it’s a one and done with a brief, fleeting connection but then all of a sudden him comes back in some type of professional capacity Do Not Ask Me How and now it’s like. dude who you don’t like work with but like kind of you do. but he knows you’re a witch. so piper has to devote some time to that because that’s just the woman she is. and then a couple episodes later mark himself is the innocent and it’s like just as he and piper might start getting close you know boom monster demon warlock attack something now his life’s in jeopardy and you know piper saves the day but mark almost died and mark’s like wow this is just kinda like how your life works huh? with demons and monsters and ghosts? and piper’s like haha yep it’s enough to scare about anyone away i think and mark says i’m not scared and they hold eye contact and then it seems like they’re about to kiss but then one of them chickens out because they’re endgame so we’ve got time to kill we have the luxury of making them wait. blah blah blah they’re together by the end of season 1.

OR since this au is a bit of an li swap what with prue/cole and paige/leo i think you know where i’m going with this one piper/kyle. But of course piper and kyle only work like. off a divorce or something something that really gets piper and Peak Cynic and a bit more stone cold because i can’t just drag kyle in in s1 a) he’s a bitch and b) he’s a dick and c) very much Not compatible with early seasons piper who is very trusting and forgiving and believes in second chances. meaning. what do i do? ladies n gentlemen,,,, piper/dan. and we start that season one by just having dan move in next door season one blah blah blah they’re cute they’re sweet they’re married by season 3 they have a daughter and a son (no wyatt and no chris tho bc dan is Not a whitelighter also their daughter would not be the twice blessed as again dan is Not a whitelighter so there’s no dark future thing going) but then in season 5 dan sacrifices himself (oh no 😓!) but then he comes back as a whitelighter (😃) but then like. he can’t be with piper anymore because he’s a whitelighter (😔) (paige and leo still haven’t gone full canon yet because of the rules they keep dancing around their emotions) but at least he’s not dead (🤗) psych he gets killed in season six by a darklighter (😯). teeing us up for piper/kyle s7 onward slowburn here’s the manifesto.

in regards to phoebe i feel like her and coop aren’t really ready yet to be endgame til at least s5 because before that i don’t think phoebe is like ready for undying eternal love like she’s just here for a good time so to keep her busy i think i’d probably flip it and reverse it go dex first in s1 a handsome charming artist a bit dull but who cares whoops pregnancy scare! yikes! kind of separate and don’t really see each other much after that because we’re still working with phoebe’s fear of commitment next up to bat in season two phoebe’s college arc is leslie instead of the kind of rivals to lovers thing they had going on in the workplace instead it is in academia where they are both studying psych and they are in constant competition with one another in fact we can even say this is where we start planting the seeds for advice columnist phoebe where the two of them actually host like a call in advice show on the local college radio and slowly fall in love there. but this all ends when they both graduate and leslie moves away and phoebe’s kind of hurt because that was the first guy she ever could have felt like potentially committing to. next up on the docket would be who jason? i feel we’re not ready for that. who does that leave me? note i am skipping drake in this reverse play because like prue/cole would still be too fresh we can’t do a casual demon romance yet because we’re still leaning in on the drama and fire and danger of a witch/demon romance to pull some shit like phoebe/drake. hmm. we could make up a guy land a pretty solid heartbreak on phoebe just to tee her up all that. because dex she wasn’t that into leslie she was but it was just fate that pulled them apart we need a third one to kinda solidify the fear that love is doomed. and then like in between we will be having one off dates. oh ooh bonus since paige is with leo we can give phoebe married norman reedus. that’s just a fun one. that’s just a fun lil kick in the shins. final guy pre coop to carry us into season for is ummm hmmmmm. miles and he dies. but this time we actually make miles fun and interesting and sexy and really just everything he wasn’t noah fence to the guy. hmm. miles jason dean fusion. shan’t elaborate. but something like that. and then s5 after being burned by love so many times here comes coop. add a couple more love interests as set ups by coop just to drag it out, and then phoop endgame.

#charmed #prue x cole #paige x leo #piper x mark #piper x kyle #phoebe x coop #and uh what the fuck i'll tag #phoebe x leslie #bc i'm really paying them their dues despite them being real lackluster in the show #💌

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reydelcastill0 · 4 years ago

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He's Like a Fool,

TommyInnit is tired of war. He's been at war for years now. Various different wars. He just... He just wants to grab Tubbo and go away. For a bit. Forever. It doesn't matter. War already took so much, so he's going to start taking back.

War takes a lot from life. It takes away homes, it takes away fun, it takes away safety, and it takes away friends. It especially takes away friends. When the SMP war became full blown, everyone was taken by surprise. At least, all of the L'Manbergians seemed to be that way.

Wilbur knew tensions were rising, they had been for over 19 years, his issues with the Dream SMP predating Dream's reign over it. It wasn't that he had conflictions with the SMP, but his own SMP was too close for their liking. When Dream took over some couple years prior to the war, he was only what? Nineteen? Twenty? Things started kicking off and for the younger L'Manbergians, Wilbur hoped Dream didn't escalate problems. War took away safety from him

Fundy, age 17 when Dream took control over the Dreami people (he had to take over the place he was named after, huh?), didn't expect the war to get to the lengths it did. He was 19 when the war really kicked off, but Eret's betrayal stung worse than the wounds he got during it. War took away friends from him.

Eret really didn't lose much, but you can see the regret in his shadows. Their castle remains empty from true friends. Dream and the other Dreami don't care for her. They gave him a crown and called him king, but he's not anyone's king. She gained so much from her betrayal, but the emptiness of her castle is a testament to the friends she doesn't have. When the election kicked off, his remorse finally caught up to him. They watched Tommy and Wilbur get banished and their heart ached, yearning to help the two. War took away friends from Eret.

Tommy and Tubbo, it would be an injustice to separate them, because war affected them the same. They were so happy before the war started. They had so many friends, both at the Dream SMP and the L'Manberg SMP. Yeah, Quackity came around and got the two into a bit of trouble, but the trouble they got into after joining L'Manberg was much bigger than anything else. They didn't realize until it was too late.

Tubbo almost died in an explosion. Tommy almost bled to death after his duel with Dream. But they got their independence, so war was not an issue. And new people joined, too! War took nothing from them.

They still had the friends that mattered. Being children, nothing, not even war, could take away their happiness. Tubbo doesn't even feel like they lost their home. It burned down, but they had L'Manberg and they had Tommy so it didn't bother them. Tommy, by Wilbur's side, still felt safe, too. If he had the people he cared about still, then war didn't take anything away from him.

Both he and Tubbo were naive to have that sort of mindset. But as the youngest of the SMPs? Could you blame them? They thought they had it good. Dream was their friend again, too, Tommy especially falling into old habits with Dream.

He remembered when he was young. He and Tubbo had been in their own little world. Then Dream stopped by and became their friends. He was so cool, saying how he'd take over the SMP and be a very cool ruler. Tommy admired him, but then Dream took his discs.

The Disc Wars almost took a friend away from him. Almost. Tommy figures that if he and Dream are friends again, the Disc Wars didn't take anything from him. The world was mending.

And then the Election broke it all over again. Schlatt won, Quackity and George proudly standing by his side. Schlatt banished Tommy and Wilbur, keeping Tubbo with him, no doubt as a way to have the upperhand. Without George, Tubbo, and Fundy, the power Schlatt has would be null. Dream doesn't want to hurt his friends, and neither does Tommy, so the two have to stand back and watch Schlatt make his decrees from the sidelines.

Tommy gets Dream's full support, and now his other brother Technoblade is here. He feels safe with Techno around, more safe than he did with Wilbur, his brother, the former President of L'Manberg—

A man reduced to an embodiment of stress. War takes away sanity, too, Tommy learns in the caverns of Pogtopia. Wilbur, publicly denounced by his son. Wilbur, banished from his own land, unable to aid the young members who got left behind. Wilbur, betrayed by his son's best friend whom he was beginning to think of as a son. Wilbur, who lost a nation he has built from the ground up, dedicating his life to it for over two decades (even at the expense of fatherhood, which the consequences of are now taking effect).

Yeah, Tommy only trusts Technoblade to keep him safe, because Wilbur can't even keep himself sane. Tommy, proud as he is, tells everyone that all he needs is Technoblade now, because war hasn't taken anything away from him! Proof? War gave him The Blade.

But Tommy is too proud to tell the truth. This Civil War has taken away so much more than what he's ever gained in life. It took away Tubbo. His Tubbo, his best friend, his true brother.

Losing Tubbo helps Tommy realize that war has taken away everything from him and that he never truly had the things he thought he did. Home? Tommy's home was L'Manberg. Fun? Tommy lost that once the Dream-L'Manberg War started. Safety? Tommy probably lost that back during the Disc Wars. Friends? Tommy has lost all his friends, even if he still has his brothers. Sanity? Tommy can barely keep it. With Wilbur growing crazy, Technoblade is the only decent player interaction Tommy gets.

But war also takes away family. Family is what you make it, sometimes blood members not even being something close to friends. Tommy looks at Wilbur and Fundy as a prime example of that. Looking back on it, Tommy sees how Fundy would always seem like he was just... Acting out of obligation. Fundy denouncing Schlatt shows just how... Sometimes there is no love for your 'family', because sometimes your family is in someone else. Tommy learns later that Fundy even refers to Schlatt as dad, looking at him fondly and being treated by the man like a son. Wilbur stopped doing that in later years. He loved Fundy, but his love for L'Manberg was greater.

So if family is what you make it, then war took family away, too, because Tommy's true family was Tubbo. Yeah, Tommy has his older brothers, all sharing at least one parent, but Tubbo... His bond with Tubbo was beyond any other bond he has. Tubbo is Tommy's family, a brother even if he says Tubbo is more like a cousin.

Tommy just didn't think war would take Tubbo away from him... But then one day, he sees Tubbo again, properly this time. Every time he's seen Tubbo, they're by Schlatt, looking uncomfortable and frightened all the same, a false smirk on their lips so Schlatt is none the wiser about the truth. Except, this time, Tubbo is alone and they look so terribly sad.

"Tubbo...?" Tommy is unsure, disbelief evident in his tone. Since Schlatt took over Manberg, Tubbo lost the light in their eyes. Tubbo is as good as a corpse— no, that's too mean and he doesn't even want to think like that (Tubbo is worth more than a corpse could ever hope to be).

"I— Tommy?" Tears are pricking at Tubbo's eyes (Tommy will deny the same is happening to his own). "Wilbur, too..." Tubbo is starting to tense, as if ready to be scolded or yelled at. They stand up straight like they're getting ready to put on a facade. The action is done easily and clearly, it's instinctual. Tommy wants to ask them about it, ask if Schlatt did that, but Wilbur talks first.

"Tubbo...?" He's choosing his words, "... Are you okay?" That's all he asks. Tommy knows Wilbur is trying to be more mindful of his words. He wants Tubbo to know he cares because he failed to let Fundy know and now Fundy thinks more highly of Schlatt. Wilbur won't make that mistake with Tubbo, not now.

That's all Wilbur asks, but that's all it takes for Tubbo to start sobbing, their hands flinching. They're aching to hold someone and Tommy, aching to touch his best friend, runs to them and hugs them. And that's all it takes for Tommy to start sobbing, too. Wilbur slowly goes to hug the boys, apprehensive because this is their moment, but he wants to comfort them. They're so young and he took away their youth from them.

"I— I should've gone with you guys," Tubbo. That's all they say. No one says anything, but later Tommy promises to tell Tubbo: "I should've taken you with us."

Tubbo has to leave soon after, but Tommy asks if they can meet up again. Tubbo smiles, doubtful, but they agree to it no less. And Tommy, like a fool, will always believe Tubbo.

Tubbo didn't lie though, he always shows up. And Tommy likes to think he has Tubbo again, but he knows how war works by this point. It could take Tubbo away from him again. And it does, because war never really gave Tubbo back.

Despite telling Tommy they will go back, Tubbo one day stops appearing. And so close to the day that Pogtopia plans on taking a big step against Schlatt. Tommy knows it's intentional, because Schlatt is smart. Pogtopia underestimated the tyrant, for he took an even bigger step first. He took the step when he kept Tubbo and, as a bonus for his decision, Schlatt got to take another step.

Tommy sneaks into Manberg, careful not to let anyone see him. If George or Quackity see him, he will be dead on the spot. But for Tubbo? He'll risk his life an infinite amount of times. He should've been risking his life for Tubbo. Instead, he selfishly had Tubbo go to him...

Tommy makes it to the White House and sees Tubbo with Schlatt, George and Quackity standing beside them, guarding them. Quackity looks uncomfortable, Tubbo looks scared, Schlatt looks angry, and George seems indifferent. He learns why quickly, because Schlatt's booming voice makes it to him.

Schlatt is yelling at Tubbo. Schlatt is yelling at Tubbo.

This fills Tommy with unbridled rage for two reasons. One.) This is how Schlatt normally treats Tubbo (Tubbo said it themself) and he's finally witnessing it for himself. Two.) Schlatt's words are clear enough for Tommy to know what he's saying, and Tommy's mad at himself because Schlatt is yelling at Tubbo for sneaking off at night. Sneaking off to see Tommy. Schlatt found out, but he suspects that maybe the goat-man knew all along.

Tommy sees Tubbo defer to Schlatt and he so desperately wants to go save his friend, but George spots him and pulls out his sword. Tommy is gone before Schlatt can see him.

Tommy knows he can't go back now, not that they know he snuck in. Patrols will be more frequent, so if he goes back, it has to mean something. He decides not to tell Wilbur about this, even if it could bite them back later.

Maybe, he won't ever tell Wilbur. And that thought opens up an idea that Tommy hadn't ever realized could be an option. Running away... He could... Run away and never look back and he could be happy. He and Tubbo could be happy, if he can get Tubbo to run away with him.

Tommy knows it's a bad idea. Pogtopia needs him, his brothers need him, his friends need him, but Tubbo needs him, too. And Tubbo needs Tommy more than everyone else (; Tommy needs Tubbo just the same).

It's better for them. War has taken away so much from them, but... Well if he isn't around war what can it do then? War... Is so tiring. He's lost so much of his youth to it and he'll continue to lose more if he doesn't step away from it.

He's dead set on his plan. Technoblade has farmed so many potatoes since he joined Pogtopia that Tommy could take some without it being noticeable (though Technoblade would notice). If he gathers enough materials, he could take some wood, beds, an ender chest, torches, and stone. Or the tools to get wood and stone, so he supposes that could wait.

He doesn't need much to survive out there with Tubbo. If they play their cards right, the two of them could survive easily.

Tommy doesn't think much else through. Where would they go? What would they do? Would they ever go back? What about everyone else? Tommy doesn't think about how Wilbur would break even more upon the realization that Tommy and Tubbo are gone. Pogtopia wouldn't survive much longer without Tommy. Dream won't have his little champion who does his dirty work.

Tommy isn't thinking about much, but he is thinking about what it means to live a life outside of war. He has memories of a time like that, but he can't remember what it felt like. He can't remember what it felt like to be having fun or to be calm. Tommy yearns for peace, and he has to hope Tubbo still does.

He prewrites the letter he'll leave for Pogtopia. He plans on taking Tubbo there after (if, actually) he convinces the older boy to run away. The letter is addressed to Wilbur, but it's intended for Techno, too. He just doesn't want Wilbur to think it's his fault Tommy is running away. It's Tommy's fault. If he and Dream didn't start the Disc Wars and if he didn't join L'Manberg, maybe he wouldn't have gotten roped into such a big mess. Or maybe they still would've.

He wonders... Where would he be if he sided with Dream? What would he be doing if he stayed with Quackity in his cartel? Would Schlatt be his role model if the man wasn't banned from the Dream SMP? He wonders, but it gets him nowhere. What matters is now.

He sneaks into Manberg again, even more cautious and tries to find Tubbo. He eventually finds Tubbo and Schlatt together again, alone without the others... It's suspicious so Tommy is constantly looking around. He wouldn't be surprised if this was a ploy to sneak up on Tommy.

Eventually Schlatt leaves Tubbo alone, and Tommy sees him breathe a sigh of relief and relax his shoulders. Tommy sneaks over to him and whispers.

"Tubbo, Tubbo can I talk to you?" He asks. Tubbo stiffens up again and doesn't relax.

"Not now." Tubbo says quietly and firmly. He doesn't turn to Tommy and is about to walk off.

"Tubbo... Please can we— Actually," he pauses to think. Maybe Tubbo is being watched. "—Can you meet me later at the dirt shed?"

Tubbo is hesitant, but he agrees to it no less. And Tommy, like a fool, will always believe Tubbo.

[Because He Is]

[But He Isn't]

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ravengirl94 · 4 years ago

Text

Dust (Epilogue)

Summary: One year later, Dean’s got some big, big plans.

Pairing: Cowboy!Dean x Reader

Warnings: none I can think of

Word Count: ~2,500?

A/N: I can’t promise it’s any good, friends, but here it is! It’s been awhile, so I’m a little rusty! Hope you enjoy. You guys can thank Chris Lane and his song Big, Big Plans for kickstarting my brain. Because wow, it needed it.

Catch up on the series (or re-read) HERE

You practically bounced in your seat as Sam slowly inched the truck and trailer into place near the barns. He didn't need to say anything, you knew he was smirking over there at your impatience to get back and see a certain someone.

You wouldn't outright admit it, but you missed Dean the past few weeks on the road. A busy summer had meant some tough choices at the farm, sending you out to a string of shows with a crew of horses while Dean remained at home. He continued the training schedule as well as he could without you and trucked out to a few nearby shows every now and then.

Riding and training without Dean felt like you were missing a limb, but the runs with your horses had gone well and you'd made some decent money and you were returning home feeling victorious.

Sam had gone along to give you a hand, since moving and showing six horses wasn't exactly a one person activity. He finally put the truck in park and turned to you with an infuriatingly knowing smile. You flipped him off and shoved out of the cab, Rowan on your heels, silencing his laugh with a slam of the door.

The barn staff was already convening to get the horses unloaded and settled, and you nodded in greeting as you ducked into the barn, mercifully cool even in the summer heat. Rowan dashed off down one of the side aisles, and soon enough Benny's booming voice greeted the dog.

"Hey, Benny," you greeted, rounding the corner to find the farrier on the floor with Rowan, both of them grinning.

"Hey cher," he said, still patting Rowan, "Dean's in his office."

"Thanks," you replied, trying not to be in too much of an obvious hurry as you walked away. The giant fans in the wide open doors created a nice breeze through the barn and muffled most of the noise, so Dean didn't hear your footsteps as you approached his office. You stopped and leaned in the doorway, and his attention quickly snapped up from the papers on his desk.

"Hey," you said with a grin. He looked so good it hurt. He was wearing a black Singer Performance Horses t-shirt, his hat abandoned on the hook nearby. He was tanner than usual, the freckles on his face more prominent, his hair cropped short.

Dean stood slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Then he stepped around his desk, grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him into a kiss. You kissed him back, throwing your arms around his neck as he grabbed your hips.

"Welcome home," Dean said, pausing briefly and pulling back.

"Thanks," you laughed, staring up at him in an effort to re-memorize the details of his face. Dean Winchester was a lot to take in.

"I was busy while you were gone," Dean continued, making you raise an eyebrow. In response, he reached around you to close the door and then turn the lock with a resounding click.

"You put in a lock," you realized, tilting your head suspiciously.

"Just for this," he replied, pulling you back to him.

>>>

"Can I open my eyes yet?" you complained for the umpteenth time, slouched dramatically in the passenger seat of the impala. You had tipped your hat down low over your face after Dean had insisted you not look to maintain the surprise he was planning. He considered the request for a moment thoughtfully. It wasn't like you could know where he was taking you, he was just being dramatic with all the secrecy.

"Yeah alright," he finally agreed, watching as you ripped your hat off excitedly, only to frown at the endless blank landscape around the highway.

Good. You didn't have a clue where he was taking you.

"Where are we going?" you asked again, giving him an imploring look. But Dean only smirked, beyond pleased with himself. It had been a year since you came to the farm, since Dean first met you, and he wanted to do something special for it.

Because you changed everything, and Dean had some big, big plans.

You scowled and crossed your arms with a huff, making Dean chuckle.

"Patience..." he advised, already knowing that wouldn't go over well.

"How much longer?"

"Half an hour."

"Please tell me where we're going."

"Not a chance."

"Dean..." you whined, dragging out the vowels.

"You'll like it, just relax," he insisted, adjusting his grip on the wheel. It wasn't often that he had an excuse to take baby out for a nice long drive, not when so many aspects of his job demanded the towing capacity or the storage space of a pickup. Thankfully, this trip had allowed him to take his prized possession out for a well-deserved joy-ride, with the added bonus of confusing you even further about the nature of this trip.

"I'm not really dressed for a nice dinner," you informed him, making Dean chuckle. You were determined to get the answer out of him.

"I told you, we're not going anywhere to eat," he said, making you hum thoughtfully.

"Are we going to see your dad?" you asked suddenly, and Dean barked out a laugh.

"Definitely not."

You huffed in annoyance again, staring out the window at the fields rolling by, eyes flicking to every sign on the side of the road, likely hoping to pick up on some clue. Dean knew there wouldn't be anything obvious to point out your destination, though. There was a sign, but it was simply for a national park, and those weren't exactly uncommon out here. You perked up a little when Dean finally turned off the highway, but were silent until he pulled down the driveway.

"Devil's Garden?" you asked incredulously, reading the sign at the gate, "what the hell is this?"

"You'll see," Dean replied, easing the impala down the dirt road. He had been here once before, mostly to do some scouting and get more information. Then he had gone straight to Bobby, who had given him a long, strange look before agreeing that it was a fantastic idea.

"I swear to god if you hauled my ass out of bed for a goddamn auction on our day off, I'll kill you," you grumbled as you spotted corrals and holding pens. But there was something different in your voice and you sat up straighter, like you knew there had to be more to this place, more to Dean's plans. And it didn't take long. Up ahead there were more gates, more fencing, and at least a few hundred horses. As the impala crept closer, more details made the picture all too clear. The horses were separated into smaller groups, many with brands or paint on their hip indicating age, which ranged from foals to seniors. Some were skinny, bones poking out of their hides where they shouldn't, and others looked healthy as anything, but they all bore long, tangled manes, and they all were wild.

"Are those..." you breathed, hands gripping the dashboard as you craned your neck to see everything, anything, "mustangs?"

>>>>

You couldn't stop staring.

There were so many horses, and it broke your heart.

Wild, majestic and proud - only to be rounded up and confined to holding pens. The mustangs were becoming a controversial problem as their numbers climbed and their habitat shrunk. Farmers put up fences, landowners didn't want them around, and more and more the mustangs, something you considered a symbol of freedom and strength, were being viewed as a nuisance.

Dean was standing beside you, quiet, as if he knew you needed a moment to sort through your emotions.

"Are they- are they for sale?"

"Adoption," Dean corrected, "we're here to pick out two."

"Two?"

"Well yeah, I want one too."

You turned to find him smirking at you, which only made you grin.

"Where do we start?"

One of the staff members led you around to a few of the corrals, showing you the different horses, separated into age groups. It was an impossible choice, really, but you were sure that you'd know the right one when you saw it. There were a few that caught your eye, a large grey with a dark mane, a couple paints and bays that tugged at your heartstrings, but you couldn't make the choice.

Until you spotted them.

A pair of horses stood near the edge of one pen, almost shoulder to shoulder. One had it's head lowered, eyes half closed in sleep, but the other was alert, ears swiveling to catch sounds from the workers and other horses. They were dark brown bays, solidly built and in apparent good condition, tails swishing idly.

"They're brothers we think," the girl said when you asked, "they're always looking for each other. The bigger one nearly killed us when we separated them for vetting."

You glanced sidelong at Dean only to find him chuckling, scuffing his boot in the loose red tinted dirt.

"Them, I want them," you said firmly, and when Dean met your eyes, you saw approval in his gaze.

"We'll take em," he agreed.

"Do you want to pick them up when you come for the others?" The woman asked, scribbling down the horses' hip numbers on her clipboard.

"Others?" You demanded, whipping back around to face Dean, who only gave you a cheeky grin before answering.

"Yeah, but we'll use a second trailer. Pulling them from this group will be hard enough on them, don't need to do it again."

"Fair enough," she replied, handing her clipboard to Dean for a signature.

"Who are the others?" You hissed as the woman walked away, leaving the two of you leaning against the fence and watching your two new mustangs. They eyed you back suspiciously, the larger one pinning his ears and snapping at a passing chestnut. You knew to be patient with Dean, that pushing for more information too hard wouldn't get you anywhere, but god was it frustrating.

"When we heard how desperate the mustang problem is," Dean finally began, eyes trained on the wild horses before you, "Bobby offered to take a herd."

"A herd,” you repeated, dumbfounded.

"An entire family. So they could stay together, stay wild and unbroken and in their homeland. The back field behind the cabins will be theirs, to live out their days. We won't ride em, won't break em, just give them a safe place to live."

You couldn't help the tears that sparked in the corners of your eyes, and Dean slid an arm around you, pulling you into his side.

>>>>

Dean leaned against the rails of the roundpen, his eyes trained on you where you worked with the slightly smaller of the mustangs, who you had named Gunner. The whole taming wild horses thing was going well, he supposed, all things considered. The transition had been hard on everyone, but things had settled down and the horses were starting to respond. Gunner and Zeppelin hadn't taken kindly to being separated, but everyone agreed that they had to learn to have some independence. For now they lived in adjacent paddocks that Bobby had set up specifically for the mustangs, where they could see each other most of the time.

You'd been brought close to tears by their fear and outrage the first night, slumped, exhausted after a long day on the cabin porch, the horses' panicked calls audible in the distance. Dean had sat there with you for a long time, one hand running back and forth across your back, until finally the calls stopped. The next morning found both horses calm, crunching contentedly on their hay, but they still fell back into their dramatics every now and then.

The days since had brought bruised egos and limbs, frustration and fury, relief and pride. The process of gentling - not breaking - the wild horses was grueling for everyone. Just getting a halter onto them had been a monumental step, and building from there sometimes felt agonizingly slow. Dean had a slightly different approach than you did, but ultimately your goals were the same: build a partnership based on trust and respect.

More often than not Dean would find you sitting in Gunner's pen with your phone or a stack of paperwork or even your lunch, offering and asking him only for companionship. Usually the mustang would ignore you, but lately he’d been getting more curious. Dean had taken to using Kaz to help him with Zeppelin, hoping her model behavior would help the horse understand that he was safe to trust.

Dean bit his tongue before he could call out a suggestion, knowing he would only distract Gunner and that you knew well enough to do your own training. As if you'd read his mind, you turned and did exactly what he would have suggested, a wide grin breaking across your face as Gunner responded appropriately. You had ditched your hat in the late-afternoon heat, hair pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands escaping to fall down to your shoulders. With a start, Dean realized your Singer Performance t-shirt was actually his, the extra length tucked into your jeans. Not a huge surprise, considering you and Rowan practically lived with him now, but it was an oddly welcome sight. He liked seeing you in his clothes.

You ended the training session on a good note, patting Gunner on the neck and leading him out of the pen, back towards his paddock and his brother. Zeppelin whinnied as he heard them coming, and Gunner replied with his own nicker, trotting over to check on his brother as soon as you released him.

"He's looking good," Dean commented, slinging an arm across your shoulders as you joined him.

"That felt really good. I think we made some progress," you agreed, hip-checking him playfully as the two of you set off towards the main house for dinner, "think we can start backing them soon?"

"I think so. Need to go slow, but I think they're ready to try."

"Zep hasn't tried to murder you lately for leaning on him, so that's promising," you laughed, making Dean smile.

"I'm glad you find the thought of my death so funny," he said, pulling you closer and kissing the side of your head roughly. Still laughing, you shoved off of him, jogging a few steps towards the house before turning to face him.

"You almost died once on me, Winchester," you said, smile still on your face but something more serious in your eyes, "no more of that."

"Cross my heart," Dean promised, stopping just in front of you.

"The rest of that is 'hope to die,' dummy," you scoffed, scowling up at him.

"Shut up," he muttered, leaning down and kissing you, long and slow, your arms coming up to circle his neck. He pulled back after a second, staring down into your face and was hit suddenly just how hard he'd been falling. "I ain't goin anywhere," he said, “I’ve got plans.”

“Do you, now?” you asked, tilting your head questioningly. Dean only grinned, his mind wandering back to his cabin, to the ring hidden in one of his boots and the three acres he’d bought from Bobby last year.

Big, big plans alright.

>>>

Devil’s Garden - yes it’s real, and no, I didn’t have to make up something so appropriately named. You can find them on Facebook, too.

#dust #dust epilogue #dean x reader #cowboy!dean #cowboy!dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au #spn au #supernatural au #dean winchester #benny lafitte #sam winchester #bobby singer #singer ranch #omg look i finally finished something

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thetradeway · 3 years ago

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Session 51 Sep 18 2021: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

Right - where were we? Oh yes, we fought some piranha and found some chests and some Duergar statues. We fill Mina in on what she missed; she offers to craft Gideon a new finger.

“No… No, I don’t want your goblin crafts on my body!”

Then there’s some waffle about covid deniers. (Ed believes covid is real; Gideon does not.)

Who wants control of the urine-drenched sorcerer? Sophie, OOC: “You make it sound so appealing.”

She agrees to take Ahleqs, if Matthew will help her out.

Now, when I put a message on the group chat earlier to ask if we were starting at the usual time tonight, our illustrious DM messaged back to say ‘Yep yep yep thumbs up emoji smiley face emoji’ which was far too enthusiastic. We are all now very wary. Ardvack slams a potion before we get started.

Right, where were we going? There is still a strange magical island with a wall around it to explore. There is a boat that leads to it; Gideon advances to Investigate. It looks old but in good shape and water-tight. There are oars. He thinks three will fit in it; he volunteers as do Tarragon and Melaina. Gideon, sternly: “No pilfering, rogue.”

Tarragon rows us across. Do the others want her to go back and pick them up? Apparently not.

Gideon investigates the magical barrier, which is blocking the door, but rolls a nat 1. We make Perception checks - the giant statue of the dwarves god of crafts has an offering bowl at his feet, with something written in Dwarvish. Gideon would read it, but Ed’s buggered off.

“You cannot enter this room.”

Tarragon decides to take this as a challenge. She takes out a gold piece and puts it in the offering bowl; nothing happens so she takes it back out. Gideon covers the ‘not’ part of the carving so it reads 'you can enter this room', but that doesn’t seem to help either.

Tarragon looks at the magical wall. It’s blue, and looks a similar colour to the brazier in the other room. Could we light a torch from the brazier and try waving that at the wall? Maybe. In the meantime Gideon puts some food in the bowl; nothing doing.

Ardvack, shouting across the water: “Have you tried blood?”

Gideon squeezes some blood from his severed finger stump - still nothing. Tarragon rows the boat back to get Kessler, who has hopefully been lighting one of her torches. She has not been able to light her torch from the brazier, however; it won't catch.

Is the bowl loose? Could we pick it up? No, it’s attached to the floor. Could Kessler pick up the brazier? It won’t move either. Time for stupid ideas.

“Hey Carl,” shouts Kessler pointing at the brazier, “put your hand in that.” Carl does not. Kessler gets just such a doggy look from Ardvack; she laughingly tells him she can’t tell because he has no face. Instead he leans down and says snottily, “Carl is precious.” He investigates the brazier. Can he feel warmth coming off it? Nat 20.

There is no heat coming off it. It does create light, but there is no noise. It is not consuming anything physical. He doesn’t think it’s evil or necessarily good; it’s just a spiritual fire. Ahleqs does an Arcana check. It’s some kind of divine magic; he is fairly certain it could be extinguished with a high enough levelled Dispel Magic spell.

Ardvack puts his hand in the brazier; it doesn’t burn him. He puts his whole head in. He’s a bit light-blinded afterward for a minute or so, but is otherwise unharmed.

Tarragon has Dispel Magic, but doesn’t have it prepared. What about Ahleqs? He doesn’t have the spell at all.

Gideon wants to rest his battle-axe on the offering bowl; he does that, but nothing happens. He rescinds the axe. Perhaps crafts, considering the nature of the god? Perhaps something he’s made?

Ahleqs has Ardvack’s leather face mask at the moment; since that was made by Kessler, perhaps we could try that.

Melaina is Investigating the door behind the wall of force. She can see beyond it to a ruined dock. If she puts her hands out to the wall of force, she can feel it though it doesn’t harm her. Would putting the brazier out remove the wall? She rolls a low Insight check and doesn’t know. Gideon rolls a low Religion check as well; he doesn’t know either.

“Alright Goblin, you’re up. Do your thing,” says Gideon. She puts Ardvack's mask in the bowl, but still nothing happens.

DM offers a clue if we roll good on Insight; Ardvack, Melaina and Gideon all do. They think the inscription refers to the desired offering. Gideon wants to put something in the bowl that would not fit in the door.

What about a fish? They breathe air, and so could not pass anywhere above the water. Tarragon steps into the bowl and Wild Shapes into a fish; still nothing happens. She changes back. Is this one of those children’s riddles that we should have definitely got by now? Joe says we will absolutely kick ourselves when we get it.

Ardvack picks a handful of mushrooms - and that bloody well works. You cannot enter this ‘room. Goddammit. Joe removes the wall. If Ardvack had a face, he’d be looking smug.

We go through. Goblin shield goes first. She sees something horrible - it is currently standing motionless. It looks like a huge dwarf in heavy armour, but made of stone, and there is a faint red glow emanating from its chest. There is an open chest next to it full of shiny shinies; Kessler points them out to Melaina, possibly in hopes that she will go first. Melaina, sadly for Kessler, does not fall for this trick.

Ardvack ventures too close and it spots him - initiative time. (Ed has disappeared again. While we wait, we discuss Matthew’s zombie campaign. We will all be level 2 when we return, which gives us an ability called Zombie Grab. Matthew and Sophie order pizza.)

Tarragon Potions and readies a Thorn Whip (which always reminds Sophie of a Walnut Whip. Not the Ann Summers sort of whip, Joe asks? No, but interesting that his mind went there.) Melaina hides and shoots - 24 hits, for 22 damage. Her bow is magical, correct? Yes. Good. Okay. Bits of rock fall off the golem. Hooray!

Does she want to move, say, to run away? (Oh shit.) She moves back so everyone else can get in.

Kessler takes aim with her crossbow. 24 hits for 7 damage, and her weapon is magical as well. She reloads and shoots again for 7 more damage while Matthew and Sophie decide what Ahleqs is going to do.

They decide that he will cast Shatter on the golem. Ba-boom! It has to make a Constitution save - at Disadvantage. “Because you’re made of stone. Like an idiot.” But it gets Advantage on saves versus magic, so that’s just a straight roll. 13. “Ha! You lose!” It takes 19 Thunder damage. Ahleqs cheers, then hides behind Tarragon.

It rushes at us - Tarragon looses her Thorn Whip but misses.

Carl uses his big stick that Tarragon gave him, but misses, almost hitting everyone else around him. He was excited. He doesn’t move, but holds the line.

Gideon is up. “Ed stop eating sausages!”

“… How did you know what I was doing.”

He Acid Splashes it. The Golem fails the save, even with Advantage, and takes 9 Acid Damage.

Like the hero he has proved himself to be, Ardvack does a cautious tactical repositioning to get away from the golem, does Shksdjlsdglsghjkhhbllhh, and then casts Eldritch Blast. It hits, and more stone crumbles off the golem.

Tarragon does Greater Shlgljksdkgjfhl;jjjhh, just to flex on Ardvack, and hits it for 11 Bludgeoning. She bares her teeth at the golem.

Melaina falls back a little, and shoots again. Matthew and Sophie suddenly seem unable to hear the rest of us, so there is a short recess while we sort that out. Their wifi has died. I decide, in my infinite wisdom, to restart my computer; of course, it decides to install something without even asking and so I am still waiting for it long after Matthew and Sophie return. I miss a bunch of stuff; some people do some damage, and the golem does a thing where it forces a Wisdom save - those that fail have their speed halved, and can do an action OR a bonus action on their turn, but not both. Joe makes an attack for me, which hits. Tarragon is pleased. And then I’m back!

The golem is looking ropey. Its light is still glowing, but bits are falling off it. It turns on Carl, even though Kessler has imposed Disadvantage on it if it attacks anyone but her. 14 still hits, as does 29, and he takes THIRTY NINE damage. Carl is now on zero, having had exactly 39 HP previously.

Matthew, sounding worried: “This changes things.”

Carl makes a real death save - and fails. "No! Carl!"

Gideon's turn - and Ed has snuck off again. Or fallen asleep. We skip him for now and move on to Ardvack. “I’ll save you Carl!” Then, to himself as he runs, “Not my precious Carl…” He casts Life Transference. (A lovely, sacred, holy Cleric spell.) He saves Carl, but instantly regrets walking closer to the golem.

Tarragon batters it for 16 damage - the light begins to flicker and sputter in its chest. Does she want to move? “Nope!” She could bonus action dive in the water with the Quippers if she wanted? “… No thank you.”

Melaina does a Scorching Ray - one of the three hits for 7 fire damage total. It’s looking ‘exceedingly ropey’ but is still up.

Kessler gets the how-de-do-dis with her Thunder Gauntlets - she runs up it and yells “Red means stop!” and punches it in the chest. It falls to the ground in a big pile of rubble. We solved Joe’s Golem puzzle!

Matthew, immediately: “Loot its corpse!”

Kessler is holding the gem from its chest; it is no longer glowing. Ardvack sets about the treasure chest. It is open, and there is gold inside. He clicks on the loot chest, and adds 100gp to the 3000cp he finds. (428 cp, and 14gp each.)

Kessler: “Anyone got a Transmute spell?” (That's a lot of coins.)

Ardvack shares out the treasure as equally as possible. Kessler finds herself overburdened. Melaina slyly: “I could carry your treasure for you.”

Kessler: “No thank you.”

Where to next? There was a rope bridge in the room with the brazier that led to an island with a dead giant spider on it; Joe zips us all there for expediency.

Melaina crosses the bridge to approach the ‘very very dead’ spider; it looks like its moving around. Not the legs, but as if there’s something moving under the skin…

A swarm of maggots burst out of the spider, taking her by surprise. They swarm up her legs and over her flesh.

Melaina, equally horrified and furious: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

(This is why Joe was so pleased earlier isn’t it.)

She now has two rot grubs burrowing under her skin. We’ve all heard of these, the subject of adventurer’s tales swapped in taverns. Melaina knows she has to burn them while they’re still just under her skin, or they will burrow to her heart and kill her.

Well shit.

We roll initiative…

Ardvack fails at Eldritch Blast, and the grubs become resistant to that type of damage (Force I think?) for 1d4 rounds. (4. Fuck.)

Ahleqs does a Burning Hands at them. They fail the save and take 6 fire damage. Several screech, and curl up and burn.

Melaina wants to cast Scorching Ray on herself - she can do that. She takes two fire damage, and the grubs die. She can spend the rest of her action to squeeze them back out of the holes they burrowed in through. Delightful.

Tarragon moves to the side and Thunderwaves the swarm - they fail the save and are pushed off the bridge into the water to be eaten by the Quippers. Yay! Everyone wins! We move forward, Melaina at the head.

DM suddenly: “Stop there, Melaina!”

Us immediately: “Oh no!”

She finds a door with a shape carved in it - the gem that Kessler took from the golem looks like it would fit in there. That is not relevant right now, however, as she has charged forward and tripped a trip wire. She fails her Dex save and a giant ballista bolt sticks her for 14 damage. Could have been a lot worse. She decides she’s not doing anything else, even when tempted with a treasure chest; she goes to sit in a corner and sulk.

The treasure chest is on a different island, reachable only via a broken bridge. Kessler suggests throwing the dead spider into the water to distract the Quippers while we jump across.

Do we want to take a short rest first? Yes. Tarragon makes up some Relaxing Bark, allowing everyone to regain a couple of Hit Dice which we roll, and take potions. Ardvack casts Life Transference on Carl again.

We are about to move on when the DM has us all roll a d20. Uh oh. Anyone who got ten or more can get five more HP back, as we burned incense in a temple. Yay!

Matthew, grumbling: “Oh as soon as we get a long rest, you can bet I’m going to be re-summoning Admiral Pancakes…”

Do we want to jump the bridge after the treasure? Is it worth it? Melaina wants to; the rest of us are dubious. How far can she jump with a run-up? Ten feet. She could jump it.

“Alright then, I’ll do it. Whoosh.” Kessler follows her.

Melaina checks for traps - an 8. She can’t see any! Sophie, OOC, resignedly: “Oh, right, okay.”

She checks the chest itself and finds a trap mechanism - some nozzles sticking out of the ground next to the chest. She makes a roll with her thieves tools, and by the skin of her teeth (13) disarms it. It would have been bad; one nozzle would have squirted her with flammable liquid and the other would have set her on fire. She finds a Brooch of Shielding! There is another item, a ring, which seems magical; Kessler takes eleven minutes and casts Identify as a ritual. It’s a ring of Swimming!

Melaina gives the brooch to Ahleqs, as he would almost certainly appreciate anything that would give him some extra protection. We decide to crack on, as it would take another hour for him to attune to it. Besides, the longer we’re down here the more this place sucks so we’re all eager to leave.

Kessler puts the gemstone into the hole in the door and it creaks open; we walk through. We enter some tunnels, which are very claustrophobic after the caverns. It’s very dark. We follow them until we come out into another large cavernous room.

We jump to another map…

There are more islands with about ten foot tall towers with glowing orbs at the top. More water, and a broken stone bridge. (Is anyone reminded of Beverly?)

The bad news is, this room has glowing orb lights, a broken bridge, and more islands. The good news is, it seems quiet enough that we could take a long rest.

Kessler does her Alarm spell, and Carl - not needing to sleep - takes all the watches. We all take turns to watch with him as “his Perception is for shit.”

Kessler takes first, Tarragon takes second, and Melaina third.

Carl and Kessler make Perception checks. A 3 and a 6; oh dear. Kessler thinks she hears water noises, but it could be just the water on the shore.

Then Tarragon and Carl. 13 for Tarragon and a 16 for Carl. We watch some bats flitting about in the light from the strange tower; nothing dangerous, however. Everyone but Tarragon now completes their long rest. She retires, and Melaina and Carl roll Perception.

Carl is on fire tonight; a 17. He makes an Intelligence check - a 9. That’s actually not bad. After about 3 hours he becomes agitated and tries to say something, but can’t. Melaina’s nostrils are assailed with a foul stench; she looks to the water to see something breaking the surface of it. Which means that whatever it is doesn’t get a surprise round…

Melaina and Carl roll initiative. Carl has used all his good rolls on Perceiving. But he’s ready for anything; he’s got his stick.

Whatever is crawling out of the water looks like a troll, but dripping with horrible ichorous black ooze and smelling like a busy harbour at low tide.

Matthew, OOC: “They smell like a bonfire of nappies. No - a burning zoo.”

Melaina hides behind some mushrooms; triggering Kessler’s Alarm spell as she leaves the area (because Kessler didn’t specify otherwise). We all wake, and can roll Initiative next round. Melaina takes aim with her longbow. 19 to hit with Sharpshooter, which does. She gets a nat 1 for her Sneak/Sharpshooter which is only a measly 25 total, plus her bow’s damage of 9 for 34. The thing lets out a howl, which would have woken us if the Alarm spell hadn’t.

It approaches us. It’s wearing a loincloth; small mercies.

Everyone but Ardvack and Melaina makes CON saves as the troll runs a filthy claw down its own forearm for a venom spray attack. Gideon and Tarragon take 18 poison damage and are poisoned. The others take half damage and are not poisoned. Now it does its multi-attack.

It has a bite at Tarragon but misses, then a claw at Kessler and misses. Then it claws at Gideon, and misses again. Ha!

Another one shambles up, but doesn’t attack yet. It’s Carl’s turn; he uses his zombie agility to run up to one of the trolls and give it a good old Slam - “Classic Slam - ” and uses his Zombie Grab to try and grapple it. They make contested STR checks - Carl wins even with a 14. The bad news is that part of the troll’s corpulence is ruptured, emitting a black foul ichor into the air - Tarragon and Kessler take more damage as it, however unintentionally, does an Acid Splash.

“… Thanks Carl.”

Melaina goes first. She goes to move but takes 15 Force damage from the towers. What??? Sophie OOC, to Matthew: “Honey, I’m being shot by the nasty tower.” She was just inside its range. She shoots one of the trolls. She hits, and causes another Acid Splash. Tarragon has just woken up from a Long Rest, and is now under half HP. Melaina does do 34 damage to the troll though.

Gideon, with advice from Matthew, casts Grease under the troll that Carl is *not* grappling. This seems a classic ‘Grease’ situation. It rolls a DEX save, and fails, falling prone.

Tarragon casts Lesser Restoration on herself, ending the Poisoned effect, Rages, and steps out of range of the Venom spray.

Ahleqs screams the incantation for Mage Armour, and steps back also. Kessler’s turn, and she will risk stepping back. One is restrained and the other prone, so no attack of Opportunity. She takes out her crossbow and shoots at the one grappled by Carl. 20 hits for 11 piercing damage. “And I will shoot that sucker again.” 17 also hits for 7 damage. She drinks one of her potions; wise.

Carl takes 18 poison from Kessler’s attacks on the troll, but he’s immune to poison. Carl has the Grappler feat, so even though the troll is a size larger than him it doesn’t get Advantage on the Strength check to free itself. They roll straight Strength checks - Carl rolls a ten, and the troll rolls a 6, even with a plus four modifier.

The prone one uses half its movement to stand up and moves forward, biting at Kessler - 26 to hit. It actually hits her! Even Shield won’t do it! She takes 6 piercing and 6 poison damage, and is poisoned until the start of the troll’s next turn.

It claws twice at Tarragon; “Bring it.”

24 hits, the ten doesn’t. Ten slashing (halved to 5) and 6 poison (not halved). She’s at 19HP now, and hasn't even attacked yet.

Ardvack wakes up to see the trolls attacking. “Ah. It must be Wednesday.” Matthew, OOC: “Im going to do… something… stupid. Or… brilliant.” Seeing the damage Tarragon and Kessler have taken, he heals Tarragon for 11HP. She blinks with surprise, and he backs up.

We call it there as it's getting late...

#dnd #campaign diary #thetradeway

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your-rose-highness · 4 years ago

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Tell Me What Is Love (ch-5)

The breakfast was rather awkward. Hye Hee’s post- drunk brain was failing to comprehend the situation and Baekhyun only made small talk with Jane, very interested in her family whereabouts and her struggles of the past. Hye Hee scanned him the entire time, reading his every move. Baekhyun caught her eye a couple of times while he spoke to Jane, only to quickly look away, which made it look even more suspicious.

“What was Baekhyun doing in my dingy apartment so early on a Monday morning?” she thought to herself.

The three of them did the dishes and chilled in the living area before Jane left to go for the shift. Baekhyun and hye hee stayed silent for a long time before Baekhyun asked, “why have you been drinking so much?”

“I’m a grown woman. I can drink when I want to.`` she sternly replied.

“That's not what I meant. And you know that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to visit..?”

Hye Hee sat quietly. Baekhyun began twitching beside her when she looked over at him.

“The sofa is uncomfortable….”, he whimpered.

“I’m sorry it doesn’t suit your royal ass.”

“Why did you drink?”

“... I can't switch things because you don't like them…”

“Hye Hee, stop avoiding the question... Why did you..?”

“... plus why are you here anyway? Go run back to Taeyeon.”

“Excuse me? You were the one who suggested that I pretend harder..`` Baekhyun said, his voice rising.

“Pretend? When the hell…?”

“You know what, I'm leaving. You don't need me.”

“Yeah, run away Baek. That's what you did in the past. Do it again!”

“What did you say?”, Baekhyun looked at her furiously.

Hye Hee left the kitchen and walked to her bedroom, avoiding any confrontation. But Baekhyun wasn't having it.

“I left? Me? You never even tried to come back. That's how much I meant to you huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right!!! You never meant anything.i was happy to have gotten rid of you... Baekhyun this is my room, get out.”

“No.”

She exhaled slowly and began pushing him. Baekhyun didn't budge.

“I’m not leaving. Your place is my place.”

“Why are you doing this?!!” she exploded, even though Baekhyun was smiling.

It was like they were back in school again. He reached out for her hand, his eyes full of concern when he knew his best friend was hiding something really bad, “What’s wrong? Will you tell me now that you’re done yelling?”

Baekhyun was taller than her now, something she still wasn't used to yet. Her shoulders relaxed and she fought the urge to hug him. He was there for her, but he was someone else’s. The thought only made her want to cry but she tried with all her might not to.

“I miss you…”, she barely managed to say, her voice cracking.

Within an instant, his arms wrapped around her, his palm supporting her head, as he rested it against his chest.

“ I do too. Why do you think I'm here? You may be strong enough to avoid seeing me, but you know I'm not.”

He made her tea later, while both chatted about a job possibility in his company.

“Won't that be troublesome?”, She questioned.

“No… not really…” he trailed off, “at least better than someone we don't know. Teacher Sooman is more scared of sasaengs in the disguise of staff than anything else.”

“That's a good point.”

“Anyways, you have my recommendation. So there's a big chance you'll grab the job plus, your resume is a bonus.”, He stated, proud.

“It’s almost past 9 pm, don't you have to go home?”

“Well, I should… but Taeyeon and Sarang both are not home. So …. I'm free for dinner with you…”

“I didn't say I wanted to have dinner with you though,'' Hye hee responded cheekily.

Hye hee offered to make dinner this time, with Baekhyun as her assistant. They were discussing the amount of milk to add in their pasta sauce when he received a call. His expressions gave grim instantly, and he walked out to the balcony. Hye hee didn't want to trespass but she found herself a little too alert, trying to catch some words.

“..... really?... okay… yeah, you know… with the guys…. Don't wait up. Hmm.. okay.”

Hye hee wondered who it was on the other side. Taeyeon maybe? Baekhyun hung up and leaned against the wall for a few minutes before he left a deep sigh.

Hye Hee quickly made her way back to the kitchen and innocently asked, “Who was that?”

“Taeyeon.”

Bingo.

“Oh? I thought you said she was not gonna be back till a few days?”

“Yeah, she decided to come back sooner I suppose. Anyway, let's have dinner and I’ll have to leave..”

“Yeah, sure.”

His one sentence had summarised their position in each other's lives. No matter how much they wished to spend time with each other, no matter how much they meant, Baekhyun was somebody's husband and his priority was never going to be Hye Hee.

They quietly finished dinner and Baekhyun offered to wash the dishes with her, but by this point, Hye Hee didn't want to keep him away from his real family any longer.

After a few days, while Hye hee was shopping for some groceries, Baekhyun called her.

“Hello?”, She took his call, while also trying to put the pack of perilla leaves in her cart.

“Hye hee, do you have time tomorrow?”, his voice sounded urgent.

“Umm. For what??”

“The opening for staff at SM I told you about? I heard a few staff members discuss that it was the last day. What say? You want me to put you in?”

Hye Hee had a hard time saying yes, but a girl's gotta eat right?

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll come tomorrow for the interview.”

“Great! Alright, I'll text you the time okay? Okay, gotta go now, bye babe.” He hung up, excited like a puppy.

A faint smile played on Hye Hee's lips.

"What?!", Jane exclaimed over the phone, making Hye Hee move her phone away from her ear. She had called her on the way to her interview the next day.

Reposing herself, Hye Hee continued, "So as I was saying, I have no confirmation about the job! can you calm down?"

"No! No! Okay, do this, once you get in, can you get a spot for me too?"

"Okay, we're going in circles! Look, I'll call you after my interview, my stop is here."

Hye Hee got off in a hurry, only 10 minutes before her expected time.

She found the SM building with ease, no one could miss the tall building with a swarm of fans standing out in the hope of seeing their favorite celebrities. Hye Hee was guided to the staff entrance, on showing her interview mail on her phone.

The office was a beauty. The interiors were largely based on pastel shades and the minimal decoration gave it a very chic appearance.

I could be working here... It's so pretty...

Snapping out of her daydream, a staff scurried over to her, leading her to the exceptionally large waiting area. She and 20 others sat nervously, waiting their turn through the huge glass doors.

After which seemed like an eternity, Hye Hee was finally called in. Taking a deep breath in, she opened the door to an exceptionally large room. Her legs wobbled a little as she took small but decent steps towards the large desk that had some of their artists and also Baekhyun’s manager. Just like her, he seemed taken aback by her presence but quickly reposed himself. Hye hee took the seat in front of the panel after she greeted them all.

She quickly recognized the handsome Yunho at the left of the table and couldn't help being starstruck by his beauty.

“So, Song Hye Hee…”, boomed one of the member’s voices and also snapped her back to reality.

“You’ve quite an impressive resume and also an experience. I hope you know that the current job openings do not call for such expertise. Though we could use you for the international language department occasionally…”, he said, glancing at the other stern panelists with doubt.

“Oh yes, I know that the job doesn't entail or call for my previous work experience. I was looking to enhance my resume when I applied for this job..”

“Have you had any managerial responsibilities at the last post?”, suddenly enquired Yunho, looking straight into her eyes that could make even the non-guilty shiver.

Swinging between forming her sentences to answer and not being able to directly meet eyes with Yunho, “ Yes, I was head of the entertainment reporters team for a year…”

“Well… that’s not the kind of skills we’re looking for…”, mumbled the man on the far left, shuffling through the papers in front of him.

“Yes, sir. I have never said that I can't learn the work. My reporting job wasn't exactly my forte. But I learned the skills required for the job quickly after my supervisor helped me. I am more than sure that the responsibilities you bestow upon me will be dealt with to the end and with the utmost professionalism.” hye hee insisted.

Hye hee’s demeanor vibrated through the room as the panelists thought over what she said. It was rare even for them to have an interviewee be that direct and to the point. The employees at the company were especially strict with their new recruitments due to past such incidents when they had toxic fans pose as recruits.

Yunho seemed to be quietly talking to Baekhyun’s manager, occasionally glancing at her direction. Hye Hee couldn't be sure if it was accidental with the questions being showered on her from either end.

Boarding the bus closest to the company after filling a few more details, she headed to meet Jane for lunch at the closest ramen restaurant. Once again, thoughts clouded her mind and she found herself weighing the consequences if somehow they dug out her history with Baekhyun. Soon her phone lit up from a number she didn't recognize. She quickly dived to pick it up, expecting the company.

“Hello?”

“Song Hye Hee-ssi?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Jung Mu, Baekhyun’s manager. I was wondering if we could meet later today? I have some things to discuss with you.”

Hye Hee’s heart raced from the moment she heard him say his name. Baekhyun had mentioned his manager hyung's a million times before and continues to do so. Jung Mu had been a very quiet encouragement for him since the day he was assigned to manage EXO. he had helped him from many sticky situations and quite so even when he was out on dates with her.

“Umm sure. There’s this tiny cafe on the 17th..”, she told him but was only cut short.

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”, Jung Mu quickly responded. “I’ve dropped him close to the cafe a million times.”

Hye hee an irritation in his voice that was hard to brush off.

It reminded her of the rare occasions when baekhyun would get mad at her for nothing in particular. The sour memories clouded her, cueing the tears instantly. As she hung up, she contemplated if her working at SM would be the right choice after all. She was denying to herself that this step was taken to stay close to baekhyun and be able to see him every day, lying to herself that it was a big field break into the entertainment agency.

But, the truth was, this would only further the distance more. Materialize it. The celebrity, married to an equally popular singer, and she, a struggling writer. Nothing but a layman.

She hurried over to Minseok’s cafe soon, informing him about everything that had happened. He, being the good friend that he was, agreed in no time, however, did think that working at SM could cause trouble. Not just for her, but baekhyun as well.

“Why do I need to close the cafe for a staff?”

“Fans stalk the manager too, Oppa. I’m sorry. But this is the only safe space I know of.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head in disbelief. He soon handed her the pomegranate tea, her favorite for times when stressed. Minseok was usually very mindful of the people around him. The kind gesture made hye hee smile, he smiled at her and softly tapping her shoulder giving her courage to face what lay ahead.

She watched him walk into the low lit cafe soon, accompanied by someone she hadn't anticipated. The two dark figures approached her as they spotted the only person seated.

“Song Hye Hee?”, asked Jung Mu extending his hand towards her. But Hye Hee’s eyes only followed the other tall man behind him.

Suho.

She couldn't think of him as an old friend at that moment. His expression was too grave to be addressed as the man who would smile so gently at her whenever they met.

When hye hee didn't respond at his words, Jung Mu just drew the chair opposite to her. Suho slid into the chair next to him, without meeting eyes with her the whole time. Hye hee silently tried to read into the situation, partially terrified. Minseok appeared minutes later to ask if anyone needed anything. Suho took one glance at him and said, “Lemonade, no sugar.”

“Can we trust him?”, Jung Mu whispered to hye hee after he left, briefly meeting eyes with hye hee, concerned.

“Minseok is a very close trusted friend of mine. You’re safe here.”

Minseok quickly hurried over with the drinks and left them to talk alone, shutting the small staff door. The room where she had met Baekhyun after all those years.

Sipping from his drink, after which his face scrunched in sourness, he quickly reposed himself.

“Hye Hee why were you at the agency today?”, his clear voice boomed in quiet space.

“Baekhyun said I could apply…”

He smirked with disbelief as she spoke, turning to face Hye hee, his eyes pierced into hers.

“Are you kidding me, Hye hee? After all, this while, don't you know? If someone ever finds out about the two of you, it won't just destroy him and you. It’ll take all of us down.”

He paused for a minute before whipping out his phone, showing her a twitter update.

Hye Hee picked up the phone bewildered.

“He’s already been spotted.”, Suho hissed. “You are VERY lucky that even though they are suspicious, the angle makes it hard to be sure. Isn't this your apartment, Hye Hee? Baekhyun refuses to handle this maturely, but Hye Hee, you? I expected better out of you. I cannot allow this. I’m sorry. I need you to minimize your contact with Baekhyun, and eventually, fade him out.”

He was right. What was she thinking? She was low key yearning for Baekhyun, expecting miracles where he would abandon his family for her. He wouldn't ever. Everything that he had built over the years was at stake and so was the entire group.

“Fine.”, she whispered, a voice soft yet unshaken.

“Fine?” wondered Jung mu.

“I will fade away from his life, his memory. But I will need your help.”, said she, with eyes dark and resolute.

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